#it's somehow okay to just throw every borderline to the dogs and hope that they kill themselves ? because they're all rancid abusers ig ?

[teethrotter]

this is one of the first things that comes up when you look into what it might be like to have a borderline partner. tell me again about how bpd is not among the most stigmatized mental conditions ?

[itwoodbeprefect]

Prompt you say? SGA: "Kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight", perhaps?

Ohhh, Lovers in a Dangerous Time lyrics!! :D I've used that exact quote before as a fic title, so my immediate association is now sappy h50 ace fic, haha.

But it is a VERY GOOD line that definitely works for sga, thank you, anon! Hope it's okay that I didn't include it literally but kind of... took it and ran. Very far. In a direction that maybe wasn’t on the map.

---

It’s a black box. Not a black box like a black box is a black box, like the flight recorders on planes that are actually bright orange and that John would know what to do with (i.e. hand it over to Rodney and wait), but a black box in the sense that it is a box, that is black, and that some genius took from one of the most remote wings of Atlantis and that has now attached itself to the floor in a corner of the science lab and is... pulsating. And perhaps also-

“Is it growing?” Teyla asks.

Rodney whips his head up so fast that John, who’s been watching the readings he’s taking over his shoulder (in the vain hope of it suddenly becoming A) something he can shoot at or B) a math problem), almost gets his nose bashed in. “I think it is.” Rodney does not sound as calm about this as Teyla did. “And I’m seeing a weird energy build-up.”

John weaves past him, unobtrusively putting himself between Rodney and the maybe-growing alien object. It’s currently about the size of a medium dog. He eyes the floor around it. “If we really need to get it out of here, can we-”

“Yeah,” Rodney says, hesitantly reading John’s mind about taking a piece of the building with them if all else fails. “But I wouldn’t recommend blowing it up, so that’s going to take a lot of work.” He stomps his foot to needlessly illustrate the solidity of the building. “The ancients designed their stuff to last.”

“It looks like an Earth television box,” Ronon offers, apropos of nothing. He’s frowning. It occurs to John that this might be the first time Ronon has been in the labs, ever, but they needed him to make absolutely sure that no human being could move the box even an inch, and to in so doing confirm that this was a thing to potentially be very worried about.

“A tv isn’t smooth and black all over,” Rodney says. “Or this perfectly square.”

John shrugs. “It could be.” He says it not really because he thinks it's an useful point to make (this is not an Earth tv any more than it is an Earth flight recorder, because then Ronon would never have been called in), but for the disgruntled look Rodney throws his way because of it.

“Should we get a hammer and chisel?” Teyla asks, neatly pulling them back on topic by their conversational ears.

John’s arms feel sore at just the thought of chiselling through Atlantis. “A drill might be-”

Ronon steps forward and gives the box a good kick.

A hush falls over the four of them as they wait. There is an ominously loud creak, then a hiss that has Rodney blanching even as he keeps typing like mad, and suddenly there’s a thin, jagged crack visible. It’s a white line splitting the previously solid black, running right around a corner, and the vague pulsing has stopped but the box still seems more alive somehow than most regular objects. Whatever is inside is bright, bright like blinding, bright like forgetting your sunglasses on a cloudless day in snowy pure white Antarctica bright. Flashbang, John thinks with a spike of nerves, but as he’s still thinking it there’s movement. He doesn’t even have time to draw his gun - it’s just pop, and a bright little circle pops out of the crack in the black box.

It’s a little more yellowish than the light inside seemed, and far easier on the eyes. It floats, hovering in the air right above the box for a second or two before gently, lazily drifting higher, higher until it bumps into the ceiling of the science lab and bounces back a little and then just hangs there, impossible, suspended in the air, and-

“It’s a sun,” John says, finishing his own thought for once. And it is - a yellowish ball of light about the size of a tennis ball, but with blunt spikes of darker yellow light attached, exactly the way a kid would draw a sun with crayons, just minus the little happy face in the middle.

And then it’s pop and when John looks down he sees another, identical little sun has just escaped the box, and while he’s still looking it’s pop, pop, poppoppoppop-

It gets pretty noisy for a moment, but as all of the little suns drift up to join the first one near the ceiling, they make a very pretty sight. “The Festival of Lights,” Teyla says. She sounds awed, but also like she understands now, so John fully relaxes. “We celebrated it on Athos on the darkest day of every year. This is the most beautiful decoration I’ve ever seen.”

For every pop Rodney counters with at least five taps to his tablet, but now his fingers are slowing down. “It seems harmless,” he says, and he sounds almost dismayed. “Like very scientifically advanced fireworks, with less danger of losing a finger. How did you know?”

All eyes turn to Ronon. Ronon shrugs. “Sometimes you have to bang on the tv to make it work. Sheppard taught me that.”

“Well,” John says, as an excuse to release the breath that’s been caught in his throat. It’s gone silent. The previously lit crack in the box is dark now, and the box is just a weird broken black box, clearly having done what it was supposed to do. When he cautiously nudges it with his foot it moves with the ease of empty carton. “Yeah. Well done, buddy. You solved a science problem before McKay.”

“No!” Rodney protests, easily offended. “He very much did not.” He waves his tablet at the ceiling in a borderline threatening gesture, and a few of the suns bob in response, apparently sensitive to disturbances of the air. Light as a feather, as well as the sun. “What he solved is the Ancient equivalent of a piñata.”

John pats Rodney’s back. “Just be glad Ronon used the right definition of bang. This could have ended very differently.”

“What exactly did you teach him when we were on Earth?”

John rolls his eyes, elects not to answer that, and instead goes looking for a broom to see if he can make the horde of little suns bounce along the ceiling a little more to make Teyla smile.

[sweetbunnykook]

Forget-Me-Not

Adopted!JK x Detective!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble

Warning: taboo relationship, angst (manipulation/unhealthy boundaries)

Word: 1,855

Synopsis: Jungkook prepares to surprise you during Halloween but you have other plans that fuel his insecurities.  

A/N: I combined most, if not all, of the drabble ideas you guys sent me. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this drabble that is borderline a oneshot! ♥ Everyone had such wonderful ideas I couldn’t just choose one. I also had to force myself to stop writing because it was going to turn into a chapter. 

Jungkook just wanted to spend Halloween with you in peace. That was it. Just you and him, in front of the television, wrapped under a single blanket, wearing matching clothes and drinking warm tea. He even planned to order food from your favorite fried chicken restaurant with the little money he made doing art commissions. It was supposed to be a surprise and you were supposed to be jumping with joy when you see him holding two tea mugs in his hands, wearing a pumpkin patterned pajama pants and a large plain white cotton shirt big enough for you to climb inside in its warmth.

Is it surprising that when you walked downstairs, saddle bag in hand, dressed in an outfit he’s never seen before (a dress that was certainly revealed too much of your decolletage), he would be furious?

“Where are you going, mom?”

He can feel his stomach drop when your bright eyes suddenly dimmed upon seeing the cups in his hand and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I…” You struggle to find the words, knowing that his gaze is steadily trailing up and down your body. You’ve never dressed like this for any of your previous dates and Jungkook dreaded that you were going to end up in another man’s house, in another man’s bed, and come back reeking of this bastard’s cologne.

“I have a d-date,” your meek reply comes as you walk down the last few flights of stairs and open the shoe closet, grabbing a pair of boots and a clean pair of socks, your back towards him.

“With the same guy?” Jungkook’s voice lowers and you can hear the clinking of porcelain as he sets down the mugs on the coffee table, next to the rental DVD.

You nod. “Yeah.”

When you risk a glance towards him, you regret it immediately. Jungkook’s fists are clenched at his sides, his jaw is tight, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

“Kookie,” you sigh, dropping your shoes back onto the rack to stride towards his tall figure cloaked in semi-darkness. “I’ll be back soon, maybe around midnight, okay?”

“The last time you said that you didn’t even come home. I was worried sick.” Jungkook pulls away from you when you reach to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m a detective,” you chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. The pitter-patter of the rain outside isn’t helping nor is Jungkook’s anger seeping out of every pore. “You know there’s nothing to worry ab-“

“It’s easy for you to say, mom. It’s easy for you to pick up your bag and go because you never look forward to our plans like I do. You never think for a second that maybe I want to spend the night with you and not have to wait for your leftover time like…like a pet.”

Has he always felt that way? It seems almost impossible given you spent your waking hours showering him with affection.

You pressed your lips together. “I didn’t know we were going to spend time today and I always, always prioritize your needs above mine. Don’t ever say that to me. Where is this coming from? Jungkook, if you need me to-”

Whatever you said might have struck a nerve within him for he flinched backwards, shaking his head.

“Forget it,” Jungkook takes the mugs back from the coffee table and paces towards the kitchen, knowing you’re trailing behind in concern as you struggle once more to keep him calm.

He knows he’s being unfair. He knows that you may have forgotten to tell him you were going on a date today, that it was his fault for planning a surprise on a holiday when you’re free from work. You only went on your rare dates on your day offs when you didn’t need to go grocery shopping or tend to other household responsibilities. The fact that you bought a new dress tells him all he needs to know about how much you looked forward to this night, even forgiving his snide remarks about your date when you first introduced him months ago. You don’t deserve to be treated this way and it makes Jungkook’s eyes fill with tears not just from frustration but from guilt that you ended up with him, a burden. This wounded, bleeding burden of a boy who falls more and more in love with you as the years go by.

Jungkook hates your little dates where you most likely had sex before coming back to him. The idea of a man kissing your soft nipples, your full hips, the inside of your thighs – it makes him sick with wrath. Jungkook hates that you still see him as the boy you took under your wings all those years ago. Jungkook hates that you’re so comfortable walking around in a towel in front of him because you don’t see him as a man; he knows you would never be that carefree with a date. He owns a piece of you that no other man can see. But his punishment is that he’s kept in this mold of the adopted son he desperately wants to be rid of. Changing his body to become stronger, becoming independent, pretending to be mature most of the time about the idea that a stepfather can appear in his life at any time – Jungkook was sick of it. He was sick of it all.

He throws the mugs in the sink, the two porcelain clattering in cacophony as it hits the sink and cool tea swirls down the drain.

“Jungkook…” your strained, mournful voice reaches his ears and his heart breaks. He can’t breathe, he needs to get out of there, he needs to get out fast.

“Kookie, wait-” You reach for him once more but he turns back into the living room, taking the rental DVD in his hands before he takes the flyer for your favorite restaurant laying haphazardly and balls the paper in his fist.

He skips up the stairs, noticing that you didn’t follow him this time. Somehow that makes it hurt even more.

Jungkook throws the DVD and paper on his bed and opens his closet, reaching for a pair of black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. He sheds off the plain shirt and pajama pants (so much for October festivity) and quickly change into the black set, keeping an ear out for the sound of the front door closing. He grabs his cellphone, his wallet, and keys off the textbooks stacked on his desk and shoves them into his pocket. For a moment he catches his reflection from the mirror pinned to the closet door and Jungkook decides, from his teary red face, that he hates himself more than he hates your dates and your cluelessness.

He’s gotten taller, much taller, stronger, smarter, but emotionally he is still the boy you rescued all those years ago. He’s still the boy who looked up at you and called you his superhero and smiled through the bloody black and purple bruises on his face when you held him and sobbed.

Jungkook slams the door shut behind him as he walks away from the comfort of his bedroom. Stepping down the stairs, he’s surprised to see you sitting on the couch, your feet still bare and your phone clutched in your hand. Why haven’t you left?

“Kookie I’m-“ You pause. You take notice of his attire and take a deep breath. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Please don’t do this,” your voice cracks and Jungkook grinds his teeth. Yes, he hates himself more than ever. He’s self-centered, dramatic, and immature, he thinks, it’s no wonder you won’t see him as anything other than a child. Hell, being regarded as a dog would be better.  

“Just go on your date, mom. Sorry for ruining your perfect night or whatever and tell him I said hi.”

Jungkook walks past you to grab his backpack. He won’t be able to focus on schoolwork and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go except Jimin’s house yet he slumps the bag over his shoulder anyway.

“I canceled the date. I’m not going anywhere,” You grab his sleeve, halting him in his tracks before wrapping your arms around him. He’s gotten so large that your fingers barely touch when you hold him.

He’s silent for a second, harsh breaths gradually fading to soft sighs when he hears you sniffle once and lay your forehead on his back.

“…You didn’t have to do that.”

You shake your head. “I should have expected that you’d do something special.”

“It’s not your fault…” Jungkook can see the porcelain cups in the sink from where he’s standing. His cup and yours, the handles designed to fit each other like puzzle pieces. “I’m…I’m just…”

How does he admit that he’s throwing a tantrum because he wants you all to himself? How does he admit that it was unreasonable of him to expect you to read his mind? How does he admit that his heart feels like it’s about to pounce right out of his chest when you’re not near him? It was embarrassing enough for him to slip into your bed at night while you sleep, lying about his nightmares to earn the privilege of your gentle fingers brushing through his hair in your sleepy daze. He might die of shame if he admits that he’s been daydreaming about a night like this when you can be at ease and when he can pretend he’s your lover and pull you close.

Halloween has always been a tradition – not a strict tradition but a tradition nonetheless that is not disrupted by strangers. He’s way past the age of bouncing off the walls for candy and horror movies but he’d hoped that, the older he gets, this ritual of spending time with you and living out a part of his fantasies during special days won’t perish.

“I’m sorry, mom.” Jungkook murmurs at last, letting the rattle of the kitchen windows from the rain keep him grounded. “I…I didn’t mean to be like this. I wanted to surprise you and I just…I got angry and it wasn’t right. I’m sorry. Can you call him again and-?”

“No.”

Jungkook swallows. Forgiveness feels so out of reach. It feels…

“I don’t want to call him.” You continue. “I want to be here with you…if you’ll have me.”

He turns, making you tilt your head towards him to reveal your watery eyes, and wrap his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your perfume smells like heaven. You smell like heaven and you feel ever better pressed to him; soft against solid, molded like the puzzle piece patterned mugs in the sink.

“Do you even have to ask, mom?…I want you here with me. It’s…it’s okay, right? You won’t be mad at me?”

You peck his cheek, tucking your sorrow deep inside like the same way you’ll fold this new dress into a bag and return it to the boutique.

“I will never make you feel alone.”

[phantom-curve]

did I shatter you? pt. 4

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

The tea in Julie’s mug had gone cold by the time Luke finally sat up properly. His body was hunched over, exhaustion and sadness etched in every line. When he looked up at her she could see the still drying saltwater stains on his cheeks. He reached up to scrub at his red rimmed eyes with the palm of his hand. Julie placed her full mug down on the table, slipping off the couch to sit on the floor in front of Luke.

The light from the fire cast shadows across his face. He looked so forlorn and broken andyoung. Like the Luke that had come running to her after the last big fight with his parents. Like the Luke that had coaxed her out of the darkness of losing her mom. Like the Luke she had fallen in love with when they were just teenagers with the entire world at their feet and stars in their eyes. Her entire being ached. She ached for Luke and herself. For the life they had lost and the pain they had both suffered in silence. If only they had been able to talk like this back then. They might have been able to avoid this past year of anguish. Instead they had hidden behind the band and their lyrics. Too many assumptions, too much hurt and blame, and not enough authentic communication had toppled them like a house of cards.

“Alex and Reggie told me I should call you. Told me I had to fix things, but I didn’t think anything was broken.”

His voice was hoarse, scratchy and raw with emotion. He didn’t reach for her. Just studied her face in the dim light like he was seeing her for the first time.

“God, Julie, what happened to me? How did I become that guy?”

Julie inhaled sharply. He wasn’t really asking her, she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself.

“I don’t know, Luke. It crept up on both of us. I didn’t even see it until it was already a part of our everyday normal. I didn’t know how to stop it by then, we had been living it for so long.”

“It wasn’t just Bobby or any other bullshit excuse though. You’re right, I was cruel to you, and I didn’t even see it. Even at the end, I thought you would come to me because that’s what you always did, and I never once thought that I should be the one going to you. Even though it was always me picking fights and...I just...how could I do that to you? How could I hurt someone I love so much like that?”

His voice was bleak, the expression in his eyes borderline hopeless. It almost sounded like he was begging her to give him the answers. She didn’t have any though. She hadn’t ever figured it out either, and it still stung when she thought about how he hadn’t ever turned that rage on Reggie or Alex. Only Julie got that kind of special treatment.

“I don’t know, Luke.” She repeated.

It was all she could offer him. Her hands flexed against her thighs, desperate to touch him.

“I ruined us, and it was for nothing. I ruined the best thing in my life for nothing.”

The last statement sounded like it was meant more for him than for her. It was filled with rage and guilt and shame. His head dropped. Her chest burned.

“It wasn’t just you.”

She had to be honest. He was opening himself fully. She had to do the same. He raised his head to look at her, confusion and self-loathing clear on his face.

“I was too quick to adapt. When you first started lashing out at me, I didn’t push back. I knew you were hurting, and I wanted to do anything I could to ease that heartache. At first, I let you treat me like that because I thought it was a way to take the pain away. And then I just got so used to it, and I kept taking it until we snapped. It’s not all on you.”

He was shaking his head, frowning and opening his mouth to argue, but this was something Julie was sure of. He was responsible for the brunt of the emotional pain endured during their relationship, but a relationship was more than one person. She had some amount of blame in this too. She cut him off before he could get the first denial out.

“No, Luke, I’m at least a little responsible for this too. I’m not some weak little damsel in distress. I knew what you were doing wasn’t okay, and I let you do it anyway. I changed myself to become a person who would accept that kind of treatment. I put our relationship over my own well-being, and it was wrong. I should have stood up for myself and I didn’t. And then I cut and ran instead of fighting for myself.”

“I shouldn’t have put you in the position to have to defend yourself against me! I should have been the one protecting you, not hurting you!”

Luke’s hands fisted in his hair, body folding over again. Julie couldn’t stop herself anymore. She closed the space between them in seconds, throwing her arms around his body. He didn’t hesitate to catch her, his own arms snaking around her waist as he buried his face in her neck. He sobbed into her skin, the muffled cry of “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” repeating over and over again. She could feel his tears soaking into the collar of her shirt and her arms tightened. His hair still smelled like the peppermint shampoo she used to buy him. Her heart pounded out a familiar rhythm in her chest, the same word repeating in her mind in time with the beat: homehomehome.

They stayed in the embrace for a long moment. A river of comfort flowed back and forth between them. It felt like Luke’s soul was seeking out every frayed edge of her own, smoothing out and repairing the damage that had lingered for the last year. Their bodies shuddered in time, both of them pulling away at the same moment to look into each other’s eyes. Luke looked like a new man, determination shining from his pores.

“What happens now?”

He was asking her, but she already knew what he wanted. She just wasn’t sure she could give it to him. She gently disentangled herself, scooting back just a bit so there was enough space between them for her to breathe. Insecurity reared its ugly head, reminding her of all the reasons they had ended in the first place.

“I don’t know, Luke.”

She sounded like a broken record. Her fingers twitched restlessly. She reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, forcing herself to take a deep breath and try again.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

His eyes lit up, and she pushed on.

“But just loving you isn’t enough. What you did...the way you treated me...I can’t go through that again.”

The light was dimming the more she spoke, but she had to get it all out, even if what she was about to say would undoubtedly hurt him. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I can’t trust you like I used to. You broke something in me, and I still haven’t been able to fully fix it.”

He stared at her for a second before slowly reaching out with his palms up. He left them lingering in the space between them. Heart in her throat, Julie reached out to lay her own hands in his. She looked up from where his thumb rested gently on the back of her hand, eyes locking on his, drowning in the depths of emotion she found there.

“I love you more than anything else in this entire world. More than Sunset Curve and The Phantoms. More than my parents and Alex and Reggie, and I will even tell them that to their faces. There is no me in this world without you. No music worth making, no band worth having, without you by my side. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you whether we’re together or not. You don’t have to forgive me now or ever. You don’t have to take me back. Just give me a chance. Let me earn back your trust. I want my best friend back, Jules. I’ll do anything, just...please, give me a chance?”

Julie’s head swam, pain and fear and hope and love all warring within her, fighting for dominance. It was so hard to think when he was staring at her with those puppy dog eyes, offering her the world. She wanted more than anything to believe him. Wanted to go back to the golden age of their relationship when everything had been so new and shiny and perfect. The memories of how it had ended haunted her. She didn’t think she would be able to repair herself from a second heartbreak at Luke’s hands. He could read the doubt on her face. His hands tightened around hers, pulling her attention back to his face.

“Just a chance, Jules. That’s all I’m asking for. You can give me rules to follow. You can sic Alex and Reggie on me if I start to fuck up again. Hell, I’ll ask them to do it myself. I’ve been a ghost this last year. I don’t exist without you in my life somehow.”

Her heart screamed at her to tell him yes. Her head begged her to be careful. Her soul yearned to be complete the way it had been when Luke was at her side. His eyes pleaded pleasepleaseplease.

“I’m not going to say yes right now...but...maybe...we can try.”

She was cut off by his loud whoop. Without warning, he launched himself at her. He tackled her to the ground, squeezing the air from her lungs, whispering thank you over and over again like a prayer. She wasn’t sure if he was thanking her or the universe.

“Luke!”

She pushed against his shoulders but couldn’t keep the smile from her voice. He pulled back just far enough to look her in the eyes, leaving the rest of his body on top of hers. Her skin burned under his touch. His eyes were shining brighter than she had ever seen them before. The smile on his lips nearly took her breath away. She forgot just how pretty he was. She stuttered for a second before forcing herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. She kept her eyes closed, hoping it would help her keep her head.

“You have to be serious about this. I’m willing to try and be friends again, but I’m not making any promises. And I’m not promising that it will ever become anything more than that. I’m gone the second you pull anything similar to that shit.”

He didn’t respond. She slowly peeked her eyes open. His face was inches from hers, something she couldn’t quite identify coloring his features.

“Julie Molina.”

He said her name with a type of reverence that could only be called devotional. A wave of butterflies rioted in her stomach.

“There is nothing that matters more to me than loving you the way you deserve every day for the rest of forever. I know it’s just words now, but I swear, I will never hurt you like that again. If it takes me the rest of my life, I will prove to you that you can trust me.”

Julie felt stunned. She hadn’t ever heard that much sincerity in Luke’s tone before. Hadn’t ever heard him speak with such passion unless it was music related. He was serious. Her heart felt a little lighter, the hole shrinking ever so slightly. He was staring at her with so much love she had no choice to believe him.

“Okay.”

It was just one small whispered word, but they both knew it was more than that. It was an eternity, stretching out in front of them. A new beginning, like the dawning of a clear morning after a night of thunderstorms.

The exhaustion seemed to hit them at the same time. It had been a rollercoaster of a night, the emotional whiplash draining both of them. In another moment of unspoken agreement, Luke stood, offering his hand to Julie, pulling her tight to his side when she was on her feet. He held her for a minute, both of them secretly reveling in the fact that they could finally touch like that again. They moved together to dump their untouched tea in the sink and shuffle into the bedroom they had once shared. Both of them craved the kind of healing they could only find in the other’s arms, even without speaking of it. Julie didn’t let herself linger over the implications, too tired to fight the comfort Luke’s body offered. They fit together seamlessly, bodies relaxing at the homecoming. Julie never realized how big this bed had felt without Luke’s limbs wrapped around her own. For the first time in a year, sleep came easily.

When she woke up the next morning and found Luke in the kitchen making coffee with the sun streaming through the window behind him, it felt like the universe had finally been realigned. There were still wounds to stitch and trust to be earned. Julie didn’t know what would happen with her solo career or the band. Couldn’t be sure that Luke wouldn’t renege on his promises once they left their New York bubble and went back to the snake pit of LA. They weren’t magically back to what they had been, but where there had once only been a dead end, they now had a new path to try. What had once been shattered was now on the precipice of repair, the glue just starting to set. Luke turned to see Julie standing in the doorway and the smile on his face promised a lifetime of atonement and devotion. They had a chance again. Julie stepped into the sunny room, her footsteps marking the first page of their new story.

[makemadej]

So today two of my worlds collided in the best way: Ryan and Shane were guests on one of my favorite podcasts. I was totally blindsided by this since there was no promo for it whatsoever (who knows why, maybe they forgot when the release date was, maybe they’ve been taken captive by skeletons, maybe they’re just terrible at promoting themselves), and it killed me that I couldn't listen to the whole thing until after work. It's over two hours long and podcasts aren't everyone's cup of tea, so I'm capturing the ghoul boy highlights here for anyone who wants them.

Wine and Crime is a weekly podcast hosted by three ladies who are feminist as fuck and pair a different crime with a different wine each episode. This time, the theme was Pandora's Box crimes, aka "crimes that were only supposed to be minimal but ended up being a shitshow." Inevitably, they paired it with boxed wine.

Enter the ghoul boys.

Ryan, on Franzia: I do enjoy slappin' a bag Shane: I've seen Ryan slap some bags in my day. [...] Ryan: Shane has to tell me to stop slapping the bag sometimes Ryan: I used to do this thing in college called Tour de Franzia. It was like a drinking game, but it was an obstacle course, and at every checkpoint you had to slap the bag. [beat] I made great decisions in college.

Ryan: You say "nice stream" to the sound of liquid being poured into something, it maybe is not the best...it may not communicate well over audio. Shane: Hey, nice stream Ryan: Nice stream. That's what I say every time I go up to a urinal. To any guy. Tap him on the shoulder. Shane: Men in public bathrooms, we all compliment each other's streams. Ryan: Yeah. It's best if you whisper it. At close proximity. I get really close so he can smell the Popeye's on my breath that I just got at the terminal and I whisper "nice stream."

Ryan: We're drinking the 14% Four Lokos seltzer over here [borderline unintelligible banter about playing Edward Four Lokos hands]

Ryan, on the description of himself on a "which BFU guy are you" quiz: That sounds like the description of a golden retriever.

Shane: I know there's one quiz that was popular where the description [of me] was entirely wrong.

Ryan, increasingly high pitched: A fan sent you all these goat parts?

[What is your favorite wine varietal?] Ryan: Hmmmmmm... [Do you know what a varietal is?] Shane, with gusto: No!

Ryan: Wine to me is just wine at this point. I'm not that far on my wine journey. I was a beer guy that's transitioning over into wine. Shane: Well, it sounds like you're not doing a very good job. Ryan: You know what, I said I am LEARNING, Shane. So why don't you get off your high horse and tell them what kind of wine you like? Shane: I don't even know! Ryan: Mr. "I don't know what a wine varietal is" Shane: Yeah. But I don't call myself a wine guy Ryan: I never said I was a wine guy! I said I was-- Shane: You were like, "Oh, have you see that Netflix documentary, Sommelier?" Ryan: First off, I didn't say it like Elmo from Sesame Street, but I also said I was transitioning!

Shane: I like some red wines and some white wines Ryan, imitating him: I like the stuff with the alcohol in it...and sometimes it has bubbles and makes my tummy feel good and uhhhh, yeah Shane: Yeah, I don't really know... Ryan: Sick answer Shane: There's a kind my girlfriend always gets that's really good but I don't...I can't remember the name of it Ryan: That's a long name. That's actually a good name for a wine! The Kind My Girlfriend Gets, ever had it? They sell it at Trader Joe's. Shane: I'm not even trying to do like a...*weird cowboy voice* "I'm a man, so I don't drink wine. Only my girlfriend does." I like wine, I've just...I've never been good at wine. And wine makes me real sleepy, so I almost never have it. Ryan: That's why I don't drink red wine...and it also makes me look like I've been chewing on mud clots or something.

[What is one "unsolved" case that you're pretty sure you've solved?] Ryan: What was that one where I was like, I think I've pretty much solved this one? The Black Dahlia I'm pretty sure was George Hodel. I'm almost positive of it. Shane: Wasn't there like a missing child one that we thought we had sorta gotten? Bobby Dunbar Ryan: Bobby Dunbar. I think we had solved that one. Uh... Shane: We can never concretely say that we've solved it. Ryan: No, we can't legally, but I'm pretty sure D.B. Cooper's bones are an ornament in some pine tree out there in the Pacific Northwest [...] Shane: The case is pretty closed on Amelia Earhart, too. Ryan: I don't think so. Shane: Yeah, she got eaten by crabs. Ryan: I think it's closed in your mind. That's what you'd like to have happened. Shane: That's what happened. Ryan: Giant, man-eating crabs. It's amazing that those exist. I saw one dragging a coconut. Not hard to imagine that coconut being a head. Shane: Yeah. Of an aviatrix. Ryan: Of an aviatrix, yeah. The most famous aviatrix of all time!

Ryan: Fun fact, shaking my bones is what I call dancing.

Shane: I'll say that Ryan is 100% that bitch. Ryan: I'd say 0% actually. Shane: See, that's what makes you that bitch. Ryan, cracking up: What about you, Shane? Shane: Mm. 45.

Ryan: I don't know if people would like me walking into a room trumpeting "I'm 100% that bitch!" every time I walk in a room. I think there's nuance to it. You can't always be 100% that bitch. [...] Or if I'm trying to make an omelet and I can't make the flip...not 100% that bitch in that moment. I'll tell you, it's the bane of my existence Shane: You can't make an omelet? Ryan: It's impossible! Shane: It's not. Ryan: It's really hard! I don't think I have the proper pan. Shane: It sounds like you don't. Do you have a good spatula? Ryan: Maybe, I dunno... Shane: WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE? DO YOU HAVE A GOOD SPATULA OR NOT? It’s a yes or no question! Ryan: I think it might be, I don't know! I have no idea where it came from, I got it from my mom. Maybe she bought it from Sur la Table? Shane: I was gonna say, go to *French accent* Sur la Table, get a little free espresso... [degenerates into arguing about French pronunciation]

Shane on working at Abercrombie: I was in the stock room, they didn't let me up front. Not my beat. [...] Me and my friends...would just hang out in the back and listen to music and eat cookie dough. And they'd be like "we need you to fold this box of girly shirts" and we'd be like "ah, okay!" and then we'd just take the box and be like "this is too many shirts." And we'd just throw it...this was the area like a loft area where you couldn't see anything. We'd just throw the boxes so we wouldn't have to fold the shirts. They're probably still there. Ryan: Sounds like you were a great employee.

Shane: I started as Buzzfeed as an intern. Ryan had started a month or two before me. So we came up in the same intern class together.

Ryan: I did grip and electric work for two years, which is basically like lifting heavy gear essentially on set and I realized I didn't want to do that for ten years before I even had the chance to sniff a camera.

Ryan: I filmed powerpoints for doctors...I did feel like a prisoner at times when I was there, listening to a doctor from USC's Keck medical school talk about irritable bowel syndrome for two straight hours...I was a couple days away from joining the union...That was concurrent with the irritable bowel syndrome filmings.

Ryan: I chose the internship at Buzzfeed not knowing what it was, met the Shaniac over here, and then, um...we went through that program, which was kind of like the Hunger Games. We saw all of our fellow interns die. [...] We worked our way up, I eventually made Unsolved.I made unsolved actually with a different host, Brent Bennett. He left the show because he didn't like...I believe the quote was "I don't like these stories anymore." Shane: *dies laughing* Ryan: And I turned to my right and was like, "hey Shane, wanna do this instead?" and he was like "sure" and that's that. And from then on I guess we never looked back.

[Shane, how do you feel about being the second choice?] Shane: I'm fine with it. Really, there was so little fanfare to him asking me. Ryan: No ceremony at all. Shane: 'Cause we were just making stuff left and right at that point and series were not really an established thing at Buzzfeed [...] Even when Ryan had asked me "hey, would you like to be in this?" uh...I was like "yeah, lemme..." Ryan says I checked my calendar. Ryan: Yeah, Shane looked over at his google calendar, saw that next week was open, and was like "yeah, looks like I've got some time" and I was like "sweet, lock it in" and he was like "cool." And then we both put our headphones back on 'cause we sat next to each other at a desk and worked on other things and that was that.

[What is some of the silliest feedback you've gotten about your show?] Ryan: Luckily the fan base is pretty nice. There's plenty of fun, positive comments out there, however, this is one that tickled me the most. A guy somehow found my personal email address and emailed me to let me know. He's like "hey man, love the videos, excellent content to get stoned to. Keep it up, cheers!" I don't know who this man was.

Shane: I do have some hope that Bigfoot is real. A little unlikely. The other one I always root for is Champ in Lake Champlain. Ryan: I don't know why you have such an obsession with Champ. [...] Shane: Champ...there seems to be something fishy going on there. There's something going on in that lake. Ryan: Good pun Shane: Not even. There's something going on there and I've seen that lake and I've looked out at that lake and I've felt something inside me just looking out at it. Ryan: You sure it wasn't just IBS? Shane: We've established that you're the one with IBS Ryan: I'm not the one with IBS! Shane: You joined the union! Ryan: You were the one who almost pooed your pants on an investigation Shane: That's a different story! Ryan: You ate two hot dogs that were served at the baggage claim in Philadelphia Shane: We. Were. Hungry.

Ryan on Dyatlov Pass: I'm gonna double down here. I think it was a yeti. Or, not a yeti. I think it was an abdominal snowman. Shane: Abominable. 

[borderline unintelligible banter about an incredibly ripped yeti doing crunches]

Shane: I'm very content with the mysteries of the universe never being uncovered. It's fine. Ryan: It's frustrating. Shane: You're gonna go to the grave not knowing so many things, so you might as well just give up on them. Ryan: Such a nihilistic way to look at everything.

Shane: If you know anyone who's traveling and they're your enemy, you just call the FBI and say "oh, they're up to no good up there." Ryan: If Shane was flying somewhere I could just say "yeah, I think he's dangerous. I know him. He's the guy who couldn't fit a hat on his big head."

[interlude where they decide to name an anonymous suspect Shane Ryanson]

Shane: It would be funny if this was like the highest escalation of a prank war between two friends Ryan: That'd be a hilarious prank, getting someone thrown into federal prison. Super funny. Gotcha!

Shane: If you're the kind of person who is likely to call in a threat to the FBI solely as a way to get a dig in at your friend, that probably stays with you for life. That's pretty hard-coded into who you are. Ryan: That's true. Especially when you look like an out of work Batman villain [...] If this dude walked into a 7-11, I would drop my Slurpee immediately and run to my car. He's a scary man. I'm out. Slurpee's on the floor.

Shane: I'll tell you this in defense of dolphins, they do have funny little smiles.

Shane, on breaking into Sea World: That seems like an extremely Australian thing to do.

Shane, googling fairy penguins: Yes, it's a wonderful little penguin! He's so small! Ryan: This is great, this is like a dark gritty reboot of Mr. Popper's Penguins.

Shane: Just...to meet someone, get along so well that you each drink a half a liter of vodka together and then go swimming with dolphins and blast some sharks with a fire extinguisher Ryan: ...and then decide, let's top off the night by bringing home a fuzzy little friend Shane: I mean, by that point you've got a winning streak going. You're like, "yeah, we didn't get eaten by sharks! we did swim with the dolphins! Of course we'll steal a penguin!”

Ryan: I bet the penguin actually helped the hangover, to be fair. If I was hungover, I normally just see my blinds shuttered in my room, my shoes are somewhere in the house, but if I found a penguin I'd be like "okay, maybe this isn't so bad." Shane: A rehabilitation penguin. He just hopes on your bed in the morning. Ryan: Just starts smacking me in the face with his little fins. It's great, I love it.

Shane: I think she shouldn't have killed her husband. Have a little faith in his worm farm.

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. VIII ※

here’s sentences from 10 more of jenna’s videos! feel free to change names/pronouns/zodiac signs/etc.! more jenna sentences

OPEN LETTERS

“So I had a bunch of thoughts floating around in my head and I didn’t know what to do with them, so I decided to make them all open letters.”

“Dear open letters: lighten up, man. Take it easy.”

“This is really difficult because I have my contacts in and my glasses on.”

“Why is your dog screaming? Like, literally screaming.”

“I’ve met more new people in the last week of my life than I have in the past year. I don’t know if that’s the saddest thing ever or the most awesome thing ever.”

“Good try, but it needs a little work.”

“What’s your favorite vegetable? Eggplant, said no one.”

“We know you know. You know we know.”

“Stop keeping all the cool stuff for yourselves. It’s selfish.”

“0/10 design, I am very angry.”

“Who thought of this? This is a terrible idea.”

“Dear avocados: you can still fuck yourselves, you’re getting worse.”

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be here? Because something doesn’t seem right.”

“I feel better now.”

“Dear bees: if you’re so endangered, why are there always at least 100 of you in my backyard at any given moment just waiting to give your life and hurt me?”

“You’re a do-nothing. Do you wanna be a do-nothing? Cause right now, you’re a do-nothing.”

“I sprayed hairspray directly into my ear the other day, and it was a horrible experience. I don’t wanna relive it ever again.”

“I like, really, really wanna be your friend.”

“Not everything in life requires crying.”

“We get it, you’re on an emotional roller coaster called life, but aren’t we all?”

“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

FULL FACE USING ONLY HIGHLIGHTERS CHALLENGE

“Yes, finally, a makeup challenge that I can do.”

“I’m ready, I wanna do it, I’m so excited.”

“It feels like I dipped my face in a bowl of nacho cheese.”

“I look like the tin man, but we’re gonna fix it.”

“It’s starting to smell a little like paint thinner, but I think it’s worth it.”

“I want you to be able to see my face in the dark.”

“This is the look I’m going for.”

“I’m gonna use this mascara in the color ‘my parents are disappointed in me’.”

“I wanna be seen from space.”

“I mean, now I’m ready.”

“Get on my level, all other makeup artists.”

“This video has been the highlight of my life.”

BAD HABITS

“I need some tape to tape my eyes open.”

“I’m not secretly addicted to crack cocaine.”

“It’s more of a nervous thing.”

“I’m kinda lazy, so that’s kind hard to do.”

“I can’t help it, cause it makes me feel better.”

“Hey, you wanna stay up for another 3 hours?”

“Better go ahead and watch the entire season right now.”

“Is it rude? Yes. Is it terrible? Yes.”

“I feel like it makes every argument a little less serious.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m helping us in the long-term.”

“Who the fuck invented contacts? Incredible invention.”

“I’m doing what they would want me to. I’m living my best life.”

“I don’t really like to throw things out, because things are so good, why would I throw this out?”

“That is not an appropriate thing to do with your belongings.”

“A little bit of chaos is good for your kitchen or your house, not a lot though.”

“I’m borderline too much.”

“I somehow refuse to charge anything ever.”

“I’m the most annoying person.”

“I have a really bad habit about being very nitpicky about not even the things that matter in life.”

“That fuckin’ pillow needs to go there.”

“Don’t fucking touch that, or I will kill you.”

“I’m very sorry. I’m working on it.”

“He knows that he owns my soul.”

“This is the reality that I’ve created for myself.”

“I get locked out all the time.”

“That’s not a habit, it’s just a thing.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Have you seen this dog yet? I found it.”

“That is the spice of life, am I right?”

“I feel vulnerable. I always do. You know that.”

REVIEWING BAD APPS 2

“It’s just fuckin’ funny, man, okay?”

“Whose life is this?”

“Here we motherfuckin’ go.”

“This app can’t be good for anyone.”

“This is not legal. There’s no way they can do this.”

“This is disgusting, you know that?”

“I give that a get out of my ear/10.”

“I’ve never been happier to play rock paper scissors with a stranger.”

“Blink if you’re being held captive.”

“We were playing rock paper scissors and now we’re buying a bikini.”

“This got so fucking creepy!”

“This is a work environment…!”

“What the fuck is this job you got, girl, you’re better than that!”

“This is what happens if you do drugs once.”

“10/10 idea for a tattoo.”

“This is criminal.”

“I think that’s sexy Christmas, and worth a dollar.”

“That is a demon.”

“That was weird and sad.”

“That was so aggravating!”

“Can he see us?”

“That is the most legendary app of all time.”

“Don’t touch my hat, what is wrong with you?”

MY BOYFRIEND TEACHES ME JIU JITSU

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“This doesn’t sound like the sport for me.”

“This doesn’t sound like a sport at all.”

“You can strangle someone to death.”

“Am I allowed to lick? Spit? Blow on you? Scream loudly? Sing a song?”

“It’s basically the same rules as Kindergarten; don’t be a complete asshole and spit on people.”

“Sounds like a disrespectful sport, that’s what it sounds like.”

“Is there gonna be snacks?”

“Please don’t break my arm.”

“No, you can’t sing that.”

“One, two, three, goodbye.”

“It felt wrong.”

“That’s really not allowed.”

“Don’t do that with your tongue.”

“Can’t you just kill them with your kindness?”

“Oh my fuck, you’re heavy.”

“My leg hurts, is that normal?”

“I don’t want to choke you, I love you.”

“It doesn’t look very threatening when I do it.”

“Don’t you want to choke me right now?

“I love you, but don’t do that.”

“Ow, for fuck’s sake!”

“Whose hand is that?”

“What do you call this? Is it called ‘sleepover’?”

“Why would anyone want to do this?”

“Don’t do it, I tried it, it’s a bad idea.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“I feel like I didn’t even get a workout, I just got wet.”

ROAST YOURSELF CHALLENGE

“You know, I don’t eat beef, but, if I did, I would like it roasted.”

“You were cool in 2012, the end.”

“You’re actual trash.”

“You got a Masters Degree and don’t use it.”

“Not cool, man. Clarinets are easy to misplace.”

“The fuck was that, a Lion King reference?”

“Can’t even trust you to not make it weird for even one second.”

“I’m not making it weird, you’re making weird.”

“Ya nasty. Get a manicure.”

“You should grow up and get a job.”

“You have a radio show because your face is better for radio.”

“Where is your top lip?”

“I watched you bite your own toenail the other day.”

“Your hair is stupid!”

ASMR MUKBANG UNBOXING GAMING TUTORIAL

“Can someone fucking help you?”

“I hear that they have billions of dollars and lots of Mexican food.”

“I would prefer neater handwriting, but this slop-fest will have to do for now.”

“They only fill the chips up to about here.”

“These have been sitting out for a little while, so they’re kind of stale.”

“It tastes a little like the long line I waited in to get this.”

“Did you do anything fun today at school?”

“I got it at Target.”

“It smells good, but it’s a lot, you know?”

“There’s a tag that says something about getting arrested if you take it off.”

“Am I going to jail now?”

“I’ve been to that bitch’s house, and I can’t get Kylie lip kit.”

“I hope this was everything you wanted ever.”

REACTING TO MY OLD VIDEOS (300TH VIDEO)

“It’s hard to watch yourself, and it’s cringey, especially if it’s old.”

“Oh, man, this is brutal.”

“A very nice young girl with a very large chip on her shoulder.”

“I’m still incredibly embarrassed and ashamed.”

“Look at this tan, though… look at this tan.”

“There was a fire at my job, and, like a good employee, I put the fire out with a fire extinguisher.”

“I was working at a tanning salon, and I was like, this is a good look.”

“I am past this phase, thankfully.”

“It looks like it feels like Doritos because it did feel like Doritos.”

“I’ve come a long way.”

“Those things are demonic-looking.”

“The voice is very jarring.”

“It’s a lot. If you could just dial it back, like, a bunch of notches, that’d be really great.”

“I mean, I can’t say that I blame you.”

“I can’t even fully understand what I’m saying.”

“He filmed the whole thing on my laptop.”

“I’ve been the same since day one, so…”

“The worst quality, the worst audio, just terrible. Terrible all around.”

“She seems like a nice girl.”

“Jenna, I feel like you’re throwing your life away.”

“I think my entire life will be a cycle of me looking back at everything I’ve ever done and being like, ‘this is horrible. I hate it’.”

“I hate you for this.”

“This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It genuinely pissed people off.”

“People were so mad at me.”

“It felt like people hated me personally.”

“Everyone’s just thinking that I’m some alcoholic.”

“I certainly feel that I’ve changed a lot as a person.”

“I’ve said lots of things that I probably shouldn’t have said.”

“It means everything to me. I just really appreciate it more than I could ever possibly tell you.”

“I changed my life.”

“Thank you so, so, so, so much for being kind to me, and caring, and giving me a chance to learn from my mistakes.”

“This is the most fun, most cool, most amazing thing that I could ever ask for.”

THOUGHTS FROM A BATHTUB 2

“Petition to make formal bath time a thing.”

“You can’t fit a square peg in a round hole, but you can light everything on fire.”

“They already make hot sauce, but why don’t they make cold sauce for food that’s too spicy?”

“I think it should be socially acceptable to sprint anywhere you want to. It’s faster, and I’m in a hurry.”

“One time, I wished upon a cloud.”

“The word tabletop is redundant.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the coach.”

I think alarm systems would be more effective if, instead of alarm noises, they just shouted out the entire Gettysburg Address.”

“One time, your parents had sex with each other.”

“I think a really dirty, lazy person invented Febreeze.”

“I will now perform the opening song “Bonjour” from “Beauty and the Beast”.”

“I feel vulnerable right now. I feel very vulnerable and out there.”

JENNA’S RATCHET FASHION BOUTIQUE: DOG COSTUMES

“I was genuinely baffled by it.”

“I am a mere mortal, not a crafting god.”

“I feel like this is the fairest way to do this, to please everyone.”

“This could get very dicey, but let’s do it, I’m ready.”

“Now you’re filled in, congratulations, you’re welcome.”

“This is really, really bad.”

“I don’t really know what my plan is.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”

“I hope I don’t regret this.”

“Why wait for Halloween to make your dreams come true?”

“Much to your, and my, surprise, this actually works.”

“Is it overkill? Yeah.”

“See something cool? Make a mediocre version of it.”

“Please work, please work.”

“I don’t have any other ideas, there is no Plan B, this has to work.”

[dreams-of-wings]

Impossible (3/8)

Imagine Billy Hargrove with a Mixed/Biracial S/O

Warnings: Racism, swearing, mild violence, homophobia, homophobic slurs, sexual harassment, some angst. These warnings are serious y'all. This part deals with homophobia and the next part probably also will. I am trying really hard to keep this gender neutral so everyone can enjoy it while also acknowledging that some of my readers may be male (there was a really bad stigma surrounding the LGBT+ community in the 1980's hence the reason for this conflict), but it's a little hard to do that as a new writer and make it seem personal. So I can only hope I do the issue and the story justice. Feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

For the next month and a half the two of you have vaguely become what you would define as ‘friends’.

He acts differently with you because as opposed to Carol and Tommy, you can see though his facade, and will call him out on his shit.

He slowly migrates to the seat next to you in any of the classes you have together.

He eventually coaxes you into sitting in the back with him.

You throw off your teachers and they almost mark you absent.

Billy’s a total distraction in class.

Passes notes to you in class on a regular basis, normally full of smart ass comments on what the teacher is saying.

You still somehow manage to pay attention in class and keep your grades up.

This slightly irks the teachers.

You’ve low-key started bringing a small tape recorder to class to record their lectures, because let’s face it Billy is persistant.

For the most part you both don’t hang out outside of class, but he still stops by your little hiding hole in the library fequently to get patched up.

He hasn’t been beaten in a few weeks but some of his cuts are still healing.

Once they’re gone he starts coming to you for stupid reasons.

“Billy, you’re fine, I don’t see anything.”

“Of course you don’t see it, it’s a paper cut.”

He’s so fucking dramatic.

“What if it gets inflected?”

You dead pan.

He snickers.

Low-key ready to fight him.

He still shoves you and slams your locker, but it’s mostly just to get a rise out of you now.

You can be heading to class, zoned out, and he’ll bump shoulders with you.

The force makes you whip around to look at him.

He smirks, snickers, and winks at you, before continuing on to where ever he’s going.

Carol and Tommy are normally not far behind.

“Watch where you’re going, Poodle.”

He stops calling you 'mutt’ and 'Heinz’ but some how manages to stick to the dog theme.

Tommy and Carol follow up with insults of their own.

“Tragic faggot.”

“Alphabet soup.”

Steve, Nancy, or Jonathan are normally around to put an end to it.

You can no longer take Max home, but the two of you are back to your regular schedule of milkshakes Monday, Wednesday, and then the arcade and milkshakes on Friday.

Chocolate coma Fridays are normally how the day ends.

Billy meets the two of you wherever you are to pick her up.

Max is confused when he doesn’t talk about how much of a hastle she is to take care of when he picks her up.

Even more confused when he orders a stawberry and banana milkshake and joins the both of you (on rare occasions).

Sometimes he comes into the arcade (rare occasion too) and kicks your ass at whatever game you’re playing.

Max never knew he liked games.

He used to play a lot of games when he was much younger.

Doesn’t say this outloud though.

You don’t know it yet, but things start going down hill when Carol and Tommy spread a rumor that your queer.

Carol and Tommy had been talking about it to everyone they knew, and it spread through not just the school, but through the town, like wildfire.

You noticed Monday that people would stare at you, and anytime you glanced at them they would lean to their friends and whisper.

Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan have no idea whats going on, you’ve asked.

You should have known they wouldn’t know, they’re you friends, of course the others wouldn’t dare say anything slandering you to them.

Other than the odd stares and hushed voices following you everywhere you went, your day proceeded as normal.

Go to class.

Go to lunch.

Billy visits, though he eyed you skeptically every now and then, it didn’t seem too unusual.

Back to class.

Tutor Max and your other students.

Take her out for milkshakes.

The workers in the shop who used to eye you for being a different race, were eyeing you again.

Billy came and picked up Max, not giving you so much as a glance.

What the fuck.

You call Nancy and talk about your day for hours.

She’s shocked you consider Billy a friend.

“But he’s a douchbag! And he bully’s you, you can’t be serious!”

“Not anymore, he’s been laying off the racist names.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt, you’re one of the best friends I have.”

“Don’t worry, Nance, I’ll kick his ass if I so much as get a whiff that he’s reverting back to his old ways.”

You won’t, but the idea of things going back the way they were makes you uncomfortable.

Both you and Nancy agree not to tell Steve, who will flip his shit.

The next day you confront Billy about what’s been going on since he seems to be acting off.

You find out about the rumor spreading that your queer.

And appearently thats not all.

According to what’s been going around school, you’re an easy lay too.

And appearently your trying to get in your friends’ pants.

He gets pissed because he thinks you’re lying to him.

“You’re just like everybody else in this bullshit, fake ass, hick town!”

“Billy, you know me! Why would I lie to you? You see this,” you motion between the two of you, “This seemingly impossible friendship that took so long to build, why the hell would I want to fuck this up?!”

He thinks your somehow using him.

The librarian has to kick you both out.

Billy says he’s “done with this bullshit” and leaves.

Throughout the rest of the day you have to deal with remarks that are borderline, if not sexual harassment.

Various people of the opposite and same gender have been taking jabs at you.

“It’s only because you haven’t slept with a boy/girl yet.”

“How about you come by my house after school and I can show you a good time?”

Some one touches you inappropriately as you try to retrieve things from your locker.

Homophobic slurs are thrown your way periodically.

“Queer.” (Honestly the only one I know?)

“Ginger beer,” (I don’t understand this one?)

“Bitch.”

“Switch hitter.”

(I had to google this shit so I could find gender neutral terms, I appologize if these offend anyone. There was honestly more, but I removed them after reading it over for several reasons.)

It’s all honestly getting to be too much and Nancy pulls you aside into a quiet corner to talk to you.

“I heard everything, are you okay?”

“Tell Max and the others I’m not feeling well today and tutoring is cancelled.”

You leave school for the day without saying another word to any one.

You walk to your car, and your back window has been smashed in, the words 'queer’, 'faggot’, 'bitch’, 'slut’, and 'AIDS’ has been painted all over your car in bright red paint.

You let out a shakey sigh and your hands are tembling as you get in and start it up so you can just go home.

You are so done with today.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

submersion

You know the feeling when you get a prompt from someone completely unexpected? Well,, that was my feeling when the amazing, beautiful, and elusive @elenicooper (aka my best friend in the entire world) declared she’d read the deprivation universe, she loved it, and she had requests. And since this gal is, you know, my everything, I dropped what I was doing to write the requested prompt. 

The prompt was: “a Tucker and Wash shower scene, like maybe when Wash is just back but they don’t trust him to shower by himself.  Or a sponge bath.  That would also be yummy.” 

I’m not sure if “yummy” is the word I would use to describe this, but I’ve got showers and Wash and Tucker. Hopefully you all can enjoy!

Warnings: Torture and captivity and trauma. And fluffy aftermath! (you can skip to the second section if whump’s not your style.)

Also on Ao3

The first time they clean him is not too long after they pull him out of solitary confinement and start training him.

He’s back in his cell, nursing a broken nose and bruised ribs among his other injuries that are adding up quickly. He’s not being given time to heal or recover; he gets a few short hours of sleep every night, before Locus or one of the pirates yanks him out and throws him into whatever new exercise they’re putting him through that day.

So far, it mostly just seems to be making him screw up so they can kick him around. That and whatever it is they’re trying to do with the tape. He’s never given instructions, just punished when he screws up, and as a result he’s a mess.

At night, his dreams are filled with his friends being put through similar scenarios.

Locus opens the door and looks down at Wash. Wash doesn’t get up onto his knees the way Locus wants him to, stays curled up in the corner with his back to the wall.

“He’s filthy,” Felix says. “Honestly Locus, don’t you know you need to clean your pets?”

Wash doesn’t react to Felix calling him that, just like he doesn’t react every time the pirates use that word.

Locus tilts his helmet at Wash and holds out a bowl of soup. No spoon, of course—Wash will have to lap at it like a dog or drink, depending on how much Felix wants to humiliate him. Wash considers not eating to spite them, but he did that yesterday, and his stomach growls. Glowering, Wash moves towards Locus—on his hands and knees, because they knock him down every time he tries to walk properly in the cell—and sits up on his knees in front of him.

He’s allowed to drink the soup, for which he’s twistedly grateful, but then comes the other part. Locus holds up the pills.

Wash moves away like he always does—he has no idea what the end goal is for the drugs they’re giving him, but he does know that it makes him unable to fight back and that it can’t be good, whatever it is.

Felix moves forward and grabs him, forcing his jaw open so Locus can force-feed him the pills. Wash gags as they’re pressed in, his head tilted back, and closes his eyes as he feels the tiny little pills go down his throat.

“Time to clean you up,” Felix says cheerfully, and Wash tries to struggle as he’s pulled to his feet and escorted down the hallway.

There’s green tape in front of the bathroom, and Wash has figured out enough of the strange color-code they’re trying to engrain into him to know he needs permission to cross that line.

Locus seems satisfied as he spots Wash’s hesitation as they pull him towards the door. “You have permission,” he says, and pulls Wash over the line.

Wash wants to be relieved when he spots the shower stall, but he somehow doubts that’s how it works.

His hands are wrenched behind his back suddenly and painfully, and Wash winces as the cuffs fasten tightly around his wrists.

Still clothed, he’s shoved forward until he’s into the stall, and Wash turns back to face them, wanting to see what they’ve got planned.

“Five minutes,” Locus says flatly. “If you leave before then, you will regret it.”

Wash almost doesn’t understand when the shower comes to life and an involuntary yelp bursts out of his mouth.

The water is icy cold, and the torrent of it is hard and fast enough that it’s borderline painful, dousing him thoroughly and soaking his clothes through. He tries to move closer to the wall, hoping he can escape the spray, but there doesn’t seem to be a dry spot.

Outside the stall, he can see Felix and Locus. Felix has a knife out, leaving Wash with no doubt as to what his punishment would be if he tries to leave.

Wash tries to inch towards the corner, hoping to find at least a partial respite, but the tile is slippery beneath his bare feet and he falls. His forehead hits the tile hard and he sees stars. He struggles, trying to regain his footing, but his body isn’t responding to his commands.

He hears Felix laughing in the distance, but the noise is faded and muffled.

Wash isn’t sure if it’s the drugs, the cold, or the exhaustion that has been seeping into his bones over these past few days. All he knows is that he can’t get to his feet again, and his teeth are chattering. The water feels like hail against his skin, and Wash grits his teeth and tries to protect his face as best he can, figuring that waiting it out is his best option. At least this way he can deny Felix the entertainment.

The water stops, and Wash tries to force himself to his feet again. But Locus gets there first, grabbing the chain of the handcuffs and forcing Wash to his feet.

“Back to your cell,” Felix says. “Hmm, no that’s not right. A kennel, maybe? That’s where you keep pets, right?”

“Fuck you,” Wash manages, despite the shivers that are racking his body.

Felix laughs, and there’s a flash of silver in Wash’s periphery as Felix presses a knife against his ear. “I’ll punish you for that tomorrow,” Felix purrs. “You need to learn to respect your handlers, Wash.”

Locus says nothing, just keeps dragging Wash down the hallway back to his cell. “Why do you fight, Washington?” He asks as he shoves Wash to the ground. Wash doesn’t get up, just stays there, waiting for Felix or Locus to undo the cuffs. “No one will come for you. You will break. You only fight the inevitable.”

Wash says nothing; he’s already going to be paying for his defiance.

“The cuffs stay on,” Felix says. “Turn down the room temperature, would you? This punishment’s an all-nighter!”

Wash closes his eyes tightly, still shivering. Wet clothes and a cold room all night… he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch a cold.

And it’s going to be miserable even if he doesn’t.

It’s an effective punishment, Wash thinks, even as he curls himself into as tight of a ball as possible to try to find some warmth, even as Locus and Felix leave him, locking the door behind them.

But they won’t break him.

The others are coming for him.

Wash can’t shower on his own, they discover this after a few days.

Every time Tucker tries to gently lead him into the shower, he starts shrinking and yelping and won’t actually clean himself, even when Tucker does the thing he hates most and orders Wash to. He just hunches there and shivers, looking at Tucker with miserable eyes. It’s even worse if Tucker’s not there or tries to leave, then he just curls up in a corner and shakes.

Grey has very gently suggested that maybe Wash can manage a shower if Tucker is in the shower with him.

Tucker’s been resistant to the idea, because it’s not right. There’s boundaries, aren’t there? It feels wrong, doing this when Wash can’t tell him to “fuck off, Tucker” or “stop being a pervert and give me twenty”.

But Wash is absolutely filthy because he keeps wandering into empty storage closets and finding dusty, cobweb filled corners, and nothing is working, so Tucker gives in.

They’re using the showers attached to the hospital, so there’s a modicum of privacy, and Grey’s right on hand if Wash has another panic attack. But for now, Tucker carefully closes the curtains behind them.

At least he doesn’t have to undress Wash—Wash removes his clothes quietly as soon as the outer curtain closes, putting his clothes on the little bench that’s there for that purpose.

Wash isn’t freaking out with Tucker here, which lends credence to Grey’s theory, which is fucked up, because how the hell did Locus and Felix make showering alone a punishment?

But then Tucker remembers that being alone is almost always a punishment for Wash, and he swallows hard.

He promises himself he’ll get an answer from Felix before he stabs that fucker right through the chest. Not the heart. He doesn’t have one.

When the water starts up, Wash relaxes, staring at Tucker expectantly. Tucker awkwardly picks up the bottle of shampoo—his hair is disgusting—and carefully reaches up to start to massage it into Wash’s scalp.

Wash melts, letting out those delighted little noises he makes when he’s not just being touched, but he’s being touched just right, and he closes his eyes and just lets Tucker carefully scrub the shampoo into his hair.

Felix and Locus hadn’t bothered to let Wash keep up his hair dye routine, so there’s more grey in the blonde than there should be. Tucker gently makes Wash turn around so he can scrub the back of his hair, and carefully avoids touching Wash’s neck, which has managed to become even more of a mess of scar tissue than it was the last time Tucker had examined Wash’s neck. Grey has said they had fucked with Wash’s implants, but it’s one thing to know that, and another thing to see the new, fresh looking scars overlapping with the old ones.

Wash starts to shiver, apparently finding the water too cold, and Tucker carefully reaches out and takes his hand, guiding it to the temperature control. “Left for warmer, right for colder, okay Wash? Can you do that?”

Wash hesitates, looking back at Tucker as he withdraws his own hand. Getting the hint, Tucker returns his hand to pressing over Wash’s, giving Wash the excuse he needs to start adjusting the temperature of the water.

The temperature Wash picks is almost too hot for Tucker, but he lets Wash have this; the guy is constantly shivering. Caboose has suggested that Wash was locked in a freezer, and honestly Tucker could believe it. It sounds right up the two assholes’ alleys.

Hair cleaned, Tucker starts to scrub Wash down with a loofa, despite the awkwardness involved. But there’s nothing sexual about it; it’s the furthest thing from Tucker’s mind right now. He just keeps cleaning Wash until he’s confident that there’s no dirt left, then turns off the water.

Opening the inner curtain, Tucker grabs the fluffiest, softest towel that Grif had been able to scrape up, and wraps it around Wash, drying him off. Wash makes a little noise that Tucker can’t place, and then presses his forehead against Tucker’s shoulder. Tucker sighs and runs his fingers through Wash’s wet hair, trying to comb it into some kind of order. After a little while of this, Tucker pulls away and makes Wash get dressed. But as soon as Tucker’s own clothes are on, Wash presses back against him, getting that look in his eyes that usually means he’s expecting to get shoved back. He’s cold, Tucker realizes, spotting the goosebumps up and down Wash’s arms.

“You just got steamed in a shower, and you’re still cold?” Tucker says to Wash, but he pulls Wash in so that he’s pressed against him. Tucker runs warm, always has, and Wash presses into him like he’s a cat who’s found a sunbeam. Wash’s wet hair leaves damp patches on Tucker’s shirt, but Tucker really can’t bring himself to care, not when Wash looks almost unafraid for once, as the shivering fades away.

“I take it we had a success, Captain Tucker?” Grey says, poking her head in. She smiles when she sees them. “Well. It’s good to see we’re making progress, Agent Washington. Don’t you worry, you’ll be back to your old self again before you know it! With a teeny bit of long-term trauma, of course!”

Wash doesn’t respond to Grey, just closes his eyes and clings to Tucker like he never intends to let go.

[woe-and-grow]

tbpdfw*

Those Childhood behaviors & experiences that I now get knowing I have bpd like:

Oh yeah identity issues:

Not understanding why when actors’ spoke about a character they were playing they treated it like a separate person because for me playing pretend meant becoming that character, another version of myself

Transfixing on my friend’s TigerBeat magazines even though I didn’t care about celebrities and getting a subscription myself just for the quizzes 

Getting really attached to specific words or phrases that you thought fit you or that other ppl used to describe you (for me it was “unique”, “empath”, not “normal”)

Using others’ descriptions of you as the way to describe yourself and your role in your own life (has big eyes, has nice smile, intelligent, artist)

Going to the bathroom in school to escape and end up just staring at myself in the mirror and asking who am I? I don’t recognize myself

Taking in bad descriptions of yourself and mean comments as truth as well (annoying, loud, talkative, sensitive, judgmental; you interrupt too much, you complain too much, you always think you’re right)

Getting really attached to IPod Touch backgrounds and saving ones that I thought represented me

Saving screencaps of the results of random silly quizzes as if collecting “facts” about myself

Taking on personality traits from a TV show character I liked and wanted to be like, wanting to dress like them, and wanting ppl to call me by the character’s name as a nickname

Quoting “Forgive and forget, that’s my motto” from a TV show character because it sounded cool and Right even though it wasn’t at all true about myself

Trying to copy some self-harming techniques I had heard to make my depression feel more valid

Throwing out a chocolate with caramel inside even though I liked it because I had previously always said I hated caramel and couldn’t contradict that

Acting like moments between you and another person or you in general were part of a movie and you had an imagined script of what dramatic thing you should say

Wanting attention & validation:

Doing and saying whatever to make adults you liked laugh or give you positive attention 

Finished painting a picture I was proud of (around age 3-5), my friend/neighbor who I’m painting with just finished finger painting something as well. My mom praises her and calls her choice to finger paint creative. I immediately smear my entire picture with my fingers

Carrying around a book of writings that I covered the outside with notes about it being “top secret” and “do NOT read” in the hopes of attracting interest so that someone would try to read it

Telling my best friend I *insert suicide ideation here* to hear her reaction in the hope of concern and attention

Biting at my mouth and lips in attempts of (unsuccessfully) hurting myself and getting attention after reading the book Speak in which a girl does the same in response to trauma

Talking nonstop, loudly and quickly in attempts to be heard; Having problems interrupting people in conversation  as I was used to being ignored and having limited time to be heard

Oversharing in class about personal experiences

Black and white thinking

Seeing my darker shift in mood as the new “bad” me vs the younger happier idealized version of myself as the old “good” me

Drawing images of broken mirrors, broken hearts, and thorny plants to represent this Bad new me vs regular hearts and thriving pretty plants as the old Good me

Seeing ppl as either minor acquaintances or Best Friends, no inbetween  

Feeling like ppl, even best friends, couldn’t get me and therefore we shouldn’t be friends anymore

Getting mad at ppl for having different opinions because they were Wrong

Unstable moods; Depression and thoughts of suicide or self-harm 

Feeling broken, wrong and messed up constantly for not being as happy as I once remembered

Writing dramatic sad poems about a perceived loss of innocence aka growing up which I concluded was the reason for the change

Leaving class just to wander under the guise of going to the bathroom, linger at windows and fantasize about running away somewhere happy

Continuously thinking about and wanting to break the mirrors but knowing it would be messy and probably hurt and I’d get in trouble

Feeling like I wanted to die before knowing what that meant and feeling like no one could save me

Punching my desk and the school porcelain sinks to feel my knuckles sting; scraping my hands with pens by drawing rough repeated lines over the skin to “punish” myself for being “bad”

Self-harming before knowing what that meant

Prolonging eating to punish yourself with hunger but giving into eating eventually

Feeling weak about not being able to commit to doing serious harm to myself

Having episodes of loss of interest in all things I found fun; feeling numb

Erratic sleeping patterns

Wanting to call in sick from school or pretend your sick to stay home because you just feel awful and don’t know why

Wanting to die on the way to school, passively feeling okay with the thought you might get hit by a car or bus

Unstable relationships; Imprinting, FPs, (Perceived) Abandonment & Splitting

Getting super attached to my first best friend in kindergarten and being convinced we’d be best friends forever 

Coming home crying every other day the next year when she got new friends who all didn’t want me around them

“Testing out” a new friend group everyday to try and find a place I felt like I belonged  

Spending recess after recess walking around alone and watching all the other kids play together reasoning everyone has a friend but me

Not playing with other kids who invited me to because they weren’t my Best Friend (cough baby’s first FP cough)

Getting super attached to my new neighbor/friend and jumping at any chance to hang out with her even when she was mean to me or didn’t really want to hang out with me

When she suddenly started avoiding me and stopped talking to me after years of friendship I went from hurt to completely uncaring as if we were never friends at all

At my new school, I once again spent my time trying out new friend groups and dropping them when they didn't fit me and ended up in the small assortment of “rejects” 

Going back and forth between being best friends, feeling better than them, feeling bad that they were putting energy into someone who really didn’t care

Feeling like I was pretending and didn’t care about them as much as they cared about me (none of them were my FP) and therefore we shouldn’t be friends at all 

Getting super attached to a new girl in school because I didn’t have any close friends and we were both Guyanese and therefore somehow connected; saying embarrassing things to her about how I felt detached from other friends and much closer to her in the span of only a few days

She told my other friend that I was like an annoying “dog” following her around and she switched schools within the next few weeks

I immediately into the “she never existed” mode of detachment 

Writing dramatically “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good friend to you when you were such a good friend to me” in my friend’s yearbook (knowing he wouldn’t see it until years later)

Getting super attached to and oversharing with teachers who showed me particular kindness and attention

Getting depressed when I noticed they showed kindness and attention individually to other students

Feeling not good enough or healthy enough to be in relationships

These are my personal experiences but maybe they are relatable to others with bpd.

((This is super long but I just felt like it needed to be said and shown that ppl with bpd often have signs of early symptoms in childhood that get worse later and that they often don’t understand until later. Hope this gives others with bpd some clarity.))

(EDIT: Remembered some more)

((EDIT - PLEASE READ:

This post is making large rounds recently and I feel I need to address it. A lot of time has passed since I made this post and I am in a much better place than I was when I made it. All of what I posted here is still true, in that they are my personal experiences. HOWEVER, I am no longer certain if bpd is what I have/had experienced. I have dealt with depression, anxiety, and extreme emotional highs and lows, as well as the symptoms listed in this post, but as I have grown and removed many of the more toxic elements and behaviors from my life, I no longer feel the daily swings that fit bpd. I am removing the bpd tags as such. I believe mental illness can be complicated and overlap with various disorders/conditions. Life and its effects on us as children and adults can be complex as well. 

I am glad people can find some comfort or clarity in this post, but my intention when I made it was NOT for people to use it as a clear sign they have borderline personality disorder. I want people who read this to access what they are experiencing and take everything here with a grain of salt, before self-diagnosing and talk to a trusted professional.

Take care.