#james is a pathetic sack of shit

[pocparks]

im not saying james needs to look hot because that would be the worst timeline, i actually think his model looks great and the guy they modelled his face after does too for the role i just think whoever is directing the animation and specifically the facial expressions is the REAL problem.

why do they have him constantly doing a sad puppy face into the camera they dont need to do all of that and then he also has a deep gravelly action man voice too like mannn thats not james like who made these decisions?

[bimbo-baggins17]

The reader is in the medieval stocks and James takes us from behind...

Also coming out as a new anon 🐇

AJSSKDJDKDISKNDNDDK I HAVE A BUNNY ANON NOW????? 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 these James requests have been sending meeee

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

You knew James was into some seriously kinky shit after being together for a few years. He’s slowly opened up more and more about his fantasies and fetishes to you. Each one a little more extreme than the next.

That’s how you find yourself in bondage stocks. You felt so much more vulnerable this way; your ass presented to him with your hands unable to move, not even able to look over your shoulder. You were completely and totally at his will.

“So pretty like this, baby. And all for me.” He murmurs, running a hand down the expanse of your back. You shiver at his touch. “Thank you for being open to this. Such a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“Yes..’m always a good girl for you, Jamie.”

He swats your ass cheek in approval. “That’s my girl.” His touch is removed from your back and you struggle against the stocks to see but obviously fail.

You hear his belt jangle, followed by the familiar sound of his zipper. Another few seconds pass before you feel him tapping his cock against your backside. You bite down on your bottom lip, suppressing any sounds.

He drags his shaft agonizingly slow down and through your slick folds, bumping against your clit. You whimper, your hands clenching tightly. “Please James..” You beg softly.

“Ah ah, gotta be patient.” He tuts, letting his tip prod against your bundle of nerves a few more times just to spite you. It’s not like you could do much to get him to do what you want given your situation.

James decides to be gracious and take it easy on you. Mainly for the sake of his throbbing dick. He lines his tip with your entrance, one hand wrapped around his length, the other resting on your hip to brace himself.

No matter how many times he’s fucked you, he still moans like it’s the first time he’s getting to be inside you. You were just so warm and wet. So perfect for him.

“Fuck..” He hisses once he’s buried fully inside you, feeling your walls squeezing him.

“Mm..I need you to move Jamie..”

“Yeah..yeah I got you baby.” He pulls back almost all the way out before rolling his hips back into you. His pace is already faster than he usually starts with. His pent up frustration on top of having you completely submitted to him flips something in him.

“Christ baby.” He groans, brutally thrusting into your pussy from behind, his heavy sack slapping against your clit. He grips onto your hips, watching the way fat of your ass ripples with each and every thrust.

You mewl, digging your nails into the palms of your hands tighter. If it weren’t for the stockade you were in, you wouldn’t be able to be upright.

“Yeah? That feel good?”

The answer he gets is a choked moan instead of anything verbal as his dick continues to rearrange your insides. He wasn’t gonna last much longer.

James sales a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit with calloused fingers. He can feel your legs tremble and hear your moans. “That’s right baby. C’mon.” He coaxes your orgasm out of you, feeling your walls pulsing around him. “Can tell you’re right there.”

You nod pathetically, whimpering. “Mhm..’m right there Jamie.”

You’re tumbling over the edge pathetically fast, clamping tightly around his thick cock. “That’s a good girl.” He coos, still plunging his dick into your orgasming cunt.

“S-stop…t’s too much.” You whine.

“Nah you can take it. Can take what your Jamie gives you.” He continues his sloppy, harsh thrusts without abandon until he’s planting his load deep in your warm cunt. You feel him twitching.

He stays plugged up inside for a second before slipping out. Both of you making noises over the sudden loss. You feel his cum mixed with yours slowly oozing out of your hole.

He reaches down and collects some of it before coming to your face. “Here. Have a taste. Don’t waste it.”

You obediently clean his fingers of your’s and his mix of fluids, humming happily as you lap it up.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He murmurs, feeling his cock getting hard all over again.

Once he’s satisfied with your clean up he disappears behind you.

“What’re you-“

Your question is cut off by your own moan as he’s thrusting back into you suddenly.

“‘M not done with you yet baby. Gonna fill you up as much as I want.”

[teafairywithabook]

How Redacted Characters Wrap Gifts Pt 2

Here's how I envision various Redacted bois would wrap their gifts...

Demons

Avior: So neat. Matching ribbon and gift tag. If he can't find a matching gift tag, there won't be one. He'll remember who it's for. Doesn't have huge amounts of patience for wrapping, so although he prefers to hand wrap, if it's a difficult shape, has no qualms at all about finger snapping the wrapping!

Regulus: He knows his precious human enjoys unwrapping gifts at this time of year. Unfortunately they're unavailable to do so at the moment. When they're in a better position, however, there's a lot - and I do mean a lot - of gifts waiting for them, hidden away. All perfectly wrapped as they deserve, in sparkly paper. Ready to make them smile as much as they make him smile. Eventually...

Camelopardalis: Uses seed paper. It's colourful and has wildflower seeds in so you can plant it. I nearly gave this one to Huxley, but this kind of felt like Cam would like it too.

Vega: Given that gifts aren't a human concept, he could be persuaded to give someone a token gift perhaps? If they needed something, like a human to feed on maybe. Wrapping might be a step too far.

EMPOWERED HUMANS

Elliott: Uses fabric! Brightly colored scarves, fabric squares, anything he thinks the reciever would enjoy.

Blake: Gets that cheap shit that tears the second you try and use it. Tapes over the holes badly. Pathetic.

Morgan: Tired of this shit already. Uses gift bags. So much easier!

James: Gives gift cards inside greetings cards, written really nicely in fountain pen.

UNEMPOWERED HUMANS

Geordi: Passable. Not quite as bad as Asher, but this is not really a skill Geordi has. Likes to use bio-degradable paper.

Guy: WRAPPING! Oh yes! Will absolutely try to find funny or offensive paper. Be warned. Probably as bad as the contents. Saw a YouTube Short about wrapping a gift in several layers of duct tape, zip ties, paper, staples, rubber bands and thought it was HYSTERICAL! Honey did not.

Aaron: Very civilised. Sits down with everything he needs, some music on and a drink, and spends a whole evening wrapping up in nice normal paper.

Marcus: Tells people he's "donating to a good cause this year" instead of giving gifts and cards. He's a lying sack of shit.

Ollie: Very careful, and you can generally see where he's peeled back the tape to re-stick it because he dropped the tape on the paper in the wrong place.

SPECIAL MENTIONS

Hush: Wasn't sure what was going on, but after Doc showed him and explained the whole thing, turned out to be really good at wrapping. Doc made him wrap all of theirs too.

Adam: He would roll the paper around the gift and roll the tape around it several times, but he can't, because he's FUCKING DEAD IN EVERY UNIVERSE.

Marie: You don't wrap Tupperware. She gives food. She's perfect like that.

Did I miss anyone? Want me to do someone? Let me know!

Happy holidays!

[azrielgreen]

Touched 🦇CH8🦇 Preview

Steve’s shoulder hurts, his arm is tingling and painful but it’s much better, so much better in fact he literally couldn’t care less about it.

All he cares about is…

‘Eddie,’ he groans pathetically, trying to get into Eddie’s lap, needs kisses, needs love, needs that aching cavern inside to be filled until he thinks it’ll split him in half, he needs everything. ‘Alpha.’

‘Oh my god, are you fucking serious?’ Nancy hisses, trying to pull Steve away. ‘This is not the time!’

‘Is it the Thing?’ Jonathan asks in a low whisper.

Eddie grunts with the effort of dodging Steve’s kisses, in the end has to flip Steve around and imprison him in a wall of muscle, wrap him in tight arms with Steve’s back against Eddie’s chest.

‘Stop it, you have to be quiet.’

Steve can’t, he’s writhing with it. Doesn’t know if it’s the adrenaline, or the pain or what, but he’s… he feels like he is mid heat and Jesus Christ, he doesn’t care who sees it, but he’s gonna have to beg Eddie to fuck him right here, on the dead soil of this dead world.

‘Can’t,’ he whines, scrabbling for freedom. ‘Eddie, can’t control it. Use the voice, please.’

Eddie doesn’t hear him though and Steve’s facing away, so he dips into the bond, finds it scalding hot to the touch and fever-bright.

Use the voice to calm me down, please.

I can’t do that.

If you don’t I’m gonna lose it and get us killed. Use it carefully, I know you can. I love you. Please.

When he opens his eyes, he’s wet between the legs, he’s throbbing and desperate, his blood thick with itch and his body screaming to be filled, fucked, bred.

Eddie’s cheek is against Steve’s, holding him from behind when he drops his voice to that rope burn baritone, and says, ‘Be calm and quiet for me, Omega. Slow, deep breaths. Calm. Relaxed. You’re OK. Just for a few minutes then it’ll pass.’

Steve feels like someone cut his strings.

His whole body sags, his brain drops into bliss and he exhales a breathy sigh, feels so much better.

Everything’s fine.

He just has to breathe.

‘That’s it,’ Eddie says, kissing him, holding him tight and his voice cracks beneath the weight of a guilt that Steve doesn’t understand because everything is fine, it’s OK, it’s perfect. ‘That’s it, so good for me.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Jonathan utters, but it’s not about Steve. Everyone is looking up at the shadow passing overhead.

Everyone except Steve, who just needs to breathe.

‘What the fuck are they?’ Jason whispers.

‘Never seen those before,’ Hopper states grimly. 

‘They’re like bats.’

‘Owens said everything has a hive mind, so let’s make sure to stay out of sight.’

Eddie muses, ‘Like the Crebain?’

‘What the hell is a Crebain?’

‘He still can’t hear you,’ Chrissy reminds Nancy.

‘I can hear you through Steve,’ Eddie points out, sounds deeply unhappy about it though. ‘When he’s like this… he’s mindless. There’s no interference. I can hear through him.’

‘My god,’ Robin mutters.

Hopper turns to watch the last of them fly on. ‘They’re passing by.’

Steve is so relaxed.

So calm.

He could nap.

‘You’re doing so great, Little Fox,’ Eddie tells him, kissing his neck. ‘Just a few more seconds and then you’ll be back to normal.’

‘Are you controlling him?’ Jason demands.

‘Stay the fuck out of it, Carver.’

‘That’s gross, that’s like mind control.’

‘You don’t know shit, so shut your mouth!’

‘Guess you really are a monster.’

‘Hey,’ Hopper warns sharply. ‘Enough. Carver, don’t make me regret bringing you. Munson, sack up, I mean it. No bullshit in here, it’s too dangerous.’

Steve feels like he’s waking up, even with his eyes open. He can hear other sounds, he’s noticing things. It comes in a massive rush of pure overwhelm.

And the death right with it.

The smile in the dark.

The dead eyes.

I see you. I taste you. I know you, Steven James Harrington. I will find you.

[somethin-stupid-67]

I think james mcgill and howard hamlin are in love and they have so much sex and jimmy pisses himself and howie finds ut sexy

pls those two are definitely in love! it's all types of messy, sure, but the feelings are very much there and they're very, very obviously mutual. the sexual tension's so thick you could cut through it and everyone, absolutely everyone, picks up on it.

for middle-aged men those two have so much sex. howard's fucked jimmy in every square inch of his office at this point and jimmy's determined to get at least a quickie every time he catches howard alone for more than five minutes. janitor's closets, the forque bathroom, howard's guest house, the office in the nail salon, if these two are there then they're boning! jimmy's the type to very quickly lose control and has embarrassed himself in front of howard multiple times as a result. it's never bothered howard, in fact it usually has the opposite effect and almost sends him over the edge right after jimmy. it serves as a reminder that no matter how many times jimmy pisses him off or tries to sabotage his career/professional image, howard still maintains a level of power over jimmy. that and howard loves how authentic the both of them are in those moments. no con jobs, aliases, fake niceties for the sake of professionalism, or bold/obnoxious suits, just flustered explanations and gentle reassurances, lingering touches, affectionate glances, and a million and one things better left unsaid.

jimmy mcgill loves that preppy son of a bitch, and you better believe that howard hamlin loves that pathetic sack of shit right back.

[vampsquerade]

Could I please ask for Smoke comforting the reader? Thank you!

of course you can, anon! thank you so much for your request! can we talk about how fucking hot smoke looks in the game? like…whole face revealed in the game’s engine…that card oh my god…WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE RAINBOW FOR NIGHTHAVEN YOU PIECE OF SHI- dies

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Smoke x GN!Reader: A Better Option

Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, comfort/hurt, really bad breakups, physical altercations, confessions of love

Sitting outside on the porch of your now ex-partner’s home, you wait patiently in tears for the person you were calling to pick up. After one more ring, there was a click, “Y/N, you never call at this hour. What’s wrong mate?” It was James. “Are…Are you busy? I need somebody to come pick me up, and you were the first person that came to mind…” you say. “You’re in luck, I’m driving right now. Tell me where you are and I’ll go get you.” James asked. “I’m at my ex’s house…I’m sorry for bothering you while you were driving…” you apologize. “Oi, don’t you go apologizing for anything. You can never bother me.” James reassured, voice now firm. “O-Okay…I’ll see you soon…” you say softly. “Grand.” James said before you hung up on him.

You continue to wait patiently for him, continuing to cry into your knees on the front porch. After a bit of alone time outside, your ex’s front door opens the same time a car pulls up in front of their house, “Y/N…please listen to me. It was just an accident! We were drunk, a-and it didn’t mean anything!” your ex yells behind you. You quickly stand and walk off their porch, storming towards James who had now stepped out of his car. “What the bloody hell did you do to them, hm? The fuck’s the reason why they’re standing outside in the cold at this fucking hour of the night?” James asked angrily. “And who are you? Did…did this dumb fucking idiot really get mad at me for cheating? Ha! For all I know, Y/N’s probably been cheating on me this whole time.” your ex stated matter of factly.

A painful twist in your heart causes more tears to well in your eyes, and that’s when things get physical. James quickly throws a punch at your ex, causing them to stagger backwards. “The name’s James Fucking Porter, and you’ll do damn well to remember it. Arms up, prick. I ain’t leaving ‘til I punch your teeth in, or ‘til you apologize to Y/N for even thinking they would cheat on some sack of shit like you.” he says. Your ex shakes their head and steady themself before throwing a slightly disoriented punch back. James quickly ducks before standing back up, delivering a right hook to his jaw hard and knocking him out. The person your ex cheated on you with comes outside after hearing the commotion and storms over to James, only for him to raise his fist at them.

“Clear off or get snookered,” he warned, causing them to completely freeze up and stare at James like a deer in headlights. “Take that bloody prick inside. And start packing all of Y/N’s things soon, we’ll be back tomorrow for it all. If there’s anything missing, you’re paying for it. In full.” The other person froze in place and nodded, reaching down and dragging your ex back inside the house. You just stare at the situation that unfolded in front of you, wondering why James had gotten so aggressively protective like that.

James then turns around and motions for you to get into the passenger’s seat of his car and you do so, buckling yourself in quietly. He gets into the driver’s seat and slams the car door shut before buckling himself in and starting the car again. The atmosphere is tense, and you do your best not to make a single sound as James begins to drive away. You didn’t want to bother him further, already hating yourself for looking absolutely pathetic in front of him. But he didn’t say anything at all. James was deathly silent for once, and you knew it was because of your current situation. Seeing you in a state like this made him feel terrible, it practically killed him.

After a bit of driving, James pulled into a nearly forgotten pathway before stopping his car and getting out. You don’t hesitate but to follow suit and get out, watching James for his next move. He then went to the trunk of his car and grabbed a blanket, walking to you and draping said blanket over your shoulders. “Stick close to me, I’ll get you sorted.” he commands gently, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You nod silently, and the two of you begin walking down another path that went to the left. The fresh autumn air breezes through you, making you shiver slightly and pull the blanket closer to yourself. James feels you moving a bit, and he wraps his arm around you a bit tighter to try and keep you warm.

Soon enough, the two of you reach a lone bench underneath a giant, beautiful tree and sit down together on it. Once you’ve been sat, your body begins trembling as your emotions begin to consume you like the waves of a dark and violent ocean again. You’re crying again, except this time, much more audibly and way harder than before. James turns you to face him and he holds you tightly, gently rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. He lets you cry for as long as you need to before you feel a bit more relieved, gently pushing away from him so you could explain everything. “I…found them cheating on me when I got home from a late shift at the hospital…they said it was an accident, blaming it on the fact that they were drunk…” you say.

James wipes your tears from your face gently, moving his oxygen mask down for a moment to give you a kiss on the forehead before putting it back in place. “The fact that they left you out there all alone for so long without even waiting outside for someone to get you was proof enough they didn’t care at all.” he said. “I just get tunnel vision sometimes, you know..? I never would have thought they did this and…what if this isn’t the first time, and it’s just been the time I caught them?” you ask. “Don’t overthink about that wanker. There’s other people out there who will treat you like you’re their most prized possession.” James said, looking you directly in the eye. You see something hiding beneath the sharp anger and darkness he was feeling towards your ex right now, but you couldn’t quite decipher it. “What do you mean by that specifically..?” you ask. James’ eyes now soften, revealing a shine in them you’d never seen before.

It was love.

“I would never treat you like that. You don’t deserve to be sad over some sorry excuse of a person who didn’t love you enough. You deserve to be loved and cared for. And…I reckon I wouldn’t mind if I was the one who gave that to you.” James confessed. Your eyes widened, and before you could speak, James moved his oxygen mask once more and leaned forward to kiss you. Body frozen as if the universe itself had paused all functions, you’re shocked he even had feelings like this for you. Once he pulled away, James gave you a hopeful look, “Please let me be the one to do that for you. Let me be the one who treats you right. I’ve never quite felt like this for anybody in my life.” he said. “Wh-What if your daughter doesn’t like this idea..?” you ask. “You know how much she cares about you. She wouldn’t mind it one bit.” he said.

You contemplate it for a moment, before coming to another realization about yourself. This whole time, before your ex cheated on you, you had always felt something for James beneath the surface. He was so much more fun than your ex, life was refreshing with him every time he was around before a mission. “I’ll have to take you up on that…thank you, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize how you felt about me sooner…I would have left that idiot long ago if you just told me…” you say. “No worries. I didn’t understand these feelings I had for you, just knew I had ‘em. But tonight, thinking of these feelings, it’s much different from what I thought it was. I love you.” he said right off the bat. You smile softly, “I love you too…you’re the best.”

[whumphoarder]

Emergency Contact

Summary: It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Or, in which fifteen-year-old college freshman Tony Stark needs a ride to the ER and James Rhodes is too responsible for his own good.

Word count: 4,050

Genre: sickfic, hurt/comfort, angst, whump

A/N: Thank you so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading, ideas, and encouragement!

Link to read on Ao3

It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

To be fair, the skinny five-foot-four prepubescent kid who’d walked into James’ dorm on move-in day didn’t look much like a college student, nor was he lugging in cardboard boxes and duffle bags filled with crap like the rest of the freshmen in the hall. There was no air of excitement and trepidation to him—no telltale buzz of new experiences. Not to mention, James had spent the majority of his summer away at Air Force ROTC camp, cut off from most forms of media and therefore oblivious to the rumors that Howard Stark’s infamous fifteen-year-old child prodigy was set to start his engineering course at MIT the very same semester that he was. It was hardly his fault for not recognizing the kid.

Even so, he probably shouldn’t have addressed Tony as ‘champ’ and asked if he was there to drop off an older sibling. That was on him.

What was not on James, however, was the fit Stark pitched at the resident assistant’s office upon realizing that his father had evidently not set him up with a single room after all.

“So move me then,” the little twerp demanded. “Just put it on the old man’s bill—he’s got the money. I didn’t just live through the last seven years of boarding school dormitories only to have to keep sharing the fucking bathroom in college.” He glanced over his shoulder at James, before adding, offhandedly, “No offense—I’m sure you’re swell.”

James huffed out a short, ironic laugh. He was standing in the back corner of the office with his back leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, quietly taking in the scene unfolding in front of him. “None taken.”

(At this point, he wouldn’t have minded a switch either.)

The mousy redhead at the desk looked frazzled. “Look, I’m very sorry, Mr. Stark,” she tried to explain, “but there’s nothing I can do. All our single dorms are fully booked.”

Even when the kid shoved a wad of cash at her tall enough to make James’ eyebrows rise, the RA held her ground.

“It’s a first come, first serve policy,” she explained, her voice faltering, but words firm. “At least until something opens up. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it has to be.”

So there they were, a nineteen-year-old Air Force cadet from a working class family in Philly who had gotten into ‘fancy school’ on an ROTC scholarship, a 3.87 GPA, and a prayer, and a spoiled rich brat with a pile of daddy issues taller than the Bunker Hill Monument. The two were going to be stuck together for at least the next few weeks and neither of them was particularly thrilled about it.

X

Despite James’ initial concerns, rooming with Stark wasn’t actually that bad.

James had an additional scholarship that was dependent on his academic performance, so he joined several study groups to keep his grades up. Between ROTC, student government, and mock UN, along with his never-ending mountain of engineering coursework, he was rarely home.

Meanwhile, Tony might look like a twelve-year-old, but that certainly didn’t get in the way of his budding popularity on campus. The kid was swimming in invites to different parties and events (though whether that was due to his own sharp wit and natural charisma, or simply his undeniable social status as the son of Howard Stark, James couldn’t tell). Either way, between James’ busy schedule and Tony’s avid social calendar, the two could go days without seeing each other, which suited them both just fine.

With all the partying, James figured his roommate’s grades must be suffering, but a curious glance at the quarterly report letter lying on Tony’s desk last week proved otherwise. The kid had straight A’s in all seven of his classes—two more than James himself was taking.

(Alright, maybe he disliked Tony a little bit.)

X

James knew it wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment he woke up to see sunlight streaming in through the blinds. That just wasn’t supposed to happen at 5:45 a.m. in November.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of his twin-size bunk. The display on his alarm clock was silently blinking the very incorrect time of ‘12:00’. The previous night’s storm must have knocked out the power. He grabbed his watch from atop his desk to check the actual time and immediately breathed out a sigh of relief. 7:22. No morning run today, but he should still be able to make it to his eight a.m. class if he hurried.

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he snagged some clean clothes from his dresser and made a beeline to the adjoining bathroom. He pushed open the door and slapped on the light switch, but the second the room illuminated to reveal the scrawny figure sitting slumped on the floor between the toilet and the wall, James froze.

“Tony?” he asked in confusion. He hadn’t even heard the kid come home last night.

Without opening his eyes, Tony hummed a bit in response. Then all at once, he lurched forward and gagged, coughing up what looked to be mostly bile into the toilet bowl.

James grimaced. It was definitely not the first time he’d seen his roommate severely hungover, but it was the first time he’d seen it happen on a Tuesday . At the rate this kid was partying, he’d be lucky if he had any liver function left by the time he graduated.

With a sigh, James set his stack of clean clothes down on the sink counter. “Look man, I’m sorry, but I really gotta shower. I know you’re not feeling too great, but do you think you can give me, like, five minutes in here?”

Tony blinked up at him, seeming to process the question. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay…”

Doing his best to ignore the acidic smell of vomit, James stepped carefully around Tony into the small room. He flushed the toilet and grabbed the metal trash can from beside the sink while Tony pulled himself shakily to his feet.

“Thanks dude. I promise I’ll be fast.” He passed the can off to Tony and watched him stumble back out of the room before shutting the door.

If the military had taught James nothing else, it was efficiency. He emerged ten minutes later—showered, dressed, and clean shaven—to find Tony sitting listlessly on the edge of his bed. The boy looked more dead than alive, with one arm wrapped around his stomach and sweat soaking through his thin gray t-shirt. Just the sight of him was practically an underage drinking PSA in itself.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” James announced as he grabbed his backpack from the floor.

Tony acknowledged him with a small grunt, but didn’t make any effort to move. His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing through it carefully, warily eyeing the trash can on the floor in front of him. For once, James was glad he had an eight a.m. class to get to; he figured in about five minutes, he wouldn’t want to be here anyway.

In a spur of the moment gesture of kindness, James grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the case under his desk and tossed it onto Tony’s bed. “Feel better, dude,” he said on his way out the door.

X

Tuesday was always a busy day for James. He had back-to-back classes all morning, followed by a student council meeting in the afternoon and a mandatory ROTC training session. It was nearly seven o’clock by the time he made it back to the dorm, and by that time he’d honestly forgotten about that morning’s excitement until he opened the door to their room.

As miserable as Tony had appeared that morning, he looked decidedly worse now. He was lying curled up on the edge of his bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, cheeks flushed and body shivering. The whole room carried the vague scent of vomit, though the trash can by the bed was currently empty.

“So… I take it this isn’t a hangover?” James deduced, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He plopped the paper sack of Taco Bell that was going to make up his dinner onto his desk, causing Tony’s face to scrunch up in displeasure. “Stomach flu?” he guessed.

Tony made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat.

“Think you got a fever?”

Another low noise issued from Tony, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, which James took to mean something along the lines of ‘don’t know, and don’t care.’

James hesitated a moment, unsure what to do. If his mother were here, she’d tisk her tongue and press her hand to the kid’s forehead to gauge his temperature, but somehow he didn’t see that going over too well with Tony.

Instead, James checked his watch and sighed. “I can give you a ride to the student health center if you want,” he offered. “They don’t close until eight.”

“Don’ have to... ‘s just a bug,” Tony mumbled into the pillow, the most consecutive words James had heard from him all day. “I’ll be fine.”

The thing was, if Tony were one of his ROTC buddies, James would have dropped it right there. He’d never been particularly good at caretaking, and besides, he had a test coming up in his thermal-fluids class tomorrow morning that he should really be studying for. But something about the utter vulnerability Tony was displaying at the moment gave James pause. True, the kid might be a stuck-up asshole, but he was also just that— a kid. Only a few years older than James’ own kid-brother.

James looked at Tony appraisingly. “Can you handle a shower?”

“Huh?” Tony breathed.

“A shower,” James repeated. “Remember those? Water, soap, maybe even some shampoo if you’re feeling adventurous,” he said wryly. “That is, if you can do it without passing out.”

Tony fixed him with a rather pathetic glare. “Not gonna pass out.”

“You better not,” James quipped, crossing his arms and watching as Tony pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen more than enough white boys’ pasty asses this summer to last a lifetime. I have no desire to add another.”

(Tony lifted his middle finger weakly in his roommate’s direction.)

X

Over the sound of the shower running in the background, James ate his tacos and started flipping through his class notes in preparation for the test the next morning, but he was finding it unusually hard to focus. He kept listening for any sounds of distress from the bathroom, and after fifteen minutes had elapsed, he got up from his desk and crossed the room.

“Hey, I was serious about the ‘no passing out’ rule, Stark,” he hollered, rapping his knuckles against the door. “If you biff it in there, you’re on your own.”

As if on cue, a loud crashing sound immediately issued from inside the shower.

James’ eyes widened. He jiggled the door handle only to find it locked. “Tony?” he called. “Did you just fall?”

There was no response.

James cursed. He grabbed a paper clip from his desk and quickly jimmied the flimsy lock open—a skill he’d learned from his cousins years ago—before pushing open the door. “Tony?” he called again.

Suddenly, a hand emerged and pulled the edge of the shower curtain back just enough for Tony to stick his head out the side. His face was totally straight, but there was a hint of mirth in his eyes. “Whoops, must’ve dropped the shampoo bottle,” he deadpanned. “Thank god I’m rooming with the US Coast Guard.”

“Air Force,” James corrected irritably.

Tony pulled the curtain back closed. “Whatever.”

James rolled his eyes. “Next time I’m letting you drown, Stark...” he grumbled as he stepped back out of the room.

X

By the time Tony finally emerged from the bathroom an additional twenty minutes later (the latter ten of which he’d spent retching loud enough into the toilet that James had broken out his walkman and headphones), all traces of his earlier humor had dissolved. He moved shakily back to his bed and managed a couple sips of water before curling up on his side, the trash can within easy reach.

James tried to turn his attention back to his textbook, but Tony’s labored breathing as he drifted in and out of consciousness was making it difficult to focus. James kept stealing worried side glances back at the bed, wondering whether there was something else he should be doing.

At around nine-thirty, Tony jerked up suddenly and stumbled back to the bathroom to start dry-retching into the toilet again, and that was when James gave up trying to study for the night. He got up from his desk and pushed open the hastily half-closed door to the bathroom to wet a washcloth at the sink. When the mostly unproductive spasms ceased, he handed the cloth to Tony.

“Have you eaten anything today?” James asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

Tony just grimaced and shook his head.

“Want some crackers or something?” he offered. “I can go raid the cafeteria soup station.” James might not have had as packed of a social calendar as Tony, but it wasn’t like he never partied. He still knew the college hangover tricks.

Tony shook his head again, eyes closed. He seemed to lack the energy for words.

“Gatorade at least then?” James tried again. “All I’ve seen you drink today is one water bottle—you’ve gotta be getting dehydrated by now.”

Another head shake. “I’ll jus’ puke it up again…” Tony muttered. “Prob’ly a kidney too at this rate.”

“Well it’s better than puking up nothing,” James reasoned. Technically, he didn’t know if that was true or not, but he was tired of watching the kid be miserable. He moved back to the room to grab his keys and jacket. “What flavor do you want?” he called.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony croaked back from the bathroom. “They’re all terrible.”

“That’s the most ignorant thing I’ve ever heard you say,” James retorted. “Just for that you’re getting purple.”

And with that, he exited the dorm and shut the door behind him with a bang.

X

It turned out that the vending machine in the lobby outside the dining hall only sold three Gatorade flavors—blue, orange, and red. James bought a bottle of each, then slipped into the deserted cafeteria to snag a handful of individually-wrapped saltine packets from the clam chowder counter before heading back to the dorm. It took some cajoling, but he managed to get two full crackers and half a bottle of the sports drink into Tony before it came right back up.

“Told you,” Tony rasped, spitting neon blue strings of bile into the toilet bowl. “Lost cause.”

“We’ll try red next,” James said, cracking open a fresh bottle. “One of them’s bound to stick.”

But red didn’t stay down any better, and neither did orange. James mooched a can of ginger ale and a quarter of a bottle of Pepto Bismol off a fellow cadet down the hall, but those fared no better. Even the cup of tap water James kept bullying him into taking sips from proved too much.

By midnight, Tony was still sitting slumped against the toilet on the bathroom floor, barely conscious, and James was at a total loss. “I think we have to go to the ER,” he admitted finally.

Without opening his eyes, Tony made a low noise of discontent in the back of his throat. His eyes were sunken in and he was alarmingly pale.

James let out a deep sigh. “Look, I’m sorry man, but we’re running out of options here. If you can’t even keep water down, you’re gonna need an IV.”

“No…” Tony lifted a shaky hand to try to take the cup of water James was holding. “I’ll-I’ll try again… just—” His words were cut off by a weak gag.

James cursed under his breath and quickly steered Tony’s head back over the bowl. It turned out not to matter though because for the next several minutes of miserable retching, nothing came up. When it was finally over, Tony slumped back against the wall. His eyes were red and puffy, and James figured it was only dehydration that was keeping the tears from falling.

“Alright, that’s it,” James declared. He wrapped an arm around Tony to lever him upright, feeling the feverish heat coming off the kid in waves. “I’m not letting you die on our bathroom floor—we won’t get the deposit back.”

Tony breathed out the ghost of a laugh. “Jus’ tell Howard to write you a check at the funeral...” he murmured. “‘bout all he’s good for,” he added under his breath.

James’ brow furrowed but he chose not to comment. He hoisted Tony to his feet and bore most of the kid’s weight as he led him back to the bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the mattress. “I’m gonna get you a clean shirt, okay?”

Tony nodded, gazing blankly forward with half-lidded eyes. James ended up having to help the kid pull his sweat-soaked t-shirt off and guide his uncooperative arms into a fresh one, followed by his coat. When they got to the shoes, James didn’t even bother having Tony try himself. He just stuffed the kid’s feet into a pair of sneakers for him.

“I taught my little sister how to do this last summer,” James explained as he tied Tony’s laces, if only for something to fill the awkward silence. “She’s in first grade.”

Tony hummed lightly. “I never went.”

James frowned, pulling the knot tight. “What do you mean?”

“Firs’ grade,” Tony clarified. “Or second. They started me in third.”

James smirked, imagining tiny five-year-old Tony filling out his multiplication tables in a classroom full of kids a full head taller than him. But his face quickly fell again as he suddenly realized a potential flaw in their plan. Tony may be in college, but he was still technically a minor. James wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to bring him off campus. “Shit, we’re gonna need to call your parents...” he said.

Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

James raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m about to haul their fifteen-year-old son’s ass off to the hospital? Have you been following this conversation at all?”

“Oh. Jus’ leave a note for the RA.” Tony shrugged, listless. “They won’t care.”

James gave him a strange look. “Of course they’ll care—they’re your parents.”

Tony’s eyes were glassy with fever. “They won’t,” he croaked. “Been in boarding school since I was seven.” A shiver ran through his body and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Got pneumonia one winter and was in the hospital eight days. Dad jus’ paid the school to handle everything—didn’ even visit.” A tear finally slipped down the side of his cheek. “I was twelve.”

James knew it was just the fever making Tony so forthcoming at the moment, but it didn’t make his words any easier to take. As much as James always complained about his own mother’s doting whenever he wasn’t feeling well, he couldn’t imagine being sick enough to be in the hospital and not having anyone there for him. He didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, Tony broke the awkward silence. “Sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his palm against them. “‘M fine.”

With a quiet sigh, James put his arm around Tony to help him back to standing. “You know what? We’ll just call them when we get there,” he said before leading Tony out to the car.

X

The drive to the hospital was uneventful. Tony sat curled up in the passenger seat of James’ old beater of a Chevy Monza with an empty plastic bag in his lap, quiet except for the occasional whimper he’d let out when they’d hit a bump in the road. When they arrived, James got Tony checked in and situated in the waiting room with some forms to fill out before stepping out to the foyer to use the payphone.

James fished the scrap of paper containing the number that Tony had finally agreed to give him out of his pocket. He dialed it three times. Each time, the call was picked up by the answering machine. On the third round, he left the Starks a brief message stating which hospital Tony was at and how they could contact their son, then hung up quickly before he could add anything else he might come to regret.

He reentered the waiting area to find Tony sitting hunched forward in his chair, breathing shallowly and clutching the small kidney-shaped basin that the triage nurse had given him like his life depended on it. “What’d they say?” he murmured. James wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard just a hint of hopefulness in the kid’s voice.

Without meeting Tony’s gaze, he slid into the seat beside him. “They didn’t answer,” he said guiltily.

Tony’s tone returned to flat: “Shocking.”

“They’re probably just asleep,” James reasoned, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “I left a message, but we can try again later.”

Tony hummed absently. Then all at once, he brought the small plastic container he was holding up to his mouth and threw up whatever little liquid remained in him. His hands were trembling so hard that James had to help him steady the basin.

When the heaving stopped, one of the nurses from the front desk exchanged the used basin for a clean one. Tony grunted in thanks, then looked up wearily and locked eyes with James. “You really don’ have to stay.”

James gave a tiny scoff. “What? You think I’d just leave you here to faceplant on the linoleum?”

Tony shrugged a bit. “‘S not like we’re friends, Jim.”

James pondered this for a few seconds before returning the shrug. “I guess you’re right.” He settled back in his chair and picked up a copy of Good Housekeeping from the stack on the waiting room table, flipping it idly open on his lap. “Too bad I’m invested now.”

X

It was around three a.m. by the time Tony’s name was called. He was taken back and briefly examined before getting hooked up to an IV line for fluids and antiemetics. The doctor ordered some bloodwork to be sure, but said that all signs pointed to a virus. As soon as they could get the vomiting under control and Tony’s vitals stabilized, he should be good to go.

While Tony dozed in and out of consciousness on the ER bed, fluids dripping steadily into his arm, James just sat there, silently mulling the events of the last sixteen hours or so over in his mind. It was weird seeing Tony like this—weak, and small, and just so undeniably young.

James waited until the clock struck five before slipping quietly over to the phone located near the nurse’s station. This time, he dialed a different number—one he knew by heart.

A familiar voice answered on the third ring: “Hello?”

Instant warmth flooded James’ chest at the sound. “Hey Ma,” he said softly.

“James?” His mother’s tone changed from puzzled to concerned in two seconds flat. “It’s so early, baby. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Ma,” he assured, the corners of his lips turning up into the smallest of smiles. “Just wanted to catch you before you left for work.”

“Well, you got me,” she laughed lightly. Over the line, James could hear her bustling around the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug. “What do you need, baby?”

James hesitated a second, his gaze shifting back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “It’s nothing, just… I wanted to ask if I could invite someone home for Thanksgiving next week.” He shifted his gaze back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “I get the feeling he could really use it...”

Link to all my fics

[thecreepiestcarrie]

#JusticeforJohnnyDepp: Johnny’s witness statements at a glance (Kevin Murphy & Kate James)

Things I Cover in this Post:

AH’s consumption of alcohol and prescription pills

AH consistently lying/submitting false documents in order to get what she wants

the dogs in Australia

AH lying to Homeland Security

AH’s abuse of Johnny (both verbal and physical)

the shit in the bed

AH bullying/threatening/intimidating members of Johnny’s staff

The two witness statements I’m including highlights from come from: Kate James- personal assistant to AH for a little under 3 years & Kevin Murphy- Johnny’s estate manager for 8 years, ending in 2016

Before we get into that, I would really love it if you could check out and sign this petition that is demanding an official review into the misconduct of the judge for this case, Andrew Nicol.

It’s a lot of talk about the illegal smuggling of the dogs into Australia, which could definitely come off as tedious af, but I feel this is an excellent demonstrator of the character of Scum and how she tries to manipulate/control all those around her. That is mostly what this instalment is going to be about, employees speaking to the character of Scum and her non-existent relationship with the truth.

Beginning with a woman who worked as assistant to Scum, so Scum was paying her, you would think her loyalty would be to her employer, the person she was working for and spending lots of time with. Well, nope, coz Scum is exactly that - SCUM.

More of Scum bullying/belittling Johnny. But I mainly included this part so we could take a look at Kate’s account of Scum drinking ‘vast quantities’ of wine each night. Johnny recounted in his witness statements of his ‘difficult’ relationship with drink and drugs, including visits to rehab facilities in order to get sober. He talks specifically of March 2015, in Australia (when she mutilated his finger), saying:  Under the stress of the situation, I poured myself a glass of vodka and drank it. It was with this glass that I broke my sobriety. Kate was fired by Scum (actually blindsided is how she put it) in Feb of 2015, so the testimony of her buying non-alcoholic beer for Johnny holds up to me.

Before I started reading properly into this case, I was nervous to properly research into it because I was thinking that I would read something about Johnny that I didn’t like and I was terrified that I’d never come back from that. 12 years of my life- loving, idolising, being inspired by this man- I didn’t want that to end in a blazing burn of ‘wow, what a shithead, I can’t believe that’s what I dedicated time/money/energy to’. But halleloo, he is everything I’ve always hoped he was and potentially more. So I included this section not just as a ‘wow, Johnny is the greatest’, but also, Scum’s assistant failing to see any signs of injury, which is just another voice to add to the booming chorus at this point.

Here we have Scum wilfully and knowingly breaking laws for her own benefit.

Here is the photo that was submitted as part of Kate’s evidence. It isn’t super clear but I’ve highlighted the date, as well as some of the flowery language Scum employs to portray herself as so much better than she is and just going over the top with that.

This is a check Kate submitted in her evidence. To me, the signature doesn’t seem to match the one on the document from Scum. But what is important about this check is the name: Savannah McMillian, the fact that it’s from the Bank of America and the date, of September 2014, which is the same month of Scum’s false document (if you zoom in).

There is no chance in Hell that Savannah was just a friend of Scum’s visiting America for a magical trip. No ma’am, no Pam. I also wanted to include a screenshot provided by Kevin Murphy of an email from Savannah, in which she specifically introduces herself as Scum’s assistant. So here is another lie to add to her list (is there even any room on the tally board anymore?)

‘She felt that she was above the law’

Hmm, what does that remind me of? Oh right, the symptoms/signs of antisocial personality disorders aka SOCIOPATHIC BEHAVIOUR! Referring back to Mayo Clinic, they describe: a disregard for right/wrong, arrogance/sense of superiority, unnecessary risk-taking, failure to consider negative consequences/learn from them, consistent irresponsibility and so on and so on.

She’s lied and perjured herself in the past - why wouldn’t she continue to lie to get what she wants? aka- this whole hoax against Johnny.

Grease? Calm down sweetie, you’re not in the mob. Just say bribe.

GREASE ME UP, WOMAN!

Anyway, let’s move along to Kevin Murphy, a man who worked with Johnny for 8 years and had to deal with a lot of Scum’s shit.

Here we have Johnny telling a member of his staff about the physical abuse he was being subjected to - why didn’t Scum do the same and tell members of her team? Oh right, because it never happened to her.

Kevin was very involved with all of the dog smuggling bullshit and it became a personal matter for him. All of this could’ve been avoided... If not for Scum’s selfishness.

She threatened him and his job and then tried to place all of the legal blame of the smuggling onto him.

Again, I wanted to touch on Scum’s use of alcohol and even drugs. I wanted to be fair to Scum in this, maybe she was using Provigil under a prescription, just like Johnny and his Roxicodone. So I did some digging and I found that yes, Provigil does require a prescription. 

But, from what I could gather from my reading, you can get some over the counter substitutes that have a lower dosage.

But no.2, I found a website where you can purchase Provigil.

I took the liberty of adding it to a cart and selecting checkout. I took all of the steps up to the point where I’d have to pay and guess what? Not once was I asked to provide any details of a GP or of a prescription.

Again, to be fair to Scum, I checked to see if you could also get Roxicodone on this website and guess what?

No, no you can’t.

I don’t intend for this to be taken as conclusive evidence in any way, but it was something that I found interesting.

I really wish they had gotten it DNA tested.

Scum told three different versions of this shit in the bed story-

shit? What shit? There wasn’t any shit in the bed

Yeah, lol, there was shit in the bed, just a harmless prank, got ‘im!

It was the dogs the whole time

And then she projects onto Kevin the fact that she lied, because that’s what she loves to do. She takes her own behaviour and applies it to other people to get them in trouble. This indicates to me that she knows her actions are wrong, but I guess she just thinks she can always find a way to get out of it.

Is she a child? Is she an actual infant? Is she a fucking child?

He had to go and tell 8 other members of their/Johnny’s team to make sure she wouldn’t misbehave and then she went and did it anyway! Is she a child?! It’s like she’s a fucking kid who the Dad has to tell the babysitter that ‘no, she isn’t usually allowed candy, please don’t give her any’ and then the babysitter catches her with a stash of candy anyway! It’s pathetic!

Johnny didn’t want the dogs to come at all and yet, he’s the one who bore most of the brunt over here in the media. And still does, if you refer to this incident, it’s not her dogs, it’s Johnny Depp and his dogs that he snuck in to the country that pissed off the government.

She had this man believing he was going to lose his job because he was trying to correct a legal wrong that she had knowingly committed.

And here she is making a joke about it, on her own fucking Instagram. She had someone take that photo, typed out the caption and decided: ‘yep, this is something I can stand behind, this is fine, this is great content’ and posted it to the world.

Here we go again with another example of that sociopathic behaviour, with her showing a complete lack of remorse and a lack of empathy over the damage this did to the other people involved.

I hope this has helped to provide a greater insight into the type of person Scum is, how manipulative, ruthless and uncaring she is to any/all of the people around her when she’s in pursuit of a goal. I also hope this has helped to shed more light on Scum and her habits with alcohol and pills, which she doesn’t want you to know about, of course. It’s kinda hard for her to consistently call Johnny an addict when she clearly cracks into the goon sack a fair amount herself.

[igor-shestyorkin]

James Dolan is the most pathetic sack of shit

[nightcoremoon]

Callout post: me

lying, manipulative, hold grudges, constantly paranoid, would absolutely 100% check out a teenager if nobody was looking because "it's a harmless crime", liar, cycle through idealization and devaluation, 'sick of fat people trying to be the next civil rights issue and making it that much harder to get civil rights for people who are ACTUALLY oppressed like gee idk poc and muslims and the mentally ill and queer people', frequently fantasizes about committing violent acts against people I rationalize they deserve it including family members, untruthful, attention whore, pedantic AND pretentious, tells lies, doesn't believe in one sister's claim of sexual assault (went to smoke weed with the alleged perpetrator), UNAPOLOGETICALLY AGAINST ASEXUAL EXCLUSIONISM (LITERALLY FUCK YOU DUMBASS FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS WHO SHRIEK THAT QUEER IS A SLUR, SHUT YOUR GODDAM FUCKING WHORE MOUTHS YOU DUMBASSES AND GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE OR READ A BOOK), would absolutely punch a child over an insignificant internet argument, secretly sought out sexual pleasure from two friendly seemingly platonic encounters with two girls I just met within twenty four hours, overreacts to the slightest provocations and has bitches at or vagueposted at several people who did not deserve it, has used mental illness and physical handicap to evade trouble from being late for work because video games and laziness and excessive sleep, has spent maybe a thousand dollars on fast food in 2018 alone, evades bills for medical care from an actually great clinic, lying sack of garbage, gave up on calling out family's bigotry and is now an accessory to prejudice, despises terfs predominantly for their refusal to fuck me because of being trans and yet meanwhile would not engage in sexual relationship with another trans woman or cis man unless reeeeeeeeally drunk, can and will blame being sexually assaulted as a child which probably didn't even happen because I don't think I remember it, unabashed furry, probably as addicted to video games and masturbation AND LIES as I almost was to alcohol, pretended to have almost been an alcoholic just to "win" facebook arguments about addiction, doesn't give a fuck my dad almost died from heroin JUST because he's a *little* homophobic and racist and classist and xenophobic because of a christian upbringing, would literally fucking murder him if he EVER PUTS HIS HANDS ON ME AGAIN, only slightly depressed because of laziness and a lack of drive and ungrateful to my family because hey they didn't kick me out for being trans so HEY THATS SUPPORTIVE ENOUGH FOR SOME OTHER PEOPLE SO WHY CANT I BE HAPPY WITH THAT, legitimately salty about ~the friendzone~ and just makes fun of incels because everybody else does, takes the moral high ground for not being a misogynist even though I don't deserve a pat on the back a lap dance and a blowjob for not hating women, overly sensitive about stupid things, thinking about faking having a trigger warning for more discourse credit, HUUUGE ASSHOLE to men I deem unattractive for no other reason than every single ugly fat guy I've ever met has been an asshole, rationalizes it after the fact because they eventually say something shitty because all men are terrible, probably a little bit of a cisnormative misandrist because trans men tend to be much better people, finds trans men attractive (specifically and significantly more so than cis men) so must clearly be fetishizing them, relatively okay with people referring to me as deadnamed and the wrong pronouns so probably just lying about being trans to everyone including myself, not 100% okay with the hijab for 'no reason other than all organized religion is evil and opposed to its mandate and the shame it forces on many women in many situations the exact same way I'm opposed to no sex before marriage and wives being subservient to their husbands and treating women as property in the torah and quran alike because ITS ALL BRAINWASHING' so is clearly not unlearning islamophobia and doesn't want to let that go, hypocrite because I believe in the basics of judeochristianity

and loathe atheism and atheists entirely because their smugness and smarm literally sets my blood pressure through the roof of what is safe and normal and yet claim to hate all organized religion, mansplains yet gets so pissed off when other people mansplain to me, judgmental of other cultures because they don't have the exact same values that I have, james gunn apologist, talks and talks and talks about anarchosocialism all damn day but would beat the shit out of a coworker for leaving me to do things because they're lazy because "any job worth doing is worth doing well" and other capitalismisms, literally couldn't give less of a fuck that his mother is dying because people die but it's no reason to make my life slightly harder and making me work hard when I work because BOO HOO MY LEGS HURT FROM THE LITERALLY MOST MILD CASE OF MUSCULAR DYSTROPHY I COULD'VE BEEN BORN WITH, hasn't actually performed real suicide attempt ever but still claims to have done so to attain sympathy that may result in physical affection, countless other shitty terrible things that yeah I recognize are bad but CANT SEEM TO CARE BECAUSE I HAVE DEPRESSION... WHICH IS THE WEAKEST FUCKING EXCUSE IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE GODDAMN WORLD

I am not a good person, okay?

I just pretend to be sometimes.

I'm sick of doing it, I'm sick of trying to do well and earn people's approval by doing and saying the right things only to just be ignored which is a step up from receiving many anons that hey, never actually told me to kill myself, but did take my words out of context to paint me as a racist. I am not the kind of racist who would vote for trump and march with the kkk. that is one of very few good things I can say about myself. but I'm an arrogant, violent, and angry opinionated perverted manipulative judgmental lying asshole. I'm not a good person. I have let myself fall so much and I deserve to be alone. my only connections to people were built on personal gain and I swear to myself that I do love them but those feelings fall away in direct correlation to how much they interact with me. I could love you to the point of obsession and stalking and one month later be completely and totally disinterested. I'm a bigot who pretends to not be bigoted and just parrots what other people say not because I believe it but because it's the right thing to say, and I only say what the right thing is to say because whenever I say a good thing something good will happen to me and if I say a bad thing something bad happens to me. it's all just self preservation, nothing else at all. but now I'm at the end of a road of just trying to do good and I'm alone. out of the only two friends that I can really say that I have left, one is far away and trapped in a guilt spiral that I caused by being too clingy, and the other has been behaving in a way my mind has decoded as defensive around me which makes sense as I have been very... the best way to describe it would be the way a dudebro incel interacts with any person who possesses a vagina/breasts but sneakier. in both relationships I've pushed my own wants and desires in extremis... I can't for the life of me recall the last time I have ever offered something in return other than my own company or paying for a meal at a restaurant or I guess transportation. and instead of sex I just want them to express even the slightest bit of intimate platonic physical affection towards me but that's still a lot to offer someone who has clearly expressed the existence of a sexual and maybe something near the realms of romantic in one of the cases physical attraction because for this aspec it's practically the same fucking thing.

and I've manipulated them to attain this goal. at this point my shit brain has considered just fucking going to town on my wrists with a razor blade to draw sympathy so that I'll get a hug or something beyond just a simply hello/goodbye, and finding a way to induce tears to concoct a sob story to reach the same end result, and one time very briefly via threat and intimidation so you can clearly see that I've gone far too into irredeemable territory. I've been playing and replaying cry of fear because it's just too similar to my own issues and the first ending where he just kills everyone he loves and then himself... I see me in that ending. and it scares me so much more than the sprinting screaming twitching one hit kill chainsaw guy ever will. I don't want that to be me, I want to change something, but I just can't get the help that I need. I had hoped to go for a domino effect, where if I could be cuddled for like five minutes or something, I'd have the energy to be more hygienic, which would make me feel capable enough to take on two jobs, which would get me the cash flow I need to pay my bills and take care of my hormones, which would put me in the headspace necessary to effectively use psychological help, which would let me get over my illnesses and actually become a more successful person instead of the pathetic husk I am here in non-fantasy land.

but that won't happen.

I'm just sitting here in the dark angsting about how nobody will touch me in a way that would produce oxytocin, and it's making me so sick, so physically sick, that it's affecting my brain too. I'm in pain, nauseous, vengeful, spiteful, paranoid, judgmental, and lonely. I'm stuck and I can't even kill myself because my mind wants me to stay alive and suffer through all of this because "oh it gets better" people have been saying that for well over half of my life. I was six or seven years old when I asked my mother to kill me, and that same level of desperation and bitterness has only gotten worse as time goes by. when does it get better? I'll tell you when it gets better, after I'm in prison or comatose or forty five years old with a cane and bad eyes and high blood pressure and lung cancer from all the secondhand smoke I've breathed in my life. when my life is over, that's when it gets better. I DONT WANT THAT. I WANT A NORMAL FUCKING LIFE RIGHT NOW. I WANT NORMAL FRIENDSHIPS AND A NORMAL HOME AND A NORMAL EDUCATION AND A NORMAL CAREER AND A NORMAL FAMILY. or at least I want someone to hold me and make me feel like I'm not so horrible and broken that I can't be touched.

but that's too much to ask for.

[dylodandria-blog]

HGP Ch. 4.1

SO I decided to break this chapter up as it was beginning to drag on.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4.1

Later that evening the truck finally slows to a stop…

*For the first time in a long time I know where I am, I can’t run though, not yet… I’m too weak, I can wait. It doesn’t matter what they do, I can wait…* you think to yourself.

Exhausted you trudge up the incline from the logging road up to one the little cabins, just one of a few here. You recognize them from when you last went hiking, the Forrest Rangers had these set up for hikers or hunters that would get lost, or need to take shelter from a storm here in the mountains.

*FLASHBACK*

*So many people died every year here in the Cascades, even before the world went to shit. I remember when these were built when I was a child. I had asked some of the men working on them why they were building so far out here, that’s when they told me they were buildings these all over the mountain range to help people in need. People cared back then what happened to other’s. …. They didn’t stand by and leave you to rot in the hands of a mad man. *

*End Flashback*

I watch as the sandy haired ranger kneels in front of the old wood stove, trying to make a fire. Looking around there are only two windows but they are too small to wiggle out of, *not that I could in my condition. anyway... * I mentally chastise myself.

There is a small table built into the wall, 2 single bunk beds and a few now empty shelves, that used to have a few canned goods some small things like that for someone who needed to take refuge it was provided by the forest service rangers.

*Sitting in the corner is as far away from them as I can get. At least they haven’t collard me like a dog like that bastard did! Still not far enough away in my opinion. *

I look down at my hands reminding myself why I can’t run from them, *Bones in my hands and wrists are visible, the rest of me must be just as bad. If I run I’ll die out there. These mountains are not forgiving even in the best of weather. * I rub my wrists again, the burn from the rope has made them throb.

The one in charge “Bear” they call him or LT, he’s a marine officer, you found out while “Hell” the woman in the truck with you was in contact with him on the 2-way radio talking about you of course, or some block in the road from debris or cars.

Bear comes in and drops his ruck on the table.

Bear: “SGT Lionel; I organized everyone for tonight’s shifts, we have 4 on watch for the 1st shift, Ortega is overseeing them. You take the 2nd with Bane, Juke and Strike, and I’ll take the 3rd, with 4 others. We’re going to buckle down here for the night. Clear?”

SGT Lionel: “Yes Sir.”

*Sergeant Lionel is his name then… I look around again, I’m waiting for that SOB to walk in at any moment now. I won’t ask where he is in case he is near. I won’t give that bastard the satisfaction to even remotely think I care about him by asking about him to these people. Sick and twisted as he is, it’s probably what he is waiting for. It’s probably a good thing I haven’t spoken in… how long has it been...? I’m not sure I can talk anymore anyways, it’s been so long now. *

*They’ve been chatting ever since they picked these cabins to hunker down in. At least I know where I am, that’s a first in a long time. It’s a relief in a way to see something, anything really that I am familiar with! Hell, even the view from the back of that food truck was damned near euphoric! I never thought I would see nature again, let alone anything other than that cell or concrete room.*

*That’s right (y/n), the world has gone to shit, you’re still a prisoner, and you’re HAPPY?? Because you got to see a little nature?!? Get a grip and get your shit together, pay attention! * You chastise yourself.

Hell: “Bear, I mean Sir. Look I know you need answers from her, we all do. But I don’t think you’re going to get any though if you try and question her right now.”

They’ve been squabbling about you and how to best watch you now that you’re awake.

*oh, so they need answers huh? How about me? I need to know… *

Hell turns and looks at you, distracting you from your thoughts. You in turn stare right back.

Hell: “Sir, if anyone right now needs answers, it’s her.” You sit up now that you’re the center of attention, it grates on your nerves; you’ve always hated it when you were the center of attention. “She hasn’t said a word Sir, since she woke up that is. She didn’t even try to run when we stopped here for the night. But Sir, you should know I do not think it’s because she is dumb or mute. That much I can tell.”

Bear: “What are you saying Hell, just spit it out!” He’s frustrated and exhausted.

Medic: “…Sir, I saw it too, Hell is right. I… I think she knows where we are. She became more alert all the sudden when we turned onto the logging road a few miles back. We left the back roll up door open on the truck in case we needed to bail out quickly. Before that… well all she did was stare at us Sir.” *He sighed* “It was like she was examining us, testing us even. I’ve only seen that look one time before Sir.”

Bear: “When was that Jacobsen? Explain it.”

Jacobsen: “Sir, Years back I was with team out in Congo doing security work for the Red Cross. One day the Doctors we were with headed to another village, what we found was mostly burnt to the ground, there were bodies...” *He shakes his head like he’s trying to forget.* “But there was one small hut and in it were 2 women and a few children. They were being held captive. The look she gave us in that truck was like that, assessing, judging every movement we made. It’s….”  

*Shoving his hand in his hair he leans against the wall and slides down it to squat and sighs heavily like a large weight is on him. *

Jacobsen: “Sir, the look she gave us in that truck… It took me right back there back in that jungle. But it’s different as well. She’s waiting for something Sir; even now she is listening to us, judging us. But it’s just, well it’s different with her.”

Bear: “What do you mean, how is it different?” *Looking over at you; you realize by his expression you must be quite the pathetic sight, dirty, matted hair and bones showing. *

*I Suppose I’m not much to look at. * You think snidely to yourself.

Jacobsen: “Sir, I think well…, I’m not sure…” *Heavy sigh* “Sir, I think she was one of us.”

Everything freezes, not one of them make a sound but they all look at you head to toe, re-evaluating you silently.

*Figures a medic would piece it together… I was wondering how long it would be until they figured it out… where is that SOB anyway? *

Bear snaps his eyes back to Jacobsen. “Explain.” Then his eyes return to you. Watching, waiting...

Jacobsen: “I can’t be certain Sir, she fears us I know that much. Doesn’t trust us, I get that. I’ve seen it before and I don’t blame her. If what Hell read in those journals is even half accurate, that sick son of a bitch damned near did everything he could to break her. But unlike those women back then in the jungle, SHE doesn’t shy away when you look her in the eye. It’s, it’s like she was taking inventory of her surroundings Sir, you know like what we were trained to do if captured. Pay attention, analyze and find a way out.” *he roughly drags a hand though his hair and sighs* “Sir, I think she was a soldier, or… she was one at one time.”

*Maybe sitting in the corner wasn’t the best idea, I feel trapped. * your blood starts pumping with adrenaline.

Bear’s ruck falls from the table *THUNK* and hits the cabin floor, it’s the only sound in the cabin.

*No chairs, nothing I can grab to use. * you belatedly think.

Bear: “So what you’re telling me; is that one of our own was left in that shit hole for god knows how long, being abused and tortured by that Psychopath. And the General just let him do that shit to her? Is that what you are telling me?”

Bear looks over at Hell. “You’ve read the journals?”

Hell: “Not all of them; but enough to know what she went through in there, and yes, General Bates knew what was going on and did nothing to stop him.” She gulps in air and looks like she is going to be sick.

She takes a moment to collect herself, “Sir by the way he writes it, General Bates couldn’t do anything about it anyway; by the time he figured out something was going on by then, there were no other Doctors or medical personnel left from the CDC but Harris. That sick bastard he…, I think he did it deliberately Sir.”

Minutes pass and no one looks away from you except for Hell and Jacobsen, it seemed like it was too much for them. *they must have read his personal journals then… he used to read them to me aloud when I stopped responding to him, he thought it would make me angry enough to talk to him again. *

You begin to realize this isn’t just some sick elaborate trick that bastard has concocted. He would never have willingly let you leave that cell unless if it was for one of his tests; even then it was always a concrete room with no windows just the door. If something happened back in that hell hole, he would have let you die in there right alongside him. He was just that twisted and crazed.

SGT Lionel takes a few steps forwards but stops short; 3-4 feet from you he takes a knee in front of you.

Lionel: “I’m James Lionel, I know you think you know who I am. I am not with that sick bastard, I didn’t let you rot in there each time I left. I was biding my time to get you and the others out.” He looks you dead in the eye and with an emotionless face says “He’s dead you should know that; as is the General, they are all dead.” He stands, and over his shoulder he tells Bear“Sir, I am going to get more wood for that fire and maybe find some game to bring back.”

With nothing more than that, he grabs his ruck sack and riffle and leaves the cabin.

Bear sits down on front of the fireplace, looks from it back to you. “You should know it was SGT Lionel that shot Dr. Harris. When we stormed the building; after the General didn’t do anything…” *He sighs and rubs his face* “No we need to go further back than that.”

As Bear begins to explain to you the chain of events that happened; you glance over at the cabin door Lionel left through.

*Maybe I gave up hope to quickly with that one…* You wonder if maybe, just maybe you misjudged him...

To be continued….

[1800pizzagirl]

Vanderpump Rules, Season 7, Recap #9

Come on everybody, gather around and grab a bottle of “Witches of Weho” Pinot Grigio - settle in for a semi-exciting episode of Vanderpump Rules. I realized that what has been missing this season is that the cast hasn’t gone on vacation yet. Remember last season when Jax almost drowned in Big Bear? And Scheana was obsessed with her boyfriend for being able to mount a television in 5 minutes? Anyway, I hope they have an upcoming trip because I don’t care to see TomTom being built anymore.

Speaking of, the episode resumes at the waterless, gasless, no electricity TomTom. Essentially, I feel the same about this process as Giggy passed out on one of the TomTom tables.

I think that Tom Sandoval is the kind of person that is “cut out” to do this job as 5% owner of a bar; Tom Schwartz is questionable, but maybe he can this off. So as Tom Sandoval is running around Los Angeles like a chicken with his head cut off to pickup stuff for the “DailyMail TV” party; Tom Schwartz is charged with going to James’ house to check on his iTunes playlist.

James is set on making up with Lala by writing Randall an apology letter. Raquel is not happy with this and James rips that non-perforated college rule paper right out of his rhymes diary because he stands by his lady. But, turns out that Raquel does not stand by her man as she is going to “Girl’s Night In” at SUR. James was right to be upset, but his little Joffrey Boratheon style breakdown just shows everyone how much he sucks. “IF I CAN’T HAVE FUN, YOU CAN’T! OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”.

Am I just psychic or what? Lala wants to take the girls on a trip to Solvang! Finally! A trip on the PEEJ! I was wondering why I knew what Solvang was but it’s because I saw an episode of Little Women LA where they went there. It all comes full circle. Will Scheana be able to connect with the other ladies on this trip? Or will she just talk about her and Adam hang n’ bang?

I think it’s pretty weird that Lisa Vanderpump, a successful restauranteur, thought it was weird that Tom and Tom were asking for a “term sheet” for their 5% investment. Does she think it’s normal to just take 5% and shake on it? That sounds shady as hell!

It seems like so far this season, Jax and Brittany have just been hanging out alone and talking about their beer cheese. Jax is still grieving from the loss of his father but you can barely tell from how much botox he’s had on his forehead. Although I do feel for him and how strongly he’s still affected by his loss.

The rest of the episode is getting ready for the TomTom party where Beau gets water on Stassi’s pink jumpsuit, Tom Schwartz cleans a toilet and finds out they have little trash cans and Tom Sandoval gets jalapeno on his ball sack. Lisa Vanderpump loves to hold grudges and she will not let Kristen Doute come to this party. It sucks for Tom Schwartz to have to disinvite her as she gets ready but once you are to Lisa’s bad side, you have to crawl through her mini-horse shit at Villa Rosa to get back in her good graces... Stassi did it.

The DJ booth at TomTom is pathetic but there is something sweet about seeing James pop his head through a small window and have to play his mix in a closet through Bluetooth. Although, my biggest worry during the DailyMail TV party was not that there was no air conditioning, or they ran out of ice and Aquafaba but that Lisa would spill that purple drink on her beautiful white dress!

Haven’t they all come a long way? TomTom is about ready to open, Lisa is drunk in public and Stassi is excited to hang out with Lala on her boyfriends PJay. Also, I’m pretty sure that my 2019 Winter aesthetic looks like Kristen sadly eating a bowl of spaghetti in bed.

Until next week, in Solvang! XOXO my five faithful readers.