#probably gonna kill me cuz I’ll need to take next Friday off if I don’t work something out cuz my pill runs out on Wednesday and I just. I

[froggi-mushroom]

Having the most stressful time currently

[ydolanssss]

A hood love story: G.D

Warnings: violence, sexual innuendos, a lot of cursing.

Pairing: Grayson Dolan X female reader.

Summary: bottom line is... remember where tf you came from.

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Friday night lights.....most basic ass idea for a football game.

Just a whole shit-ton of rich ass white kids, acting like they hard when in actuality they have no awareness of anything outside of thier little gated community.

They weren't aware of the situation Grayson was in.

They either villainize him and where he's from, Or they romanticize where he's from. Either way they never talk to him.

They talk to ethan though, because unlike his brother he decided to just forget who he was and where he came from...that including his brother.

But you didn't think like them, you didn't treat people differently because of where they come from, or where they live. So you became friends with gray, best friends, and y'all were together all the time.

"hey gray you tryna go to the game today? You asked leaning on the locker next to his.

"there's a game?"

"yea against the cougars, you wanna go?"

"....mmm" gray never really went to any school event because well...he was kind of a loner, you didn't blame him tho.

"pleeeeeaaaseee, gray can we?" You asked with pleading eyes, and a quivering pouty lip.

"...fine"

"YESSIRRR, let's goo" you shouted, and skipped to class.

You went through the next couple of classes pretty quickly, went home, did some homework and waited for Grayson to come over.

"when you coming over hoe"

"I'm already outside, come on"

You run outside lock the door, hop in the car and head back to the school. The game had already started, but no one had scored yet. You and gray sit on the bleachers, and eat some popcorn.

"who you think finna win?" Gray said shoving food in his mouth. "I don't know, but prolly not our school, they haven't won a game in like...ever."

"true true" gray nodding in agreement untill his phone starts ringing. "Ayo hold up I gotta take this."

"hmm oh okay, I'll stay here" reassuring him. He walks to the back of the bleachers, "yo, wassup?"

*Anonymous* "Ayo when I see you, you getting lit tf up".

"Whoa, what? Who is this?" Gray asked confused as too who was tryna kill him.

"you know who this is lil bruh, it's daymen, oscars brother. You stole some shit from him the other day, and gave it to ya lil rich ass friends."

"what? Rich ass friends? Ion got no rich ass friends."

"okay okay, so you gon lie to me now huh?, Alright look, bring my lil brother his money or you getting lit tf up, and I take ya lil bitch for myself. You know the fine one, wit the braids."

"Don't you fuckin touch her."

Meanwhile you on the bleachers

"bitch what the fuck are you talking about?" Looking at claire and her lil posse.

"you know what I'm talking about, how long you been fucking my boyfriend."

"claire....who's your boyfriend?" You ask genuinely curious, because you do not keep tabs on miss bam-ba-lam-my-cars-a-hundred-grand.

"Grayson is duh." Because apperently that was common knowledge.

"g-grayson, Grayson Dolan the brother of Ethan Dolan, correct, just to make sure, Grayson with a "a" and a "o" not a I or a E. That Grayson?" Ya know...just to be clear.

"yes that Grayson, god are you dense?!"

"Oh no ma'am very much I am not, because the only grayson i know, don't fuck with bitches like you. Oh hell no, cuz yall don't fuck with people like him. And out of the mother fucking blue, he's your man, sweet-pea, i-is that what you telling me?" Because miss ma'am got you fucked alllll the way up.

"oh really how are you gonna tell me who I'm dating, I had sex with and who stole weed for me?" You pause....

"bruh what? Ugh now I know you tripping because Grayson don't fucking smo-"

"Aye, come on! Games boring anyway." Grayson yells from the bottom of the bleachers.

"alrighty well, miss. Thing I don't know what to tell you. Gods speed finding your Grayson because mine don't smoke." You picked up your things and walked with gray back to the car.

"hey what was the call about?" You asked

"huh? Oh it's was just my mom asking how long we were gonna stay at the game, I told her for the next hour so we could go do something else." He said.

You notice he kept looking around a lot, like he's was paranoid, waiting for something to happen.

"gray you good? You keep looking around, what's wrong?" You out ur hand on his shoulder concerned.

"huh?! Ohh nothing nothing let's go, come on"

He drags you to the car, and open the door for you, and he gets in the driver's side and drives off.

"ok I guess, um whatcha wanna do, wanna go to the park, or that on abandoned house that has a perfect view of the sunset, or ice cream, or ice cream and sunset. You looked at him, lip pouting head turn to the side, waiting for answer.

"uhh...ice cream only I wanna get you home okay?" He sighs, hands gripping the wheel tight as hell.

"umm what no I don't wan-"

"No! I have to get you home. I just, I just do, okay? Please I'm sorry for yelling come here." As you two pull in to the ice cream parlor's parking lot.

You lean in and he kisses you on your forehead, " I just need to be safe okay, it's late I don't want you out at night okay?"

"what? What do you mean I'm with you?"

He walks to your side of the car to open the door, "I know but....you cant be around me now at night at least it's not safe." After you get out he walks to the counter and tells you the get a table, you stand puzzled for a bit but you go anyway.

when he gets back with two oreo milkshakes, you ask him, "gray wait why isn't it safe? Why can't I be around you? What going on?." You ask frantic, worried your friend is in some sort of trouble.

"just because you can't don't- who is that?"

He asks leaned down a little.

"who is who? You turn around, and see a car speeding towards you both." Gray grabs your arm and pulls you down.

"GET DOWN! GO RUN BACK TO THE CAR!"

You do, you get to the car get inside and lean down, then you hear gun shots fire.

*bow bow bow bow*

The car skids off and everything is quiet, you look up and you see Grayson laid out on the ground. "oh my god...".

You get out hesitantly walking towards his body, "g-gray...baby, please oh God please no, god don't tell me he's gone" tears streaming down your face, you can't bare to walk any closer, and you drop to your knees and sob.

"no..please not my best friend." As the smoke clears you say this, the sun is setting in the background, it's a somber feeling somehow you feel safe and sad at the same time, while in that same moment your best friend, very much could be breathing his last breaths.

Then, like the miracle baby he is, Grayson wakes up, with a hell of pain in his shoulder. "Wha-? Ohh fuck my shoulder, holy shit, wait where's? Hey, hey, pretty girl why you crying?" He asks litterally sitting up looking at you holding his shoulder.

You stop crying, eyes shoot open. "Wha- GRAY!!" you run over and hug him, crying.

"i-i thought you were dead, *sniff* you were-*sniff* laying there not moving." Say sobbing into his shoulder.

He holds you with his good arm, "shh shh, it's ok, I'm not dead baby, I'm right here, I'm bleeding out of my shoulder and I should probably go to the hospital, but im not dead." His head sitting on top of yours

"oh shit, yea okay let's go." You help him to the car and start driving, you drop him off at the hospital and tell him you're gonna go take care of something.

You get back in your car and drive to a harbor, you then park and start disassembling his gun.

"god...I don't even know why he has this thing, granted he did get shot at but for fucks sake." You mumbled to yourself.

You speed back to the hospital,the doctors tell you he already out of surgery and he's doing fine, and they tell you his room number.

You walk back to his room. "Hey...Grayson baby, you okay?" You whisper not wanting to scare him.

"hmm? Oh yea hey come in." He's sitting up in bed both of his arms in slings. "Can you do me a favors and grab my juice box?"

You look on his tray and there's a little apple juice, juice box on it. "Oh yea sure sweetie." You poke the straw through the hole and hold it up to his mouth.

"Thank you."

"your welcome lovie." The doctor came in. "Ah, I see your already on it, that's good, very sweet of you." You look at him confused.

"um care to explain sir, or am I slow."

He chuckles, "my apologies, um since your friend, I'm assuming has two bad shoulder that have made him unable to move his arms at all he will need around the clock assistance."

You set down the juice box that he basically breathed in. "What do you mean both shoulders I thought he only got shot in one?"

"oh he did but his other shoulder is slightly sprained it's should heal up in a around 2 and a half weeks, while the other shoulder should take at most 4, but normally three. So due to his situation, his arm mobility is hindered untill a later date." He says with his arms crossed over his clip board.

You sit next to gray and look at him, "well I'm down, it's not like we don't spend every single second with each anyway." Gray laughs, "yea I guess thats true."

The doctors clear him and you help him get dressed but since it was late you threw a hoodie on him since there was no use for the sleeves.

You both get in the car and drive to your house, "come on gray we gotta get you to sleep." You tap and rub his tummy to wake him.

You get him up and walk up stairs to your bathroom. "Ok lemme brush your teeth." You sit on the sink and brush for him.

"okay that's done. Um alright it's 2 am ur tired I'm tired we can do the rest tomorrow okay?" You ask Grayson who's barley keeping his eyes open. "Okayyy." He says yawning.

"all right let's go to bed." You walk him over to the side of the bed and help him sit down.

" all right be careful and don't drop all the way down be careful not to lose your- oh fuck!"

You both lost your balance and fell on the bed, your on top of him millimeters away from his face. You never really looked at Grayson that way, never really looked at his eyes, dark as the ocean pulling you deeper and deeper to the point where you don't care if you drown.

Or his lips, they look so soft and smooth, if you were to kiss them it would feel like silk pillows. His lips..."oh fuck his lips."

Grayson catches your eyes staring at his lips and he sits up. "My lips baby, hmm that what you want?" You both sitting up on the bed. "Where? Your neck, cheek?" He drags his nose up the side of your neck to your ear.

"or that pretty little pussy?"

You gasp and get up off of him. "Um okay time to go to bed for real this time. Uh you good? you okay? Need any thing?"

"uh nah, nah I'm good. I guess...I'm laying flat then?" You turn to look at him.

"um yea I think that would be best."

You both start to relax and go to sleep.

"hey gray? I gotta ask you something, you know what's up with clair because she came up to me claiming I'm fucking her boyfriend, who's apperently you and also you stole some weed for her and that just dosent make sense to me."

He jerks his head to look at you "wait what!? When?"

"when you left to answer the phone she said your her boyfriend and she would know the person's she's been fucking and the guy who stole weed for her."

"so that's why- ughh fucking ethan."

"what? What about him? And what was that phone call about?"

He sighed "okay so I got a phone call from this guy named daemin, and I guess he thinks I stole weed from his little brother oscar, and I guess he's been watching me or something he said if I don't get his money he'll light my ass up and he'd go for my lil bitch himself, the one with the braids."

"oh shit so it was Ethan who stole the weed and prolly gave that guy your number, and prolly claimed he was you...now what the fuck wrong with claire?"

"Claire don't know that theres two of us and she don't talk to people he's friends with so he probably lied to her to."

Laying there in shock you think to yourself. "What kinda fucked up shit you got going on to lie about your whole identity and pretend to be your twin brother that you treat like shit?"

"ion know ask him."

You said it outloud.... again. "Oh shit my bad. But I will actually."

"what? No don't-"

"no gray this shit is crazy. YOU GOT SHOT! I'm not gonna let him get away with that shit gray! Now go to bed."

He sighs and closes his eyes.

——————————————————————

Next morning comes around. You wake up early to make grays' breakfast. A protein shake with some greek yogurt mixed with fruit.

You go back upstairs and he's awake.

"hey boo sorry to keep you waiting. I was making your breakfast. Need help?"

"yeth please."

"okay silly, sit up, legs out, and stand up on three okay? One, two, three...theeeere we go."

You walk over to the bathroom. Brush his teeth, wash his face and...help him pee.

"okay so how do you wanna do this gray?"

"umm you could hold it? If you wanna."

"seriously grayson. But that's like-"

"look your gonna have to bathe me at one point within these three weeks so like might as well get used to it."

"mm true, gosh okay."

You pull his pants down quickly trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

"okay so do I just like h-hold it or something? Or like do I just let it hang there?"

"no no you got to hold it bro otherwise I'll piss on myself then you have to change my pants and my underwear and wipe my legs down."

"ewww... Okay okay I guess this is better. Um sorry if my hands are cold."

"your all good."

"speaking of shower, let's just get that out the way because you haven't showered in a brick."

He sighs "alright"

You help him get his clothes off and turn on the shower.

"alright hop in big dic- oop- I mean big head." You giggle to yourself.

"ouu ok baby, oh and just for pure curiosity, which head?"

You slowly turn to him. "The one that made you think of that dumbass question, goofy get in, naughty ass."

"okay! Okay! Shit you the naughty one." Said with a smirk followed by a failed and painful attempt to slap your ass.

"ow! Ow! Fuck my shoulder!"

"and that's what ya get, hop in." You say giving him a pinch on the ass.

"what a nice butt, good for you!"

"thank you queen." He smiles

"your welcome king." And proceed to bathe him

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A couple hours later you left Grayson at home with him and a tv and left out all the snacks on the counter at a reachable level, whole you went out and....handle some business.

On the phone: "hey, meet me at the bleachers okay I need to talk to you about something."

"uh yea sure I'll be there."

A couple hours later, your sitting on the bleachers with the cold New Jersey air, causing your nose to become ice cold.

"hey." You jumped.

"oh shit! Oh hey sorry you scared me."

"ha, yea um sorry about that, so what did you wanna talk about?"

Now to most that seems like a very obvious question, it'd go something like 'hey why the fuck did you lie about your identity and completely drop your twin fucking brother'. Right? No.

The problem is you and Ethan have history, which also adds to the reason why your a lot closer to gray than Ethan and was like the breaking point of Ethan and Grayson relationship.

Basically in freshman year of highschool you and Ethan....dated?? Well no you did date but...it was shorted lived because he decided to cheat...on you. Crazy right? I know. And you'll never guess who he cheated on you with.....Claire!!! Isn't that amazing, what a coincidence.

So the day you found out was kinda intense.....

"What is wrong with you!"

"Why would you do that to her!"

"As long as we've know her!"

"Huh Ethan! What's the matter with you! Who raised you! It wasn't ma! I most definitely wasn't dad!"

Grayson being the lovely, kind, understanding soul that he is decided to give Ethan a piece of his mind after consoling you in the living room.

"Jesus Grayson! It wasn't even that bad!"

With his hands on his hips, mouth ajar and eyes bugging out of his head.

"you've gotta be shitting me. You made out with the bitch ON SNAPCHAT! THEY GOT YOU IN 4K BRO! What do you mean it isn't that bad!"

"look why does it bother you so much? Like it's not your relationship. It's mine."

"Because your my brother and I love you and I love her to, I want her to be loved and appreciated the way she deserves, and I expected better from you, I never thought, my brother, a fucking scumbag of a man. Had the audacity to cheat on his girl. I guess I stand fucking corrected."

They sit in silence for a while. Your in the living room nervous because you've seen them fight of course but, never this heated.

"well if you love so damn much you be with her, I don't fucking want her if there's gonna be this much drama."

Time for you to get angry.

"First of all motherfucker you cheated! Don't you fucking switch this around on me."

Grayson stands in front of you, tear filling your eyes by the gallons.

"I fuckin loved you....so much, so hard...I did. And this what you fucking do...this the last time I love someone as much as I loved you."

And with that you stormed out. Grayson followed disgusted with his brother.

--------

"....so what did you wanna talk about."

You snap back into reality.

"umm well one your fucking brother was shot!"

He jumps back. "What?! Was he really? When by who?"

"a few days ago. most likely by a guy named oscar...who shot him because apparently, Grayson 'sober4L' Dolan™, stole weed from him. Now the only people in this damn highschool that smoke are those rich ass kids you hang out with, and gray got a phone call about this whole situation and claimed that if he didn't get his money or the weed back, he was gonna shoot up him and take his lil girlfriend, 'the one with the braids'."

He rocks back and forth anxiously, knowing he was caught.

"and of course the only girl he's around with braids is me."

"okay look i-"

"Aht aht wait, I'm not done."

"because at the same time grayson was on the phone I had and interaction with the lovely ms.claire. She claimed I was 'fucking her boyfriend' and I asked who and she said 'grayson the one who stole weed for me'."

He puts his head in his hands.

"so now I'm looking at her like she dumb because we both know Grayson dosent smoke, so a couple hours later I ask grayson about the situation and then he tells me about the phone call, so we put two and two together."

"so gray got a call from someone claiming he stole thier weed, claire your lovely girlfriend enlightened me on the fact that I was sleeping with her boyfriend, who stole weed for her. Knowing Grayson is neither dating her or smokes. So who on earth, could have Grayson's number, steal Grayson name and identity and create a whole new fucking life. Oh hmm let's start with the fuck-amato who made the fuck sure no one knew he was a twin and also dates the girl that my ex boyfriend cheated on me with...who just so happens to be the fucking twin. what do you have to say for yourself?"

There is a pause between you and him.

"umm....I'm sorry."

"y-your sorry....SORRY YA BROTHER GOT SHOT AND ITS ALL YOUR- you know what here what we're gonna do."

You pull out your phone and you had saved daemin's number.

"you are gonna call oscar and tell him the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and tell him you'll get his lil cousin his money back okay?" Because if not I will..."

"okay, okay, call him."

You call and the phone starts ringing. He picks up.

"hello?"

"hey daemin I have the actual guy you wanted to shoot at and damn near kill"

"word? Who is it then?"

"his twin brother."

"ohhhh shit. Aw damn aye is gray good man I feel like shit he didn't deserve this."

"he's fine but his brother ethan, on the other hand is the guy you should've got, but look since I don't want both of them shot the fuck up he is gonna over there and hand you the money okay?"

"shit alright"

You end the phone call and he sends you the address.

"alright let's go."

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You and Ethan pull up to daemin's house.

"look when we get in here don't say shit give him the fckn money and don't say shit."

"alright alright"

You walk towards the door and knock on it. It's opens and there stands a guy around Ethan's height.

"um hi are you daemin?"

"yea that me, you got my money?"

"oh yea we do, Ethan give it to him"

He pulls 85 dollars out of his pocket

"here you go man, um sorry for-"

The door slammed in our faces.

"umm I guess that it-"

"how's Graysons shoulder?"

"oh it's good it's getting better I gotta get back to him though, he can't do everything by himself."

"alright cool I just wanted to make sure, does he need anything like I got bandages and a first aid."

"oh no no its fine my mom's a nurse I got all the stuff I need thank you though."

"alright bye drive safe"

"okay thank you!"

You and Ethan get back to the car.

Ethan turns to you. "Um he's nicer than expected."

"yea...um okay, I'm gonna take you back home. "

"yup okay sounds cool. "

The drive to Ethan's was awkward and quiet. He still stayed at him and Graysons childhood home. You haven't been there in years.

"well here we are. God it still looks the same."

"yea hasn't changed since the last time you've been here."

You turn to look at him.

"alrighty well- mphm"

Ethan kisses you holding the side of your face.

"I miss you. I do. I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you. You didn't deserve that, I took you for granted. Please give me another chance."

Your in shock to say the least. Staring at him in disbelief.

"...no Ethan."

"what? What do you mean?!"

"I mean no, I'm not going to go back to you I don't feel that way about you. And honestly once a cheater always a cheater, I just can't give myself back to the same person that changed me emotionally, to where it's hard for me to love people as much as I used to. Like what you do if I cheated on you, would you come back to me? And be honest with yourself."

He moves his hand.

"...no"

"exactly...so don't expect me to be the same. Goodbye Ethan."

He gets out and goes inside and you drive back to your place.

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You come back home Grayson in the living room, on the couch.

You sit next to him and talk to him about what happened, he was worried and frustrated at first with the fact that you went but understood it was your life at risk to. A couple of weeks pass, Graysons wound is fixed and you guys are let out for winter break.

Spending time with Grayson made you realize, what you deserved in a relationship, the love, appreciation, affection, loyalty. All of it, you deserved it.

And you got it, you and Graysons infatuation with one another, grew bigger and bigger over winter break. The Christmas vibes, sleeping in onesies and making cookies. Making love next to the fire place, trails of kisses going down both his and your body.

Afterwords..."hey Grayson? Can I ask you something."

"of course beautiful what is it?"

"how would you feel if we went back to school, ya know together?"

"when were we going separately?"

"nooo silly like together, a thing, an "item". We go back in a relationship. If that's something you want?"

"Are fucking joking! Of course I would baby. God, I've been waiting." And with that you finally found the love of your life, whom which in the future you had your two twin daughters with. Inez and Felicity.

You've never been so content.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 263: [Immigrant Song Intensifies]

Previously on BnHA: Ujiko sicced five Noumus on Miruko. Rephrase that: Ujiko sicced only five Noumus on Miruko. In hindsight this was obviously a mistake. Miruko proceeded to laugh and jump around kicking all of them and literally ripping the head off of the strongest one’s neck with nothing but her thighs. It was legendary and awe-inspiring and also she lost an arm but WHO EVEN CARES, I’m still pledging my allegiance to her. Miruko once beat the sun in a staring contest. Miruko’s calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd, because nobody fucking fools Miruko. Anyway so also the heroes are finally attacking the League of Pliff’s HQ and Skeptic is running around all “AHHHH” so I guess we’ll see how that goes now.

Today on BnHA: Things finally get started over in Gunga, although for the time being most of the kids from 1-A and 1-B are still sitting around in the woods all pent-up and anxious and restlessly shipping KamiJirou. Meanwhile on the front lines, three-and-a-half-year-old Kaminari Denki is all “SOB I WANT TO BE BACK WITH MY FRIENDS WHERE IT’S SAFE”, to which Midnight, who I would just like to remind you is (1) an adult, (2) a teacher, and (3) a person responsible for this literal child’s safety in any number of other capacities, responds with “SORRY KIDDO WE NEED YOUR QUIRK.” I have yet to see any compelling evidence that they really do need it, but putting that dubious matter aside, Kaminari does kick some ass once he gets over his anxieties. Meanwhile Cementoss tears a building in half, Tokoyami reflects on how he was exposed to Kaminari’s good and pure moral character during their many soulful jam sessions, Hawks is about to kill Twice, and – wait, what.

a few stray thoughts since this chapter is taking forever to come out today. one, the good guys need to take out Twice and Toga as soon as they find them, because they’re currently the deadliest combination in the League. Twice for obvious reasons, and Toga because I’m pretty sure she got some of Aizawa’s blood that one time back during the Basement arc, and that fact coupled with the fact that she can now use the quirk of whoever she transforms into spells big trouble for the good guys since she can basically just cancel out whoever’s quirk she wants. plus she’s probably also immune to Midnight’s quirk. all in all bad news

two, it is interesting that Hagakure is the only 1-A kid we haven’t seen yet! probably just me overreacting, but still interesting!

(ETA: we do see her standing next to Mina in this chapter, so so much for that. you get out of it this time Tooru!)

and three, I’m not clear on whether or not Skeptic has actually figured out that Hawks betrayed them, or if he just suspects it, or if he thinks that Hawks leaked something accidentally and doesn’t realize that this entire time the dude was 100% playing them. I’m sure we’ll find out shortly. but regardless of how this plays out, I’m already dreading Twice’s reaction to all this :/ my sweet innocent baby. HE THOUGHT YOU WERE HIS FRIEND HAWKS. HE TRUSTED YOU. fff I really hope Twice’s inherently good and trusting nature isn’t a casualty of all this. then again I still think Twice himself is very unlikely to survive this. so basically I’m just bracing myself for pain sob

(ETA: oh this is bad.)

(ETA 2: by the way just to clarify, the above paragraphs were all written on Friday, and the rest of this recap+all ETAs were written the next day when I finally got to read the chapter! this is not important in any way whatsoever but now you know and that’s half the battle!)

“it’s time” holy shit finally lol. you all have been camped out over here for weeks now. not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy each and every second of Miruko’s one-woman murder show, but it is nice to finally check in with you guys over here so we can get to work at last and I can get a better feel for who’s about to die. cuz someone here is dying guys

the chapter is called “I wanna be with the others!!” so. this is gonna be a Kaminari chapter isn’t it. I wonder what fresh new traitorous hijinks he’ll be getting up to this week. that detestable scoundrel

Mineta is being all weasel-y and reluctant, and honestly, I’m a bit annoyed. and for once it’s not directed at him! it’s like... how do I explain it. okay, so like, the manga is showing him being all cowardly and clearly not at all happy about being out here, and the fact that it’s Mineta doing it only adds to the general flavor of this being the wrong attitude to have and just a really shameful way of acting in general, because it’s Mineta and we all know Mineta is vile and so clearly he’s in the wrong here! the only thing is though, I actually don’t blame him even if he’s being a little shit about it, because the kids absolutely should not be here in the first place. are they strong? fuck yes. are they gonna end up being the ones to turn the tide once everything inevitably goes to shit, and thus the others are really goddamn lucky that they’re here? probably. does that make it right to conscript kids and send them out here to a soon-to-be war zone which the adults have very little control over meaning that some of these children will almost certainly be injured and traumatized and possibly even killed? nope! not right at all! no amount of “plus ultra” can justify this, folks. and “we get that it’s wrong but that’s just the fucked up times we live in” doesn’t actually justify it either, even if the HPSC seems to think so

but having said all that, there’s clearly nothing to be done about it at this point, and I’m about to enjoy this chapter of the kids presumably kicking ass even after all that whining, so I’ll just carefully climb down from my soapbox now. but I’m still keeping it handy just in case!

who the fuck is this Thundercats guy who looks like he was part of an old timey street gang in 1920s Chicago

lol can he hear the villain hotel being ripped in half over there in the distance

and speaking of hearing, Jirou is popping her earbuds into the ground to do some reconnaissance of her own I guess!

the heroes?? she better not mean the villains. oh lord I still don’t have the faintest idea how they’re planning on actually containing them all. well, brace yourselves everyone. here comes the shitshow

now Gangs of New York is making the most unnecessary speech in the history of this manga

were any of them actually going to be careless?? I’m pretty sure they understand the gravity of the situation my dude. and if they didn’t, I’d say that’s honestly on you guys and not on them because, again, they’re kids. and if you didn’t want a bunch of teenagers goofing off during your incredibly dangerous and vitally important do-or-die hero mission, then maybe you shouldn’t have brought a bunch of teenagers to your incredibly dangerous and vitally important do-or-die hero mission

“listen makeste are you just going to sit around all day bitching about my cardinal sin of daring to involve your precious little darlings in the actual plot,” the imaginary Horikoshi that sits around trying to keep these recaps from veering off track interjects. and okay fine

sob it feels wrong to see MomoJirou there without their Kaminari

(ETA: and there is Hagakure on the left, FYI. at least I think that’s her?)

their baby boy is all out there alone in the woods. is that why you were really listening, Jirou? you can tell me, I promise not to make a big deal about it

MOMO ARE YOU COMFORTING JIROU WHILE SHE OPENLY WORRIES ABOUT “TOKOYAMI”

I lied, I might make a big thing about it. what a beautiful March day for some OT3

MY INFANT SON!!

HE’S ONLY TWO YEARS OLD!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? MIDNIGHT YOU BETTER KEEP HIM SAFE!! at least until he makes it back safely into the hands of his friends, the League of Villains

meanwhile here’s a fun tip, this manga gets 100x funnier if you scroll back up to that panel of Jirou being all serious and saying “they’re on the move” now that we know that this outburst is almost certainly what she was listening to lmao. “oh, Kaminari is crying, that must mean they’re getting started”

and here they go!!

who is that in the witch hat?? COULD THIS BE THE LEGENDARY MAJESTIC, AT LONG LAST? this person looks like they cobbled together their entire hero costume from Sero’s bedroom. just ransacked it and draped all of his tapestries and throw pillows every which way over some Adidas pants. goddammit who is this person, I need to know everything about them right now

DAMMIT MIDNIGHT

HE’S NOT OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE THOSE KIND OF DECISIONS GODDAMMIT. HE IS YOUNG AND PLIABLE!! WHAT DID YOU DO, OFFER HIM CANDY. DID YOU PROMISE YOU WOULD TAKE HIM TO CHUCK E. CHEESE AFTER IF HE WAS GOOD

SON OF A BITCH ARE YOU GUILTING HIM

I DON’T LIKE THIS, MIDNIGHT. I MEAN, YOU ALREADY KNOW, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE MADE A BIG SECRET OF IT OR ANYTHING. GUH

and he’s shouting back “no I don’t think you adults are pathetic at all!” while still looking terrified! goddammit how do I cast protection on a fictional character in a manga. I don’t play D&D, but D&D players can do that, right? how do I create a shield around my party. Kaminari you stay put while I try and figure this all out

lmaoooooo Tokoyami’s words of encouragement

A MAGNIFICENT FELLOW. you guys I’m gonna be honest, lately I’ve been enjoying these fan scanlations even more than the official ones at times. obviously Viz’s are fine and good, but sometimes it’s almost like they localize everything a little too much, you know? most people don’t go around calling other people magnificent fellows, but would Tokoyami? yes. yes he would. I believe this in every fiber of my heart

LMAO KAMINARI

“KAMINARI, I REALIZED WHEN WE WERE PLAYING GUITAR TOGETHER... WAY TO WHITE-KNUCKLE THOSE SICK FRETS, HALEN.” thank you so much for that Tokoyami but we are kind of in the middle of something so I’m not sure if right now is really the time to start asking my boy here for his autograph. after, maybe

now Cementoss is literally screaming “ATTACK!” and throwing subtlety to the winds

and now we’re back to this!

and it looks like this is most likely Cementoss using his quirk to tear the building in half! so that’s one mystery from last week solved! holy shit you guys I just realized we’re actually going to see Cementoss in action. so long as the environment is right, dude is a literal earthbender. we may be in for a rare treat

Skeptic is shouting at his minions to alert the Council. it’s okay, Cementoss already alerted them for you I’m pretty sure

so he’s sending Violet and Black to the front entrance, and Cleveland and Carmine to the Assembly Hall (where the Council is). these, if you recall, are the names of the various Vanguard squads, though I don’t recall who is actually on which squad and I really don’t want to go back and look it up... but fine!

okay, Twice is on the Black squad and Dabi and Otter Pop are on Violet. so they’re being dispatched to the front, while Toga, Compress, Spinner, and Skeptic himself (how convenient for you Skeptic) are heading to the Assembly Hall. isn’t that nice that Dabi is heading out to the front, where my son Kaminari “Clapton” Denki is. hahaha. fuck

Lefty Hair is now making a sudden appearance and giving Skeptic some threatening “you majorly fucked up and the only reason I’m letting it slide for now is because we’ve got bigger things to worry about” vibes, which I like. also he has a cigarette. it’s been a while since I’ve seen a manga character actually smoke a cigarette. I guess only villains are allowed to smoke them now

YOU GUYS LOOK HOW FUCKING RAW CEMENTOSS LOOKS HERE HOLY SHIT

HOW MANY PEOPLE IS CEMENTOSS GOING TO KILL TODAY. place your bets. and is cement stronger than fire. please don’t die Cementoss

YOU GUYS HE FUCKING SLAMMED THE FUCKING BUILDING OPEN LIKE ARAGORN OPENING THOSE FUCKING DOUBLE DOORS IN THE TWO TOWERS. I KNOW YOU CAN’T ACTUALLY SLAM A DOOR OPEN BUT ARE WE GOING TO SIT HERE AND ARGUE SEMANTICS ALL DAY OR ARE WE GOING TO KEEP READING??

ARE WE EVEN ALLOWED TO HAVE THIS MUCH BADASSERY IN A CHAPTER THAT DOESN’T HAVE MIRUKO IN IT. LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY FORGOT TO INFORM THE BADASSERY GUILD THAT THEIR UNION MEMBERS ARE WORKING OVERTIME. I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS METAPHOR I GOT TOO EXCITED

by the way I like how a key part of their “let’s contain all the villains” plan was to open up their secret HQ and spill them all out like a bunch of ants. everyone knows this is the best way to keep people contained. instead of stationing people outside of every exit, let’s just make the entire building into one giant exit and MELEE AWAY ALL YOUR PROBLEMS

who died and made Lefty the smartest guy in the room

if only they had all listened to you, Mister Smart Guy. you’re so smart. why didn’t they put you in charge. probably just because they were jealous

booooo it looks like Black and Violet are attacking but Twice and Dabi are nowhere to be found! because they’re part of the Council?? boooo

Best Sweaterist can do anything a sweater can do. it’s not a very good power. everyone was all “you look like the number 3 hero you must be really strong” and so she got promoted waaaaay above her skill level and it’s too late for her to do anything about it now so good luck Best Sweaterist

finally some people from the League!

but where is Hawks? AND WHY IS DABI HEADING THE OPPOSITE WAY AS EVERYONE ELSE HOLY SHIT

LOL HAWKS YOU BEST MAKE YOURSELF SCARCE MY DUDE. OH FUCK

(ETA: Dabi is either going to arrive just in time to save Twice, or just in time to witness Hawks murdering him, and I’m not sure which would be worse.)

OH MY GOD EDGESHOT GOT A LINE

I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT TO HEAR THIS WITH MY OWN TWO EARS IN THE ANIME. IT’S GONNA BE SO GREAT AH MAN. but real talk, Miruko should be above him in the power rankings. I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. but unless you kill three Noumus within the next few pages here I’d say it’s pretty clear cut

OH NO MY SIX-YEAR-OLD SON, MY POOR BABY, HE LOOKS SO FRIGHTENED NOW. LIKE GENUINELY AFRAID-FOR-HIS-LIFE FRIGHTENED AND NOT JUST COMICALLY FRIGHTENED OH MY GOD I CAN’T

Kaminari you sweet little lamb, it’s going to be okay. you just take a deep breath and zap some of these PLF fuckers and then you can go run and hide and you’ll be playing tacky arcade games and eating hit-or-miss-quality pizza before you know it

Kami is actually in a lot of danger here what with how helpless he gets after he uses too much of his quirk though. (unless of course you subscribe to the theory that he doesn’t actually go dumb at all and that’s when he’s secretly transmitting his traitor messages to the zetans.) whose fucking idea was it to put him on the front lines, honestly. he’s only four!!

fuck me, Midnight sees him panicking and she’s being all soothing and encouraging while also being ridiculously sexy as usual. dammit Midnight

hey Kaminari if you want to think about Momo and Jirou I’m not going to complain, I just want you to know that. you can even make it all platonic by just saying “my friends.” either way is fine and I will respect your smokescreen

ahh he’s turning around and the camera is zooming back to the woods where the rest of 1-A are!

the title of this chapter is becoming surprisingly meaningful!! well played!

WOW

I don’t even know what to say?! I basically just slapped both of my cheeks and said “AWWW” out loud?! would you fucking look at these two bisexual icons living it up in this the year of our lord 2020. what a blessing

oh hey this guy decided it was time for him to talk again

okay Kami I give you permission to go pikachu on his ass. go ahead and show us why the heroes went ahead and violated ILO conventions in order to bring you here

don’t tell me this guy is also an electric type. lol who could have guessed that, there were absolutely no clues at all in his hairstyle or anywhere else. I would definitely have noticed something like that because I definitely pay attention to these things lol

(ETA: and presumably the heroes knew the identities of the Vanguard squadron leaders thanks to Hawks, and knew they had to have some sort of plan in place for this guy’s quirk, hence them being all “hey Kaminari let’s talk.”)

anyway

OH SHIT YOU GUYS KAMINARI IS ABOUT TO BE A BADASS!?

MOTHERFUCKER WAS THAT A SHOUNEN WOOSH???! whaaaaaat oh shit everybody brace yourselves

and now a Tokoyami flashback to the two of them jamming like little hero Hendrixes

because he prioritized the health of his fingers beneath his desire to learn the guitar to help his friends perform, you realized he was truly a magnificent fellow. aw shit it’s all coming together

yep

look how evil that smile in the last panel is. clearly the traitor. probably this other electric man is his dad

USING AN ELECTRIC ATTACK AGAINST ANOTHER ELECTRIC TYPE CLEARLY WON’T WORK AND THUS THIS IS ONLY A FAKE ATTACK DESIGNED IN ORDER TO MAINTAIN HIS COVER!

LOOK HOW EVIL HE IS

HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HAVING THIS KIND OF RAW FIREPOWER UNLESS HE’S SECRETLY EVIL!??!

OH MY GOD I LITERALLY SAID “OH MY GOD” VERY LOUDLY IN REAL LIFE AND NOW I’M HOPING MY NEIGHBORS DIDN’T HEAR HOW LOUDLY AND EMBARASSINGLY I SAID “OH MY GOD”

FUUUUCK

just. it’s like this weird and crazy feeling that’s a combination of adrenaline and chills-rushing-up-your-spine. that’s the sensation of clicking to a page and suddenly seeing the thing we fucking knew was going to happen, but just because we knew doesn’t mean we actually wanted it to happen, shit

holy shit. does Jin have to die in order for the heroes to succeed? probably. do I want it to actually happen? NO. am I suddenly reevaluating every single thing I thought I knew about Hawks and mentally updating Jeanist’s presumed mortality status in my head?? yes. are Hawks’s eyes here going to give me nightmares for the entire coming week? also yes. am I really unsettled wondering if those eyes were the last thing Jeanist ever saw? listen why do you keep asking me all of these intrusive and deeply upsetting questions like I’m some kind of magic 8 ball?? am I going to be on the edge of my fucking seat now waiting for next week? fuck

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 2, Bloody Beauty I

The road so far…

A little over a year ago Lulu met, fell for, was saved by – and finally – lost a man like no other she had ever met. Now, in a different city – with a completely different life – she faces new dangers; and a ghost from the past.

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

Rated M

Bloody Beauty I

The music was pumping loudly at Buddies. The air was stale with bad perfume and spilled drinks; and my top was too tight. “Lolita!”, Raul called after me. “Your friends are back”. I took a deep breath, and put on my fakest grin; walking towards the two men at the end of the bar. “Hi, boys, what can I get you?”, I asked.

The two men were both already deep into their third beers. They were both wearing flannel shirts over t-shirts – a painful reminder of some good friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. One of them, I’d never see again.

The taller of the men – ironically enough a brunette with shaggy hair – smirked at me. “Well, your number would be a good start”, he jeered. I grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, buddy. We have a strict don’t date the costumer’s policy in this place”. He frowned at me. “Really?”, he asked. “Nope…”, I said. “It’s just me. Now what’ll you have?”. The shorter of the two laughed. “Another pair of cold ones, honey”, he smiled. I walked away. Honey. The word made me cringe.

I walked back towards Raul, who was bending over to grab some ciders from the fridge behind the bar. I patted his firm butt. “Grab me a couple of cold one’s. And make them warm”. He chuckled, and rubbed the spot my hand had hit. “That’s gonna leave a mark, Lulu”, he grinned; and handed me two beers from a crate beside the fridge. “You’ll have to explain that to Justin”. I furrowed my brows. “What happened to Mark?”, I asked. Raul stood up and frowned at me. “His wife found out”. “Ouch…”, I winced. “Sorry”. Raul shrugged. “It’s fine. He always cried during…”. “I don’t want to know!”, I laughed.

I walked back to my admirers, and put the beers down in front of them, taking the empty ones, and the 10-dollar bill they handed me. “Seriously though, Lulu”, the tall one said. “I’d really just like to get to know you. You seem…”. “I’m going now”, I said, and walked away.

A group of sorority girls with very fake id’s, were trying to flirt with Raul to get him to change the playlist. “Sorry ladies, I’m not in charge of it. You’ll have to talk to Lulu over there”, he smiled, and gestured towards me. I rolled my eyes. “Just let them. We’ll never hear the end of it”.

The group of girls squealed in delight. “Ok, what’s the song?”, Raul said; and a busty blonde leaned across the bar to whisper in his ear. He grinned. “Retro… I like it!”. He came over to where I was standing by the music system’s computer. “I can’t believe you let them do that”, he smiled. “You’re gonna hate their song”. “Why?”, I asked. “You’re in to all that classic rock stuff”, he replied.

He clicked around on the computer for a moment; when suddenly a soft guitar began playing out the speakers. I swallowed hard. “Lying in your arms, so close together. Didn't know just what I had. Now I toss and turn, ‘cause I'm without you. How I'm missing you so bad”. I swallowed hard – feeling like someone punched me in the chest. “Yeah, I hate it. I’m gonna step outside for a moment”, I muttered. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you ok, Lolita?”, he asked. I nodded. “Yeah…”, I said. “Just need air”.

I took off my apron, and passed the dancing sorority girls; who were singing along – very badly – to the song. “I lie awake. I drive myself crazy, drive myself crazy – thinking of you”. I hadn’t been laying awake lately. I’d been sleeping just fine, without any nightmares where I was killing people; and it was all due to – in part – a man I’d met, fallen for; and lost – all in just three days.

The air outside was chilly and refreshing. A few people where stood around smoking and laughing. It was Friday evening after all, and Denver had enough colleges to fill any bar with students willing to pay for overprized booze. I stood for a while, taking a few deep breaths of the night air, before regaining my senses, and stepping back inside.

Passing a table of frat boys; I felt a hand on my ass. I reached back, and grabbed the thumb of the hand; bending it backwards. “Ow! What the hell, lady?”, the man who’d made unwelcome grasp for my butt yelped. Raul came up next to me, in all his bodybuilding glory. “Get out”, he said menacingly. “Now!”. The guys at the table grumbled, but got up to leave. “I’ll have my dad’s lawyer call you!”, the grabber sneered – his blue eyes ablaze with rage. I smirked. “Go ahead. I don’t have a penny he can take, anyway”.

Raul put an arm around me, and led me back behind the bar. “You know, you pinch my butt all the time”, he muttered. “I thought we had an understanding”, I said. “I’ll stop”. Raul grinned. “Nah, go ahead. Reminds me why I’m in to men”. “Ouch!”, I winced, and slapped his butt hard. “Thanks for teaching me that trick, by the way”.

The evening turned into night, and a makeshift dancefloor was created by the sorority girls – as they began moving around tables. I groaned internally as they once again went up to Raul, to get him to change the music. At least they’d moved on to something a little closer to my taste; as Celebrity Skin began blasting. I poured myself a shot of whiskey, and downed it. “Is it dancing time yet, Lolita?”, Raul yelled at me. “You know it is!”, I grinned, and climbed onto the bar, as my laughing friend began moving bottles around for me to be able to move. “Hey, so glad you could make it. Yeah, now you’ve really made it. Hey, there’s only us left now!”, I screamed along; while dancing around on the bar counter; and sending winks at the screaming girls, who were whooping at me. The blonde was clapping her hands at me, and threw up her arms – almost knocking over her friend’s drink. The friend, who seemed to have perfect skin – I was constantly in awe of how these college girls could afford facials – looked at the blonde in annoyance for a second. “Shots for the ladies, Raul!”, I yelled; and the bartender poured a round of our cheapest booze into some shot glasses, handing them over to the squealing girls. I downed one myself; before stumbling, and nearly falling off the bar.

Raul helped me down, and gave me a hug. “You feeling better?”. “Yeah”, I grinned. “Good, ‘cuz the table in the corner needs drinks”, he smiled, and handed me two cold Buds. I frowned. “No more dancing, girls”, I said to the sorority sisters. “Gotta do my job now”. They frowned right back at me; as I walked away.

In the deepest, darkest corner of the bar – only lit up by a single bulb hanging over it, sat two men, deep in conversation. They were both wearing flannels, and I sighed. “I thought I just got you drinks”, I said; facing the two men – and instantly dropped the beers on the floor.

“You’re dead…”, I breathed, and stepped backwards, away from the broken glass at my feet. Dean Winchester looked at me with wide eyes. “Lou?”, he croaked. I looked at the other man – his brother, Sam. “You told me… Dean was…”. I shook my head, and quickly walked away from the table, and out the back door – into the alleyway behind it.

I heard the door open and close behind me. “Lulu… I’m sorry”, Sam was saying. Dean was standing just behind him. “How long?”. He looked down. “How long, Sam?”, I growled. “9 months”, he admitted. “9 months… ok”. I took a deep breath and walked over to the tall man – smacking him hard across the face. Sam stumbled backwards.

Dean stepped forward. “Lou, it wasn’t…”. I stepped over to him, and gave him the same treatment. “You…! Don’t talk right now”. I turned back to Sam. “We spent a week together, Sam”, I said. Dean frowned, and looked at his brother. “I know”, Sam muttered. “You saw me! I was… Oh my god…”. I began heaving for breath.

Dean ran over to me, and put a hand on my back. “Are you ok?”, he asked. “Don’t touch me”, I snarled, and shrugged him off. 

Raul came running outside. He’d taken off his shirt, and was standing in only his tank top – showing off every rip of muscle he had. “Is everything ok here?”, he snarled. I simultaneously nodded and shook my head. “Yes… no”, I said. “You guys should probably leave now”, Raul said, and stepped between me and Dean. Dean visibly tensed up.

I grabbed the bartender’s hand. “It’s fine, Raul”, I muttered. “They’re old… friends”. He looked at me, narrowing his eyes. “Do you usually run away from friends, Lolita?”. Lolita?, Dean mouthed. “Really, I’m ok…”, I said. “Just go… get them fresh beers. They’re paying costumers after all”. “Sure, mami?”, Raul asked. I nodded. Raul gave Dean one last look, and went back inside.

I looked up at the brothers. “You two… go back inside”, I said. “Have your drinks. Then leave. And don’t come back”. “We can leave right now…”, Dean growled. “We can’t…”, Sam muttered. “We have a case”. “Of course you do”, I sighed.

I went back inside; and when I looked over my shoulders, I saw the brothers go back to their table. Behind the bar, Raul gave me a concerned look, as I poured myself another shot, and downed it. I changed the music again; putting on Call Me by Blondie. “How are those drinks coming?”, I asked Raul. “You want me to spit in them?”, he asked. “No… Those two have enough problems as it is”. I grabbed the beers, and walked back to the table.

“Are you trying to tell us something?”, Sam asked. Dean wouldn’t look at me. “What?”, I sneered. “The music?”. Sam tried for a smile. I put the beers down hard on the table. “Enjoy”, I grinned as fake as I could; and walked away.

About an hour later Dean and Sam still hadn’t left – and I wasn’t sure I actually wanted them to leave either. I was well into my sixth shot, and second beer; and Raul was doing his best to keep my spirit up. “So… he kissed you. Then told you he was dying… And now he’s back? What a dick!”. I nodded. “I know, right?”, I yelled over the music. “He’s kind of hot, though”, Raul said. I sighed. “I know”, I admitted. “Did you two…?”. I shook my head. “I think he’s impotent”, I said.

I was getting quite drunk at this point; and when Bad Medicine came on, I once again climbed on to the bar – trying to dance my worries away. I noticed Dean had moved towards the bar to grab a new round for him and Sam; but I did my best to ignore him “Shake it up, just like Bad Medicine!”. I was shaking with the best of them; when I saw the busty sorority blonde sending Dean eyes, and walking over to him. He gave her a warm smile, when she put her hand on his chest. I crouched in front of the pair; and looked down at them. “Sweetie… been there, done that. Got the clap”. The girl winced, and quickly retreated.

Dean looked up at me, narrowing his eyes. “Thanks for that…”, he grunted. “Bon Jovi now?”. “A very underestimated band”, I smiled. “Why are you still here?”. “Paying costumer… cute bartenders”, he smirked. I smiled. “Yeah I know. Raul is hot!”. I winked at my friend, who blew me a kiss and winked back at me. “Boyfriend?”, Dean asked – trying to hide the distaste in his voice. I shrugged. “He’s a boy who’s a friend”. “Huh”, Dean grunted. “Another round, please”, he said, and held out a twenty. I grabbed the note, and stood up. “Coming right up!”, I said, and went to step down from the bar; when I slipped, and fell forwards, right into Deans arms.

“Whoa, Lou. Bit sauced, aren’t we?”. He put me on my feet in front of him, and I tried to frown without giggling. “You’re still cute… but you’re a dick too. It’s not a good combination”. Dean shook his head. “Hey, boyfriend!”, he called towards Raul. “I’m gonna drive the lady home. You got a problem with that?”. “No you’re not”, I tried. “Yeah, I am”, Dean said, and gestured for Sam to come over.

Raul came over to look at me. “You good with that, Lulu?”, he asked. “Absolutely…”, I said; before looking at Dean. “Did I say not?”, I whispered. “Sure”, he muttered. “Ok, then…”.

“I’m gonna need your name, man”, Raul said. “Malcolm Young. You want my social security too?”, Dean grumbled; still trying to keep me upright. I patted his cheek and laughed. “No, you’re not! You’re John Osbourne…”, I said. Raul frowned. Dean sighed. “Alias. We’re FBI”. Sam had come over to join us, and they both held up some badges.

“Hi, Sam!”, I said. “You’re here too!”. Sam stifled a grin. “What did she drink?”, he asked. “Wheee… skey”, I laughed, before looking seriously at Raul. “Going with these men would be a very bad idea, Raul”. “They’re feds”, Raul shrugged. I nodded fiercely. “Yes… fed hunters… feddy hunters”. I sighed deeply. “I love you, Raul”.

My friend looked at Sam, who gave his best impression of a very trustworthy man. “Ok, Lulu. Just call me tomorrow, ok?”. “Yes!”, I smiled. “I shall absolutely use my telephone to dial your number, and communicate with you”. Raul laughed, handed Sam my phone, and went back to serve some patrons.

Dean began leading me towards the door. “Wait… what’s happening?”, I asked. “I’m taking you home”, Dean said. “No, you absolutely are not”, I said; trying to push him off me. “Yes, I am. You can hardly stand”. “Can hardly stand you!”, I said. “Hey. I’m funny. Hi Sam!”. I grinned at the younger brother again. “Hi Lulu. Why don’t you give us your address…”. I shook my head. “Nope. Not happening”, I said. “But come here, and I’ll whisper it”.

Same came up close to me and Dean, and leaned his head down to my mouth to listen. “I drive myself crazy, drive myself crazy – thinking of you!”, I sang loudly into his ear. Dean frowned. “Ok, let’s just go”. In a swift move, he pulled me over his shoulder, so my head was upside down, looking at his backside. “Sir, has anyone ever told you that you have a nice butt?”, I laughed.

Dean carried me towards the door; and Sam opened it for us. I began slapping Deans bottom. “I can walk, Mr. Osbourne!”, I yelled, before pocking at one of his butt cheeks through his jeans. “It’s also very firm”.

I was transported over to the black Impala, and deposited in the backseat. “This car doesn’t have seatbelts. That’s not very safe”. “I won’t tell, if you don’t”, Dean grunted. “Sam get in the back with her, so she doesn’t try to get out”. “I’m being kidnapped!”, I giggled; and leaned against Sam as he entered the car next to me. I poked at his chest. “You’re also very firm. But Dean has nice eyes. I like his eyes. Do you like his eyes?”. Dean got in the driver’s seat, and looked at us in the mirror. “See? Nice eyes…”, I breathed. “Yes, Dean has… nice eyes”, Sam smiled.

I sighed, as Dean started up the car; and drove us down the road. “But he broke my heart… did you know that?”, I said. Deans eyes met mine in the mirror. They were pained.

Then everything went dark.

---

I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton; and I blinked a few times. The room was brightly colored, in turquoise shades; hurting my eyes.

“Good morning, Coyote Ugly”, a dark voice said. I looked in the direction of the voice. Dean was looking at me, from where he was seated in a chair by a table. “I don’t live here…”, I croaked. “No… We do. For now”. “This is your motel?”, I asked. “Yup”, he said, and came over to me; holding out a glass of some rancid smelling liquid. “Hair of the dog?”. I sat up. “What is that?” Dean shrugged. “Alka-Seltzer; Gatorade; a crushed-up Advil – and some charcoal”. He put the glass on the bedside table. “Trust me. It works. Cured my case of the clap”.

I groaned. “Sorry… I guess I said a lot of things last night; up until I blacked out”. “And after”, Dean muttered. I frowned, and grabbed the glass; holding my nose as I drank it. “That is… vile”, I said. “Sam’s getting coffee. Should take away the taste”, Dean said. I sighed. “Right… Sam”. “Yeah. You remember… the guy with the firm chest?”, Dean smirked. I shook my head. “Please, don’t… I’m already embarrassed enough as it is”.

Dean nodded. “You should call your boyfriend”, he muttered. I looked down. “He’s not my boyfriend”, I said quietly. Dean gave me a cold look. “Whatever. Your manfriend, then”.

Dean sat down, and began rifling through some papers – looking out the corner of his eye at me. “How are you feeling”, he said, before clearing his throat. I looked under the covers. “Well, I’m still wearing pants… so that’s an upside”. “You thought we’d undress you?”, Dean frowned. “I don’t know… there are a lot of things I thought you wouldn’t do…”. “Like what?”, He asked. I shrugged. “Come back from the dead, comes to mind”. Dean clenched his jaw. “About that…”.

The door opened. “I got the coffee. She awake?”. Sam stepped inside, and saw me sitting upright. “Great! And no one’s dead yet. That’s good”. “I wouldn’t kill her”, Dean muttered. “She might kill you… and me”, Sam retorted. I narrowed my eyes at the man. “I’m still considering it”, I muttered. “You could drop me off at my place. I could get Dean’s gun…”. Dean threw up his hands in the air. “So that’s where it is”, he said exasperatedly. “Thanks for telling me, Sammy!”. “You said you didn’t want to… you know”, Sam said quietly, nodding his head in my direction. I got out of the bed. “Didn’t want to what?”, I asked. “Nothing”, Dean grunted.

Sam handed me a donut. “Breakfast?”, his voice broke. I shook my head. “Where’s my purse? I need my phone”. Sam handed me my phone. “Your purse is probably still at the bar”, he muttered. “Sorry. We were in a rush”. “I could tell”, I said; dialing up Raul.

“Hola, Lolita!”, his cheery voice rang through. “Threesome go well?”. “No… nothing like that”, I muttered. “Those guys were smoking… too bad. But you’re alive and well”, he said. “I am”, I said. “I have your purse, mami. Give it to you at the bar later?”. “No, babe. I need it now”.

Dean looked up at me, and frowned.

“Right, your keys. You probably need a shower”, Raul said. “Can I come over?”, I asked. “I… have a guest”, Raul said. “Handsy guy turned out to be showing off for his friends… he apparently prefers beards over breasts”, Raul chuckled. “I’ll be right there, baby”, he called to someone in the back. “That sounds… hot”, I grinned.

Dean cleared his throat, and took a deep sip of his coffee. I met his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile. Sam was seemingly pretending like he wasn’t even in the room.

“Raul, please…”, I pleaded. He sighed. “Ok, come over. Just gotta get rid of the hangaround. 30 minutes?”. “Yes. Thanks. See you then”. I hung up, and looked at Dean.

“Could you… maybe give me a ride? I need to get my purse from Raul”, I asked timidly. He stood up, and grabbed his keys from the table. “Sure…”, he muttered. We went towards the door. “Sammy, keep looking. There has to be something”. “Yeah”, Sam said. “It was good seeing you, Lulu”, he tried. I gave him a crooked smile. “I… wish I could say the same”, I whispered; and followed Dean out the door.

---

Giving Dean the address to Raul’s place; I got in the passenger seat next to him – and he drove us out of the motel parking lot. For a good while, we were quiet. Dean turned on the radio; probably trying to end the silence. “Bon Jovi?”, I muttered, as Livin’ on a Prayer began playing. “Rocks on occasion”, he grunted. “Sure does”, I said.

He gazed over at me for a second. “How have you been?”, he asked. “You really wanna know?”, I croaked. He shrugged. “Sure… You seem like you’re doing ok. But no more teaching?”. I smiled. “Couldn’t face dealing with another nightmare-inducing principal”. He chuckled. “I get that”, he said. “So, no more nightmares?”. Save for the one where you leave me, and never come back, I thought. “No”, I lied. “Just the usual… Naked in the middle of a busy street… clowns… that sort of thing”. He nodded. “You naked isn’t my idea of a nightmare, but ok…”.

“Don’t…”, I whispered. He clenched his jaw. “Sorry”, he said, eyes focused on the road. “I guess I didn’t realize…”. “Yes, you did”, I rasped. “That’s why you left before we could get serious. At least that’s what you said, then”. “Meant it”, he grunted. “Yeah?”, I rasped. “Then why didn’t you let me know? Or have Sam let me know?”. The front seat of the Impala suddenly seemed very broad; like there was a mile between us.

Dean swallowed hard. “That place I came back from…”, he began. “So you did come back? You didn’t just ditch me, and pretend to die?”. He looked angrily at me. “Would you let me finish?”, he growled. “And besides, Sam came to see you when I died, didn’t he? You were together… a week, right?”. I let out a scoffing breath. “You think… that’s why you were so short with him”. Dean didn’t answer. “Dean… Sam and me…”. “I don’t wanna hear it, Lou”, he grunted.

I controlled myself; before glaring at him. “Sam showed up at my apartment, a week after you died”, I said. “I said, I don’t…”, he tried. “You’re going to!”, I snarled. “He was a mess – and so was I. We spent a week taking turns getting drunk and crying. When he slept, I watched over him, and vice versa. I was heartbroken, Dean! And so was he…”. Dean looked at me from the corner of his eye. “But we never… That wasn’t even a… no”. In the end, my voice broke, and a tear betrayed me – slipping down my cheek. I quickly dried it away. “Sorry”, Dean muttered. “We’re here”, I whispered; and gestured at Raul’s building.

Dean pulled over, and I got out of the car. Before I closed the door to the Impala, I looked at him. “I remember what I said last night”, I said. “That you broke my heart… And you did. Twice. First, when you left me like you did – after everything that happened… The second time was when I found out that you’d lied”. He frowned. “When did I lie?”. “When you told me what we had was real”, I croaked. “If it was, you would have let me know”.

I closed the car door; and walked away – rushing to get inside the building. I ran up the stairs; and knocked on Raul’s door. He opened within seconds. “Hey, Lolita!”, he grinned; wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He looked at my face, and instantly frowned. “What happened?”. “Nothing”, I croaked.

Raul threw his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest. “Oh, mami. I’m so sorry”, he whispered into my hair. “I’m so, so sorry…”. I held on tightly to him.

“Lulu!”, someone called from behind me. Turned my face away from Raul’s chest, and saw Dean – lips parted, and eyes sad – before his expression turned sour. “Just… wanted to make sure you got in safe. “You should leave, man”, Raul grunted. “Come on, Lolita”, he muttered, and pulled me into the apartment; closing the door behind us.

---

As Raul’s place was closer to Buddie’s than mine was, I kept some spare clothes there, when nights at the bar turned crazy, and I didn’t want to go home. I often stayed on my friend’s couch; especially after some weirdo or other wouldn’t leave me alone at work.

After a spending the day curled up on his couch, the bartender handed me a mug. “Spiked it”, he smiled; as I smelled the luscious cocoa, he’d made me. “Thanks”, I smiled, and drank from the mug. “You feeling better?”, he asked, and stroked my cheek. I sighed. “I’m… much better, yeah”, I said. “Just needed it out of my system”. Raul drew his lips back in a snarl. “I should have kicked his ass”, he said. I shook my head. “It’s fine… But you mind if I take a swing at your punching bag?”. His face lit up. “Go ahead! You know where it is”.

I went into Raul’s bedroom; and walked over to the large red bag hanging in the corner. Fisting my hands, I began punching at it, hard. I lifted my leg, and kicked at it; making it slam against the wall. “Easy, mami”, Raul smiled from the doorway. “I want to be able to get my deposit back one day”. “Sorry”, I chuckled.

Raul put on some protective pads; and stepped over to me. “You got this”, he said. “Remember? Punch, punch, knee”. I struck first at Raul’s face, then his torso – while he covered himself from the blows with the pads – and finally put my knee against the pad he held in front of his groin. “Good. Again. Punch… punch… knee!”, he said. “Yes! Now what do we say to bad ex-boyfriends?”. “Not today!”, I yelled, and laughed. “Good girl”, Raul grinned.

We trained for a few more minutes, before I felt like the alcohol sweat was getting to me, and stepped into the bathroom. I took a shower, and applied some makeup I kept in my purse, looking more or less like I hadn’t spent hours crying while watching TiVo’d RuPaul’s Drag Race with Raul. Stepping out of the bathroom; Raul handed me a fresh set of clothes. “It’s 90’s night. Thought you might want your flannel”.

I frowned when I looked down at the shirt, he’d given me. It was the one Dean had left at my old apartment. “You wear it”, I muttered. Raul shrugged. “Don’t mind if I do!”, he grinned, and put on the flannel.

I grabbed a dark grey tank top for myself, and a pair of tight jeans, ripped at the knees. “You got your combat boots in my closet”, Raul called over his shoulder, as he was doing his hair in the bathroom mirror. “I thought your closet was empty, babe”, I grinned. “For years, mami!”, he said.

I put on my booth, and joined him by the mirror, slapping his butt. “Blue Steel!”, I smiled, and we both contorted our faces into perfect Zoolander looks. “Tonight, we’re getting you laid, mami!”, Raul jeered. I laughed and shook my head. “I’m good; thanks”, I said. Raul grabbed my red lipstick from my purse, and grabbed my chin. “Stand still”, he ordered; and applied the color to my lips. “Perfect”, he said as he finished – pecking my lips chastely. “Let’s get to work”.

---

“What’s in your head? In your head? Zombie…”. The bass was heavy, and most of the patrons were headbanging to the music. I was running back and forth between the many costumers at the bar.

We had extra help that night – a few dropouts that had needed jobs where going between tables, taking orders. “We need a new keg!”, I called over the music. Raul nodded, and went in the back to grab one. “Megan! Table 5!”. I handed the young woman four beers on a tray.

Raul returned to the bar with the keg, and as I moved the nozzle to it; he began a conversation with a person I recognized. I sauntered over, and smirked at the man. “Talk to daddy’s lawyer yet?”. The blue-eyed man smiled embarrassedly. He held up his hand, which was bandaged after my work on it. “Yeah, sorry… That was rude”. “It really was”, I nodded. “But give me a nice tip, and we’ll move past it…”. Raul winked at the man. “He already gave me the…”. “No! Don’t wanna know”, I laughed, and walked away.

I handed another tray of beers to Megan. “Go on sweetie!”, I smiled. “Thanks… Lulu?”, she said. “Yup?”. Her pretty face was smiling brightly at me. “Thanks for convincing the owner to give me this gig. I really appreciate it”. “You’re doing great”, I grinned.

I grabbed a tray of cold ones myself, and walked towards the table who had ordered it. Someone grabbed my arm. I turned around, and stood face to face with one of the girls from the group of sorority sisters the night before; the one with the perfect skin and bright eyes. “Yes?”, I smiled. “I’m sorry. I was just wondering if you’d seen Terri around tonight…”, the girl said. I furrowed my brow. “Terri?”. “The blonde”, the girl said. “You know… the one with the…”. She made a gesture towards her chest. “Ah, yes. Her”, I said. “No, haven’t seen her”. The girl frowned. “She left with some guy last night… haven’t seen her since. She hasn’t called…”. I looked towards the table waiting for their drinks, and sighed. “Look, leave your number with Raul at the bar. If we see her, we’ll call, ok?”. The girl nodded, and walked off. I left the beers at the table, and slid the 20 they handed me into my pocket.

Back at the bar, Raul was still in deep conversation with the blue-eyed man. He seemed like he was trying to brush him off. “But we had something, dude!”, the guy was saying. “Sorry, baby. I have to get back to work”, Raul smiled; and went over to me, rolling his eyes. I pouted. “I think you broke his heart”. “He’ll get over it”, Raul shrugged. “You’re not gonna see him again?”, I asked. “You usually at least give a guy a couple of dates”. Raul cleared his throat, and looked uncomfortable. “He’s got… this thing”, he muttered. I chuckled. “What… Horns? A tail?”. Raul met my eyes. “Dude’s got a tail?”, I whispered with wide eyes. Raul grimaced. “It’s… a tiny one. But it was right in my line of sight”. I winced. “Yikes…”. “Yeah…”, Raul grumbled. “I’m gonna go get a case of Bud”.

I returned to the patrons at the bar; when suddenly I was face to face with Dean again. “Hi”, he muttered. Sam was standing behind him – looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Hey”, I said. Dean clenched his jaw a second. “We’re here on a case… not to hassle you”. I shrugged. “It’s fine”, I said; trying my best not to get lost in his intense stare. “So… what is it?”. He cleared his throat. “It’s… not something we can talk about with people around”, he said; and pulled a picture from his pocket. “This girl; you seen her?”.

Terri was giving me a million-dollar smile from the photo he was holding up. “Yeah she was here last night, remember?”, I said, raising a brow at him. A smile ghosted his face. “Yeah… She’s missing”. I frowned. “Her friend was here earlier, asking for her”, I said. “Probably the girl we talked to down at the college”, Sam said. A group of frat guys were waving at me from the other end of the bar. “Look, I have to go do my job”.

Raul reappeared from the basement; carrying a case of beer. “You let him wear my shirt?”, Dean snapped. “He’s stretching it, with all that… muscle!”. I shrugged. “Sorry… I can have him take it off”, I smirked. “But he’s got nothing on underneath; and it might cause a stir”. Dean frowned. “No… let him have it”. Sam cleared his throat. “We should get back to the case”. I nodded, and walked away.

Megan returned to the bar. “Can you take care of the frat guys over there?”, I asked. “I need some air”. “Sure thing!”, she grinned. I smiled at Raul, who gave me a knowing look; and I went towards the back door.

I closed the door behind me; and went to stand against the wall. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I heard the door open and close again. “Really though? My gun and my shirt?”. I opened my eyes to see Dean looking at me with wide eyes. “I don’t want to do this. Please, Dean”, I said quietly. “Too bad, because I do”, he said; his brows raised in a serious expression. “You said a lot of things back there in the car… but you didn’t let me say anything”. I shrugged. “You didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood”. He stepped towards me; leaving less than a yard between us. “That was because I thought you and Sam… No, you know what? Never mind”. I shook my head. “No, you started this. Finish it!”, I sneered.

Dean took a deep breath; seemingly trying to restrain his anger. “I was in Hell, Lou”, he said. “The actual Hell”. My lips parted, and I drew in a short breath. “What do you mean?”, I whispered. “I mean; hellhounds dragged me downstairs, and demons tortured me – ripped me apart, and put me back together �� every day for years”. Dean looked down, avoiding my eyes. “But… you weren’t gone for…”, I began. “Time works differently there”, he muttered. “After… a long time… I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I was offered a different position to being the demons’ favorite punching bag”.

I lifted my hand to reach for him; but he stepped backwards. It was as if he was afraid, I’d hurt him if I touched him – or he would hurt me. “I became a torturer myself… I was… good at my job”. “Dean…”, I croaked; and stepped towards him – putting my hand on his arm. He shrugged me off. “You shouldn’t…”, he said quietly. “It’s why I didn’t try to find you again… How could you ever…?”. He looked like the weight of the world – or Hell – was on his shoulders.

I put my hand back on his arm – this time he didn’t move; but he still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “That’s not you”, I said. “It is…”, he rasped. “I did those things. I tortured, and slashed and…”. “Stop…”, I whispered, and stepped closer to him; putting my other hand on his cheek. He finally met my eyes tentatively. “I didn’t want to hurt you… still don’t”, he said. “Who I am – what I’ve done… How could I ever be someone…?”.

I put both my arms around his waist, and held on tightly to him. After a moment; I felt his arms surround me; and he put his face into the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry, Dean”, I whispered. “I’m so sorry”. “No… I don’t deserve that”, he muttered. I shook my head, and looked at him – still holding him tight. “I’m sorry that happened to you”, I said. He furrowed his brow. “You sacrificed yourself for your brother. You are a good man”. “But I did those things…”, he said quietly. “Anyone in your place would have”, I said.

He pulled away from me. “If I could have stayed with you, I would have”, he muttered. I smiled. “No you wouldn’t. You have your job. You help people; and that’s not something you can do from one place”. He nodded, and cleared his throat. “But I would have stayed in touch. I really wanted us to… try”. “And now…?”, I rasped. Dean shook his head. “You have the MMA fighter in there…”. I chuckled. “Raul is gay, Dean”, I smiled. His eyes widened. “So, you two are…”. “Friends”, I said. Dean sighed deeply. “Well I’m an idiot!”, he chuckled. I shrugged. “You kind of are, yeah”, I grinned.

Dean stepped towards me again – and putting his hands on either side of my face – he leaned in; and kissed me. I grabbed his wrists, and put his arms around me – putting my own hands behind his head; running my fingers through his short hair. Dean suckled at my lower lip – gently stroking his tongue across it. I let out a soft moan. He pulled me even closer; before backing me against wall – leaving no space between us. My breath was growing ragged, and I let his tongue enter my mouth; as he ran a hand down to my hip, and pressed into me.

All space and time turned in to this. Me and Dean, colliding like comets, and exploding in passion – in a dirty alleyway behind a bar.

“Dean!”. Sam had come out to find his brother. “Wow… sorry. I didn’t mean to…”. He cleared his throat. Dean looked at his brother, and grinned. “Raul is gay!”, he said happily. Sam raised a confused brow. “Yeah I know. He’s spent the last 15 minutes flirting with me”, he said. “Look, dude, we still have a case to finish”.

Dean stepped back from me; and looked at me apologetically. “I need to…”. “Yeah”, I nodded. “I’m gonna call you!”, he said. “You still don’t have my number”, I chuckled. He licked his lip. “I may or may not have texted myself from your phone, while you were passed out last night”, he admitted with a smirk.

We reentered the bar, and the guys followed me over to the bar. I looked at Raul, and blushed. “What?”, I croaked. Dean looked at Raul with a big grin on his face. “That’s a really nice shirt, man!”, he said. Raul laughed. “Yeah, thanks. I like your lipstick!”. Dean rubbed his lips with the back of his hand; and looked at me with a crooked smile. I leaned over the bar, and grabbed his collar – leaving a short kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you around”, I said. “Yeah”, he smirked. I smiled at Sam, who chuckled at me. “See you, Lulu”, he said; and the brothers walked towards the exit.

I spent a moment regaining my wits. “Dean…”, Raul said; wiggling his brows. “I bet you’re really sorry he’s impotent”. “Shut up”, I chuckled. “Where’s Megan?”. Raul frowned. “Haven’t seen her for a while. Could you take this order?”. He handed me a tray, and I went to serve the table.

---

At 2 am I was finally home. My apartment in Denver was smaller than the one I’d had – just a studio – but it was nice; rustic. I had been able to afford a couple of pieces of second hand furniture – including a bed with a metal bar headboard; a small couch and armchair, with a coffee-table to go with it; a small kitchen table with some chairs; and a dresser. My clothes, books, tv, stereo, records and CDs where all I had brought with me – having left behind the furniture in my old place; wanting to avoid the memories of it.

My feet were tired, my shoulders were sore – but my heart was full. I looked at my phone to see if Dean had texted or called; and came across the text he’d sent his own phone. - Lou. I’m sorry. I know I’m the last person you expected to see. I wish things were different. Things were different now.

I was about to send him a text; when there was a knock at the door. It was late for guests, so I looked out the peep-hole to see who was there. With a smile, I immediately opened the door. “Hi”, Dean said; with a nervous look on his face. “How did you find this place?”, I asked. “You’re listed”, he smiled. “Do you want me to…”. “No!”, I interrupted him. “Come in…”.

Dean stepped in to the room, and looked around. I closed the door behind him. “This is… nice”, he said. “Thanks…”, I muttered. “It’s smaller, but I like it”. Dean moved around the room, taking it in. “I just came by to check you got home ok”. “No…”, I said. He frowned. “No?”. I smiled. “That’s not why you came”, I said. He nodded. “You’re right”.

An eternity passed – or just a second, I couldn’t tell – before, with two long steps, Dean wrapped me in his arms, and pressed his lips to mine. I ran my hands up his torso, and he pulled back from me; looking on in wonder, as I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and down his arms – letting it drop to the floor.

Dean attacked my mouth again, and our tongues met at the same time our bodies did. I gasped, as Dean gently pulled at my lip with his teeth – gaging my reaction with intense green eyes. I pulled at his shirt, and he quickly pulled it off; discarding it somewhere over his shoulder – before tugging at the hem of my tank. “Tell me to stop”, he breathed against my mouth. “I’ll leave right away”. “No”, I rasped. “Don’t stop”. I lifted my arms in the air, and let him pull the fabric over my head.

He stepped backwards, and pulled off his own t-shirt. His torso was taut – trimmed, but not ripped. He was strong, I could tell – and remember – and I bit my lip as I looked him over. I stepped close to him again, and ran my fingertips from the amulet in his necklace, across his chest; ending up at a strange tattoo on his peck. Leaning in, I left a soft kiss on it, and gently licked a trail across his collarbone, and up his neck – feeling the stubble on his jaw meet my tongue. Dean drew in a short breath, and grabbed my hair; pulling my head back, so he could kiss me again.

Putting his hands on my thighs, he tapped them; telling me to jump. I giggled slightly, as he caught me; and I straddled his waist. Dean starred into my eyes with lust-blown pupils, and carried me towards the bed; letting his lips brush mine gently, as if to kiss me – then suddenly let go; dropping me onto the mattress.

He grinned down at me; before in a swift move pushing me to lie down, and crawling over me. For a moment he just looked at me. Then, he kissed my lips softly, and moved downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on my chin, my neck, my collarbone; and finally, one of each of my breasts, just where the lace met my skin. The stubble on his chin brushing against my skin, made my breath hitch. I slid my hands down his strong back; feeling his muscles flex under my touch. Dean’s hands where on my waist; and he looked up at me as his fingers travelled towards the button on my jeans – looking for consent. I bit my lip again, and nodded.

Sitting back on his knees – one of them between my legs – Dean opened the button, and then pulled down the zipper. He hooked his fingers into my waistband, and pulled my jeans down. I pulled myself backwards on the bed, so he could pull them off me. Nipping at both of my big toes, he pulled off my socks as well – and with a grin, he threw them over his shoulders, before bending down again, and kissing my knees. His lips left pecks up the inside of my thigh; and his warm breath there left me whimpering quietly, as my body stirred under him.

Dean moved upwards – the whole time looking into my eyes – pausing for a moment over the apex of my thighs, and parting his lips; licking the bottom one. I closed my eyes and put my head back on the pillow. Deans warm breath over my core was enough to make my walls quake. Suddenly he was over me again, kissing my lips. “Tease…”, I smiled against his lips. “You know it”, he said; and flicked my lips with his tongue. I threw my arms around him, and kissed him passionately – pushing his shoulder with one hand, to get him to roll onto his back. Dean obliged, and I straddled his waist – crawling backwards on my knees, so I could open his belt and the button of his jeans – as he looked on in wonder. Before I could finish the job, he sat up; and with a swift move, he unhooked my bra.

“You’ve had practice”, I chuckled. “Susan Farrow?”. He shrugged with a smug smile. Dean pulled at my bra straps, taking off the garment slowly – looking at my chest as he unveiled my mounds. He let out a soft “Oh… wow…”, as my breasts came in to view. I laughed softly, and took his hand to place it one of my mounds. He squeezed it gently, and looked into my eyes again. I parted my lips and drew in a hard breath, when he let his thumb graze over my nipple. Using his index finger as well, he pulled gently at it – leaving it erect. He used his other hand to do the same on my other bud. Moving his hands to my back, he rolled me onto my back again, and got off the bed, finally taking of his pants, boots and socks – leaving him in his boxers.

Dean Winchester was not impotent. The stretched fabric on the front of his underwear gave that away very clearly. I raised my brow at the sight, and let out a pleased breath. Dean shrugged – once again looking quite pleased with himself. He knew exactly how good looking he was.

I sat up and took his hand; pulling him down over me again. This time he didn’t play around. He pushed me to lay down against the pillow – and sucked gently at my nipple – before moving down to my panties, and pulling them off me. Lifting my knee, he put it over his shoulder – gave me a quick smirk – before brushing his lips over my lower ones. “Oh!”, I gasped, as he gently blew at my nub. “This ok?”, he breathed. “Uh huh…”, I moaned.

Dean kissed my bundle off nerves, and then licked over my labia with a flat tongue. His index finger parted my lips and felt for my wetness – apparently striking gold from the sound of his chuckle. The finger entered me down to the knuckle, and bended upwards. I whimpered loudly. “You sure you don’t wanna just watch a movie?”, Dean grinned up at me. “Dean!”, I pleaded with a raspy voice. He chuckled again, and got back to work.

And some work that was. Dean added another finger, and moved them in and out of me – occasionally crooking them upwards – all while gently kissing my nub over and over. “Please…”, I croaked. He opened his mouth slightly, and sucked the little pebble into his mouth; playing with it with the tip of his tongue.

I grasped at the covers underneath me, breathing raggedly; and cursing in a language I didn’t even know myself. Everything went white, as Deans fingers picked up speed, and he sucked at me harder. “Come on, baby”, he breathed; and sucked my nub into his mouth again. His fingers pressed hard upwards – and suddenly I was flying; soaring above the bed as I came. Dean kept going, and I looked down at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. He was going to draw this out. His fingers continued their attack, and his mouth wouldn’t let go off me. I tried to pull backwards – not sure how much more I could take – but he used his free arm to wrap over my thigh and hip, and held me fast against his face.

“I… can’t…”, I sobbed; when suddenly my walls quivered even harder, and it felt like I exploded into tiny little atoms. Every part of me was on fire, and my body convulsed under Dean. I realized then, that what I had felt before was not an orgasm. This was an orgasm – and the most intense one I’d ever had to boot. I cried out my pleasure, and – finally – Dean relented; letting go of me from his lips, and gently withdrawing his fingers from my still throbbing core.

He came up to lay next to me, putting his arm over my belly. “You still with me?”, he chuckled. “No…”, I croaked. “You know, you say that a lot”, he grinned; and pulled me close to him. I felt his erection poke at my thigh. “Don’t worry about it. Come down to earth first”, he said softly. I nodded. “Wow…”, I said. “That was… something else”. “I know”, Dean smirked. “You are so full of yourself!”, I chuckled.

Finally feeling by body relax, I stroked his cheek; and leaned in to kiss him again. As he pulled himself to lay halfway over me, I put one arm around his back, holding him close – while my other hand travelled down his torso. My fingertips grazed over the tip of his member; and he gasped softly. “I haven’t even touched you yet”, I smiled. “I don’t need you to touch me to feel the way I do right now”, he breathed. “It’s enough when you just look at me”. “Well, I’m not satisfied with just looking”, I said, and kissed him passionately, as I put my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and grabbed his hardness.

I stroked him gently – once in a while applying a bit of pleasure – as he just looked into my eyes. “If you could just do that forever, that would be great”, he croaked. ��Really?”, I asked, and nibbled at his lower lip while he whimpered from my touch. “There’s nothing else you’d like to do?”. Darkness ghosted his face, and he quickly pulled off his underwear, and placed himself between my legs. “Hard or soft?”, he almost growled. “Anyway you want it, that’s the way you need it…”, I said quietly. He looked at me in amazement. “Where have they been hiding you?”, he asked. His penis probed my entrance, and using his hand to guide it; he pushed inside me with a agonizingly slow movement. He let me adjust to him for a moment, before – with a soft smile – he began moving.

I lifted one leg and wrapped it around his hips, pulling him towards me. We moved together slowly, stroking every inch of skin we could reach on the other’s body. Kissing my lips gently; I ran my nails down his back – letting him know that what he was doing to me was heavenly. “Lou… you’re gonna make this end much sooner than I’d like it to”, Dean warned me. I skimmed his arms with my nails, and raised a brow at him. “That’s it”, he said with a chiding tone.

With a swift move of Deans hips and his strong arms, I was suddenly on top. “Really?”, I smiled. “Now I have all the control”. “That’s what you think, sweetheart”, he smirked, sat up and caught my wrists; pinning them behind my back.

With his free hand, he grabbed my hip, and began controlling their movements. I struggled against his grip, which made my chest arch forwards; and Dean caught my nipple in his mouth – sucking at it. I grinded against him; and we moaned together – both smiling at the pleasure the other brought us. “You feel… awesome”, Dean gasped against my lips; catching me in another kiss. His hardness inside me – filling my insides perfectly – and the way my grinding caused friction to my clitoris; drew me closer to a second climax. I buried my face in the crook of his neck; and he finally let go of my wrists – letting me embrace him.

My newfound freedom let me move differently, and I began raising and lowering myself on his member – drawing even more wanton noises from his lips. My hands were in his hair, his were on my bottom; helping me rise and fall with his strong arms. “I need to…”, Dean croaked; and flipped us over again – placing my leg over his shoulder. The new angle immediately made me see stars, as the head of his penis rubbed at that special spot inside of me, his fingers had found before – every time he pulled back, and thrusted back inside me again.

Dean picked up the pace; and his breathing grew erratic. My tunnel was clenching around him more and more forcefully, until I finally cried out my climax. Deans brow furrowed. He was desperately trying to hold back; and quickly losing the battle. “Can I…?”, he croaked. I nodded fervently. With a few more hard thrusts; he came undone inside me. I pulled my knee down from his shoulder, and wrapped both my legs and arms around him, as he let go. Finally, he relaxed on top of me. I kissed him gently, and we smiled at each other. “Hi…”, he breathed; looking at me with hazy eyes. “Hey”, I chuckled.

Dean gently pulled out of me, and laid himself next to me; pulling me close, and kissing my shoulder. After a while of just cuddling, and looking at each other; nature called. “I have to…”, I muttered, and pulled out of his arms, as he groaned in annoyance. “Just… give me a few minutes. I’ll be back… Unless you wanna join me in the shower?”. His brows raised in pleased surprise. “I could use a hose down”, he grinned. “Call me when you’re ready”.

I did a naked run to the bathroom; hurriedly finished my business, and washed my hands – before opening the door to call for Dean.

In the middle of the room stood a broody looking man in a beige trench coat. “Jesus Christ!”, I yelped. “Not quite”, the man said with a disinterested voice.

---

[mjihkaaaa]

Transcript: “Randy Writes a Novel” by Randy Feltface

I have transcribed this hour-or-so-long comedy piece. if I put the transcript on tumblr, it might pop up in the search results of some poor sod wondering whether it’s a thing that exists. fAiR uSe DiScLaiMEr or something, I’m making no money off of this and am posting it out of the goodwill of my heart, and also I sat down for two hours to make the transcript so it’s probably work. /original date of transcription, not that it makes a difference: 2019-07-16 /link: you can find the actual piece yourself or buy the dvd like a good consumer

||[Beard guy] Hey Randy? Yeah mate? ||[Beard guy] Ready to do this? (exhale) Yup! ||[Announcer] Please, without further ado... Welcome to the stage... The purple one... Randy! (Applause) YEEES! HELLO! THANK YOU! LOOK AT YOU ALL, MMMH! This is so EXCITING! This is my favourite bit of the show, this bit; The expectation - You don't know what to expect, I don't know what to expect. I've got high hopes for you people. I think you're gonna be fantastic. Some of you may have never seen me before, there's probably a couple of you wondering what the fuck is going on right now - couple of people up the back probably regretting smoking that spliff before they came in... "... ... ... the fuck is that?" it's alright, just relax. Throughout the show I'm probably gonna walk from about here, over to here. Any further than that, it's gonna ruin the magic, alright? And, um, this is pretty much what it's gonna look like for the next fifty-fix-and-a-half minutes, so just adjust your eyeballs to this shit accordingly. Looks pretty good, we did my tech rehearsal today, and we set this lighting stand and was like that looks good, that's good, and Stu, my lighting guy back there, said "iS tHaT iT?" and I was like ehh... eh... no, Stu, we can turn on the lamp as well, like this ... (lamp turns on). Yes. So we did that just to justify Stu's certificate for... in fucking... theatre production. GIVE IT UP FOR STU! UP THE BACK! (Applause) Who's having an alcoholic beverage this evening? (wooing) Ah-WOOO! I don't drink anymore, I used to SLAM that SHIT into my FACE like a WEAPON but I quit ... and nothing really changed, you know, I didn't notice too many differences between being sober and being a drinker ... UNTIL ... the first time I got pulled over by a cop, and had to do a random breath test sober. Because my physcial and emi-seeonal reaction was exactly the same as it had always been when I was a drinker. Which was ... - "OOOOH fuck I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "wind down your window please sir" - "IIIII'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "one long breath into the bag sir" - "NAAAAAAAAAA I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm- (blow) I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked I'm fucked" - "... you're free to go mate" - !!! ... oh yeah, I am, and the sense euphoria I felt was the closest feeling I've had to being drunk since I quit drinking. To the point where I now drive around on friday and saturday nights, LOOKING for cops. And if I get pulled over, I pretend I'm drunk just to get an extra rush... AHHH! Seriously, if you ever get pulled over, and you're sober, pretend you're wasted. Oh, the BUZZ! It's like shelving nine pills at once, it's fucking sick. Seriously, the next time the cop's walking towards the car, just be like - - "ohh, shush everyone he's COMING! act normal he's comin- put it down! put it down, he's coming! shush he's comi-!! he's here!" - "... ... ... Wind down your window please, sir." - "yeah, I'ma do that, I'ma do that, I'M DOING IT! ... Ah, it's electric. The button's in the middle 'cuz it's electric." - "... ... ... Have you had anything to drink tonight, sir?" - "NOOO ossifer [officer] not on a tuesday" - "It's a friday-" - "NO friday either mate!" - "One long breath into the bag please, sir." - "yes I will, you fucking champion ... y'know, people say youse are cunts but I don't reckon youse are, PBRRTT (blow) - WOOO! hahaaa..." (Cop checks bag, shocked.) - "Uh... You're free to go." - "FUCK YEAH! BRRRRRRRRR MEEPMEEP" (Applause) I took it so far once, I got down to the station for a blood test - ahhahaAA, gets addictive when you get to that stage... I've got track marks, it's out of control! and laDIES AND GENTLEMEN - you're very close, aren't you. Hello! (Shriek) Um... The reason we're here is because, didididii, didididi-didii, I wrote a book! Yes! Woo! Yeah, you can clap, but I'm concerned that it might be a bit shit. I don't know. It's weird - this is it here - I'm not sure if it's any good 'cuz I think I'm too close to it, y'know, I can't tell anymore. I'm concerned that it might be, like, an ugly baby that I'm looking at through the eyes of a loving mother? And it's not until I take it out for a walk in its little pram and people start screaming in horror and crossing the street to avoid me that I'll realize I've made a piece of shit baby? There's nothing worse than a piece of shit baby, is there... - "Ah, who's this little guy- WAUGH YOUR BABY'S A PIECE OF SHIT!" - "God... damn it..." But do I need to be told it's good to know that it's good? You know, that's how it goes with comedy; If I come up here and tell a shit joke, you tell me it's shit by not laughing, and I stop telling that joke. But with a BOOK I won't know it's shit until it's out there. Forever. Until I DON'T sell a million copies. Just wake up one morning, surrounded by towering boxes of unsold books, featuring on an episode of mentally deranged hoarders... We need to lay off hoarders, by the way. I think there's one too many television programmes "exposing the horrors" of people that like collecting shit. It's their house, let them do it! - "No we have to fix them!" No you don't, people are fucked up! If they wanna climb over a stack of cat shit stained national geographic magazines from the nineteen seventies to get to the kettle, fucking let 'em. THEY LIKE IT. - "Yeah but it's a mental illness-" Yeah, well, may be, but I would argue it's MORE insane to film them doing it, and then package it like a tacky microwave meal for one, so assholes can sit at home going "LOOK HOW SHIT THAT PERSON IS! They've got too many of the same thing..." ... Who's more insane in that sce-nario, I ponder... ANYWAY my book... My book is called "Walking to Skye", it's about a young man who walks from the southernmost borders of Scotland up to the Isle of Skye in the far north, retracing the footsteps of his great-great-grandfather and having a massive existential crisis along the way. It's a reeeeeeeeeeal HUMDINGER, and now that I've written it I'm terrified to let anybody read it, so what I've decided to dewwww, is; I'm gonna read bits of the book out, you're going to react, and then at the end we'll all collectively decide whether or not I should kill myself. Okay? Okay. Here we go. Hm-hm-hm. Ready? Everybody comfortable? No-one needs to go to the toilet, or get a drink, or anything? No? If you do, seriously, just go for it, because fucking... (waves hand in front of eyes). I'm not.. going.. to notice... Ahem, okay, ahem... Here we go. Alright. Here we go, here we go, okay. Khm. Blblbl. Okay. Phew. Alright. Here we go. Walking to Skye, chapter one. ... Phew. Okay. Khm. Blbl. Okay. Khm. Phew... (Sigh)... (Shivering) Read it... Just fucking read it... Come on man... Just... Son of a bitch... Pth... EHGgghhh... I'm too scared. (Audience goes "aww") No, fuck off. It's weird being scared for this, y'know, it's strange to be scared of something so intangible as JUDGEMENT. You know, I care what you people think, but taste is so subjective. Y'know, one man's "To Kill a Mockingbird" is another man's "Twilight" saga. Hello there, what's your name? (Matthew:) "Matthew." Matthew! N- where- right about there, mattie (adjusting line of sight)? Tell me, Matthew, what do you fear, what's your greatest fear, what are you scared of mate, we're all friends here, open up, unpack some shit, what are you-.. What's your biggest fear, Mattie? (Matthew:) "It must be rejection." Rejection? Same as me. <close> what do you know about my fear of rejection? </close> How old are you, man? (Matthew:) "Twenty-six" Twenty-six! The twenties are the time for rejection, my friend, it is the best time for rejection. Have you been rejected a few times? (Matthew:) "Quite a lot." Fucking rack it up, Mattie, rack it up mate, you just get- you wear those scars like a fucking warrior, mate! And then you get to thirty-six, my age, and you could not give a fuck, my friend. I'm telling you mate, rack up the rejection while you can, and then just.. fucking.. grab whatever's left. That's what you've got to look forward to. Let's hear it for Matthew! Yes! (Applause!) Rejection, eh? I think, actually, Mattie, Mattaroonie, Matterectomy, I think for me, Mattanoonles, I'm actually more scared of ... failure, in this case. I fear that I might've written a shit book, and as a result I'll fail, y'know. But I believe, Mattress, I believe it was Ernest Hemingway who put it best when he said "The first draft of everything is shit". And I often thought of that while I was writing my book, it's a great thing for young readers and young writers, sorry, to keep in mind, because it kind of lets you off the hook, y'know. And it makes you feel not so bad when you churn out something akin to Fifty Shades of Grey fanfiction. - "Every nerve ending in my body tingled as he boldly placed his swollen member directly onto my left shoulder ... and whispered into my ear ... 'tickets please' ... suffice to say, that won't be the last time I catch the bus to Broad Meadows." Khm. True story, true story. Okay, I'm gonna read the book - Broad Meadows, good suburb, Broad Meadows, good name! (Audience member goes WOOO!) Hahahaha, WEEEEEW! Has Broad Meadows ever had that reaction anywhere ever? How good is Broad Meadows- WOOOOOO! WOO! Wooing is one of few things you can do in a crowd. You can't woo when you're on your own, can you... You can't just be walking down the street like WOO! - "What's wrong with that person?" But if there's a group of you going "woo!" it's like, - "Naw, they're having a nice time, aren't they..." Wooing in- when you're in an audience is one of the few times you can get away with wooing. You can't, fucking- don't woo at the butcher's, y'know? - "I'll just have a ... 2 pounds of some sausages and uh, some pound of mince, and let me- six pound fifty WOOOOO!" - "I no longer wish for you to purchase my meat products." What was I talking about? Ah, Broadie? Yeah, Broad Meadows, it's a good name, Broad Meadow, like it makes sense, there was an expanse of just fucking... no stuff, there was some broad meadows, and they went "let's fucking build it here" and it was an honest name. All these new subdivisions now, they're all fucking, just... - "What are we gonna call this deserted swamp?" - "Um... Spring Valley Mountview Niceface." Fuck that! Name them honestly, y'know? - "Where are you living now?" - "Shitty water feature." - "Ah!" - "Where are you?" - "Stabbyville." - "Ah! ... How's that?" - "Yeah, it's good, it's close to schools, which is great, but um... We do get stabbed a lot though, it's a... You know, we knew the risks..." - "'Cuz it was in the name?" - "'Cuz it was in the name! yeEEeeAh." I like an honestly named place. I was Broken Hill recently, that's an honestly named place. - "We had a hill, we fucking broke it. Welcome to Broken Hill." Actually, Broken Hill have gone one further, they've named all the streets in the centre of town after elements. 'Cuz it's a mining town, they went thematic with that shit. So you're walking down Chloride, and you hit the corner of Bromide, or Oxide, I love that! That makes sense to me! I live in Collingwood - it'd be much easier to direct people to my house if I could send them to the corner of Soy Latte and Hipster Fuckwit. That'd take out all the guesswork ... When you're heading to Frankston, don't forget to check out the beautiful parklands on the corner of Bucket Bong and Pregnant Teenager. They are just enchanting. Alright. Gonna read the book. Blblblbl. You cool Matt? Sick. I'm gonna keep talking to you so you feel included. Therefore, not rejected. Khm, okay. Alrighty. Okay. Here we go. Alright. Shut up, I'm gonna read it. Okay. Phew. Walking to Skye, chapter one . . . Fascinating man, Ernest Hemingway. I didn't know a lot about him, but I kept thinking of that quote, "the first draft of everything is shit", while I was writing my book, and I started to think, "who are you to tell me my first draft is shit, Hemingway? What did you ever do that was sO fUckIng gOOd?" So I realized I didn't know anything about him, so I decided to do some research on him, and it proved to be an excellent means of putting off writing my book. And now I can tell you everything I know about him as an excellent means of putting off reading you my book, so... Swings and roundabouts, my friends, swoongs and rimbledibbledoodledoodoos, as they say in Scotland ... They don't say that. No-one has ever said that. Anyway, what I suggest we do, okay, is I'm just gonna tell you a little bit about Ernest Hemingway, bit about Hemmers, and then we'll just let the segway into reading the book develop organically. Like a runaway fungus at the bottom of a misplaced coffee cup. - "Aw, guys, how long has this been behind the couch? ... There's little people in it!" - "Save us! Save us from our porcelain prison!" - "wwWAAH!" (tosses cup) KSSSH - "We're free!" - (Running noise, tktktktktktk) - (Randy steps on the little people with an audible crunch) It's just for me, that bit, it's just for me!.. Okay. Okay, here we go, ladies and gentlemen, for the very first time I would wager in all of your living memories, I now am proud to present to you, the life and times of Ernest Miller Hemingway in approximately three and a half minutes. Go! (Background shifts) Born in Chicago in eighteen ninety-nine, son of a physician and a musician, reasonably uneventful childhood, decided to study journalism. Enlisted with the Red Cross during World War One, got blown up in Milan and spent six months in hospital with severe shrapnel wounds in both legs, fell in love with a nurse, they decided to get married. He came home to prepare, she stayed there and ditched him for an Italian soldier, which initiated a life-long pattern of him rejecting women before they had a chance to reject him. Take note, Mattie. Got a job as a foreign correspondent, fell in love with his roommate's sister, married her and moved to Paris. They hung out with Gertrude Stein, they kicked it with Pablo Picasso, he started writing in earnest, moved to Toronto, had a kid, moved back to Paris, published a couple of books, cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, converted to catholicism ... ... ...  Cut his head open after pulling on a cord thinking he was flushing a toilet, and instead ripped a skylight from the roof and smashed it onto his face, moved to Kansas City, had another kid, his dad committed suicide, he shot a lot of bears for some reason, had a car accident, had another kid, went to Africa to kill some wild animals and got dysentery - Karma! -, published another book, moved to Cuba, shot himself in the leg whilst aiming at a shark! Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, published "For Who the Bell Tolls", sold half a million copies in a couple of months and got nominated for a Pulitzer prize, cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman, became the self-appointed leader of a band of village militia outside of Paris, and was subsequently brought up on charges for contravening the Geneva convention and got away with it like a FUCKING CHAMPION! Got pneumonia, moved back to Cuba, and spent most of his spare time on his boat, tracking nazi u-boats with a machine gun and a pile of hand grenades - I AM NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Had a few more car accidents, three more concussions, got clawed while playing with a lion! ... Got depressed, drank, got fat, published a couple of more books, went back to Africa to shoot some more wild animals and barely survived two separate plane crashed in the space of twenty-four hours, winding up with a fractured skull, internal bleeding, cracked spine, ruptured liver, first degree burns, and a paralyzed sphincter muscle - Karma! -, won a Nobel prize, had a file opened on him by J. Edgar Hoover, left a bunch of shit in a safe in Cuba and moved to Idaho paranoid that the feds were following him, which they were, because he spent most of the nineteen fourties working for the KGB! AGAIN, NOT-MAKING-THIS-SHIT-UP! Suffered from hepatitis, nephritis, hypertension, hemochromatosis, anemia, and impotence - Karma! -, got committed, received way too much electroconvulsive therapy and came out all fucked up, started hinting at suicide so immediately got re-committed, received another couple of months worth of electroconvulsive therapy, got released, put both barrels of his favourite twelve gauge shotgun into his mouth, and BLEW HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF. WHAT A GUY!!! (Applause) Ah... That is all true! What a fucking unit! Hemingway is the quintessential anti-hero, the talented, charismatic, belligerent, suicidal, alcoholic genius that can't keep his dick in his trousers. And he still found time to write about fifteen books! I've written one, and it took me ages, because I procrastinate like a motherfucker! I only got this written by doing most of the work in my local public library, because it's very difficult to masturbate in the reference section without getting caught. It's... It's almost impossible, in fact ... Almost. I don't even enjoy masturbating anymore, I just do it to avoid other tasks. And if it's something I really don't wanna do, I can seriously just go back-to-back wanks, just AARGH, just 'till it's painful, like NAAAAAAAAH, like hurty cum, like MWOOOAAARGH, WOOOMMMHHH MHHHH MMHHMHMMM RMMMMMHHHHOOkay fine I'll do the fucking dishes. And you know the weird thing about books is that you only really need to write one to be considered to be a great writer. Until last year, "To Kill a Mockingbird" was the only book that Harper Lee ever published. One book in eighty-nine years. To be fair that one book did win the Pulitzer prize and sold over fourty million copies, so she didn't really need to do another one, did she... - "Hey Harper, you gonna write another book?" - "Nope! Did you read the first one? FUCKING NAILED IT! FUCKING NAILED IT! I'm just doing the one. Just doing the one." Imagine if I did that. Came up here, told one joke, and then stared at you for fifty-eight minutes. - "You gonna tell another joke?" - "Nope! Did you hear the first one? FUCKING NAILED IT! I'm just doing the one." There's not many jobs where you can just do the one, is there... Just... Writers, and... Suicide bombers. Hard to do two of those... Or maybe UFC fighters that get punched in the head so hard in their first bout that cerebral fluid trickles out of their eye sockets. - "Ohhh, that's fucked Randy..." It happens. It's pretty much the perfect example of why we're sort of festering in this evolutionary cul-de-sac, isn't it? - "Welcome to planet earth, there's approximately seven billion of us, as you can see there's quite a few of us that don't have any clean drinking water, OH! Here's a large group of us that get paid millions of dollars to knee each other in the face! Obviously still... Ironing out a few of the kinks." Martial arts, mixed or otherwise, should not be the domain of fat-necked roughians trying to stomp on each other's ballsacks. Just as yoga should not be taught by twenty-two year old gym instructors that did a one week yoga retreat in Bali and now get around in low-slung fisherman pants with a bindy and a plat talking about mindfulness like they've ever had any fucking life experience at all. I'm sorry, you can tell me to relax and center myself when you spend maybe ten or fifteen years considering what that actually means. Until then, go back to taking photos of the froth on your coffee and shut the fuck up. And I'm torn! I'm torn because I do yoga! I buy oragnic vegetables. I blindly sign internet petitions without reading the fine print, give myself a good old pat on the back and go back to downloading hardcore pornography... I'm trying to be a good buddhist, I'm trying... But it's even difficult to identify as buddhist in the current climate without coming off as some sort of new-age pompous twat dipping his toe into the "What does it all mean?" kiddie pool while holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and staring lecherously across the back yard at your cousin's tits. - "Geez, Tamara's grown up since last Christmas, hasn't she..." And I mean, Buddha was just a dude who found enlightenment sometime around the fifth century, and he decided to stick around and talk about it, y'know. But he made it clear that everything's optional, I guess, y'know, "here's the thing I've discovered, I think it's pretty nifty, but you can find your own way through it". He was kind of like a benevolent woodwork teacher, just overseeing the workshop, but allowing his students to discover for themselves which machine is most likely to cut their fucking head off. - BRRRRRRRRRRR-WAUGH! - "It was that one, Gareth, well done. A plus, matey, A plus for you." And there's been loads of other buddhas since, right, but they haven't necessarily felt the calling to stick around and talk about it. I guess they just become enlightened and fuck off. I think that's fantastic. But ... Are you only enlightened if you're able to share it with people? Y'know? If I write a book and nobody reads it, is it still art? What is the collective noun for monkeys? ... ... ... Seriously, does anybody know what it is? I was trying to think of it all day. Anybody? (Inaudible audience response) What? (Audience member:) "Gang" Gang? Gang of monkeys? Coming through on my gang of monkeys, we're a little gang of monkeys, ooh-A-A-A! It's not gang! Anybody else? If you come up with something stupid, I'll sing a dumb song about it ..? What else? (Inaudible audience response) What is it? (Inaudible audience response) ... Oh you people are fucked. Does anybody know what it is? It's not barrel, by the way. It's troop. What, what did you say, uhh... Gang. Who-what, what's your name, who said gang? Where are you? (Victoria:) "Victoria." Victoria? How are you, Victoria? (Victoria:) "Great." Thanks for coming to my show. Hey, Victoria, riddle me this m'sister, have you read "Go Set a Watchman"? Harper Lee's new book? (Victoria:) "Naw." Naw. Has anybody read it? (Audience member:) "Half." Half. That is the best book review ever. - "I read half." Has anybody read "To Kill a Mockingbird"? (audience responds yes) yEES we reAD IT at scHOOL, fuck off. For those of you who haven't- for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, "Go Set a Watchman" was the Harper Lee book that came out last year, right, and if you don't know the backstory, alright, I'll just fill you in. Victoria, listen up. Um... Basically, Harper Lee, right? So, Harper Lee, she had a stroke in two thousand and seven, and until she died earlier this year, she was in like, assisted care, she was in a wheelchair, she was deaf and she was blind, and her sister Alice had been taking care of all of her affairs, until Alice died in twenty fourteen at the age of one hundred and three, like a fucking boss... Anyway before Alice died she was pretty much the last line of defence between Harper and this 'lawyer' that had just sort of been loitering in the wings, right. And when Alice died, this 'lawyer' just happened to discover the manuscript for "Go Set a Watchman" in the locked safety deposit box in an obscure vault in a random bank, where it had been busy minding its own business for the last fifty-six and a half years, and according to the 'lawyer', Harper was delighted that the manuscript had been discovered, and suddenly reversed her life-long vow to never ever ever publish another book ever ever again, particularly not "Go Set a Watchman" which she actually wrote before "To Kill a Mockingbird" and didn't think was very good. Other people think that maybe the 'lawyer' was attempting to get filthy rich by brutally fist-fucking an eighty-nine year old stroke victim, but the question is; ... ... ... The question is, if "To Kill a Mockingbird" had've stayed in that vault, alongside this newly discovered manuscript, would it still technically be a work of literary genius? Or is it only when something's been evaluated by the world and possibly someone's made some cash off it that it's considered to be valid artistic expression? Is art only art once it's been witnessed? Acknowledged? If I don't take a bow at the end of this show, does it devalue the performance? Will you feel unsatisfied? Or rejected? ... I recently read that book "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work" by Alaine de Button, and in it, he says; "we might consider art as anything which pushes our thoughts in important, yet neglected directions". Now, I'd like to consider what I do artistic expression, but that sort of poses the question - do people really need their thought pushed in the direction of old ladies being brutally fist-fucked? Is that my artistic legacy? Is that what I'm gonna leave behind? Y'know, "Randy... He was the old lady fisting guy, wasn't he? Eh. Very droll, very droll. Yeah." Because Ernest Hemingway is remembered more for his literary talents than for being an insufferable cunt with a penchant for killing shit and cheating on his multiple wives, does his artistic legacy outshine his tactless and unfortunate personal life? Is it better to be a mindful human that leaves no palpable remnants of artistry behind, or a violently unlikeable sexual deviant that shits handfuls of heart-breakingly beautiful sonnets and sonnatas out of his asshole before brunch? Because it's the image of the tortured, self-destructive artist that prevails nine times out of ten. Amy Winehouse was just a girl that wanted to sing some songs, do you know what I mean? So... Should I just keep my fucking mouth shut? And try to navigate towards enlightenment, leaving behind an intangible trail of good deeds? Or do I dive deeper and deeper into the inky, black ocean of self-destruction and self-indulgence until I nail my chosen art form, leaving an echo for the eternal wonderment of countless future generations that will just breeze over my asshole personality? ... it's what's keeping me up in the night times. Eh... (Pause) Y'know, from the moment we're born we become less than human? You know that? E-... E-hh... Eh... All the bacteria from our mother is passed onto us on the way out of the womb, and from then on, we just continue to collect shit, on the inside and the outside, until the day we expire. Occasionally, you get to choose what that shit is, but most of the time you have very little say in where it comes from or when. You just have to duck and weave your way through the shit for as long as you can, until the chunk of shit with your name on it finally-AAARGH! cleans you up. Look, I know this was billed as a comedy, but a-ha-ha-HAA! LET'S TALK ABOUT DEATH! Woo! There are some pretty fucking ridiculous ways to die, though- OH, like that guy, that scuba diver they found when they put out the bush fire! *oh my go-od have you heard this fucking sto-ory?* They put out, like, a bush fire, and they found a dude in full scuba gear, and they figured out that the water bomber plane or helicopter that scoops up the water to put out the fire accidentally picked up a diver and dumped him into the flames! What a fucked up way to go! It's pretty much the polar opposite of "He died peacefully in his sleep", isn't it? Just dumped out of a plane into a blazing inferno... with a highly flammable gas tank instead of a parachute strapped to your back? - "NOOoo!" (Explosion noice) "I just wanted to look at the fish..." What do you say to his family? - "Uhh... At least he died doing what he loved." Well, he was a firefighter that enjoyed skydiving and water sports, but I'm not sure he ever wanted to combine the three... That's better, isn't it? - "Tell more jokes you little purple fucker." I had a good joke the other day - How do you know if a hippie has been to your house? ... They're still there. Haa... How do you know if someone's vegan? ... They'll tell you, yes, ahaHAHAA! Hahahaha, I'm vegan. Um... I initially became vegan for environmental and ethical reasons, and now I just do it to give people the shits at dinner parties. Like, - "Get it away, I can't eat that, meat is murder, STOP HAVING FUN EVERYONE!" It's a funny conversation, the vegan one, you bring it up, people just go - "... shut up fuckhead" But it's funny, 'cuz you know you don't actually need to eat meat. You don't NEED it. Nobody actually needs it. Unless you're on hemodialasys and you have to inhale a rare porterhouse steak every three hours to stop your kidneys backing in, you don't actually need it. That makes it a choice, and it's your choice. As long as you understand that that choice is born from belief and that particular belief is called "carnism". It's an inherited belief system that sort of conditions us to eat meat, and the notion is so... pervasive, I guess, it's viewed as a given rather than a choice. But it's totally a choice. - "Where do you get your proteins from then you little poofter!?" PEAS! (Gasp) It's crazy. And I know it's easy to just lump veganism in with all the other food allergies and just go - "They're the annoying fuckheads that don't eat the good stuff" which I get, I totally get... We're having Christmas at my house this year, right? Three months out, my cousin calls me to discuss her son, my cousin's son, which makes him... Someone I couldn't give a fuck about, anyway; She calls me up, the first thing she says - she doesn't even say hello - the first thing she says is "Brayden can't have blue." - "What the fuck? - "BRAYDEN can't eat BLUE FOODS." Apparently this kid, if he eats anything with a blue food preservative in it, he just KLKH (imitates death) just taps out. That is bullshit! Firstly, don't call your kid Brayden. Secondly... secondly, blue is not even a natural colour for foodstuffs. It occurs very rarely in nature- name me one blue food. (Audience member:) "Blueberry." BLUEBERRIES ARE FUCKING PURPLE! I'm talking about mentos blue, like seven eleven slushie blue, what flavour is that? Fucking highlighter? - "Ah no Randy, blue means mint-" MINT IS GREEN- if you planted mint and it came up blue, you would SET that SHIT on FIRE. - "And that's cool! It's cool! it's like ice, it's like water!" Water is clear. The only time water is blue, is when there's billions of tonnes of it and it's all in the one spot. And then it's got all sorts of shit in it, like salt, and SHARKS ... BLUE MEANS SHARKS IN IT! don't eAt iT it'S gOT SHARKS IN IT! You know, when sharks eat people, it's fucked, but it shits me how they immmediately go out and kill the shark like - "awrH it's gONe roGUe. iT's gOnE rOgUE!" No it hasn't, it's just doing what millions of years of evolution have programmed it to do, fucking swim around eating shit. - "yeeeeeeeah but ... ... ... it came into our bit. thIs bit's oUR bit oF tHe ocEAn." No-see that bit there? That big fucking wet bit? That's its bit. This bit here, all of this dry bit here, that you're standing on with your legs, your legs that have evolved to stand on the dry bit, that's your bit. You go into its bit, you're going to get bit. That's the lesson. ... Paddle out next to a seal colony and wiggle your ass around like a slutty little ol' dove, complaining when you get munched. It's that weird disconnect, y'know, it's the same thing as carnism, it's like if I imagine a pig is just a pig, and all pigs are the same, then I can detach what is on my plate from how it got there. It's just how most of us are brought up, y'know. But if you saw someone slit the throat of a Labrador, and then string it upside down to die an excrutiating death just squirming and bleeding out at the end of a steel hook, you'd think it was a bit fucked. How is a pig any different? It's not. It's actually not ... I said that on stage in Rock Hampton, in Queensland about four months ago. I was like, "how is a pig any different?", and a man in the audience yelled out "BACON!". Touché, sir. You win this round. He actually came up to me after the show - I was standing at the merch desk not selling anything - and he-.. I saw him coming from the other side of the room, just this massive dude, like - (stomping noises) - "Ah, you're a large man" and he said - "I was the one that said bacon" - "fucking don't kill me" and he goes - "nah, you alright mate, you alright mate, you alr-" It's the most passive-aggressive Aussie male thing you can say to another- - "naah, you alright mate, you-" It basically means "I wanna punch your fucking head in, but I don't wanna upset me misses. You alright mate." Anyway, he goes to me, - "Mate, you're not gonna make any friends in rock hampton being vegan. Did you know that Rocky is actually the beef capital of Australia-" - "ah fuck I didn't know that" - "-with over two and a half million head of cattle within a two point five k radius of the town centre?" - "fuck I didn't know that either" - "And that is a fair wack of the thirteen million head of cattle in Queensland alone, seventy percent of which is bred purely for export. Few fun facts for ya matey, few fun facts." I said - "thank you sir I did not know any of that" Did you know that, globally, cows produce thirty-eight percent more greenhouse gas than every single car, truck, bus, boat, train, and plane combined each year? That breeding animals for food uses up one third of the planet's fresh water? Takes up fourty-five percent of the earth's surface, and is responsible for a whopping ninety-one percent of amazon destruction, making it the number one leading cause of species extionction, resource consumption, and environmental degradation destroying the planet on a daily basis? FEW FUN FACTS FOR YA MATEY, FEW FUN FACTS FOR YA! Now, I'm aware this is in danger of becoming a TED talk at this point... - "jesus, a lot of statistics, is there gonna be a test?" It's alright, it's fine, I'll read the book, alright? I'll read the book. Not forcing my opinions on you, I'm merely saying them with a microphone, and you're paying for it. LOCK THE DOORS-no, seriously, okay, here we go. Khm. I'm gonna read the book. Y'know we've got McDonald's home delivery now? Does anyone do that? (Audience responds) You... You do? You know you can already get it in your car? You can get it without getting out of your car, but what McDonald's have now done is they've removed the gruelling walk from the front door to the car, so you no longer have to do that humiliating - "BWAAAAAARGGGGGHHHHH- WUUUUUUUUUAHHHH! OOOOOOOAAAAARGGHHHH! Now I have to reverend carpool! Oh, God damn you, God damn you -click- MRRRRRRGHHHH! HMMMMMRGHH! MMMMOOUUHHH WHY CANNOT THEY JUST BRING IT TO MEIN HAUS?" Well now they can. I think it's a good thing. Keep the fatties off the streets, STOP 'EM HOGGING UP THE FOOT PATHS, if they wanna eat shit, let them do it in their own home- WHO'S WITH ME? (Audience starts applauding) Don't clap that, it's a horrible thing to say. yoU'RE moNSTerS! ... Okay. You all good Mattie? Sweet. Okay, here we go. Blblblblbl, okay, kh-hm, alright, here we go, buggedabuggedabuggeda, okay. Stop it! Okay ... Do you like my typewriter, by the way? Isn't it beautiful? It's basically here just as a prop, but occasionally I am always tempted to just go ... (humming). Eh? A few "Murder She Wrote" fans in the house? Heyo? Everyone else going - "What? What is that? Sounds like an old person's joke." ... it is! It is! It totally is! Alright. Here we go. Okay, fuck, here we go. Blblblblbl. Walking to Skye, chapter one ... I bought a bookshelf on Gumtree recently, um, it was an amazing experience, I'll quickly tell you about it and then I'll read the book, but- I found it strange, becasue it made me start to think about the way our, like, methods of communication have sort of changed over the years, y'know? In the old days, if you wanted a bookshelf, you'd just go see Gareth the Bookshelf Guy, 'cuz he was the dude in your tribe that made the bookshelves, he had a little bookshelf cave, he was REPUTABLE. Now any mad bastard can sell their shit on Gumtree, you know what I mean? As a species, we're sort of able to cope with knowing and gossiping around like a hundred, or a hundred and fifty people. That's like the limit of our tribe. Any more than that, it starts to get confusing, which is why we created abstract constructs like territories and deities to unite larger groups of people under an imaginary common factor. And it works the trick, because we only really gather en masse on special occasions, but I think like social media and mmmh... It's fucking all that up, y'know? I think we're able to deal with the thousands of people we're connected to on a daily basis, and as a result we neglect our immediate one fifty, y'know? That's why I never get invited to parties anymore. It's not 'cuz I ramble on about veganism and fisting old ladies, it's because I'm not on facebook and everybody just assumes you are. I am so behind on the births, deaths, and marriages of my friends that I feel like the time traveller's wife every time I go to a party, I'm like... - "This is Tim, he's our son, he's six now-" - "Fucking... Didn't even know you were pregnant." Anyway, you know smartphones, aren't they great? You know that, right, they're not, they're not that great, you don't need the internet in your pocket, you work at Cole's, okay? You're not working for the president, you don't need it, you don't need that much information. And also, what was the point of developing opposable thumbs for you to take a photo of your head, post it on the internet, and then just stand by for validation. No-one gives a fuck about your head! They'll only validate it in order to gain permission to post a photo of their own head on the internet and stand by for validation. The people who give a fuck about your head will at some point see it in real life. Fuck your head and the neck it rode in on. Your vanity is sucking up my bandwidth ... Anyway this is what's going through my head as I'm on Gumtree looking for a bookshelf, because- you know when you put something on the... on the... in like... in the search in booktree- in booktree? what the fuck- When you put something in the search on Gumtree - I'm having a stroke up here - When you put something in the search, right, and like, there's always a couple of things that come up in the list that are like the polar opposite of what you searched for, and like "get out of my head gumtree algorithms, CONSPIRACY!"? No but seriously, it's all you type, it's like "bookshelf", and it's all bookshelf, bookshelf, bookshelf, grammophone? Huh. Bookshelf, bookshelf, bookshelf, combine harvester? What the fuck? ... Huh, that's actually a pretty good price. Anyway, on this particular day, I found two bookshelves that worked for me, in terms of cost, and more importantly, geographical convenience, 'cuz I'd be fucked if I'm driving to Broad Meadows to pick up a bookshelf, right? So I type in bookshelf, and I see the two things, and I'm like okay, one seller is Cathy, the other is Morgan. I send them both the same text message, "Hello! I saw your bookshelf on gumtree, is it still available?". Cathy texts back straight away, saying - "sorRRY iT wENt thIS MorNING!" - "That's cool, Cathy, I'm sorry I gave you an annoying voice in the retelling of this story." Morgan's response came through a couple of minutes later, and simply read, - "It was my wife's bookshelf." ... HOW DO YOU RESPOND TO THAT? Aside from the fact that it doesn't answer my fucking question... His use of past tense in that sentence unnerved me slightly. I'm like, aahhh, I should probably just find another bookshelf... And then I noticed he lived in the suburb next to me, so I replied; - "Is it still available?" He responded with the letter Y. Just a Y. Is he asking me why I wanna know if it's still available? Or is it a Y for "yes", and he's so in the throws of grief that he can't manage the E and the S? I assume it's a Y for "yes" and respond, - "Cool! I'll take it. When's a good time to come and pick it up?" No reply for fifteen minutes, I'm like... ah he's forgotten about it, fuck it, I'll find another bookshelf, and then when his reply actually does come through I realize he spent those fifteen minutes crafting his response, because it's a FUCKING THESIS. He must've felt so bad about only using a single consonant in his previous text that he just massively overcompensated with this one. Also, for some reason, felt that the use of punctuation? Entirely unnecessary. So it's just one obscenely long sentence, which reads; - "You must come and pick up now I only have short time here at house and also it wide so bring van or trailer and there's stair but I can help you carry it down stair if you come park out front walk up path ring bell and I will help you carry it to trailer or van I only accept cash and if you do not come now I will sell it someone else" (Shriek) Again I'm thinking, ahhh, I should just find another bookshelf at this point, but now I am FASCINATED by Morgan, and I simply must meet the man. So I drive over to his house- before I left, I sent him a message saying - "Cool, I'll be there in ten minutes" and he replied "ok", but spelled it OK-A-Y which just fascinated me more, that he'll use four letters to spell a two letter word, but only one letter to spell a three letter word, MORGAN IS OFF THE FUCKING CHAIN! And as I'm driving over to his house, I'm trying to picture what he's gonna be like, y'know... His pidgin English might suggest ethnicity of some sort, but I don't wanna racially profile him; Maybe he's an old man who recently lost his wife and is not that very good at texting, or maybe, and I'm really hoping this is the case, Morgan is just batshit crazy. So I get to his house, and I go up to the- ehe, I park out front walk up path ring bell, and I... I brace myself for the door to be opened by like, an old man in a smoking jacket, wearing fishnet stockings and suspenders, just puffing on an opium pipe while a butler just creepily polishes a goldfish in the background, and then a tiny pugdog wearing a fez hat just trots up the hallway, sits on the mat, looks up at me and says "RELCOME TO OUR ROVERY ROME!"... And then the door opens, and I am thoroughly disappointed. Before me stands an average caucasian male in his mid-thirties, dressed casually, hipster sheek, stubble, glasses with designer frames, expensive watch - I immediately think "architect?" but the house is too cheesy for that - it's like a double story doll's house with bay windows - but definitely a designer of some kind? Maybe a graphic designer? He's too skinny for manual labour, but he's too hip for the public sector, BUT THIS CAN'T BE MORGAN. Because Morgan's text messages would suggest that he's not that technically savvy, and then the man standing in front of me says - "Hello my name is Morgan" AND THE PLOT THICKENS! He invites me in, shakes my hand, closes the door, and twenty minutes later, I will be witnessing Morgan perform some of the most aggressive acts of violence I've ever seen in my life, and I will be speeding away in my car bleeding from the face. Here's how this shit went down... I go into the house, and I notice two things immediately; One, this is a house in the throws of renovation. Nothing too extreme, but there's like drop sheets on all the furniture, there's freshly painted walls, there's a bathtub wrapped in plastic in the hallway, awaiting installation- someone's doing some work on this house. The second thing I notice, on the way up the stairs to the second floor, on the first floor landing, is a wedding photograph featuring a very cleanly shaven Morgan with a very beautiful bride. Very much in love! The photograph is very much on the floor, and the glass in the frame is very much smashed. She's not dead, she's left him, and THE PLOT THICKENS A BIT MORE FOR MORGAN! And as Morgan unceremoniously like, kicks the photo frame to one side on the way up the stairs, I really wanted to pry into Morgan's life and ask heaps of inappropriate questions... But he was clearly a broken man. He had this terrible air of sadness around him, so I didn't wanna intrude. Luckily for me, though, I didn't have to, because Morgan immediately began oversharing and told me the whole fucking story aaAAAH! Thank you Morgan! I shall hang off your every word and then retell your tale to two hundred strangers and record it for a fucking DVD! He IS a graphic designer -YES!- and he's really good at it. He does like massive rebranding campaigns for large corporations, he gets flown all over the world doing this shit, right? About four years ago, a woman hired Morgan to rebrand her florist business, and he did such a great job she married him. And he thought everything was just fine, until about three months ago. Morgan had to do a presentation in Sydney, right? But he was on his way home from overseas and got stuck in Dubai due to a flight cancellation, so rather than cancel the meeting, Morgan suggested to these businessmen in Sydney that they do a Skype chat, because he's so technologically savvy, despite his fucking baffling text message style. So Morgan checks into a hotel, cracks open his laptop, and starts skyping with this room full of businessmen in Sydney, who are all watching Morgan on a massive screen on their boardroom wall, right? And everything's going great, Morgan is totally nailing it, until about halfway through; He realizes that a file he wants to show these dudes is on the desktop of his home computer back in his home office in Melbourne. And he decides to live share the desktop of his home computer on the Skype chat. He knows how to do that, he can remote control his computer from anywhere in the world, it's not particularly new technology, but Morgan makes it sound so impressive. So this room full of businessmen are all watching keenly, like - "OOAHP! MARGARET, BRING IN SOME BISCUITS, THERE'S SOME NEW-FANGLED SHIT GOING ON IN HERE!!!" as Morgan clicks a few buttons and (click) brings up the desktop of his home computer on the Skype chat. Now, what Morgan doesn't realize is that his wife has been using the "Photobooth" app on that particular computer to take pictures of herself. To take naked pictures of herself. To take naked pictures of herself... doing some pretty fucked up shit. It's embarassing, to say the least, just as Margaret came back in with the biscuits- - "I've got you the b-WHUIEAAAAURRRHHH!!!" Now, those of you who are familiar with the Photobooth app will know that how it works, is it accesses the built-in camera in your computer and with the click of a button, (click) takes a photo of you when you're standing in front of your screen. And if you know that, you also know that if you leave that application open, the camera also stays open, witnessing whatever may be happening in front of the computer, in real time. Such as your wife, in your home office, fucking your best mate. OOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOORGANNNN... Nooooo... Morgan then goes on to tell me she's keeping the house, his former best mate is moving in, and while they're out for the day shopping for fittings, Morgan must suffer the indignity of moving his shit out, and selling the stuff they don't want on Gumtree to this guy. Ahhh... It's at this point of the story that Morgan starts crying, he breaks down, and I do not blame the man, it's fucking horrible and I just wanna give him a big hug and say "Everything's gonna be alright, Morgan", but I am holding the full weight of a BOOKSHELF halfway down a set of STAIRS and Morgan is the only thing stopping that bookshelf from caving my face in- I was like, MORGAN! MMMMORGAN! And Morgan managed to pull himself together ... for about eight seconds? And then just went BAHHH and let the bookshelf go. I fell backwards, it literally rolled over me, and took out the light hanging above the staircase, I'm now lying on my back getting showered in broken glass, as the bookshelf turned end over end and just went FONK right through a freshly painted wall at the bottom of the stairs. I'm like, AAH. aaAAAh. aaAAAAAAhhh. aaAAAAAHHH. I've got a tiny cut on my forehead which is just pissing blood, for some reason - apart from that, I'm fine. Morgan, however - he's not fine! Morgan is the opposite of fine. Something happened when the bookshelf lodged itself in the wall and his sadness just (click) went away in a second, and he started PISSING HIMSELF laughing. Hysterical. And he had the creepiest laugh I've ever heard in my life- I'm standing there like "this is weird" and he's like "mwhueHUEUEEUEUEUE! mhhwuEUEUEUE!" like some sort of demonically possessed baritone cookaburra, - "mwhueEUUEUEE, a-HOGUGUGUGAGAGAGA!" - "Um... Uh..." - "mwueEUEUUEUEUE" - "can I still have the bookshelf?" - "yuuEEEEAAH" We extract it from the wall - the bookshelf, incidentally, showing no sign of having just rolled down a staircase and smashed through a wall. We carry it out to my car- we had to stop about six times, 'cuz Morgan was like - "Hang on a minute, mwueHUEUEUEUEUEE" We got it to my car, put it on the trailer, and Morgan was in such a great mood he let me have the bookshelf for free. Ohh! Hahaha... Mm... And that's where the story SHOULD end. But there was something about the bookshelf going through the wall that flipped a fucking switch in Morgan's head, and he is now hungry for more destruction. So as I started tying the bookshelf down to my trailer, Morgan just strolls over to like an upright mailbox on the front lawn and just starts trying to wrench it out of the ground. Really putting his back into it. I'm like, "are you okay buddy" and he's like "YEAP" (struggling) HUAH! He pulls it out of the ground whereupon he wields it like a fucking battleaxe and just starts smashing up the front garden, just beheading the daisies, fucking up the lavender... I'm like, "uhh, hey Morgan, maybe you wanna stop and think about that" and he whirled around and looked at me like Jack Nicolson chasing Shelly Duvalle up the stairs in the shining and said - "WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS?" ... yep, yep, cool, man, yep, yep... Now, I like tying knots. I'm quite good at tying knots if I tie something down I take my time because I want it to stay there... But as Morgan nonchalantly strolled up the driveway, rolled up the garage door, and put the mailbox through the windscreen of an Audi!? I must admit, I kind of rushed my knot tying job. I got in my car, I'm about to drive off, I'm like, looking at the house going "ah, I'm sure he'll be fine" and then an armchair smashed out of an upstairs window and just went DOINK DOINK DOINK DOINK down the front lawn. I was like "... what's my duty of care in this situation?". I didn't want to call the cops on him, I didn't want him to trash the house, I'm like - "daw fuck I'm gonna have to talk to Morgan" So I got out, I walked up the driveway shitting myself- you know when someone does something really violent and you're just like "ah, fuck, we're not supposed to do shit like that!"? Yucky, just yucky feeling in my tum-tum- and I'm standing there, standing there in the garage and there's like an adjoining door in the garage that leads into the house. I can see in through the door into the house, up the staircase, it's like a wooden staircase, and I'm standing in the garage just going - "ah fuck..." (gulp) "morgaaaan. Morgaaaan!" Like I was calling a cat for its dinner? "Morgan! Moggie-moggie-moggie-moggie-moggie!" And then I notice a small trickle of water start to come from the top step. And then a little bit more water, and then QUITE A LOT OF WATER, just pissing down the stairs like shitty water feature, I'm like "aw that can't be right" and then Morgan appeared on the top step holding a hammer like this: - "BAAAH!" (jumps out) I was like - "WOAH!" and he's like - "mwhuEUEUEUE" Starts running at me wielding the hammer, like "UEUEUEUE", I'm like "aw no no I just wanted to buy a bookshelf..." he's like "UEUEUEUEUEUE-.. RRAH!" runs straight past me, I'm like - "Where are you going?" he's like - "UEEEH!" made a beeline for my car, I'm like - "NO, MAN! STOP!" he's like - "UEUEUEUEUUEUE" - "STOP IT! JUST STOP!" He spins around and goes - "I just checked my phone, she texted me fifteen minutes ago saying she'll be here in fifteen minutes, WE'RE GONNA GO!" and gets into my car! - "fucking... jesus... fuck me" I run down the lawn, get in the driver's seat, I'm like - "What was with the water?" he goes - "Ah, I put plugs in all of the sinks and turned all the taps on!" I'm like - "Oh that's fucked" He's like - "JUST DRIVE!" I was like - "AAH!" I took off so quick, rounded the corner of his street, and the bookshelf just went "mrrreeUUWh-BOOSH" and exploded against the guard rail, just exploded in a shower of badly tied knots and broken dreams... So me and Morgan just fucking left it there, like a little breadcrumb for his ex wife to find on the way home to her destroyed gingerbread house. I dropped Morgan at a train station. I have never seen him again. And that, my friends, is why I no longer shop on Gumtree. Thank you very much! Thank you very much. (Applause) Haha, ah, fuck... You know my favourite bit of that story? I just made it up. Yes, not true. There is no Morgan. MMMH! It's very unsatisfying, isn't it? - "But I saw him in my head. I saw Morgan in my head." ... ... ... Why is it we can feel so robbed when someone tells us a story we just heard isn't true, and yet so satisfied at the end of a fictional novel? Y'know? You know that? ... You know the other great thing about that story? First draft. FUCK YOU HEMINGWAY! ... (sigh) Can't end on that, can I? - "Those LIES? WE DID NOT COME HERE TO BE HOODWINKED, SIR!" The truth, eh? ... The truth is, I'm... I'm not an exceptional person, y'know? Nothing interesting really ever happens to me, I'm massively flawed, and I think I'm quite forgettable, if I'm being a hundred percent honest. And this isn't the shit bit at the end of the show where I get on the cross, I'm like "lOve mE on the wAY OUt thE doOr". It's not that, it's just that I don't think- on a scale from one to memorable, I'm not that memorable. Not on like the Morgan sort of scale, not on the Ernest Hemingway scale, certainly, y'know... But if I tell a great story, maybe people will remember that instead. Remember the card trick and just... pretend that they don't know how it's done, y'know? ... But must we leave a legacy? MUST we make an impact? Do we HAVE TO leave a footprint? Is it okay to just settle, seek safety, nest, y'know? Or must we constantly shake our lives up, or suffer the indiscriminate cruelty of having it shaken against our will? Must we try to carve a path through the tall grass, feeling as though no-one has ever felt how we feel? Terrified at what may be lurking low in the grass on either side of us, but just pressing ever on with that paleolithic instinct deep within our chromosomes that the only way is forward, that you HAVE TO keep going? That eventually you'll stumble upon the edge of the field, hitch a ride from a passing car, and meet up with the rest of the gang for tea and sandwiches at the old town hall? ... (deep breath) Do we feel like the path that we are carving through the grass is all our own? Only to finally float above the field with the sweet relief of expiration and realize that the field is insignificantly miniscule in size, and that there's only one path through the grass - the exact same one that every human has trod before us will ever after, just stumbling blindly along a tiny hyphen between the words "birth" and "death". And when reduced to that level of crisp simplicity, fear cannot exist ... So. (pausing, readying) Phew. Walking to Skye, chapter one: (Blackout) (Applause and credits)

[whats-the-story-tc]

7th of February, 2020

"The One Where We Find Each Other (and Don't Stop Looking)"

[LONG AS FUCK SORRY I HAD A BIT OF A DAY]

As I came to school in the morning, I met one of the boys who's in the play I'm doing, and asked me about rehearsal. Now, I didn't know there was rehearsal today in the first place, so I immediately rushed up to the teachers' lounge to find A and ask her. And in the process of looking for one of the women I can never find when I'm looking for her, I crossed paths with the other one.

V came out grinning and sat down at one of the computers. But as I was about to turn around and walk away, she asked me "What's wrong, Specs?", and I told her I was looking for A. "I don't think you should look for A much this early. Is it really-really urgent?" I replied that I just wanted to clear up a bit of a misunderstanding, so it wasn't really that urgent. "I'll tell her [you were looking for her] when I see her." With the biggest grin on my face, I thanked her and ran off. A arrived about 5 minutes later. I guess I owe her one for this.

I went into V's class a bit later in quite the bad mood. The second rehearsal beforehand didn't go quite as well. I'm never nervous when it's a bunch of strangers watching me, but in front of my classmates, with that cousin of mine who loves to criticise me at any given occasion, my head was full, and I couldn't seem to concentrate. Luckily, V gave me something to think about — metonymy and synecdoche. See, the thing I love about Grammar is that even though I speak my native tongue fluently, and use it every day, there are so many things I don't know yet. Even now, 8-9-ish hours later, I feel excited. This, now this is my kind of stuff, the things we use every day without a second thought, the things that are bare essentials to everyday speech and we don't even know we're using them, and how diversely it can be used. Good Lord am I glad to be taught by someone like V. I would never have got so invested without her. (So invested that I even stopped writing this post just to add a few things to my class notes. Jesus, Specs, nerd much?)

But, as we know here on @/whats-the-story-tc, a class with V isn't really a class without memorable quotes. When she started explaining what a synecdoche is to us, she told us that it's possible to describe a person by referring to them only by one of their body parts. Silence fell for a few seconds, a very knowing silence. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing, but nobody dared to say it. Then V asked us to find a non-vulgar example. She's a cold-hard professional, so she didn't say what we were all thinking, like our Chem teacher did yesterday in a similar situation, but this kinda confirmed it that Pocketwatch Friend and I weren't the only ones with "dick" on our minds. That sounded so wrong I'm so sorry-----------

We also covered symbols today, and, as she explained unique symbols invented by certain poets, that may mean dozens of different things, she brought up her favourite ironic "What do the blue curtains symbolise?" question. "For one, it's about longing for their lover, for the other, about their life's worries, and for the third, about having run out of milk."

After class, I trodded up to her just before she left to ask her to clarify something about synecdoches. "So we can describe a whole with a part—" "—and vice versa." she finished my sentence just as I was saying it, although I worded it differently. As they say, great minds think alike. Or I'm just very predictable. Depends.

Lunch break before sixth period, I'm talking with my friends. I don't exactly remember what the context was, but we were joking around and V came up. Debate Friend said "V has no emotions." I could hear the Kill Bill alarms sounding in my head, even though I am and was fully aware she was joking. I took a deep breath and lead her out into the corridor to talk it through. We all know, even on here, that V is someone rather deeply emotional, just doesn't like to show it. I've known since last June. Debate Friend told me V and I are alike in this regard. Well, what can I say? Us lovers of literature really do have the softest hearts. But I told her that we do show it, all the time, every little thing, even if we wouldn't like to, you just have to know a person enough to know where to look. Like they know me and I like to think I know V.

To further prove my statement, I told Debate Friend about one of the posts from V's late SNS account. I don't want to talk about it much, as I don't feel like it would be right, but let me just say... while I was laughing or at least smiling at most of her feed, this one almost made me cry. Caption and picture alike. I finished the story just in time, cuz the next minute, Debate Friend warned me that V was coming, probably so I wouldn't say anything I shouldn't in front of her. I looked back in surprise, only to notice that she really was coming our way, and when I looked at Debate Friend again, we both broke out in hysterical laughter, as V passed us by. I wonder what she was thinking.

As I was photographing the progress I made with my painting later, V came in and set her stuff down on the desk before our second class of the day with her, immediately leaving after. A couple minutes later, when I went outside, I happened upon her, as she was all curled up on the stairway right beside our classroom with her phone, like some students are. Bless. She was beyond adorable.

All I'm gonna say is, the introduction to the literature of Russian romanticism and Pushkin wasn't what kept me occupied while V was speaking. The afternoon sun was coming in through the windows, and I let myself get a little lost in those ever familiar eyes again. With her usual eyeshadow, it was quite the sight, especially when the light hit her face directly. Good Lord.

It being seventh period, the Boys in the Back were even noisier than usual. When V had had enough, she just went ahead and slammed her hand against the blackboard to quiet them, something she hasn't done in a while. I admit, I jumped a little. She's really bloody strong, you guys.

One of the girls in my class learns Russian outside school, and, because she was really enthusiastic and really wanted to write some things on the board, V went ahead and let her. I understood some of it, cause I can read cyrillic (I was very bored this one afternoon), but not cursive, so... yeah. Then Blonde Boy in the Back started complaining about why anyone would learn Russian, and V stepped the fuck up and said "Well, I still think it's cooler to learn Russian than to bitch about others in English class." LADIES AND GENTLEMAN AND NON-BINARY PEOPLE, THIS WOMAN IS A FUCKING LEGEND.

And here is where the crazy part comes.

The people start coming and they don't stop comin' to V to recite the poem, us others are waiting for the bell to ring. The first girl does quite well, but at the end, V grins and teasingly tells her "Managed to get the ending wrong?" That's when she first looked me in the eyes.

"Come, [Name], enchant me" she tells the next victim coming her way. Later, our eyes meet again.

And again.

And again, now with a pen still hanging from her mouth. No joke. I kept tabs.

The bell rings, and the people start leaving. I'm staying behind, to wait for Art Friend (who is the same girl as the one I named Flower Friend in earlier posts, I just forgot the pseudonym I gave her) and Debate Friend. As I do, I walk around, sit down, stand up, do random shit, and sometimes check my phone.

So I'm less bored, I go up to V while she's listening to someone and ask her "Should I clean the board?" (I know she's a multitasker so I wouldn't throw her off.) She turns to me with big, shiny eyes, and a gentle, nearly childlike expression as if I just offered her something groundbreaking and tells me "Thanks." It's not like my classmates didn't proceed to draw shit on it once I wiped it clean, but an effort has been made. For those eyes, it was well worth it. And, as I was wiping, I caught her absent-mindedly fiddling with the paintbrushes my Art teacher forgot on the desk. You guys... how was I ever afraid of this woman?

Cynical Twat came next, and he was trying to win himself time so he didn't have to go to IT class (half the class has it on Friday, my half on Wednesday), so he was pretending to think and walk around and generally be super slow. I don't think I've ever seen V laugh so much. Me and Debate Friend were giggling as well, but honestly, V looked just generally really relaxed and happy as she grinned, and couldn't stop smiling. This is probably the point where she was so tired everything suddenly felt even funnier than it is. Been there.

Another friend from the other class showed up then and took my place, and Art Friend told me "You can go back to her." I did a double take. We were in the doorway and the bloody door was open! "[Art Friend], we don't declare these things out loud!" I told her. She looked surprise. "I was talking about [Debate Friend]." Oh. Right. Yeah.

So I went back in. According to my phone notes, we met eyes again.

Then again, when I decided to sit on the ground. She looked down at me, I immediately looked away, a smile creeping up my lips before I could stop it. If she needed any assurance about my feelings, which I'm quite sure she suspects... this was it.

As she listened to Art Friend, she was sat in her chair hugging both her knees. When you'd think she couldn't find stupider positions to sit in...

The friend with the Russian affinity read us a bit of... something in Russian while a very nervous Debate Friend prepared. V and I were both thrown off, as neither of us speaks it, and the sheer 'how does she do that' of the situation made us both laugh in surprise. As we did, we found each other's eyes again, and again a few seconds later. "I don't even know where the words end," said V. Apparently, we shared another look, according to what I wrote.

Debate Friend really struggled with that poem, and nearly gave up after the second verse. V was really concentrating, forehead wrinkling. She wanted her to get it right. "Jesus, kitten, what's got into you? At least let's get one half of it done!" And eventually, though, as V said "it really hurt", Debate Friend did manage to wrestle her way through the poem. As she did, V kept herself busy organising the paintbrushes on the desk neatly with this absent-minded smile, while I crouched at the desk beside hers and spared her the occasional look sometimes. And as she was trying to decide on a grade to give Debate Friend, she bit her lip. I don't think I've ever seen her do that before. I didn't know what I was missing.

"Take care of yourselves!" she told us as she was leaving, and I immediately responded with a "You too, Miss!", cuz when could I shut up? She grinned as she was walking away.

I saw her once after that, outside, as I was walked out the gates listening to Florence + The Machine — one of the songs I dedicated to V, no less. There she was, same cuffed jeans, same low-cut boots, all wrapped up in a dark coat, walking away in another direction, hair flying. I stayed and watched until she disappeared out of sight from where I was standing, then I proceeded to walk home all giddy, nearly in tears.

I don't think I've ever been this in love before.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[mari-archive]

This is for the dear anon that requested for Mirio, your idea was so good that I ended up writing a scenario and I didn’t even get half of your request in it. I’d be more than happy to do a part 2 for you!

I don’t know what to title this so if you guys have any ideas let me know~

Word count - 1810

It was like any other day, should you confess or not? This thought has been buried in your mind and then resurfaces every day. It’s hard to confess to the one you love, especially when it’s the sunshine boy himself Mirio, he’s not like other guys….he’s just different and that’s what attracted you to him but like you there are probably others with the same feelings, who's to say he’s not already dating someone in secret?

You let out a long and slow sigh as you look out the window of your classroom, it was lunchtime so you had the room to yourself but thinking about all this just made you depressed. You were in the general department in UA, not really wanting to be a hero but also wanting to help in some way, your quirk wasn’t very extravagant or useful doing hero work anyway so this worked out for you.

“What’s wrong y/n?” You turn around to see your long-time friend Mei, it’s weird not seeing her all jazzed up in her newest gear. Although she’s in the support department she always makes time to come visit you, it’s like she can sense when you’re sad.

“It’s nothing don’t worry, wanna eat together?” You bring your lunch box up and dangle it a little with a smile, hoping she won’t press you to tell her, sure she knows about your crush but today you just don’t really want to talk about it.

“Hmmm okay okay but if you ever wanna talk you know I’m here….alright now let’s go eat!” With a smile, she grabs your hand carefully and doesn’t pull too hard so your lunch won’t get messed up or spill out everywhere and starts dragging you to the courtyard. (Tbh I don’t remember if UA has a courtyard or not but just pretend it does ok) You always go to the courtyard mainly because that’s where Mirio and his friends eat or just hang out plus the view was always nice no matter the weather. You both sit down on the same bench as yesterday and start eating in silence normally Mei would be chatting your ear off but she knows not to when you’re upset, she always goes for basic small talk then.

“Hey y/n that guys been staring at you for a while now…” looking up to see what she was talking about you see a guy with dark hair and eyes someone that would normally not catch your attention unless like now someone says something but as soon as your eyes meet he turns away and then a few seconds later he gets up and leaves.

“Ok that was a little weird” you look to Mei and she just nods with a mouth full of food. The bell rings shortly after this weird endeavor and you and Mei soon go your separate ways, walking back your classroom you make a mental note about the weird boy and try and find him again and as your looking around you don’t watch where you’re going and bump into someone.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I wasn't watching where I was going” as you look up to see who exactly you bumped into and…….well it was Mirio…yeah the one you had a massive crush on but was too scared to talk to, you could feel the blush all over your face, your face probably looks like a whole tomato at this point.

“ Hey don’t worry about it! But uh are you okay your face is kinda red?” He bends down to your height and before he could put his hand on your forehead you jump back.

“ Yeah…uh totally fine hahaha sorry again but gotta get to class haha,” you say as you quickly run passed him, leaving Mirio confused and in the dust.

You quickly run making a sharp turn so you’re out of sight from Mirio’s curious gaze.

Oh my goodness you just talked to him, oh like yeah sure you’ve talked to him before but never that close and he was gonna touch your forehead. Apart of you is cursing yourself for leaving but another is thanking you cuz you might have had a heart attack from the excitement.

As you calmly but excitedly jump around and give yourself a pat on the back and a few fist bumps here and there, you hear the bell ring and your mind is drawn back to reality.....oh yeah class...you were so late.

Fixing your clothes and hair you started your way to your classroom...yet again.

You stop by your locker to get a binder full of notes and as you open your locker door you could have sworn you saw someone in the corner of your eye but when you look no one was there.

Creepy... you thought, that's the second creepy thing that happened to you today, fully opening your locker a letter falls out.

Am I cursed? does someone hate me? what if this letter is cursed or something?

Bending down to pick up this mysterious and creepy letter, you decided to ditch class you were really late anyway and its a miracle no hall monitor has caught you yet.

You pick the letter up and close the door to your locker and immediately ran to the nearest bathroom to hide in.

Everything that has happened today slowly leaves your mind as you look at the letter.

"Maybe it's a love letter? hmmm no but there's no signature on it," you thought as you move the letter around, it was just plain white with no stickers either.

"well I have to open right now," you thought out loud and open the letter gently and take out a piece of paper that was neatly folded inside.

Closing your eyes as you unravel the paper to expose the words written on it, you open your eyes and are met with a little disappointment, all it said was "meet me outside in the courtyard after school".

"This must be a confession but for me? really?"

The school bell rings to notify everyone that class is done and to head on to the next, getting out of the bathroom you head to your last class of the day all while trying to come up with an excuse on why you weren't at your last class.

But in the back of your mind, all you could think about was the letter and time just seemed to fly by you because before you knew it the class was over and Mei was asking if you wanted to stay the night and help her with her new invention. Listening to her ramble on about all her experiments and new ideas and plans she’s working on, you silently blurt out.

"I got a love letter" turning to finally look at Mei you could see the shock but that slowly fading away into a...

"WHAT!! when? where? today? do you know who it is??" all these questions were flung to you like a brick to the face.

"it says they want to meet me after school in the courtyard"

"well, what are you doing here with me? go! go! GO!" she says as she pushes you out of the classroom and into the courtyard and soon you reach the courtyard in mere minutes, she sits you down on your usual bench and bends down to whisper.

"don't worry, I'm gonna be just around the corner spying on you" after that she runs away and gets into position to watch the whole thing.

You quickly wait for the person behind the letter to come and you start getting nervous, this was your first love letter and you didn’t realize people still did this stuff, you’ve only seen it happen in movies….nowadays people just kinda ask you out. The wait seems like forever and the more you wait the more your mind wanders, what if...this was a sick joke? No it couldn’t be, the only person you really talk to is Mei and she wouldn’t do something like this.

While your mind continues to wonder you didn’t hear someone walk right up to you or the soft gasp from Mei around the corner.

“Ahem,” a sound breaking your train of thought, you bring your eyes up to the person behind the letter and your long-time crush Mirio.

Now at this point, your brain stopped working, why was he standing in front of you, there’s no way he wrote that letter.

“ Sorry to call you out on a Friday but I wanted to talk to you,” he says with his signature grin. Ah, you could stare into those eyes forever if you could.

You hear another “ahem” before realizing you were just staring at him for the past few seconds.

“ um yeah of course, what did you need to talk about…” this was so awkward it was gonna kill you, why is daydreaming about this stuff so much more fun but when it actually happens it’s super awkward. How are you supposed to act, for the love of god this has been your crush for three years!

“I think I should just get right to the chase um I like you y/n, would you consider going out with me?”

If you weren’t speechless before you sure as hell are now, did you hear right? Mirio likes you? And is asking you out on a date?

“Yes,” your mind went its own route and answered before you could even fully register what was happening ...thanks brain.

“ okay cool...um, I’ll pick you up at 5 pm tomorrow? Oh here’s my number! Great okay bye!” With that, he ran off to who knows where now leaving you in the dust but as quickly as he ran off, Mei ran even faster to you engulfing you in a big hug.

“ Ohh my god!!! Y/n!!!! Ahhh” it felt like Mei was more excited about this then you were or at least openly excited, you were so shocked at what just happened you didn’t know what to do or how to react but after kinda processing it, you smile softly to yourself and I guess Mei who is still hugging and screaming at you.

Wow, you got a date from your three-year crush and you didn’t even do anything, it all just fell into your lap and you were content with that.

“ well, I guess I better get ready for my date tomorrow huh… will you help me?”

Finally looking at Mei, she screamed again before getting up and dragging you to your dorm to help pick out an outfit.

Yeah, this was nice…..this was everything you ever dreamed of and more.

But little did you know this man was far from the Mirio you know and love.

[jchall110]

So ordinarily I would put something like this on my Twitter, as that’s kind of turned into my personal vent/diary platform as of recent, but this is going to be much longer than Twitter can allow, and I need to write this all out without losing my train of thought. It’s gonna go behind a Read More, and I’d like to request that you only read it if we’ve been mutuals for a while, and only if you really want to. I’m not expecting any response, hell I don’t want any responses, I just need to put my thoughts down somewhere, and if I put it in a Google doc or something I’m gonna come back to it later and dwell on it, but if I just put it somewhere and immediately delete it, I’m not going to be able to talk to my therapist about it on Monday. Anyway, content warnings abound, as I’m gonna be talking about depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide, covid-19, stalking, emotional abuse, and a pretty negative experience I had in a partial hospitalization program at a local mental institute. You’ve been warned. (Also for those of you who are new here, “ignore me” is my personal rant/vent tag, feel free to blacklist it to avoid seeing future posts like this)

So. Here’s a brief recap of the past year and a half in my life. Back in October of 2018, my best friend went through a very bad breakup with her emotionally abusive ex, while another of my friends was struggling very much with his mental health and attempted suicide. I was miserable working at Target and was gearing up to return to school in the Spring. I had also had feelings for the friend who went through the breakup, and she sort of had feelings for me, but she also had feelings for the other friend, and I had some vague kind-of feelings for the other friend as well, so in December we all decided “fuck it, let’s all date.” I won’t recap the full details of the relationship but it was a goddamn shitshow. His mental heath continued to deteriorate and he wasn’t seeking treatment for any of it, her mental health was extremely poor as well as a result of two years of emotional abuse and extreme codependency issues, and my mental health suffered greatly because of the expectations placed on me, as well as his frequent mood shifts where he would go from wanting to spend the rest of our lives together to, at one point, telling me things in an effort to get me to hurt or kill myself. Not a good situation by any measure. School was good, though, and the two classes I took last Spring were excellent, and I was ready to go back to school full-time in the Fall. Flash forward to September of 2019. My mental health is terrible, though my academics are very strong. I decide, after a few specific incidents, that I can’t be in the relationship with the both of them anymore and break up with him. A lot of bad things happened. She ended up leaving him as well. Then, about a month later, she left me as well and moved out of the state with someone she had met on OKCupid only a few weeks prior. At this point I need to take a medical leave of absence from school and move back in with my parents because I’m so depressed and traumatized that I can barely function. You see, since breaking up with him, he had been harassing me, even after I had attempted to get the police involved. He would call me, text me, make new Facebook accounts to send me message requests, anything to try to get in touch with me. So with all of this happening, and with me basically unable to do anything, I decide to look into a partial hospitalization program at a mental institution not far from where I live. Insurance covered most of it, my parents said they’d pay for the rest, so I started the program in early November. Ordinarily it’s only a three or four week program. I was there for at least 5. It was essentially a day program, so I would be there from 9 to 3 every day Monday to Friday. It was a really great program, except for a few things. Firstly, because it was a program both for mental health and addiction, a lot of the programming wasn’t really applicable to me, as the only thing that I’m addicted to is sugar, and I have no plans to break that habit. There’s a history of temporary psychosis caused by mind-altering substances in my family, and I don’t want to even find out if it applies to me as well. I barely even drink. So anyway, I was one of maybe three people who was there exclusively for mental health, so my options for programming were a bit limited, until a bunch of us complained about the repetitiveness of that aspect of the program and they switched things up a bit. Unfortunately it was at the tail end of my time in the program, so I didn’t exactly get much benefit from that. Secondly, and more importantly, close to the end of my time in the program, one of the mental health workers, a pre-doctoral intern who was running most of the “classes” that I was in, said a few things to me that were really frustrating and upsetting. Firstly she said that “ADHD doesn’t exist, it’s just a reaction to trauma. Too many kids are getting diagnosed with it when they just have regular attention issues, and in adults a diagnosis is almost always accompanied with trauma. And of course people are going to perform better when they’re on a stimulant.” Which. Is wrong on so many accounts. First of all, it’s overdiagnosed in the wrong people and massively underdiagnosed in the people who actually have it, especially young girls. And secondly, of course it’s paired with trauma when adults are diagnosed with it. They’ve had to deal with it for their entire lives up until then without knowing why they couldn’t do things the same way as everyone else, and there’s also a lot of trauma in general that comes with having ADHD considering how many people say “Oh, you’re just not trying hard enough” or “You’re just making excuses,” not to mention the self esteem issues that come with it. And thirdly, yeah people will perform better when on stimulants, but does taking a stimulant make everyone else tired? Cuz it does for me because it lets me slow down my brain enough to actually sleep. So yeah, that was fucked up. But the second thing she said was probably worse, and it didn’t actually occur to me how much this impacted me until earlier today when I realized something, but I’ll get to that realization soon. So it’s my second-to-last day in the program. I had gotten almost no sleep the previous night because I had a massive panic attack right before bed because my asswipe ex messaged me some really fucked up stuff. So I’m way out of it, and my ability to concentrate is pretty shit. I’m doing my best, though, and I’m paying attention to the discussion. We were talking about the parts of the brain and how they’re impacted by trauma. There were a few times during that day where I had forgotten words but still knew what I was talking about, and at least one of them had happened in front of this woman. So she asks “Does anybody know what the part of the brain is that connects the two hemispheres?” I say “Oh, I do” cuz I do know what it is, but for the life of me I can’t remember what the name is. (It’s the corpus callosum.) So she looks at me and says, out loud, in front of the entire group, “You know, it’s okay if we don’t know everything.” So I get all flustered and embarrassed and mad at myself because, in my ADHD people-pleaser brain, the teacher just failed me in front of the whole class and now they all hate me. So I don’t say a goddamn word for the rest of the day, and the next day I leave without saying goodbye to that one woman, after leaving a glowing review in the exit survey. So the thing about this that’s really fucked up is that like two days before, I sat down with her and told her how I have a lot of specific trauma around rejection and failure, especially relating to my dad and how he constantly asserts that I don’t try hard enough or that I need to do better, shit like that. Like, that was a major theme with me the whole time I was in the program. It was like, getting over the intense rejection of my best friend/girlfriend running away with a guy she just met, and my relationship with my dad. That was it. (Of the two, the one there that’s still a major thing in my life is my relationship with my dad. At this point, she can fuck off with whoever she wants. I’m more pissed at her than anything else now.) So for her to turn around and embarrass me in front of the entire group like that, when there was solid evidence that a) I did know what I was talking about and b) I was having a very off day was really messed up. In thinking about it, there was quite a few messed up things that she did in the last week or so that I was there. Probably more during the rest of my time there but I don’t actually remember most of it because working on your trauma can be traumatizing itself, go figure. Anyway, I had almost completely forgotten about that until earlier today when I was thinking about how I was getting much more sensitive to rejection and perceived failure recently than I was before all this had happened. Part of it is probably my increased estrogen dose fucking with my mood, but the majority of it, I think, stems from that one incident of her pretty much violating my trust and invalidating me in front of like twelve people that I really trusted and felt close with. Fucked me up, yo. Anyway, so I leave the program and start working for my dad at his machine shop. Things are going super well, I’m making a fair bit of money, keeping in touch with my friends as best I can, and doing my best to avoid my ex harassing me further. About midway through December I change my phone number so that he’ll stop calling me (he had several ways to get around me blocking his number), and in the middle of February I change my name on Facebook so he won’t be able to find me and send me more message requests, cuz there’s no way to stop that from happening either, and the police were useless because “I wasn’t in any physical danger.” At this point he had moved away from my town, presumably back with his parents but I don’t really know, and I really don’t care. So he messages my siblings on Facebook trying to get my phone number, and then somehow finds my Facebook again and sends me a picture of him cutting his wrist. So I get fed up, go to a local domestic violence prevention nonprofit, talk with one of their advocates, and file a restraining order against him. It gets approved, and the messages stop. A court date is set for us both to meet with a judge to discuss everything and see if it needs to stay in place or not or whatever, and for about 2 weeks everything is great. Then covid-19 starts hitting. I get what was probably just the flu or a cold or whatever a few days before the court date. Then the state that I live in announces that most court hearings are postponed until mid-April. I check on the website and find that stalking and domestic violence, among a few others, are exempt from this and will be going on as scheduled. Because I was recently sick, I call the courts the day before and ask if I can appear over the phone. They say yes, it’s all good, great. So the next morning I call in and things get moving. It turns out that my ex didn’t show up to the hearing, even though he definitely knew about it. So I talk with the judge for a few minutes and we decide that I don’t need the restraining order anymore because he’s not likely to start harassing me again, and if he does I can always get a new one or get the police involved. And so far I haven’t heard a peep from him so I’m assuming that chapter of my life is closed for good, which is excellent. But then more things start to close down, and my dad basically tells me that he doesn’t really need me at work and it’s best if I stay home. So since then I’ve been staying at home. It’s been 15 days total that I’ve been home, with only minimal trips to work for an hour here and there. And I really don’t do well with isolation. It’s not all bad, because I live with my parents, so I have some social contact, but as was mentioned above I don’t exactly get along with my dad, I don’t have a lot in common with my stepmom, and my grandmother is a grumpy old lady who isn’t very good for conversations about much else than knitting and Jeopardy. I’ve been doing my best to stay in touch with folks online, and it’s been decent, but it’s still pretty rough. And when Animal Crossing came out and all of my friends started playing it, I started feeling even worse because I’m poor as shit and don’t even have a Switch, and they’re fucking $400, which is a whole student loan payment for me. So I’ve been pretty miserable the past two weeks. To top it all off, I have to register for Fall classes next week, and I don’t think I can even imagine that far into the future right now. The world is supremely fucked, and there’s almost no way that I’ll even be able to afford to go back to school. I’ll probably have to drop out entirely. For at least a few years. And I’m really not ready to give up on school right now. Like I said above, I’m really sensitive to failure, and this is the third time I’ve tried, and failed, at college. And I’m getting real frustrated about it. The first time it was my ADHD, which at the time was undiagnosed. The second time it was mental health and my asshole ex harassing me. Now, when I finally have my ducks in a row, it’s money. The one thing that no amount of treatment or medication or court hearings will change. Plus there’s all the political bullshit going on still, and the impending collapse of society as we know it, and any number of other global crises (yes, that is the proper plural of crisis) going on. Oh, did I mention I’m an empath and the moods and emotions of the people around me, and of the world in general, pretty heavily impact me? I’ve been able to tell when some massive tragedy occurred even before the news story breaks. So yeah, all in all I’m doing about the worst I’ve been doing since high school before I was on antidepressants, and it’s really hard to see any end to this tunnel. I know I’m one in several hundred million people who are struggling right now, and I’m lucky that I’m at least moderately healthy with a steady place to stay and things to eat, but goddamn if things aren’t shit for me right now. Like I said, I’m not looking for any kind of response, and if you even read all of this I’m legitimately surprised. I just needed to put this all down somewhere because keeping it in is getting to be almost too much.

Don’t worry, friends. I promise you I’m safe. I’m just scared, lonely, and really lost right now.

I love you all.

[mrgrant9559-blog]

Safe Keeping: Prologue

A/N: Ayo, whats gucci? Yup, I’m back with a brand new fic! This one is Tony paired, which is a character I honestly thought I’d never write for, and yet here we are! Funny how things work, huh. I should include that Reader can fly and shoot basically energy blasts from his hands. So, pretty much Captain Marvel but not really Captain Marvel, ya know. Anyways, I’m hoping to be better with this fic than I am with Witch Way Is Right, as far as continuity goes. Btw, WWIR is still continuing!! It’s just I’ve been told by mutiple fic writers that in order to get rid of writer’s block, I should write something else. Hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Subject: Tony Stark x Male!Reader

Prompt: @trampledcactusboy - I am humbly requesting a something parter Tony one shot when you have the time too :) (like 2,3,4 however many parts you choose) I hope it can be in civil war time period so Tony's in that kind of mindset/feel and maybe reader can be a shield agent or hero who helped cap & friends escape but really agrees with Tony so he gets protective over him? if not you do you cuz you can never go wrong <3

Tags: @avengersohyeah @uselessace @writeyouin @trampledcactusboy @thegreatficmaster

_________________________________

You’d been with the Avengers for as long as you could remember. You’ve shared laughs, drinks, food, and a couple of moments along the way. So, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you realized what had become of you guys at this point. If someone would’ve told you 3 years ago that your team, THE Avengers, would split into two disagreeing sections over a stupid Sokovian accord, you would’ve taken a shit on their shoes and laughed in their face.

But now, it was almost like you were living a nightmare. No scratch that, you WERE living a nightmare. The same extraordinary people who you could call your brothers and sisters, were literally at each other’s throats.

You see Steve fighting a man dressed in red and blue spandex. And it looks like Steve is losing? You fly at Steve and swoop him up to the roof of the airport building and drop him off, landing in front of him to give the star spangled jolly rancher an ear full.

“What the hell are guys doing?!” You ask angrily.

“It’s long story, Y/N. And I really don’t have time for this.” He replies.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Steve. Almost like family.” I add. “So, imagine how I feel when I’m informed by SHIELD agents that not only are you and half of this so called family commiting treason, but you’re also protecting the man who killed King T’Chaka in cold blood!”

“I know it sounds crazy, but you’ve gotta believe me, kid. Buck is innocent. He’s being framed.”

“He tried to kill you and Fury just a year ago! If he’s willing to kill his best friend, brother in arms, then how am I supposed to believe that he wouldn’t to do the same to the now former king of Wakanda” I interject.

“That wasn’t him! You know as well as I do that he was under HYDRA’s control for years! He’s been trying to escape his past ever since and he’s been doing a great job so far!”

“Listen, I know Bucky is an innocent man, but what if the Winter Soldier comes out again. He’s a threat to others and himself!” I argue.

Steve sighs, realizing that what you’re saying is sorta true. “What if I can prove to you that Bucky didn’t kill anyone including the Wakanda’s king and that he’s innocent?”

“I don’t know Bucky well, but I do know he’s NOT innocent.” I say causing him to look down at his feet in disappointment. “However, if you have proof that he didn’t kill the king, then I’ll be willing to give him a second chance.” Steve looks up at me with a smile and nods in agreement. “Ok then, what do you need me to do?”

“Can you help us get to the quinjet? Take care of whoever gets in our way without causing permanent damage?” He asks.

“I can try.” You say before flying into the battle zone, making sure Steve and Bucky had a clear opening to the quinjet. You had to admit, these new people that Tony found were tough as nails. Definitely wasn’t their first time in a fight, but luckily, you were no rookie youself.

————————————

“Rhodes!!” You hear Tony yell in his suit while flying over to Rhodey’s aid. Rhodey was shot down by Vision, who was aiming for Sam. You tried to fly as fast as you could to catch him, following Tony and Sam in suit, but he had already hit the ground.

The sound. The sound his body had made when it made impact was haunting to say the least. Tony landed down next to Rhodey’s side and took off his helmet to examine the damage. He was unconscious with a bloody nose, which usually means that the person is either dead or damn near. Tony tells FRIDAY to read his vital organs. Thankfully, she replies by saying that there’s a heartbeat and that EMT are on their way.

Finally, Sam swoops in. “I’m sorry”, is all he could really say at the moment, even though he wasn’t entirely at fault. Tony didn’t care though as he raised his hand at Sam and blasted him, knocking him unconscious as well.

“Tony, you didn’t have to do that! It wasn’t his fault!” You say.

He moves his arm in you direction, his repulsors ready to fire. “Shut the hell up, Y/L/N! You’re just as in the wrong as him! I saw you helping Steve and Bucky back there. You’re supposed to be on MY side. You’re supposed to be MY friend!” He yells at you in anger, feeling betrayed and mostly hurt.

Your eyelids start to build up tears, as you find pain in what you’re about to say next. “Last I checked, we’re ALL supposed to be friends.” The look on Tony’s face tells you he was taken back by your words. “Look around you, Tones. Look at what’s become of us. We’re supposed to fight the enemy, not each other, and you know Bucky had nothing to do with the death of King T’Chaka.” Tony starts to lower his arm, which has now powered down.

Realization washes over him as he sees medics take Rhodey away on a stretcher in critical condition and the rest of Cap’s team get detained. The Wakandan Prince disappeared probably gone off to find Steve and Bucky. Tony knows Bucky couldn’t of been the one doing all these terrible things, at least not on purpose.

You and Tony finally arrive at a high max security prison in the middle of the ocean, where they were keeping the rest of Cap’s team for God knows how long. Tony walks over to each cell to talk to them about what they’ve done and how foolish they were being. Clint mostly, who retorted with his own words going back and forth with him. Tony then sees a new guy and wonders who he even is which punt a dent in the poor guy’s ego. He then walks over to Sam and asks if he’s been fed at all.

Sam just replies with snark, “Oh, so you’re good cop now?”

Regardless of what happened, Tony still cares for everyone and wants to make sure they’re at least being treated right. “I’m just the guy who need to know where Steve went.” He replies.

Sam tell hims that the only way he’s gonna get info outta him is if he goes full benny hanna on his ass. Tony starts messing with his watch, shutting off all coms in the prison system.

Tony tells Sam this, and he reveals to him everything he knows about where they could’ve gone. Tony rushes out of the cell block, with you following in suit. “Did you find out where they went?” You ask, following him to his private helicopter.

“Yup.”

“Great, I’m coming with you...”

“No, you’re not.” Tony retorts, spinning on his heel to face you.

“But I-“

“No, you don’t.” He interjects before you can finish your sentence. “What I need you to do is to stay here with the general and make sure he doesn’t send any of his people to follow me. I already told him I’m going back to the compound, but he might still suspect something.”

“Just, make sure you come back as friends. Last thing I wanna see is The Avengers break up over some dumbass accords.”

“I promise, we’ll all being sitting in front of a campfire singing Kum Ba Yah, and eating s’mores.” And with that, he enters the helicopter, on his way to help Cap and Buck find Zemo, so we could all be a team again.

Or at least thats how I hoped this day would end.

________________________

I’m so sorry for taking so long people! I’m a busy guy, but I knew I needed to out something out for you guys so here it is. This was pretty much my way of adding Reader into the movie without changing much. Also, I’m thinking of upload my fics to Wattspad. Should I do that?? I don’t know, but I hope you guys like this new fic!

[edgeofmyniall]

chapter 2

sorry for the delay, my excuse is the fact of who i am as a person.

I stare at the screen on my phone, my heart basically knocking on the door of its cavity. I don’t know what to think. Spending time alone in a secluded place with Niall by myself makes my brain spin. I don’t know him. I don’t even know myself. I just met him a few days ago, and we all know how well that went.

But I have to write this song with him.

Fuck me.

I send Niall, “Yeah that’s fine. Gotta get this song done. Send me the dets..” I convince myself I’ve seen one too many horror movies. He’s a good guy. He has to be, or no one would be dying to work with him.

Unless he’s killed them. Seriously Townes? Get your shit together. This isn’t the show You.

I sigh, putting my phone in the cup holder of my car. The light just turned green, and I’m already being honked at. LA is a pretentious bitch. People are always in a rush to get somewhere to do something. Never taking the time to enjoy the view they have before them. Forever busy bees zooming in their everyday lives, never stopping to smell the flowers. Their absolute existence is nothing but a blur. Like a photograph that was taken the moment the photographer moved. There was no clear part of their lives, only a foggy way of life.

I push the gas pedal of my old mustang as she skirts along the pavement. Not the ideal car my mom wanted me to have for my 16th birthday, but she’s been good to me. I feel like my car keeps me honest. With everything in life practically handed to me, I know that the only reason that I got this car was because I bought it with the money I saved up from the disaster that was my child modeling career. I drive through town, nearly being stopped at every red light until I reach my apartment. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t overlooking the ocean or in the heart of the city. It was a quaint one bedroom duplex building whose walls were too thin for comfort, but I didn’t mind it. My neighbor usually kept to herself unless she had a one night stand over. I could hear the bed frame hitting the wall during those nights, but those nights where few and far between. Most of the time I don’t think she was there. In all the years I’ve lived in my apartment, I think I might have said a mouthful to her.

The dark siding of the building is beginning to fade from the sun. I can see the fade marks from my car. I do my usual routine. Get out, check my mail, lock my car, and go inside. But as I touch the handle, I notice a chip missing from my door where my door hanger was. Some mother fucker jacked my wild flower wreath. I push the door open after unlocking when my phone buzzes. I take my phone out to see who is calling me.

Niall.

I slide my thumb over the screen and place it on my ear.

“Hello?!” my voice sounds agitated, as if Niall calling me is an utter inconvenience.

“Oh, um, hey,” Niall’s taken aback. “Look if you’re in the middle of something, I can call back, it’s no big deal.”

“No, it’s fine. I just got home and found out some punk ass teenager yanked my door hanger. What’s up?” I throw my purse, keys, bills, and junk mail on my couch. My apartment isn’t much, but it’s home. Holding my phone with my head and shoulder, I try slipping off my tan booties, but with no luck I nearly trip over my own feet. I curse under my breath, and I place a hand on my closed door and eventually slide off my shoe and then the other, tossing them over my couch.

“Ya sound busy, I’ll just call back.”

“I’m busy tripping over my feet is all. I can never get these shoes off without a fight.”

Awkward silence.

“Well, I was callin’ ya to see when you would like to start writing. I got some chords in my head that I keep strummin’, and I just tink that the sooner we get this done, the better. Ya free this weekend?” His question leaves me hanging. I have nothing to do this weekend. I had planned on burying myself in my couch and binge watching Netflix, and part of me wants to tell Niall that I’m preoccupied, that I can’t make it, but there’s this other part of me that remembers the way I felt when I saw his blue eyes the day we met. The day he left things between so….weird. I mean he left without even saying goodbye. Deep down, I wanted to know how Niall worked, and why he made me feel like a melting puddle.

“I’m free this weekend, pretty sure. The only thing I planned on doing is watching Netflix and writing. Or attempt to write.” I walk to my bedroom as I unzip my pants. There is nothing more soothing than getting into some comfy clothes after being out all day. I step out of my jeans and leave them laying on the floor. I should probably straighten up, but at this point if I’m going to be gone, why does it matter? I put Niall on speaker and pull my top off. I unhook my bra and pull a big t-shirt over my head.

“Okay that’s great, cuz I already booked our cabins.”

“Cabins?” I ask, my brow arching up.

“Didn’t tink ya wanted to sleep in the same room as me since we barely know each oder and all, so your cabin is right next to mine.” So I guess there’s no need to worry after all.

“Yeah, of course. Just text me the address and I’ll meet you there.” I want to hang up now. There’s nothing more annoying to me than talking on the phone.

“Well…” Niall’s voice cuts off. He sounds like he’s almost hiding something.

“Well what?” I sound annoyed again.

“I was tinking,” Niall starts again.

“We’re in danger then,” I crack a smile as I hear him laugh.

“I was tinking that I could pick ya up and we can drive up there together. Ya know, get to know each other better, save gas, save the planet…”

“How can I say no to saving the planet?”

“You can’t. You’d be a monster. Gonna go tell The Mail now.” I run my hand through my hair as I smile.

“I’ll text you my address. What time are you picking me up and how long are we gonna be gone? I have to put out enough food for the dog.” I start pacing around my room as I mindlessly twirl my hair around my fingers.

“9:30 Friday morning? That way we can get something to eat on the way up there. I dunno how long we’re gonna be up there. Just pack as much clothes ya think ya might need. Wait, you have a dog?” he sounds intrigued.

“Not exactly. I kinda found this puppy when I moved in, but I’m not allowed to have pets. I’ve fed him and brought him in when the weather has gotten bad, but I don’t own him.” My landlord doesn’t mind that I feed him, just as long as he doesn’t mess up the property.

“That’s cute.”

Again, awkward silence.

“Well, I better go. I have a lot to do, and so little time,” I awkwardly chuckle. I just want to get off the phone.

“Mhmm,” Niall doesn’t believe my lie, but he goes with it.

“See you in a couple of days,” I say, my thumb ready to end the call.

“So yer door hanger was stolen?” Niall asks, I can almost feel his cocky smile.

“Yeah, gotta go bye.” I push the red button, ceasing our talk. I sigh a big relief. Somehow talking to Niall on the phone made my chest tight. I had to think of every word I said; I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Sometimes my mind goes faster than my brain and I just end up word vomiting. I hate it, but when I’m talking to Niall or when I’m around him, it’s a hundred times worse.

And that is something I don’t like at all.

[gracetrack-higgins]

Secrets

welcome to my super angsty Sprace fic! it’s posted on Ao3 but I figured I’d put it here too! it’s pretty long (5k+ words!) and very angsty. I’ll put any warnings in the tags :)

*

You know Spot Conlon, right? I heard he’ll soak anyone who ain’t Brooklyn.

I heard he killed a gangsta’ who was botherin’ his Newsies.

I heard he got inta a fight wit’ a kid from the Bronx so bad the kid was laid up inna hospital for a month.

I’s heard he ain’t even real. Brooklyn kids made ‘im up so’s they look nice an’ tough.

Nah, he’s real. I saw ‘im on the Bridge one time, yellin’ at a scab or sommit.

Nuh-uh!

Yeah-huh!

I heard’s he’s a better pape’s sella’ than Jack.

Betta’ than anya us.

I heard he jumped inta the river to save a drownin’ kid!

That ain’t true!

I still don’t think he’s real.

Racetrack Higgins smirked to himself a little as he listened to the younger Newsies’ whispered speculations about the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. At one time, Race probably would’ve believed the tall tales surrounding Spot. If he didn’t know him, that is. Race thought it rather funny how many stories there were about Spot, ones that any kid would believe. Only two of ‘em were true so far.

Race glanced at the little Newsies huddled around an overturned crate that the boys used as a table in the Lodging House. They were playing cards, a watered down version of blackjack that Race had taught all the kids how to play on their days off. How he got stuck babysittin’ he’d never know, but here he was, 17 year old Racetrack, watchin’ a gaggle of little Newsies. The youngest of ‘em wasn’t older than 6.

“Mr. Racer!” the littlest Newsie piped up, his missing front teeth giving his smile a big gap as he grinned, “Do you know ‘bout Spot Conlon?”

Race smirked. “Sure I’s do.”

The little Newsies all gasped, edging closer to where Race sat on the beat up sofa in the common room of the boy’s floor in the lodging house.

“Really?” Another boy asked, “Have ya ever met ‘im?”

Race grinned. “Maybe.”

Gasps.

“An’ ya didn’t get soaked???”

“Nah.” he shrugged. “Me an’ Spot, we’s pals.”

“You’s lyin’,” A rather skeptical eight year old replied simply. “You’s just sayin’.”

Race looked offended. “Lyin’?? Me an’ Spot’s best friends! I sell in Brooklyn twice a week wit’ ‘im.”

Tiny Newsie jaws dropped.

“No way!”

Race took the cigar out of his mouth as he leaned forward and smiled at the boys. “Yes way.”

“You ain’t Brooklyn, though’s! Ya’s from Manhattan. Ain’tcha?”

Race nodded, “Sure am. We’s got a spec’al arrangement, is all.”

“What’s the ‘rangement, Mr. Racer?” the youngest boy asked, eyes wide.

“I ain’t givin’ away all my secrets,” Race smirked, “Just know that as long’s I’m ‘round, you kiddos ain’t gotta be too scared’a ol’ Spot Conlon.”

“You ain’t scared’a ‘im??” another boy asked and Race shook his head.

“Nah.” Race put the cigar back in his mouth.

The little boys minds buzzed with new theories and just a little bit of fear toward Race, who was apparently best pals with the scariest, toughest Newsie in all’a New York.

*

Race tossed a little cloth bag with coins in it at his best friend, silly grin on his face.

“Luck’s changin’, Spotty!” Race said excitedly, “There’s ya cut.”

Spot raised a brow and opened the little bag. “Woah. How many races ya win?”

“FOUR.” Race grinned, “Can ya believe it?? I could feel somethin’ in the air today. Somethin’ lucky.”

Spot snorted, starting up the stairs of the Brooklyn lodging house, Race following. “So how mucha that’s goin’ to settle ya debts from last week, eh?”

“‘Bout half. But that means I’s got plenty for next week’s bettin’!”

“Or ya could, I dunno. Save some? Get a hot meal? Some new clothes ‘o somethin’.” Spot suggested.

Race snorted. “I don’ need that. Just wait Spotty, one’a these days I’ll hit the jackpot an’ you an’ me, we’ll be set for life.”

Spot smirked a little. “You an’ me, eh?”

Race met his eyes. “Yeah.”

Spot nodded proudly. “Yeah.”

Race followed Spot through the familiar Brooklyn lodging house. He nodded in greeting to Hotshot, Bruises and Joey where they sat around a card table, reading headlines and eating something before heading out to sell the evening edition. Race knew the Brooklyn house about as well as he knew Manhattan’s. All the other Newsies knew him by name, he was welcomed in without a second thought, and everyone, everyone, in Brooklyn knew that if you messed with Racetrack Higgins, it meant you were messing directly with Spot Conlon. No one questioned that.

Race patiently waited as Spot checked in on the younger kids in his lodge, making sure they didn’t get into any trouble on the streets today, and as he checked on one of his kids who stayed in from selling due to a head-cold. For all the tall tales of how terrifying Spot Conlon was, Race was one of the few people other than the Brooklyn kids who saw Spot’s softer side. He was a protector, through and through. He’d protect those kids with his life, and Race found it incredibly endearing.

“Poor kiddo,” Spot muttered as he climbed the ladder to his room, a small but cozy attic space that he’d claimed when he took charge of the Brooklyn Newsies. Race followed him.

“Twigs is still sick?” Race asked. Poor kid was already tiny, hence his nickname, no wonder a head-cold put him out of commission for the day.

“Yeah.” Spot frowned. “Might have to dip inta’ them winnin’s an’ get that kid some tonic.”

Race shrugged. “Ain’t gotta slush-fund for that? Them’s your winnin’s.”

Spot glanced at the bag of coins in his hand, tossing it onto his bed. “We do, but I don’ mind helpin’ the lil kid out. He ain’t got no one else. None’a them do.”

Race nodded in understanding. “You’s a nice guy, Spotty.” he said with a smile, “I’ll neva’ understand how kids’ is scared ‘a you.”

Spot puffed his chest. “‘Cuz I’m scary.”

“No you ain’t,” Race said, sliding a hand over Spot’s muscled shoulder and resting his chin on top of Spot’s head. “You’s a sweetheart.”

Spot snorted and pushed Race off him, “Shuddap.”

Race smirked, flopping dramatically onto Spot’s bed, reaching out for Spot to join him.

Spot did, sitting down next to Race, letting him play with his hand.

“You oughta get back to Manhattan ‘fore the sun goes down,” Spot mentioned as the sunset shone through his window and gave the attic an orange tint. “‘s Gettin’ late.”

Race nodded. “I’d rather stay here wit’ you.”

“You an’ I both know you ain’t suppos’d ta.”

Race shrugged, resting his head on Spot’s strong shoulder.

“Yeah well,” he gave him a secret grin. “We both knows we do things we ain’t suppos’d ta.”

Spot laughed lightly. “Yeah.” he glanced around his room, the only place in all of Brooklyn where he was allowed to relax. It was an off limits area. None of the other Newsies were allowed anywhere near his room, let alone inside. There were only a handful of people who’d ever seen Spot’s room, and only one who’d ever been allowed repeat visits. Race knew it was a very high honor.

“Only in ‘ere though.”

Race nodded, almost sadly. Spot had a funny way of making him happy no matter what. He loved annoyin’ him, playin’ pranks, makin’ jokes, sharin’ stories, and sellin’ papes with him. But he loved lots of other things about Spot too. Like that he cared so much about his Newsies. That he took such good care of his friends. Little things too, like that he was allergic to pollen in the springtime. That he loved to read. That he loved animals. That he stood up for the little guy time and time again.

Race was really proud to be Spot’s friend.

And sometimes, when they were alone, more than his friend. Race traced one finger across Spot’s bicep, tracing over the faded scar on his shoulder and connecting the dots of his freckles.

“Yeah,” Race agreed, “Only in ‘ere.” He sighed, still lazily tracing Spot’s freckles. “Why do ya think I don’t wanna leave?”

Spot smirked a little, allowing himself a moment of softness to rest his cheek against Race’s head.

“‘Cuz you’s a sap.” Spot teased. “You oughta go back to Manhattan ‘fore I soak ya.”

Race grinned, his nose crinkling. “Then ya’s gonna miss me.”

Spot grinned back. “Only a lil bit.”

“Til I’m back in Brooklyn ta bug ya on Friday.”

“Too long.” Spot said, sliding his hand into Race’s gently.

“Now who’sa sap?” Race snickered, but laces his fingers through Spot’s, squeezing gently.

Spot squeezed back. “Still you.”

“Nahhh.” Race pecked a very careful kiss to Spot’s temple, just barely brushing his lips against his hairline.

Spot turned to face him, their eyes meeting and fighting unspoken feelings and buried fears. Their faces grew closer, Race’s forehead resting against Spot’s. Race smelled like newsprint and tobacco, two scents that Spot now associated with comfort and safety. He closed his eyes, relaxing, only opening them when Race parted their heads.

“You’s prob’ly right though,” he said softly, “I oughta go back ta Manhattan.”

Spot tried not to look disappointed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Race gave him a smile, squeezing his hand. “See you’s Friday?”

“Friday.” Spot gave Race’s hand one more squeeze before letting him go. Race took the cigar from his shirt’s pocket and stuck it in his mouth, giving Spot a smile before he started down the ladder to take him downstairs.

Spot sighed as the door to his attic closed behind Race and he flopped down against the creaky mattress of his bed. He hated this. He hated the way that Race made him feel, so safe and terrified at the same time. Spot Conlon wasn't really afraid of anyone or anything, but getting hurt by Race, or worse, Race getting hurt by him, was at the top of the list of his fears.

Sneaking around wasn't smart, and both of them knew it. Lying wasn't smart either. Especially when they were lying to each other. All the late nights and drunken kisses in the world wouldn't get either boy to admit they had feelings for one another, at least not out loud. Spot hoped that it was clear how he felt, and that their quiet moments and his careful signs of affection were enough for Race to know how much he meant to him.

They couldn't talk about it, not explicitly. They both knew that they couldn't be together, not truly, not anything more than the friends they already were. And if they talked about it, if Spot ever told Race how he felt; how his heart fluttered every time they touched, how his lips burned for hours after every time they’d kissed, how he'd stay up late thinking about him and them and their lives and their futures, Spot knew he'd be done for. If he talked about it, it'd be real. If they discussed it, they'd both realize they had no future, at least not one together.

Spot was afraid that when they faced their fate head on, the secrets in Spot’s bedroom would go away. And then Race would stop sellin’ in Brooklyn. And soon he'd stop going to Sheepshead. And Spot would be alone.

Spot sat up and looked out the window from the top of the Lodging house just in time to see Race waving his goodbyes to the other Brooklyn newsies as he started his trek back over the bridge. Before he left he looked up to Spot’s bedroom window, waving a little goodbye.

Spot didn't think Race could see it, but he waved back.

Race turned and walked back over the bridge all alone.

Spot sat back down on his bed, all alone.

*

Friday was a rainy day in New York City. It was summer, so the rain was expected, but dreaded. Rainy days were always slow sellin’ days. No one wanted to stop too long to buy papes when it’d just get soaked in a few minutes anyways. Newsies typically hid under awnings or building entrances to sell what they could, but usually gave up and went back home before the weather got too nasty. There’d be a new headline and more papes to sell tomorrow, when the sun was (hopefully) shining.

Friday was Race’s day to sell with Spot in Brooklyn. And even though it was already raining when he’d left that morning, he still made the long trek over the bridge and showed up at Brooklyn’s Newsie hub in time. He and Spot sold the few papes they’d bought, they were veterans at selling in bad weather, and then retired to the Brooklyn Lodging house for the rest of the afternoon. They spent the rest of the day playing cards and checkers and taking turns keeping the peace, as there were too many young newsies hanging around in boredom.

It was getting late and the weather was worsening. Race was deeply involved in a game of blackjack between a handful of the older Brooklyn newsies, determined to win for the third game in a row. Spot had been checking on the kids, making sure no one was doing anything stupid, and that the younger ones had all eaten, before he joined in on the card game.

“Ay,” Hotshot asked, “What time is it? Shouldn’t this crook be headin’ back ta Manhattan?” Hotshot elbowed Race, who snorted.

“You’s just bitter cuz I wiped ya pockets for the third time tonight.” Race teased. He looked to Spot, who glanced up from his cards.

“It is pretty late,” he admitted, “But the weather’s awful. You wanna just stay the night, Racer?”

Race raised a brow. “I really oughta go back, Jack’ll be worried sick.”

“Psshh,” Spot waved a hand. “Kelly’ll be fine a single night without ya. You don’t wanna get pneumonia or nothin’, do ya?”

Race shrugged. “I ain’t gonna get sick,” Race said simply, setting down another card. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“You’s gonna get a different kinda soaked if ya try an’ cross the bridge in this storm.” Spot told him. Thunder crashed outside and Spot was the only one who saw Race flinch at the loud sound. He narrowed his eyes a little bit.

“You’s stayin’.” Spot said firmly, making it clear there was no room for argument.

“You want us ta make room for ‘im?” Hotshot asked, “We can kick ol’ Bruises ta the floor for the night.”

“Hey!” Bruises protested, punching Hotshot in the arm.

“Nah,” Spot brushed them off. He didn’t look up from his cards. “He’ll bunk wit’ me.”

Race felt his chest growing warm with pride.

“Whateva’ you says, boss.” Hotshot said, going back to the game. No one said anything else about it.

After their game, which Race won easily, Spot made his final nightly rounds throughout the busy lodging house. He checked on the younger kids, making sure they were going to sleep and weren’t getting into mischief. He made sure that Twigs, the little newsie who was still fighting off a cold, had enough blankets and had eaten something that evening.

Race followed Spot on his rounds, admiring how gentle but firm Spot was with the younger kids. He seemed way older than his 18 years as he cared for the kids, lifting them into their bunks and gently assuring them that they’d be back to selling papes in the morning. Race tried not to smile as he watched Spot checking Twigs’ temperature with the back of his hand, putting another ratty blanket over the little boy’s shivering form. Race also noticed that Spot had bought tonic for him, and it was sitting next to the cot the little kid was curled up on.

“He’ll be okay,” Spot said as he left the younger kids’ room, “He’s a tough little kid.”

Race had a feeling that Spot was saying it for his own benefit than anyone else’s.

Spot sighed as he closed the door to his room as Race climbed up after him, turning on the small gas-lamp in the corner so they could see.

“He’s gonna be fine, Spotty,” Race tried to encourage, “Don’t worry. You got him some tonic an’ everythin’. I’m sure he’ll beat it.”

“Yeah.” Spot said, taking off his newsie cap and tossing it onto an overturned crate. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

Race took his cap off too, tossing it next to Spot’s before he sat down on Spot’s bunk.

“You’s sure ‘bout me stayin’ the night?” Race asked, and Spot nodded.

“Yeah. I’d rather know you’s safe an’ dry, here. ‘Stead’a bein’ wet an’ catchin’ cold in Manhattan.” Spot said simply, sitting down next to Race on the bed. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Race nodded. Lightning crackled across the sky and thunder echoed so loud that it made the attic walls quake a little. Race jumped at the sound, groaning a little in embarrassment. Spot looked him over curiously.

“You okay, Race?”

“Mmhm.” Race avoided Spot’s eyes.

“No you ain’t.” he frowned. “You don’t like the storms?”

“Nah.” Race shrugged. “It’s dumb. Don’ worry ‘bout it.” He tugged off his over shirt and pulled off the suspenders he wore so he was in his pants and undershirt. “Can we go to bed now?”

Spot nodded, taking off his suspenders and shirt as well. He turned off the lamp so the room was lit only by the lightning cracks and faded moonlight through the rolling dark clouds. Spot climbed into the bed, which was probably too small for both of them, but they didn’t care, immediately getting comfortable next to one another. There wasn’t any awkwardness. Both boys were used to sharing their bed, and neither of them could think of anyone they’d rather share with than each other. They each respectfully maintained a small amount of distance between them, but Race’s hand reached carefully for Spot’s as another loud crash of thunder made his skin crawl. Spot gently took his hand.

Race gave him a smile in the dark, but Spot’s eyes had already adjusted so he could see the little grin.

“Tell me a secret,” Race whispered.

Spot smirked. He’d joked once that Race was the only one who knew his secrets, and now Race held that title very proudly, but privately.

“Like what?” Spot asked flatly. He noticed in the back of his head that his hand was still holding Race’s, and Race squeezed tight when another crash of thunder echoed outside.

“Anythin’. Tell me why ya didn’t let me go back to Manhattan tonight.” Race’s voice was tight, and Spot could tell he was trying to distract himself. He opted for honesty to answer Race’s question.

“You’d get sick.”

“You don’ know that. I’s got great health.”

“People what get soakin’ wet an’ don’t own enough clothes ta get dry is only gonna get sick. I...I’s seen it lotsa times.”

“You’s gotten sick from a rainstorm?” Race asked, and Spot shook his head a little.

“Nah.” his voice was quiet. “A kid in the house did, few years back.” Spot hesitated, deciding whether or not he wanted to finish. “He was little, like Twigs is. He got pneumonia real bad, an’ by the time I got ‘im to a nurse, it was too late for ‘im.”

“Oh.” Race said softly, feeling his chest ache with sorrow. “I...I’m sorry, Spotty. I didn’t realize. I wasn’t meanin’ ta joke ‘bout it.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s fine. I just know I ain’t gonna let no more kids get sick if I can help it.” he said simply. “Ain’t worth it.”

“You’s right. It ain’t.”

They were quiet again, another crash of thunder making the walls shake. Race jumped again, letting out a shaky sigh.

“That an’ I’d miss ya.” Spot said lightly, and Race gave him a little smile. He was grateful to Spot for trying to distract him.

“You’d miss me?” Race teased, and Spot snorted.

“‘Course, dumbass.”

“Why’s that?” Race asked, his tone light but intent serious.

“Tuesday’s a long way from now. ‘Sides, we’s pals.”

“Pals.” Race said softly, nodding. He subconsciously let go of Spot’s hand, but Spot grabbed it back.

“Yeah.” he held Race’s hand tight in his.

Spot wanted to elaborate. He really did. But he wasn’t even sure what this was. What they were. They were pape-sellin’-partners, and best friends, but past that? Spot had no idea. He didn’t think boyfriends was the right word for it. He didn’t think there was a right word for it. Especially when nothing about it was right.

“Your turn,” Spot said, changing the subject. “Tell me a secret.”

“I ain’t got any secrets,” Race said lightly.

“Sure ya do.”

“You know pretty much all’a ‘em.” Race admitted. He was a pretty open book when he found people he trusted, and he trusted Spot more than anyone else he’d ever met. He loved times like this, when it was just them, and nothin’ else. He loved learning new things about his best friend. He loved knowing things about him that no one else did.

“So why’s you scared’a thunder?” Spot asked, catching Race a little off guard.

“I don’t like storms.” Race said quickly. He sighed a little. “I hate ‘em,” Race said softly, “They’s so loud. I just wanna sleep but they’s loud, so’s I can’t.”

“Guess they is pretty loud,” Spot admitted. “I didn’t realize it bothered ya.”

Race shrugged a little. “Neva’ liked ‘em.” he admitted. “Bad mem’ries.”

“Yeah?” Spot wanted to know what sort of memories could be attached to rain, but he didn’t want to make Race uncomfortable so he didn’t push it.

“Yeah.”

The room lit up around them with a lightning strike that was too close for Race to be comfortable and when the crack exploded into the loudest thunder crash yet, Race practically lept from the bed. He cursed under his breath, angry at himself for being upset, and even angrier at the memories of lightning, smoke and flames that filled his head and refused to leave. The same memories that woke him up when fire sirens blared all night long in the city. The same memories that plagued him every single thunderstorm filled summer since he was a kid.

“Hey, it’s okay Racer, it’ll pass.” Spot offered, but Race paced back and forth across the room, trying to calm down.

“‘S so dumb.” he muttered under his breath.

Spot stood and took Race by the hands, leading him back to the bed. They sat next to each other, Race’s shaking hands still in Spot’s strong ones.

“Whadda ya do in Manhattan when it’s stormin’?” Spot asked.

“Dunno. Try ta sleep, walk ‘round an’ try not to wake up the boys, hide ‘til it’s done. I can’t smoke inside, so I don’t get ta calm down as much as I wanna.” he frowned, leaning his face into Spot’s shoulder. “‘m sorry. ‘S stupid.”

“No it ain’t.” Spot assured him. He put one hand gently on Race’s back. “Whadda ya want me to do? How can I’s help?”

Race leaned into Spot closer as another flash of lightning lit up the room. Spot’s strong arm held Race tight.

“I’s fine,” Race told him after a moment. “Being with you’s already helpin’.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I know you’s got my back. I’m safe.”

Spot smiled a little, leaning into Race comfortably.

“I don’t think no one feels too safe ‘round me.” Spot admitted quietly. “I’s got a reputat’on, ya know.”

Race smiled, feeling his fears slowly fading the longer Spot held onto him.

“Well, I know I’m safe.” Race told him, “Ain’t a doubt in my mind you’s lookin’ out for me.”

Spot wasn’t thinking as he pressed a very small kiss to Race’s forehead.

“You know I is.”

*

Race left the Brooklyn lodging house early that morning, before the sun was even up. The storm was long gone, only puddles remained as a memory of the pounding rain and cracking lightning from the night before. Race wished his heart didn’t ache every time he made the walk over the bridge to go back into Lower Manhattan. He wished he didn’t feel the way he did. He also didn’t regret it. He held the secrets and reassurances from that night with him, hiding them in his heart for later as he started to walk back.

When Spot woke up just as the sun began to rise, he instantly noticed that Race was gone. For a second he wondered if he’d dreamt the whole thing, but he quickly noticed that where their hats had been sitting last night on the overturned crate next to his bed, a cigar remained instead. Spot picked it up, letting himself smile a little before he pulled on his shirt and suspenders and got ready to start the day.

*

Race reached the Manhattan Lodging house just as the sun was coming up. He opened the door and started up the stairs, searching his pocket for his key when the door opened and Jack Kelly bumped directly into him.

“Racer!” Jack exclaimed, “For the love of Pete, where were ya??” Jack hit Race with his hat, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“Geez Mom, good mornin’ to ya too.” Race teased. “Stayed the night in Brooklyn ‘cuz ‘a the storm.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You’s okay? Storm was pretty bad.” Other than Spot, Jack was the only person who knew how Race felt during thunderstorms. He’d been worried about him all night as he listened to the thunder rolling and rain pelting the city.

“I’m fine,” Race assured him. “But starvin’. We got any food?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jack pulled Race through the door. “Come on.”

Race was greeted by the other boys the second he walked through the door, immediately peppered with whoops, hollers and questions.

“Where were ya??” Albert asked, “You had Jackie all worried ‘bout ya.”

“Poor Mom didn’t know what to do with ya lost in Brooklyn.” Romeo teased, elbowing Jack, who rolled his eyes.

“We was ready ta send out the search party!” Elmer added.

The littler Newsies chased one another around the small kitchen until Albert shouted for them to scram. A few lingered though, surprised to see Race.

“Where’d ya go Mr. Racer?” one of the younger Newsies asked. Race snorted.

“Got caught in the rain, so I’s stayed in Brooklyn for the night.” He explained simply.

“An’ ya didn’t get soaked by them Brooklyn boys?” A kid asked, and Race laughed.

“‘Course not.”

“Where’d ya stay?” Crutchie asked, handing Race a plate with toast and half an apple on it.

“Thanks,” Race said as he started to eat. “Stayed at the Brooklyn boys’ lodgin’ house. It’s nicer ‘n ours is.” he joked, mouth full.

“You stayed there?” one of the younger kids asked.

“Yep.”

“Spot Conlon let you stay with his boys?” Another little kid asked, wide eyed.

Race flicked a piece of his crust at the kid, hitting him in the forehead. “Yeah, he did. No big thing.”

“Wow.” the kid gaped. “Why didn’t he beat ya up??”  he asked.

“‘Cuz we’s friends.” Race said simply.

The kid turned to his friend next to him. “So why’d you beat me up?” he asked, poking at his own healing black eye.

“Cuz you’s a dummy!!” his friend shouted, and the two lightly brawled until Jack kicked them out of the kitchen.

“Enough, ya knuckleheads.” he shook his head. “Go get yerselves lookin’ presentable or no one’ll wanna buy from ya today.”

The boys obeyed and ran up the stairs, leaving the older boys in the kitchen.

“You really stayed with Spot last night?” Elmer asked, a little surprised.

Race bit into his apple half. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Just curious.” Elmer said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“He ain’t the friendliest kid in the city,” Crutchie said, and Race gave him a grin.

“He’s friendly ta me.”

“You’s lucky.” Albert commented. “He’d prob’ly soak any’a us on sight for invadin’ his territory.”

Race snorted. “Nah, he ain’t so bad.”

“Sure he is.” Elmer said, “You’s heard the stories, ain’t ya?”

“Sure,” Race shrugged, “But that don’t mean they’s true.”

Jack didn’t comment, watching Race carefully. He’d been worried sick about his friend, knowing just how he felt when bad lightning storms hit, and was ready to go out in the middle of the storm to find him until Crutchie stopped him from doin’ anything dumb. He was relieved that Race was okay, and more relieved that he was indoors and not hidin’ out under the bridge or nothin’. But now Jack was curious. Race had been spending more and more time in Brooklyn lately, a lot more than his occasional excursion to the Sheepshead Races he’d take after a particularly good headline dropped and filled his pockets with extra cash. Jack had never commented on it, a little wary of questioning anything Spot Conlon did, even if it included friendship with one of his boys. Jack wouldn’t necessarily consider Spot a friend, more of a reluctant ally. He came through for them during the strike last year, and now he an’ Race were friends, which meant Manhattan an’ Brooklyn stayed allies. But that didn’t mean Jack wasn’t skeptical of Spot and his intentions with his friend.

“Alright ya slackers,” Jack interrupted, brushing Race off his perch on the kitchen counter, “Let’s get to work. Ya can bug Race ‘bout Brooklyn later.”

Race smirked and finished his apple half in one more bite, spitting the seeds onto his plate and putting it in the getting-rather-full sink.

“Let’s hope we’s got a good headline today,” Race commented as he followed Jack from the kitchen to round up the boys and head to Newsies Square. Jack fell back to walk with Race on the way over to the square.

“Ay, you sure you’s aight Racer?” he asked gently and Race gave him a toothy grin through the cigar between his teeth.

“‘Course I am, Jackie. Why?”

Jack gave him a look. They both knew why.

“I mean it,” Race insisted. “I’m a’ight. Spot was real nice to let me stay wit’ ‘im last night. I even was able to sleep.”

“Ya were?” Jack was impressed.

“Yeah.” the corners of Race’s lips were tempted to tug into a smile but he forced his expression to remain neutral. “I was.”

Jack watched him curiously. “Good.” he said, “I’m glad Spot was nice to ‘ya.” he chose his words carefully, observing Race’s reaction.

This time Race couldn’t hide his little smile. Jack tried to place where he’d seen the look in Race’s eyes before and it took him a minute to figure it out. The way Race’s eyes lit up when he talked about Spot Conlon was the exact same way Katherine’s eyes lit up when he brought her flowers at work last week. It was the same look she gave him when he made her dinner at her apartment, and the same look he was sure he gave her when she’d show him her articles to read before anyone else did, or got excited about his latest drawings.

Love.

Racetrack nodded. “Yeah, me too. He’s a good pal.” he fought the little smile away.

Jack wasn’t sure how anyone could feel anything other than respect and healthy fear for Spot Conlon, but he was pretty sure that whatever Race was feeling, it was more than that. Jack took a second to process that, wondering if he was jumping to conclusions or if he was right. He knew Race pretty well, and he could tell how much happier he was after spending the day in Brooklyn. Jack’s stomach hurt with a pang of sadness, knowing that as happy as Spot seemed to make him, he and Race could never really do anything about it. Race’s life was hard enough as it was, this would only make it harder. Spot Conlon was a dangerous kid, but being in love with him was far more dangerous. Especially Race being in love with him. Jack tried to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t protect Race from this, but he’d be there for him if he got hurt.

“I’m glad he’s your pal,” Jack settled on saying, and Race nodded.

“Yeah.” he looked down at his boots as they walked.

That’s all he’ll ever be.

*

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12941445  ao3 link :)

[violetbeachpod]

TRANSCRIPT: 6 - Memories

backstreets back alright

Okay. Here we go. Gotta knock this one out, and then it’ll be done. It’ll be over, and it’ll be done, and, and, and.

Elaine here. My turn.

Look, I’m not--

I don’t know if I can give anything productive to this conversation, just. I’m--I don’t want to be a part of this, I don’t feel like I’m a part of this. I don’t feel like I’m a part of anything, necessarily, I’m.

I’m a background player. That’s all. And I don’t mind it! I’m--I like it. Prefer it, honestly, to this, to this--sci-fi bullshit, AJ called it, when he dropped by yesterday. He--he needed a vent session. He called it a salt sesh, which--no. I won’t do that. Maybe it was ironic? But he wanted a vent sesh. And his family doesn’t really “do” “those.” And he’s a sweet kid. He deserves a vent sesh.

Can I pull off sesh?

But anyway. I prefer not doing anything to sci-fi bullshit. And I haven’t--It was never really my thing, I was more of a sitcom girl. Like, good ones, obviously, but.

And then, I’m--I’m living in this, which is ridiculous, and--

Teresa’s back. That’s important to say. Just cuz--it happened an hour ago, I’m not sure if all of you know. Well. You’ll know by the time I put this in the folder, but. It’s important that I share what we know now, right? That’s--that’s how storytelling works.

Teresa woke up in her bed this morning. I was on my way back from work, and she called me, just cuz--we saw this stuff first, we kinda. We bonded over that, in the beginning.

And she asked me if I noticed that the sky was blue, rather than the normal olor.

I said, Teresa, you’ve been gone for two weeks, no one’s been able to find you, the sky is always blue, y’know, I went through the motions. Told her everything that’s happened since she went away. Angie had a class this morning, so she doesn’t know yet.

And Teresa is just--she’s insistent that I’m lying to her, that Angie or someone is just playing a joke, and she says that, no, she--that’s how the town got its name, Elaine, our sky is weird. Because of the circle.

I know you’re new here, she says, but come on. This is, like, pre-moving here stuff.

And I--I didn’t know how to react, so I just repeated, I said, she’s been gone for two weeks, and that we’re all so worried. That we’ve all been losing our minds looking for her, that--

[Sigh]

And Douglas is sitting on my lap right now and he’s my only hope for some sense of grounding in this life. Yes you are. Yes you are the only thing holding me back from going into panic.

He’s a sweet boy. The sweetest boy. If Teresa weren’t allergic, I’d bring him over, but--no.

I’m concerned, is the thing. I know--I don’t know these people as well as Rob might, but I’m still concerned.

I’ve been doing some digging, on--on the town’s history, this morning. Wikipediaing, and what have you.

I can’t find anything. I just—I can’t. It’s. All I can find is Facebook groups for, like, yard sales and swap meets and support groups—and I’m gonna go to the swap meets, don’t get me wrong, but they’re just—they’re not important to the cause at hand.

When I was at boarding school, my sophomore year roommate would always go on these deep mystery-solving dives—there was a still unsolved murder that took place on campus thirty-something years ago, and she dedicated herself to ending it. And—

And we’re not friends, or anything, so I can’t, like, reach out, say, hey, girl, it’s me, from high school, uh, I’m being haunted by a ghost maybe, and there’s also time travel, no big, so—how’s med school? Y’know? Can’t do that, that’ll—that’ll make me seem crazy. I’m not in contact with anyone, from back then. It wasn’t, like—not for a lack of trying, I just. Everyone else was closer, I sorta fell out.

But that’s not relevant to the point at hand, which is that Teresa, who is a friend of mine, who’s a smart kid, who’s back, is convinced that the world is wrong.

And I don’t think that the world is wrong. I think—well, maybe I’m the crazy one, maybe I’m the one who’s misremembering the sky, maybe I’m the one who’s gone, but. Look. Listen. I—I don’t know what’s going on. I really, honestly, never have. Like, for my whole life. I’m smart, sure, but I—not in the way where I know other people’s experiences. In the way where I know my own. Where I know how to navigate my life. Not the kind of smart where I can handle weird sci-fi bullshit. Y’know? I’ve secondhand watched a lot of sci-fi, and I. Do not care for it. In the slightest. At all.

Which is, like, sacrilege, in this group. I like fantasy, usually, it’s just—never been huge on sci-fi, ‘cept for the big stuff. Star Wars, etcetera. It’s just not my thing. Is it a crime? No. It isn’t. Please stop trying.

So, here’s the thing about boarding school murders—cuz that’s where my brain keeps going, with this, because that’s the closest thing I have to mystery hunting in the past. Because I did help, yeah. I—I didn’t have many friends, okay, I was new, I was shy, I didn’t do sports or anything, like—I needed friends, and I had this opportunity, so. I stole a video camera from my film class and I helped make a documentary. Look. They can’t get me for it now, I have a masters. So.

We would sneak out into the woods out by the dorms and we’d just—we’d film recreations of the murder. A student killed her—well, we figured out that it was just her friend, but my roommate thought it might have been either an athletic rival or a romantic partner--which I shut down fast, like, look, I am all about gay people doing things, unless they are murder.

And we’d do this every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night, around three AM. I didn’t sleep much at age sixteen. I don’t sleep much at age twenty-five, even, but, like—I get more, now. So that’s really good. But irrelevant. And my roommate, whose name was Janice Potter, she was from Georgia and she hated that about herself, and—like, sure, cool, whatever, one Tuesday night, when I was busy building sets for the musical, she went out by herself, with the camera, and—I was walking back to the dorm, and I saw her lying in the woods with a broken leg. And I—I brought her to the infirmary, said she fell while taking pictures of the set build for the newspaper. She wasn’t even in newspaper, we—we barely had a newspaper. But the nurses didn’t care, they just needed to tell her mother something.

And the next morning, she didn’t remember going out. I think it was trauma, or something, but I had to go to the hospital with her, because I could recall events and nobody else could. It wasn’t great, and I had to lie a bunch to doctors, which I think is a crime, maybe, which—like, the amount of time that it took me to get that social energy back was—maybe eighty seven years. I’m still getting that back.

But that’s what I keep coming back to, that night in the hospital, when I just stopped giving a shit about the murder, about the mystery, and I just started caring about the people. That’s where I’m at, with this.

I don’t care about some government conspiracy, or alien invasion, or—parallel universe, or—

Wait, yeah, that’s it. there’s some parallel universe shit happening. There we go, proof that you find things as soon as you stop looking. I am basically unstoppable, and, guess what? I’m never gonna die.

But that’s not the point. Whichever one of you all wants to figure out the semantics, feel free, but. I’m not caught up on that.

Here’s the point: Teresa is alive, and she’s back, and we need to take care of that first. We can focus on the parallel universe, which--look, I’m too excited about this not to share. But you guys have to prove it. Cuz I’m not doing that.

Look, so, we’re talking--

[there’s just static. there are syllables, sure, things close to words, but there aren’t words like there were before. there’s just this static.]

I’m assuming that got cut out, like--like Benji got cut off, like AJ got interrupted. But, hey, I--I got it. I’ll email you.

I’m gonna head over to the dorms, bring Rob with me—she’s asleep right now, but I’m—I’ll wake you up in a sec. You’ll hear the in retrospect, like, oh, that’s why my beautiful future-wife who I love was so happy even though a friend of ours may or may not be an amnesiac. God, you’ll think, I love her. I’ll make you coffee so you don’t hate me when you wake up, but—you’ll get it in the future.

I know it’s scary, right now. But we got this, I feel like it for the first time, like there’s relief, rather than dread or worry or aliens in my brain on loop, it’s—

We’ve got this.

Here’s my wrap up. Because we all do these, I guess. Some words.

There’s something terrible in trying to solve a mystery, there’s something—I don’t know. It feels wrong, to be solving a mystery you’re not supposed to. For example, Janice Potter isn’t on Facebook. I’m not going to try and figure out why. I don’t want to know what I don’t need to know, I want to know that people are safe and good and—and not being abducted into parallel universes or whatever we’re calling it.

There’s something perfect in actually solving a mystery, there’s something—

You know how it is. I’m not gonna get all literary. That’s Rob’s job.

Just got a text from Angie with “SHE’S BACK” in all caps, with seventeen heart emojis. It’s very sweet, very nice, very good. It’s cute. That’s what this is worth, that’s—that’s what’s worth celebrating. Benji’s already responded, so’s Charlotte, and—

This is the light at the end of the tunnel. Let’s get out of it.

Okay, that’s bad, that’s clichéd. I can do a better closer than that. We need a better one-liner than that. I can’t come up with a good one, but--I want you all to know that I can do better and I will do better in the future with any and all one liners. I’ll probably come up with twenty as I drive to the dorms, so, uh, venmo me if you want one. Please. I do need payment for my non-sequitirs.

Cool.

Love you, bye.

[thecreativeangel]

Protector (Peter Parker x Reader)

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You’d never thought of Peter as the kind to starts fights at school but here he was, sitting beside you on the cold floor of a supply closet, bleeding and bruised.

Warnings: Blood, violence (a fight, basically), Sad!Peter. 

Word Count: 2,236

You were picked up your textbooks and notebooks, hugging them to your chest and walked briskly out of the classroom. It had been a long and terribly boring school day, as most school days were at the end of the year. The popular guys were pissing off the teachers and talking loudly, the more fashionable girls were Snap-chatting in class, and the teachers were fed up with everyone but still sane enough to give out detention slips. You balanced your binders on your knee while trying to open your locker as quickly as possible, eager to get on the bus to go home. It was Friday, and school was ending next week, much to everyone’s relief. A text from Peter just minutes before had left you in good spirits; he asked to come over like always for a Friday night movie marathon with Michelle and Ned, set with popcorn, ice cream and junk food of every kind. Stuffing things into your backpack and slamming the locker shut, you started down the hallway. The loud chatter from other students passing you gradually got more quiet as people in the very front of the school grew deadly still and began to crowd around something, blocking the entire hall. Whispers and muttering broke out, students everywhere desperate to get to the front where pushing and shoving your small form. Suddenly, a loud, collective gasp came from somewhere in front, followed by laughter and something being banged against what could only be a locker. You huffed loudly, just wanting to get to the buses until-

“Parker, Parker, Parker…” The students in the front chanted, jeering even louder now. Your eyes widened and the breath left your lungs. You shoved people aside, ignoring their grumbles and cursing to break into the inner circle. Another loud metal bang echoed, almost drowned by the loud laughter. Charging through row after row of high schoolers, you ignored the sharp jabs to your stomach from different restless kids. Maybe it isn’t him. You think, already knowing the answer. C’mon Peter, please don’t tell me it’s you out there. Reaching the inner circle, you desperately tried to squeeze between the line of tall guys that stood in front. You duck down, finding a little crack between the wall of jocks to look though. Sure enough, Peter’s beat up sneakers were just visible as he was pushed backwards against the line of lockers.

“How’s that Parker?” Flash Thompson’s voice rang out, angry and arrogant. “Wanted to taste the floor today, didn’t ya?” You hear Peter groan loudly, probably attempting to fight back.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Ned yelled, also trying to help his friend.

“Let me handle this Ned.” Michelle warned, and you calm down a bit. Michelle could help- she was very scary when needed. “Wait ‘till I get my hands on that son of a bitch.”

“What are you going to do?” One of Flash’s friends taunted. “Bore us to death with some nerd science?” Michelle snarled, losing her cool. Poor Ned had to grab both her wrists to hold her back.

“Hey Parker,” Flash announced, lifting Peter off the ground by the hem of his t-shirt. “Why are you so annoying, eh Parker?”

“A-all I did was tell you to s-shut up.” Peter retaliated, squirming. “Not my fault you have the temper of a bull with anger issues.” Flash grabbed Peter’s hair and slammed his head against the lockers. This made anger boiled in you like hot lava, making your head fill with thoughts of how to brutally murder Flash. You pushed even harder against the blockade Flash’s friends made, only managing to kick them in the heel. Fuck that. You think, absolutely enraged. The teachers just had to be in a meeting right now.

“Puny Parker,” Flash teased, cruel and unforgiving. “No wonder you hang out with the losers. D’you really think the Liz Allan would go out with you? Good thing you gave up on that, right? How does it feel to be such an epic loser that you hang around them!” He pointed to Ned restraining Michelle.

“And that other weird girl, what’s her name?” Flash asks. “Bet she only hangs around you ‘cuz she feels sorry for your ugly ass!”

“Leave them out of this! Leave her alone!” Peter yells, swinging his arms to punch Flash.

“Aww, does Puny Parker have a new crush?” Flash cooed, fake pouting. “Gonna go home and cry to your aunt and uncle? Oh wait-you can’t ‘cuz your uncle’s dead. Probably killed himself when he saw what a little bitch he had as a nephew-”

“ENOUGH!” You roared, finally forcing your way past Flash’s ogre friends. Stomping over to him, you let the backpack fall to the floor with a ‘thud’. The students became silent, watching the scene that was unraveling before them. Flash was so shocked he dropped Peter, who slumped against the lockers. You rush to him and drop to your knees, taking his face in your hands and inspecting it. Peter mumbled something about being fine, but his bleeding lip and bruised cheek said otherwise.

“You’ll be alright Peter.” You soothed, wiping the hair from his forehead. “Can you breathe okay? Not going to pass out, right?” He nodded weakly, face growing pink from embarrassment upon realizing that everyone was watching them.

“Okay-umm…” You glance at Ned and Michelle, then help Peter up, slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Y-you’re going to be okay. I’ll make it okay.”

Limping Peter over, you slip his arm off your shoulder and let Ned hold him up. “Take him to the storage closet.” You plead. “Stay there-I’ll be there in a bit.” Michelle nods solemnly and begins to shout at people to make a path. You slowly turn to Flash, a new fire in your eyes.

“What gave you the right?” You ask quietly, your voice a dangerous calm. “What gave you the right to treat him like that Flash?”

“Hey shorty, don’t start.” Flash says, smirking down at you. “Don’t even pretend you can hurt me.”

“Maybe I can’t hurt you, although rest assured that I really, really want to.” You hiss spitefully. “You envy Peter, don’t you?” Flash’s grin slips off of his face and he growls, cracking his knuckles.

You continue, not intimidated by his actions. “You envy Peter because he’s smart enough to be a damn nuclear physicist,” Your voice is rising steadily, reaching the point of near shouting. “And the only job you’ll ever get is serving food at FUCKING MCDONALDS!” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you calm down a bit, feeling about ready to physically explode.

Flash steps closer to you, his red face looking down at you menacingly. “Are you threatening me, you little-”

You cut him off almost immediately, standing on your toes to seem taller. “Am I threatening the great Flash Thompson?” You announce sarcastically. “Hell yeah I am. Don’t think I didn’t see the S.O.L. cheat paper in your backpack. Y’know how much trouble that can get you in? Forget detention, dumb-ass. That’s worth expulsion from school.” Flash paled visibly, stepping back from you.

“You wouldn’t-”

“Oh yes, I would!” You snapped, flailing your arms around wildly. “I can have you expelled faster than you can say your own name. So how about-” You walk up to him and jab an accusing finger at his chest.

“You leave Peter, Ned and Michelle alone-” You poke him a bit harder, taking another step forward. “Stop being such an asshole-” Another sharp prod to his chest.

“And if you ever hurt Peter again, I’ll make the rest of your high school years a living hell!” You shout, pushing Flash back forcefully. Then, picking up your backpack and spinning around on your heel, you stomp away, leaving the stunned highschoolers behind.

The hallways are a blur as you break into a run, sprinting to the famous storage closet that is often used as a hideout or meeting place. You skidded to a halt at the familiar grey plaque on the wall that read “Room 201: Storage”. It takes three quick knocks, a pause, and another two for Ned to open the locked door. You dart inside and take in the sight before you. Peter looked nothing short of terrible; his lip was still bleeding profusely and there was a nice sized cut on his head that made the hair stick to his forehead, staining it a dark red. It hurt you how utterly defeated he was. Remind me to kill Flash later. You think scathingly. Michelle elbows Ned in the side and stares pointedly at the door. When Ned gives her a confused look in return, she rolls her eyes and pushed him out of the storage closet, giving you a hopeful smile before shutting the door.

“Why didn’t you clean up?” You ask, keeping your voice calm.

“I was waiting for you to come.” Peter murmured faintly.

“Peter…” You trailed off, picking a roll of paper towels off a shelf.

“It’s pathetic, I know.” He said, hugging his knees to his chest. “Maybe-maybe you shouldn’t hang around me… You’ll just become another target for Flash.”

“Peter, you’re the smartest person I know…” You start, crumpling a paper towel into a ball. “-so why are you being such a dumbass?” Peter looks up, surprised at the change of tone.

“…What?”

“You heard me. Stop being stupid.” You dab gently at his forehead with the ball of paper towels, seeing him wince at every touch. “How could I ever want to stop being around you, hmm? You’re a freaking awesome guy, smarter than anyone else I know. You’re kind and funny and fucking amazing, okay? And Flash won’t even come near us any more unless he wants to be kicked out of school.”

Peter chuckled slightly. “Knowing how you get when angry he probably pissed his pants. Twice.”

“Don’t dodge the topic.” You said coolly, throwing the bloody towel away and getting a new one. “Why do you think you’re not enough? Why don’t you understand how much I-”

“Because-because I don’t know!” Peter said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in defeat. He was trying to keep it together but the way his voice cracked when he spoke told you how he really was. “You’re you, and I’m just me! How could I possibly be enough for someone like you, huh? Spider-man is the hero, he’s the one who saves people and climbs walls! I’m Peter fucking Parker, the loser who couldn’t even save his-”

You wrap your arms around him, effectively shutting him up. Both of you stay still for a while and you refuse to let him go until his breathing evens out. After hours, or maybe just seconds, Peter sighs in content against your hair, slumping into your body and relaxing. Your hand weaves through his brown locks, gently tugging and pulling, making him whimper softly.

Before you could even think what you were doing, you pulled away for a second and brushed your lips against his jawline ever so lightly. Peter froze and his heart rate began to speed up again.

“Spider-man is great, really he is. But Spider-man’s no Peter Parker.” You say in a rushed whisper, placing his head on your shoulder. “Peter Parker is this fantastically nerdy guy with endless science jokes and big geek glasses and-and he never fails to make his friends laugh, and he may just be the dictionary definition of perfect! That’s how you are, Peter. Just a big ball of freaking adorable dorkiness and it should never be any other way.”

You could feel Peter smile against your shoulder, rubbing his nose against the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re amazing too y’know.” Came Peter’s muffled reply. He moved his head to speak clearly. “You scared Flash Thompson. That’s worth at least a Nobel Prize, being that bad-ass. And you’re better at science than me.”

“Wow Peter, no big speech for me?” You say, laughing slightly. “Fine then. We’re both pretty impressive, huh?”

Peter dug his face back into your shirt and hummed.

“D’you want to go to your place and just chill for awhile?” You ask hesitantly, scared he would freak out over the kiss and say no. Peter beamed brightly and nodded.

“Sure. Stay the night?” He replied, feeling a lot better now. The iPod in your pocket dinged and you saw a text from Michelle explaining that she and Ned were going to skip movie night just this once. You rolled your eyes at the wink emoji that she kept sending.

“Obviously.”

If anyone were to walk into the living room of the Parker residence at about 11:30 p.m., they would have seen a girl and a boy asleep soundly on the couch, the TV still playing old episodes of Teen Wolf. The two teens were, of course, a hopeless mess of tangled bodies. Both your hands were entwined in Peter’s hair and one leg was thrown over his hip while his arms were wrapped around your waist, his head against your chest, pulling you closer. At around 12:45 a.m. Peter’s hands would move lower to a less innocent place on your body and by 2:20 a.m. you had both rolled over so that you were now on top of him, your head in the crook of his neck. At 4:30 a.m. you sighed in your sleep, peaceful and happy.

[prompt-master]

In Sickness and In Sickness

[survivor-kuwait]

Episode 9 - “He just told me what side of the fence to fall on” - Corey

Well that went my way for sure!! While unanimous, literally five minutes into the warzone I told Ian we have to go after Madison and Jacob. He agreed and then we rallied the troops. Love when a plan works out. 

An alliance called M&M&M was made between Matt, Madison, and I. We were thinking of doing Ian but we didnt want to push too hard because we didnt want to reveal our cards that we had something. I just hope us sacrificing Jacob will be a positive thing for us and not a negative. Im glad theres allinces forming now. Hope i can stay away from warzone this next round but who knows. Im going to try my hardest tho.

help. who knew that my blood revenge for wanting Nehe out resulted in ALL of the other Kilimanjaro reps to be voted off one by one. parting that with chips, there was 5 people repping that season... and now I'm the lone Survivor from that season. pray for me yalls.

Ugh!!! I blame Johnny for this. Scavenger hunt is usually my favorite challenge except the both times im doing it with Johnny :p  these are soooo weird again. Dealing with this challenge and moving my stuff from my apartment on friday/saturday will probably not get me immunity. Im still trying so hopefully everyone else is busy as well. I Curse Johnny but like only a small one. Like him spilling his fries on the floor. 🍟

Hosts: Another Ian confessional, hopefully he shuts up about his idol and actually give some insight into his game. Me: MY IDOL!!!!11!!1 IT IS MINE, MY OWN, MY PRECIOUS. On a real note, I'm not sure if I confessed this round yet that one of the reasons behind the Jacob vote was to put Nar in a numbers advantage should that come into play at anytime.  The point of the premerge phase is to build as many pathways to alliances/mutually beneficial voting blocks as possible that also have a vested interest to vote with you.  I have Maynor asking to be a duo with me, sure yeah man I do like you and hope to work with you deep in this game as someone that can help me cut Corey or Trace if working with them in the game becomes problematic, but I also know Maynor has a vested interest in Kait, which I do like Kait well enough but she can't be allowed to go on a run if I want a chance to make a run myself.  Corey wants to keep our partnership as secret as possible, which yes I do think is smart, it also relies heavily on trust.  At this moment in time I have no reason but to trust Corey.  That may change in the future, he wants to keep it secret, that's chill, but I'm going to have my own backdoor deals should shit hit the fan. Devon/Matt one of them put me as the scapegoat to Jacob, I don't know which and honestly I do not care which one of them it was. They are both standing in my way at this moment for the win.  That could change in the future.  The game is long and full of terrors.

this is it this is the round im goin to the w a r z o n e 

Im safe!!! Im glad cuz tomorrow is graduation party from my parents and didnt wanna attend tribal. But i feel like Drunk Maynor is being cheated out for this season. I dont have my drinking buddies. Maybe this season wont see Drunk Maynor and I could actually be good in this game.

Me: goes to warzone a bunch People in warzone: don’t target me at all ———— Last round: People in warzone: mention my name Me: flips that ish on Jacob REAL quick also me: HA NOT GOING TO WARZONE AGAIN FOR A HOT SEC BEST BELIEVE IM FINALLY IMMUNE. imagine that! I kinda tried for once! and I placed exactly where I needed to hehe.

Thomas is a fucking idiot honestly. Like, he has been to the war zone enough times to know that the WORST possible thing you can do is throw a name out on the first night. Everything always comes together a couple hours before tribal, and by putting names out there this early, he is basically just MAKING SURE that the vote will come down between him and Adrian. For background, Thomas came to me, still butthurt about being called inactive, telling me that he wants to vote Adrian. I am very into that plan, don't get me wrong. Adrian is one person that I have literally nothing in common with. But to come in, guns blazing, this early in the war zone is a HUGE mistake, one that will probably end in a lot of extra stress for Thomas. But, it is good for me, because even though Thomas likes to spill all the tea to me, he is someone that I could very well afford losing. Kait is finally in the war zone. This could also be a pivotal moment because I would be shocked if people do not gun for her this round. I don't really want her out yet because I feel like she's a great shield for the merge, but we shall see what people want. basically, even though I don't really have any of my closest allies in the war zone (ian, Corey, Madison), I might be okay because of Thomas v Adrian, and MAJOR threats being here. The only thing that could fuck me up is if Owen tries to pull something. I do not trust that kid and want him out early merge. But for now I am just trying to lay low and vote with majority.

against all odds, I'm still safe! Warzone looks like a crackden tonight and I'm nowhere near it. I hope Owen makes it out okay. Kait, though chaotic, is someone I'm getting closer to. I would like to have her around until around f9??? we'll see. Same kind of story w Maynor. I need Thomas and Stephen OUT. Timmy as well. They are on my Arya-style kill list. I've been immune for ??? 4 tribals in a row now??? I still have my save vote to use as I have not been to tribal since obtaining it. I have also acquired a rock-save thing that Ian and I dug up together. Basically, if we go to rocks, I can use it to save myself (immune from my rock being picked). Nifty lil power... Hopefully I also get this save vote and don't become the owner of a dead power. After tomorrow's tribal, we'll be final 14. 10 gone. only 11 more to go before I'm in FTC. or 12. I don't care. As long as I'm there in the end. Ideally, with Ian and Owen and I come out victorious. I am playing nice girl, liar AND schemer. The game is outwit, outlast and you can't outwit Corey Rae Jepsen baby! and if you want the truth, this is Corey. I suspect Owen-Kait-Thomas to vote the same way. i expect Adrian-Matt to vote the same way. Chloe and Stephen are wild cards. Trace... I am praying for to be okay as well. If Chloe-Stephen-Trace-Matt-Adrian work together, they could get Thomas or Kait out. We'll see! I feel bad wanting Kait out as I do like her but if she goes w/o me having a hand in it... I'll be sad bc I like her but happy bc I think she's too smart to keep very long. She'll catch on to me. She'll plan my demise, which is exactly why I need her close to me as long as she's here. Also - Maynor coming in 2nd? I'm out here busting my butt and they're gonna rank me number three? after someone who can't even barely walk and barely do anything and all he does is sit around and fuss and curse everyone.. I was VERY insulted. (this a crystal cox quote sgflksgls) But fr he said he barely did any. mmhmmmm.. If i was on the fence about him before, he just told me what side of the fence to fall on. 

Im glad Im safe. Idk how this  vote will actually go. I wish luck to thomas matt kait. And ithers but cant remember who from other side is in it. Today imma just keep talking to ian and corey to make deeper bonds with then and enjoying my grad party. Drunk maynor may leave a confessional later.

This warzone is by far the most crucial one in my game. I’m absolutely PARANOID at this point because Kait gave me some info that Ian is mad at me for telling Jacob to vote him, wasn’t my idea but okay. I’m at a point where playing in the middle will leave me getting absolutely squashed in the middle. My allies Kait and Adrian are totally at odds with each other, and Thomas is targeting Adrian and Adrian is targeting Thomas and like, I just wanna vote Chloe. I have the feeling that Adrian needs to go this time around, it would free me of the threat of being sign partners in this game and I’d rather leave bitter betrayals for the pre jury portion of the game. As long as I’m not getting votes and I can keep holding on to this idol and some semblance of good graces with everyone in the game I’m satisfied.

Well I forgot to submit the video confessional I will later lol but I want Adrian out. He seemed very d*ckish about me being inactive and I am not taking kindly to it. It seems Trace is with me and so it Kait and Owen. I hope I can get on more person so we can get Adrian out.

I'm highkey getting 15th again... and I'm gonna cry. Like this fucking hurts so much. People aren't talking to me and the few people are just talking about life and pretty much anything but the vote. Getting a third 15th placement will literally crush my heart and soul so much, so I pray that something works out in my favor.

So happy to be safe, didn't think I would be. Ummmmm, looking at who is going to tribal, i'm not sure who is going to get voted out. I would be so sad if Kait goes, but it would be a smart move in all honesty because this is the first time she's gone to tribal. Getting her or Owen out would be a big move, but I need them in the game for the time being because they are some of the only people who are seen as bigger challenge threats than me. Although I am only safe because of the tribe I'm on, I've never scored the best overall and so really it's an interesting scenario, if I was on the other tribe I would be at the warzone, yet on mine I got 3rd. I just hope it's not a unanimous vote because I want people to come back to camp with drama.

I feel more sick than I ever have and now I’m back in the war zone. How fun. I just hope I can manage to stay safe yet again, I feel like that’s unlikely though 

Okay so I’ve been busy af with my friends all of a sudden it’s almkst tribal nnnnn and it’s between Chloe and Adrian rn. Adrian allegedly wanted me and Kait out earlier YIKE so I originally wanted him but now it’s like matt pushing for Chloe This is rlly good for my game tho because it gives me and Kait something to bond over that sets us apart from matt. I literally am never going to turn on Kait in this game.... fuck. I hope she do the same .

Its Alcohol Time!!!!!!!!

Show just got out and barely anyone messaged me the whole time whoops! I think I’m about to get blindsided tbh this is too quiet lmaooo but Kait and I pushed Adrian so hopefully that’s it. If not then it’s been fun. This seems too easy so I’m not expecting much nnnn but if I’m here.... I’m goin for it 

Im drinking more now. And im nervous who is leaving tonight. Hope the people im working with stay alive.

Good news! I won the past two challenges and have been safe!  That is awesome. Even better news is I just searched Q10 and got a hit which means I’m near an idol :)

Okay so I’ve been busy af with my friends all of a sudden it’s almkst tribal nnnnn and it’s between Chloe and Adrian rn. Adrian allegedly wanted me and Kait out earlier YIKE so I originally wanted him but now it’s like matt pushing for Chloe This is rlly good for my game tho because it gives me and Kait something to bond over that sets us apart from matt. I literally am never going to turn on Kait in this game.... fuck. I hope she do the same .

I am drunk. And i miss havjng my drinkjng buddies in dani alyssa n jess. And havung jones be on call. I need to find some drinking buddies here to have more fun. Plus monty alyssa n johnny r doing amazing as hosts this seasob.

[canaryatlaw]

Alright, well today was pretty good. I set my alarm for 9:50 and managed to wake up on time and get out the door on schedule. I had to go get my back x-rayed because that's what my doctor wanted me to do since its been driving me nuts. The place wasn't far off one of the stops on my usual red line commute so I just took that there. It was fine, pretty easy and over soon enough. I had a little time to kill before I had to go to class since I was already pretty close, so I went into a Mariano's that was nearby (though I had to walk through like two stairways and a parking garage to get there, very strange)- Mariano's is a super awesome grocery store that has a bunch of hot food options, kind of like whole foods (but probably less overall healthy, lol). So I look around for a bit before deciding on some pizza, which was amazingly delicious, and I ate like half of it on the train back over to school. I see Dan in his usual spot, and as I was approaching another girl came over and knelt down to start talking to him, so I joined them and we talked a little- I had given out my last bar yesterday and was completely out of cash, and I felt God kind of nudging me just like "hey Rachel, give him your pizza" and I was like ugh but it tastes so good! Haha but I didn't really protest, so I offered it to him and he was super happy to get some warm food (and he said he was glad it wasn't deep dish, because he'd apparently gotten a lot of that and he was sick of it by now, lol. The overall action was kind of cool though, cuz the other girl that was there was wearing a hijab (she was white so I didn't automatically assume she was Muslim but she then mentioned going a mosque up the street, and I just felt like it was a really cool moment for both of us from different religions stopping and showing kindness to someone who needs help because that's what we believe our God wants us to do. Now, I'm not exactly a universalist- I don't think all faiths are equally valid and any will get you into heaven- but I do think it was an awesome moment considering the conflict between many people of the two religions at this point. I may write up a Facebook post on the incident, but I'll have to think about what I want to say exactly since it could get into some touchy areas when it comes to the finer points of theology some of my Facebook friends are rather keen on debating. I did head out eventually since I had class, but not before running over to Anthony and giving him the bag of smart pop popcorn I had in my bag because hey, I didn't really need it anyway. It's funny, I try to plan ahead and bring food with me when I'll be out all day, but then I end up just giving it to the homeless people I come across- it kind of makes me smile, really. So, class. It was fine, we got to talk a bit more about the finer points of cases were relying on and such and I talked a fair amount and felt more clear on our points, so that was good. We got out around 2:35 and the next thing I had to do was get to the Apple Store at 3:30, which wasn't too far so I had a little time. Since I no longer had any food on me, I went to the Starbucks next door to school and was intrigued enough by their new item, the malt chocolate latte to ask what I was sure was a stupid question, if it was possible to make it without coffee, lol (they can make any of the fraps without coffee using a cream base) and the girl was like "uh let me check" then returned a second later and said they could, so I got that and a warmed up butter croissant because those are amazing. The drink was good, I'm pretty sure it only amounted to hot chocolate really- steamed milk and syrups of different flavors, lol, but still enjoyable. I got on the bus I generally take to the bus at this point on my Friday and stayed on a bit longer till we got to the Apple Store. Didn't have to wait too long, they ran one test and said the computer was having trouble connecting with the hard drive, meaning there might be something wrong with it (which could mean risking losing all my data) orrr it could be this cable that connects it to the rest of the computer that a lot of people have had issues with so they would try to replace that and see if it worked, and since it was a recurring problem they were covering the repair costs, even though it wasn't under warranty, so that was awesome. Bus back to school, got to hang for a few minutes in which I tried to start my mission based lawyering project haha but I got a minimal start at least. Then we had the PAD meeting, nothing interesting really. Towards the end my phone rang and it was the Apple Store saying my computer was good to go, and we pretty much had wrapped up so I grabbed a Lyft to the Apple Store (ugh, traffic) and grabbed my computer, then took another Lyft over to the bar/restaurant the child and family law association was hosting with the child and family law society at the law school across the street from us. So I spent a few hours there and it was nice, casual and some good conversations and story swapping of course. So that was good. After a while I heard out and came home, and decided to finally turn on Supergirl, which I may not react to in too much detail right now because it's late and I'm tired, lol. The episode just really left me irritated though, because Kara barely even had a plot, it was all the Meh-El show and I'm so over him and his stupid drama, so most of the show I was tweeting telling him to just go with his parents and leave us alone, but of course that couldn't happen. I called that his mom was gonna stab his dad like a solid minute before it happened haha so I was pleased with that prediction. Idk, I still get the feeling (although this might be more of a hope than actual intuition) that they're somehow gonna write him off in the season finale. Like I guess he just feels like a one season character to me, so let's hope that's what they do. One good highlight of the episode was of course Sanvers, who continue to have super touching moments and that one at the end almost had me in tears because it was just too perfect. They're seriously the best thing that's come out of season 2 so far, by a long shot. Sigh. After that I watched Riverdale, which was an interesting and intense episode. There are a lot of crazy people in that town, lol. The whole Polly situation made me mad, and while I've pretty much had nothing but contempt for Mrs Cooper the whole time the show's been on so far the way she stood up to her husband for her daughter tonight I thought was really beautiful and showed just how much she did care about Polly, even if she struggles to show it at times. And then the end scene with her and Betty crying because Polly decided to go live with the Blossoms (which of course is a terrible idea, which I'm sure we'll see soon) was so heartbreaking. I like that Hermione (it feels really weird to use that name outside the context of Harry Potter) was so willing to let Polly stay with her, I'd like to think that's the type of mom I'd be. Other than that I didn't really care much about the Archie and Jughead construction plot line that was just kind of meh. But yeah, very dramatic episode, but not a bad one. And on that note I pretty much ended up evening activities, and I think now I will end this post here since it's quite late and my eyes would very much like to be closed right now. Goodnight ladies and gents. Happy weekend.