#one time I swear to god we just had the guy from American Psycho just a real ass Patrick Bateman
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London Boy - Part 2: Let the Game begin
summary: You had always thought you knew exactly what kind of boys Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton were - but did you actually?
pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)
warnings: swearing
word count: 2.5k
a/n: no one is asking for this but here it is anyways lmao enjoy (not canon Rafe)
You make it back to your room and take a deep breath. Boys. You were living with boys. Not just any boys - Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton. Whatever, you thought, shaking yourself back to reality. It didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t about to let them get in the way of having the time of your life these next few months and you definitely weren’t going to let them keep your mind tied to OBX. That was a tie you desperately wanted to cut. Besides, if you knew Rafe and Topper like you thought you did, they’d be too caught up with playing both the field and the girls of Westheath before you knew it, effectively keeping them occupied and out of your way.
You decided to go about your day as you usually would. Your Have a Great Day playlist was queued up and playing as you slipped on your favorite jeans and top. You let yourself get absentmindedly lost in your actions as you did your hair and makeup - enough to make you feel put together and regain some control after the way this morning had left you feeling vulnerable. Looking good made you feel good - and if anyone else thought you looked good too, then hey, that was just an added bonus.
You hadn’t noticed how lost in the process of getting ready you had gotten until you looked down at your phone and saw that an hour had flown by. You were half way down the hall to the kitchen when the door of your flat flew open, bringing you face to face with two new people for the second time that day.
“Oh my gosh hiiii!” a girl turned to you, pausing her laughter from the conversation she was having with the girl next to her. “I’m Olivia! It’s so nice to meet you!!” the bubbly girl exclaimed, immediately embracing you in a hug. The other girl laughed at her friend’s excitement and forwardness which had clearly startled you.
“I’m Millie - you must be one of our flatmates,” the other girl smiled, introducing herself to you as well.
“Hi, I’m Y/n,” you smiled softly.
“Oh my gosh Mills! I knew it! I told you we’d get roomed with the Americans! Ugh this is so exciting, there’s so much I need to know I don’t even know where to start!” Olivia squealed with a little hop.
“Alright don’t scare the poor girl, she’s gonna think they’ve stuck her with a couple of psychos,” laughed Millie, pulling her friend’s arm to lead her down the hall. “Come on Liv let’s let y/n breathe for a second while we go put our bags down,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.
You laughed and continued on to the kitchen to get some water as you had originally set out to do. You were honestly relieved. Thank god your other two roommates were girls who weren’t remotely associated with OBX. You didn’t even mind their intensity, it was endearing really, and you’d take a couple of loud but genuine girls who seemed like they were a bunch of fun to hang out with over the bitchiness and cattiness you were used to with the girls back home at Kildare.
“Alright Y/n, I forgot sheets and Mills didn’t bring a towel so we’re going to Primark and you’re coming with. I want to hear all the American gossip,” Olivia reappeared and then slipped back down the hallway with a wink. You laughed and went to go grab your bag, just then realizing Rafe and Topper were no longer at the flat. You wondered where they had gone, not hearing them slip out over the music you were playing earlier. Not that you cared, it was a relief to have them out of sight and out of mind for now.
—
“Hmm Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, does sound rather posh,” mused Millie as you had begun providing some intel to your friends on the two flatmates they had yet to meet.
“Two American ladies men, sign me up!” cackled Olivia.
“Hey watch yourself missy, you’re taken,” Millie scolded.
You had only known these girls for maybe an hour and somehow you had been comfortable enough with them to open up about your entire life’s backstory as you walked with them through the home section of Primark. It felt like they had been your friends for years, the three of you gelling together effortlessly.
“Oo you have a boyfriend?” you asked as your eyes scanned over the shelf of fluffy blankets in front of you. You simply couldn’t leave without the light grey one, daydreaming about how cozy napping with it would be.
“I do. His name is Jake,” Olivia beamed, “he’s kind of an idiot, but I love him.”
“And he’s got a whole squad of idiot friends too, but you’ll see for yourself,” Millie laughed.
“Oh shit that reminds me! I invited them all over to pregame tonight before freshers,” chimed Olivia.
“What’s freshers?” you asked, raising your brows in confusion.
Millie and Olivia shared a quick laugh at how clueless you were to everything in their world.
“So freshers is like this huge club event at the beginning of the school year. It’s really meant for uni freshers but since half of us are 18 and we can easily sneak in the other half it’s kind of tradition for Westheath kids to go their last year. Me and Mills went last year too though, one of the guys we knew the year above us was cousins with the bouncer,” Olivia grinned proudly. “But literally everyone is going and that means you’re coming too and- oh shit I’m such a bloody idiot aren’t I! I’m sorry Y/n I literally didn’t think at all to ask anyone from our flat if it was okay to host a pregame,” she bit her thumb with guilt-ridden eyes.
“Looks like you and your idiot boyfriend are actually a match made in heaven,” joked Millie as Olivia gave her the finger, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh no that’s totally fine! I’ve had like barely any human interaction these last few days and it’ll be nice to meet some more people from Westheath. It’ll be fun,” you reassured Olivia with a genuine smile. “I just uh- I’ve never been clubbing. Like what do I even wear, I don’t think I brought anything like that. And I’m not 18 for another month, would I even get in?”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re here isn’t it!” exclaimed Olivia, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the clothes section. “Mills this would be PERFECT don’t you think,” she said as she held up a sheer black top in front of you.
“Oh my gosh yes. With a black bra underneath and mini skirt,” Millie grinned, nodding in excitement with Olivia.
“Guys I don’t know if I can wear this. Like I don’t think I can pull this off,” you said meekly.
“Oh my god shut up this would look so good on you. Your body is killer and you can 1000% pull this off,” Olivia insisted, shoving the garment toward you. “And we’ll get you in the club no problem,” she added firmly, shutting down any possibility of you talking your way out of tonight.
“Wait shit do you think Rafe and Topper will be cool with the pregame? We haven’t even properly met them yet and I’ve already invited a bunch of strangers to our place,” groaned Olivia as the three of you headed toward the register.
“Trust me, if there’s two things those boys definitely don’t mind it’s a party and a reason to drink,” you laughed.
—-
As the three of you unlocked the door to your flat you could hear Rafe and Topper’s voices from the kitchen. Ugh, back already.
“Hellooo boys,” called Olivia with zero hesitation, walking straight into the kitchen. “Name’s Olivia, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled extending her hand.
“Pleasure is all ours,” Rafe smiled back. It took every ounce of your will power not to roll your eyes at his smugness.
“Indeed it is,” grinned Topper giving her a hand shake. “And you are,” Topper immediately drew his attention to Millie entering the kitchen right behind Olivia. You didn’t miss how his eyes ran her up and down.
“Millie, your fifth and final roommate,” she smirked, not having missed his wandering eyes either.
“So listen boys,” Olivia clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “I may have invited my boyfriend and some of our friends over to pregame tonight before we all go out to the club. You guys are obviously welcome to join but if you’re not cool with us having people over just say the word and-“
“Done deal. What time should we be ready?” Topper cut her off
“9. See you then,” she grinned from ear to ear sauntering off to her room.
“Alright I need to go unpack, but it was lovely to meet you boys, see you soon,” Millie smiled, eyes locking with Topper’s for a second too long before she too slipped away. You wanted nothing more than to escape to your room as well but you were starving, and since you were now living with Rafe and Topper you’d have to learn to go about your life around your new home despite their presence. You sighed as you made your way to the fridge, trying to decide what you were gonna scrap together for dinner.
“So how long have you been here already?” asked Rafe, grabbing some Pringles and taking a seat at the table, Topper already spreading out comfortably on the couch.
“Uh, few days,” you replied, not bothering to turn around.
“See anything cool yet,” Topper chimed in as he scrolled on his phone. The way they were asking you questions was oddly normal. You were trying hard to detect any hint of cockiness in their voice but you couldn’t find any. You weren’t ready to let your guard down fully, not entirely trusting the pair, but you decided to soften a bit and give them a chance.
“Yeah actually, I walked around Hyde Park the other day and the day before I watched the sunset from Millennium Bridge. It was beautiful,” you replied, finally turning toward the boys, a jar of pasta sauce in hand.
“Crazy being in a city like this huh. Definitely not the Outer Banks,” Rafe chuckled lightly, gaze settling on the window.
“Definitely not the Outer Banks,” you smiled.
—-
“What do you mean you haven’t watched Friends!?” you let out an exasperated cry as you twirled more spaghetti on your fork.
“It’s stupid,” said Topper, making a face.
“It’s a classic,” you retorted.
“No. The Office though. Now that’s a classic.”
“Should’ve know you were an Office guy,” you shook your head, Rafe laughing from his seat across from you.
“Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t know how to appreciate true comedy,” Topper shrugged.
“Yeah okay,” you rolled your eyes, turning now to face the dirty blonde seated across from you, absent mindedly shuffling a deck of cards for no reason, the golden ring on his finer catching your eye as his hands moved in a repetitive motion. “And what about you Mr. Dealer,” you asked Rafe, eyes motioning to the cards in his hand before going back up to meet his gaze. Rafe knew how to keep good eye contact with a person, confident yet not overpowering, and as the evening progressed and you become more comfortable you welcomed the challenge of his piercing blue eyes.
“I’m more of a How I Met Your Mother guy,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Huh, I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as that.”
“And what would you have pegged me as, Y/n,” he asked, still holding your gaze to which you just shrugged playfully, letting him wonder.
“Okay, forget about comedies. Game of Thrones. Hands down best thing I’ve ever watched,” Topper stated, throwing his palms down on the table.
“I mean I do hear good things, but I don’t know, seems kind of intense,” you said before shoving another forkful of spaghetti in your mouth.
“No no no Y/n you literally don’t know what you’re missing out on, it’s pure genius,” Topper continued passionately.
Rafe gave you a knowing glance as you two made eye contact again, trying not to laugh, “He’s been on my ass for years to watch it.”
“And now you have no excuse! It’s senior man, classes will be light work, just give it a chance,” Topper pleaded.
“You know what Topper, just because you’re practically jumping out of your seat right now, I’ll check it out just for you,” you laughed as Toppers face pulled into a wide grin.
“Good enough for me,” he said victoriously.
“Lemme one up that Topps, I’ll also give it a chance, so it better be worth it,” Rafe added, Topper’s eyes growing wide in simultaneous glee and disbelief. Topper quickly got up from his seat, puffing his chest, “woooo! Winter is coming to London baby!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist before heading down the hall to his room.
Two hours had passed by with you hanging out in the kitchen with Rafe and Topper, and to your surprise… you were actually enjoying yourself. You guys had talked about the things you wanted to do in London, the music you all listened to, favorite movies, and tv shows of course. You almost didn’t know how to process it. How could two guys who seemed like such kook douchebags actually be - cool? You had always regarded the two at face value, but perhaps there was more to these boys than what meets the eye.
“Oh god how is it already 8, I’m so behind,” you groaned, getting up to wash your dishes.
“Once Topper is full speed ahead, there’s no stopping that man,” Rafe laughed.
“Hey,” you turned your head around from the sink, soapy dish in hand. “I was actually serious about giving Game of Thrones a try. Damn Topper if he didn’t make me curious now,” you laughed, “but I was thinking, if you’re actually gonna watch too, that we should time it so we both watch on the same days. Because then if we’re on the same schedule, whenever we see each other in the kitchen or something we can discuss and we’ll be on the same episodes so no spoilers.”
“So you mean we’d both watch on our own but at the same time?” Rafe asked.
“Yeah,” you replied, as if it was obvious. That’s what you literally just described.
“Well if we’re gonna watch it at the same time, we might as well just watch it together Y/n,” he calmly stated, walking right up next to you to put his Pringles away.
“Uh yeah I mean that works too,” you replied, looking up at the boy now next to you, getting slightly flustered by his presence once again. His blue eyes were piercing right through you, and this time it was a losing a battle.
“Cool,” he smiled, turning around and walking out of the kitchen to his room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, the water still running in front of you as you stood their holding the sponge like an idiot. What the fuck just happened?
---
Part 3
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DEXTER SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS
❛ You're mine now, so do exactly as I say. ❜
❛ Open your eyes and look at what you did! ❜
❛ I'm a very neat monster. ❜
❛ Pretty fucking please with cheese on top. ❜
❛ You have a morbid sense of fun. ❜
❛ What happened changed something inside you. ❜
❛ If God is in the details, and if I believed in God, then he's in this room with me. ❜
❛ I can kill a man, dismember his body, and be home in time for "Letterman." But knowing what to say when my girlfriend's feeling insecure...I'm totally lost. ❜
❛ Neither you nor I is in complete control of our destinies. ❜
❛ There are no secrets in life, just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface. ❜
❛ Keeping my face pinched in sorrow for two hours straight is a real chore. ❜
❛ A whole life reduced to ashes. ❜
❛ I can't help it. I kill things. ❜
❛ When you take a man's life, you're not just killing him, you're snuffing out all the things he'll ever become. ❜
❛ Killing must serve a purpose. Otherwise it's murder. ❜
❛ You don't play by the rules. Why should I? ❜
❛ If I had a heart, it might be breaking right now. ❜
❛ I'm all for sending the message, but this ain't the way. ❜
❛ Scream and lose a tongue. ❜
❛ Death isn't the end. It's the beginning of a chain reaction that will catch you if you're not careful. ❜
❛ If I let someone get that close, they'd see who I really am, and I can't let that happen. ❜
❛ I like it here with you. You're the only person people hate more than me. ❜
❛ Sometimes, I'm not sure where _____'s vision of me ends and the real me starts. ❜
❛ Everyone hides who they are at least some of the time. ❜
❛ So I'm neither man nor beast. I'm something new entirely, with my own set of rules. ❜
❛ Stop grinning like a fucking psycho and get back to work. ❜
❛ Freedom's just another word for one more way to get fucked. ❜
❛ Maybe you should just learn the basics before you reinvent the damn wheel. ❜
❛ The problem with acting normal is normal people get into stupid situations like this. ❜
❛ Maybe if I don't blink, my eyes will tear up. ❜
❛ Under normal circumstances, I'd take that as a compliment. ❜
❛ Keeping the truth from the people closest to you is how you'll survive, and how you'll protect them if anything goes wrong. ❜
❛ Every time something goes a little bit right, something like this happens. ❜
❛ God, I feel like I need a shower just looking at this douche bag. ❜
❛ ____ will forgive me eventually. That's who she is - bighearted, kind, nothing like me. ❜
❛ The only sound I hear, the only sound in the entire world...is my heart beating. ❜
❛ I swear, after this case, I'm submitting your ass for psychiatric evaluation. ❜
❛ We hit the motherfucking mother lode. ❜
❛ When did you first notice it? This darkness inside the guy you fell for. ❜
❛ God, this is such a mess, and I've dragged you into it. ❜
❛ Just let me grab my heart up off the fucking floor. ❜
❛ Goddamn, you are fine when you're mad. ❜
❛ Fascination with serial killers is an American pastime. ❜
❛ All the expectations I had, all the promises of greatness, wiped out. ❜
❛ My circle of friends is down to one. ❜
❛ Don't kill anyone who doesn't deserve to die. ❜
❛ I'm empty...but I found a way to make it feel less bottomless. ❜
❛ You pretend the feelings are there for the world, and for the people around you. Who knows? Maybe one day they will be. ❜
❛ I always prided myself on being an outsider, but now, I feel the need to connect with someone. ❜
❛ Why do bloodstains always look like crustaceans to you? ❜
❛ To some people, death makes perfect sense. Life - now, that's the puzzle. ❜
❛ This is the only way I know how to keep you out of an electric chair. ❜
❛ It feels like... I hate saying this. It sounds so fucking cheesy. It feels like making love. ❜
❛ I do have another motive. It's called a paycheck. ❜
❛ For the first time in a long while, I saw how easy it would be for me to fall back into my old life. ❜
❛ I guess this matters to me. So if I talk about it and it goes away, I'm actually losing something. ❜
❛ There must have been a time in your life when you felt powerless. ❜
❛ I'm gonna tell you something that I've never told anyone before. I'm a serial killer. ❜
❛ You're awake. Shall we analyze your dreams? ❜
❛ Trauma can distort the memory. ❜
❛ Well, thanks for the vote of fucking confidence. ❜
❛ Death is the great unifier. ❜
❛ My fingerprints were all over it. I figured it was prudent to get rid of the evidence. ❜
❛ I know I should be sorry that we met under these circumstances, but truthfully, I think it was the best way to get to know you. ❜
❛ My concrete foundation is turning to shifting sand. ❜
❛ Something finally got to you. I guess you're human after all. ❜
❛ You can talk to me, you know? Just got to open your mouth and move it. ❜
❛ I can always see other people's problems more clearly than my own. ❜
❛ What'd the freak do this time, boil your goldfish? ❜
❛ Thanks, but unless you know an expert in repressed memories… ❜
❛ You are all the family that I have, and I barely know you. ❜
❛ How often does someone get a chance to help catch a bad guy, huh? ❜
❛ You've been a problem. It's time for you to go away. ❜
❛ So, this is doom. I've been the architect of so much of it. It's only fair I should know what all the fuss is all about. ❜
❛ Don't you dare! Not in front of my baby! ❜
❛ Close your eyes, _____. ❜
❛ I've never had much use for the concept of hell, but if hell exists, I'm in it. ❜
❛ It climbed inside me that day, and it's been with me ever since -- My dark passenger.
❛ Don't struggle. That never helps. ❜
❛ I'm compressing your carotid artery, and that is cutting off oxygen to your brain. In about 10 seconds, you'll be unconscious. ❜
❛ Does that make you feel anything? Anything at all? ❜
❛ If I'd have known that this would get you back in the same room with me, I would have gotten stabbed sooner. ❜
❛ I put myself out there. I set myself up to get hurt. ❜
❛ No wonder I felt so disconnected my entire life. If I did have emotions, I'd have to feel...this. ❜
❛ You're not a parent. You don't understand. You do anything to protect your kids. ❜
❛ It's who you know and who you blow. ❜
❛ If you came for an apology, you wasted a tank of gas. ❜
❛ I mean, a real hour, not one of your "let's stretch this out till 2:00 a.m. you might as well stay and have sex" hours. ❜
❛ I don't often make mistakes, but when I do, they haunt me. ❜
❛ So desperate to fall in love. ❜
❛ I've lived in darkness a long time. Over the years, my eyes adjusted until the dark became my world and I could see. ❜
❛ Surprise, motherfucker. ❜
❛ Spin me a story, asshole. ❜
❛ This is not the way I envisioned our family reunion. ❜
❛ You don't ever have to apologize to me. Not for who you are or anything you do. ❜
❛ Imagine how I felt when I tracked you down and found out you were exactly like me. ❜
❛ You can be yourself with me. Your real, genuine self. ❜
❛ You can't be a killer and a hero. It doesn't work that way! ❜
❛ I was so scared. I was so scared. ❜
❛ What am I, one of your victims now? ❜
❛ You should know this isn't easy for me. ❜
❛ You're the only one I ever wanted to set free. ❜
❛ Sorry. I can't hear any more...'cause you're right. ❜
❛ My devil danced with his demon, and the fiddler's tune isn't over. ❜
❛ I wonder what it would be like for everything inside me that's denied and unknown to be revealed. ❜
❛ This is what it must feel like to walk in full sunlight, my darkness revealed, my shadow self embraced. ❜
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BECHLOE WEEK DAY FOUR
today’s prompt was “near death” so this is what i did. what a clutz move beca. enjoy.
“The air smelled of grease and sweat. Gross. But it was a carnival, so it seemed less gross at that minute. The Bellas arrived at three, minus Chloe, who unfortunately had to work. The sun was shining and children ran all around.
The Bellas played rigged games, ate gross fair food, and rode rides for a few hours before Aubrey spotted the ferris wheel. Aubrey claimed that you always had to go on it. It’s a classic ride. So, ten college girls joined the line for the ferris wheel. It seemed like a long line, but it moved fairly quickly. After only about twenty minutes, the girls were able to board the ride.
Emily squeezed into a car with Beca, as the other girls found their way into the seats. It was a pleasant ride. The sun was just beginning to set as the wheel turned. Beca thought about Chloe, and how she would love to watch the sunset from up here. She snapped a photo to show her later. Beca and Chloe had been dating for around six months now—Chloe was kinda all Beca could think about. She loved everything about her.
Beca and Emily shared a nice conversation as the ride went on. Suddenly the ride stopped. Beca looked down. They were already unloading. Beca watched as an old couple exited the ride. The ride starts and then stops, again. This time, they’re at the top. “Oh my god what is that?” Emily shouted, looking down at their seat.
Beca jolted to the side, shaking the cart, when she noticed the huge spider who had apparently been riding the ferris wheel with them. “What the hell,” She said, shaking her hand towards it, “Get out!” This only seemed to anger the spider.
The two girls both start freaking out, trying, desperately, to move the spider. The whole seat is shaking now. “Sit still in your seat please, we will be unloading you shortly.” A man shouts from below them. Neither of them register it, as the spider is still planning on coming along for the ride.
Then it happens. The mistake. Beca leaned forward, shooing the spider off of the seat, only to go with it. She fell over the rail, tumbling to the ground. Emily starts panicking. Screaming, as she watched Beca hit the ground. “Get me off please! My friend is dying!”
The wheel slowly turns again, letting Aubrey and Stacie exit the ride. “Shit!” Aubrey yells, rushing through the crowd of people in line.
“Chloe is gonna kill us.” Stacie mumbles, scrambling over to the other side of the ride.
“What the hell happened Emily!?” Aubrey shouts when Emily exits the ride. The crowd of people gathered around Beca is huge. Everyone is trying to help her up. She can barely catch her breath.
“She just. Fell. I don’t know.” Emily said, pulling Beca up off of the ground. Beca winces as she tries to walk. The Bellas can tell that she’s trying to hide the amount of pain she’s in. Maybe that’s just her.
Amy carries Beca to the car, where the girls start arguing, after they start driving. “So. Which one of you guys wants to call Chloe and explain this? I’m driving, so it can’t be me.” Aubrey says, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Not me. Chloe’s gonna go insane.” Stacie says, looking back at the rest of the girls.
“Word. I vote Emily. I mean, you were in the same seat as her. It’s half your fault.” Amy says, half jokingly, pointing to Emily.
“Okay. I guess that’s fair. I mean there was no way I could have stopped her from falling, but..”
“Emily. Phone. Now.” Aubrey said, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Right.” Emily mumbles, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She dials Chloe’s number, and listened to it ring.
“Hey Emily, are you guys having fun?” Chloe asked. God. Why does Chloe have to be so happy? Emily was so nervous. She was about to give horrible news.
“Don’t be mad.” Emily says, her voice shaking, as she puts Chloe on speakerphone.
“What did you do?” Chloe asked, immediately growing suspicious.
“Well. It’s kinda dumb. I don’t really know how to tell you.”
“Where are you? Put Beca on the phone.” Chloe demands.
“Beca…” Emily starts, and then looks around at the girls in the car, “Is a little tied up right now. Um. Can I take a message?”
“Emily. Don’t be an ass. Just tell her what happened. Stop stalling.” Aubrey chimed in, from the front of the car, still trying to focus on driving. She’s definitely speeding.
“What happened?”
“Beca is injured.” Emily says, Stacie shooting her a confused look.
“Where are you?”
“We’re pulling up at the hospital.” Emily said, examining their surroundings.
“Emily. I swear to God. If my girlfriend isn’t in one piece when I get there, you’re dead.”
“Got it. See you soon.” Emily said, rushing to unbuckle her seatbelt.
-
“What can I do for you ladies?” A man nurse says, as the girls enter the hospital.
“My friend here, fell off of a ferris wheel like ten minutes ago. I don’t know how American hospitals work, but whatever you can do to like fix that issue would be good.” Amy blurted out, chuckling.
The nurse immediately rushes them all to a hospital room where they sit Beca down and start checking everything. “Alright, we’re just gonna ask you guys to stand outside while we run some tests and get her all fixed up.”
“Okay. But beware. Her girlfriend is on the way and is definitely gonna go psycho. Just letting you know ahead of time.” Stacie says, as the nurse closes the door.
“Yeah. Legacy that’s yours to deal with.” Amy says, pointing her finger at Emily, again.
Sure enough. Just a few minutes later, Chloe arrives at the hospital. “Where is she?” Chloe asked, approaching the group.
“Uh we can’t see her yet, they’re doing… whatever it is that they do when they do ‘tests’” Aubrey says, pulling Chloe into a hug. Chloe’s eyes are full of worry and fear.
A few moments of silence pass, all of the girls trying to avoid telling Chloe of the days events. Chloe is the first to break the silence. “So is no one going to tell me what the hell happened?” she shouted, with a bit more anger and way louder than she had intended to.
“Well. Emily, if you want to…” Aubrey started, before Chloe interrupted.
“Yeah Emily, if you could tell me what’s going on, that would be great.”
“So, we were just y’know, riding rides and stuff. We all decided to get on the ferris wheel together. And it was all going okay until they were unloading.” Emily starts to explain, using an unnecessary amount of hand gestures. “We were just waiting to be unloaded and this huge spider just walked into our uh. Our seat. And we were both kinda freaking out. Beca moved to the side and the whole seat started to like move around, and then she moved forward and fell off… the ferris wheel…”
“You let Beca fall off the ferris wheel?”
“I don’t know how good my reaction time is but-”
“Not good enough.” Chloe interrupted, anxiously pacing the hallway.
“Chloe-”
“She could have died, Emily!”
“Chloe I don’t think she’s going to die, don’t worry.” Aubrey said, grabbing Chloe.
“I just. I can’t-” Chloe started, bursting into tears.
“I know.” Aubrey said, pulling her into a hug.
-
After a while, the nurse comes back out of the room and announced that they can go in to see her now. He begins to walk the group towards a room. Stretching out his hand to the door, the girls begin to enter. Chloe pushes through the small crowd, entering the room first. She slams the door behind her, throwing her coat onto the floor.
“Yeah that’s the-” Amy starts to say.
“Psycho girlfriend?” The nurse finishes, chuckling. The girls all hum in response. “Ah. Gotcha. I’ll come back in a few minutes.”
Beca turns her head, smiling to see her girlfriend. She is wearing a cast on her wrist and has scratches on her face. Her forehead also houses a bruise. Chloe caresses Beca’s cheek, dragging her finger across a scratch.
“Dude you can’t do that. Scared the shit out of me.” Chloe says, smiling at her girlfriend.
“Do what?”
“Fall off a ferris wheel? Are you crazy?” Chloe exclaims, pulling her girlfriend into a tight hug, running her hand up and down her back.
Beca pulls away after a moment and looks at Chloe. “Yeah, crazy for you.”
“Beca. You almost just died. And you’re flirting?”
“Yeah. It was just like when I fell for you.” Beca says, her eyes scanning Chloe’s body. Chloe hums, smiling into beca’s lips as they connect with her own. What had gotten into Beca? She giggled as Chloe sat down on the hospital bed. “You’re pretty.”
“I love you.” Chloe blurts out. For the first time. A smile that Chloe has never seen before appears on Beca’s face. A smile so big. She climbed into Chloe’s lap, kissing her lips.
“I love you too.” Beca whispers just an inch away from her girlfriend’s lips. Beca had just begun kissing Chloe’s neck, when there was a knock at the door.
“Hello? Are you guys done with hospital makeout shit? We want to see the bitch who fell off the ferris wheel. Make sure she’s not dead.” Amy yelled from outside the door. Chloe instantly started chuckling.
“She’s not dead!” She shouted, Beca giggling into her neck as the door swung open. The nurse enters the room again, accompanied by ten a cappella girls, who immediately bombard Beca with questions. Beca falls back into Chloe’s arms as the conversation continues.
When it was time to leave, the whole room is soon in tears of laughter, including the nurse, who quickly became friends with the Bellas.
As soon as they get into the car, Chloe deciding to drive a few of the girls back home so that they wouldn’t be squished into Aubrey’s car, Beca finds a permanent marker. “Hey, wanna sign this shit?”
“Obviously.” Chloe says, taking the pen, scribbling away.
“Better be cool,” Beca says, waiting.
It takes a second for Beca to readjust to view her cast. “Chloe Beale’s lover?!” Beca shouts, reading the new inscription on her cast. The whole car erupts in laughter.”
#bechloe week 2021#bechloeweek#pitch perfect#pitch perfect fan#beca mitchell#bechloe#beca+chloe#chloe beale
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A Little Twisted.
Chapter One: The King
Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny
It was late, later then Steve wanted to leave work. Working for his father’s business had been the worst mistake of his life. The long hours, business trips, and paperwork killed him. The only thing that added fun to his life was his body count and not in a sex way. Every business trip, he left a crime scene behind; it was an excellent hobby, a fun game.
As Steve unlocked his car that was parked in the darkness of the street, he heard sounds coming from the alleyway—harsh breaths and muffled screams paired with the tell-tell sounds of struggle. There, barely visible in the alley between two abandoned shops, was a tall man dressed in dark denim and golden strands that fell over his shoulders in beautiful curls. He was pretty, despite, or maybe because of, the deep scowl etched into his features. The closer Steve looked, it seemed there was another person there, pushed up against the man and the dirty brick of the wall.
The curiosity got the better of him, and rather than sidle back into his car to drive 40 minutes to a dull house with boring people and boring television; he found his feet carrying him closer. Steve was friends with the shadows, staying well within them to edge closer to the struggle. It was when he had just made it to the opening of the alley that he heard the all-too-familiar crunch of bone and a strangled scream for help that sounded more gurgle than yell. The man was standing, staring down at the body and the bloodied mess he’d made of the wall and his hands. Shining, wet blood covered the front of him, splatters adorning the smooth skin of his face.
It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous.
Steve watched the rage boiling in the man’s face turn sour, listening to him swear under his breath. His blood-covered hands reaching for his blonde curls to smooth it out of his face. Steve smiled in the alley’s dim light. Seeing the reaction of a man’s first kill was titillating to witness.
Steve’s first kill was cleaner, more planned, and he was 12. He had many years to fine-tune his skills and make sure he was hidden from people’s noses, Of course, unless he was too excited like now. Steve hadn’t noticed the can at his feet which he kicked into the dead body when he shifted his weight.
The man got spooked, and in fear of losing this beautiful man, he put his hands up, showing himself.
“Wait, Wait, don’t run.”
The man’s hands were shaking, slight tremors running up and down his spine as he took Steve in. Those sharp, light eyes dragged over his suit-clad figure, and if Steve had been the type of man to blush, his cheeks would be dusted pink with the intense attention the man gave him.
“Who- I didn’t. He was,” his voice cracked, wide, terrified eyes looking down at the bloodied mess the victim’s face was, “What did I do?”
“Looks like you killed him,” Steve said calmly, eyeing the man’s messy job. “Poorly, I might add,” Steve kneeled, being careful not to get blood on himself. “Good spot though, dark alley, broken cameras.” Steve eyed the area, breaking it down for himself to see how easy this would be to cover up.
The man’s eyebrows furrowed, his body screamed defensive, waiting for Steve to shout or call the cops or something. But he didn’t.
“Who are you?” He spat, top lip pulling up into a snarl. He looked like a cornered animal, faced with a variable that had the ability to ruin him. Hell, he’d murdered someone in a blind rage—he’d already been ruined if it wasn’t for Steve, and isn’t that a nice little bit of luck.
Steve smiled when he locked gazes with the fear-filled blue of the man’s eyes. “Seems like I’m your guardian angel.” Steve winked—the excitement building in his chest was impressive; honestly, he was kind of turned on by all of this. “Wait here; I have a kit in my car. I promise I’m here to help you.”
The man stood flabbergasted, the blood coating the front of his shirt and up and down his arms starting to chill with the cold wind. Steve turned and made his way back to his car, nonchalant and even a slight spring in his step, the blond stranger left in the disturbing quiet of the alley. The silence was deafening, and it roared in the man’s ears.
Steve returned moments later, holding a large black case, wearing a rudder-looking apron and gloves. He had a smile on his face that seemed not to fade. "Can I ask you some questions? About this friend of yours, about tonight?" Steve placed the case on the ground, wondering if this was weird for him, this well-dressed stranger who happens to be a psychopathic murderer. "What's your name?”
The man’s mouth dropped open a bit, taking Steve even before giving a small, unbelieving chuckle and mumbling what the fuck under his breath. “You’re a nutcase, aren’t you?” He gave Steve a cautious side-eye before facing him head-on, meeting his gaze, “You can call me Neil. And that,” he said, pointing at the body, “is not my friend. But ask away if you gotta.”
Steve completely ignored Neil's stab at him for being 'crazy' Steve wasn't crazy—far from it.
"Did you have sex with him?" Steve mumbled as he pulled out a plastic sheet from his case and laid it on the ground.
Billy licked his lips nervously, hands tightening into fists at his side. “No! N-no,” he hesitated, stomach rolling uncomfortably at recalling what had made him do… this… in the first place, “He was trying to— he put something in my drink. But it must’ve been weak or some shit because I could still move. Kinda. I came-to here and kinda, just,” his nostrils flared with fury, eyes even beginning to blur with tears just remembering. He didn’t want to remember. “I didn’t give him the chance to.”
Steve snorted at himself as he dragged the body onto the sheet. Not at Neil's misfortune but the fact that he helped throw the defense case out the window if he got caught. "Then good riddance to this ass hole--" Steve went through the victim’s pants, pulling out a wallet but no car keys. Sad, he couldn't make it look like a car crash. "-- Mr. Bates." Steve read the ID in the wallet, pressing his lips together with a chuckle, "not anymore."
“Bates? That’s his name?” Neil gave an unbelieving laugh, giggles pouring out of him, quickly turning into hysterics, “Oh god. I’m sorry, it’s just. Like that one movie? American Psycho? Bates?” He covered his mouth with a trembling hand to quiet the chuckles forcing their way out of him, “Guess it’s not him that’s the killer this time, though.”
Steve loved hearing the laughter pouring out of Neil's mouth. It was sweet and gave Steve goosebumps just listening to it echo off the walls. He kind of forgot to give his name. He was still tied up in the blood and the blue of this man's eyes. "I'm Ste--no- uh Steve" Steve stumbled the words out of his mouth, giving Neil his real name with so much trust. His beautiful face was throwing Steve off his game.
Neil squinted at him, chuckles finally calming down a bit as he watched Steve work. “Steve,” he said slowly as if testing how the name tasted on his tongue. He must’ve approved because he nodded once before leaning back against the wall opposite to where he’d bashed the man’s head in and slid to the ground. He stretched his legs out, his foot just barely touching the body’s foot, and gave a little kick before letting his head thump back against the brick. “Well, what the fuck are we gonna do, Steve.”
"Well, I'm taking this man home with me" Steve rolled the guy in the plastic sheet just not to make a mess of his car. "Since this was not planned, I will have to figure out how to get rid of the body, but we will clean up the blood and…" Steve's eyes flicked over Neil's body as he sat on the ground, which made Steve let out a disappointed sigh "...and we will get you cleaned up at my house."
“You’re literally helping hide a murder right now,” Neil raised an eyebrow at him, weariness pulling his features down and narrowing his eyes, “Why, pray tell, the fuck should I trust you enough to get into your car?”
Neil was on edge, hackles raised and expecting the worst from Steve. He’d narrowly avoided being attacked already tonight and instead managed to become a murderer in that short amount of time.
“For one, you don’t have to trust me, and I don’t expect you too” Steve pulled a spray bottle out of the case. “But I’m the only chance you have right now” Steve kind of felt like he was
forcing Neil to come with him, but he wasn’t. If Steve wanted to have his way, Neil would have been knocked out and hogtied in the back of his car.
Steve started cleaning the blood off the walls taking his time even though no one probably came down here much unless they were also criminals.
Neil let his head thump back against the wall again, closing his eyes. His stomach was cramping with anxiety, and he still felt sick from earlier—the panic and disgust of being so vulnerable settled like lead in his chest.
“Maybe,” he peeked one eye open, lazily watching Steve scrub and spray at the chunky red mess on the wall, “Once I know for sure you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Neil still felt the fear clawing its way up from his chest, and yet in that mess of emotions, not one of them was guilt over what he had done. It had felt...right to kill him. Good, even.
Steve enjoyed the clean-up more than the kill itself; it added some kind of normal part to it for him. Steve never felt guilt but knew he wasn’t normal, but he didn’t care if he was. Steve looked back at the guy exhausted against the wall of the alley. “The anxiety will pass,” Steve mumbled, giving him a shy smile. “Then you will taste true freedom.”
Neil snorted, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “You sound like you’ve done this before, pretty boy. Run into a lot of murders, do you?”
Steve laughed. “I don’t run into a lot. It’s not like we have a club or anything,” Steve cleaned up the last bit on the wall before moving to where the body has been sitting. “But, I have done this before, 42 times counting helping you; I’ve even got a fancy killer name now.”
Neil’s eyebrows shot up, face sobering, “Really now?” He looked nervous. Funny almost, like there’s a difference between killing 42 or 1 with his bare hands. “And what would that be? How so many?”
Steve licked his lips as he looked up at Neil. “They call me the King; I haven’t been caught because I don’t kill in the same city twice in the same year. They only connected the dots a few months ago.”
Neil’s eyes grew big, mouth propping open as he took in the killer who had just started to take over just about every news story as of late. “Holy fuck. Bullshit.” he sat up against the wall, pushing up off of it to stride over to Steve as if getting a better look at the man would help him make the connection to a faceless serial killer. “And you’re helping me? Now?” his face screwed up in confusion, taking yet another step towards Steve, “Why?” he said quietly, peering into his eyes as if trying to find the answers to all the questions clogging his brain there.
Steve shrugged. “My life is boring, and you’re just the excitement I needed today.” Steve stood up and finally finished the rest of the work. He watched Neil check him out, trying to figure out what was not very hard if you knew how to look. “Do I scare you?”
Neil didn’t answer right away, keeping his intense eye contact and considering the question with a low hum. “No. You don’t.” He settled on, stating it firmly and with conviction. Steve was terrifying, but the shine in Neil’s eye confirms that he would rather die than let him know that.
Steve made a face when he looked interested more than he was before in Neil. "Well, come on then" Steve put his stuff away, closing the case up and handing it to Neil with a wink, "unless you want to get caught, that is" Steve smiled faded at the possibility that Neil could just say no and run, but Steve would make sure his actions had consequences.
Fortunately, it seemed Neil had better common sense than that and hesitantly stepped forward to take the case. “You look like you know what you’re doing. I’d rather take your lead than to spend the next 30 years in prison.” Neil replied in perfect deadpan. He wasn’t a fool—he knew what happens to boys like him if he was targeted before being in a building full of men with his being as pretty as he was… well, that’s just asking for trouble, isn’t it?
Steve smiled. "Smart boy." Honestly, Steve would have so much fun with this guy; maybe they would even kill together. Hmm, the idea of that, the excitement of it.
Steve picked up the body, throwing it over his shoulders like it was nothing to him--it was unfortunate he would have to get rid of his suit because of this. Hunting in clothes you wear is never a good idea with fibers getting everywhere.
"My car's not far."
Neil slowed, eying how easily Steve had manhandled a grown man’s dead weight. He wasn’t sure if that added to the intimidation or stirred something in him. Neil gave his head a slight shake before gripping the case in his hands tighter and following Steve back out to his car.
It was a fancy thing, sleek black and probably more expensive than Neil had ever owned or even touched.
Steve opened the trunk of the car and placed the body down into it. Honestly, all of this tonight made him yearn for another hunt, but he wasn't going on another trip for a few weeks.
Steve let out a sigh as he grabbed the case from Neil and put it in with the body, and removed the extra attire he was wearing.
"Get in the back seat. I already put a sheet down for you" Steve opened the back door like a gentleman. Steve wondered what Neil was feeling, how much excitement was kicking in? Did he feel good? Steve always enjoyed the thrill of it all, but he wanted to know how other people thought.
Neil pulled a face at his commanding tone, but climbed in anyway, face passive save for his ears’ tips that flushed a pretty red. “M, not a damn dog, yknow,” he mumbled out, although he understood the reasoning given the front of his shirt was splattered in blood.
He shuffled in, careful not to touch anything that wasn't the plastic sheet lining the inside of the car. “What’re you going to do with him?” he asked quietly, the meekest Steve’s seen him all night.
Steve got out into the car’s front seat and fixed his mirror to see Neil in the back seat, getting to see him in a slightly better light before the overhead light in the car went out as he turned the car on.
“Well, dump his body somewhere in a few days,” Steve smiled, thinking about how he could take credit for it. “Maybe cut something into his skin, take the top of his skull, and put it on my wall.”
It’s not something that’s been disclosed by the cops yet, at least not officially. Reporters have spread the news like cockroaches in hidden corners, whispering about how the serial killer King takes the crown of the victims’ scalps. It’s terrifying, really. Neil narrows his eyes a smidge.
“Why do you do it?”
Steve had never thought about why he did what he did; he only started doing it three victims into this game of his. Sometimes he does it when the people are still alive, watching the fear dripping from their eyes until the shock sets in.
“They don’t deserve a crown.”
Neil hummed, “Who deserves a crown, then?”
Steve pulled out of the parking spot, locking eyes with Neil in the mirror. “I do.”
Neil held his gaze—feeling trapped by Steve’s shockingly clear brown eyes, and yet he felt no struggle or want to break out of it.
Neil is prey. Interesting, pretty, entertaining prey.
And Steve was going to eat him alive just to force him to submit to him. To admit how scared he is of The King.
Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny
#stranger things#tw murder#Tw blood#fic writing#fic ideas#fic#billy hargrove#steve harrington#murderer steve#billy x steve#harringrove#sorry everyone
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Wormhole - Part 1
Pairings: eventual Peter Parker x reader
Warnings: Mentions of a car crash, angst, swearing
Synopsis: Y/N wakes up in a place she doesn’t know of, with a man claiming to be a god by her side. Superheroes don’t exist, right? In time, she finds out things about herself that she never knew before, and even gets to live with a hot guy, who happens to also be a crime-fighting hero. Will Y/N ever be able to go back home, or has she found it already?
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: Finally, I finished the first part of this new series. Sorry it took me so long, like I said, I have a continuity problem. FYI, this series will be set before and during FFH. This first chapter is set the winter after Endgame.
You swing your keys around your finger, walking through the snow outside of your high school. You just want to get to your car, get home, and take a nap. Sophomore year sucks. Everyone’s an asshole, and classes are way harder than they were freshman year.
You listen to the crunch of your feet in the snow, taking refuge in the sound. Much nicer to hear than the freshman boys screaming in the locker bay. You close your eyes, appreciating the coldness outside for once. It’s just too crowded in that hellhole of a school, and the openness outside feels amazing. You open your eyes, realizing that you probably look like a freak just standing outside in the snow. You blush, and continue walking.
After walking across the huge-ass parking lot to your car at the end of the parking lot, you fumble to get your keys and unlock your car. The one thing that sucks about having the first period off; you never get a good parking spot.
As you’re trying to unlock your piece-of-shit car, Abby, your friend from chemistry grabs your attention. She waves as she nears her own car, a nice black Jeep. You wish.
“Hey, Y/N, that test really sucked today, didn’t it? I swear, I totally failed it,” the junior says to you.
You breathe out a laugh, and nod your head in agreement.
“Yeah, it was a real tough one. Mr. Warener always puts stuff on the tests we never learned about.”
Abby laughs and starts to unlock her car.
“Well, I gotta get going, see ya tomorrow, Y/N.”
“Bye, Abby,” you say before she gets into her already started Jeep, likely already warm on the inside.
You slide into your car, and start it, rubbing your hands together. “Fuckin’ winter,” you whisper to yourself, buckling your seatbelt. You put your car in reverse, and drive out of the lot.
As you’re driving home, listening to your playlist from your phone, you think about how mundane your life is. You just wish your life was a bit more exciting. As the light turns green and you put your foot on the gas, you hear horns. You turn to your left and see a blue compact speeding straight for you. You scream, not even having any more time to react. Then everything goes black.
——————————————————————
Thor is just minding his own damn business getting ready to leave with the Guardians when one of his people comes knocking on his door. She says something about a girl popping up in the middle of the street, unconscious. He stops what he’s doing and looks at Margrethe, a look of ‘you’ve gotta be shitting me’ on his face.
“I don’t know, sir, she just came out of nowhere. People are scared, and she isn’t dressed like she’s from here. She’s young too. I don’t have any idea about what you could do, but it would ease everyone’s minds if you came down and took a look.” Margrethe is visibly shaken, likely having seen the appearance of the girl. These people had been through so much, they just deserve a little break.
Thor follows Margrethe down to the street in question, and sees the girl in the middle of the road, surrounded by confused Asgardians. When they see Thor, they move out of the way for him. He may not be their king anymore, but they still respect him as much as they do Valkyrie. He watched over them, how could they not?
He looks down at the girl in the snow. She looks young, young enough to be in school. Her Y/H/C hair is sprawled out on the ground, pointing in every direction. He leans down and scoops her limp form up in his arms, a place she looks so small in. He carries her to the nearest house, where he sets her down on a bed.
He watches her for a minute or two, trying to figure out what to do, when she shoots up screaming bloody murder. Thor jumps up, and approaches her, trying to calm her down. When she sees an enormous stranger of a man, who happens to look like a Viking, approaching her, she screams even louder.
“What are you doing? Who are you? Where am I?”
Thor pats his hands in the space in front of him, trying to tell her to calm down. She’s got tears streaming down her face. He’s taken aback by her American accent, expecting her to be from somewhere in Europe, given the fact that that’s where she is.
“I’m just trying to help, is all. I’m Thor, you’re in New Asgard,” he says, expecting her to know who he is. Her face contorts in confusion, and Thor sighs. He hates having to do this himself. “You know, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and all? Avenger, saved the world multiple times?” He watches her face, looking for any hint of recognition. Instead, all he finds is a look of incredulity.
She laughs, seeming to think this is some sort of sick joke. “Are you crazy? Just my luck. I get in a car crash, and I happen to get picked up by a psycho.” She shakes her head, too shocked and confused to think anything through.
“Look, I’m not crazy. I’m telling the truth, and there’s a whole village of people outside who could tell you the same thing. I just want to help you,” he says apologetically, approaching her with his arm outstretched.
The girl moves backward on the bed and throws her hands up. “Don’t touch me!” she screams, distracting Thor from the sound of a beer bottle raking it’s way across a table. The next thing he knows, something glass and hard hits his temple. He curses and looks down, only to find fragments of opaque brown glass scattered around his feet. He looks up at the girl, who seems just as shocked as he is.
“How did you do that?” he asks, maybe a bit too harshly. She flinches, her head moving slightly from side to side, rocking back and forth on the bed. She looks at him, a look of curiosity, yet fear embedded in her eyes.
“That couldn’t have been me. It can’t be. That’s not possible, it’s just impossible, things don’t move on their own!” She rocks back and forth harder, eyes overflowing with tears. Thor looks at her quizzically, not understanding.
“So you mean to tell me that you’ve never done that before?” She shakes her head, eyes watering. Thor tries to think of any possible explanation for this, and has an idea. “Did you get snapped? That might explain all of this,” he says, as calmly as he can, so as not to scare the girl. All he gets in return is another look of confusion. He figures they may have different names for it in different places, so he explains how half of the population disappeared for five years before coming back.
She throws her hands up and looks at him in an amused way, still thinking he’s batshit crazy.
“Look, dude, I have no idea what you’re high on, and given how stressed I am right now, I’d actually like to try some, but I’d just like to go home, and you can continue your fantasy with made-up gods and crazy aliens.”
Thor doesn’t even know what to say. There is no way this girl doesn’t know about the Snap. Even if she lived under a rock, she would know. He stands up and starts to walk towards the door, and the girl tenses.
“Where are you going?” she asks nervously. While she thinks this dude is on some crazy psychedelic drugs, she doesn’t want to be alone right now.
“You don’t believe me? Follow me outside and I’ll prove it to you, right now.” She hops off the bed, just wanting to see what kind of magical fuckery this dude is gonna pull.
When they get outside, the man, who she remembers called himself Thor, holds out his hand, as if wanting something to just magically appear there. She snorts, and he shoots her a look. Before she can tell him how stupid he looks, a big axe looking thing flies into his hand, and her jaw drops. She starts to ask him how he did that, but before she can get words out, he thrusts his axe hand up in the air, and lightning bolts down to it, his eyes glowing blue. She takes a step back, and before she knows it, the show is over. He grins, looking at her.
“Believe me now?” She slowly nods her head, and slides down the wall of the house to sit in the snow. Thor walks over, and sits down next to her. “What’s your name? Believe me, all I want to do is help you.” She turns her head to look him in the eyes.
“Y/N. My name is Y/N. But I really don’t think that’s important right now. What’s important is the fact that shit like that isn’t possible. There are no gods, there are no telekinetic powers, and there sure as hell wasn’t a five year period where half of life on earth ceased to exist.” Thor looks over at her, compassion in his eyes.
“Well, Y/N, I may know someone who can help us out. You’re American, am I correct?” She nods her head. “There’s an organization called SHIELD. They specialize in this type of thing. I have a good friend who works there, and he may be able to help you.” She gets an excited look in her eye.
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“His name is Nick Fury.”
#peter parker x reader#reader x peter parker#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel#thor odinson#spiderman ffh#avengers#endgame
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Starcrossed Losers 2.I (Josh Wheeler xF!Reader)
A/N: SURPRISE!! Who’s ready for season 2? Dunno how long this will be but I expect you enjoy it! -Danny
Words: 1,492
Warnings: Swearing
First Season // Next Chapter
[First scene, random Glendale street.]
The place is silent, not a Ghoulie in sight. Some mutant squirrels rummage through the garbage, they're starving. Not much has changed in Glendale since Principal Burr was defeated, not on the exterior at least. But we're about to see the real deal: A sound grows stronger in the distance. The squirrels look up, trying to locate the rumbling noise. Then, almost as if she materialized out of thin air, we see our protagonist skate at full speed out of the nearest alley, living her best life.
"Wooooo!" She gives a sharp turn in order to follow the main street, the squirrels scatter in outrage, abandoning their meal. Y/N doesn't notice.
The camera follows her for most of her trip, we see the empty houses as she passes without a second glance, a small group of stores and a garage that looks battered. She also glances at the abandoned private school, a slight frown appears on her face as she thinks to catch some shadow figure in one of the windows, but she doesn't stop to check.
[Time-skip]
We see her approach a group of kids around her age wearing some kind of armor. They look like trouble, but as she gets closer they receive her as another member of the group, even though she clearly doesn't look like one of them.
Y/N smiles and replies to every single one of their greetings as she skates through, she seems to have done this before.
Once in front of her old highschool her demeanor changes. She clears her throat and one hand blindly looks for the knife she keeps on her hip just in case. She walks inside.
Y/N keeps going, the kids that spot her wave and act as friendly as the ones outside, but now Y/N's nervousness has increased and as she gets closer to the biology classroom, she starts to get more and more serious.
The door is right there, and she's about to face her destiny. She opens the door and walks inside, a quiet 'Hi' makes its way out as the door closes behind her.
On the tempered glass of the door that moments ago was completely blank, now we find the title of our series:
Starcrossed Losers- Season Two.
[Queue voice-over]
Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
To be honest, I kind of wish you had. If that were the case, then it would've meant the rest of my untold story was my happy ending, regardless of what Sam had chosen to do with hers. It could've meant that there were no problems on sight and that Josh and I were destined to end together.
But you're here, and my story isn't over.
I'll take a wild guess and assume you want to know exactly how long and how many things have happened since the last time we talked. Well, it's been about what, five days? Yeah, a week tops since we defeated Burr and Sam took her rightful place -it was rightful, not gonna deny that- and us? Well, we hang in there.
Where do I start? Ah, of course, perhaps you'd like to know why I'm at the Highschool instead of the mall, that's easy.
After the small fight we had, the tribes' relationships kind of got ruined. It's hard to explain, but what happened was what always happens when some leader gets dethroned. In this case, this leader being Turbo, got kicked out and many kids thought it would be fun to throw their shot and try and do the same to Sam Dean, however, they weren't counting on how fucking sick her adviser is, this being Maya.
We Daybreakers knew, though. So we kept it to ourselves as we collected food and supplies, and now we're back in business. Everyone has their place, their part to play. Right now, I'm playing mine.
Apparently, people think I'm likable and social as well as creative and good-natured, so naturally, I had to be in a position where I get to convince leaders of other tribes to leave us alone. We trade things, usually clothing or Angelica's bright ideas, or- well, our medical supplies.
But the fucking jocks, dude. It's Maya's fault of course, I've been trying to make a deal for ages and they keep refusing all my offers because they insist is not enough. Because she insists is not enough, and Sam just agrees with her. I don't know what her plan is, but it certainly is my personal fucking hell.
So that's the reason I'm here, a new offer in my hands in hopes that I'll be able to go back to the mall with good news.
"Hi, Y/N," Sam smiles at me as if she hasn't turned down four of my offers already, "what do you have for us today?"
"Well," I rummage through the papers in my backpack, finding the notebook that contains all the deals I've made with all the tribes, "since you're not interested in the food or the medical supplies- without mentioning that your kids aren't interested in wearing something else besides their sports clothing-"
"It's comfortable," Mona replies dryly.
"...Sure," I sigh, "anyway, since none of those things are enough, I thought you might find the new update a bit more appealing."
Sam raises a brow, her smile unwavering.
"Go ahead."
"We finally managed to get the projectors working back in the movie theater," I say proudly, "and -word of the wise- Finders keepers. The cinema belongs to us."
"No way!" Sam says excitedly, straightening up in her chair.
"Yes," I admit, my tone unchanging, "we could allow you to use two rooms twice a week, as long as you stay away from our mall and our kids, obviously."
Sam bites her lip, though this time I'm a bit more certain she'll accept. No kid could ever deny to their tribe two nights at the movies. Bless Angelica and KJ for fixing the projectors and making the place run on solar panels.
Sam turns to look at Maya, who is lazily reading a magazine in the corner of the room. What an asshole. She raises her eyes with a careless stare, shrugging.
"We already have the American thingy going on-"
"But the movies, Maya!" Sam insists, "This could be good for the boys, it'd be a different way to deal with their emotions apart from the killing and the violence!"
Maya frowns, my smile remains the same cause now I know there's no excuse she can find to refuse our offer. I mean, it's the movies, who would say no to the movies?
"I suppose the food would be given by you?" She looks at me, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry?"
"The food, in the cinema?" She smirks. "We can't watch movies without food, that's what psychos do."
I clench my teeth, of course she was going to say that. She knows I can't just say yes, I can't give away things that are so valuable.
"I... could talk it over with the people in charge of the theater, see what we can do. We don't have that much food to give away, you know? I have to think of my tribe first."
Maya sneers at me but talks to Sam instead.
"You're the Queen," Maya replies, "it's up to you"
She sends a single deathly look in my direction before going back to her magazine. I look back at Sam and Mona, expectant. Sam stands up and holds out her hand for me to shake, I happily oblige, relieved about not having to come back here tomorrow.
"Oh! We do have a small petition, though," Sam adds once I let go of her hand.
I hold my breath, waiting for the worst.
"Yes?"
"It's nothing bad," She assures me. "We're doing a book of tribes here, for the future generations? And to keep things in order as well."
"That sounds... actually kinda cool. What is it about?"
"We send one of our boys to your tribe and you give them a little recap about who the leader is and what is it that you do, or if you have subdivisions and stuff. That way, if outsiders visit our city and want to stay, they can read the book and decide which tribes they want to apply to. You're allowed to say no, though. You're not obliged to appear in it, but we just thought it could be useful, and a nice way to create a legacy."
"That's so sweet," I beam at her, "you know, you really are a good leader"
"I try to be," She smiles.
"I'll talk about it with my tribe and I'll make sure to send our reply by the end of the week, is that cool?"
"Sure," Sam sits back. "Have a nice day, Y/N."
"Bye!"
I'm afraid to say it, but perhaps... things are going well?
God, I hope I'm not wrong.
Taglist.
@letsbe-queer @slythermyg @loving-u-3000
A/N: Dunno when will I post the next part, but I figure I’ll give you guys time to tell me whether if you still want to be part of the taglist (or if you want to be added, pls let me know!)
#twoidiots writing#daybreak fanfic#daybreak#josh wheeler xreader#josh wheeler#Starcrossed fic#sam dean#mona lisa#netflix
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Steve Harrington x Reader - Part 1 : Code Orange
Prompt: The scene takes place after the events of season 3. You are Erica and Lucas babysitter and you find out the kids are sneaking out of the house to spend time with Steve Harrington.
Disclaimer : we don’t own any of this gifs/photos (credits to the owners)
Enjoyyyyy :)
It was the end of the summer. 1985, a hell of a year. Weird stuffs had happening during the past few months. Dead people, chemical leaking, and the mysterious destruction of Starcourt in only one night. Hawkins had become the center of attention of all Americans after that. But it didn’t last for long. The reporters were already packing their stuffs and leaving the town. Soon children would go back to school and no one will remember anything. Like Always. It wasn’t a problem for you, peace and quiet were all you ever wanted. You were trying to make money before going back to college, by keeping an eye on your neighbors’ children, the Sinclair. To be honest, Erica was a pain in the ass sometimes, she couldn’t stop talking and complaining all day long saying she was too old for a babysitter. How old was she exactly? 7 years old? And her brother, Lucas, was a weird little kid, playing with his talkie walkie 24/7. Annoying af, or maybe you’d just forget how it was to be a kid. Now everything was all about money, having a car and a job. Yeah, maybe talkie walkie was better finally...
On this hot day of August you were listening to Fresh by Kool & the Gang with your brand-new walkman. Your feet were following the rhythm, skating on Sinclair’s carpet with your rollerblade. Being paid for this was not that bad. The children were spending half of their time in their bedrooms, not bothering you. Four hours left and you could go to the roller rink to skate for real, you thought, looking at the clock on the wall.
Suddenly above the music you heard a strange sound upstairs. You stopped the music and took your headphones off.
- Erica, Lucas, is everything okay? you called
Please, please tell me they haven’t broken anything, not again, you silently prayed. But no one answered your question.
- Hello, I am talking to you!!
Still nothing and now you had to go upstairs to check if everything was okay. God, you would never have children. You knocked on Lucas’s door, but once more no one answer.
- I am coming in. I swear if you...
You stopped talking. The bedroom was empty. A comic book was opened on the bed, but Lucas and his bloody talkie walkie were gone. Same thing in Erica’s bedroom. Were they trying to play hide-and-seek with you or something?
- Hm, okay. I bet you are under the bed, you said
You kneeled but found no one under the bed. No one in the wardrobe. No one behind the door. You moved to the window and checked the curtain. No one. But wow interesting, the window was open and here they were, running on the grass of their garden. A car was parked a few meters away and a man you couldn’t identify was waiting for them.
- What the hell, you mumbled as the Sinclair was getting in the car
What the hell? WHAT THE HELL? The car was now leaving and you couldn’t move from this window. Who was this bloody man? What if he was kidnapping them? You started to panic. But the car was gone. Now, you were screwed.
You spent the worst two hours of your life after this. You had the phone in your hands, shaking, but it was like you couldn’t move, like you couldn’t do anything but wait. Obviously, the perfect babysitter would have called the cops. But you couldn’t admit to yourself that you’d failed that much at your job. The Sinclair, the cops, your mom, every soul in this town would know you as the girl that let two innocent children in the hands of some kind of rapist or total psycho and didn’t do anything.
And then, like in a magic show, the car reappeared. Lucas and Erica ran back to the house laughing, safe and sound. You heard them climbing to their window distinctly and then it was the silence again. You could still hear the beat of your heart, tho. But your hands weren’t shaking anymore. Damn kids. They better talk.
***
The Sinclair was looking at you, both worried and amazed.
- Come on take a sit, I made waffles for you, you said with a bright smile
- But aren’t we going to eat with mom and dad in less than one hour? asked Lucas confused
- Don’t worry. You can eat whatever you want. I won’t tell your parents.
After a second of hesitation, the siblings started to eat voraciously.
- It’s good, isn’t it? you asked
- Delicious, answered Erica with her mouth full of food
- So delicious that I deserve a reward, don't you think?
- Sure...
- Okay… So you better tell me where you’ve been all afternoon. In details, you said with a deep and sinister voice.
Both of them choked with their waffle before turning to each other, with a grave and troubled glance. Wow, you were actually scaring those kids, you thought proudly.
- Did you saw us?
- Well yes. And I need an explanation, right now. Or maybe you prefer talking about this with your mom...
- No, no, no, please, said Erica
One more threat and they were done.
- Okay, hm don't worry we were just watching a film at Mike’s. In his basement, said Lucas trying to calm the situation.
His sister nodded.
- And I guess you can’t watch a film at home? And you can’t ask me permission? Can you imagine how worried I was? I almost called the cops! you screamed
- Sorry, mumbled Erica
- Yeah sorry, and who was this guy in the car?
- Steve Harrington, he works at Video Family and he gives us such cool film every week. This is so...
- Every week? What do you mean every week? This is not the first time?
Lucas was now having trouble swallowing his own saliva. This situation was insane. These two had been sneaking out for weeks… with Steve Harrington. Like Steve Harrington from high school, the popular guy that all the girls wanted.
- Well, you two saved your ass for this time. Tomorrow I will go to Video Family and talk to Steve. But I warn you, if his explanations don't satisfy me, your mom will know.
For a more dramatic look, you took back the waffles from the table. The look on their faces was hilarious. Damn, having so much power was cool.
The next day you kept your promise and went to Video family. The children didn’t lie, Steve was there at the welcome desk with another girl from your high school, Robin.
- Hello...
-... Welcome to...
-... Video Family...
-... How can we help you?
Robin and Steve looked pretty proud of their intro. You struggled to contain your laughter.
- I would like to have a moment with Steve please. Alone, you asked gently
Robin opened two round eyes, a little surprised, even shocked. But she stepped back.
- Good luck, dingus, she whispered.
- Hm, so what is happening Y/N? asked Steve.
- Oh nothing crazy, you know. Just you, stealing MY kids to drive them to some random house the other day.
Boom. There it was the same look on his face than the one of Lucas and Erica the day before. You caught Robin looking at you but she quickly turned her head.
- At first I thought you were some kind of pedophile, but…
- Holy hell, no, no, no. I can explain, I swear, said Steve interrupting you
- Steve, what kind of person goes to a basement with little kids?
- The way you phrase your sentence make it weird... But we were just watching a film. You know, star wars the one with the little bears.
Steve started to imitate the sound of a laser sword, without success.
- Okay, well I should have told you, he finally admitted
- Yeah indeed. I am sorry, but I have to tell Mrs.Sinclair and I am pretty sure you won’t be allowed to approach her children after that...nor any other child in this town.
- Wow, wow, wow wait a second. I am sure we can find a deal, said Steve with a bit of panic in his voice
To be fair, he sounded honest and Steve Harrington was not the kind of person that was dangerous for children. It was just strange. And a bit funny, King Steve wasn’t usually struggling to get his way.
- Go on, impress me, you said
- Okay, okay let me see... I ask you on a date. Saturday night, you good?
- What do I win?
- Well a date with me, duh, said Steve pointing at his chest
You rolled your eyes. That was presumptuous. You were about to tell him to shut up and when a bunch of kids entered the video club yelling.
- CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! screamed a teenager with a cap
- Henderson what is...
- Code orange Steve let’s go!! said the kid once more
You noticed Lucas and Erica behind him.
- Y/N, what are you doing here? asked Lucas
- Making a deal, you answered
But Steve wasn’t interested in you anymore. He caught his keys on the desk and started following the troop with Robin.
- Hm, excuse me, where do you think you are going? you asked
- Listen, Y/N it’s urgent, can we talk about this later?
- Hm... No
- CODE ORANGE! CODE ORAN...
- I KNOW, yelled Steve at Henderson
- You are not going anywhere with the Sinclair, do you hear me? you added
- Ok, fine, come with us then. But I don't want to hear you complaining, said Steve reluctantly.
You gave him the finger but followed him. That’s not exactly how you wanted to spend your afternoon but after all it was a code orange.
#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington#stedit#stranger things#stranger things imagine#joe kerry#robin#robin stranger things#steve harrington x reader#imagine#dustin henderson#Lucas Sinclair#erica sinclair#mike wheeler#eleven#el#maxine hargrove#max hargrove#milly bobby brown#finn wolfhard#gaten mazzarato#caleb mclaughlin#sadie sink#noah schnapp#will byers#maya hawke#hawkins#starcourt
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SG1
STARGATE : CONTINUUM
Notes by me
- we open with a nice space shot. Very good very good
- sgc! MAJOR DAVIS 😃
- there they are!!! ☺☺ my kids
- theyre going to see Jack 💞💞
- vala!! Nice gun 😳
- damn she really went thru some stuff with the goaulds huh
- that city is HUGE
- Baal????? Oh for fucks sake
- jack!!! I missed u babe
- where did vala go?? Just....disapeared
- I missed jacks not caring attitude and sarcastic comments
- "we get rid of the last bad guy and then theres cake"
- did Baal do something to vala
- oh interesting. We are in the 30s now. I am highly confused
- old cam???? I dont know whats going on
- the name on the box is Langford and the noise is clearly a gate. Is this the earth gate in the past
- baal! Wait so hes been here since the 30s?
- tealc just disappeared what is going on
- JACK UH UH NO HELLO??? TELL ME HE DIDNT JUST DIE
- cam having to drag Sam and Daniel away from jacks body 😭😭😭
- what is going on!!!!!!
- old cam saves the boat! Just hurled the bomb into the sea lol
- uh oh the gate took them to the old boat
- I was right its the earth gate ☺
- Sam being in shock about Jack 😢😫
- oh smart Daniel found a clue
- when in doubt blow it up!
- "you wanna go back?"
"No I'm good"
- oh??? Daniel whump??? Hello frostbite
- the team members are just falling one by one
- "oh shit" did they make this movie just so Daniel could swear
- people?? In this frozen wasteland?
- alternate!Jack
- did they pick up Daniel pls say yes
- they did!
- hes high as a kite 😂
- they have to amputate his leg? Oh no :(
- "I'm the closest thing you have to a best friend" UUHHH????
- jacks kid is still alive 😢
- "these freaks" calm down Jack
- yea they just wanted Daniel to be able to say shit
- landry! I was expecting hammond
- he seems fishy I dont trust him
- "I assume in your timeline youre not a discredited wack job?"
"That depends on who you ask"
- love how the franchise always calls back to when Daniel was a believer that the pyramids were landing pads for aliens 😂😂
- that was cams grandpa on the boat! Very interesting
- one legged Daniel is.......something
- oof all this hurts 😫 theyre separating them and I dont like it
- a whole ass year later?????
- Daniel looking at a book and seeing his own crazy looking face on the back
- cams farm :(
- Daniel calling himself??? "You have to have more faith in yourself" 😭😭😭😭😭😭 THAT SHIT HURTED
- ugh its about time Baal showed up. Who is this lady with him. It better not be sha're I cant take that
- tealc bae💖💖
- its been a long time since ive heard "sholva"
- VALA OH MY GOD I did not expect that
- hammond!!!
- "okay bye!" Daniel I love you
- "someone with the gene" here comes jack!
- Baal kept a cellphone lmfao
- holy shit he just got impaled ok I guess vala is the bad guy
- oh damn shes evil. Finally a goauld that portrays how psycho these things are
- fuck she just sliced him in half ok shes really scary
- there goes Washington :(
- "the russians have another"
"Helloooo"
Daniel just LOVES being right
- "how many on our 6?"
"Too many!"
Backseat Daniel is great
- "we're americans! Please shoot the people chasing us!"
- Daniel just knew it was Quetesh lol
- woa big time machine
- go back to the cretacious! Go see some dinos!
- well daniels dead. Again
- and sam! And tealc what the fuck
- "I die free" 😫😫💖💖💖💖💖
- oh get bombed!!!
- cam had to wait 2 years until the boat incident??? God what the hell
- HEAD SHOT
- death to all worms!!!!
- it worked! Theyre all ok :)
- "when was the last time Jack bought dinner?"
"Good point"
- wait I'm confused. Did cam live out his life in the 30s or did he get sent back to the present? None of them remember. Since cam didnt die in the alternate timeline I'm wondering if he got to go back at all.
Oh well 🤷 at least everythings back to normal
#stargate#movies#stargate season 10#now for more atlantis!#daniel frostbite - jack death - emotional sam and daniel#whump
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Morose Mononokean II 4 - 7 | Mob Psycho 100 II 4 - 7 | My Roommate is a Cat 4 - 6 | Double Decker! EX 1 | Egao no Daika 5 - 7 | Shield Hero 4 - 6 | Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka 4 - 6 | Royal Tutor movie
Morose Mononokean II 4
Aw, another little fuzzball to steal away my heart? I’m being spoiled, aren’t I?
For some reason, this episode was meant to be really emotional, but I felt pretty restless while watching it. Probably because I was thinking about playing Merc Storia all that time.
Mob Psycho 100 II 4
Didn’t expect Shinra to be back after his previous appearance…
Notably, you’d expect Matsuo’s name to have the kanji for “pine tree” in it, but it doesn’t - it has the kanji for “demon” and then one more.
I loved it when FLCL and SGRS went into manga mode, but for some reason, the transition into manga mode didn’t land as well here…hmm.
“I’ll go inside her…With an out-of-body experience.” - That sounds majorly wronggggggggggg, Mob, y’know? Even with context.
I find it interesting Mob perceives himself to be naked…as in, unguarded. He’s fine as he is and doesn’t need to change…in some ways, anyway. He could probably do with a few more emotions, but you get what I mean.
Wha-wha-wha-whoaaaaaaaaa. You mean, Mogami just got rid of Mob’s powers??? That is a nasty cliffhanger!
My Roommate is a Cat 4
Just seeing Hiroto near Kawase’s armpit…so unfazed…it’s kinda funny, but only mildly.
Tuxedo cat…ergh. The differences between American and British English never ceases to trip me up…I mean, the term makes sense…it’s just the differences between the types of English I’m annoyed at.
If you observe the OP, you’ll see Haru has that collar…I’m not sure if that’s meant to be a spoiler then…
Haru basically has the mindset of Kaguya and Shirogane, which makes this hilarious (and yet it’s still justified due to being a believable mindset for a stray!).
S-Smug dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get out of the way of Haru-chan!
Shield Hero 4
“Draw your swords!” – Wasn’t there a rule saying Naofumi can’t use a sword anyway? Plus, Motoyasu has a spear, not a sword…
Balloon? Now, that’s funny!
Using magic to intervene is the cowardly action, methinks, Myne.
I find it interesting Naofumi sees Raphtalia as a little girl – it’s a perception of vulnerability, potentially weakness – when things are shown through his perspective.
Falling Through Starlight is beautiful, y’know that? Be-a-uuuuuuuuuuu-t-i-ful!
Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka 4
Interestingly, Francine kinda looks like Mami (Madoka Magica).
Wait, is this woman Miura? (Sorry, I’m just wondering why Abigail – the blonde evil magical girl – would choose to use yakiniku to threaten people…)
Oh dear…it’s that train question (save one or save many).
Neding authority before you can actually do anything legal…now that sounds like Double Decker.
“Chef”? I was mortified when it came to the rusalka scene…but I think we already know why Povar is a chef…
CQC? Close quarters combat? Ooh, I’ve never heard it abbreviated before.
Well, I like how Povar and Rusalka Man (can’t spell Russian to save my life) always keep their salaries in mind. Makes them easier to see as evil.
Egao no Daika 5
Oh, this series has two moons? Kind of like Double Decker’s two suns, yeah?
I just realised Lily’s the only one with a skirt on her suit…
Morose Mononokean II 5
I don’t think I’ve seen a Fuzzy-centric episode ever since the first time we met the furball…
That hand on neck thing is apparently a CIA technique if I interpreted it right…just, it’s applied to a purple/white lion, so it’s hard to tell whether it’s the real thing…
Fluffy tadpole is best tadpole. All fluffy things are cute to me, even the lethal ones…I guess.
Seriously, if someone doesn’t call the animation of the Executive sakuga, I don’t know sakuga! That crow is some fancy animation!
Hanae’s mother is scarier than most youkai, given she can give me a nasty jump scare!
Mob Psycho II 5
This episode’s called Discord…which maks me think of the chat program of the same name…weird, huh?
Notably, it’s Dimple’s voice coming from Mob’s mouth…hmm.
That episode was real cool…it’s too bad by turning off the volume at the wrong time, I missed the Sajou no Hana song…
My Roommate is a Cat 5
Roku, Nana, Hachi…haha.
I noticed Haru has smaller eyes than Hachi…aside from the collar of course.
Aw…reunion too cute. I honestly think that this show has a fairly effective use of “filling in the gaps”, as it were, and thus making good use of cuts.
Double Decker! EX 1
Yep, we’re back with Double Decker!!! I’m glad to see it back, really.
Wait…ohhhhhhhhh. So Double Decker! doesn’t just refer to the bus in this show or the system. It means “2 Detectives” in Japanese (in a codeswitching sort of way). It was wordplay all along! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! I get it now!
This Deana assassin stuff must be a lie…
(after the commercial break) C’mon, Kirill, buddy. You’re drunk, y’know that, right…? Right??? Update: Oh, not drunk, dreaming. My mistake.
Oh, I was just saying that My Roommate is a Cat dos a nice job “filling in gaps”. Didn’t realise Double Decker did it as well. Also, how the heck is Doug unpopular with women???
So…Kirill actually got hired based on his feminine looks? Geesh, that Travis…
The thing I missed about this show was not being able to play the ED after an episode, so I’m glad to have it back!
Spec Ops Asuka 5
Having Kurumi fix up Nozomi’s arm kind of erases the consequences…but that’s what Kurumi’s for, right?
Barber Scissors…? Is this what happens when you take Kill la Kill way too seriously?
Wowee. Din’t think Sacchuu was capable of dealing nasty punches as well.
There’s gotta be some sort of parallel between Abigail and the queen vs Asuka and Kurumi…
Post-credits segment. Keep watching.
Shield Hero 5
Headbutt to the nuts! Oof!
When it comes to races, the one tune that comes to mind is one from the Dog Island (track 22 from this YouTube playlist).
I swear there was CGI during the race…on Filo.
Please don’t make jokes about Naofumi liking lolis, people. This is not that type of show…
Mononokean 6
Is it just me, or has this epiode been relying on the use of blue speech bubbles for humour more than normal?
It’s Mononokean: Sports Anime edition!
For some reason, I find the name “trashboat” hilarious. It was probably just “ponkotsu” (piece of trash) in practice, but the variation in English is really something to behold…
Ashiya sleeps like an old man, LOL. It must be cosy in that bed…
Moja is just adorable in whatever scene it appears in! Even Moja being dragged down a stream is cute~!
Relaxing your shoulders, huh? That reminds me that that’s a destress technique I haven’t used in a while. My head’s been spinning while I was trying to watch this episode, so I should probably get back to trying to do that stuff…after this episode, of course.
Price of Smiles 6
You think Spec Ops Asuka looks bad? Look at Price of Smiles melt in this “Yuni! You should recover!” scene.
For some reason, this one dude (I forget his name) being a father surprises me. He looks like the type to be single…
The female version of the name “Noel” is Noelle…get that right, people!
Layla’s right when she says one of the main causes of war is the struggle for resources and wealth.
Mob Psycho II 6
I noticed instead of a Mac or something, the computer is a “One” computer.
The board says something a lot more complicated than Saitama’s routine…which means One likes exercise. Maybe…probably.
“Codomo” phone, LOL.
The last time I heard of tofu in anime that I remember…was Boueibu. Something about Ryuu killing a man with tofu.
Somehow it didn’t occur to me until the eyecatch was over but the block…was tofu!
How do you even get drunk when there’s no alcohol in the drink??? (LOL)
Oh! Shinra again!
…Also Jodo Kirin!
Shield Hero 6
Naofumi is giving 0 f**ks about the dressmaker’s love of Filo.
Why is Filo CGI…? It looks unnerving, to be honest with you.
My Roommate is a Cat 6
Eleventh grade…16? 17? Heck, Yugo looks 27, not 17!
Notably, “Comic Polaris” is the name of the magazine that publishes the manga of this. Hence “Novels Polaris”.
Heck, Subaru. In the internet age in particular, people write to affect others. I should know, as someone who did just that just a few years ago!
Oushitsu Kyoushi Heine movie
Yay, we’re back! Crunchyroll bringing over movies is definitely increasing my workload for these commentaries, so with all the new things I’ve added to my lists of priorities as of late, I wonder if I can keep up…
Hitting us with CGI in the first minute of the movie…oh man, how far does CGI go these days???
Honestly, in my brain Wagner (Classicaloid) = the twins (this movie) = the Beppus (Boueibu LOVE! LOVE!). They’re very similar in terms of personality…
In the same way, Bruno = Schubert from Classicaloid (but swap one’s Sensei for the other’s Senpai).
Licht = Motz.
It seems like someone liked ponytail!Licht enough to keep him here. So it really wasn’t just me, huh?
Seriously, what’s this “God of War” stuff anyway???
Man, vocal exercises? This takes me back to my piano-playing days…I was a sightreader and only had to do one of the two (out of sightreading and vocal stuff), but there was someone else who had to do both.
This piano is bugging me. Its white keys are black and its black keys are white!
Somehow, Heine’s small top hat suits him. It’s probably because he wears a small beret in that same position usually.
More CGI background characters…*sigh*
Hmm…soft power at its finest(?)
Seriously though, why did that evil Duke guy appear in this movie again??? He has zero use plotwise. Sure, he was important in the first season and if we ever get a second he’ll be important there, but here? Nada!
Have you noticed Heine is in all those dance positions a girl would normally be in??? Hmm! Interesting! But still…if there’s one thing I ever missed from the anime’s experience, it would be-oh, scratch that! This is my cue to watch the cheesy live-action dance ending! I missed it so much!
Egao no Daika 7
Seriously…who is Eins talking to??? Whose emperor???
They still haven’t revealed what this new guy’s name is, even after his introduction…well, technically he was introduced at the River Deese, but we still didn’t learn his name then. (Did we?)
Spec Ops Asuka 6
Is Mia just this show’s version of Kyouko (from Madoka Magica, but American of course)???
Oooooookay, that (with the kissing and stuff) is so not what foreigners are like, people…
Oh, goodness. Have I really been living with this stuff (girl x girl teasing, with Kurumi in particular being one of the more extreme examples I’ve seen) in my magical girl anime for years now? I mean, Suite PreCure is laced with the stuff…
If ordinary rigor mortis business is at work, then I’d say the heater is to speed up the rotting of the corpse…
LOL, there’s Halloween-class…and then there’s Voorhees-class…how appropriate for Disas.
“Only one of the Magical Five would’ve known about that phrase.” – My bets are on Peipei, but we’ll find out for sure…someday.
Mononokean 7
As much as I found the pillow fight scene with Fuzzy in it funny, I swear Abeno is a bit too sadistic for my own good. What is it with some women and their sadistic kinks…?
Abeno calling Ashiya “hunk of junk” makes me think Ashiya isn’t much of a Sousuke (from Classicaloid), but they do have a lot of similar character traits, now that I think of it…hmm.
For some reason, I think Abeno knew the conditions of the deal and what the deal entailed in advance, hence the training camp.
Seiza…means sitting on the floor in the position Ashiya was in (knees to the floor etc).
Mob Psycho II 7
“Cheeseburger Tornado”, LOL.
When Reigen got angry at the TV, I was just like, “It’s Shield Hero (Mob Psycho version)!” I.e. you con the conman and not turn the conned into a conman…or something like that.
Those microphones are so obviously CGI, people…
I know I’m a fan of Yuzuru Tachikawa, but episode 5 actually didn’t do too much for me, to be honest (even though it was visual spectacle, which is Tachikawa’s strong suit). However, while episode 7 looked less punchy overall, it was miles better…
“First-press limited edition? That is the absolute best decision.” – What is that referring to??? Update: It’s referring to the BDs...or DVDs...or both.
Update: Forgot to add Double Decker to the title and tags.
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Anger is a Voice (Dark!Rafael Barba x Reader AU)
A/N- This was my first time writing something so dark. You can thank @unleashthemidnight for the brilliant idea. My sweet baby Barba would never be a murderer or would he just not get caught.
City prosecutors are supposed to get justice for the victims, not create them. It was your own fault. You had made the mistake. He had to punish you, he couldn’t let you get away with shattering his heart. He tried to let you repent quietly, but it was too silent and he wanted noise. He wanted to hear you scream and beg for his forgiveness. Of course, this was possible with the barrel of a revolver pressed heavily against your forehead.
A major part of passing the American Bar Associations test is your mental sanity and capacity. Having both is great, but having only one is even better. He’s not usually a killer, preferring to use his psycho smarts by demolishing defense attorney’s arguments. But it was you that broke him. Your beauty, your sass, your defiance, it fractured his good guy cover and unleashed the evil lurking inside. You were not innocent in this murderous game, you promptly started it. It began with your disrespect, your dismissal of his heroic actions.
“It’s not like you’re a surgeon or whatever. I could do your job in my sleep.” as you said the damaging words he felt his blood bubble and anger spill over the top. He kept it sheltered though, not wanting to lash out and let the red monster inside scare you. He trusted too easily, trusted that your words were just a slip of the tongue. The psycho inside though told him to do differently.
“You must punish this girl for her apparent ignorance and stupidity!” it screamed at him with a fury that would scare Satan if it were possible. The rage inside stayed dormant, but not completely still as you kept pushing buttons, almost causing it to float to the surface. Your final action was what caused it to shoot through the top and flow out rapidly. You cheated. Oh, God! It hurts even now to think about it. He went through some of the stages of grief, mourning over the loss of your love. His process seemed to jump right to anger, inviting his friend from before up for a visit.
“Quit those tears, Rafael. We are going to give this girl a place in the game of forgiveness.” he huskily whispered to himself in the mirror while fiddling with the revolver in his hand. He called your phone in his regular monotone voice, you knew he had been on the depressed side recently. You made a mistake, you would admit to it. You were not the nicest to him and demoted the precious work he did for society. He was also to blame, for getting into a relationship with someone like you, you were always honest. To be completely honest, it was his boyish credulity that made you stay. He always saw the best in everyone or tried too hard to find it. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying to make up for the goodness he lacked and hoped no one was like him, and if they were to punish them. Rafael’s ego was big enough to know that he didn't need to be punished for his evils but small enough that he stayed with you, even while you tore at his weakened self-esteem. He walked up the stairs to your apartment, with each step giving himself an egotistical complement. He tried to knock confidently in fear of you sensing the insecurities oozing out of his skin. His evil grin was the first thing you saw, but the gun in his hand was the second.
“Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness,” he said calmly as he pressed the gun to your forehead so hard you felt it imprinted on your skin. You started to sob out as you realized your fate was in the hands of a literal demon.
“Oh Please, Rafael! I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to! He meant nothing, I swear!” you cried out as he towered above you with a devilish smirk.
“ She’s only saying it because of the gun, you fool. The witch is lying. Kill her! Kill her now!” and with that final command from the voice inside, he pulled the trigger so hard, he felt the ground shake. He witnessed the life leave her evil eyes and oh did it feel so good. He might just do it again.
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Announcing the 2020 Winners of the Insider Prize https://ift.tt/2DNkREu
For the last three years, American Short Fiction has sponsored a contest for incarcerated writers in Texas. A group of writers at the Connally Unit, in Kenedy, Texas, came up with the name: The Insider Prize. Each year we get dozens of essays and short stories from men and women in prisons and jails across the state, some handwritten and others produced on typewriters. They tell stories about their lives before prison, about the conditions inside, and about the many places their imaginations take them.
This year’s award is marked, like so much in our world these days, by tragedy.
Back in April, as we prepared to share the good news with the winners and finalists, we learned that finalist Timothy Bazrowx had died at a prison hospital after testing positive for COVID-19. He was 63. As the virus continues to rip through shockingly ill-prepared prisons and jails, the men and women inside remain especially vulnerable. Bazrowx knew this—he wrote to one correspondent that in prison, “sickness runs like a crazy horse through a flower bed.”
Through three books and countless shorter pieces, Bazrowx had cultivated an incisive, vivid, and frequently hilarious style, which he didn’t abandon even as his home became a deathtrap. As the virus spread in his prison, officers threatened to punish his peers for going shirtless in a common area. “The world is dying and these bastards want us to be fully dressed to see it happen,” he wrote. “Geewiz.”
It is with his unique spirit, of smiling while speaking truth to power, of finding joy in the face of horrors both natural and manmade, that we present this year’s winners, along with Bazrowx’s own submission.
The winners were selected by guest judge Justin Torres, whose award-winning 2011 novel We the Animalshas proven popular among writers behind bars.
In the fiction category, Torres selected “That Place on Daniel Island” by F.R. Martinez. Martinez also won in the fiction category last year, when Joyce Carol Oates selected his story “Mother’s Son.” This new piece is told entirely in dialogue, and Torres wrote that it “feels so alive, to not just the syntax and rhythms of everyday speech, but also to the very need for dialogue itself. Talking is a way to both dig up trouble, and put it to rest. The two characters are talking from two very different sides of a shared experiences—marriage, incarceration—and the effect is quite moving.”
In the memoir category, Torres selected “The Promise” by Steven Perez. “What I loved most about this piece,” Torres wrote, is “that the story moves beyond the narrative of the gruesome attack that serves as the inciting incident to raise important questions about witnessing, responsibility, codes of conduct, failed guardianship—all the systemic issues that foster and allow for prison violence. It is tremendously well written.”
The memoir runner-up this year was “My Time Paradox,” by Jacob Jills, which Torres called a “real achievement in prose style” that “provoked an eerie claustrophobic feeling while reading.” The fiction runner-up this year was “Classic Rock,” by John Rodgers, which Torres called “troubling, funny, and hazed with a kind of dreamlike nostalgia.”
We hope you enjoy this year’s winners.
—Maurice Chammah & Emily Chammah
So I said to her ‘Let’s go to that place over on Daniel Island where we used to go.’ And she said ‘What place?’ I said ‘You know, that place that was kinda like a beach bar or something.’ ‘Beach bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You mean the bagel place? The one that had the everything bagels?’ ‘No, no. Well— is that still there? We used to go there.’ ‘They only open for breakfast and lunch. Not dinner.’ So I said ‘I mean that place that had the jukebox with that Billy Joel song we like.’ ‘Juke box?’ ‘And there was a bar in the front, even though it was always half empty. They had good burgers.’ ‘You don’t mean the hotel? The restaurant in the hotel where we went with Nick and his wife before they broke up?’ ‘Damn. That must be like twenty years ago. No. Is that still there? I don’t even remember how to get there.’
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‘Well, I’ll drive.’ ‘I sure would like to go to the other place though. I used to think of it when I was down for some reason.’ ‘Really. Were the burgers THAT good?’ ‘No. I mean they were good but—I don’t know I just liked the place because it was so laid back, so peaceful, so—Charleston. I mean, I know there was no beach there on Daniel Island, but when I remembered that place it felt like there shoulda been one nearby, like right down the road or something. It’s hard to explain, but when you’re locked up a place like that just seems like heaven, you know? To be away from everything. . . ’ ‘There’s that other place on Daniel Island over there by where we used to live.’ ‘That’s right. I forgot we lived on the island for a few months when they were building our house.’ ‘Over there in the mall, where the Ross was,’ she said. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s gone now. It’s been gone for like–I don’t know—ten years?’ ‘Ten years—’ ‘You were gone a long time.’ ‘Yeah. I barely recognized that part over there when we come into our neighborhood off the highway. That used to be a Piggly Wiggly over there.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What happened to the Blimpie’s?’ ‘That’s gone. Been gone.’ ‘I was down a long time, but I bet that place on Daniel Island is still there. Maybe with a different name and a different owner.’ ‘Maybe. But don’t have to go there. There’s lots of new places. There’s one by Folly Beach. I’ve gone there with Tina and Rosemary.’ ‘Rosemary?’ ‘Yeah. She used to work with me at Bosch, remember? She retired before I did.’ ‘I didn’t think you were friends with people from Bosch, I mean except for Dennis.’ ‘Dennis died two or three years ago. I don’t remember exactly when. You know how memory is. I didn’t go to the funeral. It was too sad.’ ‘I remember you told me he died. . . on the phone.’ ‘You’ve been gone a long time, baby.’ ‘I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I used to hear people in prison talk about their lives outside. I’m talking about people with fifteen and twenty year sentences. They had a long way to go, and they’d just started. I used to wanna say to them: listen, forget that life, man. It’s over. But I did it too, talked about my life, you know, with you and the kids here. But that was at first. After a couple of years, I stopped that. I didn’t talk to anybody. What for? People left. Or they got transferred to other prisons. Or they died. What was the use of trying to make friends, to get close to anybody.’ ‘You used to talk to me on the phone about your ‘friends.’’ ‘That was nothing. Just people I met. People to hang out and bullshit with, people to bitch about the conditions and whatever was going on. There’s no real friendship in there. The place is like a bus station, or an airport. Anyway, it’s illegal to contact other ‘felons.’’ ‘Is that what you are now? A felon?’ ‘No. I’m still me. I’m still the same guy you married.’ ‘No. You’ve changed.’ ‘You’ve changed, too. I mean, c’mon, thirteen years. I swear. I thought I was gonna die in there. I had one celli who was a psycho, another one was a drug addict, another one almost killed me with B.O. Another was a pest, always begging for attention, bugging me with his problems. And then you had that stroke. I thought you were gonna die. The kids wouldn’t answer their phones.’ ‘I know. That must’ve been terrible.’ ‘More terrible than you think. I thought I’d have nobody left when I got out, you know? And then I used to think you didn’t forgive me—for what I did.’ ‘I was angry. I still am. You fucked up our lives.’ ‘I think you need to put some of the blame for that on the wonderful government.’ ‘No. I put it on you. What you did was wrong.’ ‘Not thirteen years worth of wrong! For God’s sake! I didn’t kill anybody!’ ‘You should have known better.’ ‘How could I? It’s not like they tell people what kind of sentences they’re giving out.’ ‘You should’ve known. Somebody smart like you should’ve known. What you were doing. . . didn’t you ever think there were consequences?’ ‘Okay. Right. Whatever. I just felt like all of you just let me rot in there. That if I died no one would care. I mean sometimes it was months before I heard from any of you.’ ‘You think it was easy for us? Paying the bills, keeping things running, ignoring all the people that kept telling me I should divorce you, that you were no good. It was no picnic, all right?’ So I said to her ‘Okay. Well. . . can we go to that place on Daniel Island? It was nice there. I remember we used to drink Coronas under one of the umbrellas in the tables on the patio.’ She was quiet for a minute, and then she said ‘Oh! THAT place. The one with the patio furniture outside.’ ‘Yeah! That’s it!’ ‘It closed down. About six years ago.’
—
Cuban-born writer and composer F.R. Martinezimmigrated to the U.S. as a result of the Cuban Revolution. He grew up in Miami then moved to New York City to attend the Juilliard School where he studied with David Diamond and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree. He went on to compose music for film, television, radio, and theater. He is the recipient of two Emmys (in conjunction with the writing team at Children’s Television Workshop, currently Sesame Workshop), and a Grammy for the Sesame Street album Elmopalooza in 1998, on which his song “Mambo I, I, I” is performed by Gloria Estefan. He worked with several other notables such as Cindy Lauper, Celia Cruz, Tito Puente, Trini Lopez, and various Latino music stars of the late twentieth century. In 1998, along with writer Luis Santeiro, he was the recipient of the Richard Rodgers Award offered by the American Academy of Arts and Letters, for the musical Barrio Babies. He worked for Disney on the show “Handy Manny” as a composer, completing background music and songs for 100 shows. “Handy Manny” was also nominated for an Emmy in 2009. With the Charleston Symphony Orchestra he worked on various projects including one for Darius Rucker of Hootie and the Blowfish fame. He’s been creating poetry and fiction since the age of twelve and has only returned to a more serious involvement with writing in recent years. In 2016, his poem “300 Min” received an Honorable Mention from PEN America. In the past five years, he has completed over a hundred poems and five novels as well as a number of short stories. He is looking to publish more fiction and poetry and would be grateful for sample copies of literary journals and submission guidelines. For his mailing address please contact insiderprize[at]americanshortfiction.org.
Two days ago, ATX, a five-foot-two pallid hispanic prisoner on our cell block in his mid- to late-twenties, got his throat slit with a razor from ear to ear. I was at the law library when it happened. I came back, and the officers were locking us all up in our cells while three prisoner janitors mopped blood off the floor. The bright sun and the smell of fresh air seemed miles behind me.
ATX had had a fistfight in the dayroom with Bubba, a fifty-sevenish bald-headed five-foot-seven clean shaven black man with another thirty years in prison, before I left to the law library. I caught the end of that fight when I came back to the cell block after lunch.
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Seeing Bubba exchange punches with ATX puzzled me because since I had moved in to the cell block two weeks before, Bubba had been polite, helpful, and respectable. He would life coach some of the men on the cell block. He was also an expert tailor. He had recently hemmed up my visitation pants. And I had been helping him identify some legal problems he had with his conviction. He complained about misidentification. I had written down some case citations for him so he could look into them.
ATX had only been on the cell block for about four days, but he too had been laid back and respectable. He and Bobby, who lived two cells down from ATX, had been exchanging ideas about God and the Bible.
The hispanic and black gang members in the dayroom (Tango Blast, Bloods, and Crips) were unsettled. There’s an unwritten G-Code on this building that the youngsters do not fight with older prisoners. ATX was violating that code. Bubba and ATX had had some kind of falling out in line in the chow hall. Bubba had accidentally bumped into ATX. ATX said, “You must think I’m some kinda ho!”
Bubba’s from the old school. He spent years in lockup for killing one of his cell mates. He couldn’t overlook ATX’s hostility.
ATX said, “If you fucked up about it, we can get under the TV and get that.” So they fought under the TV, and ATX got a good hit in and busted Bubba’s lip. After the fight, ATX kept bringing the issue up to other men on the cell block out loud. In doing so, he kept the fire burning. For the next three hours, Bubba told the men he wanted to cut ATX.
Those men tried over and over to talk Bubba out of it. Bubba wouldn’t listen. His mind was set. To make matters worse, with Bubba’s old school penitentiary mentality comes the idea that once you say you’re gonna do something , it’s like making a promise. And you gotta follow through with it. You gotta keep your word. Even if it doesn’t make any sense. Even on some shit like this. Never mind the fact that Bubba’s sister was talking to him about hiring a parole lawyer for him. That’s the old school penitentiary mentality. That’s what this system does to you.
Twenty years in prison is enough for a man to learn his lesson. Anything after that pushes you to the limit. The point of no return. If you’re not strong enough mentally, physically, and emotionally, the system turns you into a fully programmed machine. Bubba had reached that point.
These days, no one expects you to keep that kind of promise. Instead, they try to talk you out of it. The younger generation of experienced prisoners have to counsel the older, more experienced, more traumatized lifers. We have to carry the burden of trying to talk these men out of keeping those kinds of promises.
My neighbor Rudy was sitting next to ATX on the bench. Rudy told ATX, “Watch out because that old school’s gonna try to shank you.” ATX didn’t listen. He fell asleep on the bench while sitting down in front of the TV in the dayroom. Bubba snuck up behind ATX and slit his throat ear to ear.
ATX stood up and started walking around the dayroom talking shit. “I’m ready to die in here!” Blood leaked out of his neck and soaked into his white T-shirt. The gash on his Adam’s apple was wide enough and deep enough to stick the tip of your pinky into all the way past your pinky nail. “Somebody give me a blade!” No one did.
Yesterday, after Rudy and I finished working out, we got into a conversation under the stairs of the cell block about what happened. Me, Rudy, and Bobby. Rudy stands six-foot-one. He’s lanky, but physically fit. A hispanic thug out of San Antonio who recently told me that he used to inject into his veins a half an ounce of meth every day before he came to prison. He’s thirty years old. He has the San Antonio Spur emblem in the middle of his chest with Aztec Indian art all over the rest of his upper back. He will discharge a four-year sentence in eight months, and he complains that his lawyer fucked him over. His modus operandi is car theft rings.
Bobby is a five-foot-three white boy in his early forties with the body of a middleweight weight lifter. He’s got fifteen years in on a ninety-nine-year sentence for bank robbery. His brother-in-law testified against him at his trial. He’s a recent revert to Christianity and a recovering alcoholic with salt and pepper hair. His sister and two of his nieces were shot and killed in the mass church shooting at the baptist church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, in 2017. His nephew was shot five times and lived. Another niece looked into the eyes of the killer and lived without a single gunshot wound. He told me yesterday that when his sister and the kids got shot, his sister covered his nieces with her body to protect them. He said, “She tried to cover their mouths so they wouldn’t make any noise. My sister was bigger than me. She wasn’t huge, but she was big boned.”
Me, I’m forty-one years old. Chicano brown skin. Thirteen years in on a sixty-year sentence with a murder conviction under the law of parties.
Rudy was sitting on the bottom flight of the stairs. He said he saw Bubba coming. He got up from the bench and shied away. He said, “I got up and left.” He cracked a slight smile. He had a shadow of guilt in his eyes. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
Bobby’s lips took the shape of a seagull in the distant sky back home in Corpus Christi, at the beach on North Padre Island. I saw parentheses at each end of his lips. His eyelids formed a straight line and almost halfway shut. His eyebrows curved up toward each other. He looked at Rudy with disappointment. Bobby said, ‘How would you like it if I got up and left you there to get your throat slit?”
Rudy said, “I told him to watch out. And what did he do? He went to sleep. Shit, Old School could’ve cut me! If I’d have got in, it would’ve started all kinds of shit. He shouldn’t have been fighting with that old school. And he should’ve listened to me when I warned him.”
I said, “He should’ve stayed in the cell. He was already in there. He shouldn’t have come back out.”
Bobby said, “I thought about trying to make peace between them. We all ate on the same table at chow. But Bubba was already with that mindset. He probably would have come after me. You saw the way he got after his own people for trying to get involved. I could’ve said something or tried to do something to prevent it.” He told us that Bubba had big-faced ATX in the chow hall. He concluded that he and Rudy had cowered by not intervening.
Unsure of what to say, I took a deep breath and rubbed my head. I looked down at my brown skin; at my threadbare tennis shoes; at the snake and dragon wrapped around my leg that I paid a thousand dollars for twenty years ago during the cocaine-dealing chapter of my life, at Axis Tattoo shop, in downtown Corpus Christi across from the Greyhound bus station, before U.S. District Judge Janice Graham Jack sent me to federal prison, where I lost my wife Iris to cocaine, meth, Xanax, and other men. I can still hear her in 2001, eighteen years ago, behind limo tint, singing to me in the passenger seat of the red Grand Am I bought her while I drove through palm trees past the million-dollar mansions on Ocean Drive on the way to our house with the sparkling salt water bay to our left. Serenity, our then one-year-old baby girl, our pageant prize and trophy winner, sat in the middle of the back seat in her car sucking on the nipple of an empty Enfamil bottle. I can still see Serenity’s long eyelashes curling up and her black button eyes, blinking. I can feel Iris’s smooth milky skin at my fingertips; her long reddish brown hair in between my fingers. I can still hear her sober million-dollar voice in my head. The only woman who’s ever called me handsome. “How will I live without you?” The song from Con Air. Her voice echoes in my memories. I remember thinking, My life is complete.
Bobby said, “We’re supposed to stop things like that from happening.”
Rudy said, “Fuck that!”
I said, “We gotta be prudent in what we do. It’s like being in a war. We gotta get out of here alive.”
Later on, I reflected on the conversation. I thought, It’s like a war in many respects. But not all. ATX was not a fellow soldier. We didn’t even know him. And he violated too many prison principles. But does that make him less human? Does that make him deserving of death? We gotta make sure that we get out of here alive. That’s a duty we owe our families and ourselves. If you were there, what would you have done? And don’t tell me you’d have told the officers. You don’t do that in prison. If you do, then you might be the one getting your throat slit. Besides, the officers want us to kill each other. Not all of them are like that, but it always seems like the worst ones are around at the worst times. They won’t do anything for us until the deed is done. Then they’ll throw it in our faces as if we proved them right.
Weeks later while I sat in my cell thinking about how to end this story, I thought about promises. How promises are so easily broken. I remembered being in federal prison and promising myself that I’d never come back to prison. I was released. Yet here I sit. I write. Some promises you just don’t keep.
—
Steven Reynaldo Perezwas born in Corpus Christi, Texas, on July 5, 1978. He is a member of the Pen City Writers inside team at the John B. Connally state prison in Kenedy, Texas, which was established and is led and taught by author Deb Olin Unferth of the University of Texas at Austin. Steven is a self-taught paralegal; a staunch prisoner advocate against unlawful convictions and sentences and mass incarceration; and an avid defender of prisoner rights. In 2019, he earned a creative writing fellowship from the U.T. Austin English Department. He is in his 14th year of a 60-year sentence.
Back in the age of the dinosaurs, which most consider around 1964:
My family and I lived in a small town called China, Texas. We had a huge rice farm/ranch operation with an average cattle count of fifteen-hundred head. We also had our cow horses (around twenty) and two Shetland ponies.
I was, at the time, around eight years old. My brother was eleven months younger than myself.
In my family, there were six kids, and at this time of year, in the dog-days of summer, us kids were not in school and pretty much had to make our own adventures manifest.
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Mom had a new baby, another girl, and now there were four of them, with just the two boys, so the girls pretty much stayed in the house playing with Barbie dolls that had broken knees, for I couldn’t figure out how they worked. So, to make a long story short, my brother and I were pretty much exiled to the outside of the house to keep the peace. Besides, mom breast-fed, and we certainly didn’t want to see that; it was better this way because we got to play with our many dogs, and we killed water moccasins, which were in abundance because of the small rice field we had by the house. So my brother and I were guards of the ole homestead, terrors incarnate in the bodies of two rambunctious small boys.n other words, we were normal, mischievously under-supervised little boys doing what we considered fun.
My stepfather worked the big fields, and we had some chores that took place mainly if we were being watched closely, or if it had to do with our horses. We liked our horses.
We liked going out into the next pasture. Our house was surrounded on three sides with pastures, and rice fields.
The horses, or most of them, liked it when we went there. A couple of them always got special treatment. Blaze was my regular riding horse. A standard quarter horse mare with a white face and white socks, roan in color, a lustrous red, she knew that when she saw me, she was in for a good curry-combin’ and brushing, along with the sugar cubes that we gave those horses that would come to us.
Most were on to us. We went in the pasture with an empty bucket making them think we had sweet oats for them. When they got fooled a few times, only the sugar-addicted horses would stay for their rewards of sugar cubes, and yes, sweet oats, for my brother and I liked playing tricks on the horses. We only wanted to curry-comb the horses that liked us.
Of course, we made sure the water trough was filled. Playing with water in the hot summer days was fine with us, and when we got wet, who cared? That was our job.
Now the bigger horses were fun to mess with, but it was rare that we could saddle or ride one of the cow ponies without the help of our stepfather. Even though we rode them a lot, they weren’t kid horses, and when the saddles came out, it was work time for them, and they knew this. We did ride bareback at times, but this story isn’t about that.
We had two Shetland ponies, which this story is about, for they were the kid horses. They were for the girls, but we rode them more than anyone.
SugarBee was one of the most genial of creatures, and very tolerant of us. We liked her, she never tried to bite us. She liked sugar cubes, and to be combed as well as saddled and rode.
I don’t know where she came from, but she was such a sweetheart that even with two miscreants around her, her disposition rubbed off on us, and we always gave her special attention.
Frisky, though, was another matter. Frisky was an un-castrated cattle stud with a painted hide. He could have almost been an Indian Pony had his legs been longer. What he didn’t have in height, he had in malignity.
He would bite, he would kick, and step on feet with sharp little hooves as well as buck you off. . .if you could get on him that is. He was won by our neighbor during a raffle at a Catholic church fundraiser. When our neighbor came over to our place and just gave this critter to us to be rid of it, we knew that there had to be a good reason. I had to ear-hustle his conversation with my stepfather.
The neighbor was explaining how mean this pony was. He was also telling him that this horse didn’t like the sulky wagon, which basically is a seat with two wheels in it. You see harness racing with these wagons.
It seems Frisky waited for our neighbor to hook up this wagon, then, after he got in, the pony went into “stupid-gear” when the reins were snapped over his back. Frisky went to kicking, and bucking as well as snapping like a mad Chihuahua, then kicking the buggy until the neighbor fell off. The pony then kicked the light-weight wagon over his head, then backed out of the harness. He ran down old Highway 90, causing a cussing, winded foot race with the neighbor. Frisky now became ours, and with rascally glee I ran to tell my brother the good news.
Time would go on, and the summer dragged on. We had got Frisky in the spring, and got him used to us. I even rode him bareback, and was bit a couple of times, as well as had my toe stepped on, but he would come to us readily enough.
We kept these horses in the small field with the horse barn that had hundreds of mesquite and Chinaberry trees — which by the way, is where China, Texas gets its name.
One morning before it got too hot, my brother and I, like each day during the summer, were off and running full tilt into our shenanigans.
Being met at our front door by our mismatched pack of dogs (somewhere around fifteen of them) we headed off to the horse field.
Dogs were running all around, chasing rabbits, and finding snakes and killing them. My brother and I were just accepted members of the pack.
We went into the horse pasture, grabbed the bucket, and were able to get SugarBee to us, then Blaze, but the others weren’t falling for these two human pups’ tricks. It made us no difference, because we were just out and about trying to stay away from the stupid girls that always wanted to dress us up in dresses. No sir, we was off and running because both my brother and I knew to get caught by that female horde might mean my other ear was getting a needle driven through it. It was safer out with the snakes, nutria rats, gators, horses, and such.
When we had finished messing with SugarBee and Blaze, we saw Frisky wandering slowly toward us. I had a couple of sugar cubes left, so when he got to us we were able to comb him, which he liked, and he smelled the sweet oak bucket, but we hadn’t gotten that far yet.
Now horses aren’t known for their proper etiquette, so while we were treating this mean little fart with kindness, he of all things decided to pee on us. He just flowed the ole whiz-wand out and peed like a racehorse on us, causing it to splash all over both my and my brother’s feet and legs.
“Oh no you didn’t!”
Yes he did, and now my brother and I backed away from the flash flood this guy caused.
Oh yeah, the horns came out on both my brother’s and my head. In fields like this what we called crawdad holes were everywhere. Small towers of hard mud-balls that crayfish have erected were everywhere, and ready ammo for two pissed off, and pissed on, boys.
We, of course, started throwing these things at the pony. I know it was wrong, but being seven and eight years old in 1964, we didn’t care, for retribution was at hand.
The pony must have held all that water through the night just for us. He continued on while we threw small clods of mud at him surely aiming for the offending member.
What we didn’t see was that menacing look and evil, what looked like a smile I later remember seeing; which, come to think of it, looked more like a snarl.
With his ears laying back now, as we got closer to throw these mud clods, that little fart’s back feet started flying up. He kicked me in the arm, throwing me to the ground.
My brother was close to a barbed wire fence, and he got kicked over and over as he went under the fence. I jumped up, and found an old rotten stick, then whacked him, breaking the stick. He then started chasing me with blood in his eyes, kicking and snapping at my butt with those sharp horse teeth while I tried to find a faster gear to get in.
My brother chased after the horse, or Shetland pony, which is what he was. He grabbed the tail, getting another kick in the leg, while the horse spun around, I yelled for my brother to climb a Chinaberry tree that was close by. I also headed for our ethereal heaven.
This heathenish fiend saw both my brother and I was out of reach now, so he started cropping grass under the tree. My brother and I could just look at each other and laugh.
Oh no, it wasn’t over though. Each time the horse edged away, we would try to sneak down the tree, and Frisky would lay his ears back, then start bucking, and running back and forth under the tree, thus keeping us stranded up that Chinaberry tree for at least two hours, until he finally wandered away. We got down and ran out of the pasture. I wanted to get even with him for doing that to us, but he had got our attention.
We never threw dirt clods at him again, and we seemed to have some deep rooted respect for each other. I would ride him, and he would bite me, or step on my foot, and I’d push him off, limp a little, then get on. I kept a small switch handy.
We would leave a year or so later because Mom was looking for another life. She took us with her, but I’ll never forget when that wild pony ruled the day.
—
Timothy Bazrowx grew up in China, Texas, and his writing about life in prison and out was published by The Marshall Project, Prisons Foundation, and Uncaptive Voices. In April 2020, he died due to complications from COVID-19.
About the Organizers & this Year’s Judge
Emily Chammah and Maurice Chammah are assistant editors at American Short Fiction and co-direct the Insider Prize. Emily is a Fulbright Fellow, and the winner of the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. Her fiction can be found in The Common. Maurice is a staff writer at The Marshall Project, where he reports on the U.S. criminal justice system. His first book, Let the Lord Sort Them: The Rise and Fall of the Death Penalty will be published by Crown Books in January.
Justin Torres has published short fiction in The New Yorker, Harper’s, Granta, Tin House, The Washington Post, Glimmer Train, Flaunt, and other publications, as well as non-fiction pieces in publications like The Guardian and The Advocate. A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Justin’s novel We the Animals has been translated into fifteen languages and was recently adapted into a film. It premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and was nominated for five Independent Spirit Awards. He was a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, a fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard, and a Cullman Center Fellow at the New York Public Library. The National Book Foundation named him one of the 2012’s 5 under 35. He was the recipient of a grant from the National Endowment of the Arts, a Rolón Fellowship in Literature from United States Artists, and the VCU Cabell First Novelist Award. He lives in Los Angeles, where he is an Assistant Professor of English at UCLA.
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Break The Rules - Mieczyslaw Stilinski Imagine (pt 5)
REQUESTED: Nooo, but I had massive ideas for this, so I’m writing it just to get those ideas out.
WARNINGS: Swearing, sexual tension
SUMMARY: Training heats up, and as it does, so does the sexual tension between you and Stiles. The girls sit down and interrogate you, but there’s someone listening in to every word you say...
NOTES: Direct continuation of pt 4, which you can find here.
Goes along with the plot for 1x03 “Cover”, after the horizontal line (not the “Keep Reading” section).
I’ve finally finished the majority of my work ready for school in two weeks! Perks of being a Year 13, I don’t start back till the 11th woo!
Also, I broke up with my boyfriend, because I didn’t feel it would be fair to him not being able to see me for ages because of our busy schedules, and the fact we live so far from each other. We agreed to stay friends though, thankfully.
Anyways, enough about me. Hope you enjoy the story!
“Show me how much you want me.” That was all it took for him to move forward quickly and flatten his lips to mine. The feeling of it all was otherworldly, and I was struggling to find any way to compare it to past kisses. Being with Stiles at that moment in time just felt...right. He started to walk me backwards until my legs hit the bed and I separated from him for just a second.
He whined slightly until he noticed that I was getting onto the bed, and smirked slightly. “This is the first time I’ve ever felt anything like this with anyone. Fuck, I wish I’d done this sooner, (Y/N),” he said, reattaching his lips onto mine and running his fingers up my back, my neck, every bit he could expose. It all felt like it was on fire with each touch he produced, and I was lost in him until we heard hammering on the door.
“Yo, (Y/L/N), Stilinski, we’re gonna hit up the bar on site. Wanna come with?” Vasquez’s voice came through the door, and we broke apart, exchanging a look with each other.
“Coming!” I yelled out, and Stiles sighed. “If you want, we can continue this later?”
“Sure,” he smiled down at me, catching my lips in his once more.
After that night, in which I didn’t allow myself to get totally shitfaced (we still had training. No way I’m putting myself off my game), the training upped slightly. We were going through the more physical stuff, and Stiles, being my roommate, was automatically made my partner.
When we said we wanted to get closer together the night before, we didn’t exactly mean being zip-tied together and thrown into a pool. “This is sink or swim, ladies and gentlemen. Break free of your ties and get out of the pool. Show me you and your partner know how to work together or... Fail and sink to the bottom.” I was really starting to become less and less fond of that SA O’Connor guy.
“Did you cross your wrists before they closed the zip ties?” I heard Stiles mumble to me, and looked across at Alex and Shelby, who had just broken out of theirs. I shook my head at him, then realised he probably couldn’t see that.
“No, why?”
“'Cause it gives you enough slack to do...” He wriggled slightly and I heard a small snap before he raised his arms out of the water, and I moved mine, free of the ties. “This!”
I grinned at him, and said, “Well done Sti! I could never have thought of that, to be honest,” I said, and he grinned, pulling me closer to him so we were treading water, wrapped up in each other. I heard someone cough beside me and looked to see Alex smirking at me and Stiles, causing us to quickly break apart and begin swimming to the side. He waited a little bit before following, leaving me to swim with Alex and Shelby, while he swam back with Ryan and Simon.
When we grabbed our towels and started walking back, Shelby caught a glimpse of Caleb finishing up his own workout with the other analyst (who seemed to have taken a liking to Simon). She looked visibly shell-shocked, and Alex actually had to grab her and steer her back on course to walk back to the changing rooms. “Eyes on the road, Georgia Peach,” Alex chuckled, and we all laughed.
Frowning down at Alex’s hand as she approached us, I carried on drying my hair. She noticed mine and Shelby’s concerned looks, and said nonchalantly, “Oh. I cut myself getting out of those zip ties. No big deal.”
“Oh, my wrist could use a little tender loving care, too. You worked me over in there.”
“Oh, my God. I'm so sorry, Shelby. But you have to admit, you were dragging a little today.” We all chuckled slightly at that one, and I shook my head at them. “Maybe you're tired from all those late-night phone calls you take in the bathroom,” Alex said, throwing me a wink.
“Someone missing you back home?” Nimah said, and I raised my eyebrow. Was this girl already tied down?
“Just the family business. Money never sleeps,” Shelby said as she put her hair up, while I pulled on my shirt. “And, apparently, neither does Alex if she's awake before the London opening bell,” she said, causing me to laugh slightly.
“Hey, at least I’m not visibly getting it on with my roommate,” Alex laughed, nudging me in the side. “We need details, (Y/N). How long has this been going on for?”
“I would say, but we seem to have somebody interested in us,” I mumbled, looking over at Vasquez, who quickly ducked her head down as she pulled her shirt over her head.
“I hate that I barely finished in time... no thanks to her,” Nimah snarled, and I shook my head.
“Don't blame yourself,” I respond, and Alex cuts in as well.
“Vasquez just plays to win.”
“So do I. I'm just getting tired of losing,” Nimah said, slamming her locker closed.
“Lance Corporal Ryan Booth. Served four years in the marine corps, including two tours of duty in Iraq. Recipient of the bronze star,” Miranda said, as an image of Ryan came up on the screen in front of us.
He looked impressive in his MTP uniform, and Alex looked back at him, before mumbling to me, “Still not getting me into him though.”
“Ms. Shelby Wyatt,” Miranda continued, being cut off by proud whoops from myself and Alex. The blonde laughed slightly at me and smiled. “Champion marksman, Rhodes Scholar...”
“And proud debutante,” Shelby interjected, nodding slightly.
“These are the faces you present to the world... the story you tell about yourself. But underneath that narrative lies the psychology that drives you. When dealing with the crime, the evidence tells you how. The psychology tells you why. It allows you to know the criminal. Before you know the enemy, you have to know yourself.”
We started to have files passed around to us, as Miranda continued speaking. “When you applied to the FBI, we constructed psychological profiles of you... breakdowns of your mental strengths and emotional weaknesses. But it's not enough for us to look inside you. You have to prove that you can look inside each other... NAT and analyst alike.”
We all exchanged looks with each other, beginning to calculate personalities. “In the field, this is the kind of work that you do with a subject you've never met. Here, you've been together for three weeks. So you are going to conduct profiles based on the strengths and weaknesses you find. Get real, get deep, don't hold anything back. I'd better be impressed.” And with that, the new task was set.
“Profile me all you want, I'm an open book,” Caleb said confidently, and Shelby was quick to retort.
“Yeah, I've heard of it. "American Psycho."” I laughed loudly at that one, high-fiving Shelby as we walked out of the room, glancing back at Caleb. He did not look impressed.
“This will be easy,” Alex said to me and Shelby, “I've never had trouble reading people.”
“It's usually the smartest people who have the biggest blind spot,” Simon said, walking with us, causing Alex to chuckle softly.
“So, before we start this analysis of each other, I think there’s one topic we need to breach,” Alex laughed, and I shook my head.
“You guys are relentless, I swear to God.”
“Only because your relationship with Stiles is the most interesting thing we’ve got here, (Y/N)!” Shelby said, grinning at me.
“Yes, I need something to distract me from the anger I’m feeling over the training sessions. Think I could relax just hearing how your relationship is going,” Nimah rolled her eyes, but smiled at us all.
“Fine, go ahead,” I said, laughing at their eagerness.
“Okay, how far did you go?” Shelby started, and I flushed slightly.
“Well, I think we were going pretty far, but we were interrupted last night,” I sighed, and chewed my lip remembering the prior night’s events.
“By who?” Alex asked, and I rolled my eyes.
“Vasquez. Our favourite person,” I nodded at Nimah, and she frowned.
“Do you think she’s doing it on purpose?”
“Not a clue. If she is, then I don’t understand why.”
“Hey, I have an idea,” Shelby interjected, and we all looked at her. “How about you use this task to try and find out why she’s being such a cockblock?”
I smirked at that, and nodded. “Good plan Shel. But, y’know, I’m still going to make out with him tonight, and if she tries to interrupt then I’m just gonna ignore it,” I laughed, and started walking to the door.
As I opened it, Vasquez was about a quarter of the way down the corridor, and looked back at me, a panicked expression on her face. Was she just listening to our conversation?
Later that night, I waited for Stiles to finish up his notes on Booth and Haas, then quickly pressed my lips to his. “What’s this for then, huh?” He smiled against my lips, and I pulled away.
“Making up for last night’s shambles. How about we actually show each other how we feel, Stilinski?” I smirk, and his eyes immediately darkened in lust.
“You had me at making up for last night,” he mumbled, pulling me onto him and grabbing my ass, causing me to let out a soft sigh.
#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinski imagine#mieczyslaw stilinski#mieczyslaw stilinski imagine#stiles stilinski au#mieczyslaw stilinski au#teen wolf#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf au#dylan o'brien imagine#dylan o'brien#dylan o'brien au
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I still can’t believe the sh*t I’ve been put through and the sh*t they/someone is still trying to put me through. I am passed asking why. I’m only concentrating on living my life right and rebuilding my relationship w friends & family. Getting closer to the person I used to be. I honestly had lost sight of who that was but I remember now bc I’m still that person. I was just asleep. I feel like I’ve been dreaming for almost a decade. Like dreaming w my eyes open. I no longer feel that anymore but I still have to deal w the aftermath. I admit that I’m in recovery and it’s apparent that some scars I have to work on living w for the rest of my life. I am having a hell of a time just trying to trust others. I’ve isolated myself but have been forcing myself to go back to my social routines just to bring some normalcy in my life as well as to not worry others. But I still feel alone bc it’s me against them. I’m not gonna let it go. I know what I was put through. I know what I physically endured. I know I was messed w mentally. I won’t let it go. I don’t need to be known or compensated bc I don’t trust anyone enough still to give me anything. What I do want is people to do the right thing. For all those pieces of sh*t to be seen for the terrorists they are instead of the public servants they are masquerading to be. There’s no room for hate in this country. There’s no room for psychos. I don’t even think there’s room for people that don’t believe in God in this country. We pledge to be one nation under God, solemnly swear to tell the truth so help us God, spend our $ In God We Trust…so then why are we allowing people that not only believe the opposite but are also violently trying to end our existence. They say they believe in God and our nation and are Americans all the way but like I said before, u can’t believe in God and be hurting others, taking away their happiness nor messing w their lives for your gratification. These people don’t believe in God/Good. Why is that so hard to understand? Why don’t people understand that God is not about hate? He’s about love and happiness. Why are people having such a difficult time grasping that truth? It really is simple. It’s like finding joy in seeing your lover cry from sadness and then saying u love them. That’d be false. Love is truly feeling someone’s pain, sadness, happiness, excitement, etc. When u don’t care u are selfish and make sure no one has anything better than u bc seeing others miserable is what makes u smile. That’s psycho & evil and against God & this nation. I’m not going to let it go. I can’t. I want people to be free and happy and to live happy lives and to get along w each other. Respect one another. Help each other. Be happy. Wearing a uniform, having a PHD and/or being a parent doesn’t make u one of the ‘Good’ guys and everyone else one of the ‘Bad’ guys. Let’s be real. If ur hurting others, ur doing something wrong & it should not be ignored. We’re not perfect but we have to try to be. If we don’t recognize or make amends then we are not truly sorry and can’t say we believe in God. People will say a lot of things about me. A lot of crap- some good, some bad, some true, some not, a lot exaggerated but the one thing they can’t say is that I’m a bad person. I might sometimes break man’s laws but I don’t break God’s laws. I’m also not a liar nor am I stupid. I know that God’s got my back so I won’t be shamed, intimidated nor forced to be something I’m not either. I’m not evil and I’ve never been. So say and do what u want because I will never stop believing in God and living my life accordingly. Unlike u, I won’t come after u nor mess w u but I will tell the truth to anyone willing to hear it.
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