#number one they're like what the fuck we thought we dealt with this shit

[andiwriteordie]

*clears throat* get ready for the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever conceptualized

not to get all up in my holly wheeler bullshit again but i’m gonna need you to imagine some kind of chaotic world in which holly in the 1990s watches home alone when her big brother and his boyfriend are home on thanksgiving break 

and then something happens where holly is home alone while everyone is out at work or doing something else and then things... get really strange.

there’s a faceless monster outside her window, and suddenly all the phones are not working, and the lights are super fucked up, and the last time holly remembers seeing anything this insane was when she was really little? and there was that weird wall at will’s home? or the trees were moving that one fourth of july?

but holly’s stuck. she can’t go outside or get a hold of anyone to help her.

so what does holly do?

she pulls a kevin mcallister.

and holly home alones the fuck out of this demogorgon.

#holly wheeler #byler #tagging this byler because god knows you are my people #byler comes home before mike's parents and holly deadass has the demogorgon like #half dead on the ground #number one they're like what the fuck we thought we dealt with this shit #number two how the FUCK did holly do this #holly is an evil little genius and i stand by it!

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for killing everyone in order to free them from their suffering due to free will being false as our universe, and many adjacent, are "fake"?

A lot of people know me, you definitely do. Probably. I fucking hope you do. Anywho, everyone thought I was just a silly crazy guy who was sick and talked to nonexistent voices.

Well first off the voices are real and second off I can be incredibly silly if you let me. Back to the point, I got mind zapped by this evil guy who wanted to mind control me. Shit didn't go as planned—for him that is—and he killed those voices. Only one remained, and I knew what I had to do.

Here's the thing: Our existence, not yours, mine and the people I killed, was all a lie. We have no free will, and they just keep getting put into the most cliché situation to suffer, never allowed to be happy. Some not allowed to kill, others not allowed to die because they're too popular. You get it right?

So I went and killed them, had a ton of fun with it too. It got kinda tricky with those who are literal gods or have super healing, but I dealt with them. One of the first people I killed even left me a little gift, something to take down this big guy in the sky who spoke directly to you. Not one of the boxes.

So yeah everyone's dead and I'm currently at the heart of every other universe like mime. The writers are right behind that open door to the right, and I have a gun with a number that they drew on it. WIBTA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

What really fucks me up about the Axl/Ino dichotomy is how it's two people in the same situation in wildly different directions. Except with Ino it's beat-for-beat on-the-nose "The Clinical Depression has Knocked me Clean on My Ass" (more under the cut cause oops long post, also cw: depression and whatnot cause it gets a little heavy beyond this point)

I fucking want to sob during her interrogation scenes. She talks about not feeling joy anymore from the things she used to. Jack-O asks her what she wants and she gives a long answer about her and Will that basically boils down to "I just want to be fucking happy." What fucking tears me to pieces specifically though? The part where she lists all these happy things and memories about Will that she said she promised herself she'd never forget and she says "Those memories are still fuzzy. Any guess as to why? Cause they're not real."

One of the most messed up effects of depression I learned about was that it can actually cause a kind of brain damage and erode memory. Ino is so lost and angry and pissed at the world and nothing she's ever done has worked and now she's just questioning any happiness she ever had or any feeling she held onto and now she's become that person that I think a lot of us who have struggled with these kinds of issues have at times wished to be: just an all powerful god being that wants someone, anyone, to pay for the hurt. Just somewhere to direct the anger - see "I'm going to make a world where everyone is like ME" like wow, yeah she's in rough shape.

And yet, on the opposite end of the spectrum, you've got Axl Low, who gets dealt shit hand after shit hand and still tries hard to be kind. And he extends that to Ino. He gets it - but he also has her number. He tells her to find a way to do what she really wants; "Break the happy record instead." He's there for her. He knows what it's like and how hard it is to find happiness in a world that keeps being unfair, but he knows it's possible because he's done it.

Ino's theme "Requiem" keeps playing Ino's memories for her like they're torture - "Let's take some strawberries and go to the hill / If you want to see fireworks, bring a cute scarf / the pictures in my head tell me a lot of stories / None of this is real"

At the end of Strive, who tells her that's bullshit (blazing)? Axl GODDAMN Low!!! She told Jack-O "Those memories aren't real" and Axl screams at her "We all carve a happy memory to take with us as we go along, please try to remember something, ANYTHING!" and the memory she thought was fake? It's made real by Axl. It's validated and affirmed by him. And in that moment Ino fucking smiles. The Hard Rock Witch, the twisted Crimson Minstrel, finally feels like it's all real. And she recognizes Will, and Will recognizes her.

I fell off the wagon towards the end here I'm not sure how to poignantly wrap this up - I just watched a video on why someone's favorite character is Axl Low and it made me spiral into Axl/Ino again so here we are. I just think that it's yet another crazy good example of the way Guilty Gear is able to illustrate these insanely deep stories about what it means/how hard it is to be human, and Ino is one of the fucking best ones.

I'll link the video below because it's pretty fucking good and if you like Axl like I do I know y'all are chomping at the bit for talk on him haha. Also wanted to mention that video has a crazy good comment near the top that mentioned how Axl says in Xrd that his favorite thing about Megumi is her smile and when Ino smiles at the end of Strive that's when they finally recognize eachother. Thought I'd bring that up because it made me need to lie down for a while. I love Guilty Gear.

#guilty gear #sairambles #axl low #ino guilty gear #ino #text post #long post #I think all Axl Lovers are Ino-coded #we are all looking for a funny little guy to teach us how wonderful life and the world is #teach me how to be happy Axl Low #that's my new armchair psych theory haha #Freud says we're all looking to fuck our mom/dad I say we're all looking to fuck Axl Low #My theory's better and I didn't need any cocaine to come up with it you old fart #cw depression #Youtube

[asirensrage]

I am actually genuinely concerned for you and the wider general community. Maddy made some mistakes but they have apologized and moved on like everyone else should. They don't deserve to be constantly belittled. Or have their OCs stolen. When someone like you reblogs a stolen OC, it's human decency to let you know. I am not obsessed or a stalker. For my own peace of mind, I keep an eye on a number of creators on here as they either steal from or bully others. Sadly this kind toxic behavior exists in the plural but that's not on me. So I feel it's our responsibility to keep tabs on people to protect others. I think that is reasonable. Maybe when your OC gets stolen or somebody calls you a fat fuck like I've been called, then yes, you'll be glad to have people in the know

Oh, so it was that Maddy. Thought so. I'm not belittling them. I could care less about what they're doing. See the thing is, I have people blocked that I prefer not to interact with. Someone who's been proven to have stolen stuff, whose so-called apology did not actually address the issues and properly apologize to the people they hurt, would be one of them. So I don't see their shit, just like how I suggested you block me.

I don't believe that your concern is genuine. If it was, again, you wouldn't be coming out of the woodwork to harass and accuse one person in particular as others have done so in the past, while ignoring my points about how the apology of the person you're defending didn't address the major points or actually clearly apologize to the people who said they hurt them. You're not looking at all the facts and evidence. We've been through this though. I shouldn't have to keep repeating myself.

In your first ask to me, you straight up said "I keep tabs on" which notes to being a bit of a stalker. Especially, AGAIN, when there's no proof about the person in question. Unlike the one you're defending. Notice how even in this response to my last reply, you still just accuse. Same way I pointed out before how once evidence is requested, that request is ignored as further anon asks get more upset. Again, if you were so concerned about people and the oc community, you'd actually be listening to them and stepping in to address concerns logically. This isn't logical babes.

"Maybe when your OC gets stolen or somebody calls you a fat fuck like I've been called, then yes, you'll be glad to have people in the know" - I've already told you. Someone tried to steal one of my fics. The people I've made friends with on tumblr, even some I don't know well, reached out and tried to help when it happened. We all supported each other as they targeted specific people. As for being called "a fat fuck", babes, I've been called every name in the book. Like many, I dealt with bullying growing up. But the key part in that is the growing up. I got older, I learned how to shrug off the opinions of people who don't matter and deal with the ones who do. It's not easy but it's good.

Don't worry, babes. I have people who look out for me and they're in the know because I give them all the details about an issue and I welcome them to look into things themselves. Everyone has a different point of view and biases are real things. Maybe you should consider yours.

#stop being a dick #anon #honestly #why do you keep pressing this issue

[ellaintrigue]

I've complained about this now disowned nasty cousin before: https://ellaintrigue.tumblr.com/post/626251881858088961/here-is-a-word-i-dont-use-often-evil-frankly And her attempts to hook me up with a creepy druggie: https://ellaintrigue.tumblr.com/post/625902021692833792/be-so-so-careful-over-the-span-of-my-early-adult

Time to move on, correct? I have her blocked on all formats and haven't spoken to her since 2020 after she repeatedly mocked my mom both to me and to her face, called her stupid, and said it was her fault she had cancer. Nonetheless, I checked my phone's blocked numbers folder because I thought I had blocked someone else by accident and saw where she has been trying to talk to me after I told her off. Ugh.

When mom passed I messaged her sister on Facebook saying I did not want this cousin there at the funeral, after dad said all his family was coming. I wouldn't have gotten violent or anything like that but I would have flipped my shit for sure if this woman showed up after hating my mom. And the sister is catty too, but never said super cruel things, just that mom was stupid. Whatever, I can do without both. Sister never responded so I sighed in relief when neither showed up at the service. I needed my peace that day and kept Erin close.

That was last month, now the problem cousin contacts Erin (the one cousin I speak to/best friend) on Facebook saying she "forgives" me for not inviting her and that she wants to talk to me even though she knows I don't want to talk to her! That's fucking crazy!!!

How many times do you need to tell someone off? I've dealt with this shit with men I've dated which is one thing but a nearly 50 year old woman I'm related to? It doesn't even make sense. She has a family and friends and a busy life, she should have optimal mental health and not be stalking me. But that's not how it works I guess.

Way back in like 2017 I was bickering with her over politics (we later formed a truce) along with another person, a 40+ year old man I had started talking to when I was 16 and he was 34. I don't describe him as a groomer but he definitely wanted to fuck me. Well, I got reported as being suicidal on Facebook! I got a message in the support inbox saying I had been reported by an individual for threatening suicide. Obviously I had never done any such thing and it had to have been either the cousin or Brian who did it because my profile was friends only and everyone else was kosher.

I've run into all kinds of freaks online and dated some as well, and you could say the frequency of it is embarrassing. But the fact that I am related to these women? Really fuckin' embarrassing! I know I am not 100% stable either but I do not stalk and I try not to do harm. I would never mock someone for having cancer. Say you don't like someone or that they're an idiot but don't go there.

2018, Accomack County:

I drove to my mom's and she said we were going to the R*tard Center! I was like, "mom, what the fuck are you talking about?" She said there was a gardening center where handicapped people grew plants and the proceeds benefitted the Center of R*tardation. I told her that it wasn't the 60s anymore and you didn't refer to people with mental differences as "r*tarded." She wasn't mad but she firmly said that was what it was called. Ugh, boomers.

We get in her SUV and she drives me to this greenhouse, and lo and behold, there is a sign in big block letters that says "Center of R*tardation" on it. Mom says, "see, look, I told you."

Lower Virginia is clearly stuck back in the old days, and not always in a quaint manner. Speaking of which. the other cousin, the sister of the evil one, isn't so appropriate either.

In 2001 I met the politer sister's then-boyfriend. He had a different face (gaping mouth, large teeth) and barely spoke, like he pretty much couldn't. I was 12 but I distinctly remember that. Fast forward to today and they have 2 children with sightly deformed faces and other medical issues. Previously, before she met this man, this cousin was a teacher for people with developmental issues and mental handicaps. My guess is that somewhere along the line, she met this guy, who clearly wasn't fully functioning, no offense to anyone out there. As some of you know, I am professionally diagnosed neurodivergent myself and am in no place to shit on people with handicaps. I view her marrying this man and having kids with him as taking advantage.

I know that the sisters had an abusive father which is nothing to judge but both women seem to have anger and control issues. I have no comments on their home lives, I do not know if they are good mothers or partners or not. But seeing how they treated a dying woman makes me question it all.

#Cancer #Disabilities #Abuse

[lostcausezz]

Love Game

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐁𝐝𝐬𝐦, 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐢𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6𝐤

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐛𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲. 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞.

𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ♡

"Y/n get out of your room you can't stay here forever!" You closed your laptop and went to  the entrance of your dorm and to see who was bothering your peace.

You stuck your hand out and pulled your friend close to you by the collar of their shirt and brought them close to you. "If you don't have two fine men in between me I don't want to know what you have to say."

You stuck your hand out and pulled your friend close to you by the collar of their shirt and brought them close to you. "If you don't have two fine men in between me I don't want to know what you have to say."

Your friend took your hand off their collar and smirked while crossing their arms. "But y/n what if I did and could make that fantasy become a reality."

You calmed down and tilted your head as a soft smile appeared, "I'm listening."

They smirked and put their phone in the air as you read a flyer for a club. Plastered on the flyer in bold had the words "WIN THE GAME AND ANY FANTASY YOU DESIRE WILL COME TRUE."

You sent the flyer to yourself and closed the door of your dorm room on your friend. You sat on the corner of your bed as your hand was resting on your chin and thought "Hmm... any fantasy I desire huh, I think I'll give it a try."

You got up from your bed and went into your closet searching for clothes to wear and your search stopped as your eyes were caught on a red sequin fitted dress. You laid the garment out on your bed and looked for some heals to wear that goes with your outfit.

You picked out a gladiator heal that had string wrap around your calves. You went to your phone and looked at the flyer contemplating if you should attend or not, you texted your friend. "What time are you coming to get me?"

They sent a thinking emoji and responded with "Does eleven sound good for you?" You replied a simple yes and since it was five in the afternoon you decided to set an alarm at eight PM to wake you up.

You rested your head on your soft pillow on your bed and scrunched up your legs and dozed off. As you were sleeping all you could do was imagine every fantasy you desired, the thoughts like being a dominatrix and having men submit to you and the thought of someone pleasing your body but one thought popped in your mind just as you heard the sound of your alarm go off as it screamed.

"WAKE UP BITCH!" You jumped up from the sound of your alarm and went into your restroom. You wiped your eyes and placed some cold water on your face so your eyes could widen.

You walked to the side of your dresser and picked up your case tfilled with makeup and brushes that would help you get ready for the night. You placed your makeup on and fixed your hair.

You put your dress over your head and wiggled into it as it hugged your curves. You wrapped your shoes around your calves and took your hand bag and headed out of the door to meet up with your friend.

As you walked out into the campus parking lot you heard a yell. "HEYY Y/N I'M OVER HERE!" You turned and headed to there car and opened the passenger door and stepped one foot into the car and made yourself comfortable.

Your friend faced you and said " You ready for tonight?" You nodded and you couldn't stop thinking any fantasy I want will come to life.

Your friend dropped you off at the entrance and you walked through the big silver doors and sighted out your surroundings. Your eye was caught on a sign that said " A bet on a fantasy."

You walked past the sign and saw a sign up sheet and wrote your name down in the number three slot. You walked over to a couch as the other contestants waited.

The flyer never said it would be one winner or multiple but your eyes were set on the prize. You heard someone call your name "Y/n!"

You got up and followed the person into a room that was all black with a table of tarot cards on it. In the room was two other guys one that had white hair with an undercut with ocean blue eyes.

Another that had black eyes with long black hair with ear gauges. You sat yourself at the table and you shook hands with the men.

The one with the white hair had introduced himself as Gojo. The long black haired one mentioned that his name was Getou.

The dealer dealt out cards and the one with a card with a better future that was flipped over choose who the winner was. It was a game of fortune.

The three of you had one card and on the count of three the winner would be revealed.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE NOW FLIP!"

You flipped your card over and it was a ten of swords upward and that meant good luck. Gojo flipped his and he got an upward death and Geto flipped his and for a devil upwards.

The dealer looked at you and directed you to the back since you have a winning card. He asked you "So what's the fantasy you would want to come true?"

You confidently responded "A threesome with the two I played if they're down?" He nodded and walked out into the room and asked for their consent.

The dealer came back and nodded and asked you to follow him. You followed him as the two tall men were behind you into the direction of a bedroom.

You walked into the room and the men stood while smirking at each other then looked at you. Geto said to you "Y/n are you ready? Because we won't go soft on you."

"I'm ready for you to do your worst." You smirked at them. Getou walked towards you and lifted your chin as he smashed his lips against yours and Gojo went on his knees and began trailing kisses up your thigh.

You moaned in between kisses as his tongue slipped into your mouth and your tongues swirled with each other. You felt your legs become weak as you felt Gojo move your underwear to the side and laid his tongue in between the lips of your pussy.

"Fuc~" You moaned out as you were collapsing against the ground. "Y/n let me lay you on the bed." Gojo said as he. Picked you up and made you lay on your back.

He slid your underwear off and tugged you by your legs closer to his face as he became licking up all your juices. As you were laying about climax you felt Getous lips press against your nipple and he became biting it and sucking it as if you were breastfeeding him.

Gojo began to put his fingers in moving them in and out as he sucked on your clit you climaxed and came all over Gojo's face and he pulled you in by your neck as if his hand was your personal necklace and tongue kissed you making you taste yourself.

Getou pushed him back and placed you on his lap as he was craving his dick inside you. You positioned yourself on his dick and began to grind against his thigh, Gojo felt left out and began to kiss your neck.

Getou looked you in your eyes and said "Bounce for me like the whore you are." You obeyed his command and began to bounce up and down on his dock as your walls griped every inch he had.

"Geto~" As you were about to climax you pulled his hair back and as you covered his thighs in your juices. Gojo and Getou looked at each other and winked. You thought everything would be over after you came twice but you felt yourself being flipped on your stomach with your face down and your ass up.

You didn't mind it but you didn't expect it. Gojo cupped your ass with his hands and as your back wasn't arched all the way he slapped your ass causing you to whimper. "ARCH FOR ME BEFORE I MAKE THIS LITTLE SLAP TURN INTO A HAND PRINT!"

You arched your back and Gojo rubbed his dick on your pussy teasing you before he easily entered your hole making you grip the sheets as you felt every inch in you. You looked up to see Getou in front of you and looked you in your eyes.

"Y/n do you want to be face fucked by me?" You nodded and opened your mouth. He inserted his dick into your  mouth and one hand placed it on your head and slowly stroked himself in and out of you.

Spit came dripping from your mouth and your moans vibrated on Getous dick making him bite his bottom lip and tilt his head back. "You're such a pretty slut with my dick in your mouth."

Just as Getou praised you gojo put his thumb in and his strokes began to speed up and you would hear his heavy breathing from behind. "Shit y/n your pussy feels so good let us paint you with our cum."

You began to bounce back on his dick making him cum faster and started sucking on Getou's tip as you felt his dick move a bit and was about to cum in your mouth. Just as they were about to cum in you they pulled out and flipped you on your stomach and painted your body from your face to your stomach with their cum.

Getou kissed your forehead and said "Good girl, our numbers are in your hand bag call us anytime. We'll be waiting on our round two."

#anime smut #anime x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto smut #geto suguru #geto x y/n #jjk geto #jjk gojo #oneshot #nova writes 🪐

[localcactushugger]

Is anyone else amazed that Hawks was only "undercover" with the Leauge for 6 months at the most.

Not only that, one and a half of those 6 months were spent just trying to gain enough trust to infiltrate.

I know it seems like much longer since Hawks made his Manga debut 2 years ago. But he had such a short amount of time on this mission. Hawks was introduced in the manga with his role being the "double agent". We literally have not seen Hawks outside of his "spy" role. Even when he is interacting with other characters outside of the Leauge, his "mission" is still happening in the background.

It seems Hawks made contact with Dabi right before the Hero Billboard chart, this is when he starts trying to infiltrate. His interaction with Dabi in the warehouse begins immediately after Endeavors fight with High-End:

During this time, Dabi is testing out a High-End Nomu for doctor Ujiko. Which means by the time Endeavor fights High-End, the My Villain Academia arc is already happening. Hawks is assumed to be one of the "members" Dabi is trying to recruit:

The Leauge has already made contact with doctor Ujiko, and the Doctor sends Dabi to test his High-End Nomu out on Endeavor (even though Dabi didn't know it would be Endeavor) while the rest of the Leauge battle Machia. At the time, Dabi still doesn't trust Hawks at all and he keeps the hero at arms length. While Dabi and Hawks are sharing ominous phone calls, the Leauge is hauling ass and it take's Shigiraki a month and a half to finally beat Machia. (The MLA is "defeated" too):

After a month and a half of phone calls (while the Leauge gets their asses handed to them by Machia in the background) Hawks is finally allowed into the Leauge when the battle of Dekia City is finally over. Dabi let's him in because Hawks "kills" Best Jeanist.

But there's a problem. By the time Hawks is let in, The Leagues numbers have drastically increased. They have an army at their side, multiple High-End nomu, and are now called the MLA:

Hawks blames himself, saying that he was "too late". That so many civilians would be alive now if he had been faster. He couldn't round up the Leauge when they were a small group, and now they have an army. A powerful one:

He's in too deep now. And you can see the stress on his face. I bet he never expected to be part of an army. He was simply tasked to round up the Leauge members while they were a small group, but the MLA was completely unexpected. Still, he decides to improvise and do the best he can with the shitty cards he's been dealt. It's not like he has another option at this point.

So he slips a coded message to Endeavor ASAP. Basically saying "yo, in four months shits about to go down. Ttyl I'll keep you posted lol". He can't tell the guy in person now, because to make things harder, he has camera's on his wings. (and even though he's being watched by camera's, he also gets followed by guards at the mansion):

After Hawks relays the massge, he stroles around the mansion with his bodyguard and heads towards the cafeteria. With a little eavesdropping (courtesy of his feathers) he also finds out that the Leauges plan is to "Destroy Everything" in four months:

After he relays the massage to Endeavor, he listens to the Leauges plans of destruction as his thoughts run a thousand M.P.H.

Because now "capture the Leauge" has turned into "Holy shit I now only have 4 months to take down a full fledged terrorist organization/army from the inside-out by myself while I'm being monitored 24/7 with absolutely no privacy & also a full time job as a hero + a public image to maintain. And I can only contact my fellow pro's about this mission through code because if the villains find out I'm a double agent I could be killed and Japan could be destroyed. Also some heros have even joined the MLA so who on my own side can I trust? Only a select specific few for now I guess."

If you thought things couldn't get worse your wrong.

Because around 2 months before the raid Hawks' heart (that wants to be free & has a genuine desire to help people) takes shit a bit too far when it makes him get attached to a certain powerful villain.

Hawks quckily finds out that Twice is easily the second most powerful villain in the Leauge after Shigiraki. He's an S ranked villain and he'll kick your ass with the power of friendship anyday. He's a great guy, but him and the Leauge are still planning on doing horrible things within the next 2 months. Twice is going along with it because he wants to stick by his friends, which y'know, is a cool motive. But considering that fact that the people Hawks is trying to protect ALSO have friends, and family's, this makes shit difficult and sends Hawks on some major guilt trips. (I would show all the panels of Hawks sadly smiling as Twice calls him a "good guy", but alas- Tumblr has informed me that I've reached my 10 image per post limit)

And tbh who wouldn't feel bad about suddenly getting attached to such a golden retriever of a man and then realizing you'll have to double-cross him at some point! I'm not surprised Hawks would feel this way, especially considering the fact that he never wanted to take on this mission in the first place.

Hawks is very much a people person, and he HATES lying even when he has no other option. This is a man who got "shivers up his spine" when he had to put on a serious face while handing Endeavor a book with coded messages inside. He literally felt icky and thought "this is low even for me" just because he had to use a deadly expression so that Endeavor would get the gist.

And when the Commission made their "proposal" about this mission, Hawks' first reaction was to call them out on their B.S. for asking him to put civilian lives at risk. He even admitted that he was feeling bad about sending Tokoyami away while talking to Deku, Shoto, and Bakugo. Hawks felt guilty about not being able to spend more time with his student, but considering that things with the MLA were starting to get riskier, and that Hawks literally handed Endeavor a book with a coded message inside about an uprising 2 seconds later, I can see why he wouldn't want to risk Tokoyami being around him. The fact that the camera's on Hawks' wings caught his interactions with Endeavor & the students also makes the creep‐factor worse. The MLA saw everything AND talked about it in a meeting later. Continuing to train with Tokoyami would put him at risk.

I love the complexity of Hawks' character, he's incredibly intelligent, logical, and intuitive. But at the same time throughout this entire mission his heart is constantly battling with his mind. Even when he knows he has to grit his teeth and do something shifty, his heart never fails to put up a fight with his logistics. Honestly it's been a pattern for a while that Hawks' sympathy always "Trips him up" in some way, so idk why I didn't see it coming around to bite him in the ass later.

(Tbh it's hard for me to see Hawks as a this super "Morally Gray" person that the fandom likes to paint him as because of a mission that he only spent 6 months on. I personally, kinda see Hawks as a "good person" who works for a "morally gray" agency. But that's a whole different meta)

Basically, Hawks getting attached to Twice wasn't a surprise. But considering how powerful Twice was, along with his role in the League's destructive plans (He was a lieutenant in one of the MLA's "Units") the discourse going on in Hawks' mind makes sense. By this point Hawks has already figured out all of the MLA's "Units" along with the three "bosses" that support the lieutenants of those "Units". It's noted that those "bosses" are extremely powerful and can match the strength of the heros as well. It took Hawks an entire month just to figure out all of the "Units" members. (I would show the panels explaining all of this but I'm at my photo limit)

All of these members were tasked to follow their lieutenants and bosses, and the plan was to attack all of Japans major cities at the same time. Once the cities were destroyed and chaos had set in, Redestro and feel good inc. Would distribute support items to the remaining citizens in the name of "self-defense". It would create a country full of discourse and destruction where Redestro and Feel good inc. Would rule from the shadows. But Shigiraki would be the main leader. He would become "king" and sit upon a "throne of rubble". (At least this was the MLA's plan, Shigiraki himself just kinda wants to destroy everything. But I suppose this would make things easier for him to do that.)

needless to say, the stakes have been upped excessively. But it took Hawks an entire month to gather this info.

This post is honestly just me marveling at what an M.V.P Hawks is

My guy literally only had 4 months to take down an entire terrorist organization for the inside-out. AND he was being monitored during that entire time. He figured out the MLA's intentions within the first month of being there. And it took him another full month to go into detail and figure out all the members, bosses, and lieutenants, for each of their "Units". Hawks even went as far as to immerse himself in the MLA's ideology, and he had in-depth discussions with the MLA's members. HELL HE EVEN FAKED HIS CO-WORKERS DEATH JUST TO GET IN.

AND HE PRETTY MUCH IMPROVISED ALL OF THIS SHIT!!! The original plan was to capture the Leauge when they were a small group! But by the time Hawks managed to infiltrate, The Leauge already had an army! They were a full-blown organization! And Hawks just kinda rolled with it??? He just kinda bullshitted his way through??

Like, "okay I'm now apart of an army I guess. The Leauge is now an entire organization and they're planning on destroying Japan in March. Let's see how this goes. I'll just have to make this work"???

LIKE HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD! WHAT A FUCKING MADLAD

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha hawks #hawks mha #mha hawks #hawks bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha meta #hawks meta #pro hero hawks #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #bnha spoiler #mha spoiler

[breakingsomething]

Dawn Station - Part Two

Basic summary: Chase Brody is being kept safe, far away from other people. So he thinks.

Content warnings: gore, body horror, stabbing, emeto, death mentions

Chase Brody is not ok.

Of course he's not. How is he expected to be? Ten people have died, and now he's being told he's next. He's been under police protection for days and judging by the strained snippets of conversation that he's caught from officers, even the others that had been with him are gone. Ten people, they had said. As far as Chase is aware, there were only nine other youtubers who'd been roped into this shit. Who else has this monster that wants them dead killed along with them? Does he even want to know?

He's been in this room for… three days? Four? Fuck, he doesn't remember. All he knows now is white walls, too close around him, with a bed, a tv in the top corner that he doesn't have a remote for, a black bin, a rolling table that's covered in books and other assorted things that he managed to bring with him, and two doors, one of which that leads to a small bathroom and one of which that leads outside. The second door only opens when he's being brought food. No one's telling him anything. He's scared out his mind.

An officer, a pale skinned woman with orange braids and a sympathetic smile, comes in a couple hours after he wakes for the day with breakfast. Toast, cold, with butter slabs and little packets of jam and sugar for his tea. Also cold. "Sorry, we don't have any Weetabix," she tells him with furrowed eyebrows and a sad tilt of the mouth as she clicks the door behind him. "We do have Cheerios and porridge, if you want something more to eat."

It's all he can do not to laugh. "No, thank you," says Chase, in a hoarse voice that hasn't been used in hours. "I want my phone back."

The officer winces. Her eyes are dark, crimson lipstick slightly smudged. Her nametag says "Sarah" on it in violet ink. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, in a voice so soft and falsely sympathetic it makes Chase want to scream. "I don't know if we can do that. We -"

"The others are dead, aren't they?" Chase interrupts. He knows this already. But it's worth saying to see the woman flinch. "All of them. So much for your oh-so-safe "police custody" bullshit."

She attempts to gather herself as professionally as she can, which is seemingly rather difficult. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and something about her tone is more genuine than before. "They are. But I swear to you, Mr Brody, we are doing everything we can to -"

"If I am going to die today," Chase says, interrupting again. "I want to talk to my goddamn family one more fucking time. Please get me my phone."

She stiffens, but gives a jerky little nod. He doesn't smile at her as she leaves. Not much to smile about. But she comes back ten minutes later and wordlessly hands him his slim rose phone, no expression on her face. He manages to upturn the corner of his lips in response.

Once she's left again, he turns his phone on and practically sighs at the sight of his two kids on his lockscreen. Little Connor and Louise, tiny kiddos, dressed up in their pristine school uniforms and grinning cheesily. His heart swells, and he swallows hard as the lump in his throat seems to expand. He can't cry. He's been crying enough lately. To think that two weeks ago, he was ecstatic to be receiving an email from Jack Mcloughlin himself, giving him the opportunity to play his new game's demo early. Look at him now.

Stacy is at the top of his contacts list, but only because he has her favourited still. He's not sure why. It just feels right to have her there. Her picture is a small, grainy image of her face next to a three year old Connor's. He has her looks more than Louise. Louise looks like her dad. She's a daddy's girl. Chase misses her so much it aches, and closes his eyes as he clicks Stacy's number.

She answers almost immediately. "Chase?" she yells, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ears. He hears her inhale sharply. "Sorry. Christ, Chase - Where the fuck are you?"

He swallows again, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. His legs are already beginning to bounce. "Police didn't tell you anything, huh," he mutters. "I'm in custody. They're apparently "keeping me safe," but I'm well aware of the fact that the others - Persephone, Rodney, Stanley, and Khia - are. Well." He clears his throat. "Dead."

He says it so matter of factly that you wouldn't know how close he was to tears had you not seen his face.

Stacy shifts, and Chase hears a door slam faintly. Two small voices giggle far off. He bites down on his lip as Stacy talks again. "Yeah. That's… yeah. Chase, I'm sorry. Uh… Jack Mcloughlin's dead too."

Chase sits bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. "What?"

Stacy sounds alarmed. "I - Yes, did they not tell you? He died maybe two days ago. Same way as all the others. I'm sorry, Chase."

He can't breathe for a moment. Then he's numb and his body settles into cold, unfeeling static.

"Ok," he says flatly. "Great."

"Chase -"

"How are the kids?" he asks before she can finish. He's tired. He's been doing nothing but sleeping and he's tired. "I can hear them in the background, ha. Sounds like a fun time."

He can hear her scratching the space behind her ear. She does that when she's anxious. Nervous habit. She had gotten a little tattoo of a bee there when they were seventeen. It was a dare from their friend Daniel, who had also gotten a tattoo of a crocodile on his left thigh. Chase has a black bear on his right shoulder from the same occasion. When he and Stacy had been together, they would sometimes kiss the other's tattoos and descend into giggles remembering that slightly drunken night back in Ireland. His chest feels tight thinking about it. His eyes glaze over, and he tries to focus on something across the room.

"They're… not great," Stacy murmurs after a moment, making him jump. He had almost forgotten she was there. "Some brat at school told them about - this whole situation. Told them their dad was going to die. Apparently, she made up a song about it."

Chase hisses softly, grateful for another emotion besides grief and missing to focus on. "Fuck's sake. Which kid was this?"

"You know that girl who was making fun of Louise's accent last year and put chips in her hair?"

"That kid again? I thought the school dealt with her."

A sigh. "Apparently not. They came home in tears. I've been keeping them home since then."

Chase shakes his head in disbelief. "Shit, Stace. Can I… can I talk to them?"

She sighs again. "I… I suppose. But - how have you been? I take it its not been great, but are you at least ok?"

What counts as ok? He doesn't know. "I'm not dead yet. So there's something. I guess I can't really say much more than that."

"Papa?" cries a voice on the end of the line, and a grin breaks Chase's face as he recognizes his son, Connor, yelling from somewhere quite close to Stacy. "Is that Papa? Mama, let us talk - Louise, Papa's on the phone!"

Chase can't help but laugh as his daughter also chimes in, two little voices clamoring for his attention. "Calm down, kiddos, there's plenty of me to go round," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face so he can concentrate. "How are you both? One at a time, Louise first."

"Favouritism," he hears Connor sulk, but the boy quiets.

"I'm ok," Louise beams. He can hear her smile, and sees it when he closes his eyes. "I can't go to school cause Megan Penicuik was being mean. We made cookies, though, me and Con-Con! All by ourselves, no help from Mama at all!"

"Now, that's simply not true," he hears Stacy laugh in the background. Chase laughs too, his heart suddenly aching. Something weighs heavy in his chest, but he tries to push it away, feeling sick.

A scuffle on the end of the line, and then it's Connor speaking. "I miss you, Papa!" he cries. "I wanna give you a - a chocolate chip cookie, I have one here." His voice becomes muffled, and Chase hears him chewing. "Yum yum yum. Can we push a cookie down the phone? Like, through the speakers, Mama!"

Chase listens to a small squabble break out, then hears Stacy sigh dramatically. "They're doing just fine," she says, sounding so tired, yet vaguely amused. "I… I hate to say it, but I should probably go. Connor's games club is in half an hour and I haven't gotten ready at all. My makeup's a state." Her voice softens. "Will you be… ok?"

Will he? He doesn't know.

"Stace," he murmurs. His chest feels tight. "I could die. Like, tonight. That's what people are saying. I'm the last one left."

A pause, then Stacy lets out a shaky sigh. "Christ, Chase…"

He gathers his strength. "Listen. Listen, Stace. If I die tonight - I just want you to know how much I love you, ok? Even if we… if we weren't meant to be together anymore. You're one of my best friends, you know? So… take care of the kids. Don't lose yourself. And by god, don't start drinking again."

She gives a choked laugh. "Chase. God, I - Don't fucking die tonight."

He doesn't know how to tell her he won't have a choice.

As soon as the call's ended, he opens up his roommate's contact. He can't stand the echoing silence that seems to go on forever in the minute or so before the ringing starts. He supposes that if tonight is his last night alive, he should say goodbye. Even if it hurts. Even if it makes him feel sick to say it.

He nearly sobs with relief when he hears the line click, and a familiar German accent speak loudly in his ear. "Chase?"

Chase sniffles, laughing softly. "Hey, Henny."

Henrik curses, and something slams. "Mother of God, Chase Brody, do you have any idea - Are you - Fuck, are you alright?"

Good question. "I don't know," he admits, bouncing his leg anxiously, and staring at his chipped black nails. "I mean, I'm… scheduled to die tonight. So probably not. Really, I've been weirdly calm about all this."

Henrik huffs, and Chase can almost picture him getting red in the face, yanking back his hair and staring out the window of their flat with narrowed, pale blue eyes. "They have not done anything about it? Surely it is not possible that a murderer who is killing in patterns cannot be apprehended? You would think that would be easy, especially if you are being held in high security. Motherfucking useless British police. Not that German ones were much better, but Christ -"

Chase cuts him off before he can rant for another five minutes. "How are the others? Are Jackie, Marv and Jem holding up ok?"

Henrik sighs, blowing out his cheeks. "Mhm. Marvin has gone a bit mad. Fucking idiot is spending way too much time online, reading up on your situation. He seems convinced that you are going to die as well. According to Jackie, he spent all of yesterday out of the house and came back saying he had been performing. But Jackie says he had not had any parties scheduled for that day, so he was talking shit."

Chase winces. His friend Marvin is a child's birthday party performer, a magician, and spends a lot of time perfecting fun tricks and illusions to add into his routine. Chase knows how much he enjoys his job. But he also knows that Marvin's habit of spending hours on internet forums and sites, learning things from other performers, can be bad for him. "Christ. I… Goddammit it. How's Jackie coping?"

He hears a microwave go off in the background. Henrik mutters something that Chase can't hear, then keeps talking. "Jackie has been at the gym every day since you were taken in. Overworking himself. He did come round yesterday and, uh, spoke about how scared he was for you. Cried a lot, poor man. I am not good with comforting people, but I tried. He does not know what to do with himself anymore."

This isn't surprising. Chase is well aware of Jackie's habit of overexercising and pushing himself too far when he was angry or upset. "And Jameson?"

Something clatters, like Henrik's rummaging in a cupboard. A fridge opens and slams shut, and then Henrik is back. "He has been round at our flat a lot. Did you know Euan ended things with him? I did not, until he told me the day before yesterday. He was dreadfully upset. The timing was… not great, to say the least. I do not think he is doing too well, but he refuses to accept any of the help I wish to give him. He kept asking about me instead. Really, sometimes I wish he was not such a good actor."

So does Chase. Jameson is never one to be open about his feelings, instead trying to help everyone else first. Chase loves him a lot, but he wishes the filmmaker would be less stubborn and insistent that he was always ok. His heart aches at the thought of Jameson suffering alone, especially now - he and his boyfriend Euan had been so close, as well. The thought that he might never be able to figure out what happened between them hurts. "Me too. God, Hen, me too. Give them all my love though, yeah? Tell Marvin to take some time to do self care, and tell Jackie to take breaks, and tell Jameson to talk to his therapist. And you… don't you overwork yourself either. I know what you're like. Only one cup of coffee a day, dude, remember. Don't make me come over there."

Henrik laughs softly, but there's a sadness to it. "You sound as though you are saying goodbye."

Something stabs into Chase's heart. He tries to catch his breath through the lump in his throat. "Henrik. I'm going to die tonight."

There's a long pause. He can hear Henrik adjusting, rubbing his face and knocking his glasses askew. Maybe he knows his roommate too well. Far too well, maybe well enough that he knows what he'll say next. "There has to be another way."

Chase shakes his head despite Henrik being unable to see him. "No. No, Hen, no. This - this is what's happening, and we can't just… fix it. I wish we could, cause I don't even understand why, and it's so scary, and… God, I wish we could. I have so much left I want to do, and…"

He trails off. Henrik doesn't speak. Chase imagines him pulling the phone away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his mouth so as not to cry. The image hurts. Chase hurts. He holds the phone tight, aching to be somewhere, anywhere else other than here.

"You know," he says, voice choked as he speaks. "It's ironic how much I wanted to die a few months ago, and now I'm here, and I'm suddenly so scared."

"You are not going to die," Henrik suddenly shouts. There is anger in his voice that Chase knows is not directed at him. "You are not. It will not just all end like that, Chase Brody. I will not let it."

Something hot pricks the backs of Chase's eyes. He swallows hard, his chest tightening, his legs bouncing harder. "Henrik. Henrik, I - I have to go. I have to go. I'm sorry. I love you, dude. You know that? I love you."

"Chase," Henrik practically sobs. "Shit, I love you too. But you are not going to die."

Chase ends the call and throws up in the black bin next to his bed.

-

Night comes quickly, Chase thinks.

He thinks, because an officer comes to take his phone soon after his call with Henrik ends. He's starting to regret hanging up, but it had to have been what was best. Of course it was what was best. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does. This is something he has to keep telling himself. No need to make this hurt so much more than it already does.

The officers ask what he wants for dinner that night instead of giving him choices. He gets it. It's a last meal. He takes full advantage of it and orders pepperoni cheese stuffed crust pizza and garlic sticks, his favourite, with barbeque sauce and churros. It all tastes like cardboard. He eats it anyway, because he's bored and his mouth still tastes like vomit and if he's going to die, it's only fitting that he goes out with a Domino's in him.

Before he's even finished eating, an armed guard comes and takes him across the building. It's the first time he's left his room in days, and he's surprised to see how dark it is outside, how little people are around. The few people he does see stare at him, some open mouthed with awe, some with sad eyes like a parent trying to tell their child that their pet fish died. Chase stares at the floor. Stares at the gun tucked into the waistband of the officer in front of him. He's scared, and his heart is racing faster than it has in years, and he thinks he's dissociating a little because he doesn't feel real and his fingertips are numb. Adrenaline thrums through his body, warming him and erasing the painful cold. Fuck, but he's scared. He's so, so goddamn scared.

He's taken to an entirely different room, a slightly bigger one that looks nearly the same, but with wooden chairs sat all around the border. There's no TV in this room. "Sit here," one of the officers says, guiding him to the blue covered bed and gesturing for him to sit. He does so, feeling silly and light with panic. He thinks he's going to be sick again. His breaths aren't coming right and fuck, he might faint from the sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness that's washing over him now.

One of the officers that has just come in walks over and sits next to him. He's in full uniform, a radio on his vest, a bat strapped to his belt. "Are you alright, Mr Brody?" he asks gently, looking at him with kind brown eyes, and Chase sobs with relief for some kind of comfort.

"H-h-having a p-panic attack," he stammers, shifting on the bed to try and feel something, clawing at his skin under his grey hoodie and desperately trying not to cry. "N-need my - my - my asth-ma in-inhaler, p-please, I can't br-breathe -"

He's brought his inhaler, and he clutches it gratefully, clinging to it like a child. The cold button grounds him. Maybe, maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut tight enough, he'll wake up in his bed at home and be able to get up and shower in a bathroom that's not small or lit too brightly and then he can go downstairs to the kitchen to find Henrik half asleep at the table, three cups of coffee in front of him, wearily participating in whatever Chase's dumb early morning joke is, and then he can eat toast that's not burnt or done too lightly and play his music while he writes or goes on a walk outside. Maybe. Maybe.

The armed guards keep watch over him for two full hours.

Chase Brody is terrified.

It's when it hits the two and a half hour mark that he begins to notice anything different. A faint ringing in his ears. He thinks it's his tinnitus and waves it off, simply swatting at the air around his head like that will help at all. One of the guards notices immediately. "Sir, are you alright?"

Chase nods. He's not, but he doesn't need them dithering over him. Unfortunately, the guard doesn't let up. "Seriously, it's important that you tell us what's happening. Anything at all. Anything that could help you."

Well, that's reassuring. "Strange noise," he murmurs, shaking his hair out his face. "I think it's just me, though, I'm alright -"

But the guard is standing, muttering something into the radio strapped to his chest, and is it Chase's imagination, or are more people entering the room? "What's happening?" he asks, but he gets no response, and he's starting to feel strangely dizzy and tired, like something heavy is dragging his eyelids down. "I don't… h-hey, I don't feel too… too well…"

Someone is speaking to him but the world is already blurring, his head light, floaty. "Stacy?" he slurs, trying to get a grip on the bedsheets beneath him. "Someone needs t'... m'kids, they…"

-

Chase Brody is no longer in the same room as he was before.

He doesn't know when that changed. He can't pinpoint the exact moment where the walls darkened and raised with pipes and doors and panels, he doesn't know when his bed disappeared beneath him and the floor became sticky and black, he doesn't know when the bright light of his room became a soft blue glow, lighting up the room from behind him. He doesn't know when the room had stretched both ways into a long hallway, lined with slivers of light through the windows. He doesn't know why, when he stands, his legs nearly crumple beneath him. And when he turns - god, when he turns, and he looks out the enormous windows behind him - he doesn't know why a calming sensation of numbness settles over him, burning his skin like pins and needles.

He is staring out at the vast abyss of space.

It's a blackness he's never seen before. It seems to go on forever, and maybe it does, and there is nothing but tiny pinpricks of silver light of gaseous stars piercing the inky nothingness. Nothing but that, and the ball of green and blue that Chase knows, somewhere in his mind. Earth. Earth, where he is and isn't, where his body should be, where he never left, and what kind of nightmare is this? What kind of sick nightmare, he thinks dizzily, his thoughts chugging slowly as though through a thick soup. Everything is spinning. There is no sound, the world is broken, and the space is fucking endless.

Move, says the tiny part of his brain that still has sense. Get out. Get out.

His footsteps echo on the metal panes of the floor, and he resists the tightening urge in his stomach to vomit.

He doesn't know why this place is familiar.

The hallway seems to go on forever. All the doors along the way to the left have small, glowing panels beside them that seem to demand some type of access keycard, which Chase very much does not have. Eventually he reaches one that he can open, and stumbles into a large room with a table in the centre, the walls covered in photos and clippings that he doesn't bother taking closer looks at. There is only one small window in here, over a sleek black couch that seems to have nearly been shredded right through the middle. The table has a bolted down chair and a large pile of papers next to a cracked laptop that splutters weakly as it asks for a password. The room is too dark. Chase slowly walks through it, wincing at the sound his boots make on the floor, wincing at the silence, heart racing with the promise of another panic attack that he pushes down forcefully, gripping his own wrist for support. This isn't right, screams the universe. This is too familiar. This is too real. This is too familiar to be real.

Chase has noticed that everything in this place, despite its immediate appearance of immaculate properness, seems to be slightly out of place. This becomes more apparent in the room adjacent to the one he'd just been in, a room filled with sealed metal crates and boilers that bubble menacingly from their perches on the walls, a room which has clearly been nearly destroyed. Black claw marks have torn out chunks of the walls, wires ripped from the floor, buzzing weakly and sparking from wherever they were thrown after their violent uprooting. Dark red stains splash across the floor like a tragic painting that makes Chase's stomach upturn sickly. A vent on the ceiling hisses, and the man jumps and bolts, all last dregs of courage leaving him in an instant. He knows this is a dream. This is a dream, nothing is real, nothing is real, it must be just a dream.

"I've gone to hell," he sobs aloud, clamping both hands over his mouth as a cry climbs up his throat. "O-oh my god, I've gone to hell."

This is what you get for being a shitty, alcoholic dad and husband, he thinks, and promptly throws up on the floor next to the fresh bloodstains.

The rooms start to blur. Objects to objects, light to light, black walls and coloured glow and sparks, hissing, echoing rumbles, all becoming one in Chase's mind. He's long gone past the stage of a panic attack; he's in a state of utter numb calm, now. In one room he finds a long, black lighter and holds it tightly in his hands for comfort, twisting it round and round in buzzing fingers just to feel something solid against his skin to ground him. Please, he prays softly, wiping sweat from his forehead, struggling to breathe as his chest tightens and the world seems to grow hotter and smaller. Please, let me wake up, let me wake up from this, please.

And then something is standing behind him.

He doesn't know how he knows. It's just a sensation of silent shock in him, of I am not alone, a stabbing feeling as the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something is there. He feels eyes on him. He can't - fuck, he can't move, and all the emotion in him seems to be rising to a painful crescendo. I am not alone in here. I am not alone in here.

"Who's there," he says in a small, cracked voice, not daring to turn. It's barely a question. "What do you want from me."

Nothing but a low hissing, and, most frightening of all, a rumbling growl that nearly sends Chase to the floor in a faint.

He has to look.

He has to look.

He looks.

It's an… an astronaut.

Neither of them move, and Chase's grip on the lighter in his hands tightens, trying to find some form of comfort, anything. "Why am I here?" he manages, swallowing back hot bile that burns his throat and makes him gag softly. "Why, why, what nightmare is this? Am I dead? Did the killer get me and this is my hell?"

The astronaut is silent.

Fury bubbles in Chase's chest, overriding the fear for a moment. "Talk!" he shouts, perhaps stupidly, but he doesn't care. "Please! What is happening?"

Then things get perhaps even stranger, somehow. A glowing 2D box of light appears in front of the astronaut, hovering in the air, too quiet until black text begins to appear on it, cartoonishly video game like blooping noises playing with each letter. Chase watches in awe. He's unable to speak.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are the Player.

Chase reads the words over and over and over.

"My name is Chase Brody," he says, voice wavering with uncertainty, because something here is wrong, wrong, wrong, so ridiculously wrong, and he hates the way things are clicking in his mind. "I shouldn't - be here. I think I'm dreaming and I want to go home."

The text flashes.

<TheAnti.chr_v09> You are <player_variable_BroAverage>. You are the Player.

Chase feels like he's above his body, like nothing he's seeing is real anymore. "Please let me go home."

<TheAnti.chr_v09> I am <TheAnti.chr_v09>. I am the Anti. You are the player. Player objective: escape. Anti objective: kill the Player. Initialization - Upon game startup, play <soundtrack_opening2>, set spawn and character sprites -

Chase can't take this. "Stop it!" he cries, and he shouldn't step forwards so confidently, but he does, slashing his hand through the air in front of him. "Tell me what you -"

The astronaut explodes.

No. No, it doesn't explode; Chase's mind is taking a moment to make sense of it, to rationalize the way the helmet has shattered and there is nothing but sheer white and glowing green eyes, hundreds of them, underneath, the largest one on the being's neck, splitting open with disgustingly inhuman squelching sounds, and the way the suit has torn and a mouth has opened up on the stomach, a gaping maw with knives for teeth and a slimy crimson tongue, and the way rips open along the material and more eyes open, burning red skin like charred meat, black veins rising under its skin. It hisses and cracks and growls and hums and it isn't like anything Chase has ever seen before, or maybe it is, because he knows this monster. He's seen this monster. And fuck, now he knows why this world is familiar, because he's been here, he's played this game. This can't be real. This can't be real.

"Posttraumatic nightmares," he can hear Henrik saying to him, the man's voice comforting. "Nightmares that occur after a traumatic event and can contain, what is the word… recurring themes that make you experience intense negative emotions. Maybe that is why you are having such strange dreams, my friend. You have been through a lot in these past few weeks."

That had been months ago. I thought I got over those dreams. I thought I got over those dreams.

He's running. His legs are already burning, chest already tight, why did he have to have used all his energy on his panic attack? Is the monster still following him? Chase can't turn to check, and the blood in his veins is racing through his body faster than he's used to, his heart in his ears as he flies round a corner, barely able to catch a breath. This isn't real, he thinks. It's another nightmare. Please, this isn't real, this isn't -

And then something wet is snaking round his chest, pulsing in a way that makes Chase gag, and something sharp presses into the skin on his back and a burst of numbness runs over him like cold water, causing his body to go limp against the alien - because it is an alien, isn't it, he knew this already - behind him. Cold heaviness seeps through his veins, combatting the light weightlessness that the adrenaline was giving him. He tries to cough again, to speak as his lungs empty of air, but the alien only grips his arms tight enough to piece his skin with sharp claw-like fingers. A glance down at his chest, and he sees the tip of the bloodstained rod jutting through his skin. It doesn't really register. A light laugh escapes his lips, because it's funny, really, how he's about to die at the hands of a video game antagonist.

No, he's not about to die. This isn't real. It can't be, it's another bad dream, of course it is. But if it's not real, then what happened to Jack Mcloughlin and the others, all of those… all of…

The world spins.

And the world lights up in flames.

Chase had briefly forgotten about the lighter he'd picked up for support, and now he's putting it to good use; one flick of the switch and the alien is alight as though it had been soaked in gasoline, burning orange spreading across its suit, the crackling drowning out the monster's screeches. Its grip loosens on Chase's arms, and he pulls free, and the universe spins as the rod in his chest slips out like it's nothing, leaving a gaping emptiness in him. Please, he screams, in his mind or out loud, he doesn't know. Please. Please.

Please, wake me up.

-

White light. It floods the whole world, for just a moment, and then Chase's eyes are open and he is gasping for air, hands flying to his chest and feeling nothing but the soft material of his shirt, no pain except for the squeeze of his lungs as he coughs desperately into his sleeve. There are people surrounding him now; the police officers and armed guards from before, helping him sit up, holding a sick bucket in front of him as he throws up the little that's left in his stomach weakly, too much noise but nowhere near as bad as the silence of the Dawn Station. Nowhere near as bad as the hissing creaks of the Anti. Nowhere near as bad as his nightmare, because it was a nightmare, of course that wasn't real - nowhere near as bad as the nightmare that he'd thought was going to kill him.

I lived. I survived the night.

He's had this thought before, but this time, it's met with relief.

-

"You dreamed about the setting of a video game."

"Not just any video game. The, uh… the new Jack Mcloughlin game, Dawn Station. All the people who played the demo… died. I didn't die. The night I was supposed to, after all the others, I - I dreamed about the game. And the antagonist of the game. It's this, uh, this alien thing, in an astronaut suit. Tried to kill me. Apparently it's weak to fire, although I don't remember that from the actual game, maybe it was a secret that wasn't in the demo we were all sent, but I burned it, and it stabbed me, and I got away, not - not in that order. Does that… does that make sense, doctor?"

Dr. Ross scrutinizes Chase for a moment before turning his chair back to face his computer. The sound of his mouse clicking fills the room, off beat from the eternal clicking of the plain white clock on the plain white walls, decorated only with bookshelves and trays of medicines. Chase has never been in a more boring doctor's office. Usually his therapy sessions have more to look at, but this is a different therapist than he normally goes to, and all he can do is fidget with his hands on his lap and stare out the window at the

earth, the stars, the black abyss of emptiness that Chase could get lost in and never be found

setting sun through the trees just outside the building. The doctor's pen clicks, clicks, clicks. It sounds like the Anti's teeth, chattering against each other as it yawns, its maw opening wide enough for a head to be torn right off. Click, click, click. Chase closes his eyes, the repeating sounds like a mantra. He focuses on that instead. It grounds him.

"You have a history of nightmares."

Chase nods without looking. "I was prescribed triazolam by my first therapist. I took them for a year or so without changes except the lowering of doses a couple of times, because I was getting weaned off them. They helped. Nightmares didn't continue after that."

The other man nods slowly. "Hm. I can imagine the trauma of this recent event that you've been through was enough to bring these nightmares back to the forefront of your mind, especially given the contents of this dream in particular. We may have to ease you back onto medication over the course of your next few sessions here, which should be easier, given that it'll be a couple weeks before we send you home. Is that alright, Mr Brody?"

Click, click, click. Chase nods. Sunlight warms his face, and he sighs softly. "Sounds good, Dr. Ross. When will I be able to see my family?"

The man frowns, his forehead creasing. "Hopefully soon, although it will be slightly complicated, given the circumstances." A breath leaves him, and he tilts his head to the side slightly. His white collar digs into the fold of his neck. Chase keeps his eyes trained on that. "And these are strange circumstances, are they not?"

"They are," Chase mutters. He clenches his fists in his lap. "They are, yeah."

He should have died. He doesn't know why he didn't die. He doesn't even know what it was that killed the others. Really, the nightmare he'd had makes sense. It was easily written off as a traumatic event that had brought back old nightmares. Of course there was no way any of it had been real. That's ridiculous. Just ridiculous. He doesn't know why he's thinking that.

His hand trails down his shirt. Underneath, on the skin of his stomach, is a thick scar that hadn't been there before the nightmare he'd had. Right where the rod had pierced his stomach.

Coincidence. Coincidence.

"Do you have any other concerns, Mr Brody?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good."

Click. Click. Click.

#boop writes #jacksepticeye #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #dawn station

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Five

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, domestic abuse, violence, drug abuse

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"Hey, Nikki, c'mon!" The sound of Fred shouting on the other side of the bathroom door pulls me to my feet, making me swing the door open and catch myself on the side of the doorway before I can face plant. 

His expression is neutral, but I see it in his eyes...he knows they're losing me. "Three more nights to go," he reminds me, "make it count." 

I wipe my mouth, following him down the hallway, catching a glimpse of Vivian talking to Izzy while Steven's got his arms around her hips, pulling her to sit in his lap and she does, patting at his arms while he rests his cheek against her back and closes his eyes to rest a second as her conversation with Izzy doesn't skip a beat. 

Maybe she's sleeping with all of them. 

Not like it matters at this point. 

We're over anyway and I'll probably be dead before either of us can even file. 

She looks like she's about to look at me but I make sure to cut away from looking at her to avoid being caught, grabbing my bass from the tech as Tommy starts in on the drums, the screams of our fans echoing backstage as Mick, Vince and I head under the stage, my fingers lightly brushing against her crucifix around my neck for a split second. 

I'd stolen it when I found it in Duff's bathroom...when people asked me, "dude, how'd you take that news? You kicked his ass, right? You showed that cheating bitch, right?" 

Well…

The Night Before

"Hey, Nikki, man, can you help us with this?" Slash asks me once I get my room's door open, and I raise my brows. 

"With what?" I reply, confused. 

He motions down the hall, and I peek my head out to see Steven and Duff trying to push a desk out of Steven's room.

"We're fucking with hotel. We need help getting the desk, chair, lamp, and night stand from Steven's room into the elevator before someone needs to use it." He explains. 

"So they can have a more comfortable ride." Stevie pipes with a grin. 

I've been locked in my room all day and I won't get to see these guys until the end of next month starting in a few days, so…

"Hell, yeah." I agree, stepping out of the hall. 

"Where's your clothes man?" I ask Duff when I get to him and Steven, helping them push the desk along the carpet, to the elevator. 

He's in his boxers and a pair of his cowboy boots, and he replies, "me and this girl got in an argument and she stole my clothes."

I can't help but laugh. 

Poor Duff, he's probably never dealt with crazy, vindictive, mind-screwing women before. 

We get the desk and chair into the elevator before the doors try to shut, signaling someone needing to use it, and I'm snatching Steven out of there before it goes down. 

Whoever the fuck uses it will probably shit a brick once they realize it's gonna be impossible to get inside without crawling over the desk. 

After that, we get the elevator back pretty quick and finish the job before pressing every button in the elevator to make a stop at every floor, just to make people in need of it wait longer. 

"What're you guys doing?" I hear Viv's voice and turn to see her standing in the hallway with her room door open. 

"None of your fucking business." I snap at her, just as the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal all the fucking furniture, Izzy, and a groupie. 

They're sitting on the desk as if it's no big deal, and Izzy hops off of it and helps his lady friend down, the two of them looking at me and the guys. 

"Good one." Izzy tells us, nodding to the elevator and I chuckle as he passes by, lightly patting at my shoulder, saying, "goodnight, man." 

"Children." I hear Vivian mumble, shutting her door behind her. 

"She's not feeling good today." Duff tells me, trying to get me to drop it before I even pick it up. 

I don't listen, stomping to her door and banging on it. 

She opens it, and I sneer down at her. 

"We're having fun, what the fuck makes you think you can come out and shit on it when nobody even wants you on this fucking tour to begin with?!" I bark at her. 

"Nikki, all I said--"

"--I know what you fucking said because you've been saying it the past six fucking years. We get it. I get it. So just fucking drop it and mind your own goddamn business!" 

She shuts the door in my face, making me kick the door, before taking a breath, and turning to see Steven, Slash, and Duff, trying not to be too uncomfortable. 

"You guys got any booze?" I ask, knowing they do. 

"Yeah, man." Slash nods, motioning me to Duff's room. 

He hands me a bottle of Jack and I start downing it with no hesitation, wrinkling my nose at it's peculiar taste--more peculiar than usual.

"It's half Jack, half Vodka." Slash explains and I wrinkle my nose, my throat on fire as I cough. 

"What the fuck?" I ask, my head swimming, and he shrugs. 

"We got bored and figured we'd try it." 

"Don't let Viv know. She'll pour it out." I mumble, wiping my mouth, sitting on the foot of Duff's bed as he and Steven join us. 

"I know you two have a lot going on but go a little easier on her, man." Slash says to me, next.

"Yeah, you guys are our friends so seeing you fight is weird." Steven adds. 

"Like watching parents try to kill each other in front of their kids." Duff states and I sigh. 

"I know you guys are friends with her but you don't see what she's really like." I insist. "She's fucking nuts." 

"Trust us, we know." Steven scoffs. 

"She's a sweet girl, she's just going through a lot." Duff interjects, grabbing the bottle of jack/vodka from me, taking a sip for himself. 

"She was a sweet girl." I argue calmly. "Breakups just fucking make people unrecognizable. I don't see the chick I proposed to. I see a wicked bitch from hell that possessed her and just uses her body as a disguise." I add. 

None of them say anything, because they can't argue it. 

They see how we treat each other. 

It's a given I'll be an asshole, but when someone like Vivian starts spewing venom, it's because she's lost their fucking mind.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I grumble, feeling my stomach wrench before I'm stumbling to the bathroom, vomit spewing past my lips into the toilet, my hand grasping the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling forward, the sound of the clink of metal against the floor as I accidentally knock one of Duff's necklaces to the bathroom tile. 

Once I'm done puking, I take deep breaths, closing my eyes for a moment before flushing the toilet. 

I reach for the necklace to put it back on the counter, before I get a good look at it. 

It's a small, sparkling cross a little too dainty for Duff...my stomach drops, my mind going back to the night I first met Vivian, when I first saw it around her neck and sneered everytime I looked at it. 

How she took it off before she and I fooled around for the first time, and everytime after that, until we got married…

My blood runs cold, another wave of nausea hitting me, bile rushing up in my throat before I can stop it, splattering onto the floor.

Maybe I would've been prepared had Vince told me what was going on. He'd found out after Sparkie got blacked out on smack and told him what he had discovered about saint Viv. 

It felt like a twenty-five pound weight had busted my balls. I didn't have time to think about it much in the moment.

"Gross." Steven wrinkles his nose a little as he peeks in to check on me. "I'll call the cleaning people." He adds, shutting the door, and I look at the necklace one last time before tucking it into my pocket. I'll confront her with it, later. 

I get out of the bathroom, Duff, Slash and Steven all looking at me.

"Dude, you alright?" Duff asks, smoking a cigarette, and I nod. 

"Yeah. I just feel like shit." I reply, trying to mask the fact I just found out he's been fucking my wife. "I'm gonna go lay down for a few minutes and see if I don't feel a little better." I tell them, stepping to the door. 

"Alright, man." Slash replies. 

"See ya." I mumble as Steven adds, "feel better, Sixx!" 

I get to my room, slamming the door, pacing, throwing my empty bottle of Jack at the wall and watching the glass shatter, my fingers raking through my hair. 

How the fuck could Vivian do this to me? How could Duff? My band gave his band a shot--a good one. I thought he and I were friends. You don't fuck your friend's chick. 

Okay, I fucked Roxy but that was different, I was high. 

Duff isn't into hard drugs and Viv's sober so neither of them have an excuse for it. 

A pit grows in my chest as I think a little more.

What if they were messing around back when she posed for Playboy? Maybe that's why he went with her…or maybe they've been at it since before Vanity let it out that me and her were together…that would explain why Viv hid him from me for so long.

My nostrils flare at the thought. 

Who the fuck does she think she is?! Cheating on me?! Does she realize how many girls would love to be married to me and here she is with my own fucking buddy. Heartless cunt. And he's an ungrateful bastard. I gave his fucking band a shot at getting what they've been hungry for and this is how he repays me? Nailing my wife on the very tour I invited him to play on? 

I take heavy breaths before stepping to the phone, dialing Tansy's room number. 

She's supposed to be back by now from her little break, and when I hear her answer, I sigh in relief. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Tans, whatcha up to?" I ask, grin on my face, knowing exactly what she's about to be up to, if she isn't already.

Tansy and I were like arsenic and cyanide. She was like Vanity--without the batshit craziness, or the sex. We'd hang out and just spend hours getting high together. I was one of her best friends, so it should've been my job to protect her, but if that were the case, I would've been encouraging her to throw her smack and coke out, instead of always wanting to hang out just so we could get high together like it was a bonding experience or something. Yeah, seeing each other at their fucking shittiest really bonds people to one another, right. 

It was a punch in the stomach when I found out about all the hell she'd gone through for years, that made her want to get lost in drugs, and eventually made her want to get lost past the confines of this life. 

A majority of her friends were protective "manly" men who would fist fight a pole if need be, well, Steven, at least. 

We were supposed to protect her. 

And I know, "Well, you didn't know." 

We would've known, had we paid more attention, and I wasn't paying attention because I was like a woodpecker with its head in a branch, except my head was in a pile of smack.

I hang my head over the toilet, vomit pouring from my lips as my head reels with dizziness, my veins aching as Tansy rests against the bathtub, slobber rolling down her chin from being in the same position I'm in only a few seconds ago. 

Our burnt spoons and sharp smelling foils are left to the floor as we're taken over by a monster bigger than ourselves, the sound of Slash, Steven, Duff, and Vivian's laughter from the hallway creeping past my door, slipping under the bathroom's door, pushing through the smoke and mirrors, nearly shattering my high before it even has its full start.

The next night results in the same outcome, only this time, I've decided to pick myself up with help from my favorite smoke, except the hit from the crackpipe comes with the expected.

Sweat beads down my back as I shake, curled up in the bathtub with the shower's curtain pulled, hearing the footsteps of my room's intruder. 

"Nikki?" A familiar voice calls softly, but the demon in my ear overpowers my want to go to her. 

I curl further into myself, squeezing my eyes closed, my shaking hand gripping at the cross around my neck that belongs to her. 

"If you're real just make it go away." I'm saying before I can stop myself. "Help me cut this shit, and give me my wife back." 

I knew I hit rock bottom when I prayed to a God I didn't even believe in…and I guess, in the end, my prayer was answered, but fuck if I didn't get in my own way.

I finally coax myself out of the tub after a few more minutes, seeing the light is off in my room under the door, before I open the bathroom door, my hair standing on end, my bare, ragged feet moving as quietly as I can move them as I pad onto the carpet, stepping to the bed where a figure is laid out, the shine of red hair across a pillow radiating from the bathroom light drifting into the room. Peaceful, sleeping features show no threat, but something wicked is beating in my head as I slowly approach her, my boney knuckle rubbing at her cheek, slowly, opting a tired, soft moan to leave her, her body shifting before stilling. 

I know it's bullshit. It's a facade. I know she's waiting for me to fall out so she can leech off of me. 

Fucking witch. 

If I pass out, she'll strike, and I won't make it out alive. 

Her nails are clawing blood from my arms as she gasps out, kicking her feet when my hands lock around her throat, my eyes glossing over as she tries to scream out. 

Her hand bangs, hard, against the wall the bed is against, her hands trying to fight me off as tears roll down her cheeks, her face beginning to turn a deeper shade of red. 

"Nikki, what the--Nikki, what the fuck?!" I hear Fred's voice, but I hear it as if I'm under water, my focus captivated completely as my eyes burn into Vivian's before I'm being snatched off of her and thrown into the floor. 

She's a coughing, gagging, gasping, crying mess. 

"What the fuck, Nikki?!" Fred yells at me and I look at Vivian. 

It's as if I'm coming back to myself, the reality of what I just tried to do…

What the fuck, Nikki? You already fucking shot her, and now this? If you don't get your shit together you won't have a fucking wife to patch things up with!

What am I saying? I already don't. She's fucking Duff. 

She's legally married to me, but emotionally she's already been single for months, now.

I didn't strangle her because I was pissed over Duff. I strangled her because in my fucked up paranoia I was convinced she was going to kill me, first. 

The truth was she wasn't. Duff, on the other hand, definitely considered it once he found out. But I don't blame him for it, now.

The next night, I feel my lip curl as I spot greasy, unkept hair, and scabbed, yellow skin. 

Sparkie's smoking a cigarette, his arm around Tansy. 

Its fucking pathetic. 

He's contributing to her demise--if not the reason it kickstarted in the first place--and she still looks at him like he's the only dude on the fucking planet and she can't get enough. 

My mind drifts to what would happen if by freak chance Vivian did decide to try something with him. 

It makes my skin crawl to think of Vivian in the same position as Tansy: doped up, exhausted to the point she can't fight back when she's pimped out by him, worn down…

The mere idea of it makes bile rise to the back of my throat. 

The fact Tansy's gone through it only adds to my nausea. 

I hold it in and step past them, glaring at Sparkie. 

"Stay away from my fucking wife." I threaten him and he flinches a little. 

Pussy. 

I spot Axl shooting a death glare at him from the corner of my eye. 

He looks pissed as a hornet, his sharp jaw clenching and unclenching as Vince and Tommy walk past him to get ready to go on stage. 

I hear Skylar crying from the dressing room with Sharise--they came down a few nights ago. 

I look back to Axl, tension getting tighter and tighter in his body. 

All it takes is Sparkie clapping his hands one good, loud, time, just to see Tansy's jittering, withdrawal-beginning, body nearly jump out of it's own skin. 

This does it. 

Out of fucking nowhere Axl is tackling him like a linebacker, not giving the walking incarnate of an STD time to think before he's beating the shit--literal, shit--out of him, the putrid smell taking up space backstage, making me and the guys gag as Fred, Doc, and Izzy try to get the pissed redhead off the junkie.

I expect Tansy to be screaming or crying like usual when someone gives Sparkie what his punk-ass deserves, but she makes no protest to Axl. 

I immediately look away when Viv comes into the picture, a look of worry on her face as Axl yells: "Bitchy little princess, I'll give you a fucking reason to go fucking shoot up!" 

The smell of Sparkie's shit continues to permeate the area as Doc and Fred get him away from Axl. 

Tansy just stands still, her big, blue eyes blinking at Axl.

I meet Vivian's gaze, noticing the cake of makeup covering her neck, and a pit is dug into my stomach. 

Fuck. 

"Dude, you good?" Tommy asks me, and I nod. 

"Yeah, just grossed out." I mumble, seeing Izzy leaning against the wall, dry heaving from the smell as Viv and Duff coax Axl down the hall to their dressing room.

Me, the guys, Emi and Donna all get into position, and I try to shake off all the shit that's happened, because we need to have a kickass show. 

As soon as mine and Mick's cue hits, and I'm face-to-face with thousands of people who all want a piece of me, I can't control uneasiness of my stomach, and when I take a moment to grab a drink of water, my throat ignites when I down a gulp of vodka, instead. 

What the fuck? 

I figure it's set aside for Mick, and try not to let it happen again. 

Only I do. 

Repeatedly throughout the show.

And that on top of smack, on top of the Jack Tommy and I chug during part of the show, leaves me sloppy as hell and stumbling off stage come curtain call. 

I see two Duff's stomping over to me, looking the most mean I've seen him ever look, Vivian on his heels. 

"Hey, man, wha--" 

I don't have time to finish my question. 

He knocks the shit out of me in the blink of an eye, and I stumble back, not able to react in time before he's shoving through Fred and Doc, giving another punch to my cheek, but I strike back this time, twice, before he just starts waylaying me relentlessly, Vivian screaming, stupid enough to try to get between us before Izzy's yanking her away. 

I feel my skin split under the pressure of one of Duff's rings, my vision spotty before he's thrown back by Fred and Axl. 

"You mother fucker!" He screams at me viciously as Doc comes to my side. "You stay the fuck away from her, you understand me?!" 

"Duff, it was an accident!" Vivian cries out hoarsely. 

"Look at your fucking neck! How is that a fucking accident?!" He's so pissed he's nearly in tears, too, and I feel my heart pound as I see where the makeup has been smeared off of Vivian's neck, revealing dark bruises in the shape of my fingers. 

"He was high!" Vivian insists.

"He was high when he shot you, he was high when he proposed to another woman, he's high everytime he treats you like shit, he was high when he fucking tried to kill you last night…" Duff rambles off, his face bright red. "...Stop excusing his bullshit with 'he was high', he's not high--that's just who the fuck he is, now!" He shouts, her feelings hurt from the looks of her expression. 

"Come on over here and see who the fuck I am, now!" I can't help but to spit out, even though I'm in no position to win a fight. 

"No, no!" Fred scolds as he and Doc are in front of me while Steven and Axl stay with Duff, trying to calm him down. 

First Axl and Sparkie, now me and Duff, all in one night. 

I bet Fred and Doc regret bringing them on tour, too, because I sure as shit do. 

If I felt like arguing anymore I'd ask Duff how my balls taste since that's where Vivian's mouth spent a good amount of time the past six years...if I wanted them to know that I know about them, I'd say it. 

If I knew it would make a difference, I would. 

But I know it won't, so I keep my mouth shut. 

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #mötley crüe #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc

[omegangrins]

Chibnall, Children, Choice and Consequence

Allow me to introduce a companion piece to A Treatise on the Doctor:

It's pretty simple:

Chibnall knows what he's doing and is playing a long game to show how the Doctor needs to take more responsibility.

Let me start off with my favorite examples. That's right, plural.

Every single villain 13 faces is never defeated, merely pushed away from causing them any immediate problems. Tim Shaw being the prime example.

1&10. Seriously, Tim Shaw. Her plan was to use his own bombs on him and then teleport him off the planet. Even without Ranskoor Av Kolos, the Doctor should have thought to check in on him. Especially after The Ghost Monument showed the Stenza were a greater threat than she knew. She still hasn't even checked up on WHAT THE HELL THE STENZA ARE! They sound worse than Daleks but naw, let's go rain-bathing in the upper tropics of Canstano instead.

2. Ghost Monument. We saw the END of an interuniversal race. What the fuck is the beginning that got them there? Who is Illyn and how and why did he orchestrate a super race?

3. Krasko. Sent back in time. Really, Doc? Not gonna take a look at the device and see where Ryan sent the prick so you can double check that he's not gonna cause anymore damage?

4. President Trump analog. Ooooo, you looked at him menacingly, Doc, that'll show him!! Not like he's gonna KEEP DOING ILLEGAL SHIT LIKE THIS.

5. The Pting. She literally shunted it off ship to be dealt with by someone else BUT DOESN'T GO BACK TO BE THAT SOMEONE ELSE ONCE SHE HAS HER TARDIS. That's like leaving a living nuke floating around after sweeping it under the rug while you fly off to Paris.

6. The Pakistani-Indian conflict still happens and millions still die. Not her fault but still....

7. Kerblam. Sure, Charlie's terrorism was solved but not the underlying problem that led to it. Humans still can't work because corporations like profits over people.

8. Similar to the Punjab, how you gonna solve sexism, classism and all the -isms?

9. WHY WAS THE SOLITRACT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??!! It's been around since before the universe. Why'd it decide to come back now? It's a whole universe trying to hug our universe to death. Maaaaaaybe we should check out why.

11. She's gets a pass on the Dalek. Fucking impossible to eradicate them.

12. The Master!!! Finally she checks up on something after the adventures... and it's horrible. With everything gone to shit in her absence. Seeing a pattern yet?

And Barton? And the Cassaven? They didn't disappear into smoke.

13. Multiple Earths being multiply fucked. Remember when I said the Doctor couldn't solve racism, classism, sexism, or any of the other -isms? Starting to look like she needs to TRY.

14. The Skithra FLY OFF after getting hit by a laser beam. That kind of thing tends to piss people off. Even if they're idiots using other's technology.

15. Jack. The Judoon. The Ruth Doctor. All things I'd start checking out if I had a time machine BUT

16. WE CAN'T cause the TARDIS emergency alert is going off and we need to hurry up and run and solve this problem before we run out of time in our TIME AND SPACE MACHINE. Leading to another problem the Doctor could help solve but won't. Plastic and over-consumption.

17. Oh yeah, let's trap two Eternals from another universe in the same place. There's NO WAY that could ever turn out bad.

18,19,20. And again. Cyberium. Pushed off Shelley onto herself and onto Ashad and onto The Master.

That's almost 20 "enemies" the Doctor still needs to deal with.

Oh, not to mention that they let UNIT go defunct because they didn't have the forethought to ask if they needed any money in their alien fighting budget. After asking for an office, a desk, and a job. Kinda funny that way, aren't they?

I hope by now you've gotten the idea that this is VERY deliberate. This is Chibnall laying down some very heavy pipe to smack the Doctor like a clothesline. There isn't a one of these situations that can't come around to bite her in the ass.

Barton, Roberts, Skithra. These are all very loose strands for a time traveller like the Doctor to get tripped up on. Chibnall's past episodes prove it. They're all about the Doctor learning how to take responsibility.

42: The Doctor almost gets Martha killed and almost gets himself killed trying to fix it.

The Hungry Earth: The Doctor (a thousand year old "adult") tells Elliot (a 10 year old kid) that "Sure it's totally fine to go get your headphones while we prepare for an approaching unknown alien force." And 11 rightfully gets his ass chewed for it by the child's mother when the kid goes missing because OF COURSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS, JACKASS!

Cold Blood: I could write an entire essay about the Doctor's guilt over the Silurian/Human conflicts they've witnessed, but I don't need to. Because every single Silurian centered episode written in the new era is from Chris Chibnall. And you can feel the sad knowledge of Classic Who spill through. He KNOWS how many times the Doctor has fucked up with the Silurians (about 8 times in television format. And it's rough everytime. Rough.) and he writes those episodes like an apology on behalf of the whole human race. And the Doctor. You know why people are put off by Warriors of the Deep? 5 releases a gas that melts the Silurians. And though it's cheesy, the idea and execution is still horrible.

Add to that if the Doctor hadn't stopped to check the crack, then Rory wouldn't have waited and been around to be shot then absorbed by the time crack.

Power of Three: An entire episode about how the Doctor has a problem slowing down and really taking account of the lives of their companions.

Dinosaurs on a Spaceship: The Doctor actually tries to be responsible and pick the right people for a job. For once. But gets angry when they realize it's too late and there's another bunch of Silurians they failed to save. Classic!

Like I said, if you can't see the pattern, you're not paying enough attention to your responsibilites.

Which leads me to the why.

When you fly around time and space for thousands of years, you develop a few duties of care along the way. In every situation, you're the oldest. Technically the only adult in terms of experience. You have a responsibility to act a little less rude and be a bit more aware than needing cue cards to tell you that you should be sad about things around you. And that's the purpose of 13. She's unlucky but learning. Like 12 telling himself something with his face he couldn't say out loud, 13's instincts are leading her to a new place for the Doctor: being a caring, responsible person. Not so much laughing hard or running fast, but being kind. It's the one thing they recognized as a problem in themselves when seeing 1. Being a Doctor is about being kinder than that. Just because you HAVE to saw someone's leg off, that doesn't mean you can't wait a little and comfort them before you do it.

You wanna know what gave me every faith in Chibnall showrunning Doctor Who? 13 staying for Grace's funeral.

Do you understand how unprecedented that is? This is the same person who never said Goodbye to Jo Grant as she got married and fucked off into the night. The same Doctor who said, "I don't do domestic.", did it with Rose a regeneration later, and then closed himself off to everyone but a married couple he felt guilty about who ended up birthing his wife. Have you any idea the number of funerals the Doctor should have the common decency to sit through? This many.

So for 13 to stay around for the death of a woman she has only just met and not only that, BUT call out Ryan's father for not doing the same, it shows tremendous character growth. It's taken millennia but they're still changing.

Something similar happens with Rosa and The Witchfinders. Realizing that there a lot of companions who have been in situations that are sometimes worse than aliens, but they still manage to make it through. So she needs to buck it up and persevere for everyone else.

That's where her anger comes from, and really it's one of my favorite traits on her. It reminds me of 7. Someone impossibly old and impossibly kind saying to hell with it and at least having some fun with the evils who drag us through the universe. And just like Cartmel planned for 7, 13's past will come to haunt her.

That's where children come in. Most of us are crying babies to the Doctor.

There's this thing you notice most in British shows about answering the question directly as asked. Someone says "Are you sure?", you answer "Sure". That's a direct acknowledgement that you heard the question, understood it, and processed it enough to respond in a manner directly correlating to the question asked. Yas and Graham got it and said "Sure" but Ryan missed it and said "Deffo". This is like Elliot with the headphones. The Doctor should have immediately been like, "Okay, Ryan, it's obvious that you're still dealing with the trauma of your grandmother's death and probably not processing things on a logical level. I said "Are you sure?" Not "Are you deffo?" Because we are most definitely not deffo, Ryan. Graham, you wanna help here?"

I'm being sarcastic for points sake but you understand the idea. The Doctor knows better and has a responsibility as such. She should've really sat down with Ryan and Graham and seen if there was a better way to process their grief.

Because I'm fairly certain that "Deffo" is gonna lead to Ryan's death and Graham's cancer resurging as time cancer (I don't know what time cancer is. I just know it's bad.)

And that is gonna piss Yas off. Which will give you all that character you think she's missing (she isn't. Her character is in her subtleties and silences.). That's WHY her character is a police officer (like how does no else see that the man who wrote Broadchurch wrote an inspector character companion?) Imagine you're Yaz and you see the Doctor flying around in a big, magic box that says POLICE. As a fellow officer, you're gonna expect some basic safety protocols.

Like do a background check on everyone flying in the TARDIS to know whether they're stable enough (mentally, physically, emotionally) for time and space travel. It's no picnic. These people are going to go through hell. A little vetting and planning like Time Heist or Dinosaurs on a Spaceship goes a long way.

Secondly, full fucking disclosure.

"Oh. I can't die because I change my body. Oh. I have arch enemies that will try to kill and torture us any chance they get. Oh. My home planet is full of the biggest assholes in the universe and I'm including my arch enemies."

Third, police like to do this thing called "check-ups" where they go back to the scene of the crime in order to see if there is any more information that can be gleaned which you might not notice when you are busy running around trying not to be killed... Like, the Doctor has the perfect machine to do this with, but nope. Adventure done, run to the next place!!

These are all things you'd expect any reasonable person to do and say when taking others flying off into time and space and "helping". Even if they are an idiot passing through and learning. Especially when you consider the Doctor is vastly older and more experienced than everyone they encounter. They SHOULD know better. And they've got the lifespan to slow down. It's not like they need to be in a hurry because they're going to die at any moment like humans. The Doctor could easily stay for tea and it would be less than a drop in their lifespan.

Now, as usually is the case when I make these theories, I have a parts 1,2,3,4 and 6. There's allways this 5th piece I miss but I manage to get at the end.

But the 6th piece is the Timeless Child. The Doctor isn't a Time Lord anymore. They're not beholden to those people and ideas anymore. Even moreso, those people basically raped her childhood for their own gain so it's not like you'd really listen to them and their "policy of non-intervention".

I'm sensing a coming Trial of a Time Lord season (even believing these two seasons are the opening statement and preliminary evidence of the trial itself) wherein the Doctor finally gets the turnaround 6 deserved. A Trial of the Time Lords, if you will.

"In all my travels through time and space I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here! The oldest civilization: decadent, degenerate and rotten to the core! Power mad conspirators? Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen — they're still in the nursery compared to us! Ten million years of absolute power: that's what it takes to be really corrupt!"

This is what it's all coming down to. Chibnall's takedown of the Time Lords. And The Master is going to play the most crucial role of all.

They're going to be revealed as an Ux alongside the Doctor and show how the only constants they have in this universe are each other and it's about damn time they work together and tell these high collars to eat Schitt while they explore every star and planet they can find.

Come on, the episode is called The Timeless "Children". If it was just the Doctor it'd be called "The Timeless Child". The Master says as much with the misdirect line, "built on the lie of the Timeless Child." since we see two kids playing in that flashback.

"Since always. Since the Cloister Wars, since the night he stole the moon and the president's wife, since he was a little girl. One of those was a lie, can you guess which one?"

Now we know which one was a lie, we know the Master HAS known the Doctor since they were a little girl. THAT little girl...

But this is all just speculation. It's not like Chris Chibnall could have been thinking about this for the past 40 years and was given a blank slate to do whatever he wanted for five years on his favorite TV show. If y'all want to think he took those reigns and is choosing to make things worse...

Well then you don't know much about responsibility.

I'll let the man himself tell you about it.

"Very early in my career,” says Chibnall, “someone told me that you learn more from a failure than you do from a success. And then I lived out that phrase for a year in Los Angeles. I learned that I would not work that way again or be put in that situation again.” The essential lesson was: “You either have to be in total control of a show or working with people who share your vision and will work with you to achieve it. Also, never work with 13 executive producers.

“Camelot was the classic case of too many cooks. It wasn’t a harmonious set-up and I think that does manifest itself on screen.

“I had a fantastic cast but you have to be free to tell the story you want to tell in the way that you want to tell it. What ended up on screen was not what I wanted and so it is a blemish on my CV.”

Credit to @thirteenthdoc

“You immortals - so entitled, so spoiled. You never clear up after yourselves and you always leave stuff lying around.” - Thirteenth Doctor in Can You Hear Me?

#doctor who #bbc #13th doctor #thirteen x yasmin #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #grace o'brien #graham o'brien #the Doctor #the master #missy #chris chibnall #time lords #gallifrey #tardis #jodie whittaker #mandip gil #tosin cole #bradley walsh #michelle gomez #peter capaldi #sacha dhawan #john simm #david tennant #matt smith #11th doctor #10th doctor #Youtube

[wereallalittlebit]

Been thinking a lot about Louis and promo and success recently and I know there's lots of chats and discourse but here's my thought (with the caveat of really we don't know shit and who knows what's going on behind closed doors)

Lots of people have been comparing Louis to Sam Fender and Lewis Capaldi and how successful they've been in the charts for singles and albums even though they're breakthrough acts, but they're not really a useful point of comparison for many, many reasons. The most important one is - those boys are working themselves into the ground. They are constantly sick from over work and having to cancel gigs because their bodies aren't coping, and yet are still constantly adding in extra gigs on top. Their promo is CONSTANT and although they're clearly having fun, that just isn't sustainable and is somwthing Louis has spoken quite candidly about moving away from. They're also much younger and much greener in tbe industry - this means that a) there's more natural buzz about them but also that b)they won't have as deep a knowledge of music business as someone like Louis does. They'll be saying yes to literally anything, which doesn't necessarily equal good decisions. Louis has experienced a lot of sustained trauma, and quite rightly seems to be prioritising his own wellbeing as well as his family much more. This is a good thing and going at promo the way Sam and Lewis are would not allow for this.

A better point of comparison is Liam Gallagher - someone Louis clearly looks up to and who he has some sort of connection to as proved by the premier invite. Liam has come from being in a big band that he loved being a part of and still has a lot of nostalgia for, and he's also dealt with his own fair amount of shit. He's also a mouthy northern fucker which y'know....big mood. I'm guessing a lot of people in our fandom won't be following Liam Gallagher all that closely, but as a fan, I think he's really interesting in terms of what he's doing. He's had a big focus on his album, and it went straight to number one despite the fact that he's not been doing chart focused singles releases (although he did put out a single on vinyl and it sold like hot cakes). He's doing very selective promo that he's clearly enjoying (his vogue 72 questions is a delight) but not just doing the old "go to every station and do whatever they want to make sure he gets played" thing that we'd see with a more traditional pop artist or with a younger breakthrough indie pop artists (eg Sam and Lewis).

Adding to this, I also had a chat with Jamie Hartman on Twitter a couple of days ago in response to his tweet about "what's the plan b when steaming doesn't work" and he said a)he wasn't throwing shade (which....👀👀👀...sure Jan) and b)that he feels like a well crafted album needs to be the focus for artists now in response to how streaming has impacted the charts.

All of this to say - who the fuck knows, but I'm intrigued and bewildered and constantly changing my thoughts on things and also reminding myself it's all not that deep and Louis has said he's not chasing a number 1 as the only marker of success and the most important thing is that we all have fun along the way and remember this shit isn't our job to worry about

#louis promo #rambling thoughts #please dont come after me #i am fragile #and useless #and invested in all four of theae artists a stupid amount #and all four of the boys a stupid amount #and zayn #who worries me in other ways #ANYWAY these are just thoughts #opinions #not facts #y'know

[fuck-customers]

Physically blocked from entering an establishment? They're totally open and just testing you!

I work at a gas station and we were experiencing some technical difficulties. It was enough of an issue that when I called our technical support number they decided it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately and that the gas station needed to be temporarily shut down. Said it would take like 30 minutes and no one could be pumping gas. So I went and put out cones to block off the entrance.

How did customers respond? Well, if they didn’t drive OVER THE CURB to get into the gas station they drove around the back and came in through the exit (which I eventually also coned off, not that it kept people from driving over the curb), which is clearly the exit and has “do not enter” signs. And as soon as one asshole would do this it generated a bunch of copycats, because when other people saw a car at a pump they figured the GIANT CONES BLOCKING THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT were just decorative. I got so tired of having to go out and shoo people away that I stopped bothering and started watching from my booth as they’d attempt to use a pump (which by this point were all offline and said as much on their displays), get angry that it wasn’t working, and then come stomping up to me to demand to know why.

Then I got to be like “Well, sir/ma'am, the gas station is closed. :) Which is why the entrance and exit are blocked off. :)” One guy thought he was being clever by being like “WELL WHY AREN’T THERE ANY SIGNS?” What do you think this is? Kinko’s? Like yeah dude, let me just go into the nonexistent back room of my SINGLE ROOM BOOTH where we keep the secret computer, printer, and laminator so I can whip up some signs real quick. So that you can have the pleasure of ignoring them and driving over the curb anyway. I don’t even have sheets of paper available to me to hand write something and even if I did, where would I put it? Tape it to a cone to be ripped off the first gust of wind? No. Fuck off, you stupid dickhead.

Like, Jesus fucking Christ. Learn to use some context clues. This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened, either, and I think I’ve submitted a story similar to this before. Any time I have to temporarily close the gas station people do this shit. I had a coworker who had a big enough gas spill during one of her shifts that it required shutting down the gas station and calling the fire department and customers were STILL trying to muscle their way in to pump gas. And no, we’re not the only gas station in town. You can’t throw a rock down the road without it hitting another gas station and skipping and hitting 3 more. There’s no excuse for customers to be this pigheaded.

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #submission

[jupiter-inthe-archer]

life has been weird after realizing important shit about myself. i've realized that people are often stuck in some sort of void they're not necessarily happy about, and yes, age is nothing but a number and the concept of time and being too young or old is merely just a concept but at the same time. we are young. it's just it's important to know you're in it and figuring out ways to get out of it. i've realized monogamy doesn't work out in our society but everyone wants it because they want something they can call they're own, something they can, in a circumstance, control or make someone held responsible for their actions. if you cheat, you're scum and everyone knows it therefore it's like your duty not to mess with other people. and that's something i figured out about my dear ol self. i think that's bullshit, wanting to control people is weird and selfish and that's ultimately what humans are. weird, selfish creatures. hence why i don't do relationships or the whole polygamy or monogamy or polyandry or whatever. i don't want anyone to own me or to have some status about me bc i own me, i have this ultimate status about me. people know me as sydney not as so or so girlfriend or someone's girl. my name is sydney and belong to no one but myself. and it's a beautiful feelings to own yourself. and i figured out that part of my life with relationships because i see so many people in monogamous relationships and cheat on their significant other and i'm just like, why don't you just break up with them? why don't you just co exist with that person and let people do them? because people get jealous, once they lose that control they get jealous because people can't grasp the fact that sex is just sex and people are just people and sex and people are just merely things to reproduce. is that a harsh, dull way of looking at sex, i assume so yes, but it's something i've learned. it takes a lot for me to get jealous and it takes a lot for me to react towards said jealousy hence why it's easy for me to ultimately, i guess, "share" people. i knew the ginger dude made out with some girl at the party and i ultimately, didn't care. because, he is not mine, i don't own him nor do i held him responsible for his actions on how they react towards me. that's ultimately up to me and it's made my life so much better men wise. because i realized, technically, i could have so many hoes. if a bitch wasn't so picky & i could have so much dick options but like i said, a bitch is picky. going back to discovering myself, i've realized i'm weird ass individual, i always has been growing up. i'm interested in weird things, like weird music and shows and react to stuff weirdly. and that's just who i am. i blame the shit ton of aquarius in me. and yet, i'm not weird yet weird when expressing my emotions. even though i ranted to the ginger dude and realized it's ok to sometimes open up and be vulnerable especially towards men, it's going to take me lots of times and probably lots of men to do that. because drunk me was, yet again, super guarded. i didn't want him to know i reconnected to jim morrison because for some odd ass reason, i thought that was way too personal for him to know. i guess i like to surprise people, and also contradict myself because i am a walking contradiction after all. regardless of everything i've discovered about sag ol me, i've realized that i'm actually a decent human being, i care about people but can be completely numb to other people's pain. i've realized i'm more gemini than people lead on, i can totally be this nice, caring, thoughtful person that is constantly there for you and listens and tries to help. but that gets draining and i've dealt with people like that my entire life. and tbh, i'm ready to deal with people that are selfish in a sense, that are numb to people's pain until it actually does start affecting them. my other gemini twin, is in a sense, evil. the amount of dirty, fucked up shit i could do to people to use as a gain isn't the best, & i sometimes thank my sag morals for blocking them