#look I was listening to cocaine jesus

[throneofsapphics]

Hello hello, hope you’re good!! I was wondering if you could write about batboys x reader where they’ve been together for years and years, and then the sisters turn up and it turns out that each of the sisters are mates for each of the batboys. Reader is understandable upset but the batboys are dense and don’t quite understand. It’s just very very angsty for our reader but ends happy :)) Thanks!!

brush away the dust 

Batboys x f!Reader

Summary: Tears slid down her cheeks as the memories replayed, good and bad. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the images out - they stuck.

Warnings: angst 

A/N: happy is up to interpretation, right? It deviated a bit but it’s along the same lines!

She braced her arms on her kitchen table, willing the memories to leave. Centuries, and she lived on her own now. Gods, she’d spent half a century under the mountain with Rhys, in pain every day hiding their relationship, blending into the shadows. Amarantha’s leash on him was tight, so tight they barely risked seeing each other, let alone speaking. Fifty years without Azriel or Cassian and this is what she returned to.

Of course, Rhys kept the offer of a spot in the Townhouse open for her. 

A spot. Like it hadn’t been her home for the last three centuries. 

“You … can stay if you need to.” He said, not looking up from the papers. Bags lined his eyes, clouded with something she couldn’t recognize. He was a shell of himself, but then again so was she. Feyre had arrived yesterday - and now she was all but kicked out of her home. 

“I’ll leave.” She said quietly, waiting for a second. He gave her a nod, not bothering to look up, and she left, forcing herself to keep her pace even and calm. Maybe Amarantha had taken away part of the male you loved. 

Three hundred years, thrown out the window by the Mother. A cruel mistress. 

“Why has Rhys been pulling away from her?” She overheard Cassian asking Azriel. She learned how to be silent in the last fifty years, learned how to blend into the background - disappear. Not even his shadows spotted her. 

“He has a mate.” 

Where Rhys goes, they follow. 

“It would be different without him.” Cassian said, trying to sound gentle. Azriel’s features had softened - in pity. They were looking at her with fucking pity. Still, she kept her cool. No, she wouldn’t let them see her anger or hurt. If they could brush it off this easily, she could at least pretend to. 

“I understand.” A neutral mask slid over her features. Cassian blinked once. Had he expected a different reaction? Her, before Amarnatha, showed her heart on her sleeves. Her emotions could always be read, free for the whole world to see. But, she’d learned better - and now somehow it paid off. 

Tears slid down her cheeks as the memories replayed, good and bad. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the images out - they stuck.

Lover.  

They traipsed in from the sauna, bruised and smiling from the snowball fight. Cassian swept her into her arms and she squealed as he spun her in a circle. 

Azriel caught the gift Cassian tossed from under the tree with a sigh, passing it towards her. He left his hand on her thigh, watching intently as she opened it. 

Silver from starfall lining his face, his violet eyes danced as he spun he her in circles, over and over again. 

Friend. 

“I want you to meet her.” Rhys asked, “come with Mor.” She’d pursed her lips but gave a nod. A favor, she could do him a favor. Even if she recognized he was asking as her High Lord - not her lover. Pretending couldn’t hurt. 

“Who is she?” Feyre asked Rhys as they left the room. 

“A friend.” Mor glanced at her in alarm as her expression fell. Rhys had already strolled away - out of earshot, but she was good at keeping her sobs silent. Still, Mor tugged her up out of her chair - winnowing her out of the moonstone palace.

Stranger. 

She nearly froze as she spotted them in Rita’s. Mor locked eyes with her and made her way across the floor. “Do you need me to distract them?” she murmured. Looking over her shoulder, Azriel had spotted her, and looked away. Cassian and Rhys didn’t bother glancing in her direction. 

Mor saved her in those first weeks. She came over, tugged her out of bed and made her eat, take a shower, leaving her new apartment, bought with the money she saved over the years. Her money. She’d never be that dependent on anyone again. Absolutely never. 

Mates. Gods she hoped she never found one. She never wanted to be the person who could discard someone, throw them aside after centuries - like nothing ever happened. A promise, she made a promise to herself - she would never say a word against them.  

Of course, she came when Madja asked for her help. Cassian was unconscious as she helped heal him, sealing the giant wound cutting him nearly in half, hiding her tears behind a professional mask. Maybe the glamor had worked too well. Not even Mor recognized her. Amren’s eyes had flared, but she gave her a pleading glance and received a curt nod in return. 

She lasted all of two years in Velaris. Rhys had a child, Cassian found his mate, Azriel became infatuated with someone - she refused to learn who. Refused to remember their names. Maybe what hurt the most was they never reached out, never sent a letter or asked how she was. Expendable. 

She moved to the Winter Court after things had settled. Viviane welcomed her, made her feel at home. Never asked prying questions - found her a job as a healer, helped her get a new home. A small cabin, surrounded by snow - three cats who found her and refused to leave. Over the decades, they became memories. Memories that didn’t haunt her any more. Instead she learned to take the good portions of them - to focus on how much she learned from that. Peace, she’d found peace and a home. Somewhere she was just herself, not their partner, but built a home and community. A community of people who liked her for who she was. 

Still, she kept the one portrait of them, and wondered if they’d burnt their copies. Her hand brushed the dust away, and she found herself smiling fondly at them. Their faces, captured in time. Her eyes found the clock. One minute had passed, and she put it back in the drawer. Forgotten for another year or two. 

#batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar drabble #acotar imagine #look I was listening to cocaine jesus #mor is a good friend

[ampersandnotdash]

Poor Mabel.

#i seriously can't stop laughing over that art #my little sunshine girl listening to cocaine jesus #if i ever need a pick me up i can look back at that post and dissolve into maniacal laughter

[ellabsweet]

[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which you’re fooled.

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: mentions of cheating and drug usage but i believe that is all ! let me know in case there’s anything i just wanted to put this out already because of the traction this is getting which is making me sososo happy thank you everyone i love you <3

authors note: ——

← previous part | next part →

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐑.𝐈.𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇

approximately two years earlier…

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Ellie asks after snorting a line of powder from the small bathroom’s sink, a banging to the door from an urgent adult being dismissed by her and the dealer.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that”

“Oh c’mon you know the one. Sad eyes girl who watched the whole show from her seat at the bar like we were a band worth shit, like we’re going to be someday”

“They call her bunny around here. ‘Cause you know, a cute shell for a sex addict, y’know some misogynistic shit. She’s a regular to all The Deadbeats show on this shitty bar, you only want to fuck her now? Get on some fan service?”

“You’re fucking gross, man. I just digged her vibe, is all”

What Ellie meant by that was, she saw her soul reflected in your eyes and it scared her shitless but not enough to go untouched by the exchange, drowning in curiosity and magnetism the drugs made sure to intensify your face in her mind as though a printed sticker inside her brain. What Ellie meant was, she thought God was a girl with sad eyes and skimpy top watching her band in the corner of a loud bar piercing right through her like a Heaven and Hell collision midst a guitar riff.

Daniel took one last sniff of cocaine before he slammed the door open, the yell in his throat setting off a headache in Ellie: “Bunny! Come meet your rockstar!”

“I like your songs-“

“We’re gonna get married” You errupt in laughter with that, the sad eyes Ellie had attatched to the memory of you suddenly disappearing in bright amusement, she felt as though she could use your happiness as a new kind of high “I’m not joking, I would carry you in my arms straight into a chapel right now”

“Does that line usually work with the girls you go for?”

“I don’t know, you’re the first I tried it on. Is it endearing enough to convince you to elope?”

“You know every single person in this goddamn bar wants to get in your pants after that guitar riff, right?”

“I’m gonna be fully honest with you right now. I’m fucked out of my goddamn mind today, if I stare at you too long from the mix I took you’re gonna start having two heads and still I might dig it. But God, even then you look so fucking sad”

“Jesus” you scoff “alright junkie well I’m gonna go now-“

“You look so fucking sad and I see you. It’s like I’m seeing an angel cry, like I’m watching God in a party outfit wandering around and listening to my band, like a little bunny eyed daydream fucking painting on a museum wall that makes critics bawl into tears listen, shit, what I’m saying is you’re a fucking tsunami and I feel like I’m flooding and we haven’t even kissed and you don’t even seem to like me all that much right now but when I was up there?” Ellie pointed at the stage “You felt it too. My lyrics. You felt my stuff I know you did, like some soulmate shit like you feel my pain too like we’re both just trying too damn hard. I’m not insane yet, you’re something let me be something to you, I think I can be”

You didn’t answer her. You just kissed. Crashed your lips into her like you were coming up for air because something in your booze made something about her nonsense make sense. You thought you saw her in a dream when she first went up on stage, thought her to be one of those blurry faces in good nights of sleep that passed right through you, familiar in a mystical sense, in the stupidest way. Her lips on yours tasted of pure alcohol and it made you dizzy, weak in the knees. She knew her way around your body, waist and neck like a map engraved itself to the palm of her hands and you melted straight to them.

For two months you believed she was right that day, onto something. Talked about grief and music and love and death and space and leace and thought you knew her forever. Then The Deadbeats got more traction, moved to the spotlight. Then you caught her fucking a fan in the studio.

“All of Ellie’s girls think they’re special”

“Listen Abigail I don’t want to fucking hear it so you can fuck right off” You grabbed your bag, tears prickling in your eyes as you did so before the blonde grabbed hold of your shoulder, instinctively having you look back at her, perhaps the first time you truly looked at her all this time.

“But you really are.”

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin @machetegirl109 @scatapple @elliesgirlll @madelynie @emothurman @p1llowthoughtss @scottstre3ted @thatonementallyillsimp @rockyroad-is-bomb @spaceshipellie @toesorhoes @callmewhenyoukan comment to be added!

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #ellabs x reader #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams fanfic #abby anderson fanfic

[gaysindistress]

Dial Drunk - part 2 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst and the feels oh and Peggy Carter slander

Word count: 2.1k words

Master list

Fine line 1 & Cocaine Jesus 3

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

a/n: I love a good song fic. Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan sponsors this fic so I highly suggest you listen to it.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Son, is there someone I can call for you?” the Sheriff asks while half dragging and carrying a drunk Steve into the station. Under the dead weight of the mafia boss, the elderly Sheriff struggles to get them inside as the rain pelts them so hard, he’s expecting there to be bruises on both of them.

Steve mumbles something as his head lolls to the side but the other man cannot make out a single word or number for that matter. At the door, he waves to his deputies to him with the door and he all but drops Steve onto his younger deputies.

“Son, I don’t know your name. Where is your wallet or your phone?”

Steve shoves his hand into his coat pocket which sends all of them into high alert but it’s all false as he dumps the asked for items onto a desk. The Sheriff gets to work to figure out his name and find an emergency contact or anything at all that might be helpful.

“Alright, Mr. Rogers,” he announces as he types away at a computer, no doubt pulling up Steve’s criminal record as well as his contacts, “Should I call a Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers? Is that still current?”

Steve scoffs at the name as he falls into a seat next to the Sheriff, “My own wife hates me.”

A deputy gives the Sheriff a look but he ignores it and calls the number nonetheless. Steve slumps back into the hard chair and drops his head back in attempts of sleeping off the horrendous hangover he’s going to have. The phone rings and rings, leaving him with just the dial tone as Peggy ignores the call. They try again but nothing happens. She ignores the call. They try a third time and finally she answers.

“Hello?” her accented voice wakes Steve.

“Hi is this Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers?”

She snorts, “Not anymore. If this is about Steve, call someone else. I don’t care”

The dial tone replaces her voice and all of the officers look at each other in disbelief.

“Did… Did she just hang up?” the same deputy asks.

The sheriff clears his throat and brushes over his thick gray mustache as he thinks about what to do next.

“I told you she hates me,” Steve pipes up, “Wasted your time.”

“Is there anyone else we can call?”

He shrugs, “She won’t answer either.”

Behind them two deputies are whispering to each other about how wrong it was of Peggy to hang up but quickly stop when the Sheriff gives them a pointed look.

“Maybe SHE will answer. What’s her name and number?” He extends the phone out to Steve who drops it and has to slowly reach down to pick it up. It takes him longer than usual to open it and find the number of the woman whose house he practically ran from. After he left Y/N’s house, he found the nearest bar and drank the place out of anything that would numb the rejection pain. For ten years, he dreamed of nothing but seeing his girl again and when he finally did, his past decisions ruined any chance of a relationship with her again. For ten years, he resented Peggy, his father, his mother even and himself for not fighting harder for Y/N. For ten years, he regretted everything he had done and prayed that somehow he could go back in time to just be with her.

“Y/N hates me too.”

Still the sheriff dials the number and hopes that this mystery woman will answer the phone. It rings five times and they’re all beginning to think that this will be a repeat of the first call but she does answer.

Her voice is raw from crying but she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi ma'am, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well ma’am, this is the Kings County sheriff department. I’m Sheriff Anderson. I have Steve Rogers here and he’s going to be held overnight in the drunk tank or you can come pick him up.”

“Shit, okay. Um…” there’s a long pause but they can hear her shuffling around, “I can be there in 45 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yes of course ma’am. We appreciate you answering the phone so late and coming right away.”

“Uh… yeah no problem I guess,” she mumbles something else but Steve doesn’t catch it.

Anderson motions to his deputies and has them take Steve to a cell while he waits. He’s half asleep and even heavier than before as they haul him into his own cell. Next to him is another lonely drunk stranger who was ignored and left to figure their shit out alone. Regardless he can’t be bothered to care and he shucks off his overcoat to use it as a pillow. Crossing his arms over his chest and his legs over each other, he settles into a short nap while he waits for Y/N. A part of him isn’t even sure that she is actually coming and he’s starting to convince himself that she never answered the door in the first place. She’s not coming to take him home…there's no home where they live together. There is no place where they love and support each other because he destroyed that when he married Peggy. Tears begin to grow heavy on his eyes but he won’t allow himself to cry over the past no matter how recent it might be.

He pulls his arms tighter across himself and rolls over so that his back faces outwards. With his face hidden, the tears start to fall against his will and he does nothing to stop them even though just moments ago he vowed that the past wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t try to wipe them and lets the pain metastasize in his body, growing a tumor of emotions that can’t be cured by anything.

Time slips away from him as the memories and hurt wash over him. Anderson clears his throat to get Steve’s attention and starts to unlock the cell’s door.

“We took his keys so you can drive it home if you didn’t bring your own car,” Anderson says to Y/N.

She smiles and nods, taking the keys from him and clutching them as she stares at the sad excuse of a man laying on the bed. Steve wipes at his eyes and groans as he slides off of the hard jail bed. Shaking out his pillow coat, he puts it on before making eye contact with her. She sighes at him and thanks Anderson for all that he’s done even though it’s not procedure. When Steve stands, he sways and she’s quick to catch him, waving off Anderson who offers to take him. They don’t say anything to each other as she acts as his crutch and walk towards his car. She fumbles with the keys and drops them.

“Lean on the car,” she tells him as she bends down to pick them up, “Do you need my help getting in?”

He furrows his brow like a toddler, “No I can do it myself.”

Shaking her head at him, she unlocks the car and lets him struggle to fold his large body into the passenger side. She slides into the driver’s side and takes a deep breath. Never again did she think that she would dealing with Steve let alone driving his car as he’s almost black out drunk in the passagner seat.

He mumbles something along the lines of “It’s a remote start.”

Y/N hums her understanding and finds the button. It blinks to life and heavy metal music greets them at an unbearable volume. He whimpers at the noise and slams his hand onto the power button to turn it off as quick as he can. Satisfied that the offending noise has stopped, he curls into himself against the window and rests his head on the cool glass.

“Did you put your seat belt on?”

He answers by puling the belt over himself and clicking it into place.

She backs out of the spot and leaves the Sheriff’s station behind. Silence fills the space around them as the street lights and porch lights pass through the window. The lights splash across her face and unbeknownst to her, Steve is stealing glances at her through the window’s reflection. What little he can see of her breaks his heart even more as he can see the fatigue and hurt tense in her features. Her hair, usually styled and pristine, has been hastily clipped up with a claw clip that’s holding on for dear life. Under the long winter coat she’s wearing is just a pair of pj pants and a white crop top. She’s not even really wearing shoes but instead a pair of worn down clogs that should only be worn inside. Seeing how vulnerable she is, he can’t help himself grow protective and upset that she left in such a hurry.

“I hope you drove,” slips out albeit slurred.

“What?” she asks, quickly looking over at him.

“I said I hope you drove.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Do you see what you’re wearing?”

She blinks and scoffs at him, “I just picked your drunk ass up at 2 am and you want to lecture me about my clothing choices.”

“That’s not what I….”

She cuts him off, “Stop. You’re sleeping on the couch and I expect you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Honey.”

“Don’t. I already made myself clear earlier; I want nothing to do with you. I should’ve left you at the stupid station,” she mumbles the last part to herself but he still hears it and sews his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride back to her house is quiet aside from the normal noise of the car and the city.

She wants to regret hurting him with her words but she can’t find it in herself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the petty side of her that strives to inflict as much pain as she can onto him. He did deserve it after all and he’s not protesting at least out loud.

Internally he wants to confess his undying love for her but he knows she won’t care and it won’t change her mind. He does deserve all of her hate and anger. It’s all just no matter how harsh it might be.

Steve keeps stealing glances of her in his window’s reflection and accepts the heartache it induces. Her house comes into view and he can feel her relax when it does. She pauses before fully pulling it and has the garage door open to hide his car from sight in it.

Once inside, she turns it off and waits for the door to shut completely before getting out. Steve watches as she kicks her shoes off and takes off her coat, leaving her in her thin pjs. He climbs out and does the same as her. Following her inside, she instructs him to sit at the island like before while she goes to get him blankets and pillows.

His eyes find the Polaroid again and the memories replay again. The sound of Y/N dropping a stack of bedding brings him around again.

“Here’s a couple blankets and a pillow. Don’t worry about folding them, I'll have to wash them.”

She turns to leave but he calls out softly and stops her, “thank you.”

Her hand rests on the wall beside her and she drops her head to rest on it.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I want you back. I want YOU.”

She faces him again, “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to make a reappearance and magically everything goes back to how it was.”

Steve pushes off and is before her in a few short strides. He gently holds her face in his warm hands and refuses to let go even though she tugs lightly at his wrists.

“Give me another chance. Please honey, just one more chance,” he begs her as he touches his forehead to hers. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed and her breathing grows shallow, hot breath brushing against his face.

He nudges her head back and ghosts his lips over hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she doesn’t, he captures her lips in a slow and intimate kiss. Everything he’s felt over the last 10 years is flooding her as he moves his lips over hers. Every promise he’s made to himself in her name is conveyed as he sighed against her lips.

She’s the first to pull away and is shaking her head when she does so.

“No.”

#mob au #mafia! steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers x reader #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fine line steve rogers #steve x reader #Steve rogers #marvel imagine #mafia au

[peterhollandkait]

Coming soon: Everything I Know Leads Me Back to You

A Frankie Morales x reader fic

Summary: Four months ago, your childhood best friend and first love Frankie Morales showed up on your doorstep strung out on cocaine, mumbling words you hadn’t heard him say since high school. You fight your feelings as long as you can, trying to keep him at a distance. But what happens when you give in and it eventually falls apart?

Sneak preview below the cut:

“I uh,” Frankie started, rubbing a hand up and down on his jeans, the other holding tightly to the beer bottle. “I got busted. It’s not a big deal…actually, it’s a big deal.”

Pope looked over at his friend, taking in his nervousness. “Coke?” Frankie barely glanced at him before he continued. “Jesus, Frankie.” Pope sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “What happened?”

Frankie let out a deep breath before relaying the last two years to his friend. How he thought he was doing alright, until he wasn’t. How you took him in and cared for him when he was at his worst.

“And you still don’t think she’s in love with you, hermano? Mierda Frankie, eres un idiota.” Santiago shook his head, grinning at his counterpart.

“Why would she take me back after all these years? All I’ve ever done is hurt her.” Frankie removed his hat, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t deserve her, I never have.”

“Well, maybe not, but she has never stopped loving you, man. If I was a stranger, I’d think the two of you were married already. She wouldn’t have taken you in if she didn’t care.”

Frankie sighed, rolling the hat in his hands. The thing had been through hell and back over the years, with a small tear in the fabric at the back and sweat stains on the inside. But it was his favorite hat, one you had given him in high school after the neighbor’s dog had chewed his Astros cap to hell.

“Listen,” Santiago started, breaking Frankie’s disassociation. “I’ll shut up about the whole thing, I will. But do me a favor and ask her out. I promise you, she’ll say yes.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fic #Pedro pascal #soft! Frankie #Frankie morales smut

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only please! Language, sexual content, religious themes

Pedro Pascal

My Masterlist

It’s rare to find moments like this — where the world was far away.

He feels alive in these moments.

“Javi.” It’s the soft breathy way you say his name, how your fingers touch his chest, nails scratching over his nipples. If this is as close to heaven as he gets, he’ll fucking take it. 

Long days of running lead after lead, tearing him apart, leaving him feeling hollow for each person who died. He chased Pablo around on a stick. Getting close enough to taste it but never earning the praise. The days were bleeding into nights, and time became a burden. 

Except in moments like this.

Here, the DEA didn’t exist, Pablo didn’t exist, Carillo’s death and Murphy falling apart didn’t exist. 

He held your thighs down, kept you in place, listening to the rise and fall of your moans matching the snap of your hips. He can get lost here, live here, and not think of anything else in the world. 

Having you over him, on him, his senses being filled with you as you ride his tongue — the saints of Jesus can descend and Javi wouldn’t look at them twice. He’d drag you back over him, dig his nails in deeper, and taste his own salvation. 

His redemption lies between your legs for Javi. All the bad he does, all the ugly he sees, it all fades away the moment you say his name.

He wonders at times if this is what cocaine felt in the veins of an addict?

Javi can’t get enough of you, the way you smell, taste, the feel of your hands in his hair. It keeps him awake at night — drags him through the day and back into your bed — and he’d do whatever it takes to keep it. To have this sense of sanctuary.

Once, months ago, murphy leaned against the desk and asked him what kept him going — what made all of this still worth it? 

Javi didn’t answer him then, didn’t point out that Escobar’s death keeps him fucking going because he knew Murphy would see right past him. He knew what made all this shit worth it.

At the end of the fucking line, when the son of a bitch is dead and they all get to stop — he’ll have you. Permanently. He could allow himself to be lost inside you. No expectations, to have you holding him at night, kissing him good morning. He would have all of it. 

Would he say the same thing this time? Or would he stop pussyfooting around the fear of it and say, “There's a light at the end of this tunnel for me, Murphy,” and see the smile that lights up your face? 

Your thighs tighten, one hand leaving his hair to smack the wall as you trembled. Groaning as you fucked yourself over his mouth, taking any thought he had floating around, scattering in the wind. Your chest heaved with each gasp of air. Javi wanted to feel you, touch you, hold on tight as you wrap around him. 

Feeling the tremble of your legs as you crawled back down over his shoulders, his teeth nipping goodbye. He helps settle you on his stomach, holding you, touching the slick of sweat on your hips, up your ribs, and over the peak of your nipple. 

“Come here.” He guides you up, over him, “Are you ready?” 

Your legs were trembling when you sank onto his fingers, falling forward with a sobbing moan. Fuck, fuck, you soaked his hand, gripping his wrist with your own to keep him in place and he needs it. Wants it. Wants to feel you come all over again. 

You stop him though, pull his fingers out and bring them up to your lips.

“Javi,” You hover over him, “Fuck me.” You sank down.

These fucking moments remind him he’s alive, he’s real, this is real. Watching you move, the slow roll of your hips glued him to the spot. 

“I missed you.” You murmured, hands sliding up his chest, to his shoulder, pushing against them to help you move above him. He was at your mercy, letting you use him the way he wanted to be used. 

It took far too long to allow himself to have this. To give in to this. The way you hold him down, knowing that he’d let you. 

Here he could be Javi, he could be yours. 

He grew up catholic. Watched those around him throw their hands to a God who gave them nothing but pain and suffering. He saw people give up pieces of who they are to a God that allows them to be sick or dying. Javi watched all the churches offer prayers and thoughts but no actual solution.

The people wrote faith on every wall in every house that becomes wreckage in the war of a small, small man. People have died for God. For their religion. 

Not once did Javi understand why until he had your mouth around his cock and your hand holding his. 

The next snap of your hips jerked both of you across the mattress. Your hand squeezed his shoulders as you groaned and Javi lifted, wrapping both his arms around your waist and holding you tight against him. 

It felt surreal now. He felt electric by the way your bodies moved together, your hips coming down to match his going up. Javi’s skin ached where you touched, where your mouth fell to his skin, and your scraped light across his side, shoulders, and back. His hand held you up, your tongue sliding with his as he lifts again, dropping you on your back and covering your body. 

“Baby.” You gasped, “Javi.”

He felt you around him, squeezing him, your heels digging into his ass as your hands grabbed hold, rolling his hips the way you needed. 

God, fuck. Each push, each groan of his name sparked inside him, under his skin, twisted your thoughts altogether, “Good boy, Baby, please.” The praise shot to his core, dropping him to his elbows. Your teeth clashed together when you kissed him, your heels digging deeper, hands sliding to rest at the small of his back. 

He kept moving the way you showed him. He stated where you needed him, right where you needed him. 

“Yes,” Your body tightened around him and that warm feeling flooded his groin, “Javi, Ja-a-vi.” 

“Si, Come for me, sweetheart, let me feel it.” You gritted your teeth, moved lower, hands moving back to his ass and taking hold, groping him, pushing him, your chin tipped up with a drawn-out moan. 

Yes. 

These moment’s right here. 

Your eyes closed, chest pressing closer to his, the way your whole body goes still before a sharp gasp has you pulsing around him. 

“Fuck,” He mashes your mouths together again, rutting harder, deeper, pressing you into the mattress as your teeth grab at his lips and his body burns, “Yes, fuck.” 

Moments like this, your lips over his collar, legs hanging loose around his hips as he jerks through his orgasm, are what religion was.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #narcos

[elegantmusicdragon]

Nameless

Part 7 of Love, Animals, and The Stolen Goat

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x AnimalHandler!Reader (f!Reader; nicknamed Panda)

Rating/Warning: M! Language - a few f*bombs. REALLY crude references to sex - the word blowjob is used once. Making fun of celebrity names. 

-------------------------------------------------------

You still didn’t know Dieter’s real name. 

Like, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really THAT important. But it was the principle of the thing! The two of you had had sex at least sixteen times at this point - listen, rocky road ice cream has magical properties and it may have lead to the best four rounds of sex you had ever had back to back. Dieter was a freak in the sheets and you were grateful for it. 

You just wish you could be grateful for his REAL NAME. 

And you had tried to pry it out of him - like you pulled out all the stops. The funniest jokes you ever heard - 

“PANDA JESUS CHRIST DON’T MAKE ME PEE MY PANTS!” 

Buster snuggles - 

“Aw, who’s a good boy? Who wants chin scritches? Is it you? Is it you??” 

Margie knee mashing - 

“Margie for the love of all that is holy stop. That hurts!” 

Lingerie - 

“Good god, Panda. Are you looking to give me a heart attack? Get on the bed before I kick it in the best way possible.” 

And the absolute best blowjob you had ever given in your entire life - 

“Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no.” 

You still didn’t know why he started saying that right as he came, but you decided that some things were better left a mystery. 

And now you were curled up on your couch with Dieter’s head in your lap, Buster’s head in his lap, Margie snoozing in her portable bed, and Simon (the menace) sitting on the cushion behind you and attempting to whack your hair. 

“Simon, I swear to god if you don’t knock it off I will sell all of your mice toys and force you to eat wet food when we all know you hate it.”

Simon meows in retaliation, but stops. He knows the stakes here.

Dieter glances at Simon.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll just have to get you some more dangles to play with so you stay away from your mom’s hair.”

He looks up at you and winks. 

Aaaaaaaaand your tummy is full of butterflies - dammit. 

NO. NO. NO PANDA. FOCUS. NAME. 

You clear your throat and begin to gently rub Dieter’s arm, tracing over his triangle tattoo. 

“When’d you get this?”

Dieter snorts. 

“Hell if I know, Panda. Cocaine fucks you up.”

“Oh.” You nod, a frown framing your face. Defeat. Damn. 

Dieter sees the dejected look on your face and grimaces. He clears his own throat and attempts to not make himself look even more like an asshole than he thinks he has. 

“Uhhhh. So despite my constant use of cocaine, I’m pretty sure I got this in Morocco. We were filming Desert Evening and a bunch of us decided to get tattoos because why the fuck not, y’know? Anyway, this guy Mo and I decided it would be cool to get triangle tattoos since it’s the most underrated instrument. Again, want to reiterate I was COMPLETELY high on cocaine when I made this decision but…it’s grown on me.” 

You smile. 

“That’s a fun story, Deet.” 

“I mean, I look like a moron in it but I’m glad my cocaine stories amuse you.” 

You laugh, and he starts laughing too once he sees your mood hit an upswing. 

“Why you so interested in the tattoo?” 

You gulp. Fuck. You didn’t expect him to go straight for the jugular, immediately. FUCK. 

“Well….you mentioned when we first started to hang out about your name…and-”

The deepest look of fear flashes over Dieter’s face instantaneously. RETREAT. RETREAT. 

“Butifyoudon’twannatellmeit’sfinejustforgetIsaidanythingwowlookathetimeit’s-”

He sits up so fast, Buster gets knocked off his tummy. Dieter puts his hand over your mouth. You see Buster in the corner of your eye on his back, staring at Dieter with fiery betrayal in his eyes. He whines, rights himself, and trots to Margie’s bed where he gets in and snuggles with her. Where is your camera when you need it? 

Dieter sighs. 

“I know the hand over the mouth thing is super shitty, but what I’m about to tell you will shake you to your very core and I’m not exaggerating when I say that, Panda.”

You nod, his hand still over your mouth.

“Mppph, mpph, mph.”

He smiles at you. 

“Okay. Thank you for understanding.” 

Dieter takes his hand off of your mouth. You stare at each other. Nothing like awkward silence to fill the void. Dieter clears his throat.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

You nod as solemnly as you can. 

“I promise.”

He sighs. 

“Benicio Barros Ribeiro.”

You blink. Wait, what???

“Benicio?? Like Del Toro?”

“YES like Del Toro, why do you think my stage name is Dieter??” 

“I HAVE NO IDEA! WHY IS IT DIETER?”

“I LIKE MARLENE DIETRICH! SHE IS A VERY FINE ACTRESS AND I ENJOY HER WORK!”

“OKAY THAT’S A VALID REASON!”

“OKAY THEN CAN WE STOP YELLING??!”

“OKAY!!”

You look around in your post yelling haze. Buster and Margie glare at the two of you with bleary eyes. How dare you wake them up from their cute snuggly slumber? Simon has fucked off to who knows where; you’re pretty sure he’s in what he thinks is his super secret hiding spot - directly under your bed. Dieter’s face is beet red in what you’ve deemed to either be embarrassment or irritation. Deciding enough is enough, you shove him back down onto your lap and start running your fingers through his hair aggressively. If you can’t pet Margie to calm your nerves, you WILL pet your boyfriend, dammit!

It’s uncomfortably quiet for the next six and a half minutes before -

“Hey,” Dieter starts and clears his throat, “Sorry for shouting. Didn’t mean to scare you or the babies…my name is hard to talk about.”

You nod smally.  

“I just don’t understand why you’re embarrassed about the name Benicio…”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Oh it’s not the Benicio part that I find embarrassing.”

NOW you’re even more intrigued. You gently tug on the strands of hair you have gripped in your hand, eliciting a small moan from Dieter - you grin smugly. Now’s your chance!! Go for the finishing question!

“Which part is?”

Deet is so lost in your meticulously orchestrated hair playing, that his next words just slip out. 

“My middle name is Engelbert.” 

You stop, shocked. Dieter moans in frustration, oblivious to what he’s just revealed to you. 

“Engelbert?”

The spell is broken. Deet’s eyes widen in abject horror before they meet yours. 

“You mean, like, the singer?”

He covers his eyes before shouting - 

“MY MOM LOVES ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK!! AT LEAST IT’S NOT FUCKING ELVIS!” 

Well, he has a point - you have to give him that. And you add, just to hopefully make him feel better about his ridiculously hilarious middle name - 

“It could be worse - it could be Meatloaf.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Part 7.5/Interlude: Bravo, Bravo, Bravo

A/N: This was a word vomit chapter written in two days and good golly gosh am I proud of this one. A lot of different sections literally made me laugh out loud! Only about 3 more parts to this story! I’m sad to say goodbye to Panda and Dieter but I have the perfect ending for them in mind! Thank you all so, so much for your continued interest in this story! It’s so fun to write - I really enjoy getting to flex my comedic muscles in this type of writing!

P.S.: My Aemond Targaryen fic only has one more part coming so if you’re interested in arranged marriages and falling in love despite that, go check it out! I’m also currently working on an Almost Famous inspired story featuring our boy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels! Shout out to Blue and Amneris (tagged below) for expressing interest! It’s gonna have a more serious tone compared to this series, but I’m enjoying planning it out. Love you all like peanut butter loves jelly!

Tags!!

@blueeyesatnight

@amneris21

@oonajaeadira

@apsiringghostmusicians

@a-trial-run-on-paper

@grampsgirl14​

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x animal handler #fanfiction #fanfic #elegantmusicdragon #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic

[jovialtorchlight]

“It’s beautiful. Beyond words. When I see it I weep, ugly, open mouth, tears and snot flying. I collapse. My cheeks are stained with tears. My eyes sting. My chest hurts from the heaving and the braying.  I have no idea what it is. It is destroying me. Please help,” she says, removing a paper bag from her pocket and sliding it across the counter, passing it to a greasy man in his middle-ish ‘40’s, a beer belly poking out from a stained white tanktop. 

“Listen lady,” the pawn shop owner grunts, “I don’t know if you’re high or what, but we don’t buy anything sketchy.”

She leans over, too close to the man’s face, so close she can smell the stale nicotine and burger grease on his breath. Her nostrils flare.

“I’m not a lady,” the woman says.  For a tiny flash of an almost second, the pawn shop owner swears her skin dances up like a flame, flickering, bursting out of her skin.  

“Before you judge the contents of the bag, you need to look inside,” she says, commanding, her piercing blue eyes unblinking, unwavering, like a cat staring down a cornered mouse. 

“Jesus, take a step back,” he says. She doesn’t. What the fuck is it. He thinks.  Maybe it’s cocaine.

 “Fine.” He takes the bag, opens it, stares inside.

“It’s…it’s..” His eyes water. He can’t close them. What the fuck? What the fuck? 

 Eyes are burning, fire, acid. “What the fuck is it? ”

“Nothing. Everything. But it’s yours,” the woman says, grinning. As she grins, her skin dances, like oil catching and burning into gas and she’s gone and the man is on the floor, writing, screaming, clutching his eyes as his retinas leak out from his sockets onto the dingy hardwood floor and the Unknowable sits on the counter in a half open paper liquor store bag.

[lu-vin-it]

Bᴀɴᴅs ᴀɴᴅ Pᴀᴄᴋs

Pᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Jᴀᴄᴏʙ Bʟᴀᴄᴋ X Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴇᴛs Jᴀᴄᴏʙ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴀɴᴅ’s ᴘᴇʀꜰᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴘɪᴢᴢᴀ sʜᴏᴘ, ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ.

Pʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴs: you/reader

Wᴏʀᴅs:

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Nᴏɴᴇ

A/N: Rᴇʙʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs ʜᴇʟᴘs ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ. *Wɪɴᴋ Wɪɴk*

“Crawling in my skin, these wounds, they will not heal. Fear is how I fall, confusing what is real.” You start the song off. This was your second song of the night. You and your band (consisting of you, bassist and lead singer, Andy, keyboard and screamer, Eloise lead bassist, and Grayson, drummer) had finally gotten a regular gig at a popular pizza place in town.

You didn’t always do songs like ‘Crawling’ by LINKIN PARK, but it was usually a song you guys played at least once.

“I’ve felt this way before-“ you were interrupted by Andy taking over.

“So insecure!”

Music was always a passion of yours, and now that you knew Andy and Eloise, you felt like pursuing it as a career was actually an option.

Grayson was your younger brother, and ever since you could remember, the two of you would be making some form of music for your family. Putting on little concerts while singing disney songs for your family was the highlight of your childhood.

Andy and Eloise were dating, and although that usually ended badly, you didn’t see how it could do that with them. They were in an open relationship and had been together for 3 years. You couldn’t see them breaking up anytime soon.

So now here you are, singing your heart out with your best friends. A group of three guys walk in, two messing with each other while one walks in front of them with an unreadable expression. You continue singing, briefly glancing at the boys every so often. You felt a strange pull to the boy with the unreadable expression.

The song ended and the room erupted with applause.

“Thank you all so much! This next song is called ‘Cocaine Jesus’ by Rainbow Kitten Surprise!” You nod to Grayson and he starts off the song. “Listen in, it isn’t when you're talking for your name sake, jesus mary magdalene you are, are you okay?”

You looked around in the audience, stopping at the group of boys to observe them, you looked at him for a few seconds, but then he looked up at you and you locked eyes. His jaw dropped slightly as he looked into your eyes, you quickly tore your eyes away as you got to your favorite part of the song.

“But even then. When you find an old picture of us, do you clear away the dust? I hope you miss me sometimes. When you see a frame that reminds you of me, would you remember the times? Oh the times that we believe in a cocaine jesus in a black four seater-“ You started swaying to the music, letting it take over your body completely.

After the set was over, you and your band packed your things and brought them to your band.

“Hey! Wait up!” A male voice called out. You turned around to look for the source of the sound, only to be met with the guy from earlier jogging towards you. “Hey!” He says panting. “You walk fast.” He says awkwardly.

“You run slow.” You reply smugly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Haha.. you were really good out there! Y-you all were!” The guy nervously exclaims.

“Thanks man!” Grayson said, patting the guy on the shoulder. “I’m going to go inside to get some pizza. You guys in?”

“I’m in.” Andy says, they looked over to their girlfriend and pleaded with her silently. Eloise sighs and rolls her eyes.

“I guess. But I’m not paying.” Andy smiles and grabs her hand before pulling her to catch up with Grayson who was already halfway through the door.

“Yeah, fine, leave me to put everything away! Fuck you guys!” You yell at them, Eloise giggles and flips you off as Andy and her walk into the restaurant. “Sorry ‘bout that..” You say to the guy in front of you. “I’m Y/N btw.”

“That’s a really nice name. I-I’m Jacob. Jacob Black.” Jacob offers his hand for you to shake and you take it with a smile present on his face. He was adorable.

“Hey- uh- I know this is really weird but can I get your number?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah sure handsome.” Jacob smiled and handed you his phone, you put in your number and then texted yourself. “There you go Jacob, Jacob Black.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.. oh! Do you want some help putting this stuff away?” Jacob interrogated, turning to look at the drum set that was messily scattered across the van.

“You know what, that would be great, thank you so much.” You giddly accept. Being around him somehow made you feel over the moon.

A week had now passed, and it seemed like you couldn’t get enough of Jacob. You had gone on 3 dates, and when you weren't performing or out with him, you were calling him.

“Jake, I’ll be there in 4 minutes.. are you sure you wanna introduce me to your friends right now? Like.. I don't wanna assume, but I don’t know, if we are in a relationship it’s only been like 3 dates.” You inquired, worry lacing your voice.

“Y/N, I really really want you to meet them. And of course we’re in a relationship.. I mean- we are- aren’t we?” Jacob asked, suddenly overthinking.

“I-I mean I want to be if you want to be..”

“Okay then, yes, we’re in a relationship.” Jacob smiled to himself, before remembering how near you were. “I’ll wait outside for you, there’s something I have to tell you when you get here.”

“Oh god. That’s incredibly scary.” Jacob laughed, and you barely heard him walk out of his house before he responded.

“It’s nothing bad babe, I promise.”

“Okay good. Oh hey I see you!” You park in front of his house and hang up the phone. Jacob was already opening your door whilst you grabbed your bag.

“Hiya loverboy!” You remark just as you wrapped your arms around Jacob to hug him. You loved his hugs more than anything. He was always so warm, and he smelled amazing.

“Hey.” You pulled away and cupped Jacobs face.

“So what did you wanna talk about?” Jacob’s smile faltered, and he grabbed your hand.

“You have to promise not to run away.” You raise your eyebrow and cock your head to the side.

“Okay…” You suspiciously agree.

“Come on.” Jacob starts walking you deeper into the woods.

After around ten minutes of walking, Jacob looked around before taking off his shirt, and beginning to take off his pants.

“Woah! What the fuck!” You quickly slam your eyes shut.

“Just hold on, okay?”

“Jake, sweetheart, what is going on? I don’t know what you think is gonna happen right now but not a lot, I can tell you tha-“

“Y/N, look at me.” You open your eyes to see Jacob completely naked, barely covering himself with his hands. “Just watch okay?” You nod slowly. Jacob stares at you for a few seconds before he starts to transform into a wolf,

“Okay what the fuck just happened..” You wanted to look away, but you found yourself entranced by the wolf in front of you. He was bigger than most wolves, and he seemed more tame. He moved closer to you and nuzzled into your leg. “J-Jake..?” You slowly reached down and started to pet the wolf’s head.

‘What the hell is my life anymore?’ You ponder to yourself. The wolf backs up and before your eyes, transforms back into Jacob.

“What the fuck just happened?” You ask him.

“Let me get dressed and then we’ll go back to my house and talk about it before we go to Sam’s, okay?” You nod and Jacob smiles at you before he starts to get dressed again.

𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹

“Okay so your tribe descended from wolves, when their are vamp- cold ones— near you you shift, making your tribe one of werewo— shifters.” You recap, Jacob nods.

“There’s more.” You deadpan.

“What.”

“So there's this thing that all shifters do, called imprinting. Basically up until we look into our imprintee’s eyes, our lives are off balance, but when we finally lock eye contact, our lives are finally in balance. We can’t live without our imprintee and our imprintee can’t live without us.” Jacob grabs your hands and looks at you in your eyes. “I imprinted on you.” He gulps.

“Oh.” Was all you could think of saying. “So we’re like.. soulmates?” Jacob laughed.

“Yeah, we’re soulmates.”

“That’s really cool.” You giggled. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate, I really like you Jake.” Jacob’s smile widens.

“I really like you too, Y/N.” You both stare at each other for a second before you decide to kiss him. His hands go to your waist to try and pull you closer to him, your hands go around his neck. He smiles into the kiss and you giggle.

“Okay, do you wanna meet the pack now?” Jacob asks as you both part from the kiss.

“Hm.. I suppose.” You peck his lips again as you get off the couch, he follows suit.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡－ @katzw0rld

❦ 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒，𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡．

#Spotify #twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight #jacob black x reader #jacob black #jacob black x you #jacob black fanfiction #werewolf x reader #jacob black reader insert

[001-lvr]

Deadbeat (pt.2)

Warnings: drug use, mention of overdose, angst, swearing, smoking, drinking

Summary: Marcia lost her mom to drugs, her mom died right in front of Marcias eyes. Who knows how she’ll react when she sees her ‘dad’ using ketamine.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

It was the next day, around 6am. Marcia woke up and got dressed. She was wearing a Metallica tshirt and a red flannel. She put her worn out converse on and did her hair. After brushing her teeth and fixing her piercings, she went out to the livingroom. Where she saw Eddie snorting Ketamine. She instantly got flashbacks to where her mom was snorting cocaine every day. Which led to hear death. She sighed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes that was lying next to Eddie, and she took a cigarette out. She didn’t even make eye contact with Eddie as he looked at her. The high was already kicking in and he laughed to himself before dropping his head back. She smoked her cigarette and ate her cereal and about 20 minutes later, Eddie lifted his head up and looked at her as if he was drunk, or tired. “lemme drop you at school, m’Kay?” Marcia cringed at his intoxicated state and shook her head. “I’m not getting in that car with you. You’re high, dipshit. Off of ketamine, you can’t drive me. I’ll walk myself.” She said, grabbing her bag. Eddies brown furrowed. “Marcia no, I can drive you. Seriously, I’m not that bad.” Marcia quickly turned towards him. “oh really? That’s what my mom said. Now she’s 6 feet under! I watched her die. I watched my own mom die. And you saying you’re fine to drive me to school is basically a death wish on both of us. I can never catch a break, my mom was a druggie and so are you. What? You gonna die next? Some kind of dad you are, Eddie.” She grumbled and walked out of the door. Leaving Eddie in the company of his own thoughts.

School was a drag, she spent most of the time smoking in the toilets. She didn’t bother with school, or the people. They were all annoying. At 3pm, she walked out of school to see Eddie parked outside, a sympathetic look plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes and walked towards him and got in the car. “I shouldn’t have taken the ketamine, I’m sorry. I’m glad you didn’t let me drive you to school. But I promise you im not high right now. So please just let me take you home.” He pleaded, and she nodded. She didn’t feel like giving him a proper answer. Just as Eddie was about to start driving, Dustin Henderson came up to him, Suzie standing next to him with a 2 year old baby on her hip. “Munson?!” He gawked, Eddie was just as shocked. “Henderson?!” He got out of the car, pulling Dustin into a hug. “Jesus man, it’s been too long.” Dustin nodded. “Way too long.” He looked behind Eddie to see what he assumed was a teenage girl, smoking a cigarette. “Who’s that?” Dustin asked, pointing at her. Eddie looked behind him and then looked back at Dustin. “That’s Marcia. My daughter.” Dustins eyes widened. “Johanna’s?” He whispered, and Eddie nodded silently. “How come she’s staying with you?” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “Johanna passed, so Marc has to live with me.” Dustin frowned. “Oh I’m so sorry man, shits tough. I hope you’re both okay. I kind of gotta go, I need to plan a dinner with Suzies family and it’s kinda wild right now. But if you arrange a dinner with the others for this weekend, I promise you I’ll be there.” Eddie nodded and smiled, getting back in the car. That was eventful.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•..•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Back at the trailer, Marcia was still sulking in the couch. “Listen Marcia, I’m sorry you had to see me do that but it’s not like it concerns you.” He tried to reason. “Doesn’t concern me? My moms dead asshat. From doing the same shit you’re doing! And what happens when you die too? I’ve never been a first choice for you or my mom. Always drugs. As long as you have your coke and ket you’re fine, right?” Eddie stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just go to your room. I’m not in the mood for this Marcia, I’m really not.” Marcia shrugged. “Gladly, dad” she said, mocking the word ‘dad’ before grabbing a few beers and a pack of cigarettes and walking to her room, slamming the door.

Eddie on the other hand, felt like an asshole. He didn’t know how to be a dad and that was his own fault. He had every opportunity to make things right with Marcia, but he chose his friends and drugs over her. He thought he’d leave her alone for a bit and go to pick up some more cigarettes and beers from the gas station.

Marcia was sat in her room, tears falling freely down her face. She missed her mom so much, she saw her in her sleep. Her pale face and blue lips as her heart stopped beating. Her cold skin, the foam coming from her mouth, it traumatised the 14 year old girl beyond repair. It wasn’t helping that her dad was going in the same direction. She wanted to prove just how scary it is to see someone scarily high. She was going to show him. She wiped her tears and got up, making sure Eddie was gone before going into his stash and picking up the brown powder. She set it out in lines and did about 3 lines, along with that she smoked some weed and drank as many beers as she could.

High was an understatement.

#stranger things x reader #platonic #dad!eddie munson #angst #stranger things #ok bye #x daughter!reader #miniseries #Spotify

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts: #180

BBS Dialogue & Sentence Starter Prompts: [10]

SMII7Y

It all picked up so fast.

Everything works for a reason, boys.

Okay, now we can start picking fights, boys.

They came up so quick.

We must go out into the wild eventually.

The bird cannot stay in the nest their entire life, they must eventually fly.

We lasted as long as we can.

Let's go, boys, this way!

I don't know why I came out here, going back…

Oh, I missed...oh no, I don't have ammo.

They still have someone alive.

He's actually up there.

Every time you get in one, it's horrible.

I'm gonna catch you!

I'm gonna press this button, okay.

Stop panicking, why are you panicking.

I actually didn’t know what that did, I was actually trying to get him killed.

No more pushing the button.

I tried to jump, bro.

Why can’t you stand still?

VANOSSGAMING

What the hell’s this?

How did I get third place?

You gotta go slow, bitch.

What the fuck, what happened?

Not if I kill you first!

Let me shoot him!

Can I shoot him?

You sure sounded like you knew what you were doing.

Did he die?

Why did he do that?

BIGJIGGLYPANDA

Fuck you guys, I’m having fun.

Oh, there’s more of them than I was expecting.

You passed me.

I thought you would’ve listened.

It’s fine, it’s payback.

I’m not playing games with you fucking nerds anymore, I swear to God.

At least we can be miserable together.

It’s not going to matter at this point.

A little too much power.

Aw, look at you with your pockets full of planets.

FOURZER0SEVEN

There’s three people behind us.

Who’s trying to shoot us?

It’s fucking impossible.

I haven’t killed a single person since we’ve been here.

He’s chasing me!

I’m not really near you.

That was just…depressing.

Hold my head…oh you dead.

Uh, everyone just got murdered.

It’s going to kill me immediately.

THE TERRORISER

How did I die!

There’s some fucking creepy dude that’s going to turn around and murder us.

Stop having sex, Jesus Christ!

Do you need professional help?

Who has wronged you, sir?

Just don’t question the logic, there is none.

You don’t want to fucking know what I’ve just been through over there.

Stop singing, just go to the otherside.

So, yeah, it was an accident.

We were almost in perfect sync, except you took it a little further than me.

BASICALLYIDOWRK

I don’t need one, bitch.

I feel like if we were on drugs, we’d be here all day.

You fucking bitch, I had that!

Wait, can I come too?

I’m trying to rotate you.

Now we get in the middle, I think.

Come on, I was on a bowling team.

Yes, I did, call my mom!

I like the confidence.

I just turned them off because I’m afraid of them.

WILDCAT

There’s a whole lot of shit going on, give us a second, bitch.

I just sniped the pilot out.

Let me know when you're coming back.

My man is going to Narnia.

Why do I want the healer?

Oh my God, I can’t see anything.

I can’t see anything.

Time to fly back.

Are we okay? Can we still fly?

Is he coming back for us, this piece of shit.

MOO

If you breathe on me, I’m dead, okay, just leave me alone.

I go for whoever I can, okay.

I’m focusing so hard.

Why would you do that?

I can’t believe you’ve done this.

No, anyone can join in.

Yeah...you did.

Hey, you get back here.

Who’s making that sound?

How does that not kill him?

DAITHI DE NOGLA

Are we going to head upstairs now?

We ran so far.

Oh, that’s questionable.

Why don’t we just pick him up, we’re going to kill him anyways.

Let’s go guys, let’s go...let’s not go, let’s go this way.

She’s on the right hand side.

Well, the goat told me to do it.

She got me, guys, she chose me, I’m so special!

I just had the night of my life.

It’s a great time to go, gentlemen.

H2ODELIRIOUS

I'm leaving the slaughter to you guys.

I'm too drunk for this.

I just got here, man, I brought my own Cocaine.

This is a place you can hide a dead body in.

Do you want to confess your sins!

We murdered him!

We threw him in the fountain.

I don't want to die, I'm too young!

Someone got thrown through a window.

Oh God, I still can't see.

#banana bus squad #bbs #banana bus squad prompts #bbs prompts #smii7y #vanossgaming #bigjigglpanda #fourzer0seven #the terroriser #basicallyidowrk #i am wildcat #moo snuckel #daithi de nogla #h2odelirious #prompts #dialogue prompts #tw swearing #fanfiction prompts #rpf prompts #text #words

[sonoftartessos]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN !!

TAGGED BY: @ayakoito

TAGGING: Eeeeevery one

𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

★  ⸻   WHAT'S YOUR PHONE WALLPAPER?: A photo of my late cat’s pawprint. (This reminds me I need to change it) 

★  ⸻   LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO?: Miracle, Baby, Nothing But Thieves

★  ⸻   CURRENTLY READING?: (Juggling lots) The Celts, A History, Peter Beresford Ellis; Lady of the Lake, Andrzej Sapkowski; Voyager, Diana Gabaldon; Beautiful Boy, David Sheff

★  ⸻   LAST MOVIE?: Beautiful Boy (Jesus, that was in APRIL - I had to check my Letterboxd)

★  ⸻   LAST SHOW?: Daisy Jones and the Six or The Last of Us (They kind of overlapped at one point.)

★  ⸻   WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?: Jeans and a button down shirt (my Victorian-pattern-cocaine-grandpa shirt - I look like the greedy little 30 year old villain in every adventure flick from the 90s.) 

★  ⸻   HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′3 (Also known as a short-arse)

★  ⸻   PIERCINGS / TATTOOS?:  Three tats I designed meself and both earlobes pierced with two holes (ignore the accidental extra holes in my left XD - but I’m only wearing two in my right ear. Left empty.) 

★  ⸻   GLASSES / CONTACTS?: I wear one or the other depending on what I’m doing that day. Gaming and writing, I wear glasses but anything else, I’ll wear contacts. 

★  ⸻   LAST THING YOU ATE?: Honeydew Melon

★  ⸻   FAVORITE COLOR(S)?: Usually blue but it really depends on my mood. 

★  ⸻   CURRENT OBSESSION?: Between obsessions at the moment because it’s game release seasons boiiii

★  ⸻   DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH RIGHT NOW?: Nah 

★  ⸻   FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER?: I love generally well-meaning but morally ambiguous characters or ones who do terrible things for the right reasons. Arthur Morgan is the first that comes to mind. 

★  ⸻   LAST PLACE YOU VISITED?: Hastings

#ooc #mun #did i overshare? probably #we need more like this for muses too #also #this has inspired me to probably finish and catch up on a load of my other stuff

[zeroducks-2]

In the stranger things fandom you get called a racist for liking Billy Hargrove and than those same people think abused kids shouldn't act out and also wished death on said extremely abused child. Like batfam definitely can be bad but stranger things is an entire beast

This seems to be a case of "the narrative presents this character as Bad™ therefore everyone must dislike him, and who instead likes him is automatically off of the moral high horse, which means they are Bad™ too".

Whereas Steve was redeemed by the narrative (and from Cool Guy turned into Loser Dude the moment he stopped being a bully, lmao good job there folks), so every bad thing he did was automatically forgiven. Billy was given the "sacrifice as a redeeming quality" moment which surely isn't enough for the morally hungry crowd of puritans who will deem people Bad™ unless the narrative doesn't spell it out real clearly for them: "This Character Is Good Now, They Redeemed Themselves, Look At Them Doing Good Things, It's Okay To Like Them Now Child Do Not Fear Jesus Loves You".

Which is pretty bad for sure, but anon, let's be real honest here. This bullshit happens in every single fandom where someone DARES like the bad guy. Long gone are the days where me and my fellows fans were openly drooling over the villain(s) without anyone trying to beat us with the moral stick of doom, calling us perverts and racists and monsters who glorify murder/rape/pedophilia/whatever.

People chug morality juice like cocaine bear with her beloved white powder, and again, this happens for every fandom I've been in for the past five-ish years. Just to make you a simple example, if you dip your toes in the Batman fandom you will know how a lot of fans treat their fellows for simply LIKING Jason Todd.

Not the Joker, Lex Luthor or idk Darkseid or some other "narratively irredeemable" fucker, no, we're talking about JASON PETER TODD, one of the protagonists and pivotal characters for the entire dynamic of the story itself - a good chunk of this fandom of fucking idiots will come at you with pitchforks because Jason kills other criminals in some of the comics in which he appears, so if you dare like him you're clearly the antichrist.

Even if Jason is traumatized as fuck after having been brutally murdered at 15 by a maniac with a crowbar who exploded a building on him after crippling him, and after his bio-mother had betrayed him? YES! EVEN AFTER ALL OF THAT! He's still a murderer and if you dare like him you're A MONSTER!

And let us not forget! In some chunks of this fandom you will get called a racist if you draw Dick with the skintone that he has in EVERY SINGLE COMICBOOK in which he appeared since the literal '30s, because some writer at some point decided that Dick has a Romani heritage, and people are too fucking dumb to understand that Romani is not a race of people with dark skin, rather a mixed group based on culture and language - so drawing Dick with fair skin DOES NOT MAKE YOU A WHITE SUPREMACIST!

So, sorry anon but no, you didn't convince me. A simple "people will attack you for liking a morally reprehensible character and won't listen to reason" isn't enough to convince me that the Stranger Things fandom is worse than this madness I find myself in :)

#ramblings #my asks #feel free to hit me with more nasty things the ST fandom did cause I love the gossip #and really it depends on which part of the fandom you frequent beause my niche of the Batman fandom is awesome #we're all perverts and we love it

[freckleslikestars]

rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better.

tagged by: @inuendo-outuendo - thank you my lovely!

favourite time of the year: Any time of the year but summer.

comfort food: probably carbonara, which is incredibly boring of me, but it’s got to be a really well made carbonara

do you collect something: copies of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Cool rocks. I used to collect bottles.

favourite drink: a Lemon Drop (vodka, lemon juice, tripple sec and simple syrup) or a Macaroni (absinthe & dry vermouth) depending on what mood i’m in. And for non-alcoholic choices...orange juice I guess. Or a lime and soda.

favourite song: I don’t think I have an all-time favourite song. Like, I love so many songs and pieces of music that picking one overarching favourite feels wrong.

current favourite song: Cocaine Jesus by Rainbow Kitten Surprise - my manager reminded me how much I love it and I haven’t stopped listening to it for like two weeks now.

favourite fic: Again, there are so many good fics out there it’s really hard to choose. All-time favourite is probably Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits, though the fic that I’m craving updates at the moment and that I can’t stop thinking about is this is the last time by @melforbes because the earth based farscape angst is what I really need at the moment.

Tagging: @ariverofsongs @baronessblixen @frogsmulder @mypanicface @therainking @dangerscully @bitshortforastormtrooper @starrynightsforever @scullydubois and anyone else who wants to :)

#getting to know me #tag game

[bambi-lesbian-posts]

for the ask game <3

1 comfort characters?

2 lighter or matches?

5 eye colour?

6 why did you do that /j

14 do you like the smell of earth after rain?

24 on a rooftop, what are we doing?

33 last adventure?

34 a song you know by heart?

42 other apps then tumblr?

49 can you skip rocks?

50 can I tag you in things?

Oh yay! Okay, here we go,

1. Well, it seems to change every time I think about it, but here's the ones for this moment: Betty Boop, Bod(Nobody) Owens from The Graveyard Book, GLADOS from Portal 1&2, Ralsei from DeltaRune, Suzie from DeltaRune.... I can't think of any more rn

2. When it comes to using them, matches. But they have to be from a match BOX, not a match BOOK. The ones in matchbooks are thin and flimsy and I don't like them. When it comes to, like.. aesthetics and such, I actually prefer lighters because they are pretty and can be customized

5. Mine are a darkish brown. As @subtitlez has told me before, they look like a young-ish tree's bark. I've never really been sure what that means bit it seems descriptive enough

6. Adjdbsjf good question. My impulse control is. Almost nonexistent

14. YEAH it's probably one of my favorite smells ever on the planet. If there was a cologne that smelled exactly like that I would sell my limbs to get ahold of it

24. We are.. talking. Talking and watching the sky, and maybe we ordered takeout so we're sitting comfortably and munching on our food. In my mind's eye, it would be the beginnings of a sunset, because the sky is prettiest then, and it makes me feel a little lazy and comfortable

33. That's a good question. I haven't been out much in the last month or so, so I guess it would be when I visited family in a town 3 hours away this Thursday. Or maybe it would be the 100 Flowers art exhibit I saw a while ago. Those don't feel very adventurous to me, though. I'll have to plan a new one so I can impress you

34. Oh gosh, again, there are almost too many to count. For perspective, I have a Playlist that I listen to almost daily, on shuffle, that has over 300 songs in it. I know a great deal of them by heart. Some that I'm thinking of at the moment would be: Gotta Be A Reason by Alec Benjamin, The Sound of Silence by Disturbed[this is a cover], Blood by Breaking Benjamin, and Cocaine Jesus by Rainbow Kitten Surprise.

42. Discord, most likely. If not that, then Pinterest and ibisPaintX in equal parts, for my art.

49. Yes! But I won't claim to be very good at it. I can get a couple skips in there, usually 3-5, but I haven't skipped any rocks lately so that mightve changed

50. Yes yes please do! I love tags! I love it when people show me things

#thank you for the ask!!! :D #leesbian42 #bambi lesbian asks #ask game

[dollythesheepp]

Endless Forms Most Beautiful, Chapter 2

You can read it on ao3 here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/39467289/chapters/99185058

"You look like crap," is the first thing her brother says to her.

Grinning, Janis jumps out of her seat and wraps him up in a big, long-awaited hug. Once they break apart, she takes a moment to look at him. Damian doesn't seem much different from the last time they saw each other. His style surely hasn't changed, she thinks, looking at his Evita t-shirt.

"How's life, my man?" she asks as she ruffles his hair, a big smile still present on her face. Damian rolls his eyes playfully as he tries to fix his previously well-kempt hairstyle.

"You were gone for almost a year, you don't deserve to know," he says. Although his tone remains humorous, Janis can feel a little hurtfulness within his words.

"I didn't miss your birthday, did I?" she jokes, in an attempt to keep the cheerful mood going.

"No," he says. "I would never speak to you again if you did."

She smiles, bringing the cold bottle of beer to her lips. God knows she will need a lot of alcohol and good laughs with her brother to forget what she witnessed at the train station. Hesitantly, she looks down at her feet, and stares at the black purse lying under the table; the image of the woman jumping to her death appears once again at the back of her mind, it seems to be burned into her brain.

"So, how's Danny Devito?" Damian's question pulls her out of her reveries.

"You keep calling her that and then you wonder why she doesn't like you," she chuckles, grabbing a fry and putting it in her mouth.

"I don't care, I don't like her either," he shrugs. "Do you prefer Caitlyn, The Cunt? Cause that works for me too."

"She's fine. I hit her first this time. With an ashtray," she says, not able to stop the cynical smile that spreads across her face. "So...she's a little blue."

"Ugh, I wish I could have seen that."

Janis waits a few moments before changing the subject. In the meantime, they sit in silence with their drinks listening to other people's conversations. She knows how Damian will react, so she has to take a cautious approach.

"Speaking of Caitlyn..." she begins, "I need you to do something for me."

She uses her head to gesture towards the floor, where her backpack is. Damian follows her gaze as she opens it to reveal a brown package hidden inside.

"It's coke," she whispers. Bobby's Bar wasn't known to be a place frequented by law-abiding, ethical people, and it had seen it's fair share of ilegal shit, but that didn't mean Janis had to let everyone know she had 2lbs of cocaine with her. "Do you think you can sell it to one of your blows?"

"Ugh, Janis, come on..."

"I'll give you 15%," she insists.

"I don't care about that," he says "What the hell are you up to?"

"I don't know," she lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. "I wanted out of Caitlyn's and I couldn't do that without money, could I?"

Damian rubs his forehead. As usual, just a few minutes with Janis were enough to give him a headache. Janis can't blame him. She knows she's a shitstorm, nothing but a hurricane spreading chaos everywhere she goes.

"Did you seriously steal her coke? You know she's gonna kill you, right?"

"I'll deal with her later. I'm not worried about that," she says, with a dismissive wave. Caitlyn was the least of her problems.

"I'll see what I can do, ok?" he sighs. "And I want 20%"

"Great," she smiles. That wasn't so hard. But with one problem checked off of her list, Janis' mind brings back the other conundrum that had been bothering her all night.

"On another note, something really weird happened at the train station today," she says, "I saw a woman kill herself."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, and she looked exactly like me."

Before Damian can react, she bends down again, this time she ignores her backpack and grabs the other purse. The woman's purse.

"Do not tell me you robbed a dead woman," Damian exclaims, exasperatedly.

"I didn't, she left it at the platform before she jumped," she says as she rummages through her purse. Amid a mess of lipsticks, pens, empty candy wrappers, and two phones -one with a black case, the other with a light blue one- she finds what she's looking for: the woman's wallet.

"Isn't that still technically robbing a dead woman?"

Janis ignores him as she opens the wallet. It's empty aside from some documents. At the bathroom of the train station, Janis had already taken the liberty of grabbing all of the money that was inside of it and storing it in her pocket. She grabs the woman's ID and holds it next to her face, looking at Damian with raised eyebrows, as if she had just told him a joke and was waiting for him to understand it. He widens his eyes. Janis keeps looking as his expression changes from intrigued to perplexed in 5 seconds.

"Holy shit..." he murmurs, then reaches over and grabs the ID from Janis' hand, looking at it like it's a foreign object, "Veronica Sawyer..." he reads aloud, the puzzled expression still stamped on his face. "It's you with a nice haircut."

"And a nice address," she says. "Dude, what the hell, do I have a twin sister or some shit?"

"Maybe?" he says. "Sure, little orphan Janis Sarkisian finds out she has a rich twin sounds straight out of 'Days of Our Lives', but what if it's true?"

"I'm gonna go to her apartment..." she says, waving in Damian's face the set of keys she found at the bottom of the purse. "I want to find out who this girl is."

Damian throws her a skeptical look.

"Do you want to find out who she is or do you want to steal the rest of her stuff?"

Before Janis can answer, the woman's cellphone — the one in the black case— starts ringing. She glances at it, unsure of what to do. On the screen, the name Chandler appears before Janis decides to decline the call.

---

The next morning, Janis finds herself in front of a nice, two-story house near Lincoln Park. She fumbles with the lock until she finally finds the right key; the door opens directly into a spacious living room.

"Hello?" she says loudly but receives no answer. Still, she examines every room of the house, to make sure she is alone. The place isn't gigantic, with nothing but the living room, the kitchen, and a small bathroom on the first floor. On the fridge door, colorful magnets hold a variety of photographs. All of the pictures are of Veronica and a black-haired man, —based on how close they are in every photo, Janis guesses he's her boyfriend— except one, a Polaroid selfie with a ginger-haired woman. Veronica is smiling in every single picture, she looks genuinely happy; a stark difference from the woman Janis saw at the train station.Glued to the fridge, below all of the pictures, is a travel itinerary and a post-it. Janis squints her eyes and reads the note written in messy handwriting.

See you Saturday, Ronnie! — JD.

Must be the guy from the pictures, she thinks, opening the fridge and grabbing herself a beer. On the second floor, there's a home office, with hundreds of boxes and books filling the shelves; and a bedroom with a closet and an ensuite bathroom.  Janis spends hours digging through Veronica Sawyer's things. She confirms her theory about the boyfriend when she opens the closet to see half of it filled with male clothes, she also finds a bathroom cabinet overflowing with prescription drugs, a pantry full of really good snacks, and most importantly, one box under Veronica's queen-sized bed filled to the brim with documents.

When Damian calls her, Janis is sitting on the living room floor with papers, photos, and credit cards scattered in front of her; an open bag of chips on her lap, and a random news channel as background noise.

"Hey, have you found anything about your doppelganger yet?" he asks.

"A lot, actually," Janis answers. "Her credit is maxed, but she's got a nice house, and her boyfriend Jason is out of town for the weekend."

"Well, unfortunately, your girlfriend is in town," he tells her. "And she is pissed."

"Shit. Did she go to your house?"

"Yes, she was looking for you. And for her coke."

"Fucking bitch... Are you ok?" she asks "Did that crazy bitch do anything to you?"

"I'm fine," he says. "And don't worry, she didn't take the coke,"

"Great. Speaking of which, did you-"

"Yes, I tried selling it," he says with an annoyed tone. Janis can almost hear his eyes rolling. "Philip told me it's bad quality. He can give you 10."

"Ten thousand? That's not enough!"

"For what?"

"To get out of here, Dame," she says exasperatedly. They've had this conversation before. "Set ourselves up somewhere, just the two of us."

"We can talk about this later, ok? Tell me what else you found out," he asks her. "Who exactly is Veronica Sawyer?"

"I don't know, just a girl who looks like me," she says, grabbing a paper she hadn't seen yet. "A girl with a pretty nice life."

"If it's so nice why did she kill herself?"

"CFID Financials, Financial Manager: Dennis Wallace," she reads the paper out loud, forgetting Damian remained on the phone with her.

"What?" he asks.

It's a bank statement. Janis can feel Damian's voice buzzing in her right ear, she knows he's talking to her but she doesn't pay attention to what he says. She's too focused on the words written on the paper.

"Holy shit," she whispers, more so to herself than to her younger brother.

"What is it?"

"She's got seventy-five thousand in her savings account," she tells him.

"Woah."

"It was opened three weeks ago. We could do so much stuff with this money, Damian!" Janis says. She can barely contain the excitement in her voice as her hopes for a restart get higher "We can go to Canada, or maybe somewhere warm. You can go back to drama school..."

"Janis, stop being crazy! It's only a matter of time until someone identifies the body and then it's game over," Damian says. "So you should just drop it all now.

"I'm standing outside Westerburg Station right now..."

She looks at the TV, as a middle-aged reporter from Channel 16 speaks. Janis puts the cellphone away from her ear and turns on the volume of the television.

"Last night, an unidentified woman died after falling onto the tracks. Our witnesses aren't sure how the woman came to be on the tracks or whether foul play was involved. Police have not revealed any details..."

Janis' mouth curves into a smile as puts her phone back into her ear. "Damian," she says. "I think I have an idea."

---

Damian plumps down on his couch with an exasperated sigh and stares intensely at his phone, his thumb hovering over the button.

I can't believe Janis is making me do this, he thinks.

He hesitates for a second and then makes the call.

"Hi," he says when the person on the other line picks up. "A girl killed herself at Westerburg Station last night and I think I know who she is."

"Can you give me a name?"

"Janis," he responds. "Janis Sarkisian."

#janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #Veronica Sawyer #jason dean #Heather Chandler #heather duke #heather mcnamara #gretchen wieners #karen smith #Regina George #cady heron #Mean Girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #heathers #heathers the musical #mean girls #janisxcady