circewritesreasonablywell

[circewritesreasonablywell]

hello world! this is my fanfic writing blog, where i hope to be even more depraved than i usually am. this may fail miserably, or not! who knows! certainly not me! anyways please take a snippet of a joel miller fic i'm writing called Drive In Saturday!

divider by @cafekitsune

You think of it as both a blessing and a curse that your house is one of the only places in the entirety of Jackson that boasts a VCR. 

You’re not complaining, obviously – movie night is whenever you want it to be, and you get to have your pick from the array of more than 2,000 VHS tapes shelved at the Jackson public library. But it also means that your house becomes… something of a tourist attraction on weekends. Without fail, there’s always someone knocking at your door at 8 PM on a weekend – whether it be a group of teenagers, a half-drunk horde of 30-something-year-olds, or a beaming bunch of old ladies.

And you let them in. Every single time. Because you don’t have the spine to say no, to tell the teenagers to fuck off into the sunset, to tell the 30-something-year-olds to go down to the bar and get wasted instead, or to tell the old ladies that you were busy. You don’t even know why they don’t go to the literal movie theater that the Jackson council set up. Or, well, you do – after all, Jackson probably wouldn’t be screening Final Destination 2 to an audience full of elementary-school-aged children – but it doesn’t quell the pang of frustration that lurks in the back of your mind every time you let someone in. 

So when the doorbell dutifully rings on a rainy April evening, you plaster on a weary smile and rise out of the comfort of your couch to answer the door.

Surprisingly, it’s just Ellie and Cat today, which isn’t so bad. They’ve probably frequented your house the most, but you don’t mind much. For all of their teenager-ness, they’re reasonably responsible, which is more than what you receive from the other regulars. Cat, ever the sweetheart, gives you an endearingly shy grin and a quiet greeting. Ellie, on the other hand, offers a nearly maniacal grin; she’s practically bouncing out of her ratty old Converses as she all but shoves a tape at you. “It took me forever to find this one,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

“Well hello to you too, Ellie,” you sigh as you take the tape from her. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre, huh? Not bad, not bad. I think this is where the Final Girl trope originated…” 

“Sorry. Hello,” Ellie acquiesces. “And I have no clue what you’re talking about, but man, if the title isn’t compelling. Anyways, can Cat and I come in?”

You sigh. “Well, since you’ve asked so politely. Come on in.”