#(like household name levels of fame and i'm just like. who?)

[stellacendia]

It seems I have a terrible habit of growing attached to actors that have one outstanding lead role and then only have roles that are relatively minor by comparison and/or in genres I have zero interest in watching

[grapejuicestyless]

Night Shift

Harry Styles x Fem!ex best friend reader

Summery: the song Night Shift

The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same

“Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.” I wiped my lips subconsciously, trying to dry the spit from the boy that vaguely resembled my best friend. Same color hair, same color eyes but somehow less beautiful on the random boy than the one I wanted.

I picked at my skin, my thumb scratching at my hangnails until they bled from the cuticles down my knuckles.

It was always like this. I convince myself I’m fine and go out for drinks. But as soon as I’m not fully sober, he comes back to me like a not as distant memory as I thought he was. I end up wiping my mouth and bleeding on my dress, leaving whoever was there in the bathroom as I make a b-line for the exit.

I'm doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can't help but think of your other in the bed that was mine

So again, I walk the street way past my self set curfew and destroying any self respect I’d scraped up off the floor beneath my feet.

But how could I be angry at him for leaving? My best friend, who had such great opportunities ahead of him. A winding journey of riches and fame. A household name to be made. Such a bright star, why would he stay with his friend, who could barely make it past third period without running off to get lost in her head? Why would he tie himself down with someone who could make nothing of themselves.

I had dreams, I had aspirations that I got so damn close to reaching, but never quite there. Never quite confident enough to take the chances that everyone else was so easy to do. So while everyone grows up into who they want to be around me, I stay here and rott in my childish self pity and hopeless devotion to a man who calls once a month if I get lucky.

Maybe all these reasons could level out my anger issues and make me come up with a rational reason to his forgetfulness to check in with someone who never forgot to make sure he was okay. But they didn’t and instead I only grew more impatient and more irritable the larger he rose into a life we’d dreamed he’d get together. Call it jealousy, but I believe it’s just the bitter part of myself angry at the loss of him.

Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?

When the phone hanging unevenly in the kitchen echoed through the late PM, I let my feet rush across the tile. I almost didn’t answer the phone, scared that if it was the one call I’d receive from him, I’d waste it. Maybe if I called back, by some miracle he’d answer. But I came up with fake scenario‘s to force myself to answer.

What if my mom was hurt?

What if someone needed help?

What if my grandma was dying?

“Hello..?” I rubbed at my eyes, tucking the strands of hair falling in front of my face behind my ears. I leaned into the wall, hip popped out and heal off my foot off the ground comfortably.

“Y/n, hey. How have you been?” His English accent felt like a warm blanket of home. It was his moms Sunday breakfast the morning after a sleepover. It was the dew on the grass we ran through every morning before school.

I bit my lip until my teeth were stained red and there were holes in the skin so deep it could scar.

“Oh. I’m good. How have you been?” He laughed, it was airy and light with the blissful ignorance to the hurt he inflicted on me every time with these damn calls.

“You don’t sound too excited to hear from me, y/n/n.” Mentally, I rolled my eyes.

On the outside I came off as rude and standoffish towards any sort of topic involving our situation, but inside I craved for him to chase me like he still wanted me in his life. Just for him to care enough that me not caring broke him into the same shards he’d shattered me into when he left.

“No, just a little tired is all. So, how have you been, Harry?” I tried again, brushing the tense muscles away like everything he said didn’t deeply bother me.

He sighed. I could imagine in that moment that he was pinching his brows and blinking rapidly like he did all those years ago whenever he got slightly out of sorts.

“I’ve been doing really good, recently. I’m touring with the boys.” I nodded, though he couldn’t see me, it felt instinct to get tight lipped and short with him.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the show, by the way. I really wanted to come.” I answered his next question before he could ask it. I knew he’d ask me if I was sure about not coming to his shows. It was a yearly occurrence.

At first I’d show up. Only to the first tour. The second one I had a work conflict with. My the third I had given up even checking my calendar, the embarrassment of my life being only a fraction of what his was worth too embarrassing for me, let alone how embarrassing it was to him. Even if he’d never admit that he found my life boring and undesirable, he’d shown it by leaving everything I worked for behind.

“About that, listen.” He started, I braced myself for what he was about to ask.

“I think it might be nice to catch up. Im in town, I wanted to see you tonight. You remember that cafe on the corner of Washington? The one we went to all the time when we were younger?”

“It closed last year, H.” I checked the clock. The line went silent.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I bit at my nails in anticipation.

“How about the old coffee shop that sold sea salt taffy’s at the counter?” I hummed.

“Yeah, okay. What time?”

“How about eight? Does that work-“

“Yeah sounds great. See you then.” I hung up the phone harshly, ready to stab him in the heart for leading me on like he cared still or let him twist the knife he’d already put through mine. I knew why he’d called.

Every so often he’d get reminded by someone of me, then he’d get consumed with an insurmountable amount of guilt for not staying in touch. For letting himself drift away. He’d call like we had talked just the other day and go about his life forgetting me once again.

Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet?

What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?

I arrived at the shop first, finding a table situated near the back, where we always used to sit so we could talk as loud as we wanted and not get hushed.

I placed our coffees under the small napkins laid out to absorb the water rings that gathered occasionally. I ordered the same two black coffees Harry and I had always loved since we were young. Truthfully, I had no idea if he even liked it black anymore.

When the bell rang, my breath was caught in my throat. There he was. The same tall, tanned boy with the curly mop of soft brown locks and sparkling green eyes smiling softly at me. And my heart still raced the same way it did in elementary school.

“Y/n, oh my god you look great.” He reached out for a hug. I hesitated to return it. I was afraid to take in his scent. I was afraid to get attached to something that didn’t belong to me anymore. If I got attached it would only be harder to let it go again. I already lacked the supplies to patch my broken wings, how would I fix them if I allowed him to tear them straight off?

And when I did smell him, it was like a bubble of heaven surrounding my body. I could melt into his chest and just be fully vulnerable. It was the smell of my childhood and the promises of forever that we’d sworn on.

“I got us coffee. Black, like old times.” His lips pulled back and his teeth clenched.

“I actually don’t drink caffeine anymore.” Oh.

“Then why the coffee shop?” I almost laughed at his stupid choice of place. I almost let out a string of curses and begged for answers why I was even there. If not to drink until I’m up for days and pretend you miss me like I miss you, then why call me?

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

“I just really like this place. Never really changed, so.” I nodded. Of course.

A silence covered us like a blanket that was rough and stuffy. The only sounds being those of the soft sipping of my coffee and the clink the cup made as it made contact with the table. Seconds of this turned to minutes, minutes feeling more like hours.

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s still out of her mind. Less than before but she’s still pretty sick so, I’m not expecting her to do much better.” The table between us was suddenly the most beautiful sight ever. The wood my eyes place to settle on to avoid his stare.

“What about your dad?” He pressed on, wanting more out of me.

“He’s doing the best he can. He’s needed a lot of help with mom so I’ve been helping. It’s been hard but it’s nice being all together again. I don’t mind it, it gets quiet over here.” I swallowed a lump in my throat, my tongue finding a home poking at the inside of my cheek.

“Shit, I had no idea it was that bad, babe. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You never asked.” Looking up to meet his face was like watching him process his lack of involvement in my life. It was watching him go through every stage of grief at once and every bit of it was doused in guilt.

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Silence consumed us again. From afar I bet we looked like we were on an awkward first date. You never would have guessed that we’d know each other in and out at some point. But life is funny like that. While I live with our memories together like it deserves to be protected, he tosses them out like a side quest leading him to his success without me.

The chair squeaked when I stood, my hand reaching in my back pocket to pull out a twenty.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” I began to leave, only stopping once he shot up and blocked my path with his chest.

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

“What? You’re leaving? Why?”

“Harry, I can’t catch up with someone I don’t even know.”

“You know me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” He raised his voice slightly. His tone wavered, unsure of himself and hurt by my quickness in giving up on us.

“Okay, then you must not know me.”

“Of course I know you.” I laughed but he didn’t find it funny.

Don't hold your breath, forget you've ever saw me at my best

You don't deserve what you don't respect

Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect

“I know you still like your coffee black. And I know that you stayed at home because you got too attached to the backroads here. I know you were obsessed with the idea of letting our children grow up in one of the nice houses up on the hill with the picket fences and becoming just as close as we are.”

“As we were.” I corrected.

“As we are.” He insisted.

“You can’t be close to someone you can’t even remember to call until everyone else is busy.” He shut up, tugging at the hair at his roots.

“Y/n.” The beg tumbled past his lips with no real request. Maybe to just stay in my presence for a moment longer, but that idea was shoved down with all my other fantasies of us still being close like he believed we were.

“I hope your show goes well tomorrow, Harry.” My shoulder brushed his. He reached out for me, but missed by a hair, I felt it. Yet, he made no further movement to come back to me. He didn’t chase what he didn’t want.

Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can't lose what you never had

Exiting that shop hurt more than a thousand cuts in the creases of my body. Each step was heavier and each street light I counted only hurt my head more to count.

The scream I let out by the park bench on the way home was guttural and obnoxious. I could only pray no one overheard my breakdown that came out in ugly sobs and a clawed at chest.

If he was gone, then so was my oxygen. Every time was harder to let go than the previous. All had been over the phone so this was a new kind of hurt. This was dying. This was the light draining and the body shutting down If always feared as a kid. This was me welcoming it.

I could only wish he could feel a fraction of what I felt letting him go like that.

I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell

I memorized his tour schedule for the next year. I knew when he would be in town and I knew when he would be leaving. I could predict when he would call, I could guess what he would ask about and I could accurately mouth the jokes he always said when things got awkward.

So I started helping over my parents help on nights when he was in town. If he wanted to call, I wouldn’t be there to contribute to his sudden remembrance to his humble beginnings.

I started avoiding my phone. I stopped walking through the kitchen. I started going to bed early when I was at home. I started to stop praying on his call to come and started to pray it wouldn’t.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

Getting over him wasn’t an option, but I could distract myself with the people present in my life. My friends became my best friends and he slipped into a distant memory after some passing weeks. The mention of his name still had my heart racing at a speed that was pitiful for someone so mistreated, but I no longer longed for his constant presence.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

It had been a year since that night that I walked out. It had been a few months since I developed my schedule to avoid his calls and pleas for my reassurance he hadn’t lost me. And it had been long enough for me to do the unbelievable.

When the phone rang in the kitchen I didn’t shuffle as quick as possible across the tile like I would. I didn’t rationalize with who it could be, what could be happening. I let my feet drag slowly to the wall with the same old phone on it and I answered.

I answered the phone, picking it up off the wall, and before he could get a word out about his relief that I’d answered, I set the phone back against the wall, ending the call before it began.

I did the unbelievable. I stopped caring.

You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift

And I'll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers

[hsfan94]

Sweet Nothing

Harry had a rough few weeks. He hardly had a break between his LA shows and the South American leg. Then, after the second show of the leg fans crowded his car. He appreciated the support and the enthusiasm but he’s quite claustrophobic and anytime he gets surrounded by people, it gets a little hard to breathe. On top of the go-go-go and the mild mobbing, people wouldn’t stop asking about his breakup.

He hadn’t been with Olivia for a few months and if it was up to him he wouldn’t have even made an official announcement, but she insisted they put it on record. He wasn’t sad or anything because he had been in love with Y/n for a long time and he decided he didn’t want to be with anyone that wasn’t her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be asked about it or see stuff online about it. Sometimes it just felt like everyone wanted something from him.

Harry had met Y/n around the time One Direction went on hiatus. She knew who he was but desperately tried to pretend she didn’t. She was an up and coming actress and she told him that if it was her, that she “wouldn’t want to be treated any differently just cause she was in some movies”. Y/n never expected anything of him. She just wanted a friend and that’s what she got. Y/n wasn’t in the same level of fame as Harry by a long shot. He thought the world of her but she was very selective with her parts and had yet to become a household name. She never had to experience the things he did, such as often being treated like a zoo animal, but she always tried to understand and cheer him up.

Presently, Y/n was staying at his home in North London, as she was shooting a movie in the UK. Harry couldn’t wait to see her. He drove up to the house ready to go inside and go right to sleep. But when he walked through the door, he was met with the most mouth watering scent and sweet little hums of his songs from his sweet little best friend.

He walked into the kitchen and there she was, cooking and humming away. He walked right up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Harry! You scared me!” She jumped a bit but remained in his hold.

“What’s all this, Angel? I thought you were just sleeping here?” He settled his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled his cheek against hers.

“I had an inkling that you wouldn’t eat if there wasn’t someone here to feed you.” She stirred the pan one more time then turned in his hold. “‘Sides I had nothing else to do and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? What about?” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “And thank you. You were right. I was just going to go to bed.”

“I heard about your breakup and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she said.

His heart melted. She was too sweet.

“I’m okay. Thank you.”

She didn’t drop it though.

“Are you sure? You were with her for a while and I want to make sure you’ve had time to process alone. Without the media’s opinions, y’a know?”

He ran his hands down her arms until he got to hers. He gathered them in his and brought them up to his lips.

“I’m fine. You know why?"

"Why?"

"I broke up with her." He paused. "I’ll be honest I was feeling a little down the last few weeks because I was overwhelmed. But I’m better now that I’m here. Wanna know why?”

She nodded for him to continue.

“Because I came home to you.”

She was lost, he could see it on her face. She carried on the conversation.

"Well, I'm glad I can help." She turned back around and continued her humming.

Harry just rested his chin on her shoulder deciding not to push his feelings on her tonight.

"Harry?" He hummed and she continued. "Why did you break up with her?"

"I decided I didn't want to be with someone I didn't love."

She paused her movements.

"You didn't love her?" Her head turned to look at him and she was so close he could feel her breathe.

"No."

"Then why were you with her for so long?"

It wasn't judgemental. She was purely curious about it.

"I kept thinking I might get over the feelings I have for someone else. That I might fall in love with her if I gave it enough time but here we are."

"So... You love someone else?"

He nodded.

"Hmmm." She turned back to the stove. "Well, are you going to be with them now?"

"Hopefully. I just don't know how they feel."

"Well, anyone would be stupid not to love you." She leaned her weight into him a bit more.

He was astounded that she seemed to have no clue he meant her.

"Angel?" He said after a moment.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Oi! What the hell does that mean?" She whipped around, a look of offence on her face.

He chuckled.

"You just said anyone would be stupid not to love me. So, are you stupid?"

She smiled at him.

"No. I'm the most clever of them all." She turned back around.

God she was clueless, he thought.

"So, you love me?"

"H, I tell you I love you all the time, how could you not know?"

He groaned, she didn't get it.

"Never mind."

He detached himself from her and went upstairs to change. How did she not understand he was talking about her?

He stumbled into his room and there on his pillow was a welcome home card. He picked it up to see it was hand made. She was too sweet. He opened his dresser to pull out something to sleep in and he found a T-shirt she had got him for Christmas in 2019.

"Open mine now!" Y/n shoved a bag into his lap.

They were gathered in a circle on his living room floor. Their small group of friends (Jeff, Glenne, Mitch, Sarah, Tom and Jenny), had decided to do a small Christmas party with each other to celebrate his album coming out.

"Okay, okay." He laughed at her excitement.

He slowly took the tissue paper out and pulled out the T-shirt she had stuffed inside. When he opened it up fully, he laughed so hard he nearly peed.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. Now you open mine." He handed her a small box wrapped in Frozen paper, just because she loves that movie.

Watching her unwrap it carefully so it didn't tear was torture. When she had the paper off and opened the box she was rendered speechless.

"Harry, it's beautiful."

It was a ring that had both of their birthstones and initials on it. She got up from her spot and straddled his lap hugging him tightly.

"I love it. Thank you."

That had been his favourite Christmas to date.

He slipped the shirt on, wearing only it and his underwear and headed back downstairs.

In the kitchen, she was finishing up putting their food on plates. She stopped her movements when she saw him come in wearing the shirt.

"Why are you wearing that?" She laughed.

"Because," he pointed to the words on it, "Y/n is my best friend in the whole world and I love her more than anything."

"I know that's not true, but thanks for humouring me." She was laughing as she walked to the table with their plates.

"It absolutely is true. That's why I put it on." His face was serious now. He was done letting her deflect her importance to him.

"More than anything? Really? More than tequila? Wine? Vintage cars? Touring?"

He felt she had more she wanted to put out there but he stopped her by coming over and draping his arms over her shoulders.

"Yes. More than all those things."

"Why?"

"Because. You're the one person who doesn't want anything from me. You make me feel so normal. And I love all that other stuff but it doesn't give me that feeling."

"I still don't know if I believe you but I'll take it." She giggled but he wasn't pleased.

"I mean it. Coming home after a stressful month where everyone wants something from me, wants me to be doing more, and you're just here cooking me dinner, because you want to take care of me. How could I not just be head over heals in love with you." He hadn't wanted to confess tonight but she was so frustrating.

"What...did...did you just say?" He mouth was parted in shock.

"I'm so in love with you. I'm sorry to just dump it on you but...god I just..."

She cut off his mumbling by pouncing on him. She wrapped her whole body around him, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, and peppered kisses all over his face.

"I love you too."

"Really?" He looked at her, not believing it just yet.

"Really. I can't believe you didn't know. I thought it was so obvious. Especially when I asked to stay with you. You remember I have a place in London right?"

"No. I thought you sold it and that was why you were always staying here."

"Nope. Just want to be around you as much as possible."

She kissed his mouth this time.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Coming home to you in the kitchen humming and getting sweet kisses? Hell yes." He was smiling so big but he couldn't help it.

"Good. Me too." She looked down at his shirt. "Think I need to get a new one made for this Christmas. I have a new title now."

"Sounds like a great idea to me." He kissed her once more and then said, "Come on, let's eat."

[gerardpilled]

are you aware that your tumblr posts are posted on every other social media in the mcr fandom? you’re like a full blown celebrity on the mcr subreddit and on mcr tiktok. i just thought you should know that from what i’ve gathered you’re basically a household name in the mcr fandom lol

uhhh yeah kinda... I know people repost my posts and sometimes I see it naturally, sometimes my friends or followers send it to me. I guess I don't really process that means people know who I am. It makes me kinda anxious that discussions are being had over what I say and the narrative is sorta out of my control. I don't consider myself a celebrity but even so I think "famous" in mcr internet circles is one of the least impactful/meaningful forms of "fame". I honestly get worried that people see me as a fandom celebrity and then project a higher level of expectations onto me when I'm the same as everyone else on this site. All that said, I am happy people enjoy my posts and I am not at all against reposting them! :)

[destinyc1020]

To explain my ask, I didn’t say would Tom be more successful if he was based in London, and I was not suggesting he leave HW. I was merely curious as to what his film options might be. Britain seems to be turning out a lot of fine young male actors who seem to end up in the US. I suppose it was more of a would he be as successful as he is now, and would he have chosen films like Cherry. I didn’t make myself clear, I believe. Do you think young actors see success in HW as the goal? I guess I was thinking of London based actors who do US and British films. I hope I’m making myself clear. Sorry for the confusion of my ask.

Oh okay...I see more of what you were trying to ask. I mean, honestly?? I think that's one of those questions that we will probably never know the answer to, because he didn't go that route. 🤷

I think Tom would have been successful regardless eventually (he's talented), but I do think that being Spider-Man and in the Sony/Marvel film franchises helped catapult him to a level of fame in a quick time frame (almost overnight) that many his age just don't see.

Do you think young actors see success in HW as the goal?

Tbh I'm not really sure, because I don't know what every actor is thinking. Some actors view success as simply just having solid, dependable, and reliable work on a consistent basis. Some actors view "success" as winning an Oscar (that's not good and that can get you in trouble). Some actors view "success" as simply being able to make GOOD movies that they are proud of, and maybe working with a particular Director or cast that they've always wanted to work with. Some other actors may view "success" as having blockbuster films at the box office. Some may view "success" as being a household name or on the "A-list", regardless of what their filmography is. It's just a hard question to answer because everyone views/defines "success" differently. 🤷

I feel like MOST actors though just want to be able to make GOOD work that they're proud of, and to challenge themselves and grow as an actor, whether they are working in Hollywood, or theater, or in England, etc. Hollywood is kind of like the dominating force when it comes to movies though, and American films are seen all over the world and are kind of looked at as the "gold standard" as far as "movie-making" is concerned (even though there are PLENTY of really really GREAT films from other countries and cultures that are made every year, but just don't get as much worldwide acclaim/media coverage). So yea, I'm sure a lot of actors feel that if they can make it in Hollywood, then that's a huge milestone. 😊

I hope that answered your question? I tried my best lol.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Thirteen (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“You know who this is?”

The boxer on Detox’s screen is pretty. Real pretty. Also one that Vanessa knows well, after watching videos upon videos of professional boxers that Brooke would send her for homework when she had first started training.

“Olivia Lux.”

Detox gives her an approving smile. “Ding ding ding. You know who else she is?”

“Who?”

“Your next opponent.”

Hold up.

“Wait, what?”

A/N: Hi, I'm still alive! Slowly but surely still working on this fic. If you're still here and reading and reviewing, I appreciate you tons. Hope you enjoy this chapter, things are starting to pick up. Thank you writ for betaing <3

Vanessa’s not sure what to expect when Brooke asks her to come to morning practice half an hour earlier than usual, but Detox in a bright yellow suit with her Louboutins dangling off the side of Brooke’s desk is the last on her list.

“Look who it is. The prodigal athlete herself,” Detox smiles as she flips her ponytail over her shoulder, and Vanessa can’t help but be impressed by her full face of makeup at six in the morning.

Brooke is an adorable contrast sitting next to Detox, the rumpled sweats and top knot pairing perfectly with the way she hides a yawn behind her hand. “I tried to get Detox to come by in the afternoon, I really did.”

“Please. I have a flight in two hours and a meeting in L.A. at two today with Serena,” Detox takes a sip of her coffee, her lipstick staining the edge of the paper cup. “This won’t take too much time, don’t worry.”

“Who’s Serena?” Vanessa can’t help the curiosity that brews in her chest with every word out of  Detox’s mouth.

“Williams, obviously. Who else?”

Vanessa whistles, shooting a look over to Brooke. “Damn.”

Detox has Serena Williams as a client? Serena Williams, one of the greatest female athletes of all time? How on earth did she agree to work with Vanessa, of all people?

Because of Brooke. Brooke, who’s currently resting her cheek on her palm as her eyes are fluttering while trying to stay awake.

“Anyway, it’s been a few months. We’re milking that meme of yours, it’s still going strong for now,” Detox hops off of the table, her heels clacking against the floor as she sidles up to Vanessa. “But it won't last forever.”

“Cool?” Vanessa’s not quite sure what Detox wants as an answer, really, though she doesn’t look too satisfied.

“Not cool. You need to keep the momentum going. Catch the low swinging vines while they’re still in reach,” Detox pulls out her phone, her eyes darting over the screen and Vanessa almost wants to climb on her tiptoes to take a peek, but then Detox turns her screen to face her. “You know who this is?”

The boxer on Detox’s screen is pretty. Real pretty. Also one that Vanessa knows well, after watching videos upon videos of professional boxers that Brooke would send her for homework when she had first started training.

“Olivia Lux.”

Detox gives her an approving smile. “Ding ding ding. You know who else she is?”

“Who?”

“Your next opponent.”

Hold up.

“Wait, what?”

Vanessa can’t help the panicked lilt in her voice as she takes a step back, her shoulder hitting the side of the doorframe. Brooke doesn’t look as freaked out as Vanessa feels, which makes no sense because Olivia Lux isn’t another run of the mill boxer. She’s a pro. One of the big ones. She’s at the same caliber that Brooke used to fight at. She has sponsorships and fans of her own, and a damn good left hook to boot. Good enough that she doesn’t even need a last name for everyone on the boxing scene to know who she is. The damn Beyonce of boxing.

How’s Vanessa supposed to fight her?

“This is how you’re going to keep yourself a household name. You’re entering the big leagues, kid."

“But...but…” Vanessa trails off, and maybe she’s fidgeting a little bit but she doesn’t exactly know what else to do, not when Brooke is looking perfectly calm about all of this.

“I’ll get in contact with Olivia’s agent and we’ll drum up some publicity, set up some interviews, get the internet buzzing. Should cause a spike in interest in you, no problem,” Detox types furiously on her phone as she stands up, twirling to face Vanessa. “What are you looking so terrified for?”

Vanessa can’t help but look at Detox as if she has two heads, because really, isn’t it obvious? “She’s gonna beat my ass up, that’s why! You want me to die on national tv for a second time?”

Vanessa’s already gone and humiliated herself enough. Facing someone like Olivia Lux right now sounds like an insane idea, it really does, when Olivia has a penchant for flashing her opponents a grin before absolutely pulverizing them.

“So dramatic,” Detox snorts, waving a hand airily. “I’ve seen your training videos and boxing matches. You’ll be just fine.”

“Fine?” Vanessa’s ready to launch into an explanation of how she’s not going to be fine, thank you very much, not with her level of skill but then there’s a hand over hers, and Brooke’s eyes looking at her all warm and comforting.

“It’s going to be your choice, whether or not you want to do this. Always your choice.” Brooke’s thumb rubs against Vanessa’s hand in small little circles and it slows her heart rate down just a bit, enough to keep it from taking flight. “But if my opinion matters, you definitely have the skills and drive to hold your own against Olivia. You’re better at this than you think you are.”

Vanessa lets out a shaky sigh. “Dunno about that.”

Sure, she can hold her own in the ring at an amateur level, in the easier tournaments where her competitors have a similar level of experience as she does. Someone like Olivia on the other hand, who’s trained for more than a decade and won enough belts to cement herself as a legend on the pro scene...Vanessa wants to cover herself in bubble wrap for protection at the mere thought of going up against her.

She really should have picked a sport like golf. Maybe bowling. Something a little less combat-filled if she has to go up against a pro.

“How about this,” Detox starts, standing up and pulling her trench coat over her shoulders, “give it a week. Think about it, decide, whatever. I’ll put some feelers out, and if you want to do it, we can get the ball rolling. If not, well, you’ll have to break into the professional scene some time or another, doll. Might as well do it at the peak of fame, no?”

“We’ll let her think about it,” Brooke cuts in before Vanessa even has to say anything at all, and she lets out a sigh of relief at the interlude.

Detox blows air kisses in their direction as she heads for the door, a perfect Hollywood caricature leaving in a cloud of perfume that makes Vanessa wrinkle her nose. Detox’s mere presence is an event in itself, one that Vanessa feels like she needs to catch her breath to recover from.

Brooke’s looking at her almost warily, her fingers tapping against the desk with a nervous energy. Quite bold for someone who’d probably do just fine against Olivia.

“D’you really think I’d be able to hold my own against her?” Vanessa finally gets out, because now that Detox isn’t here, Brooke will be honest with her, right? Not reassuring her just to look confident in front of Detox?

“Obviously,” Brooke says with an eyebrow-raise. “Like I said, you’re better than you think.”

“But that last match-”

“You think a pro boxer has never lost a match before?” Brooke asks, before letting out a sigh. “Boxing isn’t about how hard you can hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

Vanessa scoffs. “You did not just quote Rocky Balboa to me.”

“Sure did. And it’s true. You’ve lost a match. Cool. Fifty fifty chance of that happening. So how are you going to come back from it in the ring? Are you going to let it keep you from boxing again?”

“No, not that, I just…” Vanessa trails off, trying to search for the right words, “how am I supposed to fight against someone like Olivia? Or try and stage a comeback against a pro?”

Brooke’s lips curl up at the edges, a smile on her face that Vanessa doesn’t quite understand. “Y’know, you’re technically a pro.”

“What? No I’m not. Gassing me up like that ain’t gonna work,” Vanessa scoffs, crossing her arms, but Brooke looks unfazed.

“The definition of a ‘pro’ encompasses someone who has sponsors, who accepts prize money. You’re there, aren’t you? Or did I imagine the billboard of you outside my subway station this morning?”

“Another one?” Vanessa squeaks out, because Jesus Christ. Detox never rests.

“You’re already a pro. And your skill level is rising to catch up with you, too. I really think we can get you to be a solid threat to her, Ness, I really do.”

The sincerity in Brooke’s eyes is almost jarring in a way, because Vanessa knows she’s not joking. Not that she’d joke about something like this, but...still. Brooke believes her own words.

“And you’re really not just saying that?” Vanessa mumbles, because it doesn’t hurt to check one more time just in case she’s going to change her answer.

“I’m really not. Like I said, you’re better than you think you are.” Brooke, to her credit, isn’t looking exasperated with her, despite earning the right to be, and instead, she smiles. “And if you really want to increase your chances of winning, I can always push you a tad harder in the gym, make your conditioning and strength workouts even more intense. Is this your way of asking for it?”

“Now hold on just a second,” Vanessa squeaks, holding both of her hands up in front of herself. “I’m a little too young to experience a heart attack. Still got a baby face and all.”

“You know, I bet Olivia’s pushing herself in the gym right this second,” Brooke says lightly, her smile growing when Vanessa huffs and crosses her arms.

“Well, when you say it like that-”

“Atta girl. Now come on,” Brooke says, sliding herself off of her desk and holding out her hands to Vanessa. “Time to sweat.”

“Lord, have mercy.”

Time is malleable in the professional sports world.

The seconds in between a knockout and the referee making the call can feel like hours, meanwhile months of training can feel like a whirlwind in preparation for a match that creeps up all too soon. Brooke is not sure how two months have passed since Vanessa’s signed on for the fight with Olivia Lux, how their training plan is reaching the peak in anticipation of the match that’s now only a few days away. Vanessa’s everywhere, across from her in the gym and on the advertisements lining the subway cars on her ride home. She’s there when Brooke closes her eyes to sleep and pictures drills in her head that she’ll try out the next morning in practice, and she’s also floating in Brooke’s consciousness when she’s yanked from her dream at 4:30 am by the alarm she’s set to get to the airport on time.

Their flight to L.A is this morning. The match against Olivia is tomorrow. Brooke’s certain that Vanessa’s more ready than she’ll ever be, if her grit at yesterday’s practice is anything to go by.

So why does Brooke’s chest feel full of knots?

The knots loosen a tad when she sees Vanessa stumble out of her apartment building in a losing battle with her suitcase handle, as the sun casts pinks and oranges along the sidewalk. Brooke hops out of the Uber that they’re sharing to the airport to help Vanessa haul the suitcase into the trunk beside her own, and the smile that Vanessa shoots her warms her up on the inside, despite the chilly morning bite in the air.

“Now tell me why we couldn’t book a respectable flight in the afternoon? Why the hell are we leaving at the ass crack of dawn?” Vanessa asks behind a yawn as the car starts to move, and Brooke lets out one of her own.

“Because we need time to drop things off at the hotel, and fit in a training session before weigh-in and media this afternoon, and not to mention heading to bed on time to get a good night’s sleep before the match tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ll get a good night’s sleep after waking up this damn early, I’ll tell you that,” Vanessa grumbles as she rubs her eyes, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh when she tugs her hoodie over her head.

“Aren’t you used to waking up early for practice, anyway? This is only a couple of hours more.”

“I need every minute of beauty sleep I can get, with all those interviews Detox lined up for today,” Vanessa mutters. “You’d think this was the royal wedding or some shit. Two boxers, united in holy ass kicking, on this beautiful autumnal afternoon-”

“That’s the spirit,” Brooke snorts, leaning back in her seat.

There’s something about Vanessa’s presence that always soothes the nerves tingling along her spine, slowing down the thoughts in her brain that run too fast while on autopilot. Just a smile and a wisecrack from under Vanessa’s breath is enough to let Brooke exhale and relax her previously tensed posture. Even when Vanessa doesn’t believe it herself, she has the tendency to reassure Brooke that everything is going to work out. Or at least, as much that can be worked out when partaking in a pro fight for the first time.

Despite the unspoken pressure of what’s to come Vanessa’s still grinning, quips rolling off of her tongue that make Brooke crack up and cause the other passengers in the terminal’s waiting area to shoot them dirty looks. It doesn’t stop as they board the flight either, if Vanessa’s woop of excitement as they reach their seats is anything to go by.

“You mean to tell me Detox booked us in first class? Bitch, I ain’t ever even sat in Economy Plus before. Shit.”

“Perks of becoming a meme, huh?” Brooke asks, storing her carry-on in the overhead compartment.

“I feel bougie as hell now,” Vanessa whistles, though lets out a huff when the shelf is too high for her to slide her own carry-on bag into place.

Brooke grins, plucking the bag from her grip and pushing it in for her. “You didn’t feel bougie when Prada sent you a PR package last week?”

“Nah, but this is different, y’know? One of those things you always hope to eventually do, even when it feels far fetched. This makes it more real.”

Brooke gets it. She remembers first experiencing the perks of her dad’s success - the sponsorships, the connections, their move from their tiny apartment to a penthouse suite. It was the little things at the time that had made it feel real - like the fact that her dad had stopped buying the value brand juice boxes for Brooke’s lunches, and instead went for the kool-aid jammers that everyone else in her class was bringing in. The smaller, minute differences felt more significant, in a way, with the larger changes in their lives at the time more of a fever dream.

“What’re you gonna watch?” Vanessa asks, thumbing through the entertainment display on the seat in front of her. “I’m thinking Toddlers and Tiaras.”

“Seriously?” Brooke asks, raising an eyebrow on the overly hairsprayed child displayed on Vanessa’s screen. “That show freaks me out.”

Vanessa shrugs, crossing her legs on her seat. “That’s the beauty of it. Can’t tear your eyes from the car wreck.”

“I’m gonna stick with Nashville, I’m already in the middle of a rewatch, so may as well keep going,” Brooke shrugs.

“Ain’t that the show on country music? Lord Jesus, you are so white,” Vanessa shakes her head, tutting under her breath.

Brooke scoffs, crossing her arms. “It’s a good show! You can’t talk, not when you’re watching toddlers with spray tans.”

For as much as Vanessa defends her choice of show, she doesn’t watch much of it, not when Brooke notices her eyes slipping closed and her head starting to lean forward before jerking backwards every so often. The déjà vu that flares in Brooke’s chest when Vanessa’s head settles onto her shoulder is inevitable, when the movement mirrors their trip to that fateful tournament where Vanessa’s boxing journey completely changed trajectories. In a way, some things still haven’t changed - the way Vanessa’s eyelids flutter as she sleeps, the soft rise and fall of her chest. Vanessa snuggles in even more against her shoulder as she mumbles under her breath, and the wave of affection that goes over Brooke is the same as what it would have been on the way to that tournament.

She has to ignore Yvie’s knowing words that worm their way into her brain, the ones that have become more and more prevalent over the last few months - you’re into her, she’s into you, why don’t you just tell her how you feel? It’s that easy, and you won’t have to mope anymore. The words that she always scoffs out whenever Brooke has a faraway look on her face, or after Vanessa leaves their apartment after another movie night. Yvie’s perceptive, a little bit too perceptive for her own good, because she’s seeing things that shouldn’t even be there.

Brooke isn’t into Vanessa, because she can’t be. What kind of predatory coach falls for their student?

The way her heart flutters when Vanessa smiles at her is irrelevant, as is the way that she always puts on Beyoncé for their morning warm up just to make Vanessa happy. It doesn’t matter.

Because any coach would do everything in their power to make their athlete happy. It doesn’t mean anything more.

Besides, Vanessa doesn’t feel the same way. Not when her smile lights up her face with everyone she meets, not when her banter and jokes are the same with Brooke as they are with her other friends. She’s friendly and considerate and perfect because that’s just who she is, not because she has feelings.

Yvie’s often wrong, anyway.

Though it doesn’t stop Brooke from imagining what things would be like if she could press a kiss to Vanessa’s temple as she sleeps, or maybe rub small circles onto her palm with her thumb. Provide that reassurance for the fight ahead even while she’s asleep, keeping an eye out for her the way she deserves. Wrapping her arms around her at night because they can share a bed rather than have separate rooms and hey, Brooke would definitely sleep better if Vanessa was in her arms because she felt the same way and-

No.

She can’t.

Thoughts like that aren’t helpful, not when they have no realistic way of happening. Besides, Vanessa’s type is probably more towards the male athletes at the gym. She’s never indicated anything to the contrary, no matter what Yvie says.

Brooke really needs to stop her brain from running full steam ahead with unlikely scenarios that’ll stay fictional forever. Besides, there’s a fight to focus on. One that’ll be the biggest of Vanessa’s life so far. It would be selfish of Brooke to derail it because her heart flutters a little more than it should when Vanessa smiles at her, or speaks in that soft voice that she only uses when she’s feeling pensive, or-

Christ.

The pilot overhead announcing the impending descent and landing is almost a blessing, because it causes Vanessa to stir against her shoulder and Brooke can push away the idiotic thoughts threatening to take over her consciousness, and instead focus on how cute Vanessa looks when she’s blinking away sleep.

“We here already? That flight was five minutes long, max.”

“That’s what happens when you sleep the entire journey,” Brooke murmurs, resisting the urge to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Vanessa’s ear.

Vanessa yawns. “You make a good pillow. I swear, I slept like a baby. You take reservations for that shoulder, at all?”

“What, you want to rent it out to sleep on? That’ll cost you way extra,” Brooke replies, ignoring the longing in her chest that would gladly let Vanessa rest on her any time she wanted.

“I got venmo and cash app. Your choice,” Vanessa giggles, leaning back against her seat. “It’s part of coaching duties and all, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Coaching duties,” Brooke mumbles.

That’s all it is. It can’t be anything more, not when the chance of it ever happening is close to zero.

Brooke really needs to go back to thinking like a coach.

“Why don’t we live in L.A? We could go to the beach after practice every day if we wanted to,” Vanessa huffs out between breaths, before taking a swig from her water bottle.

The view of the parking lot from the hotel’s fitness room is a far cry from the ocean, but Vanessa remembers seeing a sign during their Uber ride earlier today indicating that they were near a beach. A girl can fantasize.

Brooke drops her hands, her boxing pads swinging slightly. “Two words: L.A. traffic. You’d also miss your mom and sister way too much.”

“I’ll give you that,” Vanessa concedes. “My sister? Nah. My mom, though? Neither of us would cope without each other fifteen minutes away.”

“I think that’s sweet, though,” Brooke smiles, before lifting her pads back up, an unspoken signal for Vanessa to go for another round. “It’s nice that you two are so close.”

“Yeah, until she’s poking around my apartment and folding the clothes piled on the chair in my room, and going on about ‘ay, Vanessa, you’ve folded your socks all wrong and did you call your Tia Luisa for her birthday yet? And don’t forget about dinner next Friday, you better bring the tostones because there’s no way I’m cooking absolutely everything, okay?’”  Vanessa tops off her impression with a snap of her fingers. “Nah, I love it, though.”

She really does. It’s nice, the way her and Alexis and her mom have remained such a close family unit, through everything. As much as Vanessa huffs and puffs when her mom begins a lecture two minutes after entering her apartment, she truly doesn’t mind.

“It means she cares,” Brooke grins. “C’mon, one more round and we’re done for the day.”

“Are you sure? Ain’t it not enough?” Vanessa asks, and she doesn’t mean to let her voice waver the way it does, but Brooke gives her that knowing look and grabs her shoulders in a way that tells Vanessa that she’s definitely noticed.

“What have we been doing for the past few months, hm?” Brooke raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to huff.

“Training.”

“And how many hours a day have we been training?”

“A fuck ton.”

“That’s what I thought,” Brooke shrugs, before her eyes soften just a tad. “You’re ready, okay? Even past the physical part of it. Do you think I’d make you write an analysis on Olivia’s fighting techniques just for fun?”

“I still can’t believe you made me do that,” Vanessa replies, wrinkling her nose. “I wasn’t my English teacher’s favourite in high school, lemme tell you that.”

At least Brooke hadn’t minded when Vanessa started her so-called paper with ‘let me tell you something,' or when she threw in some barbs about the weaknesses in Olivia’s fighting techniques.

“It did help though, I can’t lie,” Vanessa concedes. “Watching so many of her fights and breaking everything down.”

“You know how often I go on about boxing being as mental as it is physical,” Brooke shrugs. “No point in going into a fight without a plan. We’ve planned for months. You’ve worked on this plan for months. Do you really think you aren’t ready?”

Vanessa sighs. “It’s not that, I just…” she trails off, slumping slightly as the words she’s been trying to shove out of her brain fight their way to the forefront. “What if I lose?”

She’d lost her most recent match and became a meme as a result. What if her so-called career as a pro will be nothing more than getting her ass kicked and getting made fun of? Vanessa’s a sucker for punishment, sure, but she’s also not a clown.

Brooke shrugs. “Then we prepare for your next match. But what makes you so sure that will happen?”

“I mean, I got thoroughly whooped in my last match, and I haven’t fought since then-”

“Then what do you call our daily sparring where I really don’t hold back against you anymore, at all?”

Brooke’s revelation makes Vanessa pause. “Wait, really? You don’t go easy on me?”

Vanessa’s always thought that Brooke fought at an unattainable level as a pro - someone unstoppable, someone that Vanessa should aspire to be like. But if Brooke isn’t holding back against her anymore, then…

“As you’ve improved, I’ve pushed you harder and harder. You don’t think you’re still at the level you were at when you walked into my gym with press-ons, do you?”

The disbelief in Brooke’s expression is mixed in with pride and a twinkle in her eye - a look that Vanessa always strives to get out of her during training, one that makes her stomach flip in excitement.

“So what you’re saying is, I can whoop your ass,” Vanessa grins, and Brooke’s eye roll is immediate.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Olivia, though? More than capable of whooping hers. You’re ready, Ness. You really are.”

With the way Brooke is looking at her, part of Vanessa may be finally starting to believe it, too.

[oasisspringstownie]

FAME: A Legacy Challenge

Sul sul simmers!

Like many of you, one of my favorite things to do in The Sims is play Legacy Challenges. They lead you to explore new aspects of gameplay, give you new imaginative ideas, and facilitate storytelling. So, a couple of nights ago I got the idea to create a new kind of legacy challenge revolving around different aspects of fame.

The goal isn’t exactly to become the most famous using said career/ skill, but to play around with different elements of the fame system in the game. You by no means need all the packs to play through this legacy. While the experience would be more complete and you will be missing careers and skills and stuff you can obviously adapt it to your need. Also, you are more than welcomed to use mods to enrich your gameplay. I myself can’t play without mods and look forward to see what kind of chaos mods can add to this challenge.

So without further a do below are the 10 generations I concocted like a fever dream at 2 am on a Saturday evening:

Gen 1: A Shaky Foundation

Traits: Cheerful, Ambitious, Self-Absorbed

Career: Acting, Style Influencer (Trendsetter Branch)

You move to a new city full of hopes and dreams. You initially pursue your dream of becoming an actor. However, your career is cut short by the unexpected arrival of your first child. You retreat from the spotlight in order to raise your baby and put all of your energy into making sure they have the best future possible. The rest of the time you spend either working or trying to unwind from your demanding life. What will fate bring you and your descendants?

Goals:

Move into an empty lot with 1600 simoleons for the bare minimum.

Start in the Acting Career, but abandon it for the Style Influencer career once your first child is born. Remain in the Style Influencer Career and eventually choose the Trendsetter Branch.

Max out the Style Influencer Career.

Reach level 10 of the Parenting and Wellness Skills.

Be close friends with all of your children and make sure they each age up with at least 2 positive character attributes.

Gen 2: Get Your Head in the Game

Traits: Active, Music Lover, Outgoing

Career: Athlete, Entertainment (Musician Branch)

Your parent might have seemed very overbearing at the time, but they instilled a work ethic in you like no other. Your entire life you were split between your two passions: basketball and singing. Okay, fine, you're Troy Bolton. After succeeding in the sports world you still find yourself feeling somewhat unfulfilled. You enter the entertainment career later on in life to live out your dreams. Will this be the start of something new?

Goals:

Max out the Athlete Career and then switch to the Entertainment Career (Musician Branch).

Max out the Fitness and Singing Skills.

Be in the drama club in high school.

Gen 3: Going for the Stars

Traits: Clumsy, Loner, Genius

Career: Astronaut

Your parent always told you to shoot for the stars, you just took it a bit too seriously. This world was always a bit too pedestrian for you and you yearn to finally lay your eyes on the astronomical craters of Sixam. There's just one problem: you're terrible at it. It's not your fault, you're just a bit clumsy; but will your two left feet keep you from reaching your dreams?

Goals:

Work in the Astronaut Career your entire life. Get demoted and fired at least once in your lifetime.

Destroy and repair a rocket 3 times.

Live in a tiny home for your young adulthood and adulthood.

Have at least one set of twins. *You can cheat for this!*

Gen 4: The Finer Things in Life

Traits: Materialistic, Hates Children, Lazy

Career: None

You've seen all the generations before you work their little pixelated butts off for every simoleon, but you're not about that life. You were destined for the finer things in life.

Goals

Reach level 10 of the Charisma and Mixology Skills.

Marry and survive 5 spouses. Take that wording however you want. Divorce is not allowed. You must be the last once standing. After all, spouses are like infinity stones. Meaningless.

Never have a job. Only make money from spouses, family, or children. If you get desperate enough you can ask a friend for a loan or steal, but no working of any kind.

Each child you decide to have with one of your rich spouses comes with a 20k trust fund. If they get taken away or die before coming of age, all the money has to be returned to the evil capitalist overlords. You can't get rid of them that easily.

Own at least 1 restaurant/ retail/ business with one of your spouses. Decorate it, assign the uniform, and hire everyone, but you never run it. Why would you go through the trouble?

Gen 5: My Precious

Traits: Art Lover, Kleptomaniac, Self-Assured

Career: Criminal

Your childhood was pretty hectic and you felt like you barely knew your parents. Who needs them? You've never needed anyone else anyway. On your 18th birthday, you receive your inheritance and use it to buy yourself an unfurnished apartment in the nicest building you can find and that's when your money runs out... literally. However, will a new job as a tough guy be the first of many great ideas or will it only be the beginning of the end for this famed family?

Goals

Once you become a young adult give yourself enough money to buy one of the apartments in the Uptown Neighborhood in San Myshuno. It must be unfurnished. After moving in set your money to 0 simoleons.

Complete the Criminal Career.

Reach level 10 of the Mischief and Dancing Skills.

Gain an atrocious reputation and spend the rest of your life trying to cover it up.

Steal 10 paintings from a museum and exhibit them proudly in your home. You are never allowed to sell them. As an adult, hide them in a secret attic nobody else has access to or knows about. They are your precious.

Gen 6: The Muses

Traits: Creative, Family Oriented, Insider

Career: Painter

You could have anything you wanted in the world thanks to your family's empire so you pursued your passion: painting. While you were never close to your other family members you were always very close to your art teacher. This led you to have very close ties to your friends, co-workers, and eventual children. Will your legacy remain for longer in the memory of strangers or your loved ones?

Goals

Complete the Painter Career

Reach level 10 of the Painting, Cooking and Baking Skills

Have a better relationship with your art teacher than anyone else in your family until you're a teen.

Move to a new world once you become a young adult and cut ties with your family.

Be the leader of one club for all your young adulthood and adulthood.

Be close friends with 3 co-workers and all of your children.

Prepare a meal at least once a week with the help of your children. *I know we don't have this in the game yet technically, but I'm hoping to have Cottage Living by the time I play with this generation*

Hang 5 paintings in a museum.

Retire from Painting Career to help care for your grandchildren.

Gen 7: Mole

Traits: Good, Perfectionist, Paranoid

Career: None

You always had a good relationship with your parents. You told each other everything... well, almost everything. You never understood why but one of your parents never talked about the rest of your family members. They explained that they simply never had a good relationship and would rather not talk about it. You respect this until their death when you return to their seemingly abandoned childhood home. While exploring the house you find a not-so-subtle bookcase door and a long forgotten attic filled with paintings. You take them in hopes of returning them but unbeknownst to you, you are being watched.

After an unfortunately unavailable nail-biting car chase, you shake off your attackers. You can't just lead them home to the rest of your family and what would the police do? They don't even arrest Vlad when he's trying to bite all of your sims!

Sorry, different rant.

So you do the only logical thing: you sell the paintings you just stole for some cash to buy an empty lot and skip town. A new life awaits you... just a bit underground.

Goals

Reach level 10 of the Writing, Logic, and Handiness Skills.

Complete the Best Selling Author Aspiration.

After your parent dies, you visit Gen 5's main home and retrieve the paintings hidden in the attic generations ago. Sell them and use the money to buy an empty lot in a completely different world.

Use your remaining money to build a small underground bunker. You can now never leave your bunker or risk immediate death.

You make your income by writing books under your new name. Oh, didn't I mention that? You changed your name to avoid detection. Your children may carry this new fake last name or your partner's.

Gen 8: Part of Your World

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Outgoing, Geek

Career: Social Media

All you knew was the bunker and it's not that you hated it, you just wanted a bit more. You're basically the little mermaid, except you don't get to be a mermaid. You just get a bunker you can never leave and a desperate yearning to explore the outside world.

Your outlet is the internet. From a young age you loved using it to play video games and make friends. As a teen you began to make videos and fostered a community online. Will you finally take your place in the world or remain hidden underground?

Goals

Reach level 10 of the Media Production and Video Gaming Skills

Complete the Social Media Career.

You're never allowed to leave the underground bunker until you're a teen.

You aren't allowed to go to school. Instead you play video games and use your computer for outside interaction.

As a teen you start developing your online presence by posting on social media and making videos on the video station.

You are only allowed to move out of the household once your parent dies and you have enough money in reserves to buy a furnished home.

Gen 9: Natural Born Performer

Traits: Gloomy, Unflirty, Adventurous

Career: Entertainment (Comedy Branch)

Due to your parent's fame, it was always expected you would follow in their footsteps. While a bit more gloomy than most, you are happiest when you make others laugh. So you join the Entertainer Career where you flourish as a comedian. You're also a bit unlucky in love. Will the family name's fame and your own notoriety keep you from finding true love or are you destined to a lifetime of gold diggers and one night stands?

Goals

Complete the Entertainer Career (Comedy Branch).

Reach level 10 of the Comedy and Rock Climbing skills.

Complete Serial Romantic Aspiration

Have four children.

Die suddenly and *mysteriously* in your adulthood.

Gen 10: A Grand Finale

Traits: Kleptomaniac, Ambitious, Perfectionist

Career: Actor

After losing your parents at a very young age, you and your siblings were sent to live with some distant relatives you didn't even know about. While you and your siblings are all very different and you bicker plenty, you always stick together.

After learning you are a descendant of some of the most famous and infamous sims in history, you are determined to meet and surpass their achievements. Will you come out on top or have you flown too close to the sun?

Goals

Complete the Actor Career

Achieve level 10 of 10 skills of your choosing.

Become a Global Superstar.

Get a star on Starlight Boulevard.

Throughout your lifetime you must go on vacation to every house you lived in throughout all previous 9 generations. Oh, and your three other siblings need to come along too. Think of it as Narnia meets It. Also make sure to steal something from each of the houses as a souvenir and display it proudly in your own home.

After you've completed all the things above, get turned into a vampire and choose to end your mortal legacy here... or start a whole new type all together.

Thank you so much for indulging me in this insanity. While I haven't played through any of these generations myself as of yet, I look forward to see the chaos and cuteness possible in The Sims.

Happy simming!

V

[patternsintraffic]

My 100 Favorite Albums of the 2000s: #70-#61

I'm back with more albums that I love. Listing is fun! Who knew?

70. Rooney - Rooney (2003)

In the days of mp3.com, Rooney was one of the bands that I would stream during my Software Apps class in high school. I probably heard "Blueside" and "I'm Shakin'" a hundred times at barely-audible volume before this album came out. The sunny, bouncy melodies, synths, chord changes, and throwback lyrics are reminiscent of the Beach Boys or The Cars. I just love the carefree feel and youthful energy of this album, and the tunes are great. This is a quintessential California album from a verified California band.

69. Rock Kills Kid - Are You Nervous? (2006)

The only full-length album from Rock Kills Kid was just a few years before its time, which is a damn shame. When bands like Two Door Cinema Club came around in 2010 and captivated the indie rock world, few knew that Rock Kills Kid had been pumping out danceable alt-rock four years prior. "Paralyzed" and "Run Like Hell" should have been the songs of the summer. "Life's a Bitch" should have been a staple of high school mixtapes everywhere. Instead, this was a band that just didn't fit in with the musical climate of 2006 and regrettably fell off the map. At least we'll always have Are You Nervous?

68. Feeder - Pushing the Senses (2005)

Feeder have been a UK rock institution for 27 years now, releasing ten full-length albums over that span, though they’ve never made much of a splash in the States. My favorite Feeder album, Pushing the Senses, strays from the band’s signature guitar-driven power pop for a mid-career foray into the Britpop style popularized by Coldplay and Keane. The band received criticism for chasing the sound of the times, but their take on it felt genuine and sounded amazing. “Tumble and Fall” and “Tender” could stand toe-to-toe with any of the soft-rock output from those aforementioned bands. Feeder even let the guitars loose on “Feeling a Moment” and “Pushing the Senses,” two of the most undeniable singles I’ve ever heard paired on the same album. Coldplay and Keane have never reached such energetic heights.

67. Lifehouse - No Name Face (2000)

Lifehouse have become somewhat of a punchline over the years, as they’ve continued to release pretty standard and inoffensive alternative-rock fare, usually with one or two big singles coming from each album. It seems like most people enjoy a few Lifehouse songs, but no one is really a Lifehouse enthusiast. I think that the band’s best material comes from their 2000 debut No Name Face, and though their output since hasn’t made me into a true Lifehouse fan, I will always go to bat for this album. “Hanging by a Moment,” “Sick Cycle Carousel,” and “Breathing” are the songs most would be familiar with from early-2000s radio, and they are all excellent. There’s nothing particularly fancy about the rest of the album, as the songs don’t need any embellishments to shine. They are organic, earnest, and beautiful, and though I’m sure there’s some nostalgia involved I never regret revisiting them. Lifehouse might be kind of a stale name in music in 2021, but No Name Face shouldn’t be forgotten.

66. Acceptance - Phantoms (2005)

Until reuniting for Colliding by Design in 2017, Phantoms was the only full-length Acceptance album. It's not hard to see why this band continued to grow a cult following during their inactive years, as people tend to want more after an album as good as this one. It had the lyrics for the emo kids, the guitars for the rock kids, and the hooks for the pop kids. It's actually pretty surprising that Acceptance didn't make a mainstream splash in 2005, especially since this album was released on Columbia Records. A lot of that may have been due to the exceptionally poor choice to release "Different" as the first single. It's a great song, don't get me wrong, but there are so many upbeat tunes on this record that would have done a better job catching ears and piquing interest in the band. At least we finally got the follow-up album 12 years later, and the band have remained active since. Sometimes everything turns out OK in the long run.

65. Cursive - The Ugly Organ (2003)

I’m not sure what drew me to The Ugly Organ in 2003, at 15 years old. Listening to it now, it’s brash and angular, and not particularly accessible. I was just starting to stray from the music on rock radio at the time, and I came across “Some Red-Handed Sleight of Hand” and “Art Is Hard” online. I think there was something about the urgency in Tim Kasher’s voice, and the acidic way that he spit out the pointed and sarcastic lyrical content, that left me wanting more. It may be the cover art or the cello that permeates these songs, but something always felt a little creepy about them, like the band were performing in a haunted house. There aren’t many vocalists like Kasher, who seems to meld multiple levels of meaning into each line while drifting effortlessly from gentle singing to yelling to spoken word. This is a good one to dust off around Halloween. What a treat.

64. Long-View - Mercury (2003)

Long-View was a short-lived UK soft sock outfit that released one full-length album, Mercury. Nothing terribly surprising here - it sounds like an early-2000s UK soft rock album in the age of Coldplay and their contemporaries. The music is simple and often quiet, the vocals are smooth, and the tempos are mid. But despite it feeling like one of many on the surface, Mercury is charming and engaging. "Further," "Can't Explain," and "When You Sleep" have great hooks. The lyrics sound personal and conversational, and despite being cliche at times they feel poetic against the backdrop of Long-View's delicate instrumentals. An exemplary take on an oversaturated genre.

63. Augustana - Can't Love, Can't Hurt (2008)

After "Boston" put Augustana on the map in 2005, they traded in their indie rock sound for a set of rootsy, earthy anthems on their sophomore effort Can't Love, Can't Hurt. While the songs still sound like Augustana, there is a more classic, timeless quality to this album that has kept it fresh 13 years after its release. The slow build of "Twenty Years," with its swelling strings and piano leading the charge, was the kind of song I didn't know the band was capable of writing before this album. And "Sweet and Low" has one of the most sublime hooks I've ever heard.

62. Barcelona - Absolutes (2008)

This Seattle indie rock outfit is anchored by pianist and singer Brian Fennell (now of SYML fame). I had never heard of Barcelona prior to this album, and it took me by surprise. Fennell's vocals are captivating, winding through catchy pop melodies while deftly maneuvering from delicate to powerful. They pair with the band's guitar- and piano-driven arrangements to cement Absolutes among the best in the genre. There is a 2007 independent version of this album which is preferred by many who heard it before it was remastered and rereleased with an expanded tracklist in 2008. While I understand being attached to the version of the album you first fell in love with, I just can't agree with the opinion that the album is better without the standout tracks "Come Back When You Can," "Colors," and "The Takers."

61. Kill Hannah - Until There's Nothing Left of Us (2006)

Kill Hannah played anthemic goth-pop that belied their violent-sounding name. Until There's Nothing Left of Us is a triumphant, stadium-ready pop rock record that had the synths, grooves, and hooks to take the radio by storm in the early 2000s. If this album came out two years earlier, Kill Hannah might have been a household name. How did "Lips Like Morphine" not enrapture a generation of high schoolers? This is one of the many albums on this list that had absolutely all of the ingredients, but it somehow didn't add up to musical stardom.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Doppelgänger

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man & Tom Holland

Rating: PG

Original Idea:  I know I mentioned before that I don’t write for the actors, really, but I read a really good fic over on fanfiction.net about the Marvel characters coming into our world (Universal Headaches by Talk With Your Hands) so I gave it a quick try.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Gee, what is with me and these slightly-longer-than-my-slightly-longer-than-usual fics recently? I mean, I’m not complaining, and I hope y’all aren’t either, but this is, like, the third one! Harper is not my last name so don’t look for a Cass Harper on other social media. If you find one, it’s not me.

^^^^^

WHAM!

Groaning in pain, I picked myself up off the ground where I'd landed, coughing dust out of my lungs. On all fours, I looked to my side to see curly brown hair emerging from the dust, also pushing up onto all fours. “You okay?” I asked, voice raspy from the dust and the fall and the pain.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, also raspy. He sounded a little shaken. “You?”

I glanced at the bruises that would soon form on my arms from impact. “More or less.”

“Who are you?!” a new voice exclaimed with a British accent. The voice was… familiar somehow. “And what are you doing here?!”

Peter and I glanced at each other before I turned my gaze to see the owner of the voice while Peter favored coughing.

I almost fell back to the floor in shock.

The young man looked just like Peter. Same curly-ish hair, same brown eyes, same face. The only thing different was the fashion sense. Whoever this guy was, he wore skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with a necklace that had a long silver chain and a charm I couldn’t quite see because of my angle—pretty different from Peter’s science pun T-shirts, checked button-ups over them, and normal jeans with the hems turned up since they were too long. This doppelgänger looked startled to say the least.

“Who are you?!” I retorted in surprise.

Not-Peter scrunched his eyebrows. “I'm… Tom. Tom Holland,” he answered.

I got to my feet slowly, wincing, and introduced myself, sticking my hand out. Not-Peter—Tom—shook it.

And then Peter looked up. “What the f—?!” He cut himself off as he fell backwards onto his back.

This Tom guy looked down and realized what he was seeing. He blinked a couple times. “Am I seeing things?” he demanded. “Why—why do we look the same?” He took a couple steps back, one hand behind him, feeling for the wall.

“Well why are you British?” I retorted.

The British young man in question grunted but didn’t say anything.

I helped Peter to his feet. “You just had to plug the stereo into the weird machine, didn’t you Peter?” I grumbled as I pulled him up.

“Wait,” the British Not-Peter protested. “Peter? As in Peter Parker?”

Peter and I froze before slowly looking at the doppelgänger. “How, how, how do y-you know my name?” Peter stammered, his hand lifting and finding my arm. He held onto it like an anchor—and for a moment I thought he might fall over again.

“I know your name because I'm an actor and you're a character I portray in a movie series,” Tom-Not-Peter replied. “You're not real.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Movie characters?” I asked no one in particular.

“Well…” Tom-Not-Peter trailed off. “Not you, sorry. Or, if you're going to be in the films, you haven't been cast yet.”

“These films… are they well-known?” Peter asked Tom.

“Well yes. They're something of a cultural phenomenon. There’s never really been an interconnected universe comprising of multiple different franchises that can crossover before. It was exciting but a bit of a shock to the system when I was cast. It’s a bit strange to be relatively unknown and then a household name overnight,” Tom explained. I looked—I mean, stared—between the two of them, amazed at how perfectly carbon-copied the two were of each other.

I ran my hands through my hair. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I muttered under my breath.

“You and me both,” Peter agreed.

“So… if you're actually Peter Parker,” Tom started, “I mean, y’know, Spider-Man, how did you end up… here?”

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” I wondered.

“London.”

My jaw dropped. “London?!” I clenched my jaw. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I rounded on Peter. “This is all your fault,” I accused him. “We weren’t even supposed to be in the workshop but you wanted to work on something and listen to music at the same time so you plugged it into that weird machine. And when it started pulsing with that weird bluish light did you unplug it? No. Instead you decide we should check it out! Now look where we are! We’re in an alternate dimension where you're a movie character!”

“Actually,” Tom put in. “He was a comic book character first. And one of the most recognizable superheroes in the world.”

I sighed dramatically. “Great. Even better,” I commented, voice bleeding and dripping sarcasm. “So how are we going to get home without drawing attention to ourselves? Because I imagine he—” I pointed backward at Tom-Not-Peter, while still glaring at Peter. “—probably has hordes of fangirls who are all over his every move so what do we do about you?”

“It’s not that mad,” Tom corrected. I ignored him.

“How are we even going to find a way to get home?” I carried on.

“Whoever you are in this universe,” Peter answered, finally cutting me off. “If you haven't been cast yet, and he doesn’t know who you are, that means your actress isn’t well-known. So if we can find her, maybe she can help us. It’d be safer to be around her than him.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Tom asked.

We both ignored him.

I shrugged. “I suppose. But if your actor is British and mine hasn’t been cast yet, or may not even exist, how will we know where to look? It’s not like we can sweep facial recognition over, like, four different countries!”

“Four?” Tom wondered. Peter grunted in agreement with the question.

“America, Britain, Canada, and Australia,” I replied. “Those seem the most likely. I'm American, born and raised, but you ain’t even though Peter is, so that makes things significantly more complicated for me.” I rubbed at something warm on my lip—dried blood. I must have split it open when I fell. I grimaced in irritation. Of course I was bleeding.

“Well it’s not like we can use facial recognition,” Peter observed sarcastically. I raised my eyebrows suggestively. “No. No. No, no, no, no, no. We are not hacking into something to use facial recognition!”

“Well how else do you suggest finding the version of me of this universe? This isn’t like the time Tony told us to literally find that needle in the haystack and we lit the hay on fire!” I exclaimed.

Tom gave me and Peter a really confused look. “You lit a haystack on fire?”

I ignored him. “C’mon, Peter, it’s not gonna be hard. We just need an internet connection to connect to a database and search facial recognition. We photograph my face and search for it,” I pressed to my friend. Peter furrowed his brows in thought and heaved a sigh, refusing to meet my eyes for several moments while he thought.

“Fine. Let’s go find somewhere with internet.”

“All due respect, strangers,” Tom interrupted loudly. “It’s past midnight. You should get some sleep first. You're welcome here tonight but in the morning I want you gone. But, y’know, carefully. Because he has my face.” He nodded at Peter.

“Okay,” I replied. “Thank you, Mr. Holland.”

“No, please. Don’t call me that. Tom is fine. Mr. Holland is way too formal.”

“Very well. Thank you, Tom. We’ll be gone in the morning.”

He gave us a single nod and retreated down a hallway.

“I’ll take the floor,” Peter muttered. “You take the couch.”

“I can—”

“No. Don’t bother.” He sat down on the ground, cleared away the dust from our landing, and wrapped up in his jacket. I eased onto the couch, wrapped my jacket around my body, and burrowed down to sleep.

^^^^^

“Wow. It’s like looking in a mirror,” I muttered, peering across the university campus at the girl who looked just like me. Peter had his head down enough that no one would notice him or look twice, wearing a ball cap with the brim pulled low. “I thought you and the Holland-guy was weird but I'm looking at a girl who’s me. Wow.” Peter grunted but didn’t say anything.

I nudged him in the arm.

“C’mon,” I whispered. “Let’s go talk to her.”

“Let me go first,” Peter replied, edging around me and trotting down the hall. I followed him. “Excuse me?” he called. “Miss Harper?”

The girl who would one day be me on screen—maybe—looked up from her laptop. “Yeah?” Her face went slack. “Oh my gosh—has anyone ever told you that you look just like Tom Holland?” she asked in an awed tone.

“Yeah. All the time. Listen, my name is Peter Parker—you might know me as a comic book or movie character, but we’re real. And we’re in the wrong universe. We need your help to get back to ours.”

My doppelgänger tilted her head. “Who’s we?” she inquired curiously.

I came out from behind Peter. “Me and him,” I answered.

Miss Harper stared. “Oh. Well. Okay.” She opened and closed her mouth a couple times like a fish before regaining her composure. “So… what do you want me to do? I'm not a scientist. I'm studying to be an actor.”

“We mostly need your lack of fame to keep us hidden from the world,” Peter put in. “The actor who plays me has become high-profile because he plays me. But if, one day, you're cast as her—” He pointed at me. “—you haven't reached that level yet. So we need your help to find a way to get us home. Any research you can give us on anything like a Dimensional Cannon—or something.”

“A Dimension Cannon? Like in Doctor Who?”

“Yeah.”

Miss Harper bit some skin off her lower lip and looked down at her laptop. “Well, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but I am something of a Google master. Let me look.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay. Forty-five minutes till my next class. That should be enough time.” As she typed, her eyes looked up to me. “If anyone asks, say you're my twin. No one here really knows me so it won’t be too difficult for them to believe.”

“Thank you,” I offered. She nodded and returned her focus to her screen and her keyboard.

Peter and I sat down on the chairs next to her. Peter kept his head low, muttering something about ridiculous that I didn’t quite catch. Probably thinking it was ridiculous that he had to hide his face.

I had to say I agreed, but we couldn’t afford attention.

My doppelgänger slammed her hands down on the arms of her chair. “Shoot. I can’t find anything. Sorry guys, the technology doesn’t exist in this world yet.” She looked apologetic. I pursed my lips thoughtfully.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

“Well, after my day is over, you can come back to my apartment with me.”

“Thank you,” I repeated. She nodded. I looked over at Peter. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “I'm just trying to figure out if we could make a Dimension Cannon ourselves.”

I raised my eyebrows. My double didn’t notice, she was still peering at her screen curiously. “How?” I whispered to Peter as some guys walked past in basketball jerseys, loudly joking around with each other.

He gave me a smirk. “I have an idea. You're not going to like it, but I have an idea.”

[shit-talk-turner]

I think it's also possible that behind the scenes he might have a better sense of himself, and that this is for the benefit of the public eye. like, maybe he's playing all of us. who knows? what are everyone else's thoughts?// I think part of it is almost like he holds resentment that people who he has never met, think that they know him & think that they have any say or investment in his life, whatsoever (I do see the irony here). I think it really messes with his psyche- or he is playing us, as a "fuck you," I would believe both. I might be totally off, because his level of general fame is really unbelievably lower than it should be for their success. At least here in the states, he is still not a household name, & except for like NY & LA, I'm sure he can easily go unrecognized by nearly everyone. I do wonder if he or his circle tracks online things that are said about him. It feels like he kind of acts out & doesn't get his shit together because it's his life & he'll do what he wants. Like, he's still killing it professionally, so everyone should leave him alone, maybe? I don't know if I'm explaining this well & no, he isn't acting out in incredibly self-destructive ways, or anything, but even in his minimal public expressions, the boy (man) seems discontent. But, maybe we just don't know. 🤷‍♀️

Even in NY and L.A., he’s spent plenty of time in both places and proven that he’s rarely noticed or bothered in public outside of the U.K. (Even if there - did he really not leave his house in London all of 2020?) Remember that when we got that photo from L.A. in late October that had been taken at a show in early October and none of us even knew that he had been in L.A? He was at a concert, in public with tons of other people, and surely that’s not the only time he left his house in however long he was there. Same for Paris — one person spotted him in however long he was there but surely they were out doing something, eating, shopping, whatever and no one else noticed or gave a fuck.