#But turns out elliot page suggested the music himself

[thereadingmoon]

just finished my first palahniuk novel and i find myself unsurprised that the book he wrote about a 13-year-old girl pulling a carrie in hell is mid on goodreads

[kammartinez]

By Gina Chua

There’s a scene in the third season of Netflix’s hugely popular “The Umbrella Academy” where Elliot Page’s character, sporting a new, short haircut, walks up to the other members of the titular superhero team to suggest a plan.

There’s a derisive response from one of them: “Who elected you, Vanya?”

Page glances around, slightly tentative. “It’s, uh, Viktor.”

“Who’s Viktor?”

The subtitles describe “dramatic music playing” as members of the group eye one another. Page hesitates for a second. “I am. It’s who I’ve always been.” Another beat. “Uh, is that an issue for anyone?”

There’s little hesitation: “Nah, I’m good with it.” “Yeah, me too.” “Cool.”

And thus plays out what might be the most mundane — and yet quietly empowering — depiction of gender transition in popular culture I’ve ever seen. Were Page’s real-life journey to transition only as simple, straightforward or well received.

Instead, as he details in a brutally honest memoir, “Pageboy,” his life story was marked by fear, self-doubt, U-turns, guilt and shame, before he ultimately seized control of his own narrative.

A child actor from Canada who burst onto the scene at the age of 20 with a breakout performance in the title role of “Juno” in 2007, Page went on to take roles in films that ranged from indie (“Whip It,” “Freeheld”) to blockbusters (“Inception,” “X-Men: Days of Future Past”).

But fame didn’t free him to explore his identity; instead it trapped him into a role studios wanted him to play, offscreen as well as on, as an attractive young starlet.

Much of the memoir — told in non-sequential flashbacks and flash-forwards — centers on Page’s path to understand who he really was, against a backdrop of bullying, eating disorders, stalking, sexual harassment and assault. Page grew up in Nova Scotia, the child of divorced parents — a less than loving father and a mother hoping against hope for a more conventional child than the gender outlaw she seemed to be raising.

“Can I be a boy?” Page asked his mother at the age of 6. He found escape in solitary play and a rich fantasy life that ultimately blossomed into a career as an actor.

The nonlinear structure makes following a clear narrative difficult, but that’s less important than seeing, through his eyes, how Page slowly pieces together a clear sense of himself. In that, it follows a tradition of trans memoirs, from Jennifer Finney Boylan’s “She’s Not There” to Janet Mock’s “Redefining Realness” to Thomas Page McBee’s “Man Alive,” among others, that explore how we explore our identities.

From furtive, closeted relationships — he relates how he held hands under a blanket with his then-partner as they were bused from location to location while working on a film together — to coming out as gay in 2014 (“more a necessity than a decision,” he writes), Page flirted with, but backed away several times from, the notion that he might be trans.

“My shoulders opened, my heart was bare, I could be in the world in ways that felt impossible before,” he writes of coming out as gay. “But deep down an emptiness lurked. That undertone. Its whisper still ripe and in my ear.”

It’s in that tortured, contradictory internal monologue — familiar to other trans people as we contemplate what seems to be an extraordinary, unimaginable truth — that “Pageboy” is most powerful. Page doesn’t really delve into questions of masculinity, or what it means to be a man, but he brings to life the visceral sense of gender dysphoria, or at least one type of dysphoria: the sense that your body is betraying you. It’s an utterly alien sensation for those who haven’t experienced it:

Imagine the most uncomfortable, mortifying thing you could wear. You squirm in your skin. It’s tight, you want to peel it from your body, tear it off, but you can’t. Day in and day out. And if people are to learn what is underneath, who you are without all that pain, the shame would come flooding out, too much to hold. The voice was right, you deserve the humiliation. You are an abomination. You are too emotional. You are not real.

Moments of joy pierce “Pageboy” as well: his first real queer kiss; scenes of passionate sex; the blossoming of his relationship with his mother after he came out; the reflection of his flat chest in the mirror.

Page disclosed his transition in December 2020, a few weeks before I did the same. I suspect he, like me, had been prepared for a future where trans lives would be broadly accepted, or at least tolerated, albeit with sporadic incidents of hate. Both of us inhabit left-leaning spaces (media, movies) where the appearance of support is de rigueur.

How could we have expected instead the tidal wave of anti-trans animus that is surging across the right, with hundreds of bills proposed — and some passed — in state legislatures that would in some cases bar adults from accessing trans care; undermine private insurance; allow medical personnel to discriminate against transgender patients; and restrict performances by drag performers and trans people, including possibly Page.

Trans men and women are attacked in very different ways. Trans women are demonized as sexual predators; trans men, when people think of them at all, are portrayed as misguided and misled girls and women, confused and unable to understand their own identity. “When I came out in 2014, the vast majority of people believed me, they did not ask for proof,” Page writes. “But the hate and backlash I received were nothing compared to now.”

It was an unwelcome regression to a time studios controlled his public persona: “I am sick of the creepy focus on my body and compulsion to infantilize (which I have always experienced, but nothing like this). And it isn’t just people online, or on the street, or strangers at a party, but good acquaintances and friends.”

Still, Page has no shortage of fans as well, vociferous defenders of possibly the most famous trans man in the world, and one whose onscreen portrayal of a superhero offers an alternative conception of masculinity rooted in inner strength and sensitivity rather than brawn and muscles.

His character’s arc from Vanya to Viktor offers hope, too, of a world where transition is matter-of-fact, accepted — and incidental. “Truly happy for you, Viktor,” another “Umbrella Academy” member concludes.

Page and the showrunner Steven Blackman were at pains to ensure his character’s journey reflected the nuances of real trans lives, not least that being trans was a character trait, not the defining one. They brought in McBee to weave an authentic narrative into what was then an already tightly packed and carefully scripted season.

In the memoir, Page reflects on his complex relationship with store windows, and his image in them — a reminder, pre-transition, of a body and identity he saw but did not want to inhabit. McBee crafted that memory into another telling “Umbrella Academy” scene, where Page’s Viktor pauses in front of a storefront and is asked what he sees.

“Me.” A smile and a shrug. “Just me.”

Truly happy for you, Elliot.

[kamreadsandrecs]

By Gina Chua

There’s a scene in the third season of Netflix’s hugely popular “The Umbrella Academy” where Elliot Page’s character, sporting a new, short haircut, walks up to the other members of the titular superhero team to suggest a plan.

There’s a derisive response from one of them: “Who elected you, Vanya?”

Page glances around, slightly tentative. “It’s, uh, Viktor.”

“Who’s Viktor?”

The subtitles describe “dramatic music playing” as members of the group eye one another. Page hesitates for a second. “I am. It’s who I’ve always been.” Another beat. “Uh, is that an issue for anyone?”

There’s little hesitation: “Nah, I’m good with it.” “Yeah, me too.” “Cool.”

And thus plays out what might be the most mundane — and yet quietly empowering — depiction of gender transition in popular culture I’ve ever seen. Were Page’s real-life journey to transition only as simple, straightforward or well received.

Instead, as he details in a brutally honest memoir, “Pageboy,” his life story was marked by fear, self-doubt, U-turns, guilt and shame, before he ultimately seized control of his own narrative.

A child actor from Canada who burst onto the scene at the age of 20 with a breakout performance in the title role of “Juno” in 2007, Page went on to take roles in films that ranged from indie (“Whip It,” “Freeheld”) to blockbusters (“Inception,” “X-Men: Days of Future Past”).

But fame didn’t free him to explore his identity; instead it trapped him into a role studios wanted him to play, offscreen as well as on, as an attractive young starlet.

Much of the memoir — told in non-sequential flashbacks and flash-forwards — centers on Page’s path to understand who he really was, against a backdrop of bullying, eating disorders, stalking, sexual harassment and assault. Page grew up in Nova Scotia, the child of divorced parents — a less than loving father and a mother hoping against hope for a more conventional child than the gender outlaw she seemed to be raising.

“Can I be a boy?” Page asked his mother at the age of 6. He found escape in solitary play and a rich fantasy life that ultimately blossomed into a career as an actor.

The nonlinear structure makes following a clear narrative difficult, but that’s less important than seeing, through his eyes, how Page slowly pieces together a clear sense of himself. In that, it follows a tradition of trans memoirs, from Jennifer Finney Boylan’s “She’s Not There” to Janet Mock’s “Redefining Realness” to Thomas Page McBee’s “Man Alive,” among others, that explore how we explore our identities.

From furtive, closeted relationships — he relates how he held hands under a blanket with his then-partner as they were bused from location to location while working on a film together — to coming out as gay in 2014 (“more a necessity than a decision,” he writes), Page flirted with, but backed away several times from, the notion that he might be trans.

“My shoulders opened, my heart was bare, I could be in the world in ways that felt impossible before,” he writes of coming out as gay. “But deep down an emptiness lurked. That undertone. Its whisper still ripe and in my ear.”

It’s in that tortured, contradictory internal monologue — familiar to other trans people as we contemplate what seems to be an extraordinary, unimaginable truth — that “Pageboy” is most powerful. Page doesn’t really delve into questions of masculinity, or what it means to be a man, but he brings to life the visceral sense of gender dysphoria, or at least one type of dysphoria: the sense that your body is betraying you. It’s an utterly alien sensation for those who haven’t experienced it:

Moments of joy pierce “Pageboy” as well: his first real queer kiss; scenes of passionate sex; the blossoming of his relationship with his mother after he came out; the reflection of his flat chest in the mirror.

Page disclosed his transition in December 2020, a few weeks before I did the same. I suspect he, like me, had been prepared for a future where trans lives would be broadly accepted, or at least tolerated, albeit with sporadic incidents of hate. Both of us inhabit left-leaning spaces (media, movies) where the appearance of support is de rigueur.

How could we have expected instead the tidal wave of anti-trans animus that is surging across the right, with hundreds of bills proposed — and some passed — in state legislatures that would in some cases bar adults from accessing trans care; undermine private insurance; allow medical personnel to discriminate against transgender patients; and restrict performances by drag performers and trans people, including possibly Page.

Trans men and women are attacked in very different ways. Trans women are demonized as sexual predators; trans men, when people think of them at all, are portrayed as misguided and misled girls and women, confused and unable to understand their own identity. “When I came out in 2014, the vast majority of people believed me, they did not ask for proof,” Page writes. “But the hate and backlash I received were nothing compared to now.”

It was an unwelcome regression to a time studios controlled his public persona: “I am sick of the creepy focus on my body and compulsion to infantilize (which I have always experienced, but nothing like this). And it isn’t just people online, or on the street, or strangers at a party, but good acquaintances and friends.”

Still, Page has no shortage of fans as well, vociferous defenders of possibly the most famous trans man in the world, and one whose onscreen portrayal of a superhero offers an alternative conception of masculinity rooted in inner strength and sensitivity rather than brawn and muscles.

His character’s arc from Vanya to Viktor offers hope, too, of a world where transition is matter-of-fact, accepted — and incidental. “Truly happy for you, Viktor,” another “Umbrella Academy” member concludes.

Page and the showrunner Steven Blackman were at pains to ensure his character’s journey reflected the nuances of real trans lives, not least that being trans was a character trait, not the defining one. They brought in McBee to weave an authentic narrative into what was then an already tightly packed and carefully scripted season.

In the memoir, Page reflects on his complex relationship with store windows, and his image in them — a reminder, pre-transition, of a body and identity he saw but did not want to inhabit. McBee crafted that memory into another telling “Umbrella Academy” scene, where Page’s Viktor pauses in front of a storefront and is asked what he sees.

“Me.” A smile and a shrug. “Just me.”

Truly happy for you, Elliot.

[sdv-mostly-shane]

Waves of Silk and Honey

Summary: Shane is interrupted from his normal bout self wallowing by a certain long-haired writer. He finds himself relaxing at every word that comes out of his mouth, and finds himself a little something more. Some slight suggestive content.

♡ this one goes out to a very special request- I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your ask. This was such a fun writing stretch for me, as I never thought to put these two together ♡

***very very *slight* spoiler for 1.5*** please keep scrolling if you want to go in completely blind.

Shane didn’t even know why he let himself get dragged to this new beach everyone was talking about. When the town was blabbing about a ‘resort’ that the farmer had built on an island they found, this was not what he expected.

It was cute, alright, but he hated the sun beating on his neck, he hated the way his shirt clung to his belly, and he hated that everyone was having fun, except for him. Shane watched Abby, Sebastian, and Sam at the waters edge, as he made his way to the closest shade, and sat down. As he drew his legs up to his chest and pushed his back harder against the cliff wall, he let himself sink into the dull greyness of his feelings, and he closed his eyes.

...

“Do you mind if I sit here? Its the best shaded area, and the close sea breeze helps clear my mind as I write. Would you be so kind?”

Shane’s eyes shot open at the sudden waking, but the soft, melodious voice soothed over his surprise. He looked up to see Elliot, pen and notebook in hand, and a gentle smile on his face.

“Mmph. Go ahead.” Shane really didn’t care either way, as long as he didn’t have to talk to him, but he did briefly think that he at least wouldn’t look so pathetically sad with someone sitting next to him.

“Oh, thank you,” Elliot sighed as he sat down, “what sweet relief to be in the shade. The sun is angry today... My skin is a bit too delicate, I'm afraid.” He turned to Shane with an embarrassed half smile.

Shane didn’t have to force out a reply, as Elliot immediately crossed his legs, opened his notebook, and started to write something down. If this is all he wanted to do, then maybe he could just close his eyes again ...

...

He drowsily peeked his eyes open sometime later to see Elliot looking at him, head resting in his palm. He normally would get embarrassed at this direct attention (as it was usually scorn or pity from the other villagers), but Elliots eyes were neither. Just clear, emotionless study.

“You must like being alone. The silence of solitude is something I searched for for many years before I moved here to The Valley-I need it for my writing, you see..... the sweet friction of pen and paper is the music of my soul. That's why I chose the beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work.... it doesn’t always work, however, so I thought maybe the change of scenery would help release this little block of mine that has plagued me all week.”

“So you went from one beach to another beach just to see the same thing?”

“It’s a little silly, isn’t it. You’re right, of course. No matter where we are, when we look outwards into the water, we are seeing the same rolling tides of the same sea. No matter which shore you are on, you are watching one ocean. It’s magic, in that way.” Elliot earnestly turned toward Shane, who’s eyes were already on him- “Breathe deeply,” Shane couldn’t stop himself-he filled his lungs with the salted air before he had even finished his sentence, “Do you notice it? That's the smell of the sea. Whenever I smell the sea, it reminds me of my youth. The ocean really impressed me as a child.”

Shane didn’t know how to answer him-which was probably better than his normal ‘f-off’ reply, to be honest-and instead just looked at the man. He had seen him occasionally at the saloon through the haze of amber on his tongue, remembering him sitting with one of the red headed girls, dressed in a coattail and tie, of all things. The very nature of posh, education, and sophistication poured out of him as languidly as the honey hued locks of hair flowed over his shoulders. Here, he could clearly see him, and met his eyes-he felt soothed, and remained quiet for a moment longer.

“Hmm... thank you, Shane.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

Shane, puzzled, furrowed his brows in response to the mans gentle smile. He turned his gaze to the ocean and ventured another deep breath of the crisp air. He watched the waves pull in and out, in and out, in.. and out...

...

“Shane, I truly appreciate your kindness to me. You’re one of the few people who have sincerely listened to my musings without brushing me off. I know that I am kind of an 'oddball'. I hope you don't mind.”

Shane couldn’t help but let out a small laugh-“hah, that’s usually what people say about me.”

Shane glanced over quick enough to catch the mans gentle face transform into defined angles and squinted eyes as his grin grew into a beaming smile. “We’re not all that different, are we. Just as the ocean-different sanded beaches, but the same sea... that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile, Shane. I do hope you’ll bless me with its presence again soon.”

Shane didn’t feel embarrassed by his forwardness, a welcome change from the shallow small talk of the rest of the townsfolk. He enjoyed letting the mans richly colored words replace his own grey thoughts. There was no judgement in his tone, only warmth-Shane felt more at ease from his voice alone than he ever did from the ‘relaxing’ ocean in front of him.

Shane finally responded, “You like talking to me? I guess I believe you... maybe you’re just as weird as I am.” Shane turned his head fully to smile at him, and was caught off guard by the sudden blush on the mans cheeks; he raised an eyebrow and a smirk as the man quickly turned his head toward his page, suddenly interested in his writing again.

Shane was amused watching the pink flush travel up the mans cheekbones, up to the tip of his ears. He found his eyes trailing over his jaw, down his neck, and onto his bare shoulders. Gone was the stuffy jacket, and Shane could see his actual body shape for the first time. His shoulders were quite broad and surprisingly bulky, for someone who Shane thought was a bit frilly. He caught Elliot’s eyes peeking past his veil of hair, and Shane laughed to himself as he watched the mans eyes dart back to the page in front of him, his blush blooming further into a deep red. Was he... flustered?

Shane grinned to himself, bemused. Why would a man so effortless and, you know, actually beautiful, be so nervous of *him*? He half turned his attention back to the waves, not wanting to full on ogle the guy. The waves were dropping further into the shore, and Shane watched as the bubbles of the wet sand fizzled and popped.

“I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness. I hope we can grow closer, Shane. I enjoy your company.” He gestured to his notebook with his feathered pen, “plus, your nearness has seemed to open up my mind to some new inspiration. In fact-before I lose this-“ he brought his book close to his chest, and resumed fervently writing.

Shane remained silent, watching the dancing of the wisps of duck feather dance in the sea breeze as the man wrote. He wondered what it must be like to know that you were smart and to know your purpose in the world. He turned his attention back to the sand, where little creatures were popping in and out, his eyes only returning to the man when he noticed two sturdy arms lift above his head, gathering the honey silks of hair into a messy knot atop his head. Shane could hardly stop himself from peeking over his shoulder to the flexing of the mans back-that too, much more bulky and defined than expected. He did sometimes see him fishing, while on his daily walk from Joja, which would explain the tight muscles stretching and contracting across his skin. Shane forced himself to turn his attention back to the little crabs that were scurrying and dodging the tide.

Elliot looked up with a small gasp, and pushed himself off the ground. He made his way a bit up to the shoreline, crouched down, and gingerly reached into his shorts pocket, pulling out a tiny speck of red. He turned toward Shane with a little wave, gesturing to him with the baby crab- “I thought he would like to see the new beach as well.”

Shane, witnessing the most precious display of his life in front of him, had his own turn to blush, now, thinking about how much more he wanted to get to know this burly, poetry-writing, beautiful man with a tiny crab in his pocket. For now, he just returned the mans wave with a smile, and let himself sink into the vibrant reds, pinks, and honey-hued golds that were floating around in his thoughts, as he closed his eyes.

[poptod]

hi i wanted to know if you wrote for webb porter? if u do, can u do a webb x reader where the reader is his psychiatrist? not fluff but not angst either. something in between perhaps. surprise me with the plot! you always do anyways. thanks and i love your little elliot drawings!

notes: okay 1. thank u im glad u enjoyed the sketches, 2. i hadn't watched alcatraz before but i just watched it so i could write him and I gotta say, it really freaked me out how many similarities there were between me and him (except for the whole being a murderer thing and stringing bows with the hair of his victims). this is my first time writing psychopath characters. anyway, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

WC: 1.7k

+

It was a bit of an honor, really – none of your friends would agree with you, but working with something so strange, so new, and so, so interesting was always an honor. It wasn't like your friends said anything. Probably because they didn't know, since the Incident was 'top secret'.

The prison, in all its steep, sharp majesty, stood before you. Its height nearly blocked out the grey sky. The men leading you said nothing, and you followed when they opened the door inside. From outside one of the doors you saw the cells, all stuck together, kept in a sterile, white room. You swallowed thick and turned back forward, hand clenching around your bag as you mentally prepared yourself.

You didn't say much. Neither did he, so for the first five or six minutes, you watched him. His behaviorisms, the tics stuck in his restless limbs. Pushing against the floor, flexing fingers, uneven, hurried blinking. Classic signs of discomfort. You couldn't blame him.

"I've read a lot about you," you said in a soft, humming voice that had his eyes flickering to you before landing on the closed notebook in your hands. "I know what they think of you. Do you want to clarify anything?"

He said nothing, returning to his fidgets.

"I also heard you enjoy music," you continued, pushing your hand into the bag sitting on the floor beside you. He watched with curious eyes as you pulled out padded headphones, setting them on the table beside you, before pulling out an older iPod. "I know you've got your violin, but sometimes I find it's nice to listen without having to play. Lets me study."

"How does it work?" He asked, his voice cracked and soft. It was hard to make him out.

"Bluetooth. Connects without a wire," you answered with a half-smile, proceeding to explain the rest of the technology. The guards wouldn't just let you waltz in and give a prisoner a wire, after all, and the extra cost didn't hurt you too terribly.

He didn't really start talking till around the third appointment, which for a patient of his type wasn't all that bad. Even then he kept that soft tone – so low, so smooth, almost like the music he so avidly listened to. You could feel your fingers tightening over your arm rest when he spoke.

"I just wanted to play for people," he mumbled, pinching at the skin of his jaw. "Do you know what that's like?"

"Yes, actually," you said, earning the mild, held-back interest of the prisoner. He stared at you, and with a deep breath, you explained yourself. "I wanted to dance for people. Then I was diagnosed with Meniere's disease, and now it's a struggle to stand. I know what it's like to want something and never be able reach it."

He stared at you with wide eyes. You were starting to get accustomed to the sight of that.

"I also know it's good to start something you can do. Something achievable that can benefit yourself, maybe some friends, maybe groups of people. Some find that comfort in writing, or baking. Things like that," you said, knowing full well he wouldn't take your advice. Still, it was best to suggest something anyway.

The seventh week of sessions with him, appointments twice a week and each an hour or so long. That's how long he let you stay. If it were up to you or the warden, the sessions would be around an hour and a half, but if you tried to push it he would fall silent and listen to none of your words.

"I know this seems a rather foolish exercise," you said as you held out a drawing pad and a pencil, "but it does help some people. It doesn't have to help you, but I think you should give it a try. Just draw anything you want."

Hesitantly he took them from you, holding them in his lap as the eraser edge of the pencil tapped against his cheekbone. Folding your hands neatly on your own lap, you waited patiently for him to begin, a keen sense of curiosity keeping your attention. His head twitched to the side twice before he got sick of it, shaking his head to clear it out. Only then did he begin.

He kept the pad angled so you couldn't see his drawing. For about ten or so minutes he stuck to that activity, beginning to enjoy it about halfway through. When he leaned back, he examined the drawing, drawing a shaky breath as he handed the pad and pencil back to you.

Full body sketches, filled with lines and shadows that didn't quite connect. It looked as though he'd drawn it seven times and erased it six, but as the shapes came to fruition, you found the actual image he had drawn.

Himself in a suit. Nothing too grand, a plain one with one button on the blazer. You were more interested in the second figure beside him – a seated one sitting in front of a grand piano, their eyes closed and hands poised delicately over keys you couldn't see. At the other end of the piano was where Webb stood, his eyes closed as well as he danced to the music humming from his violin.

"You're a pianist, aren't you?" He asked, his voice still low and soft. You paused, looking up at him.

"Yes," you answered quietly. You hadn't ever told him that. "How did you know?"

"Fingers," he said. "You don't tap rhythms. You play them, and your fingers are stretched. You've been playing since you were a kid."

"Also correct," you said as you tried desperately not to give away your discomfort and amazement.

Two appointments later and he started to tell you about yourself. You reminded him gently that these sessions were for him, not you, but the words seemed to not have processed in his head. He just kept listing things about you – things you never told him, things not obvious about you, things your friends and family didn't even know.

"How long did you play bass for?" He asked one afternoon, his finger set against his lip.

"Orchestra in middle school through high school," you said despite not wanting to answer. "I was never any good at it, though."

"Too big?"

"... yeah. Mr. Porter, this isn't -"

"Where's your tattoo?"

You froze.

"I don't think it's appropriate for me to answer that question. How about you tell me about the people here? Do you get along with them?"

"They like my music," he murmured, his eyes directed at your own but staring through you.

"It's nice to have that," you said with a small nod.

Your home was a place of comfort with few windows and double locks on the doors. The only weak spot was the backyard, which was walled in. It'd be easy to break the glass of the wall into your living room, but you made the expense for 'unbreakable' glass, and in the evenings you felt thankful for that decision. You could sip at your tea without worry, turning on the TV and surfing through the many shows.

Despite being curled up for an evening of relaxation, your notebook sat beside you, open to the page of your most recent patient. A pencil sat in the dip of the binding. On commercial breaks you set aside your cup and picked up the notebook, flipping through the pages and trying to figure out exercises that would be good for each person. For Webb you made the special effort to think beyond your specialty. There were a number of things you wanted him to try – painting, stories, baking – just some senseless, harmless activities. Alongside that were a couple tests you could give him once he was ready.

"Even got your piano right," you heard a voice from behind the couch, making you shoot straight up and whirl around, the blanket around your shoulders falling forgotten on the floor. Webb stood in your open living room, his fingers tracing over your black grand piano seated in front of the wide open windows.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a surprisingly firm voice, broken only by your concentration to get your phone out from between the couch cushions.

"I needed to see you," he spoke softly, almost airy in his tone as he stared at you with empty, grey eyes. When you moved he took a step forward. "I know you're going to tell them," he said, looking you up and down, "but I can't let you do that."

You ran. The front door was so close to you anyway – you assumed you could reach it before he could reach you, but your legs were weak. You'd always been weak, and now he reached for you, grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you across the wood while you did your best not to cry. You did shout, though – hopefully your neighbors would hear, but halfway through your second scream he tore his sleeve, tying it around your mouth.

Writhing on the floor, you felt him push your chest down, swinging his legs so he straddled you. As you began to hyperventilate he pulled rope out – your rope – and tied your hands together.

"It's so easy," he breathed out, and you assumed he was talking to himself. You tried to speak, but with the gag, nothing came out but whines and moans. "You're so easy to... hurt," he murmured as he leaned in, his breath coasting against your cheek, highlighting the tears that fell unwillingly.

"You'll be good for me, right?" He asked of you, caressing your face with his hand, the other dug into your stomach's pressure point to keep you from moving.

You almost sobbed, but instead you tried to form words. Again, nothing but mumbles and cries came out.

"Shhh," he said in a soft, almost comforting voice. A shiver ran through your body, convulsing in your anxious muscles, trying to kick with the legs he sat on. "I won't hurt you," he murmured, leaning even closer to you, till his face rested in the crook of your neck, pressing gentle, fluttering kisses along your skin.

His hand reached from your cheek to your hair, tugging on it so harsh you let out a choked cry.

"We'll make beautiful music," he mumbled. "My violin, your piano, and you can sing... we'll be beautiful."

[stardancerluv]

Life and It’s Infinite Possibilities

Part 7

Summary: Oliver and reader make strides to stop being in hiding.

Arthur, gave a happy bark and getting up, he trotted out of his studio. Oliver, put his marker down, as he looked after Arthur. “Where are you going Arthur?”

He rounded a corner, he gave a yip and trotted back to Oliver. He sat down in front of him. Oliver, noticed there was something tucked into his collar.

“What do you have there?”

Oliver pushed back from his stool and knelt down in front of him. Opening, the envelope he took out an elaborate invitation to a costume party. That could be fun.

“Hey buddy.” Elliot, came in a few moments later.

“So you wanna go?”

Oliver, smiled. “I’ll certainly think about it.”

Elliot grinned, “Shauna and I are going, we were thinking of inviting, Y/N we thought it could be nice.”

“Yes, she should make some friends while she is out here.” Oliver suggested.

Elliot, narrowed his eyes and drew closer to Oliver. “That way if you want to flirt with her more you will have an entire party to do it. Maybe the two of you will hit it off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oliver tried to play innocent.

L

Elliot, leaned against his drawing table. “Oliver, I’ve seen the two of you. You two had something when we were in the coffee shop.”

“I’ll think about it alright?” He looked at his friend.

Elliot smiled. “Sure, think about it.”

Once Elliot was gone Oliver sent you a text.

His sweetness: Elliot invited me to a Halloween party. Shauna, the girl he is seeing may invite you or he may.

You: 😂 I was just typing to you! 😘 Let’s go!

His sweetness: 😘 Elliot suspects something. He said you and I could “flirt more” that he thought we “had something.”

You: We certainly do. 😌 I could try and flirt more with you. 😉

His Sweetness: ☺️ Please! Hey, I am going to work late. Stay late and we can then leave together.

You: What’s in it for me? 😂

His sweetness: Kisses 😘😘, and perhaps even handholding.

You: I might just sneak over now for a kiss.😘

His sweetness: I’m all alone, please do. 😘

He sighed moments later as he felt your arms wrap around his middle. Turning on his stool, it squeaked. “Hello there.”

“Hello.”

Oliver glanced around and soon, the two of you shared a soft, very sweet forbidden kiss. Sadly, it had to end almost as soon as it started. “See you later.” You whispered against his lips before fluttering off.

He felt really gutted. They really shouldn’t have to hide.

Elliot: Hey! Thought about it. I’ll go. She is awfully cute.

Him: 😆 I knew that would be the pull. I’ll tell Shauna.

Elliot: Am I that predictable?

Him: Only when you like someone.

Elliot: 🙄 ttyl.

Oliver went back to work, thankfully the rest of the day flew by. Hearing soft footfalls, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hi there. Just going to finish this and we can go.”

“No rush.” You smiled and after petting Arthur, you hopped up onto the table down from him.

He glanced at you from under his unruly hair. “After that kiss, it really sealed the deal. I am tired of hiding.”

You grimaced. “Me too. We shouldn’t have to.”

He nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.” He smiled at you.

He looked over the page and added a few things. He nodded at and was happy where he was with it. He put his marker down for the day. Getting up, he went over to you.

Gently, you let him get closer to you. “Would it be bad, if I just run over to you at the party and just start kissing you?”

He chuckled as he loosely draped his arms around you. “Maybe a little slower.”

“Alright, we’ll talk perhaps even giggle, have a drink even and let it flow. But,” You gave an innocent look. “eventually, let’s leave the party together, they can make up their own minds.”

He smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

You leaned forward and be drew close to you. Your lips met and another soft kiss was shared between the two of you.

*****

If Oliver was to be honest, he was a nervous wreck. The feelings the two of you shared were wonderful. He couldn’t be happier. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would all go over. He was certain that Elliot and Shauna didn’t care. But everyone else, he sighed as he put on his costume. Scratching the back of his head, he looked down at Arthur.

“Yes, you know I care about her.” He sighed.

“That is exactly why I’m worried.”

Putting on the glasses and fluffing the beard a finally time. He looked in the mirror one last time and scooping Arthur up, headed out.

*****

He truly, hoped that this would be ok. Anxious knots filled his stomach. To prepare and have things feel fresh the two of you, very reluctantly stayed away from each other for two long days.

Sure last night you both fell asleep looking at each other in your own respectively and badly lit bedrooms. He woke up to his face was smooshed into the screen of his tablet. He was grateful that he had not drooled in his sleep.

The place was vibrating with music, streamers hung from the wall and clusters of people clumped here and there. He recognized faces from his and Elliot’s firm to a few others in town.

He jumped slightly when Elliot appeared behind him, slapping him on the shoulder. “Great costume, Oliver.”

He smiled. “Thanks.” Arthur happily wagged his tail.

“Hi Arthur. Hope you enjoy your second, maybe third party.” Arthur wagged his tail harder.

Oliver, needed a drink. He felt like a fish out of water. Parties were never his scene. “I’m going to grab myself a drink.” He only went to unveiling parties because it was his job but this, he didn’t know.

Bending down he put down Arthur and grabbing a cup poured himself a drink. Nothing too strong since he really hoped that you and him wouldn’t be here too long.

“Oliver!” A high pitched voice rang out; filling the entire kitchen. He closed his eyes and sighed before he turned towards it.

“Hello Melissa, how are you?”

He had barely turned when she threw her arms around him and moments later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He repressed rolling his eyes.

“I am so good!” She practically squealed, leaning in she gave him a huge toothy grin. “I like the beard Oliver.”

He reached into his pocked to get his handkerchief, to wipe off the bright pink lipstick when he saw you over Melissa’s shoulder.

Your eyes met but you looked sad. You turned and walked away into another part of the house. His anxiousness spiked.

“It’s part of my costume Melissa.” He said simply as he wiped off the lipstick.

“Well, you look amazing.”

“Thank you, if you excuse me.” He began walking past her.

“Oliver? I thought you were getting a drink.”

He pressed his lips together. “I decided against it.” He gave her a brief smile. “Nice seeing you.”

He went looking for you, the music was getting louder when he reached the back of the house.

Looking around he hoped he’d spot you. His shoulders slumped as he mingled in and out of all the people dancing and did not spot you. He wasn’t going to dwell on the negative. You had to know how much he cared. You both had to pretend, you two well didn’t exist until this night.

He let his forehead lean against the cool glass of the sliding door. It kind of distracted and relaxed him at the same time.

“Is that you Oliver?” Your sweet voice filled his ears. Now he genuinely smiled as he turned to you.

“Oh, hello Y/N what are you doing here?”

“I was invited by a few in the firm. How are you?”

“Good, good. Well it is really great to see you.” He wasn’t any good at this.

“Same” You gestured to everyone dancing behind the two of you. “Wanna dance?”

“I’d love to.”

He had always been one to do silly and funky dances. So that is what he did. You chuckled and followed suit. “I like your costume.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. “Yours is nice too.”

He beamed. “Thank you.

Breathless, how much later it was but the two of you found a corner. “Sorry about that girl. She had asked me out a few months ago and I well,” Oliver looked at his feet. “Turned her down.”

You giggled. “I didn’t know I was dating such a ladies man.”

Oliver flushed and shrugged. “But I’m a one girl kind of guy.”

You smiled sweetly. “You had better be.” Another peel of giggles came from you.

“Do you think we’ve been here long enough?” He glanced around.

@fandomgirl800 @shantellorraine @rentskenobi @pooshnulooshnu @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24

[eddiesasspbrak]

When I’m With You Ch.1

Eddie can't stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won't let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he's not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

Read on AO3

Ch.2

6k+ words

“Please.” Ben begged, gripping his friend’s shoulders from behind as he followed him into the classroom.

“No.” Eddie slapped his hands away and sat in his preferred seat.

“But she’s so pretty and perfect and I want to go out with her.”

“Then you ask her out.”

“I can’t. What if she says no?”

“She can still say no if I ask her for you.” Eddie pointed out, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook and a pen.

“If she says no to you, I won’t die of embarrassment.” Ben plopped down into his seat beside Eddie, frowning.

Eddie rolled his eyes and opened his notebook to a fresh, clean page. Ben, one of his best friends, wanted to ask out a girl they met on campus. He fell in love with her at first sight and had been trying to work up the courage to ask her out for months. Every time he saw her, he turned into a babbling mess and lost his nerve. Eddie made the mistake of letting him know that she was in one of his classes and now he was determined to get Eddie’s help asking her out.

“What if I just invite her to hang out with us and conveniently get a call and leave you two alone?” Eddie suggested, taking pity on his sulking friend.

Ben perked up and thought that over. “That could work. Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“We have class today. I’ll ask her when I see her.”

Ben leaned over and placed his head on Eddie’s shoulder, a big grin on his face. His arms snaked around Eddie’s middle and he hugged him tight. Eddie sighed, but patted his arm and dropped his cheek to the top of Ben’s head.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” Ben said.

“You bet your ass you will.” Eddie responded.

They separated as the professor stood from the front desk and began speaking. Ben was positively beaming for the entire class and Eddie swore he saw him scribbling her name in his notebook instead of taking notes. Honestly, he was jealous of his friend. He’d finally come out when he’d come to college, except to his mom, and hadn’t had much luck in the relationship department. He did make out with an average looking guy at a party, but it hadn’t been great, and he spent the next two weeks ignoring his texts. Why he even gave the guy his number he’ll never know. Blame it on desperation and alcohol.

*

Eddie would forever kick himself for signing up for an early class this semester. Ben was always perky in the morning, up early to go for a jog before the sun was even up. Eddie, on the other hand, was not a morning person. If Ben didn’t call him, he would never get up in time for class. He was lucky to stay awake until the end of class. He said goodbye to Ben and immediately made his way across campus and into town where a little coffee shop waited.

Eddie had begun frequenting this shop after his early class for a caffeinated pick me up. It was close to the building his class was located in and by the time he got there the line wasn’t too awfully long. It gave Eddie plenty of time to drink his coffee and relax before he had to head off to his next class. There were big, squishy chairs all over the café that Eddie really liked. He’d almost fallen asleep in them countless times, but he couldn’t resist. Most of the other patrons were always on their way somewhere else so early in the morning so it was mostly empty and quiet too and the music was never played too loud over the speakers. It was Eddie’s favorite place and almost perfect.

As he entered the shop and joined the queue, he groaned inwardly at the person behind the counter. Yes, this place was almost perfect, except for the man who seemed to work this shift every day that Eddie had class. He was very friendly, smiled at every customer. More accurately, he was smiling at whatever stupid joke he’d just made about their order or their name. He had no filter and it annoyed Eddie endlessly. He was the definition of a man child. He recognized Eddie every time and already knew what he was going to order. A medium coffee, black.

Eddie dreaded having to interact with him again. It’s like he had an ongoing bet with himself, whether he could make Eddie laugh and piss him off first. It was usually the latter. The most annoying thing he did, in Eddie’s opinion, was the way he wrote his name on his cup. The very first time he’d simply made the mistake of spelling his name like ‘Eddy’. Whatever, that was fine. It didn’t bother him. Ever since then, though, it seemed like he tried to mess up his name in new and unusual ways. How does one misspell the name Edward? Some notable names he’d written down in the past were: Eugene, Edwin, Elliot, Eduardo, Emmett, Eli, and Eileen. However, when he would call out the name for the order he always said ‘Eddie’, so he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was infuriating.

Despite how annoying he was, he was also extremely efficient at his job combined with the guy making the drinks. The line moved quickly and there wasn’t a long wait for your drink to be delivered, even the complicated ones. Which meant that Eddie only had to stand at the counter for a short amount of time. As long as the cashier was willing to leave him alone. Which was extremely unlikely. When it was Eddie’s turn in line, he was met with a wide, crooked grin.

“Good morning, Eddie. It’s Thursday.” The man said.

“Yes. It is.” Eddie responded, hoping he wouldn’t continue. “I’ll have-.”

“Medium coffee. Black. Right?”

Eddie nodded, already holding the cash in his hand for the other to take. The guy punched a few buttons on the screen before looking back at Eddie, ignoring the money in his hand.

“You’re late today. I was beginning to wonder if you skipped class today.” He said, leaning his hip against the counter.

Eddie looked back to see there was no one in line behind him and he sighed. He’d made the mistake on his first trip to the coffee shop of telling this man that he had taken on an early Tuesday, Thursday class in passing. He regretted giving him any personal information about him as he absorbed it like a dry sponge.

“Class ran a little long. Here, my money.” Eddie held his hand a little higher, in his line of sight.

“I was sure you had stood me up for our weekly date.” He winked, still ignoring the money.

“I just come here to get coffee.”

“Oh, Eddie, we both know that it’s not the coffee that keeps you coming back here. You come here to ogle me while I make your coffee. It’s my wit and wiles that have you drawn to this little coffee shop twice a week.” He was very dramatic as he spoke, putting his hand to his forehead and leaning across the counter. “I’m beginning to think there is no morning class that has you making the trip here. You can deny it all you want, my dear but I know what your ulterior motives are.” He placed one finger beneath Eddie’s chin and tilted his head up a bit.

Eddie’s face turned bright red as he leaned away and swatted his hand away. This was typical and Eddie honestly couldn’t tell if he was supposed to be flirting with him or if he just liked the way Eddie reacted. For instance, at the moment Eddie was flustered and unable to keep his cool any longer.

“Can you please stop and just take my fucking money.” He grumbled, holding the money out again.

He grinned exceptionally wide and took the money, very slowly counting it out and putting it in the register. “There’s no need to use such language, my dear. I know you can’t stand to be around me for too long lest you leap over this counter and do indecent things.”

Eddie positively fumed as he waited for him to fiddle with the register as if he was getting change. He knew exactly how much he had to pay so he always had exact change. It was all just for show to keep him standing there that much longer. While he waited, trying to calm himself, he dropped two dollars in the tip jar, he may hate the guy, but he wasn’t an asshole. Unable to calm himself completely, he tapped his foot impatiently while waiting for his receipt. He really didn’t need it, but it was like a compulsion to keep every receipt he received. He finally handed over his receipt and turned to the other guy behind the counter.

“I’ll make this one, Mikey.”

The other guy, Mike, looked over to see Eddie before smiling and shaking his head. So, it wasn’t just in his imagination. Even his coworker could tell that this guy just enjoyed annoying Eddie as long as he possibly could.

Eddie carefully folded his receipt in half and tucked it in his pocket as he walked to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. He watched as the guy took a cup and scribbled something on it with marker. Eddie could already feel the annoyance for whatever name he was given today. The ever-present grin on his face didn’t help as he poured the coffee into the cup and put a lid and cardboard sleeve onto it.

“Coffee for Eddie.” He said, holding the cup high in the air, too high for Eddie to reach.

Eddie just stared up, refusing to jump to try and get the cup from him. He was too tired for this shit and he hoped the daggers he was mentally sending to the other showed on his face. He smiled down at him, and waited, expectantly.

“Can I just have my coffee?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, of course. I need a thank you first though.”

Eddie sighed loudly and a bit more dramatically than necessary to show how over this routine he was. “Thank you.” He grumbled.

“Thank you…what?” He asked.

“Thank you, Richie.” Eddie said through clenched teeth.

Finally, the cup was lowered to his hands and he snatched it away carefully, storming away from the counter and to the farther chair from the counter that was currently available. He looked down at the cup and just above the cardboard sleeve the name “Estiban” was written. Mike came to stand beside Richie, slapping a hand down on his shoulder.

“Why do you do that to him?” He asked with a smile.

“He’s cute. I like the faces he makes when he’s mad.” Richie shrugged.

“You know he hates you, right?”

“Nah. I’m going to marry that man one day.”

Mike laughed as the bell above the door chimed and they went back to their stations to wait for the next order. Richie could clearly see Eddie sitting in the large chair, sipping his coffee and looking like he might fall asleep. As he took the next customer’s order and entered it on the screen, he stole glances over at the tired boy. Richie couldn’t help smiling as he fought to keep his eyes open while taking another sip from his cup, his face scrunching up in disgust from the taste. It was like this every time, he hated the coffee, but he kept coming back and ordering it and drinking every last drop. Richie was smitten.

*

When Eddie arrived at his afternoon class, Bev was already there, her bag in the seat beside her to save it for him. As he approached, she moved her bag and smiled at him. She was annoyingly beautiful, and Eddie understood why Ben was so in love with her. If he liked girls, he’d probably be in love with her too. He greeted her and took his seat, immediately putting his head down on his arms, staring up at her sideways.

“I’m exhausted.” He said, followed by a yawn.

“Aren’t you always?”

“Yes.”

She grinned at him and pulled her phone from her pocket. She was really into fashion design and would often show him what pieces she was working on or had finished. She opened her camera roll and slid her phone across the table to him. He lifted his head and looked down at the pictures of a dress hung from a hanger, only one sleeve attached.

“I can’t decide if I like it with sleeves or not.” She explained. “The original sketch had sleeves, but then I really liked the way it was looking and once I attached one sleeve, I just wasn’t sure anymore.”

Eddie covered half the picture with his hand before switching and doing the same to the other side. He liked that she asked his opinion, especially seeing as she made fun of his fashion sense relentlessly. It showed that she trusted his opinion and he liked knowing that. He really enjoyed their friendship and silently hoped that if she dated Ben and they broke up, it wouldn’t somehow impact their relationship. He’d really hate to lose her.

“I like it without the sleeve.” He finally said after looking at each side several times.

“Right? Ok, it’s decided. Thanks.” She leaned over and put her arm around him in a half hug, kissing his cheek.

He rubbed at his cheek with his sleeve, knowing there was bound to be a red lipstick mark left behind. Now seemed like a good time to ask her to hang out and he honestly worried he’d forget if he didn’t ask her soon. He just had to be casual about it. “So, hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Mmmm, I was going to get drinks with a friend.” She said, taking her phone back and sliding it back into her pocket.

“Ben and I are doing the same. We should meet up, go together.”

“Yea, that sounds good.” She smiled brightly. “I could use a buffer anyway. My friend can be a bit…much.”

“Oh, joy. Please bring them.” Eddie was sarcastic and it made Bev snort out a laugh.

“He’s really not that bad. He just gets very mouthy when he drinks. More than usual anyway.”

“Well, luckily I’ll have a few drinks in me too.”

Eddie pulled his phone out and sent a quick text to Ben. ‘Talked to Bev. She’s down. Tomorrow night. Bringing a friend though.’ A second later Ben responded with a smiley face. Eddie already knew that Ben wouldn’t worry about the addition of a fourth person. He knew that Eddie would be able to distract the friend and he tried not to let that bother him. After all, it was mostly his idea to begin with so he couldn’t be too upset at the idea of being left with Bev’s friend.

*

There were few things Eddie enjoyed more than anything else. He enjoyed cleaning, organization, spending time with his friends. But the thing he enjoyed most was sitting in his quiet apartment, completely alone, enjoying the rest of his free afternoon. He’d picked up lunch on the way home and sat at his kitchen counter to eat it, scrolling through social media on his phone. After he cleaned up his lunch dishes, he moved to the living room to do some reading for class. This time of day on a Thursday most everyone was out so he couldn’t even hear his neighbors through the walls. It was utter bliss, until.

Eddie jolted when he heard the music and groaned dramatically as he flopped back on his couch. Every so often, one of his neighbors down the hall chose to listen to their music at an obnoxiously loud volume. And every time, Eddie silently hated them. It wasn’t even good music half the time, and even when it was, he didn’t want to hear it thumping through the walls and into his apartment. He stood and went to his bedroom, retrieving his earplugs from his bedside table.

He pressed them into his ears as he made his way back to the couch. They blocked out most of the noise, but he could steal hear it and feel the thump, thump, thump in his chest from the beat. There was no way he was going to finish his reading now or take a much needed nap. The buzz from the coffee he’d had a few hours earlier was long gone and he wasn’t willing to go back for another. One interaction with Richie a day was enough for him. He really ought to buy a coffee pot for his apartment. At least one of the little pod ones that made one cup at a time. He would save money and wouldn’t have to ever go to that coffee shop again. His life would be Richie free and he’d have coffee in class instead of after. He pulled out his phone to make a note to himself to price coffee machines when he saw he missed a text from Bev.

Bev: Hey, do you know what bar you’re going to yet?

Eddie: We haven’t really discussed it. Some place local, I guess. Maybe near campus

Bev: Have you heard of My Mom’s Bar? It’s down on Engle.

Eddie: I’ve heard of it, never been there though

Bev: It’s one of my favorites. Doesn’t get to crazy even on Fridays. You down?

Eddie: I’ll talk to Ben, but it should be fine

He switched from the conversation with Bev to the one with Ben and typed a quick message to him.

Eddie: Bev wants to go to My Mom’s Bar. Is that ok with you?

Ben: Your mom owns a bar?

Eddie: What? No. That’s the name of the place.

Ben: oooooh. Yea that’s fine. I’ll go anywhere as long as Bev is there.

Eddie: Even a gay bar?

Ben: As long as she doesn’t fall for another girl or a bi dude while we’re there. That could happen anywhere though

Eddie: True

He let Bev know that they were fine with her pick and they made arrangements to meet there around ten. He gave the information to Ben, planned to meet up at Eddie’s place beforehand. The idea of going out the following night and socializing was already so tiring. He liked spending time with his friends, but this wasn’t a regular social call. He’d have to interact with someone he didn’t know, orchestrate a plan and an excuse for him and the stranger to leave them alone. He really felt like he needed that nap now and silently cursed the inconsiderate neighbor with the clearly broken headphones.

*

Eddie spent most of his Friday at home alone, working on homework and finally finishing the reading he needed to do for class. If he was going to spend the evening in a crowded bar, interacting with strangers, then he wasn’t going to have a single second of human interaction the rest of the day. Eddie valued his alone time and he wasn’t going to feel bad about it.

It was now evening. He’d eaten a light dinner, knowing well that Ben would order bar food and how he was incapable of ignoring it when he’d been drinking. Still, he wasn’t willing to drink on an empty stomach. He prided himself on the fact that he had never once had a hangover or puked from drinking and he wasn’t about to start now.

Ben arrived at his door while he was still trying to decide if his outfit was fine for going out with friends. It was cold out, the winter months only half over, so he chose one of his favorite sweaters that was just slightly too big for him. He chose jeans, which he wouldn’t usually pair with this sweater, but he figured it was appropriate for a casual night out. Especially since he didn’t expect to be there too long. He and Ben had worked out a signal for when he was ready for Eddie to leave them. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long for him to work up the courage.

When Eddie opened the door a few minutes after buzzing him in through the downstairs door, Ben was bouncing on the balls of his feet with nervous energy. The smile on his face looked slightly panicked and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. Ben’s smile fell away and he immediately looked down at himself.

“Is it my outfit? Is it stupid?” Ben asked.

“Your outfit is fine. I was laughing at how crazy you look.” Eddie giggled, stepping aside for Ben to enter.

“I look crazy? Should I cancel? What if Bev thinks I’m crazy?”

“You just need to calm down. You’ve hung out with her before. She likes you.”

“Does she though?” He placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Is this all a big mistake?”

“Jesus…maybe you should do a shot or six before she gets to the bar.” Eddie shook Ben loose so he could go to the couch to slip his shoes on. “If you get too nervous then I’ll just stay. I won’t leave until you give me the signal.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Please chill.”

Eddie grabbed his jacket and his keys and double checked that he had his phone before ushering Ben back out the door and toward the elevator. Ben’s nerves didn’t settle on the way out to the waiting uber Eddie had ordered, and he babbled on and on about Bev to their poor driver. When they arrived at the bar, Eddie practically had to pull him from the backseat of the car and mentally made a note to give their driver a glowing review.

As they showed their IDs at the door, Eddie hoped that Ben’s nervousness wouldn’t be considered suspicious as neither one looked their age. Somehow, they got in without issue and Eddie did a scan of the place. It wasn’t huge. The floor plan was open, the bar against the wall to the left of the door and tabled scattered across the room. They didn’t see Bev yet and Eddie wasn’t sure if that was good for Ben’s nerves or absolutely terrible.

“Let’s get a table while there’s still some open.” Eddie said, grabbing Ben’s arm and steering him to a table near the wall.

They sat, Eddie’s back to the door and Ben across from him. Which maybe wasn’t the best seating arrangement as Ben’s eyes were fixed to the door. Part of Eddie knew that things would get easier when Beverly arrived. She had a way of breaking Ben out of his shell. Any idiot could see they were made for each other and, while Eddie really didn’t want to be there, he was happy to help them get one step closer to being together.

“Should we order drinks now? Or do we wait?” Ben asked, quickly glancing at Eddie before looking back to the door.

“We’re not losing our table. Just wait until they get here.” Eddie was already so tired.

“Should I offer to pay for her? What if…she…” Ben’s voice trailed off as a light flush flooded his cheeks with color.

Eddie was sure that meant Bev had arrived and he lightly kicked him under the table. “Be cool. You’re drooling.”

“Hey boys.” Bev said as she approached.

Ben stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as it was pushed back with the movement. Eddie winced at the sound and gave him a look that said, ‘what the fuck?’. He always did this, acting like he needed to stand as soon as she entered the room like some dude in a Jane Austen novel.

“Hello, Beverly. You look nice.” Ben said, the words tumbling from his mouth.

“Thank you, Benjamin.” She grinned. “Hey Eddie.” She patted him on the shoulder and moved to sit beside Ben.

Eddie looked over his shoulder and saw no fourth person coming to join them. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. He looked back to them in time to see Ben nearly miss his chair when he went to sit down. Luckily, Bev was looking down at her phone and didn’t notice. Eddie stifled the laugh that nearly broke free, trying to save his friend any embarrassment.

“I thought you were bringing a friend.” Eddie said, bringing Bev’s attention back to the table.

“I did. He’s outside talking to the dude checking IDs. When we were walking to the door, he pulled a fake mustache from his pocket and intentionally gave the guy a really shitty fake ID. It had a picture of some guy like twice our age, bald, with a mustache. I left him there while he tried to prove it was a joke and that his actual ID was real.” She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“What if he doesn’t make it in?” Ben asked.

“His loss. I told him to stop pulling shit like this.” She shrugged, before nodding toward the door. “There he is.”

Eddie turned to look, and his stomach dropped to the floor. He quickly turned back to the table and tried to make himself invisible. He’d been worried about having to hang out with this stranger, dreading what an awful night it would be. He just never considered how awful it truly could be. The last person he wanted to see had just strode into the bar, tucking a fake mustache back into his pocket.

“How’d you manage to convince him, Richie?” Bev asked, leaning back in her seat.

“I asked him if he really thought I’d be stupid enough to use a fake ID that looked that bad. He said yes but let me in anyway.” He responded, putting his hands on the back of the only empty seat beside Eddie.

“Idiot.” Bev laughed. “Well, introductions are necessary, I guess. This is Ben, and this is Eddie.”

Eddie gave up trying to make himself disappear when Bev said his name. He looked up into the glasses covered eyes of none other than Richie, the barista from the café. The man who made his Tuesday and Thursday coffee runs so detestable. The grin on his face was hard to ignore and Eddie wished he’d gotten a drink before they arrived.

“Holy shit, Eddie.” Richie said, finally sitting in the chair. “I’ve never seen you out in the wild like this.”

“You two know each other?” Bev asked, looking between the two.

“Eds here comes into the shop twice a week to grace me with his presence.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie said, leaning against the wall and hoping he could somehow fuse through it.

Richie, thankfully, turned to look at Ben instead. “So, this is Ben? He’s hot.”

Ben smiled as the color on his cheeks grew darker. “Oh, I, um…you…you too?” He said, visible flustered.

“Don’t embarrass him Richie.” Bev scolded with a smile. “As punishment, you will be fetching the first round.”

“Yes milady.” Richie said as he stood and swooped down into a dramatic bow.

“I can help carry drinks.” Ben chimed in, standing quickly.

Eddie hated himself. Hated that he cared so dearly for his friend and his desire to fall in love. Hated the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Stay. I’ll help.” He put his hand out to Ben, urging him to sit as he stood.

Richie seemed surprised as they walked side by side to the bar. Eddie tried not to look at him, really not wanting to interact with him. This was, of course, a good chance to let him know of the plan. Hopefully, Richie wasn’t interested in Beverly. If he was, he could potentially ruin the night for Ben and then he’d have to hate him even more than he did before.

“You’re not going to cheat on me, are you?” Richie asked, just as Eddie was about to open his mouth.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes at the other.

“Their menu says they offer coffee.” Richie pointed up at the chalkboard menu above the bar. “I know it will be hard to resist but drinking another man’s coffee does constitute cheating in my books.”

“Oh my God.” Eddie sighed. “I think I need something a little stronger if I’m going to survive a night out with you and your jokes.” He shot back.

Richie grinned and chuckled. “So, I should get you drunk to make you like me. Good to know.”

Eddie was going to say something along the lines of ‘no amount of alcohol will make me like you’ when the bartender came over to take their order. They opened a joint tab and ordered a round of beer, a light beer for Eddie. Each grabbed two bottles and carried them back to the table where Bev was telling Ben a story.

“So, he jumped from the roof of the fake building swinging the wooden sword down like it was a guitar he was going to smash and when it hit the stage it broke. The top part flew across the room and hit Jared in the arm. He stumbled back trying to get away from it and fell right off the stage and now he’s in a cast.” She was saying.

Eddie handed a beer to Ben and reclaimed his seat. “What are you talking about?” He asked.

“I was telling Ben the reason we aren’t allowed to use wooden swords in class anymore. They’re all rubber now and for a while we had to use long balloons until the rubber ones came in.”

“In my defense, I didn’t think the sword would break.” Richie said as he sat.

“Maybe so, but your actions still caused poor Jared to break his ankle.” Bev said, taking a swig of her beer.

“You go to the same school?” Eddie asked, looking at Richie. He’d never seen him on campus, never saw him with Bev. She’d never even mentioned him before as a friend.

“Theater major.” He said.

“Why is that not surprising.”

“I can’t tell if that was an insult or not.” Bev laughed.

Eddie shrugged. Their conversation continued this way for a while, discussions of school and classes and how each of them met. Beverly hadn’t known that Eddie and Ben had actually grown up together in a small rural town. Ben was visibly embarrassed when Eddie pulled out his phone and found some old pictures of them from middle school. Bev and Richie loved the photos though and teased them for how dorky they looked.

“So, wait, you actually carried a fanny pack?” Richie was laughing.

The drinks had been flowing for a while by this point and each of them was more than a little tipsy. As predicted, Ben had suggested ordering some bar food for the table. Beverly had been more than willing to order food, going to the bar and grabbing a menu. Half empty plates of wings, pretzel sticks with beer cheese, mozzarella sticks and fries sat between them.

“Why is that funny, asshole?” Eddie asked, pointing at him with the top of his bottle.

“No, it’s uh…” Richie laughed again. “I’m sure you were very fashionable.”

“It wasn’t about fashion. It was about function. I kept my inhaler in there.”

“Isn’t that what pockets are for?”

“I need another drink. Ben?” Bev said, standing.

Ben nodded and stood, following after Bev. Eddie reached over and grabbed another fry from the plate, washing it down with a mouthful of beer. He knew that Richie was watching him, but he tried to ignore it. They’d been bickering all night and he wanted just a second of peace and silence. Of course, Richie wasn’t about to comply with his wishes.

“Tell me something.” He said with a smile.

“Ok, you’re not funny.” Eddie said, making himself laugh in his buzzed state.

“No. Tell me why you always order black coffee when you seem to hate it.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“You look like you want to die whenever you take a sip.”

Eddie had never realized that Richie watched him while he sat in the café and drank his coffee. It made him feel slightly embarrassed and a little uncomfortable. He knew the guy liked to tease him and test out stupid jokes on him, but he didn’t know that he paid so much attention to him.

“My friend Stanley says you just have to get used to drinking black coffee and eventually you’ll love it.” He explained.

Richie laughed. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“It’s better than loading it down with a bunch of cream and sugar and flavored syrup. It’s empty calories.”

“Ok, so you don’t want added calories in your coffee, you drink light beer, but I just watched you help the rest of us devour a bunch of fried foods. Explain.”

“It’s not like I’m counting calories or anything. I just don’t think it’s smart to drink your calories. If you drink sugary crap all day then you’ll gain weight and spike your blood sugar. It’s not good for you.”

“So, then what do you drink?”

“Water, mostly. Sometimes I indulge in a soda with my meal if I’m so inclined.”

“Oh my God. You’re like an old man.”

“Fuck you. I just care about my body.” Eddie said, downing the last of his beer. He looked to the bar to see if Bev and Ben were headed back with another round yet, but he couldn’t see them. “Where did they go?”

Richie looked back and scanned the bar only to come up empty. “Must have left.”

“What the hell. Why wouldn’t he tell me he was leaving?”

“It wasn’t his choice. Bev had this plan from the start to ditch us so she could spend some time alone with him.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie now realized that he never did get the chance to tell Richie about their plan. “Ben was supposed to give me a signal to leave them alone here. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.”

“You didn’t warn me about your plan. What were you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know. I figured I’d just go home.”

Richie raised his eyebrows and grinned. “So, you were planning to take me home?

“Oh, fuck off. You know what I meant.” Eddie stood and grabbed his jacket. “Well, if they’re gone, I’m leaving too.”

Eddie slipped his jacket on, not catching the way Richie’s smile finally fell away and was replaced with a frown. He stood as well and followed Eddie to the bar. They closed out their tab and split the cost, though Eddie planned to get at least half of that back from Ben for ditching him without warning. He resisted the urge to pull his phone out and text him to let him know he sucked, but he was with Bev and that’s what he wanted. Why did he have to be such a supportive friend?

Without saying goodbye, Eddie turned to leave but Richie was close on his heels. They walked out into the night and Eddie realized he hadn’t even bothered to order an uber. He pulled his phone out and opened the app, only to realize that Richie was staring down at him expectantly.

“What?” He asked, glancing at him before turning his attention back to his phone.

“Before you head home do you want to get some…ice cream?” He asked.

Eddie finally looked at him. “It’s like thirty degrees out here. There’s snow on the ground. And you want ice cream?”

Richie shrugged. “Yes?”

“Yea, I’ll pass.”

“Ok, it doesn’t have to be ice cream. There’s a 24-hour diner close by with really good pie.”

“I think I’d rather go home and sleep.”

“I’ll treat.”

Eddie’s fingers paused on his screen. He really didn’t want to spend any more time with this man, but he knew of the diner he was talking about and their pie was amazing. It was the offer to pay for him that really had him considering saying yes. He was going to respond when Richie’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned down at the screen.

“Shit. I um…I have to go somewhere but…rain check on the pie?” He asked, giving him a sheepish smile.

Eddie couldn’t help thinking he looked disappointed. “Yea. Maybe.”

Richie said goodbye with that same look for disappointment still on his face as he rushed off down the street. Eddie was lucky enough to get an uber that was already close by. As soon as he got home, he collapsed on his couch and sent a text to Ben.

Eddie: You left me alone with Richie. You owe me. Big

He didn’t expect to hear from him until tomorrow with a full report of what happened with Beverly. Eddie was happy for his friend. He could tell that Bev liked him too and he wanted them to be together. Wanted them both to be happy. He just couldn’t help but feel jealous. He wanted to like someone, to have someone like him back. Longed for companionship and love. He fell asleep on the couch remembering the look Richie had given him when he left and wondering where he had to rush off to.

[winterknight1087]

Play to Ease Anxiety

Summary: Thomas finds Virgil a game called Stardew Valley to try and ease his anxiety.

Word Count: 2806

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus, cursing, food mention, mention of a goose with a knife and death (no one dies)

Pairings: n/a

AO3 Link       My Writing

A/N: So, I’ve become super obsessed with Stardew Valley recently (like I’ve clocked about 70hrs into the game despite having it less than two weeks). I realized how much the sides would actually enjoy the game and so this came about... So yeah, enjoy!

Thomas groaned as he yanked the pillow out from under him and smushed it against his face, trying to stop the anxious thoughts. Finally, he got up, knowing that just laying there wouldn’t solve anything. So, Thomas took a seat at his laptop, wondering what he could do to help calm Virgil. Thomas may have needed a nap, but Virgil needed help first.

Thomas messaged a couple of his friends, asking for something to help his anxious side relax. For the most part, the advice wasn’t all that helpful: breathe, avoid caffeine, exercise… Yeah, sure, they were all valid advice, but Thomas could tell that those wouldn’t ease the anxious side this time.

As he was about to start Googling ideas, a final message arrived, suggesting that he play a calming game, with a couple of suggestions: Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Minecraft, or phone games with the word idle in them. Thomas knew Virgil would refuse to play Minecraft, just because ‘do you know what playing that would do to my image?’ He also figured that phone games would be out as he found them a bit mindless, which didn’t really help stop anxious thoughts. With that, Thomas pulled up Animal Crossing. Of course, it being 60 bucks, that made that game a bit unreasonable for right now. He did scribble a note to himself to discuss including it in his budget with Logan as he now wanted to play it himself. With that, he looked up Stardew Valley. It was much cheaper than Animal Crossing, so there was that. It looked to be some farming game. Maybe…

 ****

 Virgil sat on the couch, trying to calm his head. Too many things were stressing him out and even blasting his music– so loud that if he were a real human, his hearing would be gone within the hour–he still could hear his thoughts. Nothing was working and he knew that he was probably affecting Thomas, but that just added to his list of stuff.

A hand gently tapped his shoulder, jolting him off of the couch, teetering on a panic attack. Thomas motioned the side’s headphones as Virgil started trying to regulate his breathing. The side didn’t want to take them off and hear the lecture about controlling his anxiety better and how he was failing Thomas, but he also knew that he deserved it. He knew this was going to be coming since he woke up this morning with that feeling of ‘everything is wrong.’

“Sorry, Virge. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You weren’t responding to me waving a hand in front of you though.” Thomas said, gently.

“Just get it over with, Thomas. I know I’m failing and it’s a bad day and I’m sorry but that isn’t good enough and I should be able to handle this better but I can’t and…”

“Hey, hey. Take a deep breath, Vee. This isn’t bad. I know it’s not your fault. You’re struggling just as much as I am with this.”

Virgil was close to tears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, you don’t need to apologize. Here, this is what I wanted to show you.”

Virgil accepted the laptop Thomas offered him, wondering what new horror was about to be added to his list. Instead, it was some load screen with ‘Stardew Valley’ on it. Virgil looked at his host in confusion, wondering what he was supposed to be panicking about regarding this.

“It’s a farming game. Talyn recommended it to me and I thought you could use the distraction. The Internet seems to like it and it isn’t Minecraft. I even saw that one of the NPCs smokes pot, another likes spooky places, and there are these little candy things that are excited if you give them an ear of corn so are essentially Patton.”

“Oh…” Virgil wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this. “And you gave me your new game because…?”

“Music isn’t helping you, so maybe a game can! If you don’t want to play, it’s OK, but it’s an idea at least.”

Virgil looked at the laptop. “Are you sure?”

“About the game helping? Well, no but it’s something we can try.”

“No, about lending me your laptop? What if I drop it or accidentally download something icky and break it or…”

“Hey, breathe. I know you guys said that whatever I have on my laptop, you guys get on yours within the mindscape, so you should have it on yours. So, I guess if you want to go grab your laptop, you can, but I figured that this would be easiest for you as you don’t have to lose sight of me while anxiety is trying to list every bad thing that has a high chance of never happening.”

“Oh…”

“So, you going to play?” Thomas asked, playfully nudging his anxious side.

Virgil shifted so he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally drop his host's laptop before hitting the new button. He went through the character design page and watched the scene with the grandfather. Then the game opened and he started figuring out how the game mechanics worked.

Thomas smiled as he watched the anxious side plant some parsnips before heading into town to start meeting people. Not even five minutes into the game, the host could feel the knot in his stomach vanish and he finally felt relaxed.

“So?”

“Shut up, Sanders. I have parsnips to water.”

Thomas laughed but watched the anxious side play for a it longer. He waited until the side was halfway through the month without another shoot of anxiety hitting him before deciding that he could go take his nap now. Virgil waved him off, as he harvested parsnips from the little patch outside his cabin.

Virgil wasn’t aware of how much time in real life passed before Patton’s voice intruded on his new mental lists of things he needed to do in the game. “Hey there, kiddo! You doing alright?”

“Hey, Pat. Yeah, I’m chill.”

“Is that Thomas’s laptop? Whatcha doing with it?” Patton asked, curiously.

“He downloaded a game for me and now I’m playing it.”

“Oooh! Can I watch!?”

“Sure.”

Patton jumped into the seat next to his best friend. The game looked cute and Virgil seemed to have put a lot of work into his little farm already. Patton cuddled in close and watched. The Flower Dance was his favorite part as Virgil moved into the first day of summer. Virgil frantically went around preparing his little farm for summer planting, finding that there was not enough time in the short days to accomplish everything he wanted to.

“…noying as you!”

“Hey, shut up. I’m busy!”

The twins looked at the couch in surprise to see Patton curled up against Virgil while Virgil worked on Thomas’s laptop. They glanced at each other, wondering what was going on, but also reminded of what they had been doing before popping up.

“Hey, since the two of you are here, can you settle something for us?” Roman asked.

“What’s up, kiddos?” Patton asked, looking over as Virgil cranked up the game’s music in response.

“Well, Remus…” Roman started off on a long-winded rant that was rudely interrupted constantly by noise from whatever Virgil was doing. Finally, the prince moved over and looked at the laptop. It was some computer game around farming? Virgil opened the social tab and looked through the list, seeing how many hearts he had with Marnie.

“Oooh, ‘single’? Does that mean you can go woo some villagers?” Roman asked, grinning.

“Once you have enough friendship hearts, yeah. Then date and marry them. You can even have two children with them.” Virgil answered, closing out of the social screen.

“That looks interesting! When is it my turn?!”

“Not now.”

“But I want to play the new game!”

“You have your own computer.”

“But it’ll be a whole new game! This one is already well underway!”

“You are not messing up my farm, Princey. I’ve put a lot into it and I do not need you going in and messing things up.”

“If only we could all play together! That would be so much fun!” Patton said.

“I… well…maybe? Let me finish this day and I can check something.”

“You think there’s a way to do multiplayer!?”

“If I remember the start screen well enough, yeah.”

Patton started giggling as he jumped off the couch. “I’ll go get my laptop then! Come on, you two!”

Virgil rolled his eyes as Pat and the twins vanished back into the mindscape. He finished up his day before closing out of his farm and looking into the co-op option. He slowly figured out how to set it up and had just opened the new farm when the three of them returned with their laptops.

It took Virgil a little investing to figure out how to share it with the others but it worked out and soon they had their first crop planted. Not even three days into the game, Roman had announced his intentions of wooing Elliot, who he insisted was the most romantic NPC. Remus liked pulling trash out of their little ponds and gifting it to everyone. Patton was talking to everyone and just enjoying the game. Virgil was happy that the planting and harvesting of crops was less stressful with extra help.

 ****

 It was too quiet. Logan liked the quiet, but it was also nerve-wracking. He knew the twins had been arguing pretty much all afternoon over Remus having released a goose into the Imagination and it had apparently chased Roman from one end to the other with a knife. Something about some game. It was still too early in the afternoon for the twins to have stopped yelling at each other. He also didn’t hear Patton singing or a movie in the background, breaking up the silence. Logan also knew that this was a bad day for Virgil, but he assumed that the anxious side fell asleep or something.

“Have you seen the trash rat?” a voice asked behind Logan.

Logan would deny the small shout and jumping as he spun to see Dee standing there, unamused. He quickly recomposed himself and straightened his tie. Dee noted that the logical side’s eyes were relieved though upon seeing him.

“Salutations, Dee. No, I have not seen Remus. I have not seen anyone in the past couple of hours, in fact.”

“Locked yourself in your room again, have you?”

“No, I have not. I was reading in the commons. I eventually noticed that everything was too calm though and went to investigate. You are the first side I have seen since.”

Dee raised an eyebrow. “Well, those four don’t have enough brain cells to open a jar with instructions right in front of them.”

“Which also concerns me.”

“Have you checked Thomas’s house, yet? The hissing cat of a side would probably place himself where he could see Thomas if the anxiety from earlier was any indication.”

Logan considered it. “No, I have not. That is a valid point though.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Logan hadn’t even fully risen up before he heard Roman screeching. He assumes that this meant the goose with a knife didn’t kill the prince in the Imagination, then. Logan noted all the sides who’d been missing, sitting around the living room on their laptops. Roman was screeching at his twin about something with hitting someone with a slingshot.

“Glad to see that you lot didn’t get yourselves lost in the mindscape.” Dee drawled.

“Shut up, I have blueberries to harvest and I already have that mess over there to ignore,” Virgil stated.

“What?” Dee and Logan responded in unison, confused.

“We’re playing a farming game! Do you two want to join?” Patton asked excitedly.

“Wiki says that multiplayer only goes up to four, Pat,” Virgil commented.

“Well, if you’re playing a game, there are bound to be mods.”

 ****

 Thomas woke up groaning as light hit him. Blearily he glanced at the time, surprised to see that what was supposed to be a short nap turned into a full night of sleep plus some. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing that he was in for a long lecture from Logan about sleeping for 16 hours.

He got out of bed and got ready for the day, unnaturally so calm that it mildly worried him. He couldn’t even worry himself about the lack of anxiety. He finally started downstairs before the voices in the living room alerted him to the fact his sides were all present.

Thomas peeked around the wall, to see all his sides sitting around the living room on their laptops. A giant whiteboard sat in front of the TV with Logan’s scribbled handwriting all over it. On Thomas’s coffee table sat his laptop, with the game that he’d given Virgil open. It took a moment before Thomas realized what was going on, but he chuckled to himself when he did.

After taking a picture of the living room, Thomas continued downstairs as Logan stood up and went to the whiteboard. He scribbled something next to Roman’s name before coloring in a patch of squares. Thomas greeted the room. Logan was the only one to glance over to the host. Everyone else kept their eyes focused on the game, though they all muttered a greeting back.

Thomas went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. He decided on some eggs and toast. Easy, no real thought process. He opened the fridge and pulled out the egg carton. Taking an egg out, he was struck with the disappointed thought of ‘the spirits and chickens must be displeased with me today’.

The host marched into the living room and over to his anxious side. He didn’t say anything as he held the egg up to him. Virgil glanced up and noticed his host and the egg. The anxious side didn’t have anything to say, so merely shrugged.

“The spirits and chickens must be displeased then.”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“They are displeased.”

Patton giggled. “You want to join us, Thomas?”

“We already have a cabin and character set up for you, if you would like to join our group one. Just be careful not to close the command prompt. It will shut the game down. We had to add mods to play with everyone.” Logan commented, looking over his board of information.

Thomas looked around at his living room full of sides, peacefully–or well as peacefully as he could ever hope– playing the game. Sure, the twins were bickering, but that was more of their sibling relationship than actual anger this time.

“Won’t it mess up whatever you guys already got going on?”

“Nah, Lo would just reorganize who tends to which crops. Real issue would be who you plan on dating. I’ve called Elliot, Patton is going for Sam, Remus wants Emily, Logan is after Maru, Dee wants to date Shane, and Vee is in between dating Sebastian or Abigail or even just rooming with Krobus. But if you would rather one of them, I’m sure we’d be willing to let you, our most amazing and beloved host, steal our crush.” Roman said.

“Flattery will not save you if he wants the isolated writer on the beach, kiss-up,” Dee commented.

“Statistically speaking, it is more likely that Thomas would choose one of Virgil’s choices due to the fact he is in between three choices or one of the remaining dating NPCs. Factoring in his preferences though, he is most likely to pursue Sam or Sebastian.”

“I have no idea what any of that means, but sure. I’ll join. Just let me get some breakfast.” Thomas glanced at his anxious side. “Without the spirits or whatever being disappointed. I’ll have you know that these are technically large eggs and I have no idea why that is an important factor or whatever.”

“That works. I will factor your playing into our assignments.” Logan said, setting his laptop in front of Patton. “Make sure Logic gets to be before the hard bedtime.”

Thomas laughed as he shook his head. He went back into the kitchen to make something to eat, occasionally peeking into the living room as he heard Dee try and convince Logan to give him a certain crop while the logical side rearranged the work. Thomas couldn’t help the smile as he decided that he would need to find some way to thank Talyn for this suggestion. Still, that was for later. He wasn’t getting anything other than virtual farming done today since all of his sides seemed to be intent on this.

“The spirits are very happy today.” Thomas found himself muttering, not sure what it meant but knowing that it was a good thing.

[shreyamistry]

A Moment Worth Waiting For - Elliot x MC

Pairing: Elliot x MC

Word Count: 1.3k+

Summary: Elliot and David find themselves on the balcony of the Eiffel Tower looking at the world around them enjoying themselves until the conversation rolls into emotional territory. Elliot 

A/N: This is a rewrite of the diamond scene from the last chapter simply because I wanted to kiss him,,,so here it is lmao. Here is my masterlist! And find a version for each LI below! 

Ahmed here! Marisa here! Sumire here!

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it!

“See something you like?” David teases leaning his head back as the wind blows through his hair his eyes closed enjoying the breeze from the night around him.

Elliot laughs charmingly at the man in front of him, “The view is pretty captivating.” He steps forward gingerly, closing some of the space between the pair. His hands in his pocket, his smirk still on his face, his features soft and suggestive.

“You’re not even looking at the view,” David laughs.

Elliot shrugs, “Aren’t I?” David can’t help the laugh that leaves his lips, and the blush on his cheeks as he turns his face slightly away from Elliot’s nudging the man beside him playfully. He resists the urge to lean against Elliot’s lean frame and rest his head on Elliot’s shoulder.

“You’re pretty smooth, you massive flirt,” David replies.

Elliot laughs, “Coming from he who flirted with the guard to get us into the back room at the museum.” David laughs with him before both of them turn to gaze at the view of Paris from their balcony. Their arms brush against one another as they lean against the railing, taking in the sights of the glowing city beneath them. David can’t help but marvel at the view, it was amazing to see it in pictures, but in person, it felt so surreal to him that he found himself in this beautiful city with a handsome man beside him. He looks over to Elliot whose face has dropped from the smirk he loved so much, contempt on his face as his brows creased with worry.

David watches him a few seconds before Elliot notices him staring trying to pull himself out of the funk to no avail. “Everything okay, El?” The words snap his expression back to normal, but his face hides the words that he’s trying to keep from him, and David won’t back down when Elliot clearly needed a friend.

“Of course…” He said diplomatically as though he were at a board meeting before his voice falters, “I was just thinking of a memory. Not a happy one, unfortunately. Though I suppose they all can’t be happy.”

“Then I will do everything in my power to make every memory with me happy.” David offers getting a soft smile from Elliot who rolls his eyes despite the warmth in his chest. He brushes his fingers against the edge of David’s hands, resisting the urge to take his hand for comfort his eyes following the skyline instead of David’s inviting features.

“I’ll hold you to that, I hope you know,” Elliot replies.

“You better babe,” David replies, “However let me guess, this is about your father and his expectations of you. He wanted the best of the best and you wanted a kangaroo zoo in your backyard?”

Elliot can’t help but laugh at him, “How’d you know?” He runs a hand through his blond hair pushing the lost strands of hair into place as he watches David with interest. Even in his sadness, he saw such a burning warmth from the man in front of him, he felt like he could trust David with his entire world of being.

“All rich boys are the same,” David laughs, “Seriously if you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” Elliot smiles softly in response before sighing to himself. His gaze wonders the skyline again, taking in the golden hue of the city below.

“This isn’t my first time here,” Elliot recalls, he turns his back to the railing leaning against it for support. “I’ve been to his observation desk before, with my father.” The word rolls off his tongue with a bitterness hidden behind it, David almost doesn’t quite catch it. “At the time I was awestruck, it’ was so beautiful, it still is. I was young, and the beauty of the view had quite the impact on me. I wanted my father to be similarly struck, but he chided me for being distracted by something so superficial.”

“Dad of the year award goes to not him.” David jokes, getting little response from Elliot still thinking about the memory his face contoured with a mix of hurt and grief almost, David couldn’t describe it; the way the memory struck such a cord within Elliot. He places his hand on Elliot’s, their eyes meeting for a moment before Elliot looks down. “Go on, I'm listening.”

“I simply wanted to have an enjoyable time with him and I think he wanted the same. But enjoyment for my father has always been rooted in business and success. He tried to impress upon me that the fun of Paris was in the commerce and financial success, but we were on completely different pages. I was a kid abroad wanting to go to the park, you know?”

David laughs with a sweet smile, “I get that. That must have been hard as a kid.”

“Tell me about it.” Elliot laughs humorlessly. “It was one of the most vivid times I remember being confronted with the fact that I was not the son my father wanted to be.”

“Elliot...you are amazing. How could he want anything different? You’re intelligent, hilarious, and a delight to be around. And oh, so handsome.” David turns his hand over underneath Elliot’s lacing their fingers together, brushing his thumb back and forth on Elliot’s hand, the both of them enjoying the feeling of each other’s hands in their own.

“I’m flattered you think so,” Elliot flushes, “Unfortunately, my father is a much harsher critic of my character. It gets lonely, feeling like you’re not allowed to enjoy things or appreciate beauty.”

“Yet, you’ve spent all night enjoying me.” David teases stepping closer to Elliot, “You’re too good for him. You should enjoy all the beauty the world has to offer, what life are you living if you don’t stop to smell the roses. You’re amazing, Elliot.”

Elliot smirks again, “You’re different, you know that? Ever since meeting you on that flight, I’ve felt like I can breathe. I can laugh at stupid jokes and just relax. I’m less serious, more motivated to have fun...you bring out something in me that I stifled for so long. It’s been very refreshing to branch out.”

“You’re fun to be around, Elliot, especially when you’re enjoying yourself. You make tonight worth it for me, the stress and worry about my job I can put it away when I’m with you and it’s just the two of us.”

“I can’t wait to break more of my father’s rules, look where I am now. With the most beautiful man on the planet, making friends, and enjoying views that he forced me to hate. I’m a new man with you and I can’t wait to break more rules like…” Elliot trails off.

“Like kissing beautiful people?” He teases stepping closer to Elliot.

Elliot smirks, “Quite possibly. It’s certainly not off the table, could be on. However, it’ll maybe be just one.”

“Lucky person,” David replies, pressing himself against Elliot, moving to wrap his arms around him letting his head rest on Elliot’s chest, Elliot pressing his chin against the top of David’s head the pair standing in the warmth of each other’s embrace against the cool night air.

“Thank you for listening, David.”

“I like getting to know you,” David smiles taking a step back, “Your babble is music to my ears.”

Elliot watches him curiously, his eyes wandering the length of David’s lips, the sweet expression on his face, and warmth behind his eyes. The want building between them, Elliot holding himself back from pulling David into his arms and kissing him. “I want to kiss you so badly,” Elliot laughs warmly, “May I?”

“Finally.” David groans.

Meeting Elliot halfway, his hands running through Elliot’s hair as Elliot’s plant themselves on his lower back, pulling his body tighter against him, their forms falling into one another. Elliot’s hands moving up and down David’s back as peppers his kisses against his lips enjoying the sweetness of David’s wine on his tongue. A groan escaping his lips as David pulls on his lower lip with his teeth, wrapping one leg around Elliot’s bringing them closer together.

They meld into one losing track of time as they enjoy the sensation of each other’s lips and their hands exploring one another’s bodies as the stars twinkle in the sky above them laced with hope and brightness for their future.

[cordonianchoicesqueen]

Rewritten: The Royal Romance: You’re the Prince of What Now? (Part Three)

A/N: I never read the diamonds chapter for this but this is how I’d want it to go. I like to think that most people wouldn’t believe Liam outright when he says he’s a prince and actually question him on it.

Summary: Riley comes to terms with the fact the handsome stranger she has been spending time with is a prince. She decides to take him on an adventure to see the Statue of Liberty.

Choices Chapter: Book One, Chapter One, Second Half

Disclaimer: Characters and main storyline from Pixelberry’s Choices.

Word Count: 2653

Warnings: none

You’re the Prince of What Now?

He took my hand gently, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you the truth.” “What is that then?” “The truth is, Riley… I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

I scoffed. This man is insane or at least insane to believe I would believe… I looked him dead in the eyes. I saw nervousness but not deception. “You’re a great con-artist. I almost believe you,” I shook my head, pulling my hand away. “You can google it! I promise! I know it sounds crazy. It’s a tiny country. It’s not like I’m claiming to be next in line to the thrown of Great Britain. Although, I do know their family very well…” he rambled as I pulled out my phone. “How do you spell Cordonia?” As he spelt it out to me, I searched: prince of cordonia. Immediately, images of Liam at all sorts of grand events popped up. Articles about his elder brother passing the thrown to Liam earlier in the year. Pictures of Liam wearing a crown, sat beside a man who could only be his father and king of this country I had never heard of. I slowly lowered myself back into my seat. I was in shock. The day had just been progressively becoming more like a fantasy. Liam looked as though he was about to speak but I stopped him. I wasn’t ready to speak and I read page after page. I even spotted Tariq and Maxwell in a few pictures. Finally, I landed on a tabloid page which was titled What Will Our Prince Get Up to in the U.S.A? “You’re a prince?” was the only thing I could muster. This felt like a conversation you could only have in a movie in a beautiful garden with a prince dressed like a beggar taking off his disguise and declaring his love at first sight for the girl in front of him. The reality was that we could barely hear each other over the blaring pop music and cheers of the crowds on the dancefloor of Kismet. Did this change what I thought of him?   “Perhaps I should’ve been more upfront with you… But I’m not normally allowed to go around without the Royal Guard, and I was only allowed out on the condition that I kept my identity a secret. I got to be free. I’m very aware that I have a duty to the monarchy. I’ve never known anything else. But what about you? You could be anything, do anything. What drives you, Riley?” Struggling to figure out how the conversation had come back around to me I said, “what I really want is to see the world. I’m saving and one day I’m going to go see everything.” “That’s beautiful,” Liam said, his voice light and wistful. I glanced up, taking him in again with all the information I had just learned. It weirdly didn’t change anything about how I’d viewed him. He’d seemed caring, selfless and kind, which he obviously was from his philanthropist acts as prince. He seemed both down to earth and from some other world entirely. Mostly, I was just sad to know I’d probably never get to see him again. I guess in our short conversations, I had already started to have feelings for him and had hoped we could maybe have met up again but now… this night was all I was going to have with him. So I was going to make it count. I broke his gaze and spotted the guys on the dance-floor, mingling with other club goers. Maxwell was waving his limbs all over the place, making many people on the dance-floor laugh. I could, almost, hear him egging on Drake to show off his moves. Drake stood almost still, swaying to the beat, a large glass of whiskey in his hand rolling his eyes at Maxwell but smiling. Tariq had joined them on the dance-floor, holding his glass of champagne high so that it wouldn’t spill. It was time to stop being the over-thinker I always tended to be and live in this moment. In some crazy turn of events I was out clubbing with a prince from a foreign country who was interested in me and trusted me enough to share his big secret. “Let’s dance,” I took Liam’s hand confidently. I led him down onto the dance-floor. He seemed amused by me taking the lead and his smile melted my heart. We helped ourselves to more drinks and joined his friends. They all seemed so different but fit together like puzzle pieces from different boxes creating something new, cohesive and exciting. I barely knew them but I felt included and happier than I had felt in months. I wrapped my arms around Liam’s neck, swaying and laughing with him as pop song after pop song played. His hands felt warm on my hips and I wanted to pull him closer but dared not push any unspoken boundary. “Looks like your friends are having fun,” I gestured. “Good. I’m happy for them. They deserve to have fun… tomorrow, it’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season,” he whispered in my ear with mixed emotion. I stood on my tip-toes to reach his ear and whispered back, “It’s not tomorrow yet…” “What are you suggesting?” he said, his face so close to mine I could feel the dimple of his smile form in his cheek. “You said you wanted to see the statue of liberty. Let’s do it!” I said. “It’s so late! Won’t all the tours be closed?” he questioned. “I have my ways,” I said sneakily.

Getting Liam to ride the subway with me was a challenge. He stuck out like a sore thumb as he looked around in awe at the public transport system he had heard so much about but never seen for himself. We had swung around poles on the almost empty carriage and annoyed everyone with our giggling. Finally, we made it Whitehall street where the Staten Island Ferry docks. “So I can’t get you all the way to the statue of liberty,” I admitted, “but I can take you on a boat with the best view in town, I promise.” As if by magic, the Ferry came into view and began to dock. I explained to him that the Staten Island Ferry runs 24/7, is frequent and doesn’t cost a penny. “I used to love riding the ferry after a night out and eat some take-out food with a view. It feels classy but on a budget,” I laughed. He shook his head at me in disbelief, “what a lucky man I am to have stumbled upon you this evening.” I looked away before he could see me blush and led him onto the boat. We situated ourselves in some of the ugly plastic seats with a view out of the windows. As the boat left the docks, I felt the wind get chillier and shivered. “Are you cold?” Liam asked, concern in his voice. “I’m okay, really,” I lied, missing my sweat pants that were still sitting in my locker at Elliot’s. We sat in comfortable silence until suddenly out of the darkness, the unmistakable sight of the Statue of Liberty came into view. Liam stood, his mouth open in awe, staring at the sight. I had seen the statue enough times to no longer be hit by the history of the monument but looking at it through his eyes made me feel like it was the first time. I thought of the history of immigrants arriving in New York and seeing Lady Liberty, ready to welcome them through. Times had changed since then, some positive and some negative. History has a way of repeating itself and remembering how prejudice has affected the world can help figure out the problems of today. “Did you know,” Liam said, still transfixed on the statue, “that there are seven spikes on her crown? They represent the seven oceans and the seven continents of the world. Reminding us of the universal concept of unity and liberty.” “I did not know that,” I stood next to him. He placed his arm around me and it felt like the perfect fit. “Thank you for this, Riley, really,” he said quietly. He felt how cold I was and took off his jacket, draping it around me. “This really is turning into a corny fairy-tale you know,” I said laughing at his kind gesture. “How so?” he smirked. “Come on. Prince and his pauper on a night time boat ride in New York city, the attractive male lead puts his jacket round the girl’s shoulder so that she feels protected and cared for.” “And what happens next in his story?” he asked. I tucked a hair that was blowing in the wind behind my ear. I felt all the confidence in my body surge as I stood on my toes and kissed him. His lips were soft and tasted like a mix of honey and champagne. He took my face in his hands and pulled me closer, kissing me deeply. I could feel his nose pressed up alongside mine as he lightly nibbled my lower lip. I felt anxiety leave my body, all thoughts and worries were gone and replaced with the thought of the man who stood before me. When the kiss ended, we both blushed beetroot red and giggled. “I feel like I’m five years old,” Liam laughed. “You’ve completely captured me, Riley.” He shook his head in disbelief. I wanted to tell him that that was ridiculous, that I couldn’t possibly have done anything to make me care for him that much in the short few hours we had known each other. But I couldn’t because I felt the same. It wasn’t love at first sight but it was definitely chemistry, attraction, care and a lot of other bubbling, butterfly feelings. Enough that I knew saying goodbye would hurt.

A short while later, we stood outside the door to my apartment building. Liam, ever the gentleman, had insisted he make sure I get home safe. The stars above us twinkled. A beautiful night, for a beautiful story I would tell for years to come, I was sure. The story of my night with a prince in New York City. “Well I guess this is me,” I said, letting go of his hand. “Thank you for your company, Riley. Tonight has been… for lack of a better word incredible from the moment I met you,” Liam stepped closer to me so that I could feel so body heat radiating. He kissed me, pulling me in deeply. It was a kiss tinged with sadness, of a story that was never going to be told, of what could have been. My arms still around his neck we kept our foreheads touching, enjoying this final moment. “I am a better person for having met you,” he said softly. “I’ll never forget this night.” He kissed me on my forehead. “Neither will I. Goodnight, Prince Liam. Good luck picking a bride. She is a really lucky woman,” I said. We stepped apart. I walked up the few steps to the building and unlocked my door. As I stepped inside I looked back. Liam hadn’t moved an inch. I waved sadly. He bowed and walked away...

The next morning, I woke up with only a slight hangover headache. I grabbed some water and looked at my dishevelled morning after face in the mirror. The night before had been a dream… a memory I would have to hold close to me otherwise I’d never believe it had actually happened. It was time to get back to the real world and that meant preparing for another shift at Elliot’s. Dragging myself to the bar took a lot of coaxing but I still managed to get out my apartment with enough time to get some fresh air walking over. Just as I reached the door of the bar, I heard a familiar voice shouting behind me. “Riley! Riley!” I turned and saw Maxwell from the night before panting as he ran up to me. “Glad I caught you.” He stopped, putting his hands on his legs as he caught his breath. Maxwell then stood up straight, shook off the run and smiled widely at me. “We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia.” “What?” was all I managed. I hadn’t expected to see any of the men again from last night, never mind Maxwell surprising me the next morning before work with an invitation to go travelling with him. “You wouldn’t usually be allowed to join… but I want our family to sponsor you!” Maxwell goofily smiled and gave me finger guns. “Sponsor me?” I was still so confused. “I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters, so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the Prince. Instead, we can sponsor any girl we choose,” he said. “And I want you to be our pick.” “Why me?” I asked aghast. “I’m not just doing it for you. I saw how Liam looked at you last night. I’ve never seen him so happy. Honestly, I don’t want him to lose that,” he said. He waited a moment for a response but seeing my speechlessness said, “We’re kinda crunched for time, though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour…” “You’re moving a little fast, don’t you think? You want me to drop my whole life and move to another country with strangers to marry a prince?” I asked abruptly. “No time to waste! The opening Masquerade ball is tonight! It’s the start of the… uh, I guess you could say, it’s the start of the competition,” he said un-phased. “What do you mean competition?” “There’s a whole horde of gorgeous, rich, noble women vying to become Cordonia’s next queen. And it’s not just about winning the Prince’s hand. You’ve also got to prove to the council that you can rule Cordonia with him. But I think you’ve got what it takes. You’re witty, charming, beautiful, intelligent and Liam’s already suuuuper into you so you’ve got all that going for you!” he explained excitedly. “So… a fancy masquerade… so if I said yes… what else would I be getting myself into?” I said wondering how my mind was already talking myself into this. “Fun stuff! I promise! You’ll get to go yachting in the Mediterranean, ski-ing in the Alps and dancing in the Royal Palace… and it will all be funded by the Beaumont family as our sponsor,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows. Travelling and experiencing the world had always been my dream. This offer sounded too good to be true. “I just…” I felt reality stopping me from jumping up and down yes.   “Or you know, you can stay here… and go back to your waitressing gig with your shitty boss. That’s probably just as fun.” For a moment I thought about the life I had in New York. My friends had all moved away. My family ties were not tight. I hated my job and most days living in my tiny apartment. I felt crushed by the expectations of the life I felt like I had to lead. I then thought about the night before. Was I really going to give up everything I had for a man? But I wasn’t really giving up anything. I could do this for me, for adventure, for a positive change. I slowly started to smile. “I’m in!” I said, not quite believing what I was saying. “Yeah! GO PACK! This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!” Maxwell yelled in glee wrapping me up in a big hug.

[aion-rsa]

Pénélope Bagieu is California Dreamin’ About Mama Cass

French cartoonist Pénélope Bagieu has established herself as a creator to watch for in her native country — her series “Josephine” was adapted into two popular French movies, she’s collaborated with French cartooning legend Joann Sfar, and in 2013, she was honored as Chevalier of Arts and Letters at Angoulême. Her first work to be translated into English, “Exquisite Corpse” in 2015, garnered strong reviews, and she returned to U.S. shelves earlier this month with “California Dreamin’: Cass Elliot Before The Mamas and The Papas.”

At nearly 300 pages, “California Dreamin’” chronicles, as the subtitle suggests, Elliott’s adolescent family life and pre-fame struggles for recognition and respect among her music peers. In fact, it ends with Elliott finally hearing her song on the radio, commercial success on the horizon. Following its September 2015 French publication by Gallimard, “California Dreamin’”s English translation and distribution will again by handled by First Second Books, who previously published Bagieu’s English-language debut.

RELATED: Pénélope Bagieu Introduces Her Exquisite Corpse to the United States

While on a signing tour of the States, Bagieu spoke with CBR, discussing the early appeal of Mama Cass’s voice and presence, reinventing her illustration style, and why this book is more about getting her audience to feel something about Cass rather than know her factual biography.

CBR: Pénélope, what got you started on a comic book biography of Mama Cass?

Pénélope Bagieu: I remember discovering their best-of album (a cassette!) in my parents’ car and quickly stealing it away because I loved every song. I listened to it about a million times. Back then, the stereo of my room had a broken speaker, so I had only half the sound, and in particular, it isolated one of the voices. It was Cass Elliot’s, who made the song, most of the time. And then her image fascinated me too, on the cover: she was twice the size of the others, and she laughed with her mouth wide open, while the others looked mysterious. My fascination with Cass goes way back!

Then I started investigating about her… She grew up in a modest family in Baltimore, but she tackled everything at 19 [by setting out] for New York, all by herself. She was destined to take over the kosher deli from her parents, but she wanted to be a rock star. She was overweight but pictured herself on a Broadway stage. The whole world swore by Joan Baez, but she hated folk music. All men friendzoned her but she fell in love every ten minutes. The members of the Mamas and Papas did not want her in the band, but she sang so well that they were forced to take her (and to make a career largely thanks to her presence). I can’t believe she doesn’t have ten biopics by now.

Each chapter is from a different supporting player’s perspective, which allows different perspectives on her life. Why did you decide on that approach? And how much work went into getting details about how each of these narrators saw Cass?

I wanted Cass’s character to be revealed bit by bit, from different perspectives: people who knew her, loved her, hated her, but never through her own eyes, so that she would remain a mystery that the reader alone would have to solve. Like I read interviews of her family, band members, artists, while trying to figure out the Cass puzzle myself first. Her own interviews are very opaque, because she always put on that act of the joyous fun persona, while I think she was broken inside.

You give a lot of time to her adolescence and home life, which is often given short shrift or completely skipped in favor of the lascivious details of the Mamas and the Papas. Why did you opt for that approach?

This is exactly why this work was never a biography to me: I chose to end my story exactly when the song “California Dreamin'” hits the radios. When Ellen Cohen becomes Mama Cass. When she becomes that public figure, with that famous band, with the career that we know, the sordid details of John Phillips and the myth of the choking-on-a-sandwich. That part didn’t interest me much. But the little girl, the teenager, the young woman, the path to becoming that rockstar that we all know, that’s the kind of stories I love to read (and therefore, write). I don’t like to read biographies; I like to read captivating portraits, that I can relate to.

You do an excellent job balancing her larger-than-life, outgoing nature against some of her insecurities, particularly regarding her feelings for Denny. Was it a challenge to find the proper balance of those aspects of her personality?

That’s exactly what I have in mind when I say I’m not interested in biographies: I like to put myself in a character’s shoes and imagine how I would feel. All the interviews I’ve read from people who knew her, they all praised her cheerfulness, her jokes, her Like-I-care attitude towards people who judged her. But labels wouldn’t sign contracts to her unless she lost weight, and told her to her face, without any care. The man she loved the most ran away with her best friend. She went through so much. Of course she must have kept so much inside. The challenge of never giving her the speech in my story, and letting the reader understand all these inner-wounds for himself, forced me to a lot of empathy.

As we might expect, the book is peppered with celebrity cameos. Was there anybody who showed up in her life that surprised you? Anybody you wanted to fit into the book, but didn’t quite work for this story?

In so many stories of that time, she will appear in the background, of the blue! “We were at a party at Cass Elliot’s”, “Along comes Mama Cass with tons of free drugs for everybody,” etc. In most of the photographs I’ve found, she’s lying on a sofa backstage, giggling with Jimi Hendrix or having a beer with Mick Jagger. The parties at her mansion (in the hammock !) in Laurel Canyon were the place to be, apparently. But yes, there is one story I had to let go and would have demanded that I kept telling the story ten years farther [than I did]: Cass was a huge fan of John Lennon. More than a fan, she had a real crush on him. The Mamas and the Papas covered “I Call Your Name,” that Cass wanted to sing because of her love for the Beatles. During the break of the song, she whispers “John…”. Years after that, the Ms&Ps played in London and went to party afterwards. But Cass was sick and in bed. And when they returned, they told her “You’re gonna be mad when you learn who we met and spent the night drinking with!” (the Beatles, that is). And apparently, John Lennon asked which of the two girls whispered his name in the song, and when he heard that it was Cass, he said, “Too bad.” (nice.)

Don’t get me started on rock n’ roll anecdotes, I will never stop.

How long did you research her life?

Not too long. Colossal amount of dates and facts tend A) to paralyse me B) bore me. I’m not a journalist, nor a historian. The only thing I want to make extra sure of is that nothing I say is not true. The whole thing would collapse if I made up reality. But when I have this backbone of checked facts, actual dates and events, then I can start doing my real job, which is connecting the dots, giving personality to people and tell a story. I really think you shouldn’t read this kind of story to learn something, but only to feel something strong, and discover someone, and want to know more.

“California Dreamin’” was published last fall by Gallimard in France. Do the Mamas and the Papas have a strong French following?

Depends on the generation! But usually, even younger people will immediately light up when they hear the first notes of the song. This song is so timeless and universal that, of course, if you turn on a radio station in France right now you will hear “California Dreamin’” sooner or later before the end of day. Not that you need to know (nor like) the song to read the book.

Your previous book in English, “Exquisite Corpse,” was full of bright blocks of colors. How does working black & white change your approach to your artwork?

It was a very long piece and I knew I would need a challenge to keep myself entertained in the process. Also I wanted to create a unity between all these chapters that go from the 40s to the 60s, with all these different outfits, cars, hairstyles. But mostly, I wanted to free my drawing, and a simple cheap pencil, compared to my usual big Photoshop+Wacom industry, [allowed that] – without any going-back or correcting (I never used an eraser in this book), [showing] possible stains, fingerprints, coffee drippings once in a while [when] working from coffee shops. [Drawing] without a safety net, I really loved it, and it changed my way of drawing. It felt like a giant sketchbook, where all my characters (especially Cass) were moving, living, in a very vibrant way. And I also loved the feeling of having dirty hands like a kindergartener at the end of the day!

What’s next for you?

The next book that I will publish with First Second is called “Brazen.” It’s an anthology of extraordinarily cool women (again) who changed History but never made it to History books. They are mermaids, rockstars, spies, astronauts, shamans, actresses, bandits, empresses, rappers, criminologists, all of them practically unknown and yet so amazing. It came out in France a few months ago, and will be out in English (along with 8 other languages) next year, so I can’t wait!

“California Dreamin'” is currently available from First Second Books.

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