#I've always wanted to do a mock magazine cover

[almondcroissantsandink]

a little sneak peek for my piece in the @leonkennedyzine ;)

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon's interview w/ Film Scouts (November/December 1997)

Matt Damon on "Good Will Hunting"

By Henri Béhar

-

There's a unique freshness to Matt Damon. Fresh face, fresh voice. Strong impact. Made you lurch for the Courage Under Fire press kit to find out who this guy was who stole every scene he was in from Denzel Washington. One should have known when Francis Coppola gave the lead part in John Grisham's the Rainmaker to Matt who? Think of the Godfather, think of the Outsiders and Rumble Fish; if anything, Coppola has the keenest eye in the business for budding talent.

With best pal Ben Affleck, Boston-born-and-bred Matt Damon, 23, comes to Gus Van Sant's Good Will Hunting as a double-threat: lead actor AND scriptwriter. Having just wrapped Steven Spielberg's Private Ryan, he recently took some time off from his preparation for John Dahl's Parameters, which co-stars Edward Norton, Martin Landau and possibly John Turturro, to sit down and chat with us. Excerpts.

On Fame. I like it. I don't think I'm addicted to what is involved with it. I really could take it or leave it. So far, I'd have to say I don't quite know what you're talking about. Honestly. I haven't met a single person, I have not walked down the street where somebody stopped me and said, "Oh, you're Matt Damon." Not for a movie, not for a magazine cover, not for nothing. Which is normal since not that many people know my work, and which works fine for me: I want to be in a position where I can go wherever the character I'm researching is supposed to be from. That's what I'm doing in New York right now. The nice thing is I'm in a position now where they're actually paying for me to do it. I mean, they're putting me during the time when I research, which I used to have to go out of pocket. Courage Under Fire I did and The Rainmaker I did.

What was great about The Rainmaker was when I was bartending, people didn't know who I was. It would have gotten in the way if they knew who I was. So yes, in that sense, if both movies do well — that's a lot of if's — my job might get hindered. But I hope I can find a way, 'cause that's what's most important.

But it also affords you a lot of opportunities. When we did Courage Under Fire, Denzel Washington was allowed to lead tank battles. They really gave him command of these mock tank exercises and strategy lessons. I don't think he would have gotten that if he wasn't who he was. So there's a trade-off. But worse things can happen, you know, there are worse injustices in the world than my not being able to research anonymously.

On getting almost emaciated for Courage Under Fire It evolved essentially because there was a light at the end of the tunnel. There was a time limit. Given that, the person that outlined the diet for me didn't think I was going to be able to stick to it: it was too difficult. When I stuck to it, people got worried. "You have to eat, you have to be fit, you really have to be prepared." And I refused to do so. "Why eat? I've come this far, I'm not going to stop now."

At the end of movie I started eating chocolate cake. That's how I got sick. Literally, the day after I shot the scene with Denzel Washington walking on the lake, I started eating four or five chocolate cakes, twelve beers, four steaks, tons of pasta. And my stomach expanded... I had to go on medication, for dizziness, lightheadedness, stress, post-traumatic stress disorder... I've been off the medication for a couple of weeks now - after two years! That taught me a lot about what I can and can't do, what I should and shouldn't do. But I liked the role and I worked for the role. It cost a lot to get there and I'm glad that I stuck with it.

On his performances. I'm always pleased with my performances because I know that I couldn't do it any better. I always try my hardest, give it all I've got. If people don't like it, then they don't like it, that's totally up to them. But I'll never have a regret about it. And Good Will Hunting is a lot about that, about not having regrets in life. If it's putting on a lot of weight, if it's going to bar-tend or.., whatever it is, fine if you don't like it. You just do whatever it takes to get to the truth of the character. I don't think there's any length that you should not go to do that. That's what we do for a living.

On being best friends with, but also in constant competition with fellow actor-writer Ben Affleck. Well, we've had rises and falls that weren't necessarily meteoric but the word was "Us". If one of us was working and we had enough for both of us to go through life, great. The money was basically there to be shared. Ben would be in a series, like eight episodes, he made a little money, great. I did something, I made a little money, great. We're always looking out for each other. We go out for the same parts all the time but it's never really come down to a director saying, "It's either you or Ben." It would be more like, " It's Brad Pitt or you." But you always root for your own guy. I hung out with a bunch of actors and I always felt that if I don't get it, I hope someone in the group does, because I thought they were the best guys around and they deserved it.

On co-writing, part one. There are a bunch of different ways to do it. We really didn't have a formula. There were a lot of times when Ben and I just improv'd. We'd take a tape-recorder, put it down and just start improvising. Eventually we might come up with for a half-hour improv out of which we might have fifteen seconds that were good. And we'd be looking through the tape and "Yeah yeah yeah! That's it! That one! Write that down." And maybe a scene would start from that line.

It also depended upon our work schedules. At one point, I ran out of money and I took a job that ended up being a wonderful job, a TNT movie called The Good Old Boys that Tommy Lee Jones directed. The bad part was I was stuck in Alpine, Texas. There was one fax machine in the entire town run by this Iranian guy named Rajou. I used to go and he would send my fax away for me. He drove a Lexus and it was the only Lexus in West Texas. And his license plate read "Rajou". Anyway, Rajou was our middle man for our script for a few months there.

So Ben would fax me scenes, I'd look at them and I'd make notes. It would give me ideas, I'd send that back to Ben, Ben would read it... You know what I mean? And then we'd call each other on the phone and say, "Okay, that worked, this didn't work. — All right, now I see from this scene we needed this other scene... — Okay, I'll work on that. I'll take a shot on the set tomorrow, they're shooting a scene I'm not in, I'll have a couple of hours to do just that and I'll fax it to you at the end of the day." That's basically how it went.

On co-writing as opposed to going it alone. Well, two things: In the first place, writing came out of frustration, 'cause I didn't get a job. Two: co-writing was the only option. I had written forty pages for a class and I didn't know what to do with them. Didn't know where to go, didn't have the discipline to sit in front of the computer and wait for something to happen.

I showed it to Ben who, I think, is one of the brightest guys that I know, we have similar sensibilities — and he had the same reaction: He liked it but didn't know where to go with it. We sat on it for a year. And then it started coming. And it was through conversation that the movie kind of came out. Had I written it alone, it would have never gone beyond the forty pages.

On Gus Van Sant. Oh, man. Just that edge that we see in his films! All actors want to work with him because of the moment-to-moment honesty that he gets out of interaction with people. Whatever they are, he always has a great idea as to where to put the camera, and he gets good performances out of the actors because he shoots around them. He rehearses them, then very calmly decides where to put the camera, in a very unobtrusive place. It's just amazing. I felt like my acting process — whatever you want to call it — was nurtured by him. I would very much like to work with him again.

The fact that Ben and I had written the script didn't interfere at all. As a matter of fact, when it all started, there was almost a ceremonial handoff of the project. We said, "Look man, you are the director. This was our baby, it's yours now, go and do whatever it is you have to do." Despite the fact that Gus is a very communal director in that he wants everyone's opinions, which makes you feel you're part of the team, there can only be one chef in the kitchen when it comes to making a movie. Movies are the last great dictatorship. They need that. They need a strong voice, and a decisive voice, and the director is that voice. It has to be. Ben and I were very conscious about our place. As actors. When it started.

Before that was something else entirely [he laughs]. Gus and Ben came down to Memphis while I was shooting The Rainmaker. As we were working on the script, Gus said, "I want Chuckie (the Ben Affleck character) to get flattened on a construction site. — What do you mean? — Killed. Crushed like a bug. I want somebody to say, 'Chuckie was killed, he was crushed like a bug.'" Ben and I said, "That's a terrible idea! You can't kill him! — No, man. It'll be cool. It'll be the Act II climax. — That's a terrible Act II climax."

Anyway, we wrote a draft where Chuckie got crushed like a bug. When Gus read it, he said, "It's a terrible idea", so we threw it out. We probably have it on our hard drive somewhere. We also have Will getting killed on our hard drive somewhere. That was an original ending: Carmine came back with his boys and a baseball bat to kill Will Hunting, who deep down actually wanted to be killed. It was his way of getting out. You can kind of sense the movie is going that way. You know: "Will drives off into the sunset to find the girl he lost — except for that 18-wheeler that he didn't see." [laughs]

What will happen when - if - Will gets to California? You have to ask Minnie Driver... I think Skylar, her character, will whip his ass. That's it: Good Will Hunting the sequel, scene one: " Will gets whipped." But I don't really know where we would go from there.

[deadlyflan]

Friend @dandalionbold drew my OCs!

I'm over the moon with gratitude and delight. I've not posted the fanfic where I introduce them, but I've been working in drafts and sharing with dandalionbold. She surprised me with art based on my various Picrew mock-ups of my four turtle girls. I could not be happier!

picrew mock-ups on which she based her art:

Overview

Dinah, Helen, Nina, & Julie: four survivors out of an original control group of 10 'sister' turtles in the basement of TGRI. They grew up as laboratory animals and know the world through educational videos and textbooks, weight-height checks and file folders full of charts.

These turtle girls wore smocks and scrub pants out in the lab, but were expected to turn the clothes back in and submit to contraband check before returning to their room. Faced with a floor to ceiling observation window, the girls' only privacy came from hiding under their blankets.

Once they escape the lab, all of them seek comfort in as much clothing and coverings as possible. In the fullness of time, some of them will relax and treat clothes as functional or fashion choices, but fresh from the lab, cloth is armor against being watched.

Note on colors and hijab

Since I have used various Picrews for my mock-ups, I didn't always get consistent colors or features for my turtle girls. I don't intend for these girls to be specifically color-coded. Nor do i mean to imply that they are traditional or religious hijabis. They do wear loads of layers, scarves, shawls, hoods-up hoodies, headscarves, and hats out of anxiety, but typically the only picrew options for full-body cover are headscarves and hijab. I mean no disrespect in using those options.

Individual bios

Dinah is sickly. In my story, she goes through some intense medical trauma to escape the lab. The effects of that will linger the rest of her life, but she's still very much a people-pleaser. In her mind, there are right answers to everything and she's determined to prove she can be a good girl and get it all correct. At first, too many open-ended questions or ambiguous answers push her to meltdowns. Over time, the TMNT family demonstrates that there are no punishments for 'wrong' answers and Dinah will be more able to handle uncertainty.

Helen is protective. The world is very much divided into "us" versus "them" for Helen. It's her and her sisters against the world. In the lab that was true, and her methods of lying, sneaking, and hoarding food for her sisters helped them all. Outside of the lab, she's going to have a hard time adjusting to a family that is on her side. Her new family frowns on lying, catches her sneaking, and doesn't want her stashing food in weird places. Unsure who the clear enemy is and unbalanced without an obvious threat, Helen will need lots of help feeling safe.

Nina is shy. She's witty and loves nature magazines, but you wouldn't know that to meet her. Only Nina's sisters get to hear her talk in a voice above a whisper. An illness caused her a slight lower leg deformity--nothing drastic, she can still walk--but she's very aware of her limp. She has nightmares about being too slow and about being culled from her group. Nina distrusts new people, but once the guys figure out she likes animal documentaries, they will have a quietly enthusiastic companion slip in and watch from beside the sofa.

Julie is mourning. The girls had 6 other sisters growing up with them. It was crowded and it was loud, but one of those girls was Julie's twin. Julie hasn't spoken out loud since sickness separated them all. At least she, Dinah, Helen, and Nina were reunited--even if Nina came back hurt. Now Julie clings to the sisters she has left. She cries a lot, but she keeps it quiet. She gets bad scores in testing, but nobody seems to expect more. Julie lives for 'lights out' when her sisters will crowd close under the blanket and she can pretend everyone came back.

[milkytheholy1]

Another failed mission

Yelena Belove x reader - could be platonic or romantic it's up to you.

A/N: Just a quick little oneshot, all fluff, never written for Yelena before but I've been dying to for a while, hope you enjoy!

Ultimate masterlist. Marvel masterlist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There she was, the target was in sight. She was relaxed, not even suspecting that you were only meters away, hidden from her sight like a bat in the night. She would never expect an attack like this, coming from the shadows that covered the walls like a blanket trapping in heat on a cold, winters day.

Imagine not knowing that your doom was vastly approaching, imagine not getting the gut feeling that your life was over. The floorboards barely creaked under your light footsteps, something you had been working on over time. Your breathing was even, practically silent as you further approached her unaware form.

This time you had it, you really had it, had her.

So unsuspecting, so out of the loop, the woman couldn't even see that you were about to pounce on her, what an absolute dumm-

"What are you doing?" her deep voice rung out, thick with a Russian accent. You froze behind the couch she was resting against, the delicate pages of the magazine being flipped against her fingertips. You looked like a monster trying to scare a child in their sleep, arms outstretched over your head, legs spread apart and a wicked gleam in your eyes.

Your figure shrunk under her scrutiny, arms slowly sliding to reside by your hips, "Nothing." you whispered out, voice laced with disappointment.

You could hear her start to cackle, really adding salt to the burn. She patted the spot of the couch next to her, the material springing back to life once her hand left the spot.

You reluctantly sat beside her, lips in a pout as she continued to laugh. She feigned wiping a single tear from her eye, her laughter growing quiet as you glared at her.

"Aw, you're so cute for trying to sneak up on me like that, (Y/N). But do you forget that I am a trained assassin, I could have killed you from-"

"The moment I walked into the room, I know, I know. I just wanted to scare you for once, like how you always scare me."

Yelena gave you an honest smile, an adorning twinkle in her eyes as she looked you over. You really did try your best, you thought you nailed it and she'd at least jump a little in her comfortable position.

"Weeeell, with a little bit of practise I'm sure you'll make me...jump or something. Besides, (YN), you weren't so bad. If it wasn't for your heavy breathing and the fact that I'm a supremely trained super spy, I would never have heard you coming."

Her smile widened, showing off her pearly whites. Your pouting lips soon turned around, you couldn't help but smile back, "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"Oh please, even if I was deaf I'd still be able to hear you." you both sat back against the plushness of the couch, bumping arms as your head fell back in laughter. You stayed like that for a few minutes, just relishing in the moment that was specifically made for you two.

"Now c'mon, my daddy always used to say after a failed mission we should eat." Yelena sat up from the couch, turning around to face you with her hand stretch out. The sun cast its dazzling light against the right-hand side of her face, the window behind her always knew how to make her look so angelic.

"No he didn't, you just want the macaroni I brought yesterday," you smirked, grabbing her hand in yours. She pulled you up with ease, leaning back against her heels as she stared into your eyes. Her mouth fell open, her lips forming a perfect 'O' shape. One of her hands came to rest over her chest in mock disgust, "That is so not true, he did use to say that."

"Uh-huh," you mused, already moving into the kitchen to grab the biggest pan you could find; looks like you'd have to get more macaroni in the morning at this rate.

Yelena stood beside you digging through the cupboards, the doors swung wide open, "Are you serious right now, you don't have any?"

"Any what?" you asked, stirring the heated pan. You cast your gaze to her crouched form, "Hot sauce, how do you not have hot sauce?"

"I don't like hot sauce, you already know this."

"Then what do you put on the macaroni?" she sounded so innocent but her face was laced with disdain. You shrugged your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stove, "I don't know, mayo?"

"Ugh, you're worse than Kate Bishop," Yelena mumbled, she stood from the floor, quickly dusted herself off and strolled over to her backpack beside the front door.

"You know, she only had one set of utensils, who does that?" you could hear her complaining as she went.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

We’re Batshit Crazy

@spnquotebingo​ Word count:1,609

Summary: Love isn't all that perfect sometimes love is crazy especially when the Hero is in love with said crazy.

Gotham AU

Jason Todd(Jensen Ackles) x Villan!Reader

Enemies and Lovers (none of that "to" bs)

Gotham Recasting: Batman=John, Dick Grayson(second Robin not first) =Sam ,Tim Drake=Adam, Joker(ledger style)=Lucifer, Harley Quinn=Lilith,ect.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, guns, and violence

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The mad laughter rung out into the night sky as the purple Lamborghini hit corners with violently sharp turns. "Oh puddin I just love family night!~" The pale platinum blonde giggled as the man with green dyed hair licked his smiling lips. A bubble of laughter came from the back seat he turned around to see his princess looking out the small back window. "Batsy batsy batsy" Her low/high pitched giggle caused a crazy chain reaction as the bat mobile hurried to catch up. "Always ruining our fun,huh,princess?" The clown king shifted his gray-ish blue order into the mirror grinning making the scars on his face raise into a sinister smile at the look of pure chaos in his daughter's e/c eyes. "Not tonight! Not on my birthday!!" She said as she smiled reaching under the seat to pull out a Tommy gun. Climbing to the front seat sitting on her mothers lap she leaned out the passenger window. "Go back to the Rat cave your not gonna put a downer on my weekend!" Y/n yelled shooting off round towards the tires,windshield,and headlights.

The mobile didn't seem to have a scratch as as a motorcycle pulled up beside it. Slipping back in the car the younger women pouted looking at get parents. "He called his little birdie no doubt the replacements in the car." Y/n huffed as she dug around for more fire power. "Puddin we have a visitor.~" The red mask gazed at us as he lifted a forearm pistol. Shots were fired and Joker took a hard right almost like tron the motorcycle quickly turned into a ally to avoid being hit. "Sorry Princess might have to cut tonight shot." He said licking his lips as a thump came from the roof making the youngest clown snarl her eye crazed as she shot above her as the purple car swerved wildly. "YOU'RE RUINING MY BIRTHDAY,BATS!!!" Y/n cackled madly a mixture of her parents laughed till the magazine ran out.

They got to one of their warehouses where Jokers men were armed to the teeth. The clown mask had black soulless eyes and immediately fired the moment the batmobile entered. Y/n skipped out of the purple Lamborghini she got on her tippy toes and kissed her dad on the cheek. "I got the hooded punk. Can you clip the bats wings for me...a little present?!" He laughed as he armed himself with a shotgun. "Anything for my princess." The f/c sf/c female clown skipped away knowing that the motorcycle riding vigilante was hot on her tail. That's how she found herself on the roof tops jumping the gaps as heavy footfalls followed. Her loud laugh echoed as she leaped to a smaller building hiding behind a vent the moment the brown leather jacket came into view she tackled the tall man. They were both panting as a grin pulled on the clowns lips.

Y/n POV

"Caught ya,Jay bird." I giggled pulling of the helmet his apple green eyes covered by a second mask stared at me he chuckled as his hand slipped above his head in mock surrender. "Yeah you caught me,beautiful." Leaning down I kiss him my hands pushed into his cheeks my thumb running over the scarred J. We've been dating for awhile now ever since dad kidnapped the second Robin at seventeen. I was fifteen at the time and dad had me at his side as he tortured him.I was always there to stitched him up and put burn cream after shock therapy I didn't know how we got attached maybe because he wanted to rebel a little by talking to me or someone around his age saw the same if not worse shit.

Six years ago(Y/n 15 Jason 17)

"Why are you helping me?" Looking up his head was strapped down along with his arms and legs. I shrugged my shoulders I knew who he was if I wiped off the make up and temp dyed my hair I was the honor student in the same class as him. Jason Todd anyone with eyes had a thing for him,but after removing his mask it wasn't hard to piece together who the bat fam is. "I know what my dad has planned for you Jay. This is just a band-aid on a gunshot wound and might I say that's very unhelpful." This was the first I spoke to him and it wasn't long before Dad beat him to death.

Two years later.

I sat in the back of the car as Frost drove. We just left the cemetery. "Why are we doing this,n/n." He asked looking in the rear view mirror at me. I'm seventeen now my thoughts screamed at me. Why was I trying to bring him back? "Because I crazy that why!" I giggled as we grew closer to the lazapit. He was dressed in a black suit with red tie his body sunk into the water as I waited. A loud gasp drew my attention as he shot up a white streak in his hair. "Heya sleeping beauty." Looking over in shock he lowly made his way looking like a baby deer. "I'm alive,but h-how?" His green eyes looked at me. "A Ghoul owed me a few favors I just asked to use his fountain of youth." Handing him a towel and some clothes. "Sorry about the outfit,but Arkham does have one size fits all." Jason chuckled as he started to dry off.I realized why I brought him back. I was crazy about him.

Two more years later(two years ago)

Jason wanted to stay dead he didn't go back to His dad and brother after he realized that neither of them tried and save him. It was sad to see,but it brought Jason closer to me and he started to trust me and I gave trust in return. Blood coated my hands while some was on my face. Looking at Jay some was speckled on his cheeks taking the pockets square out of the mobsters coat I wiped it off he looked down at me his arm slipped around my waist pulling me closer my breath hicked. "Will you be my girlfriend,my little jester?" A large smile grew on my face as my arms went around his neck pulling him down further. "Gladly,Jay bird." I kissed him not caring if my lipstick stained his lips and he didn't seem to care either as the kiss grew more intense. We shared our first kiss at nineteen surrounded by dead bodies as sirens and the unmistakable sound of the armed batmobile. At least he's as crazy about me as I am about him.

One year ago. (Jason POV for a sec)

I came to Bruce I hate to admit it but I needed advice about the one think he knew best. Women. It was just a couple of months ago he found out I was alive and shocker he managed to drive Dicky boy to Blüdhaven to get away from him to get his own image and not just Robin. Oh and surprise surprise when out of robins he had a spare like a tire and it's name was Tim. Nevermind that I stood across from Bruce in his home main office he had a frown on his face. "You're dating someone and its serious and I didn't know about it?" He asked trying to deduct everything. "I've been dating her ever since I came back. As strange as it might sound,but I want us to be something more." That's when the billionaire playboy stood up standing just a inch shorter then myself.

"Life is short Jason and you've experienced that first hand if you feel that both of you are perfect enough to be more then go for it." Perfect wasn't realistic nothing was ever perfect my life isn't perfect her life sure as hell isn't she's the clown princess I'm a bat son. Maybe that what makes us so good together the fact that it would have never really happened any other way life is just crazy like that.

Present

Staring into those vexing green eyes always brought me back. We're both twenty-one him being older only by a couple of months. "Happy birthday,gorgeous." His voice brought me back as my smile grew. We were standing up now he held a box wrapped in my two favorite colors. "Awe you shouldn't have." I grab it and opened it a gun was inside it was red and gold revolver it looked like my moms love/hate gun,but it said King/Queen. Looking at Jay I reached to hug him when suddenly he dropped to one knee pulling out a box with a beautiful f/c ring and ruby gem. "This feels over due. You took care of me when I was considered enemy number one. You brought me back from the grave when my own family didn't try. And this might sound stupid,but I had a crush on you in middle school you were one of the only people that didn't give me pity after Bruce adopted a street kid." He licked his lips as he gave of a small smile. "Together we are far from perfect, but we are good. You complete me...Y/n M/n Napier become my queen?" My eyes glossed over with tears my make up running down the pale foundation. "Oh my god of course!!!" I jumped into his arms hugging him tightly before letting him slip on the ring. "I love you." "I love you more crazy." I chuckle it sounded watery in my throat. "If I'm crazy then that makes two of us. You wanted to marry me." Yep we're both batshit crazy.

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A/n: Quote= We are far from perfect, but we are good. ~Supernatural

Is it just me or does Jensen look fucking hot as Red Hood?! I'm mean he's definitely a reason to move to Gotham

Well first crossover AU in my bingo card

[nikethestatue]

Hi!

I really love your writing. Not to sound like a creep but I've read and reread all your stories multiple times. I think honestly no one writes romantic moments like you and may I ask you to write a one off with Azriel braiding Elain's hair? My birthday is coming up and it would be a gift. You don't have to but if you can it would be amazing.

Happy upcoming birthday, darling Anon! Thank you for your compliments and here you go!

The Braid

It was an early morning when Azriel arrived at the River Estate.

Rhys wanted an early meeting, but it was barely after 5 o’clock in the morning and as he entered the empty, quiet mansion, Azriel remembered that not everyone was as early a riser as he was.

Elain was. The only one to rise like the sun, and glow each morning with her special light.

Before everything had gone to shit, he secretly craved a glimpse of that light every morning. When he was feeling bold, he’d actually join her for breakfast, for her first cup of tea, and his first cup of coffee. Just the two of them in the kitchen, no one to interfere or gawk. Their sacred, private moments together. She’d ask him about his previous day and his plans, and they’d talk about the news, and sometimes, she’d giggle and hand him the newest gossip magazine, and they’d discuss all the naughty happenings of the Velaris rich and famous. With Elain, it didn’t feel awkward and he didn’t need to put on his mask of indifference, for she would not mock him or make fun of him, if she knew that he enjoyed reading the tabloids. She did as well and it was their little secret—both were invested in the development of a potential affair of a prominent actress from the Night Court and a married Prince from Day Court.

Azriel loved supplying Elain with little tidbits of information that he learned throughout the day, known only to him, and then watch how she’d cover her mouth and how her beautiful eyes grew wide when he whispered the latest developments to her. It was so perfectly normal, so tender and pure that he even allowed himself the pointless fantasies of how one day, this may take place in their own home, not his brother’s. He imagined how he and Elain would wake up together, after a night of her sleeping draped over him, her breath soothing and peaceful on his chest, every curve of hers pressed into him. They’d make breakfast together and talk and laugh and the kitchen would smell of coffee and pastry. It would be the smell of their home. And sometimes, or rather often, he thought of making love to her as well—maybe in their kitchen, maybe in the garden, in their bed…He thought about it a lot. But he was just as happy thinking of how Elain would be his home—to greet him in the morning with her luminous smile and the wave of her honey-golden hair and to greet him in the evening, when he returned to her and wrapped his arms around her, his troubles forgotten.

Today, even the kitchen was silent. No Elain to greet him.

Yes, it’s been tense and awkward between them since the disaster that was the last Solstice. Gone were the mornings of quiet laughter, coffee and gossiping. Gone were the moments of her squeezing his fingers in reassurance, before he stood up to leave. Her little way of wishing him a good day. Her promise to think of him throughout the day, and then send him off with a soft smile. Nowadays, they never spent time together, alone. If there was breakfast, there was at least six people in the room, and chaos.

He walked down the hallway and then made his way up the stairs, to his room, which he hardly ever used.

His keen hearing picked up the sounds of whispering and quiet laughter first. Then, Elain’s scent flooded his senses and he paused in the hallway. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar and before he knew what he was doing, he was peering into the bedroom. His shadows floated around him, concealing him when he forgot to hide himself.

Elain was seated in front of her vanity, the first rays of morning sun gilding her in gold and bronze. Cerridwen was standing behind, holding the mass of Elain’s hair in one hand and a brush in another. They were laughing, carefree, and Azriel was happy for both of them—that they, and Nuala, found each other and became such good friends. He was forever grateful to the twins for their kindness and for allowing the bruised, aching and traumatized girl into their little world. The half-wraiths did not encourage closeness and only considered him as a friend, even if they technically served him and Rhysand. But they accepted Elain and the three became true friends and companions.

He held his breath, needing to watch. Wanting. Wanting so much of what he couldn’t have. Wanting to take Cerridwen’s place. Wanting to feel Elain’s smooth silken skin against his lips. Wanting her to lean into him, trusting and loving. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting.

“Azriel.”

His name on Elain’s lips started him. He actually flinched.

She never called him by his name. Ever. As if it was too intimate and would bring down even more barriers between the two of them. As if they both knew that his name would be the one she’d moan in her pleasure, writhing against him. His name would be the name she’d whisper when she spoke the words of love. Instead of his name, she always offered him a special smile that she reserved only for him.

“Azriel,” she said again.

He couldn’t read the tone of her voice.

It jolted him. That somehow, they’d grown so far apart that he couldn’t read her expression, and didn’t understand her mood.

Cerridwen stepped back and turned around, looking at him. That look was inscrutable as well, but something in it told him that it would be alright…that he could step inside and he’d be welcome.

So he did.

He entered Elain’s bedroom.

Her jasmine and honey scented bedroom.

Terrible idea.

Of all the bad ideas he’d ever had, this was by far the worst.

Standing in Elain’s bedroom, her bed not even made yet, her naked body barely concealed beneath a flimsy nightgown, her hair streaming about her like a river of molten bronze.

“I shall go see about breakfast,” Cerridwen announced quietly, and Azriel made a move to stop her, but she slipped through his fingers, the naughty wraith.

And then it was just the two of them. Elain was watching him in the mirror, making no moves, quiet.

He approached. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t right.

But before he knew what he was doing, he moved.

He just moved and his scarred fingers were in her hair, threading gently through the softness, trying not to snag any. He couldn’t help himself. It felt so good. She was next to him again, and for a moment, he could imagine that it was just the two of them. That she was his.

Silently, he picked up the brush and ran it through the hair, down, down, down, and watched Elain’s beautiful throat bob, her chest rising and falling softly, her plump, lovely breasts swelling against the material. He noticed it all. Every move and sigh and hitch. But he said nothing and just brushed her hair.

He didn’t know what compelled him, but he divided the locks into three equal parts and wondered if he would remember how to plait. He did. Elain still said nothing, and just watched him with a tormented hunger in her eyes, as her cheeks darkened and bloomed with a deep blush. Slowly, he crossed and tightened the strands of her hair in his hands, remembering to be gentle and not tug, but he didn’t think that Elain would mind if he tugged, if he wrapped the hair around his fist and pulled her head back, if he feasted on her long neck, if he bit and marked her.

But he just braided her hair.

Wordlessly, she handed him a blue ribbon, and surprising himself, he managed to weave it into the strands before securing the braid with a knot and even making a little bow. Yes, he the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court, had tied a little blue bow at the end of Elain Archeron’s braid.

He let go of the braid that tumbled down her back.

“Until tomorrow then,” she said at last.

Until tomorrow then.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, Azriel smiled.

[13eyond13]

Hello! I've recently seen a post about how Light often does something heteronormative when he wants to avoid suspicion. And that gave me a thought, bc it was said as a joke, but i think there's some truth to it?? I mean, he was dating a girl during Raye Penbern situation, looking at hetero porn magazines to appear less suspicious to L, dating Misa etc. Do you think that maybe it can be his internalized homophobia? (like, maybe he thinks that a straight person is by definition more "normal"?)

Haha, I know what you mean, and I think this is a huge part of what made him feel relatable to me when I was younger and living in a pretty strict/traditional/heteronormative/homophobic environment and closeted myself (I didn't even realize I was gay yet the first time I watched it, but so much of what he does around his dating life still resonated with me strongly nonetheless... like I literally did the same bookshelf hiding trick with some trashy novels I wasn't allowed to have before I even watched DN, ahahaha).

I think that since Light wasn't intentionally written to be gay that it's probably not so much internalized homophobia as just him trying very hard to appear like your average "good citizen" who is well-liked and leading a very ordinary "respectable" life. He wants to both blend in and to also seem pristine to everybody at the same time, and so appearing to have a robust (and straight) dating life benefits him for giving him convenient alibis, and for helping his actual Kira followers like Misa more easily blend in with the mix. But you can definitely read Light's excessive womanizing as cover for his true sexuality pretty easily as well; especially because he has such a traditional family, seemingly so little genuine interest in women, and so much constant ambiguous tension and emotional intrigue between himself and other male characters like L. That being said, I do think that if he were gay and trying to deny or hide it that he would probably be doing incredibly similar things to keep up the façade.

I have to admit I am not a HUGE fan of how the fandom turns the idea of Light being gay into the biggest joke of all time at his expense, because oftentimes it really smacks of homophobia the way it's worded (like him being gay is a big flaw and he should be mocked immensely for it... or for being in the closet/in denial about it instead of out, which isn't that much fun to hear when you're a gay person who struggled with the idea of not being straight for a really long time due to internalized homophobia yourself). I remember how much those jokes were almost always snide and derogatory comments made by straight people as well as gay people back in the day, and it hasn't actually changed all that much in tone even though the fandom now seems to be very openly LGBT+ positive in 2021. Light hiding his Kira identity and all the stress and anxiety and cognitive dissonance he experiences definitely has some strong parallels to what it feels like to be repressed or closeted. And so it's really easy to identify with those sneaky double-life leading behaviours that are unfortunately so familiar to people who have had to hide their true sexuality from themselves or from others in some way. For me the joking about this always comes from a gentler place of "I remember that feel" sort of solidarity with Light over the experience of once being repressed and closeted, and I think a lot of times that's what it is for other people making fun of it now too... but hopefully it doesn't also add to other fans feeling even more internalized shame about the thought of being gay themselves. Because unfortunately that's maybe what happens sometimes when people see that kind of thing laughed at over and over again.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Seven

A/N: this is kinda raunchy. I'm not sorry.

Word count: 4K

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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1981

"...Shh." Nikki chuckles out in a smile, his hand over my mouth as he comes up for a second so I can calm down. "If your parents hear you, I'm fucked."

"I'm sorry, you've been going down on me the past hour, I'm really sensetive right now, and I thought you didn't care." I whisper, quoting him from something he's said before.

He just smirks.

"I thought about it and decided if we get caught, I won't be able to do this..." He tugs my nipple with his teeth for a moment, causing me to gasp out. "...or this..." he pushes two fingers into my slick cunt and I arch my back, the delicious friction causing my body to crave more. "...or this." He goes back to where he was, his tongue working at my swollen clit.

I take in a sharp breath, trying to keep from moaning too loud as he devours me and every last drop of sticky-sweet running out of me.

"Oh, fuck, daddy." I whine out, my hips bucking up, grinding against his feasting mouth, only causing him to move his tongue faster and more deliberately.

He hums at the sound, his dark eyes glancing up at me, his hands keeping my thighs spread wide open as he sucks at my clit, making my eyes roll back, my toes curl, and a wanton moan leaves my lips as my pussy tenses and relaxes repeatedly, wanting to be filled and abused.

Nikki finishes licking the cum from between my legs, before laying beside me as my exhausted body tries to wind down.

"You don't want me to do anything for you?" I ask him, taking deep breaths, blinking slowly at him.

He shakes his head, giving me a little smile, before pulling the covers up to my chin so I don't have to.

"No, Viv, getting to eat you for over an hour straight is repayment enough." He chuckles and my face burns red.

"Quit saying it like that." I cover my face with my hands.

"That's what I was doing, was it not?"

"I guess, but you don't have to be so..." I wrinkle my nose for a second. "...I don't know."

"Oh, so you can call me 'daddy' but when I call it 'eating', it's the end of the world?" He looks at me and I narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I deny his accusation and he raises his brows.

"Oh, please, Viv, you scream it out like a bitch in heat almost everytime we fuck around."

"Fine, then, I'll stop." I shrug and he snaps his attention to me.

"I didn't say I didn't like it, it's just amusing to hear it from you, of all people, Saint Viv."

"Shut up, Devil Spawn." I shove at his arm.

"Ow." He complains, rubbing his hand over where I hit him, pretending to be hurt.

I roll my eyes and he mocks me, causing me to shove at his arm again.

"Do it again, see what happens." He threatens and I, spitefully, do it again.

I don't have time to react before he's snatching me onto him, grasping my wrists in his hands as he tickles at my stomach, causing me to double over and try to keep from waking my parents.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I whisper yell and he stops, allowing me to catch my breath and he laughs arrogantly, his rough palms rubbing up and down my thighs, calmly, his smile slowly starting fade as he looks up at me.

"What is it?" I ask him, self-consciously pulling the covers back around me to cover my chest.

"You're beautiful." He says lowly, his hand coming up to brush my red hair from my face.

"Don't be weird." I say in regards to whatever the hell is happening between us.

We've only messed around a handful of times and I've been trying not to get attached because there's no point. I don't need him bullshitting me just for the hell of it.

"I'm being honest, Viv. You are."

"So is every other girl you have fun with. We're already fooling around anytime either of us wants it, you can stop trying to tell me nice stuff so I'll let you between my legs, Nikki." I laugh it off, but the sting of the truth strikes through my body.

"The other girls are nice to look at, but are grade-A hangers-on. They could give less of a fuck as long they're getting boned by a rockstar, they don't care." He replies.

Apparently the look I give him is one of doubt.

"I'm always right." He states sarcastically with a toothy grin. "So if I say you--despite being a pain in the ass--are beautiful, then there's no arguing about it." He adds and I try not to make my overjoyed smile obvious, instead leaning down, pressing my lips to his.

1987

"Another vehicle, Nikki, are you kidding me?!" I scream as he simultaneously says, "don't fucking start, Viv!"

He can't be serious.

"Do you not remember that notice we got about the $5,000 a day in heroin being spent, Nikki, or did that just fly over your head? We have bills, we have have things that we need to prioritize and what do you do?! Buy another car!"

He just ignores me, grabbing a paper bag from the fridge.

I give up on fighting, tears of frustration rolling down my cheeks as I grab my car keys to just get the hell out of here.

He had gotten a brand new Mercedes Benz after I had asked him to wait until we got more money from the album and the tour. He decided we had enough money and went for it.

I angrily wrap packing tape around the cardboard box packed full of Steven's things, seeing him flinch each time the tape let out a squeak from me manhandling it.

"You good, Viv?" He asks me cautiously and I glare at him.

"I married a junkie who's mission is to damn near give me a heart attack anyway he possibly can whether it's with his drug abuse or simply spending money we don't necessarily have." I state. "So, no, Stevie. I could be better."

"Oh...I'm sorry." He mumbles.

"It's called D-I-V-O-R-C-E. They're perfect in situations such as your's and could really benefit you and him." Izzy sarcastically let's out, raising his brows and I slowly turn to look at him with a death glare. "Or suffer, that's a good option, too." He shrugs.

"We don't want that." I state as Duff comes in the living room from the kitchen.

"Not what I've heard." Izzy scoffs back. "Sixx talks when he's smacked out."

"And what exactly does 'Sixx' say?" I ask, raising my brows.

I can feel Steven making motions to Izzy from behind me, and I turn to look at him only to see him pretending to rub the bottom of his jaw with his knuckles.

It's obvious he was just running his hand against his neck in a "stop" motion to Izzy.

"Uh, n-nothing." Duff puts in as an unsettling tension settles in, like the three of them are on a level of understanding that I'm not aware of.

"Guys, seriously, what does he say?" I ask.

"It's not really what he says as much as what he does." Izzy let's out carefully and Duff glares at him.

"What does he do?"

"Cries." Duff states.

"Yeah." Steven adds.

"Like a little bitch." Izzy sighs.

I look at them for a moment before deciding to not ask anything else.

"Okay, Steven, here." I finish taping his box of stuff.

"Thanks, Viv." He replies, picking the box up, and suddenly every nude magazine he owns is spilling onto the floor from the bottom of the box.

"Aw, dude, that wasn't suppose to happen." Steven states and I hand the tape to Duff when he offers to retape it, before plopping down beside Izzy.

The difference in Fred, Mick, Duff, Steven, Izzy, Slash and Axl keeping the Vanity situation from me, and Tommy, Vince, Doc, and Tansy, keeping it from me was that Vince, Doc, Tommy and Tansy were protecting Nikki.

Everyone else thought they were protecting me, instead they would constantly down Nikki about it, trying to get him to stop his shit.

It would have been nice for someone to tell me instead of having me looking like an absolute dumbass in front of God and everyone.

But I can see why they would think I couldn't handle that information at that time.

"Baby, c'mon, Tommy and I leave in a couple hours." Nikki pleads with me over the phone.

"Okay, so just days ago I was a 'psycho cunt' and you bought a brand new car a couple days ago just to spite me, and now I'm 'baby' again?" I question him.

"We fucked last night, Viv." He states and I sigh.

"We have sex because we're horny, Nikki, not because either of us are sorry for whatever we fight about." I point out and he groans.

"Just get down here and tell me 'bye', please?" He asks and I let out a breath.

"Fine, I'll be down there in a few minutes." I tell him, rolling my eyes.

How Nikki's logic worked:

Sex = apology.

I had accepted that, but a few months into '87, I realized sex didn't fix anything. It just swept it under the rug and allowed the both of us to pretend nothing was wrong.

The rug was starting to have so much dirt swept under it, it wasn't even laying flat on the floor anymore.

I shut the door of my car, Nikki waiting for me outside in his sunglasses, despite it being night out, his cocky smirk plastered on his lips at the fact that I came when he snapped his fingers, like always.

He holds a cassette out to me and I raise a brow, unamused.

"An apology for being an asshole." He tells me.

On the label reads "You're All I Need."

"Remember that song I wanted to write for you?" He asks and I nod, not necessarily knowing how to feel.

"I'll see you when you get back." I let out, giving a tight smile, opening my car door but he shuts it quickly, turning me to face him.

"That's it? No 'thank you', no 'goodbye' kiss, no nothing?" He questions me.

"I'm still upset over our fight Nikki."

"We always have bullshit fights, Viv. We say shit we don't mean all the time."

"Okay, but we're getting too comfortable saying hurtful things to each other, are we not?" I point out, and he sighs, shaking his head a little.

"We tried therapy, it didn't work, so. I don't know what to tell you."

"We went to a handful of sessions, Nikki, before you refused to go after Nona passed away." I remind him.

"Because we were both miserable in those sessions."

"Well, it's nearly one year later and we're still miserable." I state and he furrows his brows.

"Being married to me makes you miserable?" He hisses out.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just mean--"

"--Great, well, I'll see you in five days." He cuts me short, hurt over what I said, stepping to the door.

"That's not what I meant, Nikki." I follow after him and grasp at his wrist. "I meant the both of us are getting more and more unhappy."

"I'm fine." He pipes. "I'm sorry if you're antidepressant stopped working or something but I'm fantastic, Viv."

"You're fantastic?"

"Yep."

People who are doing "fantastic" don't self-medicate but okay.

"I'll do better." He says to me, smiling down at me reassuringly. "Alright?"

I nod, and he looks me up and down for a moment before catching my lips with his.

His Jack flavored tongue meets mine, eliciting a soft hum from me as his hands hold at my waist, my fingers lacing in his hair.

We take a few steps back and I feel my legs hit the front of my Corvette. I drop the tape to push his jacket off his shoulders when he nudges for me to sit back on the hood of my car, already knowing where this is going.

His lips trail down my neck, his teeth nipping at my hardened nipples through my dress, causing me to giggle and moan simultaneously, my fingers running through his teased hair.

He stands up straight to unbuckle his belt, the sight of his prick desperate to get out of his pants has a wave of pleasure sweeping up my back, my hand pulling my dress up to run over the soft fabric of my panties, the toe of my heel gently traveling up the inside of his leather covered thigh.

He stops me just before I can trace over the bulge in his pants, his hand gripping my ankle, his fingers of his other hand untying the lace of his pants.

I sit up, reaching my hand out to free his cock, but he grabs at my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

"No, no." He wags his finger at me with a slick smile and my mouth waters when he pulls himself from his pants, precum already beading at his tip.

He sees me eyeing it, purposely wrapping his fist around his shaft to jerk of a couple of times, causing even more of the liquid to leak from him.

"Go ahead have a taste because every last drop is going in that pretty pussy so you remember who's you are while I'm gone."

My core tenses up, evidence of my arousal wetting my panties at his words and I don't hesitate to swipe my thumb across his tip, enjoying his jaw tensing at the contact, before making a show of sucking my thumb into my mouth to lick it off.

He stares at me and I blink up at him, taking my thumb from my mouth, waiting for him to make the next move.

And oh, does he.

He's impatiently pushing my dress to my hips and yanking my panties off, holding at one of my legs as his fingers trail between my legs to my clit.

I let out a harsh breath when he lightly runs the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nerves, watching my face.

I have to bite my lip in order to keep from cursing at him teasing me, and he licks his lips before taking his dick in his hand, rubbing the head against my clit, watching as my eyes close and a whimper leaves my lips.

I feel my pulse in my core, and the ache of utter need has me giving him my best "fuck me" eyes I can muster up.

"Does my little slut wanna be fucked?" He asks and I nod, looking at him with my eyes half-open.

I shudder when he drags his tip to my hungry cunt, slowly, agonizingly, sliding into me.

My back arches as he gives me the time to feel his girth stretching me, and he grins, his head falling back, his hands pushing my thighs against the hood of the car.

"I will never get over how fucking tight you are." He tells me in an almost moan, pulling back out again and slowly sliding back in, time looking down to see himself thrusting in and out of me.

"So good." I let out softly, my hands pinching at my nipples through my dress and he starts to pick up the pace, causing me to gasp and moan with every thrust as he goes deep into me, hitting my cervix.

I remember where we're at and I put my hand over my mouth to keep from drawing attention from the street incase anyone can hear me.

Nikki doesn't like that.

"Keep your fucking hand down." He orders, pulling my hand from my mouth. "I want them to know you're getting fucked, I want them to know who's fucking cock you're taking inch for fucking inch." He states, and I moan quietly at his words, still not wanting to draw attention.

My walls tighten and loosen around him as he continues to drive into me, my sounds of pleasure getting louder and louder with my loss of control and Nikki's determination.

His fingers quickly go back and fort against my clit, causing me to let out an unexpected cry, my hand holding at his wrist to try to get him to stop but he won't.

"Good girl." He praises me for not trying to hide my pleasure, grunting at the feeling of my pussy tightening around him.

The wet sound of him moving in and out of me mixed with my cries and he cursing fills my ears.

"Harder, Nikki, please." I beg, a masochistic part of me not wanting to walk right for a couple days.

I don't have to ask twice, his hand's around my throat, his fingers roughly stimulating my clit while his prick mercilessly starts pounding into my weeping cunt, only causing me to moan the best that I can with him choking me.

The two of us look at each other in pure ecstacy and I smugly grin before opening my mouth, sticking my tongue out.

His hand grasps at my throat a little tighter as he leans forward and spits in my mouth, only letting his grip loosen briefly so I can swallow it.

Our bodies are now drenched in sweat and I'm growing closer and closer, squeezing around him so tightly I think he's having to force himself not to finish before I do.

I'm probably looking up at him like he's a god, mesmerized by the sheen of sweat covering his chest, his thumb of his hand around my throat softly swiping the skin of my neck, sweetly contradicting his roughness.

"Oh, daddy, I'm gonna come." I gasp out. It's been a while since I've called him that in bed and it's only motivating him to go harder. "Fuck!" I mewl, squeezing my eyes shut as I tighten around him even more before my orgasm hits and my pussy's spasming in hopes of getting every last bit of his load.

He groans from the sensation before I feel him push back into me, forcing himself against my cervix, hot cum coating the inside of me.

"What the fuck?!" Tommy screams in a high pitch, and Nikki and I startle, looking in the direction of the door to see Tommy and Vince standing there, just walking out, but being met with Nikki inside me, with his hand around my throat and me moaning.

I'm horrified, Tommy's traumatized, Vince is probably wishing he had his camera, and Nikki's...well...

"Hahaha!" Nikki let's out, pulling my dress down my legs so I don't flash Tommy or Vince. "Sorry." He says next, tucking himself back into his pants, picking his jacket up off the ground as I scramble to get off the car, wincing at the feeling Nikki's cum about to start running out of me.

My face is bright red and Tommy looks like he's about to cry.

"I came out here to tell you 'bye' and-and..." he can't finish speaking, disgust on his face.

"Nikki was telling you 'bye', too." Vince laughs out and I glare at him.

"I'm sorry we fool around, T-bone, jeez." Nikki chuckles.

"'Fooling around' is a blowjob. This," he grabs his own throat and pulls his own hair. "Is something I don't want to see Viv in."

"She's the one who's into it." Nikki argues and my eyes bug as I feel even more embarrassed.

"Nikki, what the hell?!" I ask him as Tommy looks even more worried.

"Aww, man, this is great." Vince sighs out, grinning.

"Viv, I love you, I'll see you in a few days." Tommy let's out, avoiding eye contact with me.

I don't want to face him at the moment either.

"Love you, Tommy, bye." I reply as he heads to their car that just pulled up.

I grab the tape from the ground and my panties, and Nikki takes the skimpy undergarment from my hand and puts it in his jacket pocket.

I just look at him.

"What?" He asks. "It's a token of your affection to remind me of you when I miss you on those cold, lonely nights."

"You'll be gone less than a week, Nikki."

"You want me to think of you or not?" He points out and I can't hide my smile, chuckling at his bullshit.

His eyes shift to the tape in my hand, and his face falls for a second as if he regrets giving it to me.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, um...just...don't take lyrics too seriously." He tells me and I raise my brows.

"What?"

The car honks the horn and he looks at them as Tommy's standing out of the sunroof.

"Dude, c'mon, we're gonna miss the flight!" He tells Nikki.

Nikki turns back to me, giving me a little smile, kissing me sweetly.

"I'll call you when we get to the hotel." He assures me, kissing me again.

"Okay, be careful." I say.

"I'm sorry, Viv, alright?" He says next, and I think he's apologizing for the "Wild Side" ordeal and buying a new car we could barely afford.

I'm about to say "I am, too" but he cuts me off, kissing me yet again.

"See ya, Sixx." He whispers, smirking to me.

"See ya, Sixx." I reply in the same tone.

With one last kiss, he's telling Vince 'bye' and making his way to the car.

I rub my lips together, noticing Vince has this amused look on his face as I step to my car.

"What, Vince?" I ask.

"Nothing. Enjoy the song." He tells me before walking to his bike.

I go home, clean myself up, change and head to the Franklin Plaza where Duff, Axl, Izzy, Slash and Steven are staying currently.

The second Steven opens the door, I'm waving the tape.

"He doesn't hate me!" I exclaim, handing the tape to Axl--who bet $50 that Nikki and I would divorce this year--as he's smoking his cigarette.

"'You're All I Need'." He reads the title, looking at Duff and Izzy who're on one of the suits' couches. "What, is it an ode to heroin?" He asks and I cut my eyes at him.

"Seriously, man?" Slash questions him, unamused.

"No, Axl, it's not." I state.

"Well, let's listen to it." Stevie excitedly says.

Soon enough we have it playing, hearing a beautiful piano ballad backed with Mick's guitar, Nikki's bass and Tommy's drums.

"The blade of my knife

Faced away from your heart

Those last few nights

It turned and sliced you apart

This love that I tell

Now feels lonely as hell

From this padded prison cell"

The lyrics of the first verse sound as with each passing second, everyone's looking more and more confused, glancing at each other while I try to make sense of whatever metaphor he's using.

"So many times I said

You'd only be mine

I gave my blood and my tears

And loved you cyanide

When you took my lips

I took your breath

Sometimes love's better off dead"

He can't be saying what it sounds like he's saying.

"You're all I need make you only mine

I love you so I set you free

I had to take your life

You're all I need, you're all I need

And I loved you but you didn't love me."

"Umm...Viv...I don't think this is about how much he loves you." Izzy speaks out.

"Laid out cold

Now we're both alone

But killing you helped me keep you home."

"I-Is he singing about killing me?!" I ask, nearly at a loss for words.

"I guess it was bad

Cause love can be sad

But we finally make the news."

"This bastard is singing about killing me!"

"Dude, didn't he actually try to kill you?" Steven asks me and I raise my brows.

"Tied up smiling

I thought you were happy

Never opened you--"

Duff stops the tape, snatching it from the player before tossing it on the floor and stomping it to pieces with his cowboy boot.

There's a long, long silence between all of us, and I force myself not to cry in front of all of them.

"I guess that fifty bucks is still on the table, then?" Axl shatters the silence.

[80s-roger]

EX - Roger Taylor {pt 6}

click here for the previous chapters!

word count 2,3k

your opinion really matters to me!

new chapter soon!

on with the story!

studio 6:34 pm

"So she agreed?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, she had no other choice." Roger nodded while setting the drums up.

"Well, fingers crossed he won't do anything until the conference. It's the day after tomorrow." Brian said while taking a sip of his tea.

"I know right Brian. If he does though? He will definitely say that Y/N cheated on me. This is how it will be presented at the press. He will definitely hide himself, won't he? All he wants to do, is embarrass her." Roger said in despair.

"He will hide himself. He's not that stupid to expose himself. But he's the one who will sell the tape. Suspicions will go to him anyways..." Brian thought.

"I bet he knows some guys there. Or else he'd be already exposed." Roger grabbed the drums sticks, playing with them nervously.

Suddenly, Deaky came inside the lounge. He was carrying some papers. New song.

"Are you talking about y/n or the new single?"  He asked.

"Y/N's issue is more interesting than the upcoming album. You know we hate disco." Brian explained.

"I understand that y/n's and Roger's life will be at risk for sometime but it will be forgotten. However, according to the new album, it's a new vibe Freddie and I wanted to invest in. It's fifty fifty so disco gets in and you have no other choice but play." Deaky smiled and gave them the score and the lyrics of Backchat.

"What the hell is this, are you dissing me?" Brian asked after reading the lyrics.

"That's your idea." Roger mocked him while smoking and Brian looked at both of them annoyed.

"John come on, you don't really mean all this, do you?" Brian asked confused. Deaky raised his eyebrow. "Damn you John. I'm forced to play your diss track about me? And I have a guitar solo?" He acted insanely.

"I'm sorry Brian, we are a band. We should start playing it." Deaky smiled.

"Fine, I won't use my red special. Neither at the future music video." The three of them stood up. "But where's Freddie?" He asked.

"He is outside, talking on the phone." Deaky said pointing at the exit.

"I'll go tell him we're starting." Roger said and exited the lounge room.

Accidentally Roger, misheard Freddie's conversation with a press guy. Possibly, a photographer. Roger had to eavesdrop. The issue seemed familiar with his personal life.

"He sold an uncensored video? To whom?" He asked shocked. Roger knew it was over. "At your company? Today?" Freddie sounded upset. "Fuck..." He groaned. "How am I supposed to tell him? Did he give any personal details of him?" Roger had to step in. He wanted to know.

"Freddie who are you talking to?" He asked furious. Freddie made him the hang on a minute gesture.

"Do we have much time left? Until the day after tomorrow?" He asked. "Hmm... I see. I have a recording now. We'll talk again, darling. Thanks for letting me know." Freddie hang up the phone, facing Roger.

"Who was it?" Roger asked. "I'm not playing games Freddie." He turned red.

"Wow darling, relax. It was a friend of mine, who works at the press magazines. There was Derek at his office a quarter ago, giving a tape and saying that there's Roger Taylor's girlfriend in there." Freddie had to say the truth, what he was exactly been told.

"Fucking fuck..." Roger moaned, pulling his hair.

"My friend unfortunately wasn't alone at the time he received it, but with a paparazzi, editing the photos for tomorrow's issue. Which means..." He moved his head disappointed.

"They saw the video oh my god. My baby's out there getting watched. I can't stand the idea of her-" Roger covered his head and Freddie pulled him closer.

"Hey darling it's okay, it's okay... He'll try to delay it. The good thing is, he didn't give personal informations. Which means you can invade, saying it was you." He tried to calmed him down but it wouldn't help.

"How much?" Roger asked furious. "How much did he sell it?" He was afraid.

"He sold the tape a hundred thousand, saying it will be the scandal of the year. The drummer's girlfriend with a guy." Freddie said.

"My future fiance doesn't deserve to be sold like a whore around the world." Roger tightened his fists.

"Fiance?" Fred asked eager.

"I want to marry her in the near future. But I want to be engaged at first. I kind of mentioned it during our morning fight but the words flew like the wind. She probably doesn't want to get married." Roger stared at the ground.

"Rog, are you serious? She is dying for it. You have no idea how many times she's told me that." Freddie eagerly said, waiting to walk the church's stairs soon.

"Fine. I'll find a way to propose to her. I hope we won't fight again. We literally didn't see each other yesterday for an entire day. She was mad at me, nonetheless, you know.. I was at her place by midnight and she wasn't mad at me anymore. You get it?" Roger giggled.

"That girl has such a fierce temperament. Tell me it happened the way she likes it at least. Make my pal satisfied." Freddie jokes and Roger wanted to be honest with him.

"What has she told you? She never really told me how she likes it." Roger tried to recall if you ever told him about it.

"Oh darling she looks so innocent at the outside but she's so wild at the bedroom. Hasn't she told you she likes it rough?" Freddie whispered.

"Jesus Fred, we're talking about my girl."Roger's eyes got wide. "Yeah it was rough." He coughed, trying to hide the clear sentence.

"Guys what are you doing so long? It's been ages! We have the diss track ready!" John yelled from the studio.

"On our way!" Freddie yelled back and they both walked towards the studio room. "That's my favourite couple, working hard. But I can't accept the fact you fought again this morning." He teased Roger and everyone was finally at their position.

Time passed fast until the recording was done for today and the boys were about to leave the studio.

"Wanna catch up at the pub two blocks from here?" Brian asked. "I can't believe I played for a diss track about me. I need to forget it." He added and everyone in the room laughed.

"Sure, let's do this." John agreed.

"Yes darlings, count me in." Fred said too. "Roger?" He asked. The blonde, was thinking it for a long before answering.

"Not this time... I have to go over y/n's, it's hard now. I will join you another time." He eventually refused but the boys could show compassion.

Roger drove over your apartment. He saw the lights turned off, which caused him wonder if you left. He used the elevator to reach the forth floor and finally he was standing in front of your door, knocking it patiently. You opened the door a minute later, with your eyes almost closed. However, you knew it would be Roger because that's the usual time he comes home. Home. You don't live together yet, but he's always at your place. It was 11 pm, you were so tired to stay awake and wait for him.

"Hey, come in..." You said while yawning.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you up. My keys for your home are at mine's." He apologised and closed the door for you. He didn't forget to kiss you.

He followed you to your bedroom, you instantly laid yourself back in your bed, waiting for your man to lay too. He removed his clothes, staying at his boxer.

"I missed you." He said when he made himself comfortable at your bed.

"Missed you too..." You said while trying to get your sleep back.

"What time did you fall asleep?" He asked and placed his one hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"An hour ago. It was exhausting today. He got me running like a fool outside the company. I believe he did that on purpose." You were saying without being easily understood, since your mouth was placed at the pillow. However, he could clearly hear you because he was focusing on your voice.

"If he fires you, I'll take care of you. I want to get engaged with you." He suddenly said and your head popped up from the pillows like a pop corn.

"Are you serious?" You asked losing your sleep. "A- are you doing it on purpose?" You asked.

"Of course not. I just don't want to call you a girlfriend anymore. I want you to be my fiance. And later my wife." He smiled at you, you felt the butterflies in your stomach making a huge party.

"Oh my God baby, I love you so much... That's wonderful of you to say!" You teared a bit and he hugged you.

"I love you too and everything we're going through is just temporary. Focus on our future happiness love." He kissed you and both got the spoon position, as usual, you were the little spoon. "I bloody love you. I don't even know what I'd do without you." He confessed to your ear.

"Probably sleeping with chicks, like I would do too." You cynically said.

"Ay babe, you don't want to start this, do you?" He teased you.

"No I don't, because I'm sleepy..." you yawned and he kissed your neck gently.

"It's dark and I can still see some marks from last night. Better cover them for tomorrow." he said while looking at your neck.

"I've been knew Roger. They were there since last night. Goodnight..." You covered yourself with the mattress, dreaming the day he'd propose you.

the next day

You woke up by the sound of your phone ringing at the living room. It wasn't even eight yet... You were scared or tried to stay calm thinking it would be Freddie asking for Roger, who was sleeping next to you with his leg crossing yours and his hand wrapped around your chest. You had to move him without giving any shit if he'd be awaken.

"Shit Roger, I have to pick it up." You made fast moves and he woke up. You looked at him, staring at you with terror, like he knew what the phone call was about. He got out of the bed, following you outside. "Yeah, don't follow me around like I'm a poodle." You told him when he stood behind you.

"Well I need to know who's on your phone." he frantically said, totally awakened by now.

"Don't get paranoid, Rog..." you said. "It must be Fred, asking for you." you tried to joke yourself too.

"Fine, just pick it up!" He said annoyed and you finally did it.

"Hello?" You answered. "Good morning Freddie. You want Roger?" You asked Fred while looking at your boyfriend.

"Y/N the sex tape is leaked. The press knows everything but the guy. Derek couldn't say it was him or anybody else. Just... Just calm down okay?" His voice was trembling and so were your legs. You locked eyes with Roger who was staring at you with his eyes wide opened.

"Oh my fucking God..." You murmured and you covered your mouth with your hands. Roger came closer to you, knowing exactly what the phone call was for.

"Y/N it will be over, our conference is tomorrow, we'll cover it!" Freddie tried to reassured you.

"How the hell can you cover a video which is out to the public right now? My life is fucking ruined right now! I won't go at my work today! You know why? Because I'm fucking fired! They warned me, no more photos of me at the magazines or I am fired! Now not only are there pictures of me out there but a video of a drunk y/n, getting fucked!" You screamed at the mic, in which Fred could excellently hear you crying. Roger grabbed the phone from your hands.

"Fred I will be late today or not even come there. Okay? Bye." Roger hang up and held you in his arms while the tears were streaming down your face. You both sat at the floor, he was holding you so tight, trying to take away a little of your sadness. "Just let it out baby... Cry..." He caressed your cheeks and moving hair tufts behind your ears.

"This is all so fucked up Roger..." You said while crying your heart out.

"I know it is, just cry as long as you want... I understand and I won't leave you today if you want to." he said with his rhaspy and gentle voice, while holding you inside his arms, with no any gap between you. "I love you." He whispered in your ear and you shivered.

"I won't leave this house until it's over..." you looked at him and he whipped your tears.

"No, you can leave the house, paps will meet you out there and I'll be more than satisfied if you raise them a middle finger." He encouraged you, trying to make you laugh a bit.

"I already ruined your public figure, what are you talking about?" You said insecure.

"I want a cutie pie between family and friends, a savage out there and a bad girl with me." he teased you and you finally smiled. "Fucking ignore them Y/N please... I promise you it will be forgotten." he promised to you and you really wanted to believe him.

"What about tomorrow?" You asked.

"They'll prefer making questions about the tape instead of our upcoming album trust me. I'll take care of it." you both nodded your heads and just stayed there for like an hour, hugging, waiting for you to calm down.

taglist: @rogxtaylor @bohemiansweede @queendrumah

[whifferdills]

idk if you're still doing fic requests, but i've had this half-formed idea kicking around in my head and i trust you'd be able to bring it to life: 12 builds an inspector gadget style dildo/sex toy machine thing. i don't know what else would happen (like i said: half-formed) but that seems like it'd be a fun fic. alternatively, maybe another Kate Lethbridge/12 one because that pairing doesn't get nearly enough attention.

ooh, i’ve refined it a bit more if you’re at all interested: Clara asked him to build one and he gets more excited about the gadgets than the dildo, and ends up being hilariously unusable. but also sexy? idk; i trust what you come up with.            

So You Want to Build a Sex Machine12/Clara, not explicit but still risque, comedy mostly, ~1k words

(read on Ao3 instead)

Here’s what you’ll need.

1.

Considerations: materials, feasibility, semantics, ethics, use-case scenarios, mechanics both internal and external. The fulfillment of desire, what ‘want’ means; how to create it, or find it; friction. Erotic as a poorly-translated word from a language you do not speak and that your ship will not speak on your behalf.

2.

Google searches:

sexual requirements of the average human

sexual requirements of the unusual human

sex toy personality quiz

Metallica

how can i know what she wants without asking what she wants

3.

The three ‘R’s: Research, Research, Research.

3A

An hour spent watching videos of anonymous amateur fucking and masturbation.

3B

Two minutes spent with your hand wrapped experimentally around what you’d let someone assume was a cock, if anyone were around to notice. Three minutes with your right thumb pressed into the spot just below your rib cage, where your key is still lodged. You feel nothing, and an aching empty sort of wrongness, in that order.

3C

Five hours spent watching videos of people unboxing new dildo shipments. It’s satisfying, watching them crack open the packaging and methodically assess the contents,

4.

Plans. I know it seems weird, to plan ahead of time, but trust me on this.

Four-One

Two mood boards, one on the ship - in a private room tucked far away - with magazine clippings taped to a dry erase board, and one on Pinterest that is followed immediately by a user named KinkyDave17. Hey there, Kinky Dave.

Four-Two

Fifty rough concept sketches, loose and easy. One drawing of Mr. Blobby holding a sign reading “There is no such thing as ethical consumption under capitalism” (it’d seemed funny at the time). Ten selected and elaborated upon; five chosen and explored with attention to detail. Four mugs of tea, two of which are immediately forgotten and eventually absorbed back into the timestuff of the ship.

Four-Three

One sketch, and fifty variations. The implication and execution of multiple penetrative devices. Orifices, modularity. Texture, color, the minutiae of hydraulics. Desire diagrammed. Both mood boards gradually evolve into evidence that Sammy Hagar is a fixed event in time and space. The Pinterest board is immediately followed by GuitarDave1975. Hey, Guitar Dave.

Four-Four

One variation, ten life-size mock-ups. Cannibalize parts from automobiles and electric pianos. Use similarly-shaped objects as stand-ins for dildos. Create a Catherine wheel of bananas. Remember, belatedly, that that’s probably not how sex works. Take a mental note of the texture and firmness of the bananas anyway. Eat one. Eat four more, and regret it instantly. Thrust, vibration, pressure, response, haptic feedback and precision stimulation. Turn the motor on and watch it spin as you eat a sixth banana.

5.

On the mood board in your ship, tape a picture of her over Sammy Hagar so it looks she has Sammy Hagar’s body, or that Sammy Hagar has her face. Resist the sudden impulse to punch the dry erase board. Resist the constant impulse to do something sentimental. Do it anyway. Say something that pretends to be mean, like your human pastimes are ridiculous at best or it’s just an interesting engineering problem, that’s all. Touch the picture of her face, or Sammy Hagar’s face, touch the picture of the face gently and try to think positively about the ten failed attempts littering the room. Eleven, the eleven failed attempts. Or is it twelve, now?

6.

Immediately realize it’s been Eddie Van Halen all along. Spend an hour arguing in the comments section of a YouTube video with a user named, simply, Dave. We meet again, Dave.

7.

Punch the whiteboard, delete the Pinterest account. Sit down on the middle of the floor with a cup of tea. Make a mental list of all the times you can recall her making a face or a noise or a motion, an indication that there was something in her body you only partially recognize:

When you’d had your hand inside her, knuckle-deep, fingers crooked

The time it took for the red mark to show after you bit the skin on her neck, just under her ear

Not sure but it was a Tuesday local time and you were on your knees

8.

why not ask her, Dave will type. or just fuck her lol. Pause. Type back, shut it you sorry excuse for an internet avatar i never liked you anyway. Turn off your personal computation device with a degree of petty, misdirected anger. You will still be on the floor, at this point. Stretch your legs out and then lay down and press the palm of your right hand to the spot just under your rib cage where your key still is, where it’ll always be, where it’s throbbed inside you since before you left home.

9.

Ask her. Ask her, ask her, stammering and fumbling. Make sure it’s a Tuesday local time. You aren’t on your knees but you might as well be. Ask her what she wants.

And she’ll say, you, and she’ll laugh, but not in a mean-spirited way. Pull out your diagrams, your lists from your pockets. Put them back.

Say No, I mean specifically, in terms of the specific thing. Make a gesture that implies fucking and also hopefully how you understand and accept and regret your inadequacy in this area.

You, she’ll say again.

But for when you’re not there, or you’re there and you can’t, or you can but you’re not enough. What does she want? What’s better than you, what’s the ideal?

Don’t you get it yet? she’ll ask.

From here, futures splinter. It could go any way, there is a near-infinite set of possibilities. But if you take her hand and stay, it’ll be one of the good ones.

10.

Let her lead you to her bedroom on the ship, where she feels safe. Let her hold you. Admit you spent the better part of two days, local time, inventing her a sex machine. She’ll roll her eyes and say I’ve got it covered, but thanks I guess, gesturing to her proudly-displayed collection of dildos and vibrators and a fair few things you’ve never even seen before, despite at least three Googles. You nod and feel a certain awe come over you.

11.

Guide her hand to your belly, the spot just below your rib cage. Feel your key move inside you. Try not to cry.

Go down on your knees; it worked once before.

12.

Later, return to the Van Halen fan forum and ask Dave if he’s David Lee Roth, and if so, is he a fixed temporal event. He won’t respond.

[teddyylou]

Seven Minute Siege: aka that fan fiction I've been half assedly promoing

Here it is Chapter 1/15

PART 1: SILENT WITNESSES

Caspar’s Story:

STARTS 9:48 AM

Who actually needs to know what year the Berlin wall was built?

After a good ten minutes of trying to force myself to pay attention, I give up, easing my cramped hand and dropping my pencil on the table. I sat there staring at it, SpongeBob print mocking me, while it rolled onto the floor.

Mental note; thank Joe for that stationary set later.

The saddest part is that I actually like history.

It’s even sadder that I wouldn’t like it apart from the fact that Mr P. was the teacher. He was the first teacher who actually looked like they wanted to be there, and not in a creepy; over the top way, but he was also the first teacher who actually gave me a chance. He quickly became my advisor in freshman year, and I couldn’t thank him enough.

“Caspar? Caspar! Are you listening?” I hear someone snap their fingers and I look away from my pencil, which has made its way over to the bookshelf next to my desk and is currently chilling with a 2006 copy of People Magazine. Bless the American Education System. I see that it was Mr P. and I give him an apologetic smile.

Great job, Caspar

“I get that you only have three weeks left of high school but that is no excuse to feel like you do not have to-”

BANG! Crackle BANG!

“AHHHHHHG!!!”

BA- CRACKLE!

The loudspeaker cut out and the whole class is left silent and wide-eyed.

What in the hell..?

Mr P. looks from the P.A. in question over to us, then back to the P.A. His teeth are clenched together in a ‘what the fuck’ kind of way. He clears his throat before turning to us once more.

“I’m sure someone in the office just fell on the loudspeaker button… Back to work guys.” Mr P coaxed with his usual smile, but due to the uncertainty in his voice, not a single student resumed their study.

My stomach churned, Mr. P’s words just slipped through my mind like a whisper.

The class were all wide-eyed and dead silent. A pin dropping could have be heard. I looked at the faces of my classmates, the people I had come to know slightly better over the semester, most of which I had never spoken to until senior year. Their expressions were not necessarily scared, but at the same level of ‘what the fuck’ that Sir was at moments ago.

From the back of the classroom Sam Pepper, a generally loud and obnoxious kid, reluctantly raised his hand.

“Sir, even if they fell on the button, that didn’t sound normal for an office. Should we- should we lock down?” His voice cracked in his sentence through fear.

“No, no, it’s fine… Come on guys.” Mr P sounded completely unfazed by the sound we just witnessed. I understand that teachers have to keep us calm and all, but if he is only pretending that everything will be fine, he is doing a good job of it. But unfortunately he is the only one doing so.

Mr P sighs, “Guys, fine. If anything is really wrong, the alarm will go off. Until then, we have nothing to worry about.” Our teacher encouraged. I had a bad feeling about this and I’m sure the feeling amongst the other students was mutual.

9:49 AM

Mr P sat timidly at his desk, hands clasped together and tense. I think the tension of the situation was growing on him as he went from his still position behind his desk, to quickly jumping out of his seat faster than lightning. He marched directly over to the door, reaching out both hands to close it. But just his hands reached the doorknob; he was pushed back by a strong force and knocked onto the floor.

Screams were let out as a red colour appeared across his chest, spreading quickly staining his blue button-up shirt. It was like the universe went into slow motion as a man in a black beanie concealing his face, only enough so that he could see, pushed our teacher to the floor as he stormed the classroom, gun in hand. He fired across the classroom as people ducked and dived for cover before their brains could register what was happening. Students were dropping like flies in their attempt to escape the mad man’s fire.

After coming to my senses of what was happening, I jumped behind the bookcase and pulled my knees to my chest. I cover my ears in an attempt to block out the sounds of my classmates and friends’ screams. I can’t comprehend what is happening as bullets fly around the room like darts, hitting people multiple times. Who could be doing this? Why? I see a body fall practically on to me, ripping me out of trance as I jump in shock and horror. I almost let out a scream as I push it off noticing that it was the body of none other than Sam Pepper that was now lying next to me; my clothes are saturated in his blood as wet, hot tears stream down my face.

I rock back and forth while the gunshots continue. Then all of a sudden they stop, just as fast as they had started. Either everyone was dead or I had gone deaf due to the bullets. All I could hear was my own heart beat through every part of my body as I held my breath.

I remember what my mother told me. If I’m ever in this situation, play dead.

The figure walks around the bodies of senior students checking to make sure no one is alive. I quickly go limp and continue to hold my breath as I shut my eyes; Pretending that Sam’s blood is my own. I feel the man walk past me and stop. I try not to move.

I want to scream.

I give all of my will power not to squint my eyes further, or do anything to show that I am not dead. If I try anything I’ll be dead before I could finish it. I hear what I think is him finally walking away. I count to thirty before deciding to sit up.

I look around the now silent classroom, amongst the red puddles and splatters on the floor and walls, to see that I am the only one left alive.

As the silence continues, I decide to stand. I walk lines through the desks. Slowly, not trying to touch anyone, checking that maybe someone is still breathing. I see dead bodies left and right, still with eyes open. Clutched stomachs, and hurled over bodies from pain, the stench of death already lingering. I make it to the front of the room, failing in an attempt to steady my breaths and tears.

I head to the door, peeking my head around the frame. It would be stupid to leave; the man could walk out from anywhere and shoot me. I bring my whole body back inside the classroom and press it to the wall, hidden against it.

Not sure if I can bear to look at anything in the room for any longer, I let out a breath with my eyes squeezed shut.

I wait in silence.

…1…

…2…

…3…

I suck my breath right back in and slide down the wall to the floor when the gunshots start again.

9:50 AM

From my spot in a ball against the orange felt walls, I hear the door of the classroom next to ours get broken into, the cries of a teacher trying to save his students, who at least bothered to make them go into lockdown.

I try to find something to distract myself from what was going on, so I can pretend I’m not helplessly pressed against a wall clinging onto it for dear life. The sounds of gunshots go off around me echoing through the halls as screams and cries ring in my ears. Unfortunately the only other thing I can see from my spot on the floor is the dead corpse of my favourite teacher.

I feel like I never got to repay him for everything he did for me. He was the one who helped my with my dyslexia, he was the only one who tried to find other solutions for me to complete my work. He never dismissed my Tourette’s as bad behaviour. He understood my ticks. But most importantly, out of everything, he helped my come into terms with myself and helped me believe that who I was, was okay and nothing to be ashamed of.

In a time where I was to afraid to even come to school, or go home, he gave me council, and we talked it out. He made me realise that I was normal and that I had nothing to worry about. He told me to come to him if anyone was ever mean to me, and he advised me when I told him about my crush on my now three year boyfriend Joe.

We had gotten together at the end of freshman year, and today of all days was our three-year anniversary. Mr P helped me build up courage to ask him out. Joe was always so confidant and one of the only openly gay guys at our school. There was Tyler and Troye, two best friends who I was always too afraid to talk to. There was also Connor Franta but he didn’t come out until the end of last year.

It was only through Mr P and Joe that I can now say that all of those people, plus many more are now my best friends in the whole world.

Speaking of anniversaries, it just occurred to me that a certain event was due to happen just after school was let out. Three weeks from now, at the start of the break, Mr P was going to get married. Joe, the rest of my family and I were all invited and we were hardly ever not talking about it.

I let out a small whimper thinking about him and his fiancé. She was lovely; she was a musician and had an amazing sense of humour. He was caring and brilliant. They were perfect for each other. He was stupid for not going into lockdown. But neither of them deserved this. No one did.

My thoughts were interrupted as I noticed the unnerving silence which must have meant that the gunshots had stopped, then I heard a small creak of a door from across the hall. Curiosity got the best of me and I peeked my head around the corner yet again. My eyes widened as I met an equally scared looking pair of eyes, belonging to no other then Arden Rose. She was hiding in the doorway of the library, obviously not knowing the situation, and scared out of her brains. I silently urged for her to run back into the library. Using my hands as signals but it was clear she had no idea what I was trying to get across to her.

She took one look at me, then down the hall, I knew what she was planning and I wanted to run over to her and stop her before she did. I sat helplessly in the doorframe as she met my worried gaze one more. I knew the man had left the second classroom, he would see her. In a flash she launched herself from her spot, only to slam herself back against it as a bullet was fired straight at her. My heart stopped as it hit the brickwork, only just missing her. What was she doing! I could only stare at her while willing my heart to start again as the sound of a door slamming to the ground and more bullets and more scream echoed in my ears. I tried to signal to her to run, but I knew I was too late. So was off sprinting down the hall, book bag flying behind her. I bashed my hands on the wall as a slammed my head back into it in a mix of anger, worry and frustration. I wanted to scream as I heard two more gunshots follow her down the hall.

I couldn’t stand it. It was one thing for my classmates to die, another thing for my favourite teacher. But Arden was something different. She was one of my best friends, and she is dead. I accepted her fate as I silently cried. Pulling at my hair. There is no way she could have escaped.

9:51 AM

My thoughts turn to Joe as I cry to myself, trying not to be heard. I was stuck, helpless in this classroom, as a mass killer rampaged my school. I could no longer hear any gunshots if they were still going on. The only thing I knew was that my beautiful boyfriend was in the classroom at the end of the hall. I hoped he was in lockdown, but as much as I craned my neck I couldn’t see out of the door far enough to check.

He wasn’t at school this morning and I prayed that he decided to just not show up. I wanted to text him but if he was in his classroom I didn’t want to put him in danger by setting his phone off. If he was in any sort of trouble, he would text me.

It still awed me that I was lucky enough to have him. Not to mention that Joe had been mine for three years. I was even more stunned that he loved me back to be honest, not to mention freshman Caspar. Joe has always been this angelic, stunning, little human and I’m still not sure if I have grown into my long, lanky limbs and massive ears. Yet ‘I love you’ is the first thing I hear from him every time we meet so I must be doing something right.

As soon as the police show up I will find him and hold him and never let him go. He is my beautiful baby boy and my number one priority even if I have to shield him from danger with my own body; I would do anything to keep him safe. If we both can’t make it out of this, I will make it my mission to make sure that he is the one alive. He has so much potential, much more than I do. I would never find someone even close too as good as him.

I’m whipped okay.

We have an amazing day planned for after school, which includes skipping the last two periods. Though after all of this, we might not feel like it. I would be happy if we are just both here to see it happen.

I flinch when out of the corner of my eye I see something move past the window on the other side of the classroom. I turn my whole tear stained face to see

… Kian…

… and JC…

Is that … Ricky?

9:52 AM

They slowly walk past the window. Kian grips onto JC’s shoulder and Ricky scouts the area as they sneak their way past my classroom. They must have gotten up out of their own class and left. The tension probably got too much for them. Maybe they were already out of class when it happened.

Idiots. That’s the only word I could think of to describe them. Sure they were kinda my friends, and I get that they would want to leave, but there is one guy in the hallway who just shot my entire class plus two more, and one guy can’t hold down a whole school right?

Anyway, there are probably at least three more gunmen around ready to shoot; Ricky, JC and Kian are goners.

Like with Arden, I try to signal them. JC points at me through the window and the other two turn to face me. Ricky waves me over but I furiously shake my head.

What! Is he, crazy? I’m not risking my life to try and sneak out. If I could save anyone I would, but it is impossible for me to leave my spot. I try to tell them to leave and get out of sight.

The three boys just stare at me through the window, they shrug at my gestures and smile at me. Kian waves as he puts his hand on Ricky’s back pushing them on. They walk out of the way of the window so I can no longer see them.

I start to panic. Everything is finally catching up to me. The smell, the small cramped position that I am in, the fact that I can’t leave said position. Maybe I can. I have no idea what is happening around me and my phone is over on my desk. I can’t see anyone’s texts or snap chats or Tweets or anything. It all occurs to me that there could be more killers, no police; Maybe Kian, JC and Ricky are outside safe, maybe they are already dead.

The worst part is that I’m stuck alone, with my thoughts. I can escape them just as much as I can escape this room. It’s so quiet that the only thing I can hear is the screams of the past five minutes playing over in my head.

Wait, it was quiet. Actually dead silent.

There hadn’t been a gunshot in a really long time, or at least, not one that I had heard. Did that mean it was safe?

I couldn’t take being there anymore and decided that it would be best to leave, I had missed all of the other opportunities I had been given and this could be my last one. What if he comes back?

I slowly stand, using the wall to help me up. I look at the red handprint that I had left slowly seep into the felt. However, this thing ends, it won’t be happily. So many parents have lost their children; people losing soul mates, siblings, family members, and friends…

I hear one final gunshot and jump in my spot. I freeze.

9:53 AM

I hear a scream. It sounded like the person was screaming out ‘Noooo!’ but kind of like someone’s name.

It also kind of sounded like Will.

No, YES! it was unmistakably the cry of Will Darbyshire. Did he find Arden? They weren’t together but it is so obvious how they feel. He clearly loves her.

I don’t want to think about how he would feel if he found her body. I turn my head back towards the wall where I once sat.

I think about the impact on everyone’s lives that this one man, let alone any other gunman at this school, or anywhere, has done to our community.

Who let him have a gun; WHO JUST LETS ANYONE HAVE A GUN? I slam my fist against the mark I left on the wall in anger.

I’m angry for those who had to die today; their families, and anyone who has to go back to school after this and deal with the memories of what went down on this morning.

All of those students were my friends! They were so talented, they had bright futures. They had so many people who loved them and they themselves loved so many.

I didn’t care anymore, I pulled my hair with both my hands and I let out a frustrated scream and it was almost like one thousand other voices were screaming with me.

I lifted my head from my hands to see that it wasn’t in my head. There really were people screaming with me. A class of students from the end of the hall were rampaging down it, screaming and yelling and avoiding the flailing gunfire of the man on the floor.

I lean out of the door, grabbing onto the frame to watch it. The students burst through the front door of the school to safety; cheering and whooping as they exited the crime scene.

I got swept up in it all and felt a yell strangled in my throat wanting to be let out.

I was about to let it out as the last few members of the class left the building, when the gunman stood up.

9:54 AM

I wasn’t sure if he had seen me but I dived against the door again, this time against the other side, flat against the open door itself.

I watched in horror as the man walked over to two pairs of feet trapped under a bank of lockers that must have been pushed over during the stampede.

No, no, NO! Not more death! We were good, we were safe. More people can’t die today.

I watched as I recognized a turquoise quiff belonging to one of the trapped victims. No, Not Tyler!

I Stood ready to scream. I could create a distraction. The suspense was building, almost at tipping point. I sucked in a breath as a different noise sounded from the end of the hall. The sound of multiple texts on someone’s iPhone rang through the dead silent halls. I breathed heavily as I looked from the lockers to the man to the direction of the noise. It did its job as the man dropped his gun to his side and followed it.

It wasn’t until my eyes looped back around to the noise as well that I noticed the man lift his gun again, to the head of Connor Franta.

I let out an audible whimper as I held my breath. He looked as threatening as a kitten as he kneeled on the floor. Large eyes pleading to the man for mercy. I had held my breath for so long that black spots appeared in my vision, blocking my view as I braced myself.

I shut my eyes as the last gunshot went off.

A body fell to the ground and the clank of the silver on the tiles jolted me fully awake.

Two arms scooped me off the ground and once again the confusion upon me sent the world into slow motion.

I was barely walking for myself as my feet kicked the ground. The police were practically dragging me out of the school.

I turned my head to face the body of the gunman on the floor. Lying in a pool of his own blood.

It was over.

Until the high-pitched squeal of a girl spun the world back to normal, and the worried sprints of Dan, Phil, Tanya and Jim had me break out of the policemen’s grip to follow them.

Part 2: https://teddy-parade.tumblr.com/post/155612175180/seven-minute-siege-pt-215