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ladyreapermc · 3 years

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Fic: Stress Relief (Donaka x fem!reader)

Summary: Donaka is stressed and it’s your job to help him relax.

Pairing: Donaka x Fem!Reader

Author’s notes: is this me posting filth again? Why, yes, it is! Enjoy because I have no idea how long this will last. LOL

Wordcount: 2688

Warnings: smut (oral m!receiving; fingering). Powerplay; degradation kink; edging, overstimulation; choking.

Most of your days you spent doing whatever you wanted because you had no worries, not financially or of any type. You were free to hang out with friends, travel, party, and do whatever you wanted.

There were only two rules: you needed to be available to him whenever he called, be it in person or through the camera. And you were exclusively his. No one was allowed to touch you unless he said so. Those two rules were easy enough to follow when it meant having everything you ever dreamt of and more.

That day, you had been in your apartment reading when the message came in, making the smartwatch around your wrist vibrate:

Zen space. Lilac. NOW.

You had no idea what had happened and you preferred to remain blissfully ignorant of Donaka’s business, but you recognize that tone, even through text. He was stressed and furious and it was your job to help him relax.

Wasting no time, you set your book aside and headed to your bedroom, considering for a second if you should take a quick shower first, make sure your skin was silky soft and scented just like he preferred, but decided against it. Making Donaka wait was never an option so you just changed into the requested lingerie.

It was a pale lavender babydoll, with a lace front that revealed almost every inch of your body and tiny panties that barely covered your sex. You also put on the diamond choker he had gifted you even though he hadn’t explicitly asked for it, before taking the private lift that took you straight to his loft on the floor above.

The elevator opened in his home office and you noticed the room was dimly lit, the wall of screens was on standby offering a soft blue glow. The black leather couch was empty as you expected so you turned your attention to the left corner of the room, his Zen space, where he went to meditate or cool off.

Donaka was sitting on the glass bench, back turned to the rest of the room and facing the wall of concentric circles, his bare feet resting on the platform that separated the smooth and polished dark floor from the finely grated white sand. His hands rested on his spread knees and there was a slight hunch on his shoulders, the weight of his stress.

By his feet, in front of him, laid a thin pillow to protect your skin from the unforgiving sand and you were glad for it. You would, of course, kneel on it and endure the grains digging into your skin if that was what Donaka wanted but he didn’t get off on pain. Not yours at least.

You moved towards him in silence, resisting the urge to brush your fingers over his broad shoulders and back, before kneeling in front of him, sitting on your heels and looking up at the man that gave you everything and owned your heart.

His eyes pinned you in place and made your breath hitch. Cold fury clouded the brown orbs and his lips were pressed together tightly, jaw clenched tight. The sight made your body shudder with want and you pressed your thighs together.

There was something so arousing about seeing Donaka this enraged. Seeing the violence in his eyes and knowing that it would take him barely any effort to snap you in half or choke the life out of you. The knowledge that he was the kind of man that killed without even blinking but for some reason, he chose never to harm you. Most of the time, Donaka chose tender caresses and measured touches designed to bring you the kind of ecstasy that you had never experienced before.

Today his fingers trailed against your cheek in a featherlike touch, his thumb brushing over your lips, and at the faintest pressure, you parted them, letting the thick digit enter your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it before sucking greedily just as you wanted to do to another part of his body.

You watched his eyes darkening as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled more of his thumb into your mouth and moaned under your breath at the knot building between your legs, making your core pulse and dampening your panties.

Donaka’s other hand reached for the button and zipper of his trousers, releasing his half-hard cock from its confinements. He pulled his thumb free from your mouth, palm cradling your nape before he nudged your forward.

You licked your lips and inched closer, mouth salivating at the treat in front of you. You want his long, thick cock in your mouth. You wanted to feel it fully hardening between your lips, under your talented tongue. You needed to taste his bitter precum, a flavor you were slowly becoming addicted to… but all that could only happen after Donaka’s permission.

Sometimes it would come almost immediately. He would push you down his hard shaft, making you gag on it, fucking your mouth with abandon and using you like you were worth little more than your holes. In those days, he would come all over your face, zip himself up, and leave you to take care of yourself.

However, on days like today, when he was tense and furious with whatever had bothered him at work, he preferred to drag it out. To make you work for it, sometimes even beg to have his cock in your mouth. When he finally allowed it, Donaka would fuck your mouth oh so slowly, pushing deeper and deeper, until tears started to spring in your eyes, spit ran down your chin and your juices soaked your panties in such a way that all you and he could smell was the scent of your desperate arousal.

“What do you want?” He asked and his low and throaty voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Your cock, sir.” You whispered, peering at him from under your lashes. “Will you fuck my mouth, please? Make me choke on it?”

There was a barely-there twist in the corners of his mouth and your heart leaped in your chest. How you loved to make him feel good. It was like a drug.

“Such a good girl,” Donaka said, his thumb caressing your jaw. “My little cockslut.”

“Yes, sir,” you all but whimpered, pressing your thighs together once again because your cunt throbbed and you had never in your life thought you would get this turned on by being used like this, but by God, his words made you shudder with desire, body hot and ready for anything that Donaka was willing to give you.

With his hand still on your nape, controlling your pace, he nudged you forward once more, holding his cock with his free hand and letting the tip rub against your wanting lips. Donaka wasn’t one for much noise, but there was a slight hitch on his breath that told you he was enjoying the soft, almost ghost-like touch on the sensitive and swollen head of his member.

Your lips parted a little, letting your tongue brush against the velvety head and Donaka sucked in a deep breath, especially when the tip of your tongue probed against his slit, bringing forth a pearly white drop of his precum and making him harden fully.

God, your cunt ached in need to be filled but you knew you couldn’t touch yourself. Not until he allowed and that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Not until he had his release and part of you wanted to just suck him fully into your mouth, end this torturous teasing. Even if it meant a serious punishment later (or maybe especially because it would lead to a punishment).

However, the bittersweet pleasure of the edging and denial was like a drug too, making your orgasm be nearly blinding so you hanged on, gathering every little bit of patience you could find so you could continue to just lick the tip like a lollipop that you wanted to last forever.

After a few more moments of that painfully slow game, Donaka’s grip on your nape tightened, his blunt nails digging lightly against your skin, and you knew he was ready for more. You met his dark gaze, eyes hooded with pleasure lips parted in a soft pant as he watched you and he didn’t even need to tell you what to do.

“Sir, may I suck you now, please?” you pouted and kissed the head of cock for good measure, batting your lashes like a needy child and Donaka smirked.

“Yes, angel, you may.”

You didn’t need to be told twice and engulfed the thick and hard shaft into your mouth, whimpering at the burst of flavor on your tongue as he let out a small grunt of pleasure, his shoulders finally relaxing as he tilted his head back and just enjoyed your work.

You pushed him deeper into your mouth until your nose was almost pressing against the thick dark curls surrounding his member. The open fly of his dress pants scratching your chin as you hollowed your cheeks and hummed. Donaka cursed low and grunted, his hips raising lightly, driving even deeper, and you gagged, tears burning your eyes. Your clit was almost painfully swollen and each rub of the lace of your panties was torture. You needed just a little bit of…

“Take your hand off that cunt, angel.”

You had no idea how he knew. His head was still tilted back, eyes nearly closed but you didn’t dare to disobey a direct command. With a pitiful whimper and one last flick on your needy clit, you pulled your hand away, crossing them behind your back and Donaka’s smirked.

“That’s better.” He looked back at you, tugging you away until his cock slipped from your lips with a pop, and you gulped a breath. “No one ever taught you that you shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you without permission?”

You said nothing because you didn’t have an answer to that.

“And to whom that little pussy belongs, angel?”

“You, sir.” Your voice was small and raspy from the abuse on your throat.

“Exactly.”

He petted your cheek once, before pushing you back toward his cock, and dutifully, you took him into your mouth again, letting your jaw slack so his shaft could slip in and out as he guided you to bob your head at a faster pace. His cock pulsed against your lips, and you could tell he was close. Soon enough, Donaka’s hot cum would be coating your tongue and you couldn’t wait. You were desperate for it.

Before him, you had never allowed a guy to cum in your mouth. Then again, before Donaka, the was plenty you didn’t let men do to you. He changed your life, and you knew you would never be able to go back.

His grip on you tightened again as he pulled you closer until your nose was buried against his pubes and you forced yourself to relax as best as you could as he let out a final grunt and pumped his cum down your throat.

The hot and sticky ribbons making you gag again and tears run down your cheeks as you blubbered and squeezed your wrists to hold them still. Only when he was completely spent, Donaka let you pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening with your spit and his cum as you coughed and gasped for much-needed air.

He only allowed you a moment, before he was forcing to sit on his thigh, your trembling legs spread as he pushed your panties aside and glided his long fingers over your soaked hairs and sensitive lips.

“My dirty little cockslut is this wet from sucking me,” he mocked with a biting tone, and you whimpered. “Do you want to cum, angel?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

His fingers rubbed over your clit, making you gasp and whine, the pleasure overwhelming to the point of hurting but you still thrust your hips up, seeking more.

“Please…” you were almost crying now, desperate for it. Exactly like Donaka like it. “Please, please, please. Oh God, please…”

Thick and fat tears ran down your cheeks and the same hand that had been around your nape, came to your throat, surrounding the choker and forcing you to tilt your face enough so he could lick away your tears and his two fingers finally entered you.

Your cries were high-pitched and needy as Donaka fingered you hard and fast, the heel of his large palm slapping your clit as he curled his digits and the hand on your throat tightened in just the right way.

Your climax hit you like a storm, lighting up every single one of your nerve-ends. Your vision darkened, your body tensed, your back arched and a wild moan tore from your throat as your cunt pulsed and throbbed and you squirted all over his hand and knee.

For a while you were nothing more than a conglomerate of nerves busting with pleasure that seemed to last forever as Donaka continued to thrust his fingers, pressing the rugged wall of your cunt and rubbing your clit, dragging out your bliss until another lightning struck and you came again in what it felt like was just seconds later, but you knew it had to be longer. Time seemed to shorten and stretch at once as you rode his hand, gasping, wheezing, and crying?

You couldn’t tell if that pitiful sound was really coming from your mouth, not when your body was electrified like that, your muscles spasming and feeling like jelly and you had to reach behind yourself for Donaka’s shoulders to hold yourself because surely you would slide to the ground if you didn’t.

And just as the blinding light of your pleasure was starting to dimmish and you thought you would be able to see and feel and talk and breath again, his hand restarted his motions and you cried because it was almost painful now. That sweet, incessant ache that made you seek it, and you could faintly hear sobs and pleas of stop and no more. You couldn’t take another.

“Safeword?” Donaka’s voice sounded clear in your ear, and it was on the tip of your tongue. You knew if it crossed your lips, he would stop, but your vocal cords refused to utter it. “Safeword, angel.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, like a kid with a secret, and shook your head. His lips drew into a pleased smile against your cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

His kiss on your jaw was almost soft and loving before his fingers restarted their dance inside you. Even faster than before and your hips were rocking against it, actively seeking out your third orgasm despite the aching of your abused clit.

Once again, as the climax overtook you, your body went rigid and seized, your vision whited-out and for several blissful moments, that intense pleasure made time fall away, leaving only the most perfect peace and comfort, like slipping into a hot bath after a long day, letting the scented water wash away any hint of tension in your body before you laid in your bed, the duvet and pillows soft like a lover’s caress, welcoming you to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When you finally opened your eyes again, after what it felt like just a couple of seconds, you were in your bed, cleaned and tucked tight, the only evidence of your previous activities was the sweet ache between your legs whenever you moved and a deep, sad sigh escaped your lips.

It was always like this: Donaka fucked your brains out, then he would take care of you, clean you up and tuck you in and no matter how much your blissed-out self, begged for it – and you knew you always did – he would never stay. But this was the deal you made. You took whatever he gave you. You didn’t complain and you didn’t demand more.

You couldn’t. Too afraid of losing what little you already had.

xxx

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#donaka mark x reader #donaka mark x you #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #man of tai chi fanfic

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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hello!! i am really really sorry if this sounds pushy or somethin but, will you ever publicly release that post swearth drabble you made?? i just curious

Today is actually the scheduled day, and on my partner's birthday no less, how fitting! Originally posted to my kofi for early access to supporters, now it's here for everyone!

Synopsis: Swerve and a human reader share a talk when he awakens after Swearth.

You were the first thing he thought about when he woke up, or so he would tell you later. Moments after he'd confessed how it was your touch, your tiny body clinging so tightly to him, that had welcomed him back to the land of the living. Apparently that had been the clue he needed to realize he wasn't dead.

It had been just you and him in the medical bay for hours following the... Swearth Incident, save for brief check ups from Velocity. The crew had given the two of you ample space and alone time once it was confirmed Swerve would soon awaken, both out of respect and to avoid the talk that would doubtless be needed between the two of you. There had been more than one occasion where you'd drifted off in the eternity it had taken for him to completely return to consciousness, your much smaller body protectively clinging to his beneath a blanket some unknown visitor had been kind enough to lay over you.

It seemed silly now, but you'd actually been angry when he'd come to so casually, yawning and rubbing his visor as if he was just waking from a nap. There'd been happiness as well, obviously, but you were still struggling too deeply to pretend everything was okay. Quite frankly, things had never been less okay between the two of you.

Had you not been able to project down onto his fantasy world, joining the rescue party despite the copious limits of your biology, who was to say you'd have ever seen him awake again? He'd been hiding away in his room for months, dissuading you from visiting him by claiming there was "a huge mess that I'm too lazy to clean up"... Knowing that you weren't sure which hug had last been with his real self hurt more than you were ready to accept.

"Y/N...?"

Anger was briefly swallowed by a tsunami of relief when he sleepily murmured your name, his helm turning to let your face reflect on the newly polished surface of his visor, where your tear slicked expression dissapeared as you hugged him as securely as his broad shoulders allowed.

"I thought I'd lost you..."

A knot in your throat prevented any further words from tumbling out, but the sobs that started to shake your whole body conveyed your thoughts just as well, sending a surge of hot tears splashing against his chest. Arms thicker than you wrapped gently about your smaller body, as calmly as if he were comforting you after a nightmare. A slight tremble in his grip made you hiccup in despair, your experience with his rather frequent hugs telling you the exhaustion from his still recent brush with death was still weighing him down, as ordinarily he would hold you like a lifeline for even the most casual embrace. Too many terrible things were finally registering as real far too quickly for you to process them all.

"I thought... when they called me into the medical bay..." You lost the tirade you'd been saving up to a storm of long buried grief. The memory of that call would forever haunt you, and now it was so recent the words were still burning in your ears, even though they'd been delivered so carefully... Agony from the sight of a familiar body lying broken on a medical slab made you nauseous, enough that only his increasingly desperate hug kept you grounded enough not to puke. Words poured forth in a cracked whisper, all the fear you'd been holding back for his sake rushing out of you without restraint, and interrupted only by an occasional hiccup or sob. "First Aid said you had days... That we'd been talking to a hologram for months, while you... you..."

The servos holding you tight maneuvered you to look him in the visor, keeping you in a loose hug while he put on what was probably intended to be a reassuring smile, though it failed to convince. "Hey, it was no big deal! Just my old shoulder wound playing up!"

"No big deal?" you repeated incredulously. A full body wince beneath you made it seem as if the words had physically hurt him, and while your heart ached as it always did when he was in pain, your other feelings could no longer be contained. He needed help for the suffering he'd endured in private, but in doing what he'd done you had nearly lost the one you cherished more than anything in the galaxy. You couldn't be expected to just let that go.

"You nearly died! You were dying for months!" you said, disbelief still strong at the very idea. The bot you'd adored had been dying in secret with no symptoms, making it impossible to truly believe he was okay in this moment either. It seemed as if he might crumble beneath you at the slightest movement, but you kept talking, refusing to be quiet. "No one knew, not even me, that you were wasting away while we thought everything was fine! I didn't know! How many times did you hold me, or tell me you wanted to be together forever, while you..."

Sobs made it impossible to breathe, and therefore impossible to talk.

"Y/N, I'm sorry..." Swerve said, softer than he'd ever been before. Careful servos pulled in your crying body against his and stroked your shaking shoulders, allowing you to vent everything you'd been enduring. Whether it took moments or hours before you were mostly quiet, he didn't interrupt you for anything, and he was silent until you were and he spoke again. "I never wanted to hurt anyone... I never wanted to hurt you... I... I didn't even know how bad of shape I was in."

"But you knew you were lying." you said, getting back to the core of the problem. Awareness of his condition mattered far less in the face of what he'd known and kept on doing. Though he did flinch yet again, Swerve didn't deflect this point, and instead nodded glumly in agreement.

"That... yeah, I did."

"To everyone." you emphasized, pushing for an answer in regards to why. Not a single soul on the ship had known what was happening, until it was almost too late. Had Skids not acted so quickly and carried his friend to the medical bay directly... You made a mental note to thank him later, then returned to the present when the minibot in question finally looked ready to really talk.

Taking more than a few starting vents, he finally got his thoughts gathered and his nerves primed, but every single word was unnaturally heavy. "It... it really didn't seem like a big deal. You were the only one who ever wanted to see me, in my own place, but it felt like I was doing you a favor..." Swallowing hard, he managed something like a smile and tried to sound reassuring, even if only to himself. "We still got to talk and everything else!"

There was too much to sort through in his partial explanation, thus you only stared. You'd always known he had issues when it came to self worth, but to hear him say teetering on the edge of death was no big deal? That by ridding you of himself he was doing you a favor? It wasn't something you could really wrap your brain around, but you supposed that wasn't important at the moment, not compared to what still needed to be done. There were more questions to be asked.

"You're hurting, and that's... I know you'd never try to hurt me, but you did. I want you to feel better, and I'll help, but I have to ask..." you said softly, finding the strength only as you came to each individual word to continue. Swerve showed in his braced expression that he anticipated something heavy was coming, a question he really didn't want to answer, but he didn't do anything to stop you.

"Y/N..."

Trying not to cry but still hiccuping, you forced yourself to keep looking in his visor. This wasn't supposed to be easy, after all, you repeated in your head as you finally croaked out the question. "Did you think about me at all? What this would do to me? Did you really think I wouldn't care?"

Something within him, something physical, seemed to break quickly and painfully. You felt it in how he flinched his much larger body as you lay curled over him. The unique way his visor light sputtered when he was hit with deep emotion told you he was reeling, and in that moment you forgot all about the complexities of the situation.

"I... I didn't-" he choked out on a sob, vents pulling air back and forth quickly in the Cybertronian equivalent of breathless crying. Heart breaking, you registered in some deep part of your brain that a dam he'd been relying on had just cracked. Embracing his helm against your chest, you gently stroked his cheek, whispering his nickname to try and convey your support.

"Swervy..."

Clipped by sobs, his words tumbled out mostly coherently, and you held him as they did. "I r-really thought you could... could do better. I'm just h-holding you back and... and if I wasn't there... but I couldn't make myself stop seeing you!" A few hard sobs stopped him for a good minute, at which point your shirt began to dampen with his tears. What you were hearing had been simmering for ages, and as much as it hurt to hear, you knew just letting it out was progress. That didn't make it any easier to listen as he continued...

"The holo... it was s-slow and made it like... like I was saving us both from hurt by slipping away. I didn't have to end things, we could pull back bit by bit and then... then you'd find someone better... but I didn't pull back at all, did I? I even made a second you, because I'm too selfish-"

You couldn't let him finish that thought. "Stop. No more of that."

Swerve looked surprised at your firmness, and admittedly had reason to feel as such. Swearth had included a holomatter of you already, albeit one that lived completely separate from his split personas... It had been you in the simplest, happiest of ways, living your dream life on his fictional escape from reality. Clearly he expected you to still be furious at what had only made you sad.

"B-but I ruined everyt-thing! If I'd just been brave enough to break up with you before-"

"I don't want you to break up with me!" you cried, lifting your upper body to look down at him. Emotions raged inside you with enough ferocity to make you tremble, and for an instant you had to gather yourself. You'd known he was suffering, that he struggled with inadequacy, but for it to have gotten so bad? How had you not known he felt like this?

Swerve looked absolutely baffled at your words, as if he'd heard you wrong or misunderstood. "But... I-"

"I love you! Even if there's some voice in your head that won't let you believe it, it's true! I want to be with you, and even after all this I still do!" you insisted, holding onto him as if he might vanish in a flash like before. Unable to stop yourself from crying at the raw emotions you didn't have the ability to handle, you wiped away the tears on the back of your arm, fighting to keep talking despite the pain. He had to know how you really felt, and if this moment was the only one you could break through to him you were going to use it. His cheeks were hot in your hands as you cupped his face. "I just need you to work on getting better! No more hiding, or lying, or any of that, I want you to be with me as you, because that's who I fell in love with!"

Swerve was totally silent, his little dentae gap showing between his slightly parted lips as he stared at you. His feelings were beyond guessing, but you were growing exhausted, too much to even hope you could keep this up. Sniffling, you laid back down over him. The frame beneath you was warm and alive, but just that morning it had been... he'd been so close to leaving you. Then again, he'd felt fine all the times you'd held him in the prior months, how did you know this was any different?

"I want to be with you. The real you. I don't know how to be sure this you is real either..."

Exhaustion dragged you down against him, and you lost the ability to even lift your head as it all seemed to sink in. You hadn't wanted to make this about yourself, but your pain was just too intense to shove aside. Tears, more than you knew you had, continued to fall onto his chest. As they dripped onto the newly cleaned armor, you felt him suddenly shift beneath you. Curling up partway, he scooped you up completely in his arms and hugged you close.

"It's me this time, babe. A hundred percent. I k-know it's hard to believe that, but I... I want to help you trust me." he said, shaky but firm as he made his promise. For all the hours you'd spent listening to him you'd never once heard him use such a tone. There was conviction in the depths of his visor as he held you close, tapping his forehead against your forehelm. While you could also see pain, there was a desire to fight it now. His request for help came on a quiet murmur. "I don't know how to do that, but I don't wanna hurt anymore..."

"I can help with that. Not all by myself, but I'll be here for you as long as you try." you vowed, stumbling over your words as you found them. There was a strange solace in the idea, as if planning your recovery together was healing in and of itself. Too relieved to care, you pressed your face into his cheek. The faintest hint of his usual scent; sweet energon blends and brews, was still apparent beneath the sterile medical air. It soothed you as you allowed yourself to rest on top of him. "From now on, no more hiding this stuff. We're gonna get you feeling better, I promise."

"I love you..." Swerve whispered, hopefully but tentatively. A lifetime of doubt wouldn't just dissapear after one massive event, you knew that, but the start was good enough for you. Kissing his tear stained cheek, you held him close, hoping your unconditional love was clear in every word. It would be a journey, but you hoped someday he'd understand how much you meant it.

"I love you too, Swervey. Always will."

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light imagine #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #swerve x reader #swerve #swearth #kofi

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Worth Fighting For (Part: Two)

summary: You’re entirely certain George is the one. So he hasn’t got to put up much of a fight… but in a way, that’s all he knows to do.

a/n: Now is a good time to mention that I know nothing about boxing. My only refreance is a movie about mma and one nights worth of basic research. But all that matters is I'm having buckets of fun writing this! The angst starts to creep in this chapter. Let me know what yall think!

w/c: 4k

Part 1

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was the end of an exceptionally long weekend. You'd managed to throw together last minute choreography for the kids school play, taught a wedding party how to waltz, and helped a friend nail her audition for a foreign dance company.

It was easy as ever, with a broken hand. But everything else was increasingly difficult. You were still getting used to using your one, lame hand to do laundry and cook dinner. But at least you could still dance.

There was nothing better than pumping the music and moving until it ached. Until all you had to worry about was locking up and racing home to shower, and all the things you'd been anxious about all week had long fled to the very back of your mind.

But the weekend was over, and you didn't have an excuse to stay in the studio now that all the kids who came to learn were long gone. But you had a perfectly sound reason for taking longer to do you post class stretches. As you took your sweet time sliding into your jacket and switching out the lights, you kept your eye on the window to the hallway. You tried not to look too obvious, but there was a silly, desperate hope inside of you; to see George.

The gym door remained shut, raucous music thumbing from somewhere deep inside, as you dragged your feet out in the hall. You tried not to look like you were casting glances over your shoulder, or seem too disappointed when you found no one there. When the door to your studio was locked and your adrenalin from class dwindled away, you went on your way.

And while you tried not to think about the funny feeling you got in your chest at the thought of George, you shoved open the door to the parking lot. The sky was a bleak grey and a chill crept past your layers of brightly colored clothes.

"Took you long enough." A voice crept close over your shoulder, causing you to spin around with a gasp.

George was leaning against the stone of the building, the hood of his pale jacket up over his head, strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How's your hand?" He asked, like he really cared to know.

"Oh, I'm managing." You decided with a smile, happening to glance at George's. "How's yours?" You asked, noticing bruises on his knuckles that weren't there the weekend before.

George seemed confused, for a beat, before glimpsing down at his fingers.

"Oh, this is nothing." He said. And before you could choose one the dozens of questions you had, you decidedly moved on.

"What are you waiting on?" You asked in a nervous giggle, glancing to his car a few parking spaces away.

"You, obviously." George rose a brow and reached for his bulky canvas bag that rested near his feet. You watched his lean figure shift as he carried the weight over one shoulder and stepped closer.

"Come on, It's my turn to treat you to DeAngelo's." He explained, walking past you to his sleek vintage car. The familiar screech of the city bus caught your ear, and you looked over to notice it stall to a stop, before you followed George's lead.

The ride was quiet. You spent most of the time pretending to be distracted by your chipping nail polish. Even in his silence George was captivating. You couldn't be sure if he'd noticed you stealing glances at him as he drove; but every time you did, you wouldn't let yourself look long.

You couldn't be sure why stepping foot into the diner to get felt different. Maybe it was because you weren't alone. You were mixed among dozens of other dinner parties and the combined white noise of everyone's collective chatter set you at ease. You weren't as shy to let your gaze linger on George as he studied you across the same booth as before.

And much like then, your conversations started mildly. He asked what you were going to order, and you tried not to feel too embarrassed for listing off the same meal. But he grinned and said he was going to do the same. And right as your conversation opened up to grow ever deeper, you were interrupted.

"Miss y/n!" An excited, drawn out greeting rang from a small boy who was busy bouncing your way. You didn't need to turn to know it was little Louis. He was one of your most loyal students. And though you'd never say it to anyone, the small kid was your favorite budding ballerina. Perhaps because he cared so unabashedly for you, too.

All four feet and fifty pounds of the curly headed boy crashed into your side of the booth, his little arms reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let out a surprised gasp and turned to try and greet the boy as soon as you realized he'd appeared.

"Today was lot's of fun. Can we do more big jumps next week?" The boy broke away from you to peer up, big brown eyes full of hope. You chuckled a little and assured the boy you'd planned on it. That's about the time his mother shuffled over, apologizing for her eight years old interrupting your dinner.

"It's alright." You assured, sheepishly glancing over to George who was sat back watching on with a coy grin. The kind of smile that- if you were younger and less confident, might have made you insecure. But knowing the little you did about George, you read no mocking in his expression. Only something more vulnerable you couldn't quite make out yet. You wondered all of a sudden just how exactly to get him to open up, and wondered hopelessly if you'd ever get the chance.

"I'm always glad to see you, Louis." You grinned at the boy, still glancing up to you in the sweetest way. "He's never missed a class in two years." You bragged to George now, who let his grin stretch a little wider.

Then you got the good sense to introduce the guy across from you. You gave his name away, and mentioned that he taught at the gym at Fit For All. Louis mother seemed to light up at the mention.

"Oh, you're Geogre? You know my oldest son, Danny. He talks about you all the time." The woman whose dark roots were nearly longer than the dyed blonde bits of her hair gleamed, and Geogre seemed to glow, too.

"Oh, yes. He's always at the gym, it seems." George sat up a little, peering to the woman Louis belonged to. The mother explained that her eldest wanted nothing more than to grow up to become a boxer. But a shoulder injury at the tail end of highschool ruined his chances. So Danny traded boxing for running, and had completed several marathons since.

George said the guy was great at encouraging the kids who frequented Fit For All, no matter which lesson they showed up for. It was your turn to smile and watch as George and his friends mother gushed over the guy who wasn't even around.

When Louis was coaxed from your side back to his mothers he gave you one final hug and raced her to a table across the room. A silence fell between you and George once more, but it was more familiar than ever. George was the first to break it.

"He was sweet." George smiled, reaching for his drink.

"Must run in the family." You pointed out. "I didn't realize Louis even had a brother."

"Danny is a good guy. He always knows just what to say. Not only to the kids, but to me too, some days." George let out a little laugh. A nervous, slightly bittered chuckle. And while it made you realize a little something more about him, it added to the complexity of George all the while. This guy was going to drive you nuts in no time. You'd let him.

///

And that's how it started. Every Friday, around the same time, you'd pile into George's ride and one of you would cover the bill for DeAngelo's.

Sometimes you got held up, trying to help a girl learn her steps for the schools annual talent show. You'd find Geogre had lingered in and made himself at home on the folded up mats near the door. You caught his gaze in the wall length mirror and tried to hide your blush while you danced on.

Other times, he'd be running behind. You shuffled outside to find George in the middle of what seemed to be a serious conversation with a familiar guy around your age. It was Danny, and you were introduced for the first time like you'd been friends forever. You found the rumors about the guy were true, even in the first few minutes of meeting. Danny mentioned his little brother mentioning you nonstop, and said how he'd been waiting to put your face to your name. George ended the small talk by reaching over and nudging you toward his car.

The slight touch of his arm against yours made you feel different than the only other time he'd touched you before. The last was when he'd rushed in to monitor your injured hand. And you couldn't feel much of anything. But now, when George leaned into you, pushing you away all the while, your nerves seemed to dance on end. But Danny's pleasant goodbye tore your thoughts away, and you waved your working hand to the guy and hoped out loud to see more of him.

Then George drove you to DeAngelos for another week in a row.

///

You hadn't really realized how much time had passed until snow started to fall. Granted the weather seemed to change much earlier than it ever had years prior. But it changed all the same, and it seemed to draw attention to the tradition you'd made of going to dinner with George.

You sat in the same spot almost everytime. And you talked about the same sorts of things. There were always complaints shared, about the growing cold, and the things that held up your week. There was always some kind of exciting news to share, about a new movie coming to town, or the things you'd accomplished during work. You even spoke about things you hadn't been keen on discussing with most other people. Like your relationship with your family and the scariest parts of highschool. Because George asked. He asked you more about yourself than he ever dared to mention his own stories.

"When are you gonna let me come watch you teach kids how to throw a punch, huh?" You teased. George had lingered in the doorway to catch the tail end of a handful of your lessons, by now. And he was always done for the night, when yours ended early.

As you ate your usual dinner, he kept his demure smile and rolled his dazzling blue eyes your way, before changing the subject. And you wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk, so you let your question go unanswered.

"We've been coming here a lot." He pointed out, plain and simply. But the comment made your heart feel like it had grown a layer of steel , sinking ever so slightly.

"Would you rather us go someplace else?" You wondered in a light manner, trying not to seem let down at the possibility of ending your tradition.

"Course not. I'm saying I like coming here." George smiled, then added, "With you."

You bit back your grin from spreading too widely and let the familiar bout of quiet follow.

///

But the next weekend was different and it was all your fault. Your water heater broke on Tuesday. And your landlord called back Wednesday night to say he couldn't help you fix it till he came back to town next week. You had to postpone Friday's class when you realized you were in too deep trying to fix the issue yourself. And while you fiddled with the matter with your non broken hand, a deep regret flooded your system when you realized George would miss you and you had no way of letting him know.

You worried all evening at the thought of standing him up. You crossed your working fingers that he'd still be keen to see you the next weekend; and tried to accept the fact that since your tradition had been broken, the thin connection you shared with George might now forever be lost, too.

By the end of your next week, your landlord was still off on holiday, and had taken to ignoring your texts asking for help. How hard was it for him to call a local mechanic to send your way before he left to go tanning for the day, or whatever?

And as you bared another cold shower and grumpily hurried to head to the studio, your power went out.

"No, no no!" You whined, flipping a light switch a dozen times in a row and wishing and hoping and praying everything would come back to life. You took a deep breath, rushed to the closet where the panel that held your home's power was, and were disappointed to find flipping a few switches there did absolutely nothing. You didn't have time to worry. You couldn't let your kids down again.

Some of them were already lingering outside of the studio when you rushed in, stomping away snow. Little Louis actually cheered and dashed your way for a hug, like he did. You smiled, set at ease by the child's sweet nature.

Then you taught him and a dozen others to dance, and let your worries fade away for an hour and a half. George hadn't slipped into the studio when the clock ticked past your usual meeting time. You tried not to let yourself feel disappointed when your kids shuffled home. You only wrapped up for the day and started to worry over your situation all over again.

But as you locked the doors to the studio, Danny was making his way out into the hall, and George was trailing close behind.

"Hey kid!" Danny glowed, turning to greet you in the dim hall. You shot him a pleasant smile, despite everything, trying not to catch George's gaze. Because his expression was so familiar, now. And he was looking right at you in a way you realized he so often did. And you'd let him down last week, and you had to do it again, now.

He shouldered past Danny as the bulky fellow seemed to decide to go home. He gave you both a quick goodnight before making his way toward the heavy doors. Then you were left alone with the guy you hadn't stopped thinking of since the time he held an ice pack to your knuckles.

"Where've you been?" He asked, like he was much more concerned than disappointed. And while that was nice, it wasn't enough to stop you from wanting to cry a little. God you hoped you didn't look the way you felt.

"I'm so sorry I missed last weekend." You started, shifting in place, under George's study on you. "My water heater broke. Then my power went out. So, now I've got to go home and figure out what to do. I hate to miss another one of our dinners but-"

"What do you need?" His question interrupted your rambles to a halt. You held your breath and looked to the guy for a curious beat before explaining yourself.

"Well I'm just going to grab some things and find a place to stay. Probably just that Motel on Second Street. My landlord is such a-"

"The Second Street Motel?" George grimaced, like he had memories of the place he wasn't over yet. "That place is a dump. And they'll over charge you. Why don't... if you'd like... well you could stay with me." George's confident speech dwindled into something meek as he spoke on. It made you chuckle a little, the way he'd surprised you when you least expected it. And when a moment of quiet passed as you searched his stunning blues eyes, George spoke up more assuredly.

"Only if you want."

"Only if you're sure." Your smile fell away as dozen of nerves rose to your throat as you responded.

"Come on." He nodded, turning to the door in the same fashion he'd always do when you were headed to the one of the only other places you'd gone together. His ride to the urgent care was courteous. His company at DeAngelos was kind. And his offer for you to spend the night was an all new layer of generosity that made you feel the way you did when he touched you a few weeks ago.

///

He waited in his car while you used the flashlight on your phone to throw a few things in a bag. Between your toothbrush, your night clothes, and some things for the morning, you forced yourself not to think about what was happening. You just urged your feet to move and tried not to seem too excited to settle back into George's car.

He drove to his place in a silence that felt different than all the other times before. And when you stole a glance over to him, you could have sworn he'd just turned away from looking over to you. The thought danced through your mind till his vintage ride pulled to a stop outside a row of townhouses. They were just a few roads away from your own, in a quiet, bleak part of town.

George held open his front door as you stepped in from the cold, a baby blue backpack full of essentials in your clutch. And all of your expectations for what Geogre's home might have looked like were not only unmet, but left you with more questions about the guy than ever.

The home was neatly decorated in pale colors. Plants and picture frames decorated every shelf and corner, and the dish towel in his kitchen matched the tea kettle on the stove. It was reminiscent of a much older person's space, with a vibrant charm of someone much more spry. You padded to the cozy living room as Geogre disappeared around a corner, leaving you to think up a dozen more questions about the fellow you were determined to get to the bottom of.

As you eased onto the navy sofa and abandoned your bag, a light came on in the hall and an old orange cat came prancing toward your feet. You glanced down to the pet as it meowed up to you, and stretched to balance against your knees. You cooed, reaching to pet it, before the animal jumped into your lap.

"That's Sadie." George spoke, stepping into the room, slowly making his way toward the sofa. "I was going to apologize for her disregard for personal space but you don't seem to mind." He chuckled.

"Not at all, she's lovely." You grinned, cradling the cat like a baby as purs rattled her delicate frame. George seemed to watch on as you admired the pretty animal in your arms. And when you dared to look back up to him, he sat up a little, from where he was perched on the edge of the couch.

George said something about ordering take away from a place nearby, and you agreed with the condition that you got to pay for it, too make up for his kindness in letting you stay in his lovely home. And much to your surprise, when you realized it anyhow, you felt perfectly content waiting around with George, for the pizza to be delivered. He stuck to his end of the sofa, while you settled into yours, holding fast to Sadie all the while. You talked about usual things, and even laughed over some others, until there was a knock at the door.

George went to answer, as you trailed toward the kitchen, stopping in the hall to admire some of the photos on the wall. There were plenty of his family, or maybe just friends. And even some of George, dressed in boxing gloves, at who must have been his father's side. The older man who looked so much like George held up an award as his son stood by with a shy smile and messy hair.

George found you gawking at his frames on his mission to set the box of pizza on the table.

"This photo is sweet. Did you win this garish award?" You teased, turning to find George wearing a grin reminecent of the one he sported in the photo.

"I did." He said.

"But you don't really do this sort of thing anymore..." You spoke, halfway asking why in the gentlest way you knew that might pry open his closed off manner.

"No I haven't for a while." George said. He poured you both a strong drink, the kind DeAngelos didn't serve.

"Why is that?" You wondered, easing to one of the wooden paint chipped seats at George's kitchen table. You watched him take a sip of the dark liquid in his glass, as you reached for your own.

"It got to be too much." He said, easier than anytime before. Like he actually wanted to tell you. And you kept a quiet eye on him, hoping if you waited long enough, he'd keep talking.

And much to your patient delight, he did.

"I started going to Fit after school, when I had nothing better to do. I'd stay till close, because I didn't want to go home." George explained. You took small bites of pizza and listened on, eyes softly glued to George's every word. And as he ate, he told you that he didn't have a very easy time growing up. How his father was sick, and his mother was never around. How George never thought of his future because he was busy worrying about each day at a time. You could tell he didn't talk about it. Any of it. So you just kept sipping your drink and offering gentle encouragement for him to keep going. Because you wanted to know. You desperately cared to know.

George told you that on one of Bareny's regular stops in, the gym owner took notice of George. How he'd listen to the distant encouragement some coaches gave to students in the ring. How he didn't have the money to take those lessons and stuck to practicing on the mats in the corner. How Bareny noticed, and asked George if he'd like to be trained. How he took up the owners generous offer, free of charge.

And when you nudged him to keep talking by asking all the right questions, George explained that Barney helped him enter into matches that he won like an old pro. How exhilarating it was at first. But those nights would end and George would go home and he would hate it. You knew better than to ask why, as he moved on. You just hoped this was the beginning of him letting you in bit by bit. The first of many stories. You downed the last of your drink while George finished his pizza.

"Well you might not box anymore but I'd still love to watch you teach kids how." You laughed, watching George crack a smile across the table from you. He thanked you for covering dinner and you thanked him for letting you stay over. Then you launched into a sudden ramble about how stressed out you were about what to do, how it might be better to move than to keep combating your landlord. But how you didn't have the funds to put toward either of those options.

"God sorry I sound like a cry baby." You laughed, resting your glass in George's sink as he stored the left over pizza away.

"No you don't. You sound worried, and I'm sorry to hear it. Letting you stay over is the least I could do, really." George shrugged, shifting to face you. He stood a step away, keeping his intimidating gaze on yours. The kind of glare that might have made you feel small if you didn't know George. But you saw past the way he stood so tall and stoically. You saw more of him tonight than you ever had before. And that's what made you unsure of what to say next.

"I think I'll go get cleaned up now." You spoke with a gentle nod, heading to collect your bag. George showed you to the bathroom at the end of the hall before turning away and saying something about changing, himself.

You were left to bask at your reflection in the harsh golden light as the bathroom fan buzzed overhead. You dug through your backpack to find the nightclothes you'd brought along and thought of George as you stepped into the shower. The water was hot, pelting your shoulder blades with a warmth you hadn't had the luxury of experiencing all week. But you hurried along, mindful not to use up all the hot water.

When you changed and took a deep breath and peered back to the mirror, it was covered in steam. So you zipped up your backpack and made your way back out into George's home. Sadie was waiting patiently outside of the door. She wove between your feet as you took care not to step in her path before she settled to walk at your side. Was this some kind of dream, you wondered? Some kind of idyllic alternate universe, where nothing was the matter and the space you occupied was warm and safe and shared by the boy you hadn't stopped thinking of for months in a row?

At the end of the hall, George's bedroom door was open. A soft amber light shone from the bedside lamp you could see. George appeared into view as you were drawn to the space like a moth to a flame. He wore a tattered t-shirt and a pair of cotton joggers you'd never seen him wear before. His yellow hair appeared slightly damp and he looked happy, somewhere in the depths of his usually guarded expression. He looked at home.

Sadie brushed past your ankle, out of the hall and into the living room, leaving you and George the most alone you'd ever been.

He stalled in the doorway as you halted your floating closer. His eyes were softer than you'd ever seen them, sleepier; maybe.

"Right, well goodnight I suppose." You smiled, trying not to let your eyes rake over his figure. You could practically feel how close he was.

"Right." George seemed to decide, letting his eyes search yours for a beat before his glance drifted over your shoulder.

"I'll find you some blankets." He said, slowly stepping past you. But before he could drift down the hall you stopped him. Somehow, you spoke without even thinking, without even knowing you were brave enough.

All you said was his name, like a question. And that was all it took. George turned on a dime and kissed you. He crashed his lips against yours and tangled his long fingers in your hair as he cradled your head. His grip was the only thing holding you in place as you melted into a puddle, against him. When you started kissing George back, he moved one hand down the length of your side as he made one swift move to pin you against the wall. You couldn't help but let out a surprised breath, a sigh, a laugh of some kind.

George responded by kissing you harder, until you could hardly breath. And when you stopped kissing him back to do just that, you felt George's gentle grip against the exposed skin of your hip; tighten ever so slightly.

"Do I still have to sleep on your sofa?" You asked what felt like one dozen questions in one. Your fear of ruining the one in a million moment disguised by a lithe smile. George responded by letting out a laugh, his eyes nearly closing as he did. And when he was finished, he said;

"Come on."

You followed George to his bed, not daring to hide your excitement. He pulled you in with a smile, perhaps the broadest of smirks you'd seen him sport. There was still so much you longed to know about George. So many questions you were eager to ask, so many things you longed to hear him talk about. But spending the night sharing his pillow was a good place to start, you figured. You hadn't expected it of course. You never knew what was next with George. You'd only, simply, hoped for a next time. And with the way he looked at you now, and held on, you rekonned maybe he didn't want you to stray too far, either.

───※ ·❆· ※─── taglist: @haileymorelikestupid @maria-josefin @imaginesandyeah @queen-bunnyears @okaymackay

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #Boxer!George

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disslve · 4 years

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𝐲𝐞𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐰 & 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲 ! this is nai and my cowboy ass is here to throw roxy @ u and also tell u bad jokes and cry over life is strange 2 because i’m still not over this game and I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. just a heads up, i came up with roxy on a whim because this rp just looked so good, so if it seems like i don’t know what i’m talking about ... it’s most likely the case whoops . ( this is an excuse for me bringing shitty muses ). anyway, my fake cowboy ass loves to ramble so if you’re interested in plotting feel free to LIKE this post or hmu. i forgot to mention that i’m also a fake grandma so idk anything about discord at all and i still need to set it up which will happen in the next few days dsdnsdsdn.

ps: wanted connections/plots can be find in my wanted tag ( a link is on my blog ) and i’ll also list some below !

EDIT: discord name is nai #7158

* [ kristine froseth + cis-female + she/her ] —— have you met roxanne ‘roxy’ bailey ? they are a twenty-two year old junior currently studying romance languages and literatures. they live on decker house and word around campus is that this scorpio is compassionate + dedicated, as well as impatient + dishonest. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive.

basics.

full name: roxanne elise bailey

nicknames: roxy, rox

sexual orientation: bisexual

birth place: valencia, spain ( but only lived there for five years )

history.

one could say that roxy had lived an easy life, though her parents weren’t distinguished by their social status, it didn’t mean they lacked money which was enough to support their daughter in whatever she wanted to do.

truth to be told, roxy was indeed a little spoiled, the type of kids who would try all kind of things on the expenses of their parents only to quit a new ‘hobby’ again. she could barely stick to anything. she was some twisted kind of golden child, good at many things but never had the patience to continue something for long enough to cultivate it.

skipping over the part where she almost tried everything from arts, music etc. she finally found her passion ( and even roxy herself was surprised ). figure skating. she didn’t know what drew her in, she couldn’t explain it, she tried it and it felt right. roxy always describes the feeling as finding a soulmate if she feels extra dramatic that day.

unsurprisingly, she was good at it. not that kind of good at something she was at all the other things she tried before, but that being good at which stemmed from genuine interest. maybe, that is why she managed to get so far. and it didn’t take too long that people even started to call her a figure skating prodigy.

at this point at her life, she had it all, spinning the stars on her fingertips ( or warning bad pun ahead: spinning on the ice ). until, well, her parents company was in some crisis and they had to cut corners in the meantime. also oh so ‘conveniently’ roxy lived at the arse end of nowhere and getting to her practices was now even more difficult because as mentioned before they had to save their money for more necessary things. of course, there were more things , small and big, which totally threw her off ( which i am too lazy to list rn).

roxy tried to work part time, but a) the money wasn’t enough b) she didn’t want to cut more hours of training she managed to get. AND well, here comes the turning point and roxy thinking she was oh-so-smart without realizing that it would cost her career. oh-so-smart roxy came up with the idea to , well, just steal some stuff. after all, she trained with many other wealthy peers and she could just sell off their stuff or something.

at the beginning she only did it to afford certain things she needed, but soon it somehow became an addiction. she felt in control when everyone else in her life was an utter mess. however, the more she took things away from others the more she felt comfortable, doing it more often and sometimes taking things which weren’t even worth that much. it was only a matter of time until she was caught. and as if she was lucky for too long, the person who caught her pressured her into either giving them a hefty sum of money (which she didn’t have) or to quit figure skating. she decided for the latter.

well, here she was and her sudden departure was quite a shock. but she had no choice and stated it was for personal reasons.

skipping over her being devastated over it, etc. her parents managed to save their company (whatever this company is) but at this point it was already too late and roxy was accepted into holloway.

right now she actually wants to pick up her figure skating career again, however, she’s too afraid that the blackmailer is going to expose her and also she doesn’t really know who they are (lets pretend they wrote her letters, txt messages >??) and also she’s kind of afraid due to the lack of practice she had .

personality.

okay i’ll keep this short bcs i wrote way too much for her background story. but to sum it up, roxy kind of has that perfect girl facade. considering how many friends roxy has and how social she appears to be it is odd that no one seems to be able to describe her. roxy doesn’t want people to know who she truly is, and she keeps her distance as she actively avoids conflicts that might cause her to say something wrong and exposes herself.

she shields her feelings by only presenting polished version of herself, the facade of the perfect girl: kind, hard-working and polite. someone whose life is easy and someone who looks like she doesn’t have any worries. it doesn’t mean she isn’t anything of that, but it’s not as if her kindness has no bounds or that she doesn’t need to put effort into the things she does. nevertheless, she believes that she must be perfect in order to make people like her. and while, she is pretty good at masking her emotions and smile along, as soon as someone threatens to see past the illusion, she will become defensive and won’t hesitate to lie in order to preserve it.

plots.

best friends: although roxy pretty much keeps her distance from everyone else, this person had always stood by her side. maybe they knew about roxy’s sudden wannabe-thief phase ( which she is still in ) and well tried to talk her out of it ( which obviously didn’t work ). also adding some drama here and maybe they had a big argument over it and distanced from each othr because of it. however, my angst ass doesn’t want to ruin it and they’ll rekindle their friendship. they might meet again at holloway and it’s awkward at first, maybe they even have some arguments but they’ll get over it because everyone loves a good rekindled friendship story.

annoyance: someone who gets under roxy’s skin.seeing past the perfect girl face and constantly calling her out on it. maybe they just have fun annoying her and want to see what she really likes or they just don’t like roxy , thinking that beneath all of this act, she is a really unpleasant person. perhaps, they’re even doing it with good intentions and want to show her that she doesn’t need to hide who she is. whatever it is, they’re determined to expose to the world who she really is.

pen pal ??: muse a and roxy had been friends for a very long time, yet the funny thing is that they’ve never met each other nor do they know what the other look like. all they know is their name ( or maybe they only know each other by their usernames ) and their deepest secrets. maybe they already have crossed paths many times and perhaps even know each other but don’t like each other irl. or they never had noticed the other.

blackmailer: BECAUSE WHY NOT??? the person who forced roxy to give up on figure skating. maybe, they were a rival or just didn’t like her, or any other reason. they might as well, have noticed that roxy is secretly training again and might be back at their shit again.

exes: GIVE ME THE ANGST, maybe muse a and roxy used to be in a serious relationship and as naive they were back then both of them thought this love would last forever. however, at some point roxy started to distance herself from muse a, constantly cancelling their dates because of their busy schedule. at first muse a tried to be understanding towards her, but as time passed things only got worse. roxy hating any kind of conflict just decided to ignore the problem instead about talking about it and eventually stopped replying to muse a messages. muse a never really got to know the real reason behind their break up and was left with unanswered questions. but anything works

unrequited love: (this is just me throwing in my favourite way to make myself suffer) It doesn’t matter who is the one with the the one sided love because i just want some good angst.a) muse a has a crush on roxy, yet they never told her about it. yet, muse a can’t hide it and it doesn’t take too long until roxy notices it. but instead of trying to talk to muse a about it, roxy just ignores it acting as she usually does and perhaps even give them false hope that she might like them back. maybe muse a even confessed to her and because roxy didn’t want to hurt them she told muse a she’d think about it.

b) roxy has a crush on muse a but doesn’t admit it. she doesn’t want to show their vunerable side and just plays it down. maybe they’re friends and roxy doesn’t want to lose another friend. but one day she confesses to muse a on accident, making everything awkward between them.

someone she stole from: idk i thought this would be fun ? maybe she confessed to them about it or maybe they caught her but decided to not confront her about it.

fan: someone who used to watch her perfomances on their tv and is still not over the fact that she quit.

i also have a connection page on my blog if these are too specific or none of these work

i’m too tired to come up with more dsdsdnjsd but gimme everything !! THE ANGST, FLUFF, DRAMA PLS!!!

#did i use a special font just to highlight the yeehaw ?? yes #holloway.intro #this got so long djssdsdn

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todefine-istolimit · 4 years

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It Don’t Run in Our Blood- Chapter 3

Au: royalty

Rating: Mature

Ships: royality, dukexiety, loceit

Warnings: major character death (but not really), sympathetic dark sides

Summary: Roman is a prince in love with Patton, a commoner. Remus is a knight who has fallen in love with his trusted servant Virgil. Logan is the royal adviser who’s Love was lost at sea (But he’s not really dead. think princess bride here). Now the trouble is navigating laws, love, and social conventions, all while carrying around shiny swords! ((Title from Royals by Lorde))

If you prefer to read it on ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602698/chapters/51510424

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: welp here we go with chapter three, a little Remus perspective and pining~ (sorry I took forever to post again, this has actually been sitting in my docs for weeks and I just haven’t had time to edit it until today)

Remus stood by the door to the armoury watching for a moment as Virgil polished his armour. Virgil was like muscular, this had escaped Remus until yesterday when he joked about Virgil staring at him naked. Then Remus had realized he wished it was true, he wished Virgil would look at him like that.

Last night he had been hit with dreams that the situation had been the other way around and Remus had been the one staring.

Remus had a crush and he was dying because Virgil could have literally anyone he could possibly want and there was no way in hell his first choice was gonna be Remus after how much they argued and bicker. Especially since Remus was a prince and Virgil had always expressed disdain for the rich of the kingdom.

He cleared his throat and Virgil whipped around.

He visably relaxed when he saw it was Remus. Remus shook off the feelings that evoked and spoke, “Virgil, my brother has invited me on a trip to the summer mansion in the woods to ‘hunt’ and hide from the government. So, I will be leaving immediately to go disembowel animals with Logan to cover for my brother spending time with his boyfriend. If you would please saddle my horse then you can have a few days off to yourself to get boyfriend or kill a man your choice."

Remus hoped Virgil chose the second option, why did he keep bringing up Virgil getting a boyfriend? That was the last thing he wanted. The words just kept falling out of his mouth without meaning for them too. He hated the idea of Virgil being with someone else, but that was stupid because he wasn’t with Virgil.

He hoped that Virgil didn’t like his brother.

"You’re going out into the forest with just his majesty for back up? Please, as if. I’m coming with you,” Virgil rolled his eyes as if this was a given.

Remus would love for Virgil to come along but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from flirting with him if they were out in the woods without as many prying eyes.

“It’s not just with my brother, Logan will be there as well, and Patton.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah and Logan is the only one out of the four of you who keeps a level head in a crisis, I’m coming.”

Virgil could have phrased that last part many different ways that might have helped Remus’ mind not snicker a little at it.

Remus shook his head managing to restrain himself from just saying what was in his head for once, "Then I’ll just end up protecting you from being killed by assassins who would take your head for a trophy, so stay. You’ll just be a distraction,” Remus said being entirely truthful because even now Virgil was quite distracting.

“Oh please assassins aren’t even the concern. In those wood the thing to worry about is rock slides and you know it. And anyway, distracting from what? Making awkward conversation with Logan and trying to kill enough animals to make it seem like you guys were actually hunting? I’m the best hunter out of us anyway. ”

Virgil was right. Logan was the best swordsman out of them, Remus was the best at general combat, but Virgil was the only hunter worth his salt among them.

Remus was running out of good reasons for Virgil to stay.

Virgil shrugged, “But fine, I have a few days off. I might just so happen to wander into the forest following the same path that you guys did.” He smirked, knowing he won.

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, so he really didn’t have a choice in it anyway, “Fine just come then! What do I care? Get ready to go.”

Virgil grinned and Remus was almost certain he was going to have a heart attack if Virgil didn’t stop being this way immiediatly. Remus didn’t know what “this way” was, but he knew Virgil needed to stop being it or Remus would die from the strain of not saying anything.

The two of them made their way to the stable and Virgil started pulling out all the horse tack

Then Remus realized something, “Well if your coming you should go pick up Patton, it’s less suspicions for you to just be picking up your friend for a trip into the woods."

"Good point, here, you get the horses strapped up, ” Virgil ordered and dumped the saddle into Remus’ arms. Remus immediately lost his grip on it and it fell to the ground, but Virgil was already walking away. Remus was almost certain that was on purpose.

Remus knew that if it was anyone else doing that he would have fired them several times over, but this guy… it was like Remus was a puppet and anywhere Virgil tugged he just jerked in that direction. That should be scary, but Virgil had more than earned his trust.

He decided that if Virgil would be with them that weekend then he would tell Virgil how he felt. He hated having secrets and this one had been weighing on him for like almost a whole day now.

~some time later~

They were riding through the woods all five of them and Remus was chattering endlessly.

“-And of course those are just the natural disasters! But what we really should thinking about is the bandits who would just love to kidnap Patton and Virgil and hold them for ransom!”

“Okay I get Patton by why me?” Virgil asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Because they would ransom you I already said that, ” Remus rolled his eyes

“Well obviously he’s saying he would pay large sums of money for your safety. Which would indicate that he values your continued existence,” Logan said dryly, Remus had made the mistake of telling Logan about his crush.

“Yeah something like that,” Remus looked down at the past below him and his horse, hoping that nobody saw the blush building on his cheeks.

“Mr. Logan your embarrassing them!” Patton whispered.

“'Mr. Logan’?” Logan murmured in confusion.

Virgil cleared his throat, “Well if I had any I, I would pay large sums of it for you too."

Remus’ breath caught in his throat and he made a sound akin to a rabbit being struck by an arrow.

Roman grown loudly from the leading horse, "I cannot believe that after all this time the best you can offer each other is 'I wouldn’t let you get murdered by kidnappers’. Is that really the highest compliment you can offer each other?”

Virgil laughed, “Oh yeah your majesty let me just start being like you when Patton and constantly dote on how beautiful my prince is. Erm well that is- it- well not my prince of course! That wasn’t what I meant and… uh sorry.”

Remus didn’t mind being Virgil's… wait no focus diffuse the tension!

“Aww Virgil do you think I’m beautiful?” Remus laughed. Virgil was beautiful in the way the ocean was during a storm. Throwing boats against the rocks, shattering them. You were a little afraid of what would happen if you went too close. You might lose yourself.

And die a horrific painful death but that part didn’t apply here.

“So what was that you were saying about wild animals?” Virgil said changing the subject not at all smoothly.l

“Yes!” He said looking around frantically for something to talk about, “yes there’s wild animals all over these woods. Rabbits, squirrels that the chew your toes off of your feet and rip out your hair!”

“Remus they’re squirrels not exactly monsters,” Virgil laughed

Remus stopped short, “What did you just call me?”

Virgil stopped too and looked at Remus with wide eyes realizing what he said, “I’m sorry! I meant your highness, sire! I didn’t mean to call you by your name, of course…” He exhaled heavily, “God I’m just going to go ride at the back of the group.”

And Virgil fell back as the rest of them continue riding leaving Logan riding in between himself and Remus.

It was a long ride after that.

tag list: @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @melodiread @itismakyo @dabookwormcat @lo-ceit @gayformlessblob @ollyollyoxinfree

#dukexiety #loceit #royality #royalty au #sanders sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #my writing

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masqueradelydia · 5 years

Text

Maladjustment

Summary: A continuation of Adjustment. Remus prepares for and delivers a new performance.

Characters: Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, some characters I made up whose names aren’t important (The last names are different)

Warnings: None

Ships: N/A

Words: 5754

(Adjustment is here: https://masqueradelydia.tumblr.com/post/186685098818/adjustment-to-personhood if you want to read it first, but it isn’t necessary to read this piece.

Remus swallowed. Something in his lower intestine begged to flip his organs inside out as he stood up from the little table in front of his fold-up bed and broken lampshade. Papers were strewn about, carefully kept away from the open cans of preservatives, baked beans, and littered Snickers wrappers, along with several tissues that had hardly been aimed anywhere near the trash can. He’d tried to keep them away from the part where the ceiling leakage would drip to the floor and where that ever-growing mold sliding along the edges of the wall, and away from any cracks where something could crawl through and nibble at them. These papers piled up in droves by his feet and around his ankles like mice waiting to scatter around his apartment, but Remus had meant to keep them on the table as he pored over the notes and sketches written on them, trying not to recite the lines on them loudly enough to receive a haranguing from the man next door, or receive another attempt at a hole being punched through his door. It wasn’t his neighbor’s fault after all that Remus couldn’t ever sit still long enough to be quiet.

Remus should’ve thrown away all of these old papers, but they were still a part of the first project he’d done that would send him towards the life he’d stayed up all night for. His feet wouldn’t stop tapping as he wrote, as if the light from above some stage was getting ever so much closer to them, wanting them to step forward, despite his worn sneakers having so many holes he could feel the concrete through half of the right sole and his nicest jacket being frayed at the sleeves and the collar of it was almost completely detached from the rest of it. His hands wouldn’t stop moving either as he wrote out extra details to his stand-up routine for the night.

He didn’t think about the sweat building up so much that he felt like it would drip into his eyes and ears, or the faces his friends made the first time he ran his routine by them, the way that Em’s eyes shifted as she cracked the faintest of smiles, or Cal’s drawn out sight and wide-eyed shake of his head as if he’d sat through a lecture. He wasn’t think about Silas’s hands circling his own beer bottle, his face thoroughly transfixed by its design during Remus’s quips and queries. He was going over his routine as it was right now, with its timing and phrasing, elaboration and cuts just enough to give him time to flash a certain kind of grin, the new stories he’d tell cut to their bare essentials and just enough punchlines where they needed to be. He nodded to himself as he looked up to the door, which was about to come off of its hinges from all of the knocking.

“Remus! Come on out, our flight leaves in two hours,” Silas’s silvery voice sing-songed from the other side.

“Finish up your makeup, bitch,” Em called out, a certain twang to her tone.

She’d probably collapse laughing if she’d ever seen how he’d worn it back in the day, at least, when he still had access to it. She was always insistent on dressing her best, even if that just meant an old tank top and a nice haircut. Silas, on the other hand, preferred to show up exactly as he was with his hair up and the occasional wristband.

Picking up his last draft covered in coffee stains, different colored pen marks, and a little bit of sweat, more than he’d like to admit, Remus went to open the door and was pulled out of it by his collar. One more tear wouldn’t hurt it. Silas slapped him on the back and started to lead him down the hall, the three of them ignoring the person twitching in her sleep a few feet away from them.

“Look at you, you actually showered,” Silas chirped.

“And early, too. If we were late, I would tear my eyes out and eat them, and throw them up with all of my guts!”

“Eugh, we get it. I guess this is understandable, being nervous or whatever, but your set better not make me regret missing my third beer tonight,” Em added with a grumble.

“You’ll never want to drink again,” Remus assured her.

This got him a light chuckle from her as they reached the front door and headed for Silas’s truck covered in key marks and fading paint, and some old food residue by the tires. Silas had hauled the other two home drunk on multiple occasions in it, and Remus would count today as the first in months that he wasn’t told that if he threw up in this thing that Silas would kick him out and he would have to walk seven miles back to his apartment.

Then again, if he hadn’t been out in the snow on one of the many days Silas had followed through with this threat, he wouldn’t have found Gossamer Scruff, a small rat he had hoped would have been alive for longer than a week had Cal not dropped him down the sewer, but today, Remus did not want to remember mourning a three-day old rat he would have not cared for at all three years ago. Cal didn’t see anything worth bemoaning, and Remus supposed it was strange for him to consider it, especially considering that he’d eaten more than one rat on occasion of a few relentless dares.

“Did you fix up that story about that actor breakin’ your rib,” Silas asked, poking his chest and bringing him back to the present.

He winced, still not convinced the pain that came with it was normal.

“Down to the millimeter,” Remus announced, sitting up straight and crossing his arms.

“You look like a cat when you smile like that,” Em said.

“Like the Cheshire Cat? Or those weird hairless ones with the wrinkles—”

“Like one that couldn’t scratch me if it tried,” she finished.

Silas didn’t let him reflect on that for more than a second.

“Hey, what’d I tell you? Took you forever, but look what you’re doing! You’re finally scraping up something I haven’t been falling asleep to.”

“Don’t tell me that my old stuff didn’t at least give you one nightmare, come on, now.”

Silas put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in as if telling him a deep secret. The smile starting to creep towards the corner of Remus’s mouth halted itself as Silas declared,

“It gave me visions of nothing but static. I’d rather have my ass run through with a shotgun. At least I’d have something to look at.”

Remus sat back and avoided slumping as Silas turned the corner. That old stuff had turned into something that Silas still hadn’t fully heard, although he had a good lot of it run by him. It wasn’t a choice out of nowhere for Remus to follow all of Silas’s advice, and Silas would know from holding concerts that were so popular that it resulted in people lining up at the doors hours before it had started, and why Remus could never get past the middle rows, and why Silas couldn’t hear him cheering him on.

Silas, of course, wasn’t the only influence. Every minute of each day, Remus repeated parts of his routine to himself, tweaking it according to every rule of comedy and performance he knew that he admitted could be of use to him. He repeated it and kept those rules in his head, even if Roman’s occasional criticisms fell in with it, not letting him forget that Thomas could do better if Remus didn’t try to step on Roman’s toes all the time whenever he so much as looked at a playbill.

Perhaps in the Mindscape everything seemed so sugarcoated because of the way that they would all tiptoe around everything, but afterwards, the realization that everything was crafted in a curiously particular way for the reason of nuances that he did not quite hold became clear. It could have been much better if he had been more involved, perhaps even more nuanced, but neither he nor Roman were given the gift of subtlety. At least, not when they were still getting their bearings. Roman had learned to grow into it and embody the façade of subtlety over years of scrutinizing himself and participating in Thomas’s acting career. Pretty soon, it started to appear after Remus had been on his own that his insistence on shining light on the heavier aspects of life was just that. Insistence.

Without the chance to mimic the things that both he and Roman could have used, even separately, if he were able to peer through the crack of the wall that kept him hidden, he found the echoes he could manage to make out of Roman scrutinizing himself in the voices of his own acting instructors, with sometimes a certain flick of their head sending something unpleasant down the center of Remus’s spine and a sickly sweet taste in his mouth. He was different, though, he told himself. He was not using it to create something that people will tell their children as lighthearted bedtime stories. He was using it to grow his artwork into something that would actually stick with people, that would bore itself into their minds in the middle of the night and give them visions in their sleep that would frighten and entertain them in a way that could not be explained away just with words. Remus did not want to create his work based upon cheap fairytales that people would forget about, even if it was easier for most other people, even if those things brought them joy instead of irritation, and even if everywhere he looked since he’d come into existence, he’d seen those who’d chosen that path walk the red carpet and bask in the light of everyone who loved them. Ingenuity didn’t matter to them, did it?

Remus latched onto every change he made to his routine and diagnosed it for anything that Silas or an esteemed director would so much as blink disapprovingly at in order to polish it up. It required ignoring how much his chest hurt when he turned a certain way to sell a few little pauses, and reciting and experimenting on his inflections was a part of the process until his throat felt raw. Most of everyone he knew wouldn’t be pleased to fall off of the back of their trash truck at work and almost be thrown off of it in frustration minutes later because he was trying to craft nuance on a particular part of his piece, but that is a story for another day.

Em leaned on the back of his seat, pulling on a piece of his hair as if inspecting it for fleas after looking down at his phone bumping every few feet. It had several cracks in it, but still managed to work. If they were lucky, Silas’s car charger would get it up to fifty percent once they had reached the airport.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you dyed your hair again, didn’t you? I guess I’m getting used to it more since you cut it above your ears.”

“Grey doesn’t make a massive impression like this does,” Remus told her, gesturing to the two green streaks over his brown hair.

There had been more grey to cover up since when he’d first moved here, and he’d found himself considering that fact more often than he’d have liked to once he’d started performing his first, for once, growing stand-up routine as the littering of grey over the front of his bangs had started to encroach further and further towards his roots, weaving itself through the sides of his head and down to the hair that grew towards the back of his neck, and was the first of it to reach his shoulders before he had finally decided to get a proper haircut instead of working with a pair of safety scissors over his sink, leaving them in the bowl of it to try again each day over the course of about a week and a half to get it right.

“It’ll certainly turn a few heads. Keep your head straight and meet their eyes tonight.” Silas added.

“I’ve timed it all out. I’ll stare at them until they want to run on stage and chop my head off to get me to stop it.”

This received a “Mmm,” and a low “Hm,” from both of them.

“Within reason,” Remus tacked on, trying to stare at both of them as he felt his voice drop off towards a bit of a growl.

They took a short stop at the dry-cleaners to pick up Remus’s suit jacket, made with diagonal, fat green lines running up from the waist to the shoulder and arms. Putting it on, Remus had almost felt like he’d grown into it over the past two weeks. Why this was, he wasn’t sure. He’d come up with the basic idea himself, although Cal and Em had been the ones to help him pay for it. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been getting a little more used to seeing bigger and bigger crowds at his own shows, and people cheering his name after he’d opened for a few comedians who had already made quite the name for themselves, at least, in the local area. He got used to seeing Silas crack a bright smile and let out a real laugh at more and more of his punch lines, and Cal had even dropped his bottle out of his hand from being a little more enraptured by Remus’s story about the time that he had manage to distract an angry group of hecklers at one of Silas’s concerts by demonstrating his ability to pop his shoulder out and pull a condom through his mouth after snorting it up his nose. Em’s head shakes had turned a bit more playful rather than disdainful as well. While Silas had decided to wait in the car for them, Remus’s tailor prattled to Em and himself.

“You know, my son wanted to become a comedian when he was little. He thought he was going to be the next Conan or something. Do you two ever watch that show? I think it’s a little bit over-dramatic, but I wouldn’t know all that much about it.”

“Thanks for the help, Donny,” Remus started. “But if we don’t leave now, my agent is going to have my ass on a stick.”

“Oh, you don’t have to elaborate any further. I know from my son how important punctual-ness is, he would always get in a tizzy if he wasn’t the first to show up at his improv classes.”

“We really can’t—”

“Em, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you before your shift’s usually over, you look nice today. I know you usually do, but today you look like you’ve really put on your face, if you know what I mean.”

“I do what I can, you know,” Em said with an eye roll as she ushered herself and Remus out the door and back to the car.

Remus knew that Donny was a little bit chatty, but it felt like it was almost half an hour before he had let them leave. Despite this, he had almost forgotten to be surprised that Donny had not at least told him to break a leg that night, as he usually did whenever they saw him. Must have slipped his mind.

Em had her ears covered at the sound of the jet engines whirring in all of their ears while they climbed the railing, up to a small seating section. The pilot, keeping her eyes forward as she ran her fingers over the many buttons and switches on her control panel, cleared her throat and pointed to the seats behind them and the champagne in their cupholders.

“We’ll be lifting off in precisely five minutes, so please take your seat, Mr. Morgan. Your stewardess will be with you shortly. Please refrain from using any electronic devices while you’re at it.”

Remus nodded and followed Em and Silas towards the leather seats. Remus’s agent, Ellis, was already sitting in the front seat, looking over his sunglasses at all of them.

“I see you’ve decided to bring your little friends along, eh? I guess a little moral support can’t be a bad thing,” he sneered, narrowing his eyes at Em and Silas.

“Get the stick out of your ass, it’s so far up I can see it through your teeth,” Remus joked, sitting down next to him.

“You’re the first person who’s made it this far without one up your own.”

“I can find something more exciting than a stick to—”

Ellis held up a hand, using the other to adjust one of his cufflinks keeping his impeccable black suit to a standard Remus didn’t even consider before he had met him.

“Save it for the show, hot-shot.”

“Fine.”

“Where do you think they get this leather from,” Silas wondered out loud.

“They skin cows for it, I think, and then they rip out their organs and bleed them out, and then they turn their skin into leather,” Remus told him.

Em gagged next to him.

“How the hell do you know that?”

Remus shrugged, suddenly wanting to reach into the back of his mind to remember who had particularly taught that to Thomas, and how he had managed to remember it.

“Some teacher in middle school told me,” he started, gesticulating as he began to elaborate. “I wanted to know all the details, it was—”

“Remus, shut up for a second, I just remembered something!”

Silas pointed to Remus’s phone, which had been thankfully charged enough to last him the rest of the night.

“When you were in the dry cleaners, you got a bunch of voicemails. I think they’re from some people you know. They wanted to talk to you, but I told them you’d talk to them after your set.”

Remus sat up straight, his face now perplexed as he twisted himself around.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Who called? What do they want from me?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention, I was taking a smoke when they called. You weren’t going to be able to talk to them anyway, I don’t think it was important. It was probably just some scammers.”

That got Remus to sit back and lean his head on the seat.

“Oh. You should ‘a told them to go fuck themselves for me.”

“You can do that yourself when we land. Don’t hold your breath, it’ll be about six hours.”

“Eh, I have bigger fish to gut anyway.”

Em would have corrected him on his phrasing, but didn’t feel like speaking up as she prepared herself for a nice little nap.

Ellis frowned at the sight of Remus’s routine in his hand, refusing to touch it with his own as Remus tried to hand it to him.

“Don’t shove that at me, it’s covered in coffee rings.”

A little scoff from him told Remus that no matter what he did, Ellis would not be convinced to pick it up.

“Do you want me to read it to you, then?”

“No, I want you to throw it out the window. Yes, read it! You told me you changed at least half of it last night, I want to hear how you’ve done that. This is your jumping point. If you nail this, I guarantee you will have your own television show and your own Netflix special by next August.”

The next six hours were spent with Remus reciting his routine from perfect memory, trying to change his gyro graphical stability in the process of the jet’s movements in order to ensure that his own were held the exact place he wanted them, keeping Ellis’ every flick of the eyes in mind. While this caused him to stumble quite a few times and hit his head twice and distract his friends when he’d landed on his ass, this didn’t stop him from getting back up and picking it up again, even if it required repeating a few certain lines over and over again.

Ellis nearly shoved him off of the jet once it had landed and the door had opened, covering his head with a black sheet. Remus was partially thankful for this as he felt nearly blinded by the camera flashes, and didn’t know which way to look. He was getting a little bit more used to hearing his name said so loudly, but this was the first time he’d heard it from so many paparazzi trying to clamor over them as they squeezed into the limousine waiting for them. He could hear Ellis shouting at Silas and Em as they veered off to grab a taxi. Soon enough, he would get used to this, and it would become some sort of routine for him, wouldn’t it? Maybe in a few weeks he would even take the time to scroll through his phone instead of keeping his eyes on Ellis rapidly repeating directions to the chauffeur.

After repeating this process, he was led down a small red carpet towards what he assumed to be his dressing room. He almost stopped in his footsteps as he looked down at it and the ropes holding back the paparazzi again flashing cameras in his face. This was just the first step of what he had been looking for since he had come into existence. It was the start of everything he could only hope to hold himself back from really thinking of during his time sitting in a nearly light-less room in the Mindscape, listening to everyone talk over each other and hardly have the energy to pay attention to any of them. He had no time to dwell on this as Ellis pushed him forward and through a door that someone had pulled open for them.

“Come on!”

Inside, a small crowd of people all dressed in black carrying makeup brushes, clothing racks, speakers, wires, and set pieces. A gangly woman with a handful of makeup brushes ran towards him and pulled him into a rolling chair towards a mirror, turning him to face her and looking him up and down.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes before you go on. Tilt your chin up, you look much too pale.”

He did as she instructed, finding her hand keeping his jaw shut as she held his face still, smearing his face with foundation, layering it over with bronzer and brushing his eyebrows with a small tool he’d only seen Em use.

“Jake, come fix his hair,” the woman called.

It only took about three seconds before a shorter man bustled over and ran a brush through his hair, followed by a fine comb and pushing it so that it stayed out of his face when the hairspray came. He pulled on it when Remus coughed.

“Sorry, should’ve given you some warning, kid. Give me a second.”

He gave Remus a few more tugs and another puff of hairspray before bidding him good luck and running off somewhere else. Remus didn’t want to say he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, because he did, but he still felt a little bit dissonant from his reflection. He knew why he was here, and had been kept up on so many nights wondering what this would feel like, looking at himself backstage of a performance of this scale. He knew not everyone rose to be on The Late Late Show in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t as if he had just woken up yesterday and thought it would be fun to do stand-up.

He had fifteen minutes before he was on. He didn’t have time to overthink things, he thought, as he pulled out his phone. Huh. He had three new voicemails, but they weren’t from scammers. Nearly dropping his phone in his haste, he put the phone up to his ear and played the first one. An enunciated voice spoke through.

“Hey, uh, I’d start with asking how you’re doing, but, eh, it seems I don’t have to! You’re doing pretty well for yourself after all, aren’t you? I heard about you all the way out here in Los Angeles! Well, I guess you’ll be here too by the time you get this, but, uh, I want you to know something. I won’t be there tonight, I’ve got an interview, but I know I never really listened to you back in the day. I don’t even know if this will mean all that much to you, after all of, whatever people call it, sibling bonding, we missed out on. I knew you could’ve done something like this, if you pushed yourself. And you did. You made us all look a bit foolish, didn’t you? I guess we had it coming to us. We had it coming.”

A pause.

“But that’s not the point. I’m… I’m proud of you. Break a leg.”

Thirty seconds passed before Remus could register what he’d just heard. A voice he hadn’t heard since the last time he’d heard Roman screeching at him to pretend they’d never met, to scrape by on his own and taste what it feels like to deal with the consequences of being who he was. And now, this. Something pumped its way back into Remus’s lower intestine as the corners of his mouth reached up for his ears. The word, Proud, sounded almost different when someone said it to him, and he was not prepared for what it would sound like, with Roman’s voice cracking and breathing it into the microphone as if he had been waiting forever to say it. Remus swallowed again and let himself take another thirty seconds to collect himself as he played the next voice mail. It began with a long sigh.

“So, you’re hot shit now. That’s fantastic, I guess. I got a call from someone telling me all about you being on The Late Late Show or something like that. You went from being a disease to whatever you call this. Congratulations. I’m… I’m rooting you on from Dark Owl Records. It sounds stupid, but I actually have a couple of my friends in here at the bar. We’re watching for you right now.” The voice softened. “You’ve got this.”

He was surprised Virgil had bothered to call at all, but hung onto his long drawl. Virgil had never claimed to be a nice person, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be when he wanted to be. And one of those times was for Remus. Maybe a rare moment, but maybe it would be worth it if Virgil could see the look on Remus’s face that even he himself couldn’t see, turned away from the mirror.

The last voice mail practically had music coming from behind it, a bouncy piano that had before sent Remus running to his room before he was told to stay away from the family.

“Remus! I can’t wait to see your face on TV! I knew you could turn yourself around if you just put away all of those bad impulses like I told you to! Oh, it took you so long, but you listened! You listened, and look at yourself! Don’t you feel so much better? You should, you should feel over the moon! Give it a ‘moo’ for me! A-hah! You’re going to do great! Remember to take deep breaths before you go on, okay? I’ll talk to you later. Break a leg, K—”

Patton must have ended the call before he could finish. It didn’t feel quite right hearing such encouraging things from Patton, as if he were just doing it because—he didn’t have time to think about that, Remus thought. He didn’t really know Remus very well despite their time in the Mindscape, not really, but he at least put in the effort. He was doing his best, after all, according to everyone else. The olive branch went out to everyone, Remus supposed. And that was enough for him right now.

Remus had to focus. He ran over his lines in his head, turning back to the mirror. He didn’t feel distant from his reflection anymore. He was present, grounded, and just a few minutes later his face would be visible to people who he never thought would meet him. Strangers, people who philosophized at night about such things he couldn’t even wrap his mind around who watched this show to wind down. People his age who were studying hard to pursue their college education, high school students in so many clubs that Remus wouldn’t be able to count them all. People his age who would not look at him two months ago because of the bruises on his neck and the gash running down his arm. It didn’t seem like a big deal then, but suddenly now it was. His own ingenuity was coming to the curtain.

“Remus, you’re on!”

He stood up, not knowing where the voice was coming from, but was quickly pulled up to the curtain. He breathed deeply and felt it in his hands, the fabric much lighter than what he’d expected, but this was television. It was not a theater stage. He shut his eyes, counted to three, and listened for the host.

“And now, everybody, you know him already, let’s give a warm welcome to Mr. Remus Morgan!”

Remus opened his eyes and pushed open the curtain, walking out expecting a microphone and a large stage, and the host sitting at his usual desk against the cityscape backdrop.

Confetti flew into his face as party favor noisemakers bombarded him, a few of them landing at his feet. He looked above and below himself, finding the floor and walls of a warehouse, and a ceiling stretching up to several fans. He looked in front of himself and saw Cal, Em, Silas, and several people who he’d seen coming to his shows all smiling back at him. They waited for a second to let their noise die down before shouting one single phrase in unison.

“The joke’s on you!”

Remus took a step back and looked here and there at all of these faces, looking down again to register that he was not standing on a platform, and there were no bright lights over his head. He wanted to pinch himself. He wanted to say he’d walked through the wrong door to some place he had just imagined, something he’d conjured up in one of his own dreams that he just hadn’t slept through yet. Above the heads of his onlookers was a large white banner, painted in shoddy writing to say, “Joke’s on Remus,” and two plastic wine glasses were attached to each side.

“Wh—”

“We did it! We had you eating out of the palm of our hands,” Em cut him off.

He tried again, but couldn’t get anything out before—

“All of this is fake! Everyone here is an actor! They’re all paid actors! We got you, Ree! All of your shows were a prank,” Silas shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Remus stepped back again, gripping the curtain in his hands to keep himself steady, only for it to rip. He’d stayed on his feet, thankfully, as he stared back at all of them with an open mouth and pulse beating upon his ears. That was it. He couldn’t take all of this in at once, and at the same time, his mind had forced him to. His mouth was dry, and he felt something bubbling up in his stomach, choking it back down his throat to keep it from spilling out all over the floor. He tried to say something, anything, but all that came out was air. Just air.

“You’re wondering why we’re doing this, aren’t you,” Em asked.

He just looked at her, his eyes starting to blur. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“Your comedy career is going nowhere, pal. This is the best you’re ever going to get! Oh, and those phone calls? Your other friends, they were in on it! They knew the whole time!”

He wouldn’t have believed them if he hadn’t checked his phone and found that all of them had still had him blocked. He couldn’t see their numbers, and it was as if they’d never existed in his phone at all as it dropped to the floor. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess his knees were about to buckle right about now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from hurling his guts out all over them. He couldn’t think about whether they deserved to be thrown up on now. One hand was on his face, keeping his head from pounding so hard that he really would pass out, and the other was forming a fist.

The voice that came out of him didn’t sound like himself. Not really, but he knew it was. He never wanted them to hear it like this, but he couldn’t change it now.

“What are you all expecting,” he asked, trying to keep his voice somewhat similar to how he’d presented it only last week. “Are you expecting me to fall apart? To cry? To crumble at your feet?”

A few murmurs rumbled through the crowd.

“Are you—”

A sort of… hiccup kept him from continuing. Somewhere in another universe, he wasn’t watching every good vision he’d had of himself fizzling out, dissolving into a melted mess of wax, quickly wrenching itself from all attainability and taking his throat on the way out. Somewhere in another universe, he was not currently denying everything he didn’t want to admit while simultaneously doing just that. Somewhere he was finding his fist flying right into Silas’s face, taking one of the chairs in front of him and using it as a ballista. Somewhere else, he wasn’t currently trying to put his voice together as it fell out of his mouth and rushed to the ears of everyone in the room. Somewhere, someone was proud of him.

A/N: The plot of this is piece based off of the episode The Gang Breaks Dee of Always Sunny. I don’t take credit for the idea since it came from them first.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic virgil #unsympathetic roman #ts sides #my writing #Concept AU

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gigilberry-wips · 5 years

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20 Facts About Charlotte (and family) That The Readers Will Not Be Given In The Story

So here I am trying to organize my thoughts and do some character building in order to answer some questions about my oc that someone was very nice to ask and which I still need to come up with answers for, carry on with your business don’t mind me

(for those who’re sticking around to read this, a warning: this is long as heck)

1. Charlie was known as that kid who’d always be full of questions and giving the adults a run for their money “Why do crocodiles have big noses?” “Where does the moon go?” “Why don’t humans have claws? Aren’t they more useful than fingernails?” “Why do people sleep?” “Why are we supposed to do this? Why can’t we do that?” “Why can’t we ask questions? How would anyone learn things if they don’t ask questions??”

2. In her family she’s closest to her older brother. She doesn’t always share her concerns with him but when she comes to him with her thoughts and questions she trusts his words.

3. One time she read in a book where a meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup was described so delectably that for one entire month she insisted on having that at least once a day (it’s like what happened with me and when I read about the ‘bread and butterflies’ from “Through The Looking Glass” and now if anyone ever offered me a towering stack of heavily buttered toast with an ocean of horrifically sugary milk tea I swear I will devour the whole thing no hesitation). She stopped being so vocally fussed with them after that but she never really got over it. So if, whenever she might see either one of those two (or both!!) in the wilds, be it in person or on television or if she just catches the smell of it, and if you happen to be looking at her already then you just might catch her making The. Biggest. Heart Eyes. Like the love of her life has appeared before her and she is going to run into their arms and both of them will head off into the sunset.

4. Her favorite things to get on Christmas and her birthday are “fun science projects for kids”, or puzzle and strategy games, or books that had riddles, secret codes, recipes, more experiments, and especially made-up languages in them. She’s filled entire notebooks with the languages that she’s learnt from books, from Morse Code to Tolkien elvish, and she can easily recall many of them from memory. She knows a lot of the most common kinds of numerical puzzles and algorithms that have been used, and partially due to that and partially because of how good she is in math she frequently makes computer related jokes about herself.

5. Charlie’s brother is doing an internship at a nearby aerospace museum and planetarium. He’s currently studying for a degree in astronomy and engineering and works as one of the technicians there, and about once a month Charlie’s family goes to visit and have a picnic nearby and spend the day there. Since it’s so close, her brother is able to go from home and usually drops her and her friends off to school in the mornings in his old, beat-up car because he’s a good brother and he loves his sister.

6. One time when Charlotte was little (about 7-8) she was loaned a textbook from her school about famous people that she had to do her homework from. Her brother caught her scribbling in it with a pencil one time and found out that she was replacing all the pronouns of the historical figures in it (Mr. Miss Alexander Graham Bell, he she invented, Mr. Miss Albert Einstein, he she discovered, etc.).

(She didn’t really have the words for it back then but essentially she was doing this because all of these Oh So Important People Of History(TM) Who Did Oh So Important Things(TM) were different from her and she was very strongly aware of that and it made her really, really angry. She thought that if the only thing anyone was ever going to teach her was White Man History(TM) and that’s the only thing that ever existed since the dawn of time and that’s the only thing she’d ever learn then she wasn’t just gonna sit there and swallow that like the rest of her classmates, thank you.)

The next day he bought her a book about famous women in history from all around the world. She read it cover to cover and has kept that book with her to this very day. It’s got pictures like this in it too :D -

[image description] Three women (left to right: Indian, Japanese, and Syrian) who graduated from the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1886

This is also one of the reasons why she likes Star Trek so much, and why she wants to learn so many languages.

[Edit: if anyone’s wondering, her brother’s the one who erased the pencil marks from her textbook. He told her since she’s the one who did it then she should be the one to remove it. But she refused to do it and she did not say sorry either. He knew she’d get in trouble if he told his parents or anyone about it, or if it was left alone, so he sat down with an eraser and methodically went through the book with it himself.

Charlie neither offered to help nor stopped him (she could’ve if she’d wanted to, she had cheeto crumbs on her fingers and she could’ve smeared them in the book or poked her brother with them but she didn’t); she just attached herself to his side and quietly glared because that textbook is Enemy #1 and no one should touch it as his hand patiently went through page after page and removed all traces of her vandalism]

7. Charlie loves her hair. When she was little one of her favorite shows was My Little Pony (don’t tell anyone but she still has a soft spot for it) and she wanted to have bright, colorful hair just like the other ponies did. One of her cousins was very fashion savvy and when she told her this, her cousin showed her all the fun hairstyles she could do with her own hair instead. She’s been growing out her hair ever since. Now Charlie and her brother are Long Hair Siblings(TM). :D

8. On the other hand, Charlie despises make up. When she was little she noticed that almost the only people that were on make up advertisements were white women, so in her head she thought that meant those pretty women owned the make up companies, right? Well, she looked it up and learned that the people who really owned the companies were not those women but instead ugly old men and that was when she came to the conclusion that advertisements are all full of lies and not to be trusted (also she learnt later that silicone rubber is used in making water proof mascara and her brain is forever scarred with that knowledge and now so is yours :DD)

9. When she got her first loose tooth she heard about the tooth fairy and how she takes teeth and leaves money. So her natural course of action was to look up the price of human teeth online. Then she took the case up with her father and told him all about her findings and how the tooth fairy was basically scamming everybody and should not be trusted. He found this entertaining enough that the morning after she lost her tooth she found a 2 dollar bill under her pillow. She kept it away safely and once she had enough “tooth money” she bought a whole set of glitter gel pens with it.

10. The number of times Charlie’s gone to a party can be counted on one hand, and that’s only because she was forced to go. One such house she’s frequented is one of her aunt’s and after all these years the only name she knows from there is the cat’s, whose name is Toast but she thought that was boring so in her head she renamed her as Clementine. She hasn’t told anyone else that she’s never learnt anyone else’s name but she has the feeling her brother knows.

11. She loves cats. She loves them so much. She was always such a solemn and serious little girl but the moment she saw a cat it’s like watching a toddler wandering after a butterfly. Abso-lutely adorable. She has these knitted cat socks and 2 cat plushies (one more worn than the other) and when she was 11 her parents let her and her brother adopt an orange kitten and she got to name it Tigger after one of her favorite childhood characters. In her friend group there are so many cat puns surrounding her. So many. (half of them are her own btw)

12. Charlotte is bisexual. I remember reading somewhere that it’s unrealistic to just have one lgbt kid all by their lonesome in any story worth telling and I agreed with that. I’ve also heard about the “disaster bisexual” troupe. In my cast of characters the one that fits it the most is Josie, so me being myself I flipped that troupe and instead made the most calm and collected one the bisexual kid (so instead of a disaster bisexual(TM) what we have is a distinguished bisexual(TM), thank you and good night). It’s not mentioned in the story because this story is told from Laila’s point of view and Charlie hasn’t told anyone about her sexuality, not her friends, not her family, not anyone. She learnt about it earlier than Laila did (when she was 13), but like it’s said in her intro she’s a very cautious and private person and it’ll take her a long time to think about something so personal openly let alone talk about it with anyone. I want to talk about this more in a separate post, and I’ve got a one shot planned that’ll focus on this too.

(Edit: so it turns out Charlie is in fact a bit of a disaster human and when I told her she comes off as smart and polished and good at judging people’s intentions she turned around and told me she also hisses under her breath at things she doesn’t like, lives in her room like it’s one giant nest, and sometimes forgets to eat and i find it too annoying to argue with my strong willed daughter so here we are goddamn)

13. For Charlie, feelings are ... awkward. They’re messy and confusing, and when she’s feeling too many things she needs a lot of alone time to sort through them and understand them. It’s not that she doesn’t feel anything, it’s just that she can’t usually identify what she feels from the whirlwind in her head in any proper way. And when people need comforting she doesn’t feel like she’s the best person for the job. But that’s not going to stop her from trying to help; if one of her friends comes to her with a problem then she’s going to help them find logical solutions to those problems. She knows her strengths and she tries her best to use them.

14. She finds it hard to cry. Even when she’s feeling too many things and she really wants to cry (because she thinks maybe that’ll help her, at least it’s scientifically proven to help) the tears won’t always come. Aside from early childhood, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s cried, and half of them are from when she was exhausted or shocked with sudden feelings. The other times feel random to her and often at odds with each other. (She can’t force herself to cry, she can’t fake her own emotions.)

15. One of the few times she remembers crying was the first time she saw the Aurora Borealis. She saw it in a movie theater, not in person, but to her it was like seeing the real thing. She was little at the time and when she saw it she was just - she was overwhelmed. She was overwhelmed with so many feelings, like happiness and beauty and wonderment. When they came out of the theater and her family saw her still crying they all started freaking out, until she tried to explain it to them (she was really choked up but she tried). She remembered describing it something like, “It’s like seeing music ... Mama, I think I saw music.” she counts this as the one time she expressed her words so artistically she doesn’t know how but she did. it was also one of those rare times she was envious of artistic people for being able to express human emotions so well (there’s that part in The Tale of Despereaux when he said that he “heard honey” when what he’d really heard was music that comes to my mind). Later, she was told what the lights were called and she decided then and there that if she ever had a daughter then she’d name her Aurora (no papa, not from Sleeping Beauty, this is different!). It was also around this time that she really got into learning about space.

16. Charlie’s a night owl. She loves being awake when all the world is asleep. She loves the silence and the clarity she feels in her thoughts when there is no one else around.

17. Charlotte has an “all things pink and glitter” obsession that she never quite grew out of and never really plans to. Her room is pink, her glasses are pink, her stationary is pink, most of her clothes are pink, and her favorite Care Bear and My Little Pony characters are also pink.

18. She got her glasses when she was around 10, and she even got to choose them herself. :D The sad thing was that she was only one of 2 kids in her grade who had glasses and the other one was who she considered to be an annoying prat, but the good news was that at least 3 girls in her year got braces and one of them was nice and called her glasses pretty and also she was the only one who’d done her braces sparkly so there.

19. Most her life she never had close friends. She was always considered too smart and aloof for them. She had her nose stuck in books and she always got the best grades in her year. She was also really good at chess and strategy games and not to brag but she’s even one a few awards for this and this quality was always something that alarmed and frustrated people to no end (read: boys who wanted to prank her and various arrogant, would-be bullies) when she would know all sorts of things about them that they never remembered telling her. What they didn’t know was that she gathered all that information just from observing them and listening to what they said. She’s a strategist and a planner and she delights in knowing more than everybody else, making it so that when she wasn’t purposefully faded into the background, she came off as intimidating and scary, and rightly so. You cross her or try to pull any nonsense around her and she’ll make you regret it.

20. Contrary to what I feel might be predictable for her, it wasn’t Hailey (the friendly and cheerful one) or Josie (the smart and sociable one) that pulled Charlie into Laila’s friend group, but instead it was Laila herself. Charlie might not be good when it comes to feelings, both hers and other people’s, but she’s an excellent judge of character. She doesn’t talk to her peers because she’s categorized them as not being her “type”. She sees them and thinks they’re silly and petty and loud and annoying. She gets impatient with how childish and flighty and apparently short of memory they are, how they haven’t yet decided what they want with their life, how they’re all sooooo fussed about what other people want them to be and how they haven’t made up their minds about who they want to be. Dealing with them is boring and somehow oddly exhausting, so she doesn’t waste her time with them.

She and Laila met through circumstance. And what she immediately got from Laila was that she was someone who was filled with something akin to gentle warmth. She saw someone who didn’t judge or expect things from her. Someone who didn’t raise her hackles or crowd her space, both physically and mentally. She saw a person who didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t, who didn’t really have anything to hide. Most of all, she saw in Laila someone who went about her day with honesty and good will in her actions towards others, who was genuine and caring. Those are things she’s not often found in other people, no matter their age. It’s something that she’s come to appreciate and respect in the rare, rare instances when she does find it. It took a while, but as she got to know Laila and her other friends better and hung out with them more often, she saw that she found a place where she felt like she could breathe.

#tfal: charlie #thrown for a loop #important #character building #oomph #how many hours did i spend on this?#my brain is mush #and i don't even care lol #i've had all these thoughts spinning around in my head for so many weeks now #so like not to be dramatic but i felt like i would l i t e r a l l y c o m b u s t if i didn't get all of this down in print #this was cathartic #and now i don't want to do any thinking for the rest of this evening #(btw the origin of this post is one friendly writer i know and i hope she knows this is all because of her)#aside from that i have one burning question #DO I TAG PEOPLE IN THINGS LIKE THIS? WOULD PEOPLE BE HAPPY TO SEE THINGS LIKE THIS??#I DON'T KNOW AND I'M WAY BEHIND IN FINDING OUT #heck #i really need to make that tagging post

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ruinationrp-blog · 7 years

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CORPORAL ANDERS “WARDOG” MALTHIER · 27 · TANK GUNNER · SHADOWED COMMANDO · TAKEN

"I’m afraid of the rain, because I sometimes see me dead in it.”

ORIGIN:

Haworth, England

TRAITS:

+ Decorous, Compassionate, Dogged

- Penitent, Insecure, Repressed

BIOGRAPHY:

THERE IS A WAR OUTSIDE, COME SEE THE BULLETS FLY.

Anders Evelyn Malthier was born to an Earl and a Countess at the dawn of a cool autumn. Predestined to become the family’s reigning patriarch upon his father’s passing, his birth and his tireless grooming were both long-awaited tasks. It was the reason Etta Geld had wed Alek Malthier (a loveless union born of self-sacrifice), and it was a reason to believe that a diminishing line of great nobility would continue to prosper. The afternoon his mother dropped a handful of agrimony and buttercups to the white, polished stone of the Abbey’s garden path, she was rushed promptly to her bedchambers with great fanfare. The labour was long and perilous, but in the end, the Malthier line was born a son. His mother, however, did not survive. Her thighs slick with blood, and her pale hair damp with sweat, she died in a fit of eclampsia with her son cooing in her arms.

Growing up on the estate with tutors and servants was isolating, even with two older sisters that fawned over him. It was the pressure put on Anders to mingle with other great families of prestige that was decidedly paralyzing. It didn’t help that his father was a harsh man, bred of the same expectations, who never smiled and could not bring himself to spare his son fond words or affections. He was, however, very involved in his son’s social affairs, taking great pains to ensure that the last living heir of the Malthier family was well-received by English society. Because of this constant charade, Anders cultivated a resentment for his father even at a very tender age.

In the midst of all of the pageantry and the etiquette, his studies were what made his life bearable. In the Abbey’s well-manicured gardens, and in the cramped, musty corners of the family library, Anders was taught of the great wars won by his ancestors, of the accomplishments of decorated men whose blood lived on in his veins. His tutor, Ira Crawley, a crooked old man with a wisp of white hair, offered some reprieve from the suffocating expectations that loomed over him. As strict and intelligent as he was, he was also kind and nurturing. Anders soaked it up as much as he could.

Over time, Alek began to blame his son for his wife’s death, accusing him of sapping the Malthier line of its heirs. Though Alek sought another wife himself amongst the tight-knit circle of pampered duchesses and countesses, his proposals were always turned down in lieu of a better suitor with brighter prospects. It was no secret that Worthing Abbey was quickly running out of money after a string of Lord Malthier’s bad investments. So, Anders carried the weight of his family’s survival on his shoulders, and did his best not to buckle under the pressure. He escaped into his studies, and found that a great love of literature and history lived within him. He even began to draft stories of his own, but this was kept intensely private; his father had made it known he believed the art of prose should remain a craft of the fairer sex.

As Anders grew into a young man, his prospects began to grow. Though he’d never been able to overcome his intense and pensive nature, age was kind to his appearance. Mis-matched eyes weren’t so troubling when accompanied with a mane of blonde hair, and a strong, square jaw. It was also his involvement with the British Army that poised him as a more eligible suitor, and though his father’s name carried him up the ranks with velocity, he seemed to do well in the stiff constraints of military life on his own. It seemed no less suffocating than his life at the Abbey.

Unfortunately, his meteoric rise on the radar of high society (along with the positive attention he had earned from his father) was halted when John Fairley, his father’s new valet, and his family moved into the neighbouring village of Hathorn. He had brought along his wife Ivy, and, to Anders’ looming detriment, their son Vincent (a young and enthusiastic motorist). At first, their lingering glances were enough, but it didn’t take long before innocent driving lessons evolved into secret trysts, and eventually, a dangerous love affair. Their plot to run away together was spoiled when Anders’ father caught them in a room at the Hathorn Inn, coiled in one another’s arms.

Not only had he killed his mother, but his perversion would end the Malthier family’s future and reputation forever.

The valet was promptly dismissed, and he and his family were asked to leave without even a recommendation of character. The following day, Anders’ arranged marriage was finalized to Mary O’Ahaern, the eldest daughter of an Irish Duke — a woman five years older than him whom he had met only once. Anders found her to be soft and willowy and kind, and thought her raven-black hair and pale, green eyes remarkable. Though he had nothing ill to say of her, he was unable to reciprocate her intimate touches, her soft, wanting gazes. His heart and his dreams had been torn away from him, and what was left had turned bitter on his tongue.

The eve before they were to be wed, Britain declared war on Germany.

DO YOU HEAR THE BATTLE CRY?

Alek Malthier did his best to ensure his only male heir was given a safe, and comfortable assignment. He pulled his threadbare strings, and shared cigars and brandy with the right men to ensure that Anders didn’t end up with the conscripts, and the low-born company men. But war proved a great equalizer among the classes, especially during a drought of young men, and Anders welcomed the fray like it was his only way out of his oppressive obligations at home. A way out of life, in general. Even though death and blood awaited him on the sodden fields of battle, that somehow seemed less complex than the webs of intrigue he’d escaped at the Abbey.

There was a symphony to be found in the hail of gunfire for Anders, the bleak plight of war in the face of such opposition calling to his romantic heart. He followed it into enemy territory with a grim determination. He had been beaten into subservience for so long, and now, he was feeling the tingle of waking limbs. Though he didn’t write letters home, he was constantly with a pen and paper, transcribing the horrific things he saw, indulging in the panic and fear that lived within him, and roared in the eyes of his fellow soldiers. He chased that feeling all the way to France where he and his platoon were separated by a mortar’s beastly blast. He awoke hours later to the sent of burning flesh and the sweet sting of shrapnel telling him he had survived.

For two days, he languished in those wood, skirting the shadows, hiding from the thrum of approaching tanks and sweeping phalanxes of enemy troops; their marching seemed quicker and more earnest than the beating of his own heart. At the end of his second day, he faced the very real possibility that he would die there with a festering bullet so deep in his shoulder the stench of it turned his stomach inside out. Lifting his gun any higher than his waist had become a chore. It was decidedly terrible luck that his meandering through the thicketed countryside landed him in sight of a skirmish on a winding country road. He found himself behind a troop of German soldiers surrounding a scorched peasant’s house, and taunting whoever resided within. It was clear to Anders that he could either go out fighting, and take some krauts with him, or he could drag himself back into the safe bounds of the woodlands and die like a wounded dog.

So, he took cover behind a stack of dry-rotted fence posts, and launched his last Mills bomb at them. The single, desperate (or stupid, depending who you talk to) act instigated a four hour long stand-off between him, three American soldiers sequestered inside the house, and 18 staunch and bloodthirsty Nazis. Somehow, they survived.

Despite his youth and up-bringing, this feat got him attention, and landed him in the Shadowed Commandos — under the pretense that he was simply filling in the empty seat of a deceased tank gunner. He’s determined to prove himself, or die trying.

FACECLAIM: Dominic Sherwood

#dominic sherwood #dominic sherwood fc #rp #lsrp #lsrpg #character #takenm #anders malthier #wardog

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okdr · 7 years

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A lot of reactions to the announcement about NU’EST member or members joining Produce 101

The first reaction:

I am a little sad. I am sad that it came to this: Them having to join a rookies show to get promotion. However, I don’t stand with the hate, the embarrassement nor the regret that most people have shown on Twitter. What’s done is done. I will forever admit that Pledis screwed up in so many ways, regarding how they marketed their products and how the communicate with the media and fans, but I am done with regretting. I’ve been done for years now. We all know that NU’EST debuted with a blast, had a lot of hype, and then some things went wrong and the Korean audience lost interest in them. But we also know there’s been people departing the fandom for other reasons, like them not liking their music or them not liking their change on concepts. It’s not always all on Pledis’ fault. Like it wasn’t with After School.

Yes, they pulled a weird move with the Chinese debut as NU’EST-M, but wasn’t their current release at the time failing to catch the audience’s attention? Yes, Pledis still lacked better ways to promote them, but it isn’t like they don’t arrange meetings with the fans all the time and try to upload different stuff on SNS to make their music better known. They lack on the Spam factor, they lack on properly managing their fancafes, and they lack on knowing were to expose the boys, how to properly use SNS and other media to expand their chances... but there was also some disinterest from the public and even some fans. I liked all what they’ve released, so far. It was hard to me to understand why people slept in most of their past 3 years come backs. It wasn’t always because they had been away. I’ve seen the comments complaining on their music and image too. Yes, the Japanese adventure and the fan reports that claim they had been mistreated in so many ways. I can’t confirm that, because I haven’t seen it. I do believe some of it, but that’s up to me and not necessarily a fact. What I believe we as a fandom lack: NU’EST has fandoms here and there, yet we fail to trully unite when it’s needed. I take the blame on that department. However, I was amazed and proud when last fall a few of these scattered fandoms united in an attempt to promote Love Paint’s come back and get it to win a show’s mutizen. I wonder why can’t this happen more often. Why can’t we work when the group is not promoting and keep streaming the hell of their recent come backs. You may think it’s not worth it but I believe it is, to burst views and searches is what makes them randomly appear into whoever opens a Youtube main page or a Melon search-bar. We lack on trending. A BTS member has done more in the past 48 hours than we, the fans, and they, the company, has done in the last 3 years for the group. I know that’s easy to blame it all on Pledis, I’m tired of seeing fans put all the blame into them, but I admit that as a fandom, we still lack a lot of power and, perhaps, the crazyness other fandoms have towards their idols when spamming everywhere. I don’t believe in the disbanding theories: In fact, it made me mad to see how vicious some netizens can be, quickly jumping into these sort of conclusions. Seeing the move to go to Produce 101 as a threat from the company. I mean, Pledis did have plans for the group and its members this 2017. In their official statement, they admit they had to fold activities. This means they had planned activities. Surely most of them were scheduled in Japan.

They expressed their intention to debut a soloist from the group too. Just let me be doubtful on that one a little. Not because I don’t believe they can’t have soloists from NU’EST, but because Pledis has changed plans so many times in their history and, perhaps, the solo depended on factors that weren’t assured yet. (I do believe that Baekho was the one working for it, seeing his V lives posts, it was either him or Minhyun). There was a time when Jung Ah was supposed to also get a solo single and all we had in the end was a duet with Han Dong Geung that was zero promoted. Honestly, I don’t believe even a bit that the company was planning to disband them. They spent a lot of money on their last year’s come backs. I know you may not feel they did. Because in the end, there were no mutizens and NU’EST didn’t appear in so many variety shows that could help them burst their sells. But those two mini-albums surely costed a hell of money, judging by their content, the music and the promotional videos. Any K-Pop release/come back, even the cheapest one, costs money. And Pledis hasn’t been spending this money when After School actually wanted a come back (when they expressed it a couple of years ago, when Jung Ah and Juyeon were still there), because they knew it wasn’t worth the profit. Yet, they spent it on NU’EST, despite all the damage the time they’ve spent overseas caused to their popularity and potential sells, and that their last releases hadn’t been succesful on sells terms. They even expressed some of their plans for 2017 for NU’EST. I don’t really believe they suddenly wanted to disband them. Companies usually wait till contracts expire or members start walking out on their own. I think we’ve all had enough examples with 4Minute or Rainbow. The Produce 101 wrong choice for a show:

My opinion on why I think it’s the wrong show, and makes it a sad decision, is that this is known as a show for Rookies. I am not embarrassed, it is a slap in the face, yes. But perhaps we all needed that slap. I was recently thinking about NU’EST and that perhaps the trouble with them and also with After School was that both were groups with years on their back, so that may be a disadvantage on the way they thought of themselves, not willing to start from scratch on promotional terms. In other words, perhaps we both, groups and fans, had been too high on our horses that couldn’t see the general audiences didn’t care, and that to them we’re as good as rookies. We haven’t tried hard enough, because we took it all for granted since we’re already sunbaenims. I trully thought a lot about that. I was all the time thinking on how Crayon Pop went to extreme lenghts to do stuff to be known back in the day, that they were rookies, but that perhaps, because they didn’t have the sunbaenims pride, they could do that stuff. I know that Crayon Pop’s success comes from an infectous song, but it wouldn’t mean a thing if they hadn’t worked a fanbase from scratch first and they weren’t willing to promote as hard as they did. I understand that whoever really decided on that, gave it a lot of thought to it. I am pretty sure no-one would willingly demote their product like that if it wasn’t necessary. It must be a hard decision to make, to admit you can’t be acting like a sunbaenim because the audience doesn’t even recognize you. Here we would go again with: ‘It’s Pledis fault from the start’. Yes, we all know where they failed, what they lacked. Yet, this is their way to try to do something about it. I don’t agree with the show choice. But I also admit that something was needed. A publicity stunt like this was needed. Even if I rather found them a show like the one that got Han Dong Geung’s music suddenly recognized and trully selling. Put Baekho or Minhyun in there, find Ren a drama or whatever. Put Aron into some International broadcasted show (through stream or whatever), find something for JR, he’s an amazing b-boy. However, they chose this show. They are already being disregarded for choosing a rookies’ show. Some people think it’s unfair. I think it’s unfair to the potential contestants that are on a trainee or rookie status. Even if I admit that NU’EST’s status has devaluated too much in Korea. I still think it makes it unfair because they do have a fandom others won’t. Even if some people in this fandom are heartbroken and done with it, they still have some advantage over the rest. That is the main reason why I find it wrong. The Produce 101 pros and cons: Stating aside the rookies factor, this show was having troubles to come out with this second season because most big companies didn’t want to take part on it. Some even said that they didn’t want their highly polished trainees to mix with poorly trained ones (they didn’t expressed this way, but that’s what they meant with it). Companies were also worried for the schedule’s conflicts that generated on the first season. So, I can see Pledis taking advantage of that and confirming they are sending a group that’s devaluated but still too good to ignore in a show like that (a member or more, not confirmed yet). Even if it was the members’ decision, as officially stated, they might had been able to foresee how they could take advantage of that. Because the show did a lot for a lot of girls and groups on the first season, but now the companies were mostly turning their backs on it. I am not one of the fans who complain about I.O.I. not being permanent, just to be clear. I don’t believe it’s a bad thing the group was temporary, just think how much hype it’s created for the members of the final line-up and how it helped already debuted groups that sent their rookies there. It brought them the needed attention to progress. I can totally see, whether if it’s been the members, one or the company, why they considered the show even when I believe it’s the wrong choice for them. Even if they/he (we don’t know who is joining exactly) don’t last till the end, it’s still exposure to an audience that’s obviously ignoring them right now. The cons are mostly that people will point out they aren’t rookies and mostly complain on why they are in the show. But I recall it also happened with a few of the first season contestants so, in the end, it will all depend on whether the haters campaign hard against them and the group or people can recognize them for being humble. The Humble move:

Whether it was Pledis or it was them, I still think it was a brave move to make. If I were a manager or someone involved in their team, it would really hurt me to make this decision. To admit that even when I tried to fix what I damaged with bad management decisions, I still need to throw them to a reality tv show to compete against rookies that probably nobody will know about.

I am even risking that the second season can’t live to the hype the first one created. It is a though decision. I imagine they also had to cancel or pospone activities that were previously planned. That means saying no to the little money that may income from their part for a show that doesn’t guarantee me they are going to profit from it. For a 5 year debuted group to send one or more members to a show where they will be treated as trainees and will be judged so hard and in so many ways, that must be though and scary. Yet, it’s a humble thing to do. They are accepting that they are no way near to where they are supposed to be, and they are trying to start from scratch. Even if hypothetically (like some people are saying) they are being forced, is still a brave thing to do. But just think on how hard it must be for them to see that their dongsaeng group is already bigger than what they ever were. Even counting the amount of views and expectation FACE brought them on their debut.

Whenever I open their V app channel or I go to their Youtube or the fancafe, I can’t help but think they must feel they have failed so hard that they can’t compare to the amount of subscriptors, views, members and attention that SEVENTEEN has. And perhaps, that gave them some thinking to do on why they don’t have it. Not just the old song about ‘because they went away’ but why they don’t have it now after attempting two come backs in one year. Why people failed to appreciate their first Long Lenght album too. Why the fact they are from the same company doesn’t pick the audience’s attention at all. That is why I am even sadder to see there’s people hating on them for announcing they would join the show. They are desperate, for sure, this screams ‘desperate move’ all the way around, but they aren’t afraid to admit it, because by joining Produce 101 they are admitting they do need the type of promotion it may bring to them so hard. Things we can do: Stop whinning. Being realistic, sad, etc. I understand, it’s OK, but I’ve seen some drama that’s honestly overboard. We should start focusing on how we can use this oportunity to redirect the audience’s attention to NU’EST’s music. Just don’t sit around waiting the hiatus will be over so their next come back collects the potential fruits the show may bring them. That won’t work, like it hasn’t worked expecting a sunbaenim group to do better without even trying hard enough to promote them. We need to keep streaming their music. For once, let’s try to watch their videos on their channel. CARATs managed to do that, I don’t see why ㄴㅇ ㅅ ㅌ s cannot do the same. I said it once last year: We must work when the other fandoms are sleeping. We shall try our best to burst their views on Youtube, we need to flood the seacrhbars on the Korean sites, etc. When the show starts, we need to support whoever ends up joining while keep the respect for the rest of contestants. Let’s try to be as humble as our boys and the company (as much as you want to hate Pledis for it) are being right now. As I read somewhere in Twitter: Is our opportunity to show we are a nice fandom that respects the others. Nobody can’t guarantee us that we will spend a whole year with the group not being active. I know the show is later than the last year’s season, but everything will depend on how long the NU’EST contestant/s will last. The company won’t want to loose time if it generates the attention they are seeking. They will surely release something in time. We must be patient. NU’EST weren’t about to disband, but I am pretty sure that if nothing like this would had happened, finding an opportunity to bigger exposure, at the end, they would had left when they contracts would expire in a few years (probably a couple of years).

This is our chance to make a difference and assure the company won’t sleep on them when the time for renewal comes. Last notes on the Company: I am a little tired of complaints about Pledis not spending their money on NU’EST. Even when I am one of the fans whom disagrees on how they always end up promoting poorly. Do you know whom was actually poorly treated in Pledis? Kahi got a solo debut that was literally underpromoted and then she had to wait till her graduation to see a second attempt at a solo release happen. Raina has had solo digital releases with actual ZERO promotion, despite the fact she had some momentum with her first duo project with San E. She didn’t even go to music shows to sing her song for the second release she had. Jung Ah got paired with Han Dong Geung and Pledis sat around waiting for netizens to realize this had happened. Han Dong Geung debuted and had to wait 2 years for some brilliant idea to have him on a music show that actually got him the attention he deserved. At least, NU’EST are being granted a thought to actually push them into a TV music show that did so much for their upcoming girl group Pristin. As cruel as you believe this may be, it still denotes that the company actually cares about their current situation and the fact all the money they’ve spent in the last 3 years for their Korean releases hasn’t brought in the necessary profit. If they didn’t care at all for them, they would be simply put on a corner while they tried to exploit the member/s that could be useful in other areas. Just like what is been happening with After School. Just the simple fact that they are willing to put such a move that some of you may consider embarrassing and shameful, is already showing that this company actually cares about what happens to them. With all that’s impliead in it, their mismanagement, their bad choices, everything that has contributed to NU’EST being in their current situation.

#NU'EST #NUEST #Pledis #Produce 101

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beyondforks · 7 years

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Playing Catch Up! Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver

Playing Catch Up has really been helping me through my ever growing TBR list. I'd like to welcome all other blogs to participate too! If you do, be sure to post your links in the comments section. I'd love to see your Playing Catch U

p Reviews, and I'm sure others would too!! *wink*

Want to know more about Playing Catch Up? I'll tell you all about it here!

Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver Genre: Young Adult (Contemporary/Romance) Date Published: October 25, 2010 Publisher: HarperCollins

With this stunning debut novel, New York Times bestselling author Lauren Oliver emerged as one of today's foremost authors of young adult fiction. Like Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why and Gayle Forman's If I Stay, Before I Fall raises thought-provoking questions about love, death, and how one person's life can affect so many others.

For popular high school senior Samantha Kingston, February 12—"Cupid Day"—should be one big party, a day of valentines and roses and the privileges that come with being at the top of the social pyramid. And it is…until she dies in a terrible accident that night.

However, she still wakes up the next morning. In fact, Sam lives the last day of her life seven times, until she realizes that by making even the slightest changes, she may hold more power than she ever imagined.

I'm not sure how I feel about this book, but days later, I'm still thinking about it so that has to mean something, right? I've been meaning to read Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver for a very long time, and it finally took seeing the movie trailer to light a fire under my butt and get it done. It looked like a movie I'd want to see, soooo naturally, I HAD to read the book first. This book was oddly good. I say "oddly" because the characters, especially the main character, aren't people I liked at all. They were selfish, superficial, and self absorbed. I spent so much time annoyed or mad at Sam.. it was crazy. Sam is pretty dense, and it takes her a long time to learn lessons. It's like she has no idea how to be a good person anymore. Her friends are the same, so they were unlikable in every way. With that all being said, if Sam and her friends were good people, we wouldn't have a story. So, if characters like these bother you as much as they do me, just hold on. There is a point to it all or rather a few points, but I'm not going to tell you what they are. Pretty much the only redeeming character was Kent, and I absolutely hate the turn of events that happen for him, and that whole situation taints the entire book for me. In fact, I'm still on the line between love and hate for this book because of him. There's a pattern to each day Sam relives, and like a puzzle, they start to piece together more and more until you get to the ending. I loved it, and I hated it. It was beautiful, and it was ugly. The words "oddly good" come into play again, because that's just the best two words I can think of to describe this book as a whole. There was an epilogue, but it was more of a continuation of the actual ending. I really wish the epilogue would have given us a look at the future of the characters instead, and it wouldn't even have to be far in the future. A week later, a day, even an hour or so... just to see what the characters took away from everything that took place. Was it all worth it? Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, that would have been very a nice(and I feel necessary) thing to know. And just a little personal side note. In what world is riding horses considered uncool? Does one even exist? I'm glad that's not my world. That's all I have to say about that. Anyway, back to my review. I have so many conflicting feelings about this book. I really don't know what else so say. So, I'll just end here by saying... it was oddly good.

They say that just before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes, but that's not how it happened for me. To be honest, I'd always thought the whole final-moment, mental life-scan-thing sounded pretty awful. Some things are better left buried and forgotten, as my mom would say. I'd be happy to forget all of fifth grade, for example (the glasses-and-pink-braces period), and does anybody want to relive the first day of middle school? Add in all of the boring family vacations, pointless algebra classes, period cramps and bad kisses I barely lived through the first time around... The truth is, though, I wouldn't have minded reliving my greatest hits: when Rob Cokran and I first hooked up in the middle of the dance floor at homecoming, so everyone saw and knew we were together; when Lindsay, Elody, Ally and I got drunk and tried to make snow angels in May, leaving person-sized imprints in Ally's lawn; my sweet sixteenth party, when we set out a hundred tea lights and we all danced on the table in the backyard; the time Lindsay and I pranked Clara Seuse on Halloween, got chased down by the cops, and laughed so hard we almost threw up. The things I wanted to remember; the things I wanted to be remembered for. But before I died I didn't think of Rob, or any other guy. I didn't think of all the outrageous things I'd done with my friends. I didn't even think of my family, or the way the morning light turns the walls in my bedroom the color of cream, or the way the azaleas outside of my window smell in July, a mixture of honey and cinnamon. Instead, I thought of Vicky Hallinan. Specifically, I thought of the time in 4th grade when Lindsay announced in front of the whole gym class that she wouldn't have Vicky on her dodgeball team. "She's too fat," Lindsay blurted out. "You could hit her with your eyes closed." I wasn't friends with Lindsay yet, but even then she had this way of saying things that made them hilarious, and I laughed along with everyone else while Vicky's face turned as purple as the wrinkled underside of a storm cloud. That's what I remembered in that before-death instant, when I was supposed to be having some big revelation about my past: the smell of varnish and the squeak of our sneakers on the polished floor; the tightness of my polyester shorts; the laughter echoing around the big empty space like there were way more than twenty-five people in the gym. And Vicky's face. The weird thing is that I hadn't thought about that in forever. It was one of those memories I didn't even know I remembered, if you know what I mean. It's not like Vicky was traumatized or anything. That's just the kind of thing that kids do to each other. It's no big deal. There's always going to be a person laughing and somebody getting laughed at. It happens every day, in every school, in every town in America--probably the world, for all I know. The whole point of growing up is learning to stay on the laughing side. Vicky wasn't very fat to begin with--just some baby weight on her face and stomach--and before high school she'd lost that and grown three inches. She even became friends with Lindsay. They played field hockey together and said hi in the halls. One time Vicky brought it up at a party our freshman year--we were all pretty tipsy--and we laughed and laughed, Vicky most of all, until her face turned almost as purple as it had all those years ago in the gym. That was weird thing number one. Even weirder than that was the fact that we'd all just been talking about it--how it would be just before you died, I mean. I don't remember exactly how it came up except that Elody was complaining that I always get shotgun and refusing to wear her seatbelt and kept leaning forward into the front seat to scroll through Lindsay's iPod, even though I was supposed to have deejay privileges. I was trying to explain my "greatest hits" theory of death and we were all picking out what those would be. Lindsay picked finding out that she got into Princeton, obviously, and Ally--who was complaining of the cold, as usual, and threatening to drop dead right there of pneumonia--participated long enough to say she wished she could relive her first hook-up with Matt Wilde forever, which surprised no one. Lindsay and Elody were smoking, and freezing rain was coming in through the cracked windows. The road was narrow and winding, and on either side of us the dark stripped branches of trees lashed back and forth, like the wind had set them dancing. Elody put on "With or Without You" to piss Ally off, maybe because she was sick of her whining. It was Ally's song with Matt, who had dumped her in September. Ally called her a bitch and unbuckled her seatbelt, leaning forward and trying to grab the iPod. Lindsay complained that someone was elbowing her in the neck. The cigarette dropped from her mouth and landed between her thighs. She started cursing and trying to brush the embers out from the seat cushion and Elody and Ally were still fighting and I was trying to talk over them, reminding them all of the time we'd made snow angels in May. The tires skidded a little on the wet road and the car was full of cigarette smoke, little wisps rising like phantoms in the air.Then all of a sudden there was a flash of white in front of the car. Lindsay yelled something--words I couldn't make out, something like Sit, or Shit, or Sight--and suddenly the car was flipping off of the road and into the black mouth of the woods. I heard a horrible, screeching sound--metal on metal, glass shattering, a car folding in two--and smelled fire. I had time to wonder whether Lindsay had put her cigarette out. Then Vicky Hallinan's face came rising out of the past. I heard laughter echoing and rolling all around me, swelling into a scream. Then nothing.

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Be sure to check out more books by Lauren Oliver!

Lauren Oliver comes from a family of writers and so has always (mistakenly) believed that spending hours in front of the computer every day, mulling over the difference between “chortling” and “chuckling,” is normal. She has always been an avid reader.

She attended the University of Chicago, where she continued to be as impractical as possible by majoring in philosophy and literature. After college, she attended the MFA program at NYU and worked briefly as the world’s worst editorial assistant, and only marginally better assistant editor, at a major publishing house in New York. Her major career contributions during this time were flouting the corporate dress code at every possible turn and repeatedly breaking the printer. Before I Fall is her first published novel.

She is deeply grateful for the chance to continue writing, as she has never been particularly good at anything else.

To learn more about Lauren Oliver and her books, visit her website. You can also find her on Goodreads, Twitter, and Facebook.

#Before I Fall #Lauren Oliver #contemporary #romance #young adult #Teaser #excerpt #playing catch up #original teaser

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matchingvnecks · 7 years

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Andrew Rannells: Girls’ Best Friend

As Girls enters its finale season, we visit its resident gay best friend Andrew Rannells for a look at how his career has evolved — along with his character on the hit series.

There’s no missing Andrew Rannells. From the instant he strides onstage in the current Broadway revival of Falsettos, you’ll notice that, at 6’1”, he towers over his costars. Put his bearded face on a product, and it would move a mountain of Brawny towels or sell enough cans of Manwich to feed an army. Clean-shaven — as Rannells is onstage tonight — he radiates a post-fratboy glow that still find him playing parts a decade younger than his 38 years. Rannells’ evolution from fresh to familiar face has been like watching an languid summer afternoon roll by. He’s gracefully lept from Promise Ring roles like Elder Price, which he originated in the hit musical The Book of Mormon, to more acerbic characters like Elijah, the one-man Greek chorus who appears to pamper (then puncture) the inflated egos of the galpals who populate the beloved HBO series, Girls. It’s not easy, he says, but “I know my skill set and my strengths. I just do what I do.” Stage vs. Screen In demand on two coasts, Rannells has a Red Bull-binge awareNess that this is his moment, and he’s determined to make the most of it. Much of the time, he ricochets from sitcom sets to the stages of Broadway stage. These days he’s wrapping up Girls’ sixth and final season. Between that and Falsettos, Rannells briefly stepped in to play King George in Hamilton when Jonathan Groff left to finish the Looking film finale. One can’t help but wonder how long Rannells thinks it’s possible to maintain this bustling bi-coastal, multi-media lifestyle — and whether one career path must ultimately win out. ”Well, theater will always be nearest and dearest,” Rannells muses. “It’s where I feel most comfortable and in control and happiest.” He knows it’s rare to be in such demand that he can pick and choose between theater and TV projects. But his coworkers and representation have long become accustomed to Rannell’s need to alternate between screen and stage: “They understand,” he says with certainty. “I need this to recharge.” Despite living in a maelstrom of activity, Rannells remains remarkably polite, grateful and calm. Why? “I’m fortunate to be a gay man at a time when there are great roles to play,” he explains. “I’ve been lucky that way, because I have no issue playing gay men — since I am one — as long as there’s a good script. You just have to find the right ones.” Finding His People Rannells attributes his breezy optimism to his Irish/Polish origins in Omaha, Nebraska, where he was born fourth of five children. Neither oldest nor youngest, Rannells had to distinguish himself somehow; theater quickly became his ticket out of obscurity. “I was not initially very outgoing,” he admits, “but through my involvement with theater, I gradually became more comfortable. “I do remember back in kindergarten I developed a strange little clique that lasted up through eighth grade,” he says, flashing that megawatt smile. “Three guys who eventually came out as gay. Obviously that was a godsend, because they were accepting of me and I of them — even though being gay was never openly spoken about. It was, somehow, something we understood between the three of us. I mean, I remember lip-syncing to Cher in my friend’s basement.” Rannells attended an all-boys Catholic high school where “it took me a second to find my people. But eventually I made a great group of friends, some of whom I’m still in touch with,” he recalls. “While it was all-male, it was also a Jesuit school, where the teachings are ones of acceptance and there’s a lot of room for interpretation of the scriptures.” As a teen, Rannells became a familiar fixture on local stages, and by 18 he’d landed a string of voice-over parts and a commercial spoofing Grease opposite a young Amy Adams. But New York was always tugging at his sleeve, and so — with little more than the zeal to perform — Rannells moved East and began parlaying his voiceover experience into directing cartoons for Fox and Warner Brothers. “I did Sonic the Hedgehog,” he laughs, “along with many others. I directed the voiceover portion. So there I was at 23, trying to get performances out of actors making these Saturday morning cartoons and trying to sync to the originals when we dubbed them over from Japanese.” At the same time, the sense of treading water gnawed at him, until finally something snapped, he says. “I was going deeper and deeper into debt; so I thought I’d see if could just get anywhere by auditioning.” Rannells quit school and began seeing casting agents.

Saying “Hello!” to Broadway In 2002, Rannells was cast to play the title role in an Austin, Texas production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. The show was a runaway hit and quickly ballooned from a four-week to a four-month run. He walked away with the local scene’s award for best actor in a musical. That was heartening, but only a hint of things to come. “My big break,” Rannells always says, “came from Hairspray.” “I was an understudy for nine months — then to get to be a lead on Broadway was something amazing.” By then, Hairspray was already in its third year; so although he could finally call himself a Broadway song-and-dance man, Rannells wasn’t exactly hot on the radar of industry professionals who could put him in bigger parts. His whole universe shifted again when the actor learned about a hush-hush project being assembled by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the creators of South Park. Rannells says he landed the lead in The Book Of Mormon the old fashioned way: by auditioning. “The people behind the show were very secretive, and all we really knew was: that it was about the Mormon church, it was a musical, and that Trey Parker and Matt Stone were doing it.” He heard that the producers were replacing the actor who’d played the role of Elder Price at early readings. “It was really fast,” he says. “It was three auditions: … Something clicked, and I was cast.” Soon after opening, the show became the hottest ticket in town. “I had no idea that it would become what it has,” Rannells admits, “but it was so funny and so smart, I knew we were going to have a very solid audience. It was a surprise that it’s as universal a hit as it has become, that it’s still running and traveled to Salt Lake City.” The Book of Dunham Book of Mormon also allowed Rannells to look for TV roles filmed in NYC. So he took an initially-peripheral role in Girls as Elijah, ex-boyfriend to Hannah (played by series star and creator Lena Dunham). Elijah comes out to her as gay in the show’s third episode. Then, two years into the run of Mormon, Rannells took a vacation during TV pilot season and dashed to LA, where he threw himself into a series of meetings. One of them was with Ryan Murphy, the maestro behind Glee and American Horror Story. “I learned he was working on a show about gay parents [based on Murphy’s own life], and I asked him about it. I had this strange moment of confidence. I thought, ‘I don’t know much about this, but I want to be a part of it.’” A month later, he got the offer to play Murphy’s alter-ego in The New Normal. Rannells had two seasons under his belt playing bestie to the ladies of Girls; so he was understandably itchy to play a lead. He met with Dunham and series producer Judd Apatow. “They said of course I had to try this.” Despite the magic of the Murphy name, The New Normal struggled to find its audience. The challenge was evident: Shows like Modern Family and Will & Grace proved that America could embrace gay characters, but were network audiences ready for a show where gay people were central rather than showcased for spice or comic relief? Normal was cancelled at the end of its first season. When asked if the show was ahead of its time, Rannells is quick to respond: “That’s exactly what I think. Modern Family was very successful and Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Eric Stonestreet were hugely popular; so it seemed like a good time for a show like ours. But New Normal was principally about gay people trying to have a baby, and Justin Bartha and I were the focus. We had a great cast with Ellen Barkin, Bebe Wood and the rest, but — at its heart — it was the gay couple’s story. Maybe it was too soon for that.”

The show ended, but Rannells didn’t miss a beat. In no time, he says, “Lena offered me my job back on the third season of Girls and it’s been great to be back and see Elijah grow and evolve.” In fact, Elijah has since gone on to become one of the most multi-layered gay characters ever put on a television screen. He’s dealt with issues of sexual fluidity — sleeping with Allison Williams’ character Marnie, and when Hannah’s Dad came out as gay late in life, he turned to Elijah for comfort and counsel. Most recently, Elijah grappled with his desire for monogamy while dating a decidedly non-monagamous TV personality (played by House of Cards alum Corey Stoll). In a show that relies on irresponsible antics for its humor, Elijah often ends up the only adult in the room. “This season, I’m looking forward to showing even more different parts of Elijah. He’s no longer the messy friend, you know?” Rannells offers. “And there’s the storyline with Cory Stoll, where I get to continue to try to be more grown up and proud. Of course, Elijah still observes the girls just as the audience does, and I still get to call them out on their B.S. and being narcissistic.” Getting Bigger Dreams Rannells is now weighing his options for the future, since Girls will soon say goodbye and the lights of Falsettos won’t stay lit forever. “It’s like Oprah says, once you’ve achieved a dream, you’ve got to get bigger dreams,” he reasons. “That’s sort of been my approach. You get where you wanted to go, and move the line several steps.” It’s worth noting that Rannells’ star has risem parallel to the end of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell and the beginning of marriage equality. Unlike generations before him, he was not as seriously faced with the possibility that being openly gay and playing gay characters could threaten his career. But he’s wary that the incoming Trump administration may yet prove a danger to that kind of freedom. “What to do? “My plan is to stay vigilant,” he says.

Now when he’s asked if playing gay characters has limited him, Rannells sets the doubters straight: “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone ask straight guys if it’s limiting playing a straight guy. I know a lot of gay roles are played by straight people, and if they’re the best people for the job — well, fine. But playing gay? I have a little insight into that.” The final season of Girls premieres Sunday, February 12 on HBO. Visit hbo.com for more details.

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