#Who knew I would get so obsessed with this fucking programme?

[gayness-and-mayhem]

Think I might have just accidentally let on to my dad that I've been reading gay Endeavour fanfiction. Shit.

[domorebemore]

that sims family was so intricate to the point i could write a legit series of novels about them. i made them in like 2018? i think. and it started with just a normal married couple and they were boring but they gave birth to two kids and then the daughter became a painter and the son justin became a struggling standup comedian who married his high school sweetheart. his wife chelsea was a workaholic programmer and provided for the family while he went to open mics and tried to make a living. meanwhile they gave birth to a son and a daughter. eventually he had his big break and became a successful standup comedian. he was also constantly struggling with unmedicated bipolar disorder.

but then he OBVIOUSLY became an alcoholic and couldn't do shows without getting trashed beforehand and he'd come home and drink. but he was so successful (alongside his wife who was making a killing as a programmer at a thriving startup/doing her own projects on the side) they got to move into a big house. but the whole time justin was just getting trashed. and eventually his son travis (yes i know what their names are LMAO fuck off it was my bad) was in high school and started hanging out with the Wrong Crowd. so he started selling weed and eventually coke.

justin found out his son was selling drugs and got upset but then they made a deal where his son would provide him with free cocaine in exchange for his silence. chelsea was too busy being obsessed with her job to notice.

meanwhile their daughter norma inherited her dad's bipolar disorder but channeled it into her creative pursuits.

travis eventually grew up and moved out to be roommates with his childhood best friend rowan? i think was his name. the green hat guy. and anyway even though his dad was a famous standup comedian he chose to live in squalor in a really shitty rundown trashed apartment. rowan sold drugs alongside travis in this shitty apartment and they'd always have girls over and have threesomes with them. travis had no desire to follow in his dad's footsteps or take advantage of his family's wealth and just wanted to be a bartender with sleeves who got high all day.

norma also grew up and moved to the city but started acting and struggled for a bit but eventually her nepotism got her ahead and she became so super famous that she got to move to a giant mansion in the hills with her boyfriend who she met on set. her boyfriend was much less successful than she was. she eventually won the sims equivalent of an oscar (i forget what it was called lmao) and they had a child but never got married.

MEANWHILE. travis accidentally knocked up one of the girls he'd been casually seeing on and off since high school who was working as a barista/camgirl. she claimed to not know whose baby it was but everyone knew it was his. she said she was too poor to take care of the baby (avery) and moved in with travis and rowan. but then one day she said she couldn't do it anymore and RAN OFF leaving travis and his roommate to raise a TODDLER in what was essentially a drug den where they sold weed, coke and molly.

finally after months of struggling travis broke down and asked his dad for the money he'd been turning down for so many years which his ailing alcoholic father obviously gave to him with no questions asked and travis moved out to the desert in a big house with his toddler daughter to start a new life. he still worked as a bartender but at a fancier place and he finally accepted his father's help.

i think i covered all the basics there.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I have been trying to hold back with the Edinburgh Fringe booking. I've of course been obsessively reading through all the programming and making my spreadsheet with a long list and a short(er) list and a wish list of people who haven't yet announced. The latter is why I haven't actually been booking yet. I will be disproportionately furious with myself if I cannot create my perfect schedule, in which all the shows I wish to see fit together like a jigsaw, because I just started booking whatever I wanted when I didn't even know what all the shows would be yet, and then someone else announces and I haven't left room for them, or I can fit them in but not perfectly because I didn't build the schedule with them in mind to begin with, and then everything gets messed up. I need to wait until it's all on the table, then make the jigsaw while taking everything into account. Because that is how you're supposed to do an arts festival. Book up every moment of your time months beforehand and leave absolutely no room for spontaneity.

Obviously the drawback to this is that some shows might sell out well I'm waiting. The other side of that is that I'm going during the first week of the festival, which I understand is the least busy time, nothing is going to sell out that week in April. It's fine. Patience is by far the best policy here.

I did book David O'Doherty the moment I saw it announced, because that was before it was even in the official Fringe programme, before most shows were in there, I just saw it, I knew DO'D was right near the top of my list of people I most want to see, I knew it wouldn't matter what else came up because nothing's going to push him off my short list, I wanted the excitement of booking a ticket for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival that I am actually going to go to for real, so I did it. I got one on the books for the sake of it, but otherwise, I'm being patient. Fully patient. That's the plan.

However, I have now spent over seven days in a row checking just one of the pages to make sure none of its shows have sold out yet, because it's the one show, of the ones that have been announced so far but that I haven't booked, that I most want to see. And he's really famous, if anything were going to sell out, it would be this one. Even though of course it hasn't. I check every day just to make sure every date is still available, and of course it is, because it's the first half of April. But what if suddenly everyone buys tickets at once because he's a TV star? What if? How many hundreds of years would it take me to forgive myself if I'm in Edinburgh during this show and don't get to see it because I was waiting for a jigsaw?

So fuck it, I just booked it so I can stop checking every day.

I will be patient with all the rest of them, really. But I have Nish Kumar and DO'D booked now, because those are the two really big ones where I would not get over it for the rest of my life if I somehow missed the opportunity to see them. I was trying to think of where to find pictures of those two guys together, because I thought I'd put that at the end of this post and say "look it's the top of my Edinburgh must-see list", and while I'm sure there are lots of pictures with them both, two things immediately came to mind. One is this from Edinburgh a couple of years ago, in the saga of Nish knocking over Rosie Jones:

And the other is this picture from what I'm 98% sure, based on a number of context clues, is MCIF 2003:

The latter comes to mind because of Nish's Twitter comment on it:

That's what I've prioritized. Let all the other chips fall where they may in terms of my trip to Edinburgh this year, but I will make damn sure well in advance that I'm going to see the eighth wonder of the world and one of his dads. And then, when Nish's other dad gets his shit together and announces his run five minutes before the festival opens, I'll end up picking my least favourite of the shows I have booked in his timeslot and skipping that show to see Daniel Kitson.

[dukeofriven]

So today at a friend's place my friend got me to watch the first episode of Trigun Stampede. I have never seen any Trigun, knew literally nothing about it except that the name would pop-up on TV Tropes a lot back in the day. My friend was a fan of the original and wanted to give the remake a shot. As the episode went on my friend got more and more aggravated, frequently making confused and irritated noises like a cat locked in an unheated bathroom, so that I could only surmise he wasn't enjoying the television programme. I was finding it kind of awkward and often off-putting, tiresomely sexist, and I just generally disliked its visual style (but then that's not specific to Trigun Stampede as I feel like '3D CGI' anime has yet to hit its stride—from Arpeggio of Blue Steel to Beastars the character models still feel leaden and droopy, their balance all wrong, and the framerate choices that should make them look more like tradition animation just make things look jerky.) The episode wasn't terrible, but it felt generic and forgettable, another anime that felt like I'd seen it before. After it was over my friend turned to me, ashen faced, and said 'what the fuck did they do to Trigun?' Then he made me watch the first episode of the original. It felt like watching a completely different show. It contextualized ever single choice the remake had made—and every choice it made was wrong. Where the new one felt sexist, the old one felt progressive. Where the new one felt aimless, bouncing from space opera to quasi-western, the old one had a razor-sharp sense of theme and genre. Where the new one's Vash felt like that druggie who tries to hold Bruce Willis up at the start of Fifth Element, the old Vash was a pitch-perfect balance of a guy who could ooze shonen cool one moment and then act like a total dork the next, with neither element feeling incongruous to his character. I sat there slack-jawed and baffled and began to understand why my friend had been so appalled. Why would you take an empowered female leader and make her a childish rookie? Why would you replace a fascinatingly unusual female character with an old alcoholic male asshole who spends the entire episode belittling his young female partner with misogynistic taunts? Why would you so clearly take every one of Trigun's narrative secrets and spill them all in the opening scene, then bookend the episode with a cartoonish villain playing a scary organ and all-but twirling a moustache> The original Trigun oozes confidence and charm - it feels like the sequel to Cowboy Bebop that I never knew existed, from the action sequences to the character design to the cocky assurance with which it just drops you into its world and makes no attempts to set it up for you: you are here, enjoy. Trigun Stampede seems terrified you might not instantly be invested in its deep lore so its non-stop exposition dumps from start to finish, with no mystery left by episode's end, everyone's motivation and backstory seemingly explained and squared away.

Hell, I watched the OG Trigun with its truly awful English dub and still felt riveted to the screen. I have never seen Trigun before. I have zero skin in the game, no childhood nostalgia to defend, no identity-forming anime obsession to shore-up as the backbone my existence. I give no goddamn weeb shits about Trigun. But I watched two episode of TB today: episode 1 of Trigun Stampede and the episode 1 of Trigun, and the former ditches every single element that makes the latter good. Every. Single. One. I have rarely watched a remake that seemed to so utterly and totally miss the point. If Stampede's only goal was to make me go 'man, this remake makes the original look amazing I'm going to ditch this show and watch that instead' well then it exceed. Otherwise, who the hell is this for? Why does this exist? MERYL GETS HANDLED ROUGHLY ENOUGH BUT WHAT THE SHIT DID YOU DO TO MILLY?

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[noel-fielding-web-page]

'Making TV during Covid is like being a hostage'

Noel Fielding on the return of Never Mind The Buzzcocks

As Never Mind The Buzzcocks is rebooted for Sky, returning team captain Noel Fielding reflects on how it – and he – has changed over the years.

What did you think when you heard that they were bringing the show back and wanted you to return as a team captain?

Well, usually I’d be like, ‘Never go backwards. Never go back,’ but I did it for five years and I became really good friends with Phill Jupitus. I love Phill, and we just got on really, really well. So I was half thinking, ‘Should I do this without him?’ I knew he wasn’t doing it. He’s gone back to art school, he’s in Scotland now living his best life.

But the reason I said yes is because I’m such a big fan of Greg Davies and Daisy May Cooper. They’re two of my favourite comedians, they’re two people that really make me laugh. So, I just thought, ‘Well, I know this show and I can’t not do it if those two are doing it, because they’re so good.’

I did Taskmaster, and literally I laughed all the way through it. Greg was cracking me up all the time. I just thought, ‘This is going to be really good. It’s a deadly combination.’

Did you feel any nerves at all sitting back in the captain’s seat?

Not really, but I had to slightly reposition myself mentally, because I suppose when I did it originally, I was much younger. I still feel like I’m 32, even though I’m not. I’m looking forward to the John Cooper Clarke years, where you’re still dressing ridiculously, you’ve got your ski suit on, and your crazy boots, and people go, ‘Oh yeah, it’s him.’

John Cooper Clarke is my hero, he’s still rock and roll, he manages to pull it off. And I saw him on Antiques Road Trip, and I just thought, ‘Well, if you can make Antiques Road Trip cool, that is the coolest thing ever.’

You must miss the social element of the show then?

Yeah, I would love if there was a bit more of a social aspect to it, because I feel like bonding-wise, it’s great if you can all go out and get smashed occasionally, because it just helps.

But I just feel lucky that we can still do television, because of the pandemic, not everyone can do the job they were doing.

You’re up against Daisy, how competitive does it get between  you?

Well, I’ve realised I’m getting thrashed, which is killing me! I think Daisy has a really weird knowledge of Britney type pop music, that I don’t have.

That’s slightly my weak point, is that I’m not big on that kind of pop stuff. I know it, but I just don’t know as much of it.

Daisy seems to know every lyric to every pop act. She knows Bieber lyrics, and stuff like that, which I’m hopeless at. I know Bieber exists, but I know it’s not for me! I think Daisy, so far, has been quite lucky with the guests. She’s had Lauren Laverne, who’s just like an encyclopaedia of music.

But I’ve never been that bothered about winning. I’m always trying to be funny, instead of giving the right answer, or I just have a laugh with my team.

Jamali Maddix floats between both teams, what’s it like having him on the show?

Jamali’s amazing, actually. I’d seen his stand-up and I thought he was really good, but he’s been brilliant on this. He’s quite a good counterpoint to Greg, because he’s coming from such a different angle, of youth, because Greg is always playing the old man card! Jamali is the person that’s going, ‘Right Greg, this is what’s cool. This is what’s happening’, but Greg’s like, ‘I’ve got no fucking clue,’ which is hilarious.

Some people might say that the music scene is not as wild now as it was back in the day. What do you think to that?

I think it’s different. I think that there have been a few guests on who are definitely rock and roll, but in a different way to what was classified as rock and roll, I suppose,. What was quite funny is, there’s a rapper called Aitch, and I don’t know how young he is. He’s very young, 21, 22 maybe. And he was saying that his guilty pleasure was Razorlight, and I was laughing, ‘I used to knock around with Razorlight, wow, my generation are being described as a sort of guilty pleasure!’ It was cracking me up.

The kids are always doing something different, and as you get older, you think, ‘Oh, it’s not as good as my generation,’ but, it probably is, it’s just different. I’m sure I used to say that to my mum and dad. They were very rock and roll, so it was very hard to out-rock and roll my parents. They used to go to see David Bowie, and Led Zeppelin. When I was growing up, the only way I could really rebel was by listening to Adam Ant, and stuff like Duran Duran, which they thought was just pop stuff, because they were the real deal rock and roll.

What’s the vibe of the show this time around?

Well, I feel like because Greg’s in control, it’s a little bit out of control to begin with, and I feel like Daisy’s energy is quite mad as well. And then I’m quite weird! The young pop stars that are coming on, and rappers are going, ‘I was a bit nervous, I thought I was going to get torn to pieces, but actually I really enjoyed that.’

The great thing about Buzzcocks is it’s a place where you can see your favourite bands, or singers, or rappers, or whatever, and you can get to know what they’re like. There are not many programmes where that happens any more.

I feel like we’re giving them space to shine a bit as well. I feel like Greg’s really warm and giggly, but he’s also so funny. Daisy’s a sort of wild card, and I’m quite surreal. And Jamali’s got a whole different thing going on, so I feel like we’re coming at it from loads of different angles.

I feel like the vibe is quite mad tea party. It’s nice, it’s a little bit out of control. I feel like if there were fewer restrictions because of the pandemic, we’d probably be all rolling about together,   where Daisy would be jumping on you, and Greg would be rolling about. I feel like it would be quite a tactile show. One of my big memories of doing Buzzcocks before was being chased around the set by Lorraine Kelly.

I feel like another series would just descend into absolute carnage, definitely. It’s just TV gold, right there.

What have the guests been like?

There’s been some great guests. Obviously, we had Bez and Shaun Ryder, which was fantastic, they’re such a brilliant double-act and such funny characters. There’s been a lot of stuff that we’ve been laughing at, that I’m not sure will make the show. Daisy said to me she really hopes there’s just an extra episode of bloopers and outtakes.

One of the games looks at pre-show rituals, do you have one?

It’s quite difficult now because you’re not allowed to come out of your dressing room until the last minute, so it is like a hostage situation. Then, you do the show, you get bundled into the taxi, and you’re gone. It’s a bit like a dream, it’s like you’ve been kidnapped, and then put in front of a TV audience, done some stuff, shown off for a bit, and then you’re back in the car. You go, ‘Did that happen?’

Apparently, Daisy revealed her obsession with ghosts during filming?

Daisy’s the weirdest person I’ve ever met… She’s so hilarious. I think her cleaner, who came to the show, is a medium as well. You couldn’t really write that, could you?  And, oh my God, she literally loves dancing. She’s always out of her chair, busting moves. I think she’d probably win Strictly if she was ever invited on it. She should definitely do it!

• Never Mind The Buzzcocks returns to Sky Max at 9pm next Tuesday, September 21.

Published: 14 Sep 2021

[x]

[fanficshiddles]

Trust, Chapter 13

After learning how the team didn’t bother to look for Darcy much when Loki took her, she had taken on an even more of a fuck it attitude.

She was in the lab, watching what was going on. Mainly because Loki was there and he was allowed to help with some high-tech project that Tony and Bruce were working on, while Jane worked in her corner on the piece of Bifrost that Thor had gifted her. She was obsessed with it.

Darcy disappeared momentarily and returned with coffee and Jaffa cakes. She gave Loki his mug and some of the cakes, then gave Bruce the same before sitting down to eat her own.

Tony and Jane both looked at her, unamused.

‘Where’s ours?’ Tony asked, looking hurt.

‘You never thank me. So.’ She shrugged, making a show of eating her Jaffa cake. ‘Besides, my job is Loki’s babysitter right now, not your lackey.’

Loki smirked as he sipped his coffee. Bruce looked uncomfortable but tried to carry on with the project.

‘Darcy, I am sorry. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.’

‘Sometimes?’ Loki quipped, making Darcy snigger as Tony glared at the God.

‘I’m apologising, what else do you want?’ He shrugged, looking between Darcy and Loki.

‘You could get down on your knees and beg.’ Loki suggested, glancing to Darcy over his mug.

Darcy put her hands on her hips and smirked. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

‘I never have bad ideas.’ Loki said.

Tony rolled his eyes. But he knew it would be worth it so he wouldn’t have to get his own drinks. He went over on front of Darcy, knelt down and put his arms out to the side. Being over dramatic, but it worked.

‘I am sorry, oh great and powerful Darcy. Can you forgive me so we can move on? I promise to be more polite in the future, I sometimes forget my manners.’ He said as he clasped his hands together and looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

‘Hmmm… do you promise to be nicer to Loki, too?’ She asked, trying her luck.

Loki looked a little surprised at that.

Tony sighed. ‘I can’t promise I will… But I can promise I won’t try and blast his head off unless he turns rogue. Deal?’ He put his hand out towards Darcy.

Darcy looked at Loki, who shrugged and gave a nod.

‘Alright. Deal.’ She shook his hand.

Bruce just laughed while shaking his head at the scene. Jane rolled her eyes and tried to ignore them.

Darcy ended up getting Tony coffee and cakes too. ‘Cheers Darcy.’ He ruffled her hair up, earning a glare from her as she whacked his arm.

But it was something. At least he acknowledged her this time. She just hoped it would actually last.

And it did. The following few times she was in the lab and fetched everyone, aside from stubborn Jane, something to eat and drink they all thanked her. And every time she would look at Loki with a huge grin and she would get a just as huge grin back.

Loki continued on some missions. Fury was impressed with him, which was good. Even if he did sometimes do things in an unconventional way, with Loki’s usual dramatic flare and mischief, he still got the job done. Better than the others, at times.

His first press conference had been rocky. But the public seemed divided on him, some saying he shouldn’t be here, that he should be put in prison for what he did. Others were praising him as a hero. Darcy showed him online, tumblr especially. Where he had a small fanbase starting to grow. He was pretty chuffed with that, though he didn’t show it. But Darcy could tell, the small twinkle in his eyes was pretty evident to her.

-

It was late morning one day and Darcy was still in bed, sleeping off a late night and a slight hangover. But she was rudely awakened when Loki appeared right at her bedside.

‘LOKI!’ Darcy screeched, shooting upwards.

‘What?’ Loki asked innocently.

‘What have I told you about popping up in here unannounced?’ She scowled at him.

‘Not to do it… But what’s the point of me walking here and knocking when I can just teleport?’ Loki shrugged and walked around the other side of the bed and hopped on next to her, sitting up against the headboard. He grabbed her remote and turned on the TV like he owned the place. He conjured up a bag of crisps and started eating.

‘What if I was masturbating? Hmm?’ Darcy folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Loki smirked as he flicked through the channels, his eyes locked on the TV. ‘Well, that would be a delightful sight I am sure.’

‘No. It wouldn’t. That would be… weird. You wouldn’t want to see that!’

‘I may be a God, but I am still a hot-blooded male. Of course seeing that would be great.’

‘Oh Jesus give me strength.’ Darcy flopped back down and put her pillow over her head to try and block out the light of the TV. Knowing he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Whilst she had managed to, kind of, get a proper sleeping pattern back, Loki didn’t have one at all.

Sometimes he would just randomly fall asleep in the middle of the day, having naps whenever he wanted. Darcy had tried to draw on his face once, thinking he was totally out of it, but he woke up and caught her in the middle of it.

Darcy had just managed to get back to sleep a little later when Loki reached over and held her nose closed, it took her a moment but she spluttered and woke up, whacking his hand away.

‘What the hell?!’ She screeched and glared at him.

‘You were snoring over my programme.’ He said simply, motioning to the TV. She didn’t dare ask why he was watching love island.

‘God sake.’ Darcy huffed and turned away from him, scooting as far to the other side of the bed as possible, out of his reach.

But Loki was in an annoying mood.

‘Darcy.’

She ignored him.

‘Darcy!’ He poked her back.

‘For the love of god, what?!’ She sat up and folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

‘Fine, if you’re going to be like that I won’t ask.’ He said sadly, looking back at the TV, looking genuinely hurt.

Darcy’s face softened. ‘Sorry, Loki. You know I’m not a morning person… what is it? Please, tell me?’ She begged.

Loki turned to face her, looking deadly serious. Darcy thought they were about to have another of their ‘moments’ that they usually had on the roof.

‘What do I have to do to get on this love island, programme?’

He was swiftly hit in the face with Darcy’s pillow.

[imagine-loki]

Trust, Chapter 13

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 13 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has.  RATING: M

After learning how the team didn’t bother to look for Darcy much when Loki took her, she had taken on an even more of a fuck it attitude.

She was in the lab, watching what was going on. Mainly because Loki was there and he was allowed to help with some high-tech project that Tony and Bruce were working on, while Jane worked in her corner on the piece of Bifrost that Thor had gifted her. She was obsessed with it.

Darcy disappeared momentarily and returned with coffee and Jaffa cakes. She gave Loki his mug and some of the cakes, then gave Bruce the same before sitting down to eat her own.

Tony and Jane both looked at her, unamused.

‘Where’s ours?’ Tony asked, looking hurt.

‘You never thank me. So.’ She shrugged, making a show of eating her Jaffa cake. ‘Besides, my job is Loki’s babysitter right now, not your lackey.’

Loki smirked as he sipped his coffee. Bruce looked uncomfortable but tried to carry on with the project.

‘Darcy, I am sorry. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.’

‘Sometimes?’ Loki quipped, making Darcy snigger as Tony glared at the God.

‘I’m apologising, what else do you want?’ He shrugged, looking between Darcy and Loki.

‘You could get down on your knees and beg.’ Loki suggested, glancing to Darcy over his mug.

Darcy put her hands on her hips and smirked. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

‘I never have bad ideas.’ Loki said.

Tony rolled his eyes. But he knew it would be worth it so he wouldn’t have to get his own drinks. He went over on front of Darcy, knelt down and put his arms out to the side. Being over dramatic, but it worked.

‘I am sorry, oh great and powerful Darcy. Can you forgive me so we can move on? I promise to be more polite in the future, I sometimes forget my manners.’ He said as he clasped his hands together and looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

‘Hmmm… do you promise to be nicer to Loki, too?’ She asked, trying her luck.

Loki looked a little surprised at that.

Tony sighed. ‘I can’t promise I will… But I can promise I won’t try and blast his head off unless he turns rogue. Deal?’ He put his hand out towards Darcy.

Darcy looked at Loki, who shrugged and gave a nod.

‘Alright. Deal.’ She shook his hand.

Bruce just laughed while shaking his head at the scene. Jane rolled her eyes and tried to ignore them.

Darcy ended up getting Tony coffee and cakes too. ‘Cheers Darcy.’ He ruffled her hair up, earning a glare from her as she whacked his arm.

But it was something. At least he acknowledged her this time. She just hoped it would actually last.

And it did. The following few times she was in the lab and fetched everyone, aside from stubborn Jane, something to eat and drink they all thanked her. And every time she would look at Loki with a huge grin and she would get a just as huge grin back.

Loki continued on some missions. Fury was impressed with him, which was good. Even if he did sometimes do things in an unconventional way, with Loki’s usual dramatic flare and mischief, he still got the job done. Better than the others, at times.

His first press conference had been rocky. But the public seemed divided on him, some saying he shouldn’t be here, that he should be put in prison for what he did. Others were praising him as a hero. Darcy showed him online, tumblr especially. Where he had a small fanbase starting to grow. He was pretty chuffed with that, though he didn’t show it. But Darcy could tell, the small twinkle in his eyes was pretty evident to her.

-

It was late morning one day and Darcy was still in bed, sleeping off a late night and a slight hangover. But she was rudely awakened when Loki appeared right at her bedside.

‘LOKI!’ Darcy screeched, shooting upwards.

‘What?’ Loki asked innocently.

‘What have I told you about popping up in here unannounced?’ She scowled at him.

‘Not to do it… But what’s the point of me walking here and knocking when I can just teleport?’ Loki shrugged and walked around the other side of the bed and hopped on next to her, sitting up against the headboard. He grabbed her remote and turned on the TV like he owned the place. He conjured up a bag of crisps and started eating.

‘What if I was masturbating? Hmm?’ Darcy folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Loki smirked as he flicked through the channels, his eyes locked on the TV. ‘Well, that would be a delightful sight I am sure.’

‘No. It wouldn’t. That would be… weird. You wouldn’t want to see that!’

‘I may be a God, but I am still a hot-blooded male. Of course seeing that would be great.’

‘Oh Jesus give me strength.’ Darcy flopped back down and put her pillow over her head to try and block out the light of the TV. Knowing he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Whilst she had managed to, kind of, get a proper sleeping pattern back, Loki didn’t have one at all.

Sometimes he would just randomly fall asleep in the middle of the day, having naps whenever he wanted. Darcy had tried to draw on his face once, thinking he was totally out of it, but he woke up and caught her in the middle of it.

Darcy had just managed to get back to sleep a little later when Loki reached over and held her nose closed, it took her a moment but she spluttered and woke up, whacking his hand away.

‘What the hell?!’ She screeched and glared at him.

‘You were snoring over my programme.’ He said simply, motioning to the TV. She didn’t dare ask why he was watching love island.

‘God sake.’ Darcy huffed and turned away from him, scooting as far to the other side of the bed as possible, out of his reach.

But Loki was in an annoying mood.

‘Darcy.’

She ignored him.

‘Darcy!’ He poked her back.

‘For the love of god, what?!’ She sat up and folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

‘Fine, if you’re going to be like that I won’t ask.’ He said sadly, looking back at the TV, looking genuinely hurt.

Darcy’s face softened. ‘Sorry, Loki. You know I’m not a morning person… what is it? Please, tell me?’ She begged.

Loki turned to face her, looking deadly serious. Darcy thought they were about to have another of their ‘moments’ that they usually had on the roof.

‘What do I have to do to get on this love island, programme?’

He was swiftly hit in the face with Darcy’s pillow.

[somefantasticplace]

THEY DIDN'T LET IT LIE

After four years of writing in secret, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer are about to bring their surreal masterpiece Catterick to television screen. Glimpse here an interview that treads the outer regions of sanity…

A long time ago Vic Reeves (real name Jim Moir) and Bob Mortimer were television revolutionaries, their work genuinely baffled as it made you laugh. But in recent years they have lurched perilously close to becoming light entertainment stalwarts. Their new six-part series for the BBC, Catterick, named after the North Yorkshire garrison town, might be the TV show that puts Vic & Bob back in a deeply disturbing and equally funny place. Or it could be a creative disaster. Either way, as this exclusive on-set interview shows, it will certainly be strange.

Catterick, what is it then?

Vic: It’s just a great long story about people who have lost things and then try to find them. We’ve been working on it for four years as a movie but then the BBC offered us a sketch show so we’ve put it into that space.

Bob: It’s different, a real treat. But it’s bonkers. It’s not Phoenix Nights or Early Doors but in a funny way we hope it will be as easy to watch as they are. There are mysterious crows influencing events.

Vic: It’s got very sinister undertones.

Bob: If we do get away with it, it will be a much bigger thing than we’ve done before. But they’ll only trust us to a certain extent.

The BBC don’t trust you?

Bob: I don’t think the BBC is sure about anyone for much longer than about a year, or two years. They might not even be sure about Ricky Gervais in three years time. I do get that feeling that they don’t fucking know either way of it’s good or bad.

Vic: The BBC just usually let us get on with it. Because it’s a drama they got us involved, or tried to get us involved because at the end of the day we are the ones who say yea or nay.

Bob: Just little things. Like they didn’t want it to be called Catterick. Should it be called Catterick? Should it be this long? Should it have more plots? The sort of things that come out of corporations.

Were you disappointed by Randall & Hopkirk not getting a third series?

Bob: I was surprised we got the second series really. To be honest, I didn’t think the stories were good enough. Charlie Higson wrote it… well, it was a fuck of a lot to take on, six one-hours on the BBC. We knew it when we were doing it. You know when you’re doing something and saying, “This isn’t the sort of thing that we do but we’ll try it.”

Do you suffer from people thinking you are dark geniuses rather than just comics?

Vic: If people do feel that, they don’t ring us up, they’ve thought about it in darkened corners.

Do you think you are dark geniuses?

Vic: Well, Emile Zola didn’t have people ringing him up and saying, “Are you a dark genius?” you do what you do. And we never hear of anything from fans.

Are they kept away from you?

Bob: No

Vic: It’s not that we’re not interested but we never hear of them.

Bob: I mean we don’t set up web lines and we don’t get aggressive not see fans, it’s just not…

Not what you do?

Vic: (looks over at Bob who is wearing a tracksuit top beneath a formal jacket): That’s quite unique is that look. That approach.

Bob: I’ve got a Gentle Giant t-shirt on (with a patriotic US design featuring a stars ‘n’ stripes-coloured horse).

Vic: A sports top.

Bob: And quite a formal shirt these days.

Vic: But a sports top and a suit.

Bob: What’s your verdict?

Vic: Well, it’s the new thing. The younger set will be wearing that next week. Is Jack in the younger set?

Not really, no. Is your show similar to what Paul Whitehouse did with Happiness?

Vic: No, it’s nothing like it at all.

I don’t mean the end product, but whether it’s written with similarly downbeat inclinations.

Vic: I think if you wanted to really analyse it the essence of comedy is about sadness. And there’s a lot of sadness. It’s very similar to Voltaire’s Candide, in that a bloke meets a woman who he falls madly in love with, she gets kidnapped and he spends the rest of his life looking for her and when he finds her, he finds out he doesn’t fancy her anymore. But that’s his entire life gone, for nothing. Also in Candide, people get killed and then come back to life.

And in Catterick?

Bob: Well a few die.

Vic: But if someone gets killed they are not necessarily dead. Although they’re not far off. I think it’s the best thing we’ve ever done, one of the best things ever on television but whether people like it or not is a different thing. I think people are now numbed; they’re dumbed down to the state where they’re going “We just want to watch someone decorating someone’s house.”

If everyone’s stupid, what hope is there for clever humour? Or clever anything?

Vic: I think it’s got to the state of just before punk rock emerged. Someone’s going to have to say, “Look, this is getting too much. It’s too shit, it’s too boring.” Fortunately we grew up at the right time. People of our age, from our era, are the only creative people around. There’s fuck all going on.  I get so agitated watching television – there’s nothing on.

Bob: If we get away with Catterick it will make people more ambitious, take more chances. This isn’t Early Doors or the Alan Partridge thing, it has no element of – and this is something I’m not particularly keen on – “Oh he’s just like the bloke in our office” or “I know people like that”. All that stuff, there’s none of that, there’s no-one you recognise.

Vic: The characters in Catterick, they don’t look and act like normal people but they are normal. You can take somebody who’s outlandish in their look or the way that the speak and put them in a real life proper situation. It’s confusing and then it becomes funny.

Do you think that’s a Northern thing?

Vic: What do you mean?

A warmth towards outlandishness.

Vic: There’s some of that in our area.

Bob: You used to follow oddballs, didn’t you? Around the streets.

Vic: Yeah, but I think there’s something particular about where we grew up, the northeast of Yorkshire. It seems to breed a particular viewpoint, which is, I think, funny. And we’ve got Mark Benton who is a superb character and he’s from Middlesbrough, and it’s so easy to work with him because he’s got that particular… he knows what the humour is. But it’s from darkness and from sensibilities and straightforward people. And you just take a twist off to the right or left. That’s where humour is.

What do you thing to Ant and Dec, who’ve, arguably, done a childish version of your act?

Vic: Well, all the best to them. They do stuff that’s so popular and I’m sure they enjoy magnificent flats.

Bob: When they started doing Saturday morning telly, they did it well. Just because we’re from the same neck of the woods and there’s two of them…

Vic: I hope they don’t go too far and people start to despising them. Like what’s his name… not Michael Jackson… the ginger-haired fella…

Bob: Terry Evans?

Vic: Chris Evans.

Did you work with Evans?

Vic: We must have met him… he had a snotty nose.

Bob: We thought he was a sneezer.

Vic: So am I. It’s all the cocaine I abuse.

Bob: You do?

Vic: I have cocaine constantly. I love it.

Bob: (returning to the subject of Ant and Dec): Yeah, their early stuff has probably got a half-life but at the moment they are the top presenters. If there’s a big event they’ll probably be the number one choice for it at the moment.

Was your first television break on Jonathan Ross’s ‘The Last Resort’?

Vic: I wouldn’t say it was a break, as we weren’t looking for a break at the time. I think Jonathan got in a lucky position hosting a programme – he’d get all his mates on.

Bob: The other thing you realise is how indebted you are once you’ve got a show. We used to do a live show down in Deptford, but people heard about it and they wanted to put us on. By the end of it we had this fucking theatre in Deptford. As soon as we did a run of five weeks in it, it was sold out in hours.

Vic: There were people coming from all over to see it and then we had TV bosses sniffing around but they didn’t know what to do with us.

Bob: What would we have done, would we have just carried on doing that?

Vic: Well I remember sitting in a cab and you said, “Shall we be famous then? Do you fancy it, do you want to be famous for a bit?” And we really didn’t think – and it didn’t matter…

Bob: I think I took 10 weeks off work. We were doing a shitty little tour.

Vic: We didn’t think it would carry on from there. I think it was a case of… (we stop as a waitress arrives).

Bob: Cup of tea, please. (Bob points at my chip bowl, which he has gradually filled with fag ends.) Sorry about that, pet.

Vic: Can I have a large gin and tonic. I need a hair-of-the-dog and I don’t usually do that, but…

It works.

Vic: I bet it does – because you were here late for the interview I bet you got up out of bed late, didn’t you? What were you doing last night? I was singing with me father-in-law. Were you living it up?

Drinking, talking rubbish.

Bob: That’s your job though, isn’t it?

Vic: That’s alright!

Bob: I watched Harry Hill’s TV Burp. You know, it was one of those nights.

Vic: Quiet night, then.

Bob: Quiet night, yeah.

How close do you live to each other?

Bob: About 16 minutes.

Vic: No, longer, I reckon 40 minutes.

Bob: I’d say 28, if it’s important to you then we have to get it right.

Vic: More 29. Depends on the wind.

Bob: Mmm.

Isn’t that like giving up on life, moving to Kent?

Bob: Why do you say that? Where do you live?

Me? Camberwell.

Vic: Do you like it there?

I’ve not been there for that long, I was in Greenwich before.

Vic: You’re obsessive, that’s where we lived. The next thing you’ll be in Kent – you’re living the same places that we lived. You would have been here (central London) quicker if you lived in Kent, and you have the luxury of having a nice quiet life with beautiful countryside and fresh air. What happens with you now? You wake up and open your windows and you’ve got…

A gherkin.

Vic: Or a Nigerian taxi going, Waaaah! Waaaah!

Bob: You’re got a Gurkha?

A gherkin. It’s a building. And apart from me everyone else in the block is Nigerian.

Bob: Ah, yes. Do you drink in The Grove?

No, that’s turned into a big-box-little-box place. I drink at the Hermit’s cave.

Bob: That was the police pub. It was a no-go.

Vic: Do you go in at lunchtime? What do you have, pie or fish?

Just a drink.

Vic: Really, and then do you go home and have your tea? And then have some pints. What do you have for your tea?

My flatmate’s doing a cooking course so…

Vic: So she comes back with some good recipes. I left a recipe for Nancy when I was coming up here. I said “Get those chickens’ breasts out, put them in lemon juice and soy sauce then a bit pf paprika and let them marinate for some time and we’ll have those with a nice bit of cabbage and some mushrooms.”

Bob: I loved Camberwell. But I’d been in Peckham and Camberwell for 15 years and one weekend my girlfriend got attacked, my motorcycle got nicked and the police, with their helicopters, cornered a criminal in me back garden. And then the spell of it were gone. I couldn’t live there. I’d lived there happily but as soon as something happened I walked out.

Vic: I remember when we first did Big Night Out. I’d secured myself a really nice flat in Blackheath. One bedroom, but nice. It was posh. And he was living on the worst estate in Peckham and it used to make me think that other people were thinking that I was getting all the money and he wasn’t getting anything and he wouldn’t fucking get out of this shit hole. Even when we had quite a good deal of money he wouldn’t get out of that shithole in Peckham and it used to make me highly embarrassed.

Bob: I was in a homeless hostel, it’s true, and then I got this council flat just off the North Peckham council estate.

Vic: It was going to be on Through The Keyhole.

Bob: I wish I’d done it, like.

Vic: It was fucking frightening, like. When we were on tour I’d get picked up, it wasn’t a luxury flat but it had a nice front piece and it looking like a nice big hour and then I’d go and pick that fucker up and it was a disgusting hole.

Bob: It was fucking noisy at night.

Vic: And he made it worse because he was a lazy fucker. He couldn’t be bothered getting out of his bed and walking round to go to the toilet so he kicked a hole in the wall to the toilet. I said “What are you doing about getting this rubbish out of the house?” and he said, “Oh, I’ll put it out the window.” There was a triangle of shit, milk bottles and crap out the back window. Piss everywhere, piss in milk bottles…

Bob: They were the days thought, you can’t do that in Kent. And you know what, it’s embarrassing. I’m not being nasty to Nigerians in any way, I’m just making the clear point that they are noisy. Eight or nine of them in a very tiny space and they never shut up. Either that or it’s the tinkle of chicken bones falling on the pavement all fucking night.

Could that be construed as racist?

Vic: I don’t think it’s racist. When you go into an Indian shop they are always on the phone. Always. And it’s not racist but you get accused of being racist if you say that all Nigerians are…

Bob: They are fucking noisy.

Why isn’t that racist?

Bob: Because it has been my experience.

Vic: With our type of humour – a lot of people from the North East have our sense of humour – it’s a positive thing. We can say it because it’s the way we sound.

Well you’d have to ask a Nigerian whether he minds it in a North Yorkshire accent or not.

Bob: You noisy bastard.

Vic: One of the characters in Catterick is white, Jewish, ginger haired who’s got an Asian accent.

Bob: See that could be a stumbling block… it’s quite idiotic.

Vic: When we did The Club on Bang Bang, Bob played a character who had a Chinese accent and that was covered by the fact that…

Bob: But we seemed to get away with that but Asia’s different, isn’t it? As for what people are going to say? Fuck, I don’t know. Vic: If you were raised in Hong Kong and you were white Anglo-Saxon and you came back you’re going to talk with a Chinese accent. Which might be intriguing.

Bob: See the other thing is that I reckon probably in fucking South Yorkshire it’s incredibly cool to be Asian.

Like it used to be cool amongst some whites to pretend to be black?

Vic: That’s still cool now. White children in Southeast London have got a basically West Indian accent, haven’t they? It’s cool but will it ever be cool to come from the Isle of White.

Bob: I don’t think the BBC have cottoned on to that yet. That Matt Lucas is going to be Asian.

You said your humour is a product of where you come from, but Roy “Chubby” Brown is from the same area, isn’t he?

Vic: Do you know, when I was talking to my friend Eugene at the weekend, Nancy said “He says ‘cunt’".  And Nancy says, “You say ‘cunt’ a lot.” She says she doesn’t like it. Being from the South she finds if, well not offensive, but she says she “notices” it, it’s a serious word. But Eugene said it’s a particular thing to our particular area. People will say cunt in the Northeast without thinking about it and I think it’s because of the accent. It’s not forced out. If it were in the South it would be “CAANT!” so it sounds like it’s being shot out. In the Northeast it’s nice, and it’s rounded. I mean I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that word. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with any language. It’s just a natural thing.

Isn’t it violent towards women?

Vic: No, not really. The word cunt is the same as “Kent” and “quaint” if you take it right back to language. Where it first came from (all this is palpably untrue); from the English language when we had fewer words in our vocabulary Kent, quaint and cunt were all the same thing. So what do you do? Do you start saying you can’t say these words?

Bob: That’s terrible.

Northerners say “bastard” better.

Bob: I think they are the best words. Whatever you think to “Chubby”, he’s a fucking great swearer.

Vic: With Roy “Cubby” Brown those words can come out and they’re got the same amount of force but they’re used in a certain way so you can accept them a little bit easier. This Jethro character – I’ve never heard him but he’s quite oo-arhh, isn’t he? And I can imagine he says (speaking in an almost Long John Silver pirate accent to denote the West Country), “You farking Carnt.” It’s a lot smoother, but if it’s cockney it sounds like a battering ram of a machine gun.

Bob: There’s not that much kudos up North in being sharp, it’s not the thing to be the aggressive comic.

(Looking at photographs that Vic has brought) Is this the stuff you’ve been taking?

Vic: Yeah. I liked the way you said that. Are you the boss of Jack?

I am actually, yes.

Vic: Are you enjoying it?

Bob: Have you got a good office?

Yes. I’ve got a chair on a castor and a floor with no carpet so when I put up the phone I move…

Bob: Are you going to stick to the castors, though?

Well, we’re moving office… today, in fact.

Vic: To a place with carpets?

Yes, afraid so.

Vic: You might find that more tricky.

Bob: You’ll miss the movement you know. Have you booked your office and said, “That’s my fucking office.”

The new place is open plan…

Vic: Oh eh!

Bob: Oh fucking cordon it off man and put “The Boss” up.

Vic: (Handing me some photographs) I want them all back. I want to do a portrait book so you have to promise me that you’ll give them all back.

Bob: Well, what will you do if he doesn’t?

Vic: I know where he lives.

What, you’ll send the boys round?

Vic: Yes, to go in your pub. I know coppers.

They shut the police station.

Vic: It doesn’t matter, not coppers from Peckham.

Hull coppers are direct and to the point.

Bob: Hull? They’d be great coppers.

Vic: Leicester’s the worst city, though.

Bob: I tell you what I think is worse, when you go down the Thames to those towns…

Vic: Marlow!

Bob: Marlow’s the worst.

Vic: Complete fights… and gang warfare. We should have a street fight.

Bob: It’s been a while hasn’t it?

Vic: Yeah. Do you want to join in or are you not a street fighter?

No. I’ll leave that.

Bob: You arrange a street fight for soft lads where no-one really gets hurt. It looks fucking amazing.

Vic: Bob used to be a big street fighter.

Bob: There's a lock-in pub (Bob here gives extended directions to a particular pub in South London). I used to live next door to it, Fucking hell. Every day of the year.

Vic: Where was that other place you used to do a lock-in?

Bob: Oh the Mexican place. That was a long one, an all-nighter.

Vic: I never did all that, you used to do three days of drinking…. You were a real drinker.

Bob: I used to be.

Have you stopped.

Bob: To be honest, more or less. We had some dos recently because we’d finished filming and I don’t seem to be able to get past five fucking pints.

Do you fall over or just go to sleep.

Bob: I’m just fucked.

Vic: Twice a week I’ll have a really good piss up.

Do you turn into a violent drunk or a lachrymose “I love you” drunk?

Vic: You know what I like? I really fucking love getting nicely pissed in me house and do fuck all. I’ll mess about. I’ll do a drawing or fiddle about with a candle, or poke the fire. Poking the fire when you’re pissed… I fucking love it. I’ll do that twice a week, get heavily pissed poking a fire. The other times I’ll drink camomile tea. Me and my lass drink camomile tea and eat sweets. I tell you what, and I don’t know how the fuck she does it, she’ll get a big box of chicken legs and stuff and she goes through all the chicken legs and she doesn’t put on an ounce. She’ll have eight chicken legs in a night and… nothing. And we have a big jug of squash, chicken legs, sweets and cheese comes out every night – like a bastard! Cheese is going to kill me.

Which is your favourite cheese?

Vic: I love all Bries and the Camemberts. I love that and pickles. Pickled eggs. Every night the tray will come out with all the shit on it and she’ll eat and eat. And she’ll not put a thing on.

Why do you think the tabloids always chase Vic’s personal life, not Bob’s?

Bob: I think it’s because he’s “Vic Reeves”. That’s the story there, that’s the way they see it.

Vic: Bob and me are both equally dull as each other. We don’t do fuck all but they seem to want to think that I have an exciting life because I married an underwear model. They seem to think that we have rampant sex all the time. She makes the dinner and puts her pyjamas on.

Bob: And you poke the fire.

Vic: I poke the fire. And then I occasionally poke her. Nothing happens, we do fuck all. But the tabloids want us to have an exciting life. They expect more of me and I don’t know why.

As a double act you’re quite unique, there’s not a straight man and a funny man – it seems an equal opportunities arrangement…

Bob: In the old days there was a straight man and a funny man but if you look at Ant and Dec they're equal as well.

Vic: Maybe it’s just a copy of us. Maybe we were the first…

Bob: It seems a bit of a waste, up a blind alley ultimately if one’s straight and one's funny. I was quite straight in Shooting Stars.

Vic: But you were never the straight one. You can have the straight one or you can have two straight men. You can have someone who is the dozy one but then if you switch the tables… in Catterick I’m clearly, if you look at it straightforwardly, the dozy one and my brother Carl is the one who has got it together. But then if you look more deeply maybe I’m cleverer… and he’s a liar. But it’s got that underlying thing all the way through that you don’t really know.

How scripted is your stuff?

Vic: Quite heavily. If we’re going to do a routine then we’ll know about it.

Bob: The nice thing about Shooting Stars is there are surprises. It’s not like Buzzcocks where they give them the questions beforehand. They are quite brave some people, they don’t get any chance to think of something funny.

Vic: When we are writing we have an office and we go in at 9:30 and leave at 3:30. Deathly silence, we never speak.

Bob: You’ve just got to sit down and do it. It’s no good going to Denmark and thinking you’ll be inspired. It’s, “here’s an office and a table”. Sometimes you do three pages and sometimes you do three lines but we try and stick to it.

Has anybody ever turned you down to appear on Shooting Stars?

Vic: I tell you who we never get – boxers, because they all want five grand and they think they’re fucking it.

Bob: We send off massive lists.

Vic: We nearly had Art Garfunkel once.

Bob: He’s got an airport problem.

Vic: I don’t think we are au fait with the younger set so you get someone like Destiny’s Child on to the show, or someone else and you think, “Who the fuck’s that?”

Bob: There's a lot of that.

Vic: My daughter's like, “Wooooooooh, yeah, you’ve got Mis-Teeq on!” and I say “Mystique – is that a juggling act?”

Bob: We don’t know their names.

Vic: And Mis-Teeq is a big deal, isn’t she? I thought she might have been a trapeze act but no, she’s a singer.

How do you cope with someone as patently Southern and middle class as Will Self being in love with you?

Vic: He finds us fascinating.

But slightly patronising?

Bob: He really cares for what he’s doing.

Vic: He’s bombastic and we’re vicarious.

Do you worry about Johnny Vegas?

Vic: Yeah. We have to edit out a couple of hours. We once did a take of Shooting Stars in 36 minutes, but when we get Johnny Vegas in we were lucky to get three hours and I just felt sorry for the people who were sitting in the audience. I mean he’s fucking bright, he’s hilarious but he’ll go on for an hour-and-a-half with his answer and you’re thinking, “Fuck, can we just get him to the green room?”

Do you drink and work?

Bob: A live show, I like to have three pints before I go on. A television show, I like to have three cans. I’ve never recorded a show where I haven’t had a drink. I don’t think so.

Vic: It wasn’t religious but we’d have lagers, cans. I do remember once when I had one too many at Sheffield.

Bob: You know how lager’s powerful, at some venues we’d phone up and say, “Please, don’t fuck us up with this Skol and Stella and stuff,” Just three and that would fuck us. You don’t realise at the time but you can see afterwards.

Vic: It’s acting, that’s what it is, and you can’t act if you’ve had anything, you just can’t do it. I don’t understand how people smoke pot. I don’t know anyone who can have any drug or drink loads and go on stage.

Bob: That’s a fucker.

Vic: Here’s something interesting. Two comedians in Denmark are re-creating Shooting Stars ad they’re going to film it.

Bob: Who wants to do that?

Vic: The BBC, with us.

Bob: Denmark? That’s butter.

Well, bacon really.

Vic: And very soft shoes.

NO, YOU LYING GET…

A brief history of Reeves & Mortimer.

1986: The Vic Reeves Variety Palladium begins at Winston’s Wine Bar, Deptford. Sketches include “Tappy Lappy” – Moir dancing to “Fly Me To The Moon” with planks on his feet, wearing a Bryan Ferry mask. The show is re-named Vic Reeves Big Night Out and moves to Goldsmith’s Tavern, New Cross Road. Moir is joined by pal, Bob Mortimer.

1988-1989: Big Night Out  shifts to the Albany Empire, Deptford. Spotted by Jonathan Ross and invited onto Ross’s The Last Resort, giving Reeves his big break.

1990-1991: Vic Reeves Big Night Out on Channel 4. Classic end sequence as Reeves belts out “Mr  Songwriter”, turning side-on to accentuate the flare in his trousers.

1991:  I Will Cure You album released. “Dizzy”, performed with the Wonderstuff, reaches Number One.

1992: The Weekenders is on Channel 4, where Vic and Bob visit a meat festival and buy sausages for aliens.

1993-1995: The Smell of Reeves & Mortimer on BBC2, giving us Mulligan And O’Hare, Stars in Their Eyes and TV chefs eating the flesh from a giraffe’s antler.

1995-2003: Shooting Stars, a quiz format featuring regulars Ulrika-ka-ka-ka, Mark Lamarr, Donald Cox The Sweaty Fox, Will Self, Johnny Vegas, The Dove From Above and multi-talented drummer, Matt Lucas.

1997: “Comedy” show It’s Ulrika! hits the screens with the duo credited as writers. It’s bloody painful viewing.

1998-1999: Families At War includes a Vic & Bob five minute bit with Bob as a spider on a crane. Bang Bang It’s Reeves & Mortimer gives the duo more space. “The Club” shines.

2000-2001: Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased) on BBC1, but it doesn’t quite work.

2004: Catterick begins, which charts the first hours of a brotherly reunion. They become involved with a murderer and a hotelier who has lost his penis.

[criminalmindsdrabbles]

TITLE: Lover of Mine [10:58 pm, 11/08/20]

AUTHOR: criminalmindsdrabbles

RATING:  T-T+

RELATIONSHIPS: Spencer Reid x Reader

PROMPT/SUMMARY: @candice-wayland requested in 2018, (Jesus I’m so sorry for logging out bc that’s why it’s taking two years as I forgot my password!): can you do one where the reader is traumatised and she refuses to cry, even though she needs to, and Spencer helps her??

WORD COUNT: N/A (I’m on notes so I can’t tell, I’m so sorry!)

TRIGGER WARNING: talks about a gun to someone’s head and deep cuts? If there’s anything else let me know!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: so I’m pretty sure my last one was in like?? 2017?? Holy shit but um. Yeah. Here you go? Another Spencer Reid one because who can say no to Spencer Reid?

MULTI-CHAPTERS: it can be, if people want it!

She’d been fine on the flight back. Normal, even. She’d laughed and joked with JJ, and teased Matt and Luke relentlessly like she did her own brothers. She had sat with Dave and done her paperwork so she didn’t have to do it at two in the morning (something she was prone to doing.) She had been fine.

And then she’d got back to her flat, saying goodnight to luke who was a couple of doors down, and shut the door.

And then there was silence.

And that... was more difficult to deal with. But still. She’d put her go bag outfits in the wash, watched a tv programme without watching it whilst it dried, ironed it and folded it back up for the inevitable call.

And once she was in bed, restless from the start, she remembered.

-

“Any last words, Agent Y/L/N?,” the unsub taunted you. Jacob Mikaelson. A 21 year old who had snapped when a girl had rejected him after years of pent up feelings. You had a half mind to tell him to go suck your dick because it’d be bigger but had a feeling, considering the gun pointed in the middle of your forehead, that that’d be an unwise choice.

“Just one thing,” you were proud of yourself, and the ability to keep your voice calm and devoid of the panic you felt rising in you. He gave you a lecherous smirk and you swallowed down the bile. Not the time.

“She won’t love you.” He flinched, minutely, but still flinched nevertheless. And then cocked the gun. Well, fuck, you lamented in your head, forcing yourself to roll your eyes as if you were bored and not terrified.

“No matter how many people you kill, Jacob, she will never love you. She never has and she never will. Not now that you’ve gone down this route,” he looked like she was hitting him and she supposed she was with the words.

It had always been something she had been good at.

“She’s already engaged Jacob. And she’s pregnant,” this, you considered, was not entirely true. She was pregnant but only you and Spencer had figured that out. “She will never love you. All you’ll be to her is a monster.” He pushed the gun to your head and you kept your eyes on him, wanting to stare him down as he took your life if nothing else, and forced a smile onto your face. “Last words spoken,” you taunted, and just as he got ready to shoot you, to end your life, your team came bursting in, someone having kicked the door down.

-

It was safe to say you hadn’t had any sleep. You had tried. But every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the sound of the gun against your temple and you were wide awake. You put your hair in a low bun, foregoing makeup, knowing that the team would probably see through it anyway, and put a pair of black jeans on and a pale blue jumper that was oversized. Walking in, Luke raised and eyebrow at your state of attire, knowing that it was unlike you. You gave him a smile, as if nothing was wrong, and he gave you an easy smile in return. “Late night,” he teased you and you felt a smile tug at your lips, and laughed softly, shaking your head, walking with him to where your group was, in a rare moment, chilling at one of the tables. You sat down, kicking your legs up and leant back, relaxing a bit. It was sad, but true, that you never felt more at home than when you were in work.

“Nah. My boyfriend broke up with me a couple of months ago,” you said, shrugging, ignoring the stinging in your chest at the reminder, “didn’t like that I had a job that wasn’t nine to five,” you added, rolling your eyes and smirking, the girls chuckling, whilst the men looked shocked.

“We thought you were together still,” Spencer exclaimed and you nodded, not surprised in the least, seeing as that was what you wanted. You said as much.

“I wanted that, honestly. It was no big issue compared to that case we had going on and I had foreseen it coming for a while. We didn’t want the same things anymore, and I wasn’t willing to leave the job I love for a guy who I knew wasn’t going to stay faithful,” Spencer’s face flickered with something indescribable before he nodded.

“Well, if you ever want anyone to be set up with, I know a couple of guys who are good,” you gave Matt a smile, thankful for the gesture.

“Thank you, although at the moment, I’m more than content to just feed the stray cat that keeps coming to my flat,” Matt and Luke laughed.

“I though she was actually yours,” Luke exclaimed and you laughed, shaking your head,

“No, god no,” you laughed, “my sister would have a fit, seeing as she hates cats,” seeing the questioning look, you laughed, grateful no one had mentioned your state,

“I have four brothers and one sister. The brothers are all older,” your lips twitched, remembering the threats that had slipped from their mouths when they found out about your breakup, and a look of understanding crossed Matt’s face. Right, he had kids. They’d probably have similar relationships with each other. “So my brothers are complete twats,” you said, laughing, and Matt chuckled, Dave, who was the only one who had met them, joining in, “and when we were little, my sister was obsessed with wanting a cat. Like,” you leaned forward, not noticing Spencer staring at you, completely enraptured, “she put up a petition on the fridge and basically blackmailed my brothers and I into signing it,” you laughed, remembering your tall, teenage, football playing brothers being cowed into signing a sheet of paper by an eight year old.

“And so, as retaliation, they got the stray cat, fuck knows how, into our garden and basically presented him to her as a ‘gift’,” you put quotation marks around the last word and by now they were all listening, “anyway, she went to pet him and pick him up but he’s a stray and really fucking defensive so she got scratched on the arms,” here you grimaced, not having quite forgotten that scream, and seeing the blood, and the pure pain on her face.

“Anyway, she had to get a shit ton of stitches and ever since she’s kept a very wide berth of cats. She has a literal phobia of them, something we use as guilt trip ammunition when we need something,” you admitted and they laughed.

“So yeah. The cat isn’t mine, but I do love going out and sitting on the balcony and having a cup of coffee,” Garcia laughed quietly at the coffee and muttered something about ‘glorified sugar’, earning a middle finger in return, “with the cat laid on me. And I alway leave some food out for it too,” you added. They all looked amused and you raised an eyebrow.

“It’s totes yours,” Garcia said gleefully, and you shook your head, ready to deny it some more when Spencer laughed and you turned, your breath hitching slightly, and cursing yourself for the stupid crush you had on your co worker. You could see JJ smirk at your reaction and discreetly flipped her off.

“Cats typically don’t bond with just anyone, especially stray cats, and so when they do, it’s typically someone they consider ‘theirs’,” you felt your eyes go wide slightly and the team laughed.

“I was just feeding it!” You defended yourself, and he nodded, not phased,

“It probably began to trust you as a result and then saw you as theirs.” You groaned and the team laughed once more.

“Great,” you grumbled, “now I need to shop for cat supplies,” you weren’t actually put out as you knew your sister would come round eventually and you liked the cat, but still. It felt nice to be able to joke with the team.

-

On the way back, you laid your head on the plane window and sighed. The past few days had been tiring as it was, but paired with no sleep you were exhausted and you knew it was beginning to show. Someone slid into the seat opposite you and you looked up to see Spencer. You gave him a tired smile, something he returned and he looked out the window with you.

“You okay?” You looked at him and wondered if you could say yes, but realised that it was Spencer and that he, more than anyone, would see right through you, so you settled for a shrug,

“Just tired. The case was pretty heavy,” you admitted, hating that you felt like that, but he nodded.

“We saved her,” he pointed it out, gentle and soothing, something you knew was true. But still.

“Did we?” You murmured, “she’s gonna remember that growing up. She’s going to remember being tied down for some sick assholes pleasure and not being able to do anything about it. She was a kid,” your voice hitched slightly, and you saw Matt look over briefly before going back to talking to his wife.

“I know.” You looked at him then, and truly noticed for the first time the bags under his eyes and the way his hair was unkempt and fuck if it didn’t make your stomach flutter. “But she’s got her mum and dad and her brothers,” the last part, you realised was not meant for the kid, but for you and you nodded.

You did have your brothers. But you couldn’t talk to them about this. They hadn’t wanted you to join in the first place and had only just started coming round to your way of thinking, but you nodded nevertheless.

-

Walking in the next day, Spencer met you at the door and inclined his head in a way you knew meant that he wanted to talk. You wordlessly went with him, the two of you automatically going to the office Emily had got for you when the office got too much for your senses.

Once you were in you locked the door and went to get a drink for the both of you, not bothering to speak first, knowing he’d probably already known what he wanted to say.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your gaze snapped to his and he remained calm, and continued, “whatever it is that’s making it so you aren’t sleeping?” You felt your throat close up, suddenly dry and forced the lump that had appeared there down.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, knowing it was silly. But still, he gave you one of his earnest looks and you felt your lips move on their own accord. Stupid crush, “I’ve just been having nightmares for a couple of nights from our previous case,” he looked like he was correct (something you didn’t doubt) and nodded.

“The one which ended with the gun to your head right?” You tried to speak but found your throat had closed up and nodded. He sighed. “It isn’t your fault and you had no way of knowing he’d do that,” you found yourself shaking your head.

“I should have seen the signs, I should have been able to talk him down, I should have,” your voice broke and you found, to your growing horror, that you were crying. His eyes filled with understanding and he nodded, and wordlessly opened his arms. Normally you wouldn’t have entertained the idea but you didn’t hesitate to rush into them, sinking into the embrace and breaking dow, feeling as if you were letting out a tidal wave of emotions that had been being bottled up.

After what felt like an endless amount of time, you got your bearing and realised you were curled on Spencer, your head on his shoulder, and that at some point you’d been put on the sofa. Oh god, you thought, horrified, he’d just seen you when you were weak.

“You weren’t weak.” You didn’t dare lift your head up even at his words because of course he’d say that, “in fact, it’s stronger of you to show your emotions like that than not showing them,” his voice held certainty. You pulled away slightly and winced.

“I ruined your suit,” you mumbled, and he chuckled,

“I think, in the grand scheme of things, that you making my suit damp is the least of my worries,” he teased you and you laughed without meaning to, and felt him relax at the sound.

“Thank you,” you murmured and he nodded, his hair tickling you and you felt your lips twitch at the sensation,

“Well, in that case, is now a good time to tell you I reciprocate your feelings then?”

[sassystarkinatorwrites]

Just like fire!

@sassystarkinatorwrites​

From Johnny:

Things has started to happen so fast around them now as Reed now with blood trailing from the side of his mouth from Johnny’s punch found himself pinned against the wall. Johnny didn’t react, didn’t try to stop his husband from what he was doing because the one thing he always knew was, if you were on the receiving end of any kind of violence from Tony, then you damn well deserved it. And boy did he deserve everything that was happening to him. Casually leaning back against Tony’s desk he folded his arms over his chest as he watched them both. Not like Reed would be able to overpower Tony one bit, but if by some slim chance that was to go down then Johnny was also ready to run at him. "I will still never see what my sister sees in you.” he shook his head, the look of disappointment written all over his face. This was all his fault, he had now lost his powers because of Reed, Tony was now stuck with them and had almost died because of it, and of course the world had turned to complete shit. All down to this man’s stupid obsessions with science. He half grumbled as he heard the forced apology, lifting his eyes he almost rolled them. His sorries meant nothing now, all that mattered was fixing this mess and doing it soon. Glancing over at Tony as he let him go Johnny did smirk though, there was something extra too about watching him bring Reed to his knees like this as he then slumped to the floor and was clutching his throat just as Sue then appeared. Of course she would run to him, that was the dutiful thing to do, Johnny might have wanted to have another round at punching him but his sister did love this man, she would be the only reason he wasn’t over there finishing the job. He parted his lips to speak to her just as he heard…. that…. voice. Snapping his head around and seeing Von Doom he could feel the rage burning up inside him again, if it wasn’t for Tony slipping his hand into his and squeezing it then maybe he would have just lost it. Pulling Tony in closer he knew too that he was baiting him. Okay so there was someone more than Reed that he wanted to punch right now. “No amount of money is going to fix this, so how about you all just shut up and get on with it.” He bit into the inside of his cheek, luckily for Victor he didn’t have his powers but he didn’t know that yet. Glaring at Johnny he simply raised a brow in return as he leaned in closer to his husband. “Soon as I have these powers back I think the first thing I’m gonna do is throw that jackass off the roof.” he kept his voice low, the thought of him having poisoned Tony only making him worse. The board then caught his eye as he slipped his hand from Tony’s and moved over towards it. Bending down he picked it up, moving it around in his hands like he was hoping that it would shift the powers back. “So what do we first?” he looked around at them all, three of the top money men with the intel on just about anything combined. They had to move quickly though as the sounds of sirens below were just getting worse.

@flamingshieldwrites​

It was easy to pretend someone didn't exist when they weren't around you but now with Victor Von Doom standing infront of him taunting him again, it was bringing back memories of before. How if it wasn’t for Dum-e and JARVIS helping him back then, he would surely be dead. How he had given Victor the satisfaction of having fear in his eyes and how he was right....he still didn't take drinks or anything from people apart from Johnny and he was the reason behind it and Tony didn't like to mentally admit that to himself.

For a split second, his fingers trembled as they gripped onto Johnny’s, he wasn't sure if he wanted to push him out of the window or run from him. What the fuck was happening to him? No, Victor wouldn't get that control over him again. Not this fucking time. Hearing Johnny’s whispered words, he couldn't help but smile and leaned back whispering “You don't need your powers to push him off the roof, accidents happen, dear.” 

His eyes were then diverted as he watched Johnny hold onto the board, as soon as Johnny turned it over, Tony gasped for a breath as he felt like he had been winded, his chest rose and fell. He was grateful JARVIS didn't speak up and tell him there was something wrong, it was like he knew not to tell the entire room, but a split second red flash appeared on his wrist device. Fuck, Johnny’s powers were affecting his arc reactor and not in the good way. Of all the things and all the timing, he sighed, he was surrounded by two jackasses, the world that was ending and now a time limit of Johnny’s powers V his reactor.

Pretending nothing happened, hoping at least Reed and Victor didn't notice anything he nodded “Johnny’s right, we’re the smartest people alive, lets save the world...together” that one word left a bitter taste in his mouth “..then we can have an ego match after” He had no intention to have an confrontation or talk with either men after but he knew he needed them right now to do what was important.

“Reed you wanted to harness the powers to help your project...” his eyes diverted from Reed to Victor, determined not to show any emotion towards the man “so what little extra did you add and don't fucking lie, you and your ego cant add little flares to projects and you wouldn't help unless it was for your own gain so spill” Truth be told, he wanted to use his suit to throw him into that big hole in the ground but figuring out what he did would waste precious minutes they needed, he needed to make Victor tell them. 

Victor folded his arms and took a step forward toward Tony “Smart little Starky.” Reed protested he didn't know but Tony wasn't giving him the time of day, he had figured as much, for an apparent smart guy, he really acted dumb at times. Tony rolled his eyes as Victor told him he was trying to filter the power of the board through a device to gain more power. “You know we really should've worked together, think of what we could've gain. I mean you've done well, you could have the city trembling at your feet so easily Starky but you just couldn't see the bigger picture”

Tony narrowed his eyes at him “you mean the whole killing innocent people to....” Victor cut him off with one finger and spoke “What is better? To be feared or to be loved? I say both” Those words send chills down his own spine, his own words years ago before he found out his technology was being weaponized. He was naïve and full of himself back then, he had no clue what was really going on in the world and he had no sense of belonging to it either, he was miles away from that young man he was back then. “Hmmm” Victor smugly grinned as if he could see the uneasiness those words brought the billionaire. “Enough! we need to work together, open your eyes for one second and realise that without that world out there you have nothing Victor. If you do it for no other reason, do it for your own selfish ego” 

The tutting came from Victor’s lips “Oh Stark, isn't Johnny fucking you good enough? you seem a little tense” anger raged up inside of him, as he sent a fireball hurling towards Victor and making him slam hard against the wall “Shit” he muttered, now they all knew “fuck” now they knew Johnny was powerless. 

Pressing his palms on the edge of his desk, he ignored Reed and Susan's words and looked at Victor who smirked “Okay, I'm sorry Starky, we can play later” Tony bit his tongue, he really wanted to break his fucking neck and he hated that he needed him right now. 

Susan moved behind him and touched her brothers arm non verbally to check he was okay. He wanted them all to leave and him to say sorry to Johnny for letting the cat out of the bag. His mind was spinning, but he looked at Reed as he heard him speak “We need the silver surfer” Tony scoffed “Got him on speed dial have we?” Susan was the one to speak up now “Tony” it sounded like a mother softly scolding her son, and he knew Reed was just trying to come up with something useful. 

“Or his powers, I tried to take them before maybe the board can...” Victor was talking, but his words made Tony glance over at his screen ‘O% Iron man Programme’, all that power was holding back the hole’s destruction or at least most of it but even Tony knew that wouldn't last for much longer.  “JARVIS if we diverted the power holding back the hole, added Victor’s power device and connect it through the board...” “Sorry Sir there is still a 35.78% power deficiency even at that rate”  

Looking down then back up at the screen “Add the ARC-5968 programme power to the theory is there enough then?” “But Sir” JARVIS was smart, he knew that was the power that kept his arc reactor going, but he also knew that it wouldn't instantly kill him, painful as fuck as it would slowly kill him but maybe there was a way it wouldn't be permanently depleted. He really didn't know, all he knew that Johnny and this world  wouldn't survive if they didn't do something “JARVIS just calculate the theory”. 

There was a long pause, Tony was almost certain he was hesitating “The ARC-5968 programme will boost it by 35.90% , no depletion of power will be theorized.”

[studentville-struggles]

For the Love of Cars // Lando Norris

So I’ve been struggling with A Double Life // part 3 because of #writersblock so in the last 2 hours threw this trash together so I could just write something. Anyone else?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Words: 2093

Proofread? It’s barely written let alone proofread. It might not even be coherent.

Masterlist

Summary:  A girls holiday Grand Prix trip leads to a series of incredible friendships, but could there be more?

Girls trips are the stuff of movies. Dutch braids, glitter, bottles of Prosecco and wine made days of sightseeing and sunbathing hilarious story-filled memories. These three girls had been your confidants and party partners since you arrived at university two years ago. This mini-break was your final getaway before you all headed back for your final year, a last hurrah of the summer.  

You’d gone shopping, sunbathing, done a wine tour and even hired a little sailboat for a day, something for each of you as well as the things for all of you. Today was your day, the day you got to pick something to do. You were all nerds in your own way and they’d just have to get on your level now.  

It wasn’t all bad the girls decided, there was an element of getting ready, finding that perfect outfit. The girls could cope with outfit critiquing and celeb spotting as you wandered around fangirling at everything little thing you could. You loved cars, always had. You had a little banger you worked on when you were 16, not that you’d have been able to drive it even if you could fix it. The only thing was, you’d never managed to get tickets for a Grand Prix before, so when the opportunity arose for this holiday, you had to.

You were just wandering around various exhibits and chatting about the cars and what you were looking forward to – the girls didn’t really watch formula 1 or care about the cars but were gracious enough to listen along to your ramblings – when another girl, she looked to be in similar age to you, started joining in with some of your chat when you were looking at an exhibit.  

“This is really random” she began, following on from your chit chat about engine providers, “but you wouldn’t happen to be at a lot of these would you?”  

“Grand Prix? No this is my first, never managed to get tickets before.”  

“No fair, it’s always fun to mix cars and girl talk. I don’t usually get that.”  

“Oh no, how come?”

“I come with my boyfriends family, it’s alright when his mum or sister is here but sometimes it’s a little male if you get what I mean?”

“Oh no I’m with you 100%, I’m usually the same.”  

Dilara and yourself exchanged numbers, with you suddenly realising why she travelled to a lot of Grand Prix with her boyfriends family. Given she was the girlfriend of one of the best drivers on the grid. You had promised to keep in touch and message if you were early to the track tomorrow.  

Your friends always joked that you could make friends anywhere given half a chance but it appeared to be true this time. Dilara became a good friend very quickly, having found you had a very similar sense of humour and managed to keep in touch with her after the Grand Prix. Some of your messages to each other were hilarious, and it turned out that she loved a fair few of the go memes that had properly tickled you as well.  

Noticing the random laughs at texts, Max had apparently gotten a little jealous and had asked who she’s been laughing at. After explaining your bizarre meeting and how you had been keeping in touch, Dilara started telling Max about you, the jokes and memes she’d passed on. Then an idea formed.  

“Do you know who she reminds me of?”  

“Yes and I’m already trying to plan so don’t do anything stupid.”

——

Only a few weeks later and you had some VIP paddock passes arriving in the post. You were informed, not asked or invited, that you were going to the next Grand Prix with Dilara and Max, ‘Lara apparently deciding she needed more female company and you needed more time with the cars.  

“Oh wow look at this we’re bumping into drivers so randomly, hi Lando how are you?” You raised your eyebrows at her but introduced yourself to the McLaren driver.

Lando became someone very important very quickly. You were both total fangirls over motorsport, and total nerds in your ‘thing’. The fact you could sit and chat and never feel bad for getting too excited about a project, or his races, new setups they were trying, was refreshing. You loved the girls, you loved your time with Dilara, but the friendship with Lando was, in a way, different.  

Whenever you quizzed Dilara on her weird introduction of Lando, she would merely shrug say that she was weird and that she knew how well you’d get on.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself spending more and more time at his house. You’d sit in the next room as he played on twitch, finalising papers and essays and cover letters for Masters programmes. Once you were ready you’d have him proofread them. It didn’t matter that he barely understood the topic of your essay, in fact, it made him better at proofreading, always highlighting the bits he thought didn’t make sense. You would usually wait until he finished on twitch, not that you had to wait long given the time you would spend working.  

Tonight, however, Lando knew you didn’t have much to do, merely formatting. So  20 minutes into his twitch stream, he shouted for you, earning a ‘Jesus Christ’ from Max who had to deal with that through a microphone.. Sticking your head around the corner, Lando was asking if you were done and if he could read your paper yet.  

“Yeah, I was just waiting till you finished streaming.”  

“Nah I’m only racing Max, you take over and I can read.”

“Hey!” Max chimed in, indignantly.  

You handed a print out of your paper to Lando and pulled on the headset. Comments came in on Lando's stream almost immediately asking who you were and if you were Lando's girlfriend. Unfortunately, your familiarity with Max only added to the dating comments and they couldn’t quite work out how else you could know both of them.  

That twitch experience was the first of many. It became a fairly frequent occurrence, you taking over and driving for Lando as he read your work, you chatting to Max and generally bantering about. Once or twice Dilara was with Max and managed to steal the headset allowing the two of you to chat holidays and mini-break ideas, something that was never shown on media other than that. The fans were obsessed with your friendship, and also obsessed with the idea of you and Lando together.  

You never brought up their speculation, you couldn’t without admitting how much you had come to care for Lando and how much his approval on the little things meant to you. Every time he let you on his twitch streams, your heart would flutter. Every time he would take you along to a Grand Prix, you had a little celebration, feeling like he might just care like you did. 

But he never said anything, he never did anything other than what friends could do. You tried dropping hints, you made him dinner more often than not at one point, always brought him a cuppa when you had him proofread your work. Nothing. You were starting to think your friends were right when they said that boys were oblivious to everything. That or he was ignoring your little hints in the hope you’d give up. He was a formula one driver after all; he could have any girl he wanted, why would he settle for little old you, student, nerd,  nothing special. You weren’t a model or a driver or anyone really.  

You very rarely spoke about boys with Dilara beyond the old “oh he’s cute” when you went shopping and the two of you “window shopped” boys. You’d try and pick out each other’s type. Though you always joked there was no one for you to pick for her, claiming “sorry no Dutch f1 drivers here” much to her dismay. She’s once asked about you and Lando, at which point you’d already given up on him and didn’t want her to feel bad for you, leaving you responding about how close your friendship was.  

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t the only one waiting for the two of you to make a move on the other.  

“They aren’t making any moves, why aren’t they doing something??”  

“Friends is great, but not what we were aiming for.”

That conversation was put on hold as Lando's call ID appeared on Max’s phone.  

“I screwed up and I need a friend to tell me to get over myself.”

“What? What’s happened.”

“I may or may not have realised I fancy the actual pants off of Y/N”

“She’s great, I can see why you like her.” Dilara was leaning in to try and hear what was being said. “I’m not seeing why that means you screwed up?”

“She’s going on a date.”

“She’s what?”

“Going on a date, someone set her up on a blind date and she’s going. I didn’t realise how I felt about her till a date was mentioned and then I felt hard done on by the fact she’s going on it. Like why would she just be sitting around for me?”  

Dilara was scribbling little notes out,  

“Mate I’m so sorry. You can’t blame yourself though and it’s only one date, it’s not the end of the world.”  

“I just never realised how much I took her being around for granted. I just got used to her being here, having dinner with her, her stealing my McLaren jumpers when we’re at a race because they’re the softest there and her cheering for me. Like, fuck me when did I get so stuck up and dumb.”

“Can’t comment on the dumb but girls will do that to you man.” Dilara elbowed him for that comment.  

In an attempt to distract Lando from his little feelings meltdown on the phone, Max had suggested an impromptu twitch stream, knowing Lando would shut off a bit if he was driving and that he’d put on a bit of a show for people. However not even 20 minutes later Oliver had popped his head into the room to get his attention.  

“What Oliver?”

“Door went”

“Did you get it?”

You knew something was wrong by the tone of his voice, Lando was upset and a little angry at being disturbed. Or so you thought. You didn’t want to be more of a pain, you had just turned up without an invitation.  

“Maybe I should come back another time..” you squeaked out. Tears still drying on your face, voice cracking from the crying you’d done in the taxi on the way over.  

You might have been quiet but Lando heard you. He practically launched himself out of his sim, repeatedly muttering “no”, his heartbreaking at the weakness in your voice.  

Not much could be seen from the setup Lando had from his twitch stream but they could see him rush towards you, dressed in a red cowl necked dress. You looked stunning, more beautiful than Lando could process given the hurt he saw.

“I'm here, it’s okay, you’re okay” Lando was comforting you, the words barely audible through his mic, having shoved it off his head and round his neck.  He had no idea what had happened but given you were here and not on your date, tear marks clear on your face, he could tell it wasn’t good.  

“Cmon let’s get you in some comfy stuff, can’t have you looking like a Ferrari fan now can we?” The small joke hit the mark, bringing a smile to your face.  

“You’re right, got any Red Bull merch?”

“Wow, right in the heart.”

The twitch stream was long forgotten, Oliver apparently ruining Lando's score and pushing all of Max’s buttons. Lando had you in some sweatpants and somehow magicked up an extra-large McLaren jumper, knowing you love the extra snuggle of a huge jumper. His team might’ve looked at him weirdly when he asked for one but seeing you wrapped up in his team apparel made him realise he’d do anything to make you happy and comfortable. He couldn’t fathom how it had taken him this long to realise how he felt. No wonder people teased him for getting extra team kit so she could steal it.  

Now he only had to figure out a way to tell you all this.  

[neiboltstreet]

Careless Conversations

so, i’m still obsessed with steddie so have this modern au bullshit with no pennywise and anything else that could hurt my boys!!

“And, some guy on the other team was far too into winning, Stan! Like, I pitched and he missed the fucking ball and I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Was ready to win the fight too though.”

“Oh? Was you gonna show them who’s boss, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Stan lets out a laugh, it’s quiet and soft, the same as his voice had been for the last thirty minutes. He didn’t want to wake up his roommate, not again. He’s piling up them free passes to make noise for when Eddie actually comes to visit him. Which, Stan remembered, wasn’t too long from now. Not too long at all.

Soon he’d get to have Eddie actually next to him, mumbling about who knows what, all saccharine and hushed. And, Stan would get to press chaste little kisses all over him as he does. Have his hand just tucked under Eddie’s shirt to massage at his lower back just as he likes it. Listen to every word the smaller boy could say. All the while, just mumble far too loved up replies into him. A mix of ‘yeah’s and ‘mhm’s.

He’d get to see him first thing in the morning. Eddie had grown his hair out just a little, it was fluffier now, has more volume to it. It probably looked wonderful in the morning, just little loose, messy curls. And, Stan would rake his fingers through it before scratch so lightly at his scalp. Have Eddie practically purring under his touch. Have a lazy, morning smile on his lips when he feels Eddie nuzzle up into his neck, tuck himself there like he was made to fit - like the final piece to the puzzle that was Stanley Uris’ life.

“I also got you something when I went shopping.”

“What was it?”

“You can’t know, it’s a surprise for when I get there.”

Stan knew what it was but he didn’t want to falter than far too happy tone to Eddie’s voice.

Eddie has shared what he bought on instagram, set it under close friends only and put in the corner: pls don’t tell stan !!.

It was some kind of watch, a couples watch. They would have one each, and when you touched it apparently the other would be notified that the other was thinking of them. It was sweet. He knew Eddie had been saving up far too long for them. Had worked too many extra shifts at his college’s coffee shop. Worked his little ass off just to give him something. And, it made his heart swell.

“Baby-love?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t see Eddie but he could imagine the little smile on his lips. Corners of his mouth only just tilted up, too tired for anything more than that. He could imagine because the response was followed by Eddie’s loved up little sigh. A very telling sigh.

It only happened when Eddie was on the verge of passing out. Stan heard it more often after their more heated calls. When the pair where coming down from too good of a high and Eddie is nothing more than little sighs that said much more than Stan could explain. The sighs that sometimes even said ‘I love you’ and Stan would just whisper it back, a little breath and all heart eyes that Eddie couldn’t see.

It was moments like that where Stan was too content with giving his life away for Eddie Kaspbrak.

Stan’s pretty sure he’s going to marry Eddie. He hadn’t said that, he didn’t know how. It was big words for a twenty-one year old. They had been together since they were fifteen though. It wasn’t as if he had met Eddie a year ago. Although, even if that were the case, Stan was sure he’d still marry him in a heartbeat.

They hadn’t discussed it but Stan would be happy to take Eddie’s last name. He knew how much it would mean to Eddie. For Eddie to keep his dad’s name going after losing him not too long ago. They could have both really. Edward and Stanley Kaspbrak-Uris. Or, Edward and Stanley Uris-Kaspbrak. Stan preferred the first, he’d rather not have his initials be SUK. Richie would never let him live it down.

“Are you getting your own place after this year? Before you start the postgraduate stuff?”

“I think so, yeah. Just me, myself and I.”

And, maybe Eddie. He didn’t want to pressure that idea into him though. But, Stan didn’t know that Eddie had spent the past few months looking at different jobs near Stan. And, had maybe viewed the undergraduate course for his programme at Stan’s college. And, well, maybe Stan had done the same.

And, just as a precaution, a simple just in case - he knew how overbearing Eddie’s mother could get at the idea of moving away - Stan had looked at places back in Derry.

But, Eddie had spoken non-stop about ditching Derry. Moving to a big city like Stan had.

“Are you sure your parents don’t mind me being around for Hanukkah?”

“They love you, Eddie.”

“I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll teach you how to play dreidel, it’ll be fun.”

Eddie was coming down a week early to just spend with Stan before he spent Hanukkah with Stan and his family. Just a them holiday kind of thing. Listen to Eddie hum Christmas songs while he worked on something, trying to not make it too much of a big deal.

Stan had noticed, just a little, that Eddie was far too careful with the whole Christmas thing. Stopped himself from saying it, called the next few weeks their holiday season. If he sang Santa Baby out loud, he’d change the lyrics to holiday baby. And, it was cute. It was really cute.

“You falling asleep, baby?”

“Not yet. Comfy though. Your shirt is really comfy.”

“Yeah?”

And there’s the little sigh. That loved up fucking sigh.

“Bet you look all cute. Can’t wait to see you like that right next to me, Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah. Can give you more too, can take them with you. You wearing the jersey?”

“Mhm.”

“You bringing it to wear here?”

“Yeah.”

“Good good.”

Stan covers his mouth to silence the little yawn that escapes him. His eyes close though, far too happy to think of seeing Eddie in the jersey again. Stopping his mind from wandering off into dangerous territory for an 11pm phone call.

That fire was put out rather quickly, alerted by the soft breaths that came from his earphones. Quiet and paired with the subtlest whistle that Eddie always had when he slept. The tiny little wheeze.

“I love you, Stan.”

“Love you too, Baby.”

The call was coming to an end. Neither ended it straight away though, just let the silence settle for a bit. Listening to Eddie shuffle around, probably tucking himself in the covers and nuzzling into a pillow.

“Goodnight, Eddie. Sweet dreams, my love.”

“Night, Stan. See you on Saturday... for real.”

“For real.”

[fizzyxcustard]

Just To Let Go (4)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Masterlist here

Full fic on AO3 here

Fandom: Real Person Fiction (Richard Armitage)

Summary: You and Richard Armitage are best friends and during a meeting in London, the two of you find that your relationship takes a very serious turn. You are terrified of letting yourself go and loving Richard, despite knowing deep down that you adore him. Your insecurity is keeping you both from being together, and you also find pictures online of the two of you in public. Richard begs you to accompany him in New York and make the move, but will you overcome it all and finally find your strength?

Warnings: Bad language, sexual references, angst, insecurity

Pairings: Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader

Comments/Notes: Originally posted under fizzy-custard as an imagine with no official story title. Now condensed into 4 parts. If you wish to be added to any character, series or fandom tag lists, message me or send an ask. Thank you @tigereyesf for requesting the final part of this fic...which I forgot to post as I felt everyone has lost interest. This is for you! ;) 

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991@blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92  @msjava1972 @bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty @hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp @adaliamalfoy @spn-obsession @armitageadoration @peneigh-dzredfohl @here2have-fun @xxbyimm @greendragonette @littlebird54 @thophil2941btw @princessoferebor94 @banlaochranda @wilhelmyna @gabrieleaquaman @rachel1959 @serpensortia06 @rcrispina @kategorically-challenged @tigereyesf @jumpingmanatee @alae-megallen @tschrist1 @inlovewithamantwicemyage @aspiringtranslator

Richard was watching as each person walked through the arrivals area at JFK airport. He smiled as families were reunited, couples embraced and friends met for the first time in years, or maybe for the first time. He held a rose in his hand, waiting for you. The rest of the roses, all three bouquets, were back at the apartment, arranged on the bed for you with a bottle of wine and two accompanying glasses.

He checked his watch as the dozens of passengers disappeared through the terminal and off towards their final destinations, and then he looked up at the arrivals board. Your flight had definitely landed: United Airlines from London Heathrow came in at midday.

Richard saw an immigration officer walk past and enquired as to whether the plane you had been scheduled to board had landed. The officer, a middle aged, white haired man, grunted, saying that it had and walked on. Surely the officers wouldn’t have had any issues with your visa and entry, so you being detained was highly unlikely.

Back in England and you had resorted to calling upon your parents for help and you were temporarily living with them until you could get yourself back up on your feet. Your mother had already told you how much of an idiot you were for giving up your job and home for a man you had only just gotten into a relationship with.

Two days before you were due to join Richard and you had been messaged by an ex-colleague from the cinema you had just resigned from, with a link to an online article. The article had shown pictures of you and Richard walking hand in hand down a London street, both of you completely unawares to any photographer in the area. But the worst part had been all the degrading comments you had read beneath, slating you for being with Richard and calling you very disgusting names like ‘dog’ and ‘ugly bitch’. You knew these were just jealous fans, but the comments had cut you deep, re-rooting all the insecurity that you felt you were just putting to bed.

The comments kept playing through your mind as you slept, when you showered, when you ate, and in the end you had decided against joining Richard. But you were a coward and couldn’t be up front and tell him.

Around early evening of the day you were due to land in New York, you looked up at the clock, knowing that it would be time your flight would land and Richard would be in arrivals waiting for you. Your father was too busy watching a quiz programme to even be concerned with your worries, and your mother was taking a nap after an overnight shift at the local hospital where she worked as a nurse.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table so you grabbed it and disappeared into your room. Your heart hammered painfully as you saw his name across the screen in large letters.

“Where are you?” he asked, sounding frantic as you accepted the call.

“I never got on the plane, Rich,” you told him, the pain in your chest rising upwards so you began sobbing.

“W....wha? I’m stood in ARRIVALS WAITING FOR YOU!” he shouted down the phone. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? I can’t keep this up!”

“Well, you don’t have to,” you snapped back at him. “Thank all your wonderful, dedicated fans for this.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Richard growled.

You closed your eyes and exhaled, gathering your thoughts as much as you could from the fog that had descended on you. “Photos were published online of us, and some of the comments made against me were disgusting. I’ve never been called anything like that by people who KNOW me, let alone people I’ve never met before. I can’t stand that.”

“Why should anyone else’s opinion matter?” Richard’s voice had lowered in volume, but the frustration was deepening. This was when you knew he was at his worst; he didn’t shout, but his voice became a quiet growl. “You’re playing me around now, and I can’t carry on like this with you, not knowing what’s going on and when you’re going to break up with me next. I mean, come on, you’ve sold your stuff and moved out. Where are you now?”

“I’m with my mom and dad.”

“Who you don’t get on with?” Richard almost mocked. “You gave up your job and flat to now let this stupidity get to you.”

“Why is it stupidity?” you argued.

“I have this every day of my life. My name and my job are dragged through shit by critics and God knows who else. You’ve got to learn to get over it. And I know that’s easy for me to say, but you need to stand against it and go for what you love in life. That’s if you love me...”

“You know I do,” you whispered, tears falling down your face. “I love you more than anything.”

“Then you need to focus on me, on our future, and fuck everyone else.”

***

Those horrible, degrading comments that Richard’s fans had put online about you still raced through your mind. You would lie in bed, constantly sifting through the words, wondering if they were right. Your relationship with Richard was still on the brink of breaking down due to the fact that you would not agree to go to New York.

Richard had been on the phone with you again, and it was now a week since you had been scheduled to meet up with him at JFK airport. He slumped down on the bed and sighed in exasperation; he was tired, frustrated and didn’t know how long he could continue fighting for you.

Each day that passed, that you were physically absent, and it became harder for Richard to function. The brief taste he had had of you back in England had left him hungry for more, pining for you more than ever. In meetings regarding an upcoming play he was considering, and Richard was distracted, slipping into daydreams, imagining you saying ‘yes’ and finally coming to New York to be with him.

He looked at the large wine stain in the carpet where he had smashed a bottle of wine against the wall a week earlier in a fit of rage once he had returned to his apartment, without you. The roses had been stuffed away in the rubbish as tears had fallen down his face, and his hands bled from thorns digging into his flesh.

And things now were still no better with you. Your whole relationship was hanging by a tiny thread, threatening to tear apart at any moment. It was barely even a relationship, and had only been anything remotely like what it should have been for a handful of days.

In bed you let your mind think of wherever Richard was. All you could feel were his hands on you, him inside you, and his lips slipping over every inch of you. You had never been so wanted, cherished and needed. Richard treated you right in every way a person should be in a relationship. The truth was this, you adored him, loved him more than you had ever loved anyone before, and it was all scaring you. You had put your fear aside once, giving in, and now those hateful comments were plaguing you. There was no one you could tell, apart from your parents. Richard’s career was always something you kept quiet; when you were both friends, you only said that he worked in London and New York to other people, never elaborating on the details.

All you had done was consider your own feelings, never Richard’s. Everything, so far, had been about you. You looked at your clock and saw it was nearly midnight, so it would be evening for Richard. You had already text a few times that day, passing the usual pleasantries to each other, but with tension lingering behind your words.

You picked up your phone and let it call out to him. Within half a dozen rings and he answered.

“Hi,” he said softly. You could sense a smile behind the greeting, as though you could hear it pouring down the phone line.

“I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you, Rich,” you apologised, pulling yourself up in bed.

“You never bother me,” he replied. “I’m just glad you called. I...erm, miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” you said, closing your eyes. You squeezed your lips together and tried to push the painful lump in your throat away. “I lie awake at night and I want to be next to you. I imagine how it all felt when we slept together.”

You heard Richard’s light chuckle down the phone. “Then come out to me. I’d come to you but I have so many meetings to finalise my contract for the upcoming play.”

“So you’ve decided to do it?” you asked.

“Don’t dodge what we were talking about. I know you. Come out to me.”

The more you heard his voice, and the way it pleaded for you, and the easier it was for him to break your resolve. All you wanted was to feel him, see him and be wrapped up in his arms.

“Alright, and it’ll be a definite this time,” you promised.

***

You laughed as Richard called you just as you were sat at the airport gate, waiting to board your United Airlines flight to JFK airport. “Are you sure you’re boarding this time?” he asked, chuckling. Then two minutes later into the conversation he playfully interrupted you and asked again.

“Oh, shut up, you daft idiot,” you laughed back at him. The tension and frustration that had lain between you both the last couple of weeks had dissipated, leaving peace, happiness and excitement in its place. Your interaction with Richard had become what it once was: playful banter, heart to heart conversations and philosophical debate. Usually the philosophical debate came from a book that Richard had been reading, and you had no idea what he was talking about, but would try your best to keep up.

Suddenly a voice came over the tannoy. “Welcome to this United, non-stop flight to JFK International Airport. All business passengers and Star Alliance card holders are now welcome to board.”

“Boarding is starting,” you told Richard. “I should land at around two, and hopefully the queue through border control will be quick.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” he replied with a sigh. “I love you. Safe journey, angel. I’ll be waiting in arrivals for you.”

“I love you, too,” you told him, meaning each word.

The flight seemed so long, so much longer than seven hours. However, this was only your second ever flight. Normally Richard came to you in London, and the only other time you had flown was when you had gone on holiday to Spain in your teens with your parents, and hated every minute of it. The take off was the exiting part but once you were in the air, you felt the tension in your muscles at every tiny bump. The loud sound of the engines did not ease your nerves either. The landing was even worse; you braced yourself for the whole descent, feeling as if you were crashing.

Finally you were on the ground and you saw the terminal. You followed everyone out, holding your large weekender bag with your valuables in. The sights and sounds were completely alien to you, but the thought of being with Richard again meant that you didn’t concentrate on the new environment as much as you should have.

Immigration was swift despite the long queues; an officer asked you a couple of questions regarding your entry clearance which showed up against your passport. You gave Richard’s address where you would be staying, and explained you were coming to join your partner. Then you had your fingerprints taken. The officer stamped your passport, smiled, and allowed you to go.

Next you collected your large suitcase from the carousel and began your walk to the main arrivals area where friends, family and taxi drivers waited.

Your heart began to race and you felt the butterflies hit your stomach as you walked through the vast terminal towards the exit. You walked through the door, exhaling loudly, and then you saw him.

The butterflies flapped viciously and you laughed, dashing towards him. You never noticed the large bouquet of roses in his hand as he grabbed you tight and kissed you, not caring who was watching.

You looked at him for a couple of seconds and brushed your hand down his cheek, feeling his beard beneath your touch. “This is it, Rich. I’m yours,” you whispered.

Fin.

[so-litudinal]

3 months today—it’s also martha argerich’s birthday and yuyuko’s birthday she’s eurydice this year and her card looks beautiful I hope I get it and there’s also a yuyuko readers theater performance I got an online ticket for it’s been steadily raining all day but not in an unpleasant way it’s been 4 weeks today since the bird might call her paimon but I have a few other ideas for a name anyway it was going just fine at the start but now not so good I’m so stressed out anxious really I sometimes feel like it’s hard to breathe and that my organs are not in the right place 

3 months—last night my other cat suddenly couldn’t walk properly it was really bad as if her hip had been dislocated or I also thought about a seizure then in my arms she started convulsing and couldn’t keep her head up and her heart rate and breathing got hectic and it was horrible really horrible even more so because it was exactly as it had been for ginger it was late on a saturday night we were having pizza and watching the same tv programme when it happened I thought I was going insane or maybe I was just hoping I was because it was unthinkable to deal with this situation again and when she was in my arms I was somewhat preparing myself to see her lifeless body I know we had to call an emergency vet but I was so scared about the money and then the vet who saw ginger last and was so kind and good to us throughout the whole thing wasn’t on duty this weekend it ended up being our usual vet who’s also very kind but I can’t help feeling a little reluctant towards him now since he never detected anything wrong with ginger even though we took her in not long before she died and I had known just known that something had been wrong with her for a long time I had been saying that she was dying for months anyway not now so yeah it was him on the phone so still better than that fucking emergency vet service that came home the weekend before ginger passed fucking useless and shamefully overpriced fuck them to hell and back anyway as my mother was on the phone with the vet it seemed like the cat was getting better eventually she was back to normal so there’s that still not sure what it was and I’m so scared it’s still something really bad that will not be looked into thoroughly enough and also my mother actually panicked too this time usually in times of crisis she manages to stay calm so she can figure out what to do not like me but not this time around and later she told me she was losing it because she was thinking of me and knew I couldn’t handle one more thing like that not so soon and maybe not ever I’m mad at something I don’t know what but I kept thinking fuck that shit is there something in this sick joke of an existence who’s just mocking me and tormenting me is it some kind of curse or something even though I don’t believe in any of those things it gets too much you know 

3 months—ever since that day I haven’t been keeping track of dates the way I used too and it’s a little bit forced and also not completely true since I still keep track thinking of how many days and how many months and how many years and how many moons

3 months—death has always been on my mind but it’s become obsessive I fixate on the image of my pets’ or my mother’s dead body thinking that if I have to live I will have to see them so many beings around me left to die and it’s worse since I’ve realised that I just can’t kill myself I wish I would just disappear already I can’t bear it I don’t want to survive any more losses 

3 months—a waxing crescent moon with 30% illumination

3 months—not yet a third moon

[goldenscript]

01. falling into place

prompt: the night we shared on accident → drummer!wooseok  ↳ chapters: one | two 

pairing: jung wooseok | reader, jeon jungkook | reader genre: band au / fluff, angst  word count: 4,445

The sudden sharp bass lining the walls of the decrepit club reminded you of Jungkook’s previous ministrations that ripped you from the comforts of your bed. It was pounding, chronic like a pain, and as much as you would’ve enjoyed any nightly excursion to a place with its visitors swaying their bodies like there’s no tomorrow, you were also irritated because you shouldn’t even be awake right now. You should’ve been in bed sleeping for a good eight hours then waking up for a well-anticipated internship at the Cube, a hub for all things entertainment whether it’s music, media influencers, and best of all, (your forté), event planning. But, instead, you were here to keep your best friend company and find a band he’s been obsessing over for the past year and a half.

Any reasonable thought went beyond why Jeon Jungkook, a videogame-wielding dork with a small, very minimal talent in music would be so adamant about finding a group that has been gallivanting around the city for only two years, but you didn’t question him for his reasons. It was rare for him to find interest in anything aside from the game systems or his laptop, so the fact that he branched into melodies and bass lines was somewhat of a miracle. Whatever PTG seemed to have, he adored it. Hell, it even has him set with a goal on locating them just for a simple signing.

“Please cheer up,” Jungkook said, glancing at you with a short glass of a piña colada in hand. “I know you want to sleep, but at least pretend you’re happy to be here.”

You sipped your water defiantly as if the childish act would get your point across. You knew this meant a lot to him, this was meeting his newfound obsession after all; however, he knew how much your internship meant to you. Losing sleep for this band had better come with some new epiphany or some shit, and you didn’t doubt you’d get the information out of Jungkook. Though truthfully, you’ve long since gotten over the fact that you’d probably be a little too tired for your first day on the job. This was more of a matter of making the tall brunet feel a little more guilty just a while longer.

“Y/N,” he began to whine, setting the cup down as he fully turned towards you. When your features showed no sign of softening, he released a huff, “fine then, don’t pretend. But I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Still, you remained indifferent.

He muttered a curse before trying something else. “What’ll it take to get you to talk? I mean you’re here now. Will you really keep this up?”

You knew you could’ve just opted to ignore this, but you broke your straight face and raised a brow at him for the question burning fresh in your mind. The latest set of the band began to dwindle into the white noise of yells and other discordance.“Why don’t you start off by telling me why the hell you’re so hellbent on coming here?” you asked, now turning toward him. “I know for a fact that missing one concert to see them wouldn’t kill you, so what’s so different about this time?”

He let out a sigh, giving a pained expression—one of obvious embarrassment and sheepishness—as he runs a hand toward the back of his hair. “You’re going to laugh.”  

“I’d like to be the judge of that.” you answered, a little too sharply but you felt relieved when he nodded his head. You had no actual clue what he was going to tell you, nor did any reasonable ideas seem to come up besides maybe asking for an autograph, what with the blank disc in the CD case in hand. But it was an odd conclusion considering you never pegged him as this kind of fan, especially not for PTG. Maybe Big Bang or something.  

As you continued to look at him in wait, he looked away to take another swig of his drink before continuing, “Fine, fine.” He took a breath, meeting your eyes with a nervous glint before saying, “I’m here to drop off a demo.”

You blinked, repeating, “A demo?” Never in your life had you ever heard Jungkook utter anything about a demo. It was something outside of your knowledge considering his usual expertise was always in graphics.

He nodded, “A demo.”

You had to ask, “For?”

His anticipating brows furrowed into ones that of incredulity, even his lips forming a small ‘o’ as he said, “Are you serious?” When you nodded in slight exasperation, he continued without even trying to hide his matter-of-factly tone, “My music.”

“Are you serious?” you asked, brows raised. This was definitely the first you had ever heard of him doing anything of that sort. You were certain that his interest in music was for listening, maybe dabble in producing his own tracks for personal use, not producing or writing lyrics as an actual career. “Are you actually Jeon Jungkook, gaming dork extraordinaire? Future programmer? Or is the real you trapped in the Netherworld?”

He guffawed, shaking his head at you. His features never faltered with amusement, however. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that right? I do like things away from games, like music, y’know. And programming’s everyone else’s expectations...”

“You’ve never shown interest in it until now.” you pointed out. With the smile on his lips, you couldn’t help but return his. Damn your bunny smile.

“Are you still mad?” You weren’t even close to mad. Just curious and kind of confused that he hadn’t spoken of this little dream of his before until now.  

“Is that why you left me?” You groaned, sending a flick to his forehead and relishing in the yelp he released, “Do you feel bad for keeping your best friend up when she has her dream job tomorrow?”

He frowned slightly, rubbing his forehead as he replied, “Of course I do! And I promise to make it up to you for coming with me to this, y’know!”

You had no doubt he’d probably bring you coffee tomorrow or even help you with some of the tasks you might have to do if it involved menial labor, even if he was bound to do these things anyway. Still, you asked, “How do you plan on making it up to me?”

He started listing things off with his fingers, “Free coffee, free labor, oh! And a free spot to tour with me when I hit it off.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that even in feigned anger against him, he was still your best friend. Even though Jungkook hardly seemed like the musical type, you weren’t surprised with the talent he had in his voice. On the rare occasions, he let you listen, you never wanted him to stop. So, with a resigned sigh and shove sent to his shoulder, you said, “Well, I expect all three of those things then—oh!”

From behind him you could see the crowd beginning to look on towards the stage, a little quieter now that the lead singer was saying something. The blond was looking on towards the rest of the bar with swimming eyes beneath the rather bright spotlight. Sweat glistened at the edge of his visage and the last thing you caught from him was a simple expression of gratitude.  

“What?” Ignoring Jungkook’s full-blown eyes, you gestured toward the stage where the total of five men stood on the stage. All of which were already giving a bow, each varying in different sizes (most notably the drummer who seemed to tower over everyone else). Besides him were a bassist with dark locks and a look that could, in other words, kill if literal speaking, two guitarists (one had a regal vibe while the other was most definitely pretty boy with his hair swept aside and the sleeves of his T-shirt very much nonexistent to showcase his well-defined arms), and the lead singer up front with a grin poised on his plump pink lips that you wouldn’t have suspected being in a rock band. “Oh!”

Your best friend’s eyes met yours with urgency, immediately standing as if he were about to run in past the stage and wherever the rest of the members had gone. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had, so you locked a firm grip on his wrist and gave it a shake.

“You’re not leaving me after dragging me out here, you dummy!” you huffed, watching him observe the crowd beginning to disperse. A select few lingered around the back exit, but you were determined to keep your best friend from completely embarrassing himself. He already left you at the beginning of the night, so seeing him go again was just going to rekindle that same irritation of yours from earlier.

“But, my demo—!”

You gave a huge sigh before heaving him into place at the bar, shooting an adjacent bystander and apologetic look when Jungkook managed to knock into them just a little.

“Don’t be so desperate! You gave them your number while you gave them the demo didn’t you?” You raised a brow at him, realizing you had been holding onto him for too long so you dropped it almost immediately.

He was about to retort before his open mouth shut and his eyes widened once again. Before you could ask him, he just replied, “Fuck. I—I don’t remember.”

“What?” you said sharply against the piercing bass reverberating from the walls. You’re almost certain he hadn’t heard you for a moment but the sudden trance he was under broke. His gaze is trained back on yours with something akin to determination and apology. You repeated, a little more deadpan this time, “What?”

“I’m serious! I don’t remember!” His voice rose about an octave and his eyes began to wildly search for an opening within the crowd. You followed you gaze, only getting lost in the sea of bodies that had seemed to find their way within the center of the vicinity. Their close proximities created a distinct stench of sweat and intermingled with stale beer, only causing your stomach to drop further into your stomach because a moment has barely passed until Jungkook has risen from his spot.

“If you think you’re leaving me behind again,” you emphasized with a glare. Not that there was any particular malice or anything, you just wanted him to understand. “Then I should retract this friendship.” Before he could protest, you said without an ounce of doubt between the blaring beats, “I’m going too, dummy.”

He didn’t protest, looking even more grateful than ever and remarked, “How did I get this lucky to have you as a best friend?”

“Don’t flatter me, Jeon.” You laughed, rolling your eyes in the process. For good measure, you even smiled as you said, “Just get me coffee for the week and we can call this shit even.”  

He ruffled the top of your hair with that bunny smile of his and replied, “Alright. It’s a deal then.” Ignoring your whines, he looked beyond the crowd in search of any familiar faces. It went beyond you how he knew from the dim lighting or the numerous faces that seemed to crowd the entire area, but he looked back at you with determination singed in his dark hues. “I’ll take the backstage area, do you mind taking the back room?”

You nodded, feeling a surge of your own determination because as much as you wanted to complain about being dragged out here tonight, you were also extremely proud of Jungkook for wanting to do something that made him this passionate. It was a far cry from most of the combinations he took a few hours to learn or even his sudden research on the inner workings of computers not too long ago either.

Although you looked over at the back room area with an odd pit growing in your stomach and the sudden steeled nerves at the sight of the small growth of fangirls, you told Jungkook you would be fine before he darted deep into the crowd and hopped onto the stage and went behind the curtains where Hyunwoo probably awaited.

From the sight of the guard by the back room, you had a hope that Hyunsik was in to give you a chance at reaching the back room or at least to pass along Jungkook’s phone number. It’s a feat, of course, between getting shoved by the fans and shoving them right back, you managed to make it past the crowd with little to no scratches and pass the message onto your blond friend before you’re making your way back to the bar.

The messages you sent to Jungkook about accomplishing your dead have gone unsent and even the call you tried didn’t go through. It’s been a half-hour since you two last reconvened and you can feel the sudden high that was enthralling your body beginning to slowly crash.

The seats you once occupied had gone untouched by others, but you catch the unruly sight of dark locks and the hunched over shoulders of the man that you’ve been trying to get a hold of occupying the one beside it and you could feel your spirits pick up.

“There you are!” You pushed down onto his shoulders and gave his head a light smack for good measure, “I’ve been looking all over for you, brat. Did you talk to them about your demo—oh fuck!”

Plopping down onto your seat, you came to two grueling revelations: 1) the man you just smacked was not your best friend and 2) the man was the fucking drummer. And to say the least, your widened eyes or your slightly dropped down lips couldn’t have made your embarrassment even worse.

With a lopsided grin curved on his lips, he replied as he rubbed the sore spot on his head, “I take it I’m not the brat you were looking for.”

You shook your head, immediately apologizing. Out of all the damn things you had to do today, it was assault the one man that was in the band you were dragged out to see.

In response, he extended a hand to you, “S’fine, I’m Wooseok.”

You took it and cringed at yourself, god you idiot, “I’m Y/N. And also very very very sorry. You just look scarily a lot like my best friend from behind.”

“So, scarily good looking then?” He cracked a grin, watching as your features melted from flushed embarrassment to immediate exasperation.

Letting go of his hand, you said with a roll of your eyes, “Apparently you both have the same big ego too.”

“Ouch—actually double ouch,” he said whilst clutching his chest and his head. “To think I thought you were a cute girl who meant no actual harm…”

You opened your mouth to retort and stopped yourself, your immediate question leaving your lips: “Did you just say I was cute?”

“U-uh, well, yeah!” he said with a smile still adorned on his lips and a steady bloom of pink flushed across his cheekbones. It was cute to see him a little flustered, because compared to his stage presence, the difference was exponential. You remembered seeing him up on stage and enjoyed the way he rocked to his own music. There was an aura about Wooseok that reminded you of Jungkook when a fire ignited in his eyes despite all else, even the embarrassment tinging his visage, that struck you. It wasn’t any normal kind, it was like it spoke its own volumes and you wanted keep listening.

“Shy?” you mused, turning toward him and leaning against the edge of the counter. “I promise I don’t bite.”

He rose a brow at you, “And how would I know that, Miss Y/N? We just met.”

“True…” You nodded thoughtfully, the smile curved on your lips still growing, “However, you can continue to get to know me if that’s what you’re up for.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Depends on if you’re gonna smack me again. I don’t think my manager or Hui would be very happy if I sustained a brain injury.”

“Oops?”

His eyes narrowed playfully, “Or was that your plan to get your friend a spot in the band?”

“Okay, Jungkook may be trying to be a rockstar but you can rest assured that he did not think that far ahead.” You laughed, running a hand through your hair. “And, anyway, I lost that punk about a half-hour ago and he’s supposed to be my escort home so please lemme know where he is so I can at least go home knowing he’s somewhere safe before scheduling a proper ass kicking for him.”

“Oh, you’re going?” he asked, sounding a little disappointed but you were certain that it was probably the bar’s music wearing down your eardrums.

“I mean I’d love to stay but I have this internship tomorrow and I’d rather not go in completely sleep-deprived. Can you just pass on the message to Jungkook for me? I think the reception here is just shit and I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for like an hour and I refuse to go back into that crowd.”

“Yeah, but are you sure you can get home by yourself?” he asked, tilting his head at you. “I mean it’s obviously not my business but I’d hate it if something happened to you on your way back.”

“It’s usually a safe trek, but if it gives you some peace of mind you wanna walk me then?”

“Really?” His eyes had gone wide, but you could see the happiness in them.

You nodded, rising from your spot. It’s rare for you to extend such a risky invitation to someone but you feel the care flying past your head and the sense of adventure settling in. He was cute so why the hell not?

A grin curved on your lips as you took a few steps backwards as if to beckon him forth.

“I mean… you wanted to get to know me right?”

Waking the next morning by the sudden screeching of your alarm had you jumping out of bed within a blink of an eye. You immediately got ready and started your trek toward the Cube, which wasn’t that far from the bar that Jungkook had dragged you to. And at the sudden recollection of your best friend, you were ready to smack yourself over the head and check your messages when the thought of last night brought back the thoughts of Wooseok.

The last thing you expected was him taking you up on your offer, his own meager steps stepped forth and followed you out the double doors. The two of you relished in the fresh air, trudging through the quaint streets with the occasional passersby glancing at the two of you sideways giggling over everything and absolutely nothing.

Passing the streets the two of you had crossed, you remembered the conversations that you two exchanged and a warmth began to constrict your heart.

“What’s that internship for anyway?” he asked with his arms folded behind his head, taking slightly smaller steps to match yours.

“The Cube,” you answered, almost dreamily. “It’s been my dream to plan events for them and I got the opportunity so I’m really fucking stoked.”

His brows rose for a moment, eyes flashing with something that of recognition but you paid little attention to it as you watched him speak, “Well, congrats. Live your dream~”

You nodded, grinning to yourself, “Thanks. You and me both, right? You love music?”

His head bobbed up and down vigorously, even his hands dropped to move as he spoke, “It’s something different compared to most things I guess. Not a lot of people see a point to it, but I love music so much. It’s something that’s gotten me through a lot, so being able to make a career out of it, share my experiences with others, and even travel with four other guys that’re basically my brothers is fucking…. Just… it’s amazing.”  

“Event planning feels like that for me,” you admitted. “It’s nothing like creating a whole damn album but it’s putting all these pieces together and watch it culminate into something wonderful. I remember planning events for student council and I actually had a blast doing all that shit and sharing it with my friends y’know?”

“I get that. The process is probably my favorite.”

You looked up at him, immediately lighting up. It was the first time you heard someone enjoy the process, so you couldn’t help but give him a nudge with your hip. When he looked over at you in confusion, you grinned, “It’s my favorite too.”

The whole thing felt too begrudgingly short, making you wish it had lasted longer because you actually enjoyed your time with him and getting to know him. He was a sweet guy who was passionate about his music and seeing that kind of interest was refreshing. It wasn’t like Jungkook wasn’t the same way, but the difference was one of them was your best friend and the other was like a newfound door in the metaphorical hedge of relationships in life. As comfortable as you’ve been strolling with your best friend, you liked having that other option especially when he seemed to share your same interests.

Glancing over at the familiar incandescent streetlights, you easily made out the familiar shape of your apartment with a slight heaviness in your chest. “Well, this is my stop,” you said with a now half-smile.

“Really?” he asked, looking visibly disappointed beneath the incandescent streetlights. “Damn… I was having a lot of fun.”

“Yeah… me too.” You relinquished a sigh, standing in front of the complex in uncertainty. “Do you think… maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d like to keep getting to know you.”

“Oh yeah!” He nodded, passing you his cellphone while you did the same. Your heart was hammering but your brain seemed to express its gratefulness at your sudden thinking. At the least, you two could have this and see where things could go from there.

As you received your cellphone from him, he sent you a wink and said, “I hope we see more of each other soon.”

He sent a wave your wave despite the confusion knitted between your brows and you went in to chase the remaining hours of sleep you could muster.

Although the last exchange you two shared was nothing short of confusing, you still couldn’t seem to conceive a theory to what he meant. How could you see him soon? Was he still gonna be in town? You were sure that Jungkook had told you they were going to be on tour all other the metropolitan area.

Speaking of which, you had messaged the dark-haired bunny-like boy to update him on your current progress and asked him how the rest of his night had gone. The unsent messages all now deleted as you made your way into the periwinkle and grey building, waiting by the desk with a sudden spike of adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The young man flashed you a smile, handing you a badge with your name and submitted photo before following him into the main office. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of a tall, lanky boy who you could spot anywhere now that he was so deeply pressed into the forefronts of your mind. But as soon as he caught sight of you, he gave a small shake of his head and pointed at the office doors with his eyes.

Oh, you felt your heart sank just a little. And it sank even further when the man in charge advised you against any romantic interactions with any of the celebrities in the office, especially the ones of the rise. Now I get it.

When you saw him again, you only flashed a polite smile and went on doing your assigned tasks for the day. At the least, one of the perks to event planning meant that all the menial tasks could distract you. God only knows you needed it now more than ever.

Your phone vibrated against your pocket as you enjoyed your lunch. Without thinking you read the message, feeling an odd weight settling over you. A smile crept on your visage and it made the weight in your stomach feel even heavier.

[11:40 AM] woo: Hey, sorry about that… company rules suck but it’s good seeing you again. (:

Despite everything in you telling you to ignore it and forget about him if this was against the rules, you wrote back:

[11:42 AM] you: Hey! It’s okay (: how are you?

Immediately afterwards, you received a response from Jungkook:

[11:42 AM] gukster: things went well! I might even be able to get signed!!! Got a meeting in a few days. Thank you so much for coming w/ me ((((:

[11:43 AM] gukster: btw you ok? I heard abt the company rules from hui & i def heard abt you and drummer boy

You replied, letting out a sigh because it was true:

[11:43 AM] you: it’s not like we’re dating anyway. It’s no biggie! And i’m really happy for u!!!! Take me on tour ok?

[11:44 AM] gukster: how about a lunch date? Jin’s sound good? My treat~~~

With a smile, you sent him an affirmation before rising from your spot in the backroom to leave. A part of you feeling slightly better. 

It felt silly to feel a little down about the situation and perhaps you didn’t understand why Wooseok hadn’t brought it up to you earlier when you mentioned it last night, but you could understand if he really didn’t want that to change anything in the moment.

As you looked up to push open the door, you caught sight of Wooseok smiling at you. Without anyone else around, he freely said, “Oh hey, Y/N! You wanna get lunch with me and the guys?”

You flashed him a tight-lipped smile, “can I get a raincheck? I have plans already!”

“Ah.” His features dimmed ever-so-slightly, “That’s fine. Next time right?”

You nodded, already walking as you said over your shoulder, “Yeah, maybe. I’ll see ya!”

At the least, you could see Jungkook without worrying about jeopardizing anyone else’s job. You just wish it hadn’t left you feeling so heavy hearted as you did so. If anything, it made you walk even faster out those doors.