#because it was a great distraction to the hell of rl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omgjasminesimone · 4 years

Note

Okay but... how did Raleigh win Cadence back? Greedy and curious minds want to know!

A/N: Raleigh’s song is actually Think About You by Jojo

Word Count: ~1300

...

Raleigh knew their paths would cross again eventually. With his tour over, and her press run for that terrible Chadley Fortnum movie completed, they’re both back in Manhattan. It was inevitable that Raleigh Carrera and Cadence Dorian would end up in the same place on an island of only 22.8 square miles.

Still, despite the inevitability, Raleigh is not ready to talk to her. Especially not after baring his soul in his new single, which has already shot to the top of the charts in the five days since it’s been released.

He steals another look at her from across the crowded lounge. It seems everyone who’s anyone has turned up for Ozone’s newest artist’s launch. But in a room full of stars, she still shines brighter than anyone else.

She’s so beautiful, especially in that dress. Raleigh’s eyes drink her in greedily, thinking about all that perfect unblemished skin beneath her clothes. She laughs at whatever Avery is saying, playfully pushing against the singer’s strong shoulder. Raleigh laments the fact that he can’t hear her tinkling laugh from across the room over the music.

As if she can feel him staring, Cadence suddenly looks right over Avery’s shoulder and meets Raleigh’s gaze.

Raleigh quickly breaks eye contact, downing the rest of his tequila. This was a bad idea. He should get out of here.

Before he can escape, Ryder Kohli claps him heartily on the back. “Raleigh Carrera! Long time no see! Where you’ve been?”

Raleigh shrugs. “Around.” He answers vaguely.

“Come on man, talk to me. How’s your foot? The paparazzi shots were gnarly.” Ryder tries to keep the conversation going.

Raleigh looks down at his recently un-casted foot. “I still have a couple more weeks of physical therapy, but it feels pretty good. And it gave me an excuse to sit through the rest of my tour, so that was a nice perk.”

Ryder laughs, clapping Raleigh heartily on the back again. “That’s one silver lining. Bet it also got the creative juices flowing. Congrats on the number 1 by the way. Think about you is definitely my favorite song of your’s since Famous.”

“Thanks.” Raleigh replies, glancing at Cadence again. She’s talking to Ozone now.

“All my friends keep telling me I just need to fuck someone new. Whatever I, ever I do, I’m gonna, I’m gonna think of you.” Ryder sings, concluding with a smile. “That shit is fire man.”

“Glad you liked it.” Raleigh mutters, looking for a way out of this conversation.

“Freedom, Ozone’s new artist, she did a cover which went viral. Did you hear it?” Ryder keeps talking.

“Nah, I’ve been avoiding the internet.” Raleigh answers. He knows the fans are likely picking the song apart, looking into the charred remains of his and Cadence’s relationship. He’s not ready to dive into all that just yet.

“Well, you’re in luck. Looks like she’s about to sing it now.” Ryder gestures up to the small lounge stage, where Freedom is getting set up.

“Wait, she’s what?!” Raleigh asks, just as the lights go dark and the stage is illuminated.

“Thank you so much for coming out tonight New York! This is an amazing introduction to so many people in the industry who I’ve looked up to for so long. I really can’t believe I’m here in the same room with such talented people. I mean, it’s insane. Ozone is such an amazing producer, and he has such great things he’s working on for me. But none of those things are ready yet, so tonight I’d like to cover one of my favorite songs of the moment, Think About You by Raleigh Carrera.” Freedom introduces.

Ryder leans over to whisper. “I don’t think she knows both you and Cadence are here man.”

Raleigh can’t help but wonder if Freedom does in fact know. Maybe she cut some deal with some trashy gossip site who’s going to film both him and Cadence during this very awkward moment. They’d have a field day if he stormed out now before it started. He’s trapped.

“I’ve been trying to move on, and it’s obvious that I can’t. It was my fault we’re broken, but I can’t let go of hoping, so I leave my door wide open.” Freedom sings.

Raleigh can’t help but glance over at Cadence as Freedom gets to the chorus. “All my friends keep telling me I just need to fuck someone new. Whatever I, ever I do, I’m gonna, I’m gonna think of you.”

Cadence is looking at him too, and he sees a whirlwind of emotion behind her penetrating eyes.

“So if it seems like somebody took your spot well that’s just not true. Whatever I, ever I do, I’m gonna, I’m gonna think of you.” Freedom continues.

Tears start to well in Cadence’s eyes. God, there’s nothing Raleigh hates more than to see Cadence cry, especially when he knows he’s responsible for her tears. ‘I’m sorry.’ He mouths to her.

Freedom finishes the song, and as everyone is distracted Cadence takes the opportunity to slip out of the room.

Raleigh ignores whatever Ryder is saying, hurrying after Cadence. He just catches her rounding the corner and sneaking onto an unoccupied balcony. He follows her frenzied path out into the cold air.

She shivers as she stands at the stone railing, but she makes no move to return to the warmth inside. Raleigh shrugs out of his leather jacket, slowly making his way over to her. She spots him out of the corner of her eye, her gaze remains steely. He offers her the jacket, but she makes no move to take it.

“Were you thinking about me when you were grinding on that model on top of the bar?” Cadence asks. He can’t tell from her flat tone if that’s even a serious question.

“Yes.” He decides to answer honestly.

Cadence scoffs, turning to head back inside.

Before he can think better of it, Raleigh reaches out to stop her with a firm grip on her delicate wrist. And damn, it feels good to touch her again. “I’m always thinking about you. And about how it was so fucking stupid of me to ruin everything just because I wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable with you.” He elaborates.

“You could have called me you know. Or returned any of my calls. Hell, a text would have been better than five months later, out of the blue, hearing you tell the whole world things you never told me. For what exactly? Clout?” Cadence counters, attempting to wrench her wrist away.

“That song isn’t for the world. It’s for you. I didn’t know how to say any of those things to you. Music is easier, it’s always been easier.” Raleigh explains.

He releases her wrist since she’s no longer trying to get away from him. He automatically misses her smooth skin. “Cadence, I’m in love with you.” Raleigh finally admits, to both her and himself for the first time.

Tears well in her eyes, again. But this time, he’s pretty sure they’re happy tears. He’s completely sure they’re happy tears when she reaches up to cup his stubbled cheeks, pulling him down into a kiss.

Raleigh lets out a relieved sigh into her parted mouth as he deepens the kiss, one hand tangling into her hair.

By the time they pull away from each, just barely, he’s kissed away all her supposedly kiss proof lipstick. “I love you too.” Cadence reveals, eyes shining.

She buries her face into his chest, and lets him slip his jacket onto her before he hugs her tightly. “But I’m still releasing the angry break up song I wrote about you. It’s totally going to knock Think About You down to number 2.” Cadence insists.

...

Companion pieces here

tags:

@furiouscloddonutpeanut @maxwellshippo @maxismademedoit @polishchoicesfan @ccolz88-blog @thisperfectmemory @lovedrakewalker @ohsnapitzlovehacker @dynamassxl @thefirstcourtesan @cordoniasmost@lovehugsandcandy @lilyofchoices @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl@brightpinkpeppercorn @nitta-jaeguet @cora-nova @choicesgremlin @desireepow-1986 @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @lunalixo @anxious-arliah @n-whas

#platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #choices fanfiction

68 notes · View notes

capandbuckysgirl · 6 years

Text

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase - 3

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase (Chris Evans x Reader)

Chapter 3 - So yeah, I’ve kept this going because it seems people are really liking it! WOW! I cannot tell you how much that means to me!!!

Warnings: Brief talk of drug use, nudity, swearing, fluffy as fuck! (No sex this go around, sorry) and I actually used parts of my own past for parts of this chapter, I’m hoping it goes over well as I’ve not talked much about those things with anyone besides my RL husband and a couple of people I’m close with… Feedback is good!

Okay… here we go! GIFS USED ARE NOT MINE, CREDIT TO OWNERS!!

During breakfast I couldn’t help but stare at Chris, watching as he ate his food enthusiastically, or when he would lift his drink to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. He would occasionally lick his lips or let out a moan of approval and I just couldn’t fight back the thoughts of him between my legs, his lips and mouth working me into a moaning mess.

Everything about this man had me on edge. I was now some sex-crazed maniac, addicted to Chris in ways that couldn’t be healthy. Not that I really cared, there was just no way I was giving him up now, not unless he said it was over.

“Y/N, did you hear anything I just said?” Chris asked, breaking me out of my very dirty thoughts for a moment.

“I… I’m sorry. I was…”

“Distracted?” He finished and smirked at me as if he could see into my mind and knew exactly what I’d been thinking about.

“What were you saying?”

“I was just letting you know that we have to head to Atlanta next Tuesday. I have to be on set to start doing test shots for the new Avengers movie.”

I listened but still couldn’t believe that this was now my life. I was sitting in Chris Evans’ kitchen, naked, with my laundry in his dryer. We were eating breakfast together after a night of passion that I’d never imagined was possible and I was going to be working for Chris on a Marvel movie. I was going to get to see him, in person, as Steve Rogers. Maybe I could convince him to bend me over the makeup chair in his Captain America uniform. The thought had me squeezing my thighs together and inside I was positively screaming, but I was able to keep myself calm as Chris continued to speak.

“Which means I need you there to do the makeup and styling, I already put in a call to my manager to let her know you were coming with me so she didn’t have to get the studio to find me a personal stylist.”

“I… I really want to thank you again. I mean, you still haven’t seen my work and I will be working with you on something… Huge!”

My excitement bubbled up and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning like a fool. This was my dream, and it was coming true.

“You’re going to do great, Y/N. Besides, I’m already attached to you in some way. The more I get to know you, the more I become selfish and don’t want to let you go.”

I smiled at him and stood, grabbing the plates and putting them in the sink. This was comfortable, almost too comfortable. We had somehow slipped into some sort of relationship without meaning to, and it scared me. How was I supposed to work for him and not want to kiss or fuck him when he looked at me the way he had been since we’d met?

I gasped as Chris came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and his nose in my hair.

“This is all so crazy, you know? I’ve never let someone into my house this soon after meeting them. It’s like I’ve known you forever…”

Exactly what I’d been thinking. This was comfortable. But was that such a good thing? Especially now that I was his employee. Sure, it was fun and I wanted him, but this couldn’t end well… Right?

“Chris,” I cleared my throat and spun around to face him, “are you sure this isn’t wrong? I mean, can we really separate this thing between us and also have me working for you?”

He gently pushed some of my hair behind my ear and leaned his forehead against mine, his blue eyes piercing through me and sending a shiver down my spine.

“What makes you think we have to separate it? Does it frighten you that we are heading toward something more than just you working for me and the occasional sex?”

How the fuck did he do that? It was like he knew me inside and out, like we were a couple and it was normal for me to be standing in his kitchen washing dishes naked after having had glorious, mind-blowing sex the night before.

And yeah, it scared the fucking shit out of me.

“Stop over-thinking everything. Can’t we just enjoy whatever this is for now? I understand you’re scared, hell, I’m a bit nervous, too. But this is the most normal I’ve felt for a while, and I like it. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared, too.”

“Really?” I couldn’t understand, why me? But maybe I am someone special - Chris was an amazing man; sweet, kind. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Maybe this could work.

“I told you, I don’t usually invite someone over so soon after meeting them. This is my home, my haven. But there’s something about you, Y/N. You’re not like other women I’ve met, and I like you - at least, what I know about you. You’re under my skin already, and if you want to, I’d like to date you.”

The giddiness that I’d felt at the idea of working for him tripled at the thought of dating him. I, Y/N Y/L/N, was sort of Chris Evans’ girlfriend. What the…?

“Yeah, I..I’d love to date you. What do you say we take a shower and get dressed so we can talk some more?”

“Does my being naked make you nervous?”

I laughed and gently shook my head. “You’re distracting, who can think about contracts and new relationships with you looking so,” I waved my hand at him like that was an explanation. He truly had fucked away my brain cells.

“Getting you into the shower all wet and dripping, sounds like an invitation to have my wicked way with you again.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the kitchen toward what I assumed was a bathroom.

It was glorious, light colors of cream and peach (I’d never taken Chris for much of a decorator, but this was fucking spectacular!), a large glass shower with multiple shower heads and a waterfall spout, marble tiles and a bench seat sat against the far wall facing a glassed in T.V. screen. He had a television in his damn shower.

What. The. Fuck?

“This is almost bigger than my entire apartment.” I laughed softly, feeling a blush creep up my neck and settle on my cheeks.

“It’s bigger than my first apartment in Boston, too. I’ve worked hard for the things I have, and I appreciate them. I tried to make my own way and not rely on money from anyone else.”

“That’s a good attitude to have. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen and had to find my way in the world without family helping me. I never had much in the way of money or things, but I got by.” I could feel the tears begin to bubble up, the telltale warmth and stinging behind my eyes. But I couldn’t stop now that I’d started.

“I grew up without my mom, thought she didn’t want me because that’s what my dad had told me. I lived most of my teen years believing I was the biggest mistake she’d ever made. Then I met her again when I moved out of my dad’s place. Turns out, nothing my dad had told me was true. My mom became my best friend, and I treasured every moment that I got with her.”

“Y/N,” Chris’s voice was quiet as he looked down at me, his eyes searching mine.

“She was my biggest cheerleader, always telling me to fight for my dreams. She’s the reason I’m in L.A. I promised her I would make my dreams come true. You’re helping me make that happen.” The tears were rolling down my cheeks freely, but it felt so good to be telling him about parts of my life I hadn’t shared with many people before.

“I’m sure she was a wonderful woman, she made you after all, and I think you’re amazing. How long ago did she pass on, I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?” His hands cradled my face as his thumbs wiped away the tears that were marking wet trails down my cheeks.

“She’s been gone almost twelve years now, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her. Cancer is an ugly thing, and watching someone you love suffer like that… It changes you.”

I was barely speaking in a whisper now, my voice choked with emotion as Chris leaned forward, his lips kissing the same trails his thumbs had followed.

“You don’t have to share anymore, Y/N.” His breath tickling against the skin of my cheeks as he spoke. “That was so brave of you to tell me, and I’m sorry you’re hurting, baby. It takes a strong person to get through things like that.”

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, my lips seeking out his. Our lips met in a soft kiss, nothing rushed or sexual about it. Just gentle reassurance and comfort.

“Let’s take that shower now,” Chris said as he broke the kiss. I nodded my head in agreement and allowed him to pull me in to the glass shower. He turned on the water, allowing it to heat up before he ran his hands up my arms and turned my back to the waterfall. My head fell back automatically as the water cascaded down my hair and back.

“I’ve… I had a hard time when my parents divorced.” He cleared his throat gently before picking up his shampoo and squirting some into his hand. He worked it into a lather and began washing my hair as he spoke again. “I turned to drugs, drinking… Just did a lot of stupid shit to try and forget the pain. I was skipping classes, fucking off a lot. I didn’t think about the fact that the more drugs and drinking I did, the farther I pushed everyone else away.”

“I’m so sorry, Chris. Life isn’t always easy, and there are times we find less than healthy coping mechanisms to get through. You’re clean now though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah… Besides the occasional drinks with friends or after I’ve been shooting a movie for a while. Need to unwind every now and again. Now I suffer from pretty bad anxiety attacks, but I’ve learned to cope with them. I’m making my way through life the best I can.” I nodded, understanding completely what he meant.

We washed each other, taking our time, sharing soft kisses and caresses. This was becoming more than I’d ever thought it would, but I was happy. For the first time in a long time, I was doing what I wanted and I was enjoying every second of it.

Maybe we weren’t a conventional Hollywood couple, and maybe things wouldn’t always be perfect - but I was willing to try.

“I think it’s about time for me to head home.” I didn’t want to leave, but it wasn’t right of me to invade on his home any longer. No matter how badly I wanted to stay with him. I just felt so comfortable around him…

“Okay, I’ll take you. Just punch in your address on my GPS.” I did as he said, handing him his phone back then heading back toward his room. I took in the sight of the bed, still a mess from our escapades from the previous night and felt a jolt of… something, shoot through me.

It couldn’t be, no… I shook my head and watched as Chris carried my clean clothes toward me.

We got dressed and Chris walked me out to his car. I settled into the passenger seat as I watched him get in the driver’s side. I could feel the tears working their way back up, not because of the talk we’d had or the fact that I’d let him into my life more than I’d ever done with any man before, but because I was going back to my own life for a bit. Sure, we were leaving in less than a week for Atlanta, and then to Scotland he’d told me, but it didn’t change the fact that I had to leave.

What if he changed his mind about us?

I was dick-whipped, for fuck’s sake. This was absolutely ridiculous.

If it wasn’t meant to be between us, at least I still had the job with him. He’d told me that his manager would draw up the finalized contract and I’d have it before we took off for the east coast. I needed to calm my shit down and not become so hung up and desperate. I wasn’t a fucking bat-shit crazy girl that needed a man to make her feel whole or whatever. I was going to earn my keep and show the world what I could do.

Chris followed the directions I’d typed in to get to my apartment, and before I knew it, we were pulling up to my building.

“Well, this is it. Thank you again, for everything, Chris.”

“I’ll see you in a few days, baby. And it was my pleasure.” He kept calling me baby, and it was doing something to me. He really had to stop that.

“I’m so glad we met, and I will see you soon.” I reached toward the door handle, but he stopped me as he grabbed my other hand.

“Here, take this.” He slipped a piece of paper into my hand and squeezed a bit in a reassuring way.

Opening my hand I couldn’t help but smile. There, on a slip of paper, was his phone number.

“I’ll text you tonight?” It came out more as a question, but he smiled at me once again and nodded his head. Leaning over the center console, he kissed my lips softly, his tongue tracing the bottom lip before he pulled back and I opened the passenger side door. “Definitely talking to you tonight.” I said as I adjusted myself and got out of the car.

“Damn right you will,” He called from the car, one eyebrow quirked up at me and a smile pulled across my lips once more. He was fucking driving me crazy, in the best way possible of course.

I didn’t turn back as I walked up to my apartment, opened the door, and walked in. Shutting the door behind me, I closed my eyes and slid to the floor, the slip of paper still clutched in my fists as my heart began to race. This couldn’t be happening.

I would not fall in love this fast… I couldn’t! Or was it already too late?

I was so fucked…

#masterlist reblog #my work #winchesterswantmypie #chris evans x reader

40 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

Gentle Rain (Part Eleven)

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Author: Gumnut

3 – 7 Feb 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 3218

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, Gordon/Penelope, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline.

Timeline: Six months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: For @scribbles97 I have been staring at this forever. RL has been kicking my butt and I keep finding myself falling asleep while trying to write only having written a paragraph or two. So basically I’ve been staring at this for far too long. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Many thanks for all your wonderful support. This fandom and its fans are amazing.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

If it hadn’t been Christmas Eve, Kayo would have been inclined to stay in their rooms. She would have most definitely preferred Virgil to sleep as long as possible, and if he had stayed asleep, she would have left him there. But at seven in the evening, he woke foggy, realised what time it was and was adamant that they needed to make an appearance.

He still looked half dead, but admittedly that may have been something to do with the mess of hair on his head. He was also stiff as a board and was moving awkwardly, but his mood was cranky and he growled at her at least twice at the mere mention of anything related to his injury, so she left it. Perhaps Scott could kick his ass.

She followed Virgil down to the comms room, knowing his target was none other than the first coffee pot to cross his path. Stepping into the room, she caught the tail end of a question.

“...Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you didn’t need to know. You’ve done far too much already.” Em paused. “And I wasn’t ready to tell you.”

The tableau leapt up and slammed into her retinas.

Kip Harris.

Damn.

She had been distracted. She hadn’t been able to warn Em. She knew about their relationship, of course, and had intended to take her aside and speak to her about it. Then Broome happened, and Virgil.

Damn. She was slipping up.

“Virgil?” Scott.

“Before anyone asks, I’m fine, I just need coffee.” And she watched as her fiancé scanned the room, looking for that fabled pot.

“Here you go, sir. Just as you like it.” Parker appeared as if from nowhere and Virgil pounced on the mug of liquid ecstasy in his hand.

Kayo turned away, refusing to be baited by her lover’s relationship with coffee.

Em was pale, sitting in her hoverscoot beside Scott. Her brother caught her eye and she was immediately pinned. Scott was not happy. No doubt there would be hell to pay later. The man hated not knowing and the Kip Harris and Em Harris surprise would have royally pissed him off.

“But tell me, honey, are you okay?” Kip’s attention was narrowed on his niece.

Em held up a hand. “I’m fine, Uncle. I promise. Scott has me well in hand.” She forced a smile.

“Oh, he does, does he?” That narrow beam of attention hit the eldest Tracy brother between the eyes.

“Yes, sir, I do.” And those blue eyes blazed back, defiant.

“You better, boy.”

“Uncle Crispin!”

“Kip, dear, put away your dynamite. Scott’s a Tracy. There are none more honourable. You should know that.” Her grandmother’s faith echoed around the sunken lounge.

Virgil, probably purposefully ignoring them all in favour of his coffee, groaned unconsciously as he folded himself onto one of the lounges beside Scott.

Immediately the older brother’s attention dropped Kip and narrowed on the younger pilot. “Virg, are you sure you’re okay?”

Virgil sighed as he leaned back, closing his eyes, coffee still in hand. “Give me a minute. I’m still fuelling.” He took another gulp of the very hot coffee and groaned obscenely.

“God, Virg, get a room.”

“Already got one, Gordon. Don’t like it? Find your own.” Another gulp and a sigh. “Parker, marry me.”

Kayo, sitting down beside him with her own cup of coffee, kicked his boot. “You are taken. Though that may change in the near future if you don’t stop making love to your mug.”

Gordon snorted his own drink and spluttered all over himself.

Virgil startled. Foggy brown eyes found hers and they were suddenly full of apology.

She frowned.

“Heard you had a bad one this morning.”

Virgil’s attention was immediately diverted, ever attentive to his hero. Kayo resisted rolling her eyes.

“Cyclone off Broome. Had a bit of trouble retrieving the module from the ocean surface.”

Kip was peering at him closely. “You’re lookin’ a little peaked there, son.”

Kayo eyed Virgil again. He was still a touch pale...

“I’m okay, Mr Harris.” Virgil took another gulp of coffee and hid behind his mug.

Em was eyeing her uncle and Virgil with a frown on her face, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

“Virgil? Kayo? Could I speak with the two of you for a moment? In my office.” Scott’s expression was ominous. She vaguely wondered what his reaction would be if she said no.

But Virgil was moving, his body almost visibly creaking as he staggered up and off the lounge still clutching his coffee mug. God, she wished he could have stayed in bed.

Scott gripped Em’s hand. “I’ll only be a moment.” He directed his hoverchair up and out of the lounge circle, heading for the elevator. Virgil followed, his body loosening up as he gained momentum. Kayo fell in line at a more sedate pace.

The elevator ride was silent.

Scott was obviously beyond pissed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

And as soon as that office door was closed, she was proven right.

“Why the hell have you kept me in the dark?”

“What?” Virgil’s bewilderment was obvious.

“Did you know Em lost her legs in Perth?”

Virgil blinked. “Well, yeah, didn’t you?”

That brought Scott up short. “No. I did not.” A glare. “I didn’t even know she was a paraplegic.”

“Really?”

“I never met the woman until today! Do you have any idea how it felt to discover her injuries like that? I don’t think it is unreasonable that my brother and our security officer keep me up to date on important matters.”

“I thought you knew.” Virgil’s eyes were wide.

“Well, I didn’t! And this Kip Harris relationship was the icing on the cake.”

Her fiancé’s eyes widened even further. “What? She’s related to Kip?”

“Her uncle. You didn’t know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that! What am I? Your local fountain of information? I was asleep when Kip arrived, for goodness sake. I’ve said two words to the man.”

“Kayo knew, though, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question as his accusing gaze landed on her.

“I knew. I was going to speak to Em, but I was otherwise detained. My apologies.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” Those blue eyes were accusing.

“I wasn’t. It is not my information to share. None of it affects or even relates to our operations. She checks out. Penelope double checked and agreed. Sighting her personal information does not give me the right to share it with all and sundry. If she had been a threat, Scott, of course, but she is not. She is simply a private individual who has been through no small amount of hell in her life and you should be respecting her privacy.” Her lips thinned as she glared at the man. “If you want to know more about Em, ask her.”

A large hand took hers and she turned to discover her favourite pair of brown eyes supporting her calmly. Kayo frowned, she felt oddly protective of Em. She could understand Scott’s anger, but she felt defensive as if the man was intruding. She adored her big brother, but the man could be an ass sometimes. A thumb caressed the back of her fingers.

Scott stared back and forth between them, his lips pursed.

“Scott, are you okay?” Virgil’s baritone was soft, his thumb didn’t stop moving.

Scott glared at his brother. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” The expletive punctured the room. The hand in hers squeezed gently and let her go.

A brief flash of request in her direction from her lover, and she got the message. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye, simply slipping out of the room with a gentle smile at Virgil.

This was brother territory.

And besides, she needed to check on Em. Who knew what Scott had put her through with this.

-o-o-o-

The door shut behind Kay and Virgil felt the loss immediately.

“Where’s she going?”

“What? Did you want her to wait for a dismissal?” Virgil’s tone was sharp.

Scott’s brow crinkled. “What’s got into you?”

“You.”

“What? Why?”

“You tell me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Preferably something about what the hell is going on with you.”

“I’m fine.” His brother turned towards his desk and to Virgil’s amazement, activated the holographic interface and started shuffling icons.

Virgil’s palm came down on the off switch with a sudden crack. “No.”

“What the hell?”

“Scott, you are my brother and I love you more than my life, but, god, you can be an ass.”

“Says the master of all asses.”

Virgil blinked, frowned, and bit his lip. “Uh, you want to try that again?”

Scott’s eyes were wide. “That so didn’t come out the way I expected.”

“I didn’t think so.” Virgil sighed. “C’mon, Scott, what’s bugging you?”

His brother sagged in his hoverchair. A frustrated sigh.

Virgil grabbed a chair and slapped it down beside his brother and took a seat...slowly. Goddamnit, he was getting sick of that ache. Now was not the time. A flinch at the wrong moment and his brother would be all over him.

This was about Scott, not about his injury.

“Is it Em?”

The flash of blue in his direction most certainly confirmed it, but his brother turned away again.

“Scott?”

Apparently, the far wall was extremely interesting. His voice was quiet. “I like her, Virg.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that’s great, Scott.”

But the expression on his brother’s face was anything but happy as he turned to face Virgil. “We had some great conversations in the hospital. Her sense of humour...” Scott smiled, seeing something other than the room. “She has me laughing despite everything.” Thoughtful. “And she is strong. Oh god, is she strong.” But his eyes shuttered before turning to Virgil again. “Do you have any idea what it was like to meet her this morning, so happy to finally see her, only to discover how injured she is?”

Virgil frowned. “It doesn’t make her any less of a person, Scott.”

Blue eyes flared. “Of course not! It’s was just...it was like she was injured then and there in front of me. I had an...assumption...and fate may have taken her legs long ago, but at that moment, they were taken from me.” He looked away. “And god damn it hurt.”

Virgil shifted in his seat. “You more than like her, don’t you.”

Scott looked up at him, lips thinning, before looking away again and saying nothing.

He placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. The muscles under his fingers were strung like piano wire. “What else?”

The shoulder flexed. “She lost her legs because of me.”

A sigh. “She lost her legs because a building fell on her.”

“She did damage to herself to get to me.”

“She did what she had to do. It was not your fault.”

“How can you say that? I was supposed to save her.”

“But she saved you, and in the process had to make a shitty decision. But it was her decision. Don’t take that away from her.”

“Virgil-“

“Scott, do you blame Kayo for my injury? Do you blame her because I ripped open my ribcage saving her life?” He pinned his brother with his eyes.

“Of course not!”

“Then how can it possibly be your fault that Em lost her legs saving you?” A breath. “In fact, it was nobody’s fault, just shitty fate kicking our asses yet again.”

And there is was. Scott’s anger flaring up behind those blue eyes. But this anger was healthier than the despair that had leeched into his voice. This was determined anger, strong anger.

The anger that kept his brother going.

“Now, I don’t know about you, big brother, but I am starving.” He pushed himself out of the chair and held back yet another grimace as pain lanced up and down his side. Blue eyes frowned at him. “I am going downstairs and I am going to eat some of that delicious food John ordered.” He gripped his brother’s shoulder again. “And you are going down there to dazzle that lovely young woman with that weaponised smile of yours.” He grabbed his coffee cup off the edge of the desk. “There will also be more coffee. Definitely more coffee.”

“You are still an ass.”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, but I’m good ass.” He smirked. “Just ask Kay.”

-o-o-o-

By the time Virgil and Scott re-joined the family downstairs, Grandma had laid out all the evening’s food.

And tied Alan to a chair to keep his fingers out of it.

“Aww, Grandma!”

“You will sit there, young man, and wait for your brothers. We have guests, where are your manners?” She was gazing up at Kip who had approached and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“They were eaten by the black hole where my stomach used to be.” Virgil, still unseen by his youngest brother, had to laugh at the expression on Alan’s face. A pout mixed with frustrated anger and longing for the food in front of him. “Where the hell are they?”

“Right here, little bro.” Virgil snorted at him and waltzed past to have at the food.

“Oi, young man.” He was thwapped by a delicate hand. “Guests first.”

“Yes, Grandma.”

Kay eventually rescued him, and Virgil was happy to see Em doing something similar for a blushing Scott. He eyed Kip and Em during the night as well, his artistic eye finally seeing just the touches of resemblance. There wasn’t much. Where Kip was dark, Em was pale. Where Kip was white haired, all trace of his original colour gone, Em’s hair was a cloud of wavy almost black hovering around her head. Em’s pale blue eyes couldn’t be further from Kip dark brown. Not to mention Em’s Australian accent going up against Kip’s American twang, there was no comparison. But there was something in their faces, just an echo of similarity, barely there that labelled them as family.

As the evening moved on, a comfortable swell of conversation bounced about the room. Kay kept him company all night. He suspected she was hovering over him regarding his injury, but he didn’t have the energy to challenge her, and besides, he loved her company regardless. Em stuck with Scott mostly, the chair-bound pair quite cute in their attachment. Further observation convinced Virgil that Scott was seriously attracted to this woman. He was attentive and smiled softly from time to time, something in his eyes. It got to the point that Virgil had to look away or embarrass himself. There was definitely something there.

He couldn’t help the warmth that welled inside at seeing his brother happy.

When Em wasn’t with Scott, she was with Kay. The two of them sat on a couch at one point chatting away quite happily.

Virgil couldn’t help but grin at that as well.

Gordon spoke often to Penelope. In fact, the aquanaut never seemed to be very far away from the blonde woman. It left Virgil wondering if he was missing something, but Penny didn’t seem to mind.

If he hadn’t gone outside for a fresh breath of air at around ten, he might have never ascertained what exactly was going on between those two. As it was, he was glad he couldn’t actually see them. Hearing them was intrusive enough.

“Pen, I...”

“Gordon, what exactly are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I-“

“Gordon, I have been waiting for you to kiss me for over a year now. If you don’t action that want I’m going to- hmph.”

The sounds that followed didn’t need subtitles.

Virgil crept back inside.

Grandma, on the other hand, was anything but subtle. At one point she jumped on Kip’s lap and kissed him madly in full view of everyone. There were several good-natured groans.

John couldn’t help himself and kept the desk holographic interface running. Grandma coaxed him to the lounge conversation several times, but the man seemed chained to the desk and kept returning. He also appeared to be talking to someone...a lot. Virgil grew suspicious, but didn’t comment. He didn’t think Eos would cause quite that kind of smile on his brother’s face, but if it was someone else...well, Virgil could always third degree him later.

All in all, it was a pleasant evening. But as it wore on, he found himself flagging. Between the pain in his side and the strain of the day, despite his nap earlier, a comfortable conversation on the couch eventually drifted into sleep.

He woke to a not so gentle nudge from Kay. “C’mon, love, let’s get you to bed.”

He blinked, only half awake. His family was smiling and smirking at him. Damn. “I’m fine.” He struggled to straighten up. His side screeched at him and he groaned.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Virgil.” Her glare was ready to rip his face off.

“Okay, okay, I get the message.” A large hand, Kip’s? Was helping him off the lounge. “I’m going...going.”

Kay was there and they were leaving the room. “Merry Christmas everyone.” A range of well wishes and the elevator ate them.

Kay kissed him, her hand on his cheek. “You big idiot.”

“Wha-?” But he was really too tired to care.

They made it to their rooms. Clothes off, pyjama bottoms on. Bed.

He curled up beside Kay and let sleep take him.

-o-o-o-

The beep was soft, barely loud enough to hear, but it woke Kayo without a problem. It was designed to do that.

Beside her, Virgil slept on, the same beep equally designed not to wake him. In fact, he didn’t even know of its existence. Kayo planned to keep it that way.

Slipping out of bed, she padded barefoot out of the room and closed the door behind her. Secure in the knowledge of the room’s soundproofing she grabbed her comms and, keeping both her voice and the volume low, answered John’s summons.

The clock on the wall said 3.26am.

“Kayo?”

“This better not be a rescue, John.” The pause at the other end of the line confirmed her suspicions. “No, I’m sorry. He is not going out.”

“Kayo, you know I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice.”

“There is no choice involved. You can’t ask him this.”

“Honestly, I don’t want to, but his engineering knowledge and equipment is needed.”

“Send Brains.”

He fell silent.

“John, he is exhausted and in pain. He is not going.” Final word.

“Copy that.” The line went dead.

She sighed. Virgil would not be happy, but he would just have to live with it.

Better grumpy alive than happy dead.

She turned off her comms and threw the dress over the back of the lounge.

A drink of water and she killed the light, tiptoeing back into their room.

He was softly snoring.

Despite herself, her heart warmed at the sound. Drawn to him, she climbed back into bed and wrapped herself around him, her face buried in the back of his neck. He didn’t even stir. God, she loved him.

And be damned if she would let his job throw his life away

After all, it was hers.

-o-o-o-

End Part Eleven

Part Twelve

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #virgil/kayo #kayo kyrano #scott tracy #scott/em #scott/oc #warm rain #gentle rain

15 notes · View notes

hmratking · 6 years

Note

(ง'̀-‘́)ง: are you okay?

Sure! Life is fine. Hard, but fine! Just living my life day by day because, I mean, what else can we do, right? :D

But truthfully, no. I’m not. I’ve been in a horrible rut the past three weeks. I’m exhausted, depressed, extremely busy, and a dark cloud lingers over my head reminding me that it’s never going to be ok. I have tons of essays to grade and I don’t have time to sit and write. No writing means anxiety for me. Anxiety leads to envy when I see people interacting with each other and I can’t. Envy leads to rage, where I blame myself for my decision to make an unlikeable character to interact with (as in a villain). Rage leads to sadness, where I just turn away from tumblr. Sadness leads to suffering, where i constantly question if this is all worth it.

It’s a vicious cycle, but I try my best to overcome it by sending ask requests and I’m so grateful for the few that I do get. They are a distraction. Thank you.

It’s always hard being the one there for everyone because you know that they are suffering and they tell you their problems and you have to smile and give them a shoulder to cry on. I do, and I have no regrets about it. I’m there for anyone who needs me. And when they leave, I’m left behind with my own problems and no one to turn to.

My husband needs a kidney. He goes to dialysis three times a week and he’s usually sick. We’re trying to sell our house and we are having a hell of a time clearing it out because I work all week and weekends and hubs needs to clean it, but go back to the previous sentences: he’s constantly feeling sick. My kids are a handful. They’re fun. They want to play. And we play with them, but we’re tired too. And did I mention hubs can’t work? Yeah. Guess who’s carrying the entire family on her back?

Look, I’m not complaining. Life really is good. Last night, my husband and I spent two hours in our bedroom singing and dancing to 90′s hits. We laughed, we sang, we had a great time. My babies are active and amazing little boys who just want to be kids and I love that. I have some support from my family, but family is family, and many family members try to find a fault in what we do, whether they mean to or not. I have a job. It’s a tiring job, but I enjoy it.

What I am doing is venting because in the past three-four weeks, no one has asked me if I’m okay, here or in RL. One person from my tumblr family has, but she was going through her own personal hell and she didn’t need my bs. Everyone else who throws a generic “how are you?” will get cheerful me because I don’t want to be a burden on people. But sometimes, we get tired and fuck it, i’m venting.

My first answer is correct. Life is fine. It is hard and I’m chugging along with a smile, but what more can we do but make the best of it, right? I’ll be okay. I just need a hug once in a while.

Thank you, love.

@adorablestitch

11 notes · View notes

gabolange · 3 years

Note

For the fanfic meme: 5, 8, 9, 16

For the new year fanfic meme!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

I don't actually have any active WIPs at the moment. I have a couple good ideas, but they are still in the percolating phase. Hoping to have time to actually write them down soon! (But if I did have a WIP, I wouldn't post a snippet. Sharing too early scares the story and it runs away and I get very sad. It's complicated, and my beta is a saint. But the *fandoms* are Wheel of Time (you know the pairing) and Leverage (and you definitely don't).)

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

Oh, if I could, I would write the big B5 AU where John stays dead at Z'ha'dum. Like, I know what happens to the Drakh (obviously this is key). I know what happens to Susan. I really know what happens to Delenn. I'm still figuring out what happens to Ul'kesh, which is obviously the thing keeping me from writing this down. And so is the part where it would be...tens of thousands of words where my longest published story is 23K. And would require a lot of plot, which is...um. Who writes plot? So IDK. Maybe 2022 is the year. Never say never.

9. Short term goals… what do you hope to complete this week or in January?

Things are very busy in RL, so I mostly am hoping to survive January. But it would be nice to at least start drafting one of my stories. WoT first, because Moiraine has IDEAS.

16. Do you have that one fanfic that you wrote a ton for, ages ago, but never posted? Will this be the year, come hell or high water, that it WILL get finished and posted?

So, funny story. Last year, I published my one big unfinished story: fly away and see the world is this big, unfinished wandering outside POV story for John & Delenn that I started in 2007 and...then put down and got distracted with everything that came next. Then Mira Furlan died last January (oh god) and I didn't know yet that I would spend the entire year watching B5 and writing B5 and talking about B5 to anyone who would listen (which is, amazingly, a list that is getting longer--I love you guys). So...I published the story out of love and in memory and with the barest of a does-this-not-suck? read from my beta.

And it doesn't suck, and folks really like it, and I am utterly charmed that my most popular story of 2021 doesn’t have an ending and was written in 2007, by a great young writer. But I grew up and my style has changed a lot since then, so I don't think I'll ever finish that story. It rests exactly as it is meant to.

BUT. I connived to have Susan Ivanova show up specifically so outside POV Elizabeth Sheridan could have a different foil, and sometimes I think about writing just the conversation that was all meant to set up. It's about what it means to live through things no one else understands, and keeping secrets you don't want to know, and what it means to be family.

Maybe. We shall see.

Ask me more!

#writing #meme #babylon 5 #fanfic

1 note · View note

sherlockmonkeesstartrek · 6 years

Note

Hi there! Read your post, and GOD! After years of reading fanfiction about any fandom but The Hollies, you are like a dream come true! But sadly, I'm the least creative person, and I wouldn't know what to ask! Yep, my fav is Tony, and I love the second and third lineup (Tony, Allan and Bobby with Bern, Graham or Terry). If I imagine some smut, it would be some angry sex between Tony and Graham, even though they never clashed that much in RL. (1/2)

Hiii! I’ve seen your blog before and can I just say how much I love it

Anyways, I am totally digging that Tony/Graham hate fuck, so I wrote a little (6000 word) fic about them. I kinda got carried away, sorry XD So yeah, I haven’t read over it and I’ve never really written all that much about Tony before, so I just keep that in mine. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy;

“Did you just,” Graham laughed, turning to look at the other boys in the studio as though for back up despite being well aware before even regarding their disapproving expressions that he was looking to the wrong people for help. Really, these comments were only to make light of the situation for himself, “Did you just see that? My god.” He turned back to where he’d just watched one of his bandmates storm out and sighed. “Tony Hicks. Who knew?”

Well, it seemed they all knew. They knew from the moment Tony started raising his voice, a odd spectacle for such a quiet young man, that he was capable of as much of a dramatic and aggressive exit as any one of the boys had managed before. Just because he stayed out of fights, stayed away from drama, didn’t mean he was totally incapable of getting involved. And the thing was, this wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t got into a fight, he didn’t instigate it. If anything, he was being patient for a good time longer than the other boys could. And when he did eventually snap, everyone agreed that he was totally valid in doing so.

Even the guy who started it, the very man who marvelled at the reaction in its aftermath. Graham had to admit he kind of went over the top on that one. He didn’t mean to start an argument. He just seemed to spark them by accident, and he wasn’t the type to back down on anything, even if it was better off if he did for his own benefit.

Still, he’d fucked up, what could he do now?

He shrugged off the negativity in the atmosphere and turned his attentions to finding his guitar. Where had he put it down?

“Guys, have you seen my pick?”

Not a peep sounded from his remaining bandmates. Casually, the rhythm guitarist looked up. He’d practically forgotten the fight in about two seconds of distraction. Apparently, it wasn’t so easy for the others, mostly because they had no interest in forgetting.

“What was all that about?” Allan was first to speak. He’d clashed with Graham many a time throughout the years, so wasn’t afraid to do so now. In fact, he felt inclined to do so to defend his mate and let his discontent be known to the perpetrator.

“What? Oh, the thing… nothing.” Graham muttered. He was outnumbered. Even he wasn’t on his own side about this. That was why he was so quick to try and ignore it. He’d done wrong. Something pretty fucking wrong. There was no reason to go off of Tony like that, yet he’d done it and… well… the not backing down thing, the trait that would get him killed if he wasn’t careful. He could see the headlines ‘English musician mauled by bandmates.’ What a way to go.

“Sure sounded like nothing.”

“Well, it was. He overreacted.” Ok, he didn’t even believe what he was saying, never mind whether Allan did, or Bobby or Bern. Basically, he was losing a war he’d inadvertently started with that minor battle, and that was pissing him off.

“Yeah?” Allan stepped forward, challengingly.

Graham ground his teeth, standing up to the challenge, “Well what do you want me to do about it now? Hu? Go and kiss him and make up so we can play some shit on another record we didn’t write. Oh sure.”

Apparently, kissing was a bit too much, but making up was exactly what Allan wanted. Graham sighed, frustrated as he turned to the door. He felt like a kid being told off by his parents, made to go and apologise to an annoying brother for aggravating him. Since when had Allan been so damn uptight? Oh yeah, since forever. Since he’d settled down with Jen. Even before that, in fact. He was suddenly so worried about what kind of music the band should be making or how much work they were all putting in or bullshit like that. Making music often isn’t something you can plan. It should be fun and exciting and…

…this had nothing to do with the argument. It seemed like Tony wasn’t the only one with a lot of pent up frustration. Graham rationalised that perhaps the guitarist should be thanking him. After all, it's not good for people to keep things bottled up without letting it out once in a while. And Tony constantly seemed so cool and calm, either he was getting it all out with some great sex every night, or he wasn’t getting it out at all. If the former was true, at least he was saving Tony’s chick from having a right good fucking tonight.

Actually, that was regrettable, depending on how you look at it. And as Graham wandered down the corridors, trying to find his bandmate, he found himself considering it from every angle. If he was Tony’s girl, he’d be a bit put out if she wasn’t getting anything out of him. He was handsome guy. It was the eyes, the slightly hooded, striking blue eyes. That was the first thing Graham thought of when he thought of Tony, the first thing he could imagine girls noticed. It was the first thing he noticed when he met the boy way back when. Though he may’ve grown into his ever youthful looks, his ears now were the right size for the rest of his face- or at least covered by a thick mass of fair hair curling down his neck- and he’d ditched the overly skinny look for a little more filled out and muscular, his eyes remained very much the same, as stunning and bright as they always had been.

What was Graham doing thinking like this of his mate? He laughed at himself, shaking the thought from his mind. He only had to apologize to the guy to get him back in the studio so they could finish a recording, not flatter him with complements of his eyes. Not only would that be really weird, but it wouldn’t work. Either Tony would think Graham was taking the piss or he’d get all shy. It was strange that such a handsome, sought-after boy like Tony was not used to receiving compliments.

He was doing it again, thinking about him like that. It would make it damned hard for him to face the boy if his mind was in other places.

Well not too hard. As soon as he caught sight of Tony in the loos, a cheekiness came over him, the same one that had persuaded him to go over the top on the little disagreement not ten minutes ago. He sauntered into the room and leant up against the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest, one foot balancing on its toes beside the other, an expectant smile gazing at the guitarist who was washing his hands quite quietly. There was a bit of aggression in his actions. Graham didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony quite like this, letting something bother him to the point that his actions were affected. He wrung his hands beneath the water hard enough to turn his slightly tanned skin red and pressed the soap dispenser violently, causing the clear liquid to shot out and spray half on his cupped palm, half on the sink beside him. He then, after rinsing, pulled way too much tissue from the dispenser and threw the scrunched up, soggy ball in the bin with such force it popped back out, settling on the floor.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you you should pick up after yourself?” Graham laughed, gesturing to the bin as Tony pivoted on his heels. He did not seem at all startled by the rhythm guitarist’s presence. In fact, perhaps he did already know that he was in there, hence the aggression in his actions and the casual way he regarded Graham as he leant back against the sink, his lips pressed into a hard, white line. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge Graham’s little comment. He just stood there, glaring.

“Come on, are you really going to be mad at me over this?” Graham sighed, bored of this already. He was also really starting to get bored of the silence treatment. It grated on him. He waited for a reply. None came.

His voice took a more impatient tone when he opened his mouth again. “Look, I’m meant to apologise to you, so let’s just forget about this shit so we can keep recording and you can hate me afterwards, ok?”

The expression on Tony’s face changed, which Graham saw as a positive. At the very least it might be an indication that he might start talking and he was right.. It just wasn’t the response Graham had been hoping for.

“No, fuck you. You always seem to just bypass apologising, like you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Graham swore he didn’t mean to, but habitually rolled his eyes, which Tony obviously didn’t take well. He didn’t get angrier as such. He, if anything, looked disappointed. He had that ‘why do I bother’ look in his eyes, while which, in turn, irritated Graham to the point that had he been considering a proper apology, it was now definitely off the table.

“Mate, are you serious? All I did was disagree with you.” He said, any friendly tone now dropped completely.

“You fucking disagree with everyone.” Tony retorted.

“So you shouldn’t be taking it so fucking personally.”

“I’m not. I’m mad for everyone. I don’t know what the hell has got into you, whether it's fame or something, but you’re bloody unbearable at the moment, and the other guys can sit back and take it, but I’m not going to.”

“No?” Graham was now laughing at the younger man, amused by the determination to stand up to him. He thought it cute, and knew that would annoy Tony.

That, coupled with patronising him, and Graham knew he was heading to a breaking point. He wanted to see how far he could push his mate, since he was already in so deep.

“What are you going to do?”

Tony glared at his so-called friend intensely. His blood boiled in his veins, mostly those in his clenched fists that longed to slug the rhythm guitarist in the jaw. Oh, but he couldn’t, could he? It would make for bad press, unease in the group, which was the last thing they needed. Then again, there was a chance the fight would be settled with that one swing. Graham would know not to mess with Tony, he might learn a lesson or two about irritating the rest of the band and Tony would get out all the anger on his bandmate. When he thought like that, it was just too damn tempting. Not to mention that Graham, as he looked down and saw Tony’s skilled fingers curled into fists, practically asked for it.

“Are you going to punch me? Oh that I have to see!”

Well, he didn’t want to disappoint. Allowing all the anger he usually let go of build up, he jolted violently up, stalked towards the older man standing by the door and let the knuckles of his powerful right hand make contact with Graham’s cheek. Immediately, the rhythm guitarist stumbled sideways, one hand reaching to stop himself from falling, the other grasping his bruised cheekbone. When he steadied, he shot a wild look up at Tony, planning his revenge.

While Tony did feel pretty sorry, he wasn’t going to say it. It wasn’t he who owed an apology. The only reason he was considering it in that moment was because he didn’t really want to get into a fist fight, which seemed the way this was going, judging by the look in Graham’s pale blue eyes. Still, he stood his ground, waiting for Graham’s move.

Which turned out to be an attack, heading straight for the boy’s wrists. He wasn’t interested in hurting Tony. No, he was going to pin him down, make him beg for an apology. Once he had hold of one of Tony’s wrists, he spun him around, bending the arm up his back, applying enough pressure to have him totally under his control, then guided him to the sink area where he bent the kid over. A short hiss escaped Tony’s mouth as he pushed against Graham, writhed under his control. Graham wasn’t that much stronger than him, he just had the upper hand at that moment, in a position that made it near enough impossible to fight against.

This was also quite a compromising position. Even Graham had to admit he didn’t really want to be caught by anyone like this. For all the strength he possessed in that moment, his crotch was pressed against Tony’s butt, he had the boy literally bent over under him. No wonder why Tony struggled. But Graham was not going to let him up, not for anything.

He laughed evilly, “What’s the matter down there?”

“Get off!!! Graham, get the fuck off me!!!”

God, this gave Graham such a rush of power. He ignored how weird the moment looked in favour of bending right over and hovering his lips over Tony’s ear.

He caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sinks. The oddest feeling waved through him that he refused to address. He shook his mind clean for a moment to say, “Is there something you want?”

“Get the fuck off me!!!” Tony yelled. It echoed around the room, followed by a low chuckle from Graham’s throat that had the younger boy struggling once more in anger.

“I thought you wanted an apology.” Graham teased, “You can’t be greedy and have both.”

“FUCK OFF!”

Tony lifted his head slightly, enough to also see the mirror. He looked so stupidly helpless under the weight of his friend, now baring down on his back. He met Graham’s gaze, gave him a filthy look until he noticed something. He saw a flicker of something in his pale blue irises. He’d seen it a few times before, most notably the time they’d all gone to that club with that belly dancer, the one they all had a crush on. Well, a crush was putting it nicely. They all wanted to fuck her. Graham was looking at him with a glare that would’ve been quite threatening and annoying- due to the cheeky smile on his lips- had he not also got that sparkle, that wanting gaze.

Did Graham want to fuck him?

“Oh my god…” Tony chuckled, turning his head downwards towards the space between sinks that thankfully wasn’t wet or dirty. Graham had been kind in where he’d pinned him down.

“What?” Graham demanded. He didn’t much like the feeling of loss of power that Tony’s laughter provided him.

Still giggling, Tony peered up a little.

“Are you turned on right now?”

“The fuck? Of course not!”

“I think you are, you fucking creep.”

Graham felt his cheeks flush. No way he was turned on. No way. Not even if he’d already kind of seen the excitement when he’d glimpsed the mirror. Nope. He’d deny it. He’d keep on denying it.

And he certainly wasn’t going to let Tony see the sudden colour in his cheeks. When the guitarist attempted to look in the mirror again, Graham snaked his fingers around his neck and twisted his head back to one side, resting on the surface.

“Listen, you’re the creep for even thinking that. Now, you wanted something, didn’t you?” He tried to regain the atmosphere from before. Both the boys were mad, and Graham was in control. He had Tony right where he wanted him and… ok so it might’ve turned him on a little bit, but at least in that moment Tony didn’t know.

He heard Tony make a breathy gasp. The position for him was awkward, but he was in no way screaming for oxygen. He barely even fought anymore. The smile on his lips, though, had faded in favour of a more frustrated expression.

“Yeah,” The boy said through gritted teeth, “I wanted you to get the fuck up, because you’re enjoying yourself too much.”

Graham ignored the indication of his pleasure in the position.

“Why don’t you ask me nicely?” He suggested.

Tony hid a smirk.

“And here I was thinking you were going to make me beg for it.”

Something, the same thing that had lit Graham’s eyes and coloured his cheeks, stirred within him again. He stared down at Tony, wondering what his next move should be.

He decided not to give the boy the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Or at least, he wasn’t going to get defensive. He wasn’t going to deny anything anymore, not outright.

“Alright, that seems like a good idea. Beg for me to get off you.”

Oh yes. That had Tony hesitating. It was a moment before he piped up.

“Are you serious?” He laughed.

In a low voice, Graham replied, “Deadly.”

“Fuck off.”

“I don’t hear any begging. I guess you like this, you like being bent over, do you?”

Fuck! Tony struggled once more, annoyed that Graham had somehow flipped this situation on its head, yet again. Not only did he have full power over his body, keeping him firmly against the sink, but he also had power because there was no way Tony was going to beg. He wasn’t a dog or a child and he certainly did not take orders from someone like Graham.

But what choice did he have?

“You can’t be fucking serious!”

“I told you, I am.” Graham chuckled. He decided he was going to have all the fun he wanted in that moment, letting loose a lodged phrase he’d been wanting to say as he waited for Tony to retort. “And since I am actually enjoying this, I might as well take advantage of it.”

Tony... didn’t get it. He was totally confused, thrown off by Graham’s admission. He really didn’t know how to reply. He really didn’t know how he felt about the whole situation anymore. He just knew that his neck was starting to hurt like this.

He tried to arch it away from the sink, only to have Graham push him back down, smothering him further into the countertop.

“Plea-“ Tony gasped. For a moment, he was about to beg. And in that moment, after hearing a small chuckle escape Graham’s lips, the fingers around his neck loosened. He was given a little leeway to move. Humiliated, he shut his eyes. Could he really do this? Could he really beg his friend for anything, a guy who he was still mad at, who he would happily kick in the balls if his legs weren’t pressed up against the back of his thighs? No, no he couldn’t.

Graham was beginning to enjoy the power again. Perhaps a little too much. But he’d half admitted as much, so he didn’t really care. He ignored the distinct feeling of swelling down south- he didn’t press himself too hard into Tony in case he could feel it- and instead directed his energies to thinking of something to say next, something evil, something that would really piss Tony off. Because it got him off, for some reason. Just the idea of the kid so helpless under him, conflicted as to whether he should humiliate himself or not, allow the older man to manipulate him or not.

He leant down again, hovering his mouth over Tony’s ear, the soft, fair hairs whispering against the curve of cartilage tickling his lips. Tony could feel his hot breath hit his skin. He cringed as he felt Graham laugh.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Tony muttered.

“I think you did.” Graham laughed, “Go on, you can do it and I’ll let you up.”

Not a peep escaped Tony’s throat for a whole minute as they stood in that position, so Graham decided to make it worse for him.

Since he’d first bent down and whispered in the guitarist’s ear, he’d got the urge to do it. The back of his ear looked so enticing. It was stupid and weird, but it wasn’t the only thing in the situation that fitted that description. There was a small sensation of this being a step further, but Graham had lost the ability to really stop himself, just as he had in the argument. He succumbed to the temptation and stuck out his tongue.

Tony felt a more humid breath against his skin, following a wet slap that sounded almost like a kiss being broken. Having no idea what was going on, his mind drew blanks until he felt it; Graham’s tongue dragged against the back of his ear, right at the tip of it.

And Tony found himself sighing involuntarily. He caught himself, eyes shooting open, body tensing, but the damage was done, Graham had heard it. If he could not tell by the way the rhythm guitarist abruptly paused, then he could by the chuckle rumbling low in Graham’s chest.

The older man, after his hesitation, completed the lick before closing his mouth and reopening it again. Suddenly, he had plenty of things to say.

“Now, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you enjoyed that.”

Tony had no reply.

“And you called me the creep.”

The younger man let his jaw fall slack, ready to reply, but the older man beat him to it.

“You’re a very bad boy, Tony Hicks.”

“Don’t say things like that!” He snapped back. His vigour, however, was beaten by the chuckles vibrating through his bandmate’s body. Did he ever stop laughing? Boy did Graham know how to piss people off. Tony wouldn’t be surprised to learn if that was the first thing Graham looked for when he met people, a way to really get right on their nerves.

“Well, you shouldn’t have moaned.” Graham warned, letting his lips fall a little closer to Tony’s skin, rather than his tongue this time, “Would you like me to do it again?”

And this time, even though given an option, Tony could not think up an answer. He should’ve said a definitive ‘no.’

That is, if that was what he wanted.

Suddenly, the conflict in the boy’s mind was still fixated on whether he should submit to his bandmate, only in a very different way, and with a very different answer he found himself reaching.

Without a reply, which Graham found annoying- he really hated being ignored- he let his lips close around Tony’s ear, kissing him this time before running his tongue over the flesh. Tony tried really hard not to enjoy it, but it’s pretty hard when such an act coaxed feelings like the pleasurable shiver rushing directly to his spine. His body tensed, though this time not out of discomfort. It was due to the beginnings of a tight pleasure pooling below his stomach. It seemed that, inside him, his boiling blood and flashes of red behind his eyes were starting to convert into a different kind of frustration than he’d felt previously towards Graham. Instead of the desperate want to punch him in the face, he really wanted to pin him down on the floor and have his way with him.

He’d never thought such a thing about a guy before, but in that moment, gender wasn’t a concern of his, certainly not to the part of his body responsible for his thinking.

Graham seemed to be taken over by the same appendage, as he began kissing down Tony’s neck, moving his hand out the way, and Tony’s hair, to reach the hot, slender parts of his skin. His hands, now free, ran down the boy’s torso until they reached his hips, which they grabbed with considerable force. He dug his nails in tight to the thick layers of fabric Tony was clad in, in hope of feeling his skin, his flesh, his bones beneath.

“Are you sure you want me to get up?” He giggled lightly between kisses. He was not going to give up teasing his bandmate for anything, and that was a fact. He’d gotten off on irritating him, he’d relished his humiliation, why stop now when things were just getting interesting.

Of course, Tony saw it as an annoyance, but that was exactly what Graham wanted it to be.

“Will you just shut up for a minute?”

“Oh, of course not!” He breathed, “I want it known that you got off on me bending you over and…”

Tony realised that Graham had gotten complacent in his pleasure. Despite the grasp he had on Tony’s hips, he no longer had the good positioning that gave him all his strength. In one swift movement, Tony twisted around under him and pushed him towards the wall. As Graham attempted to recover, Tony lurched at him and pushed his whole body up against him. His hands sought out Graham’s, pinning them to the wall either side of his head. Now he could see the light in the older man’s eyes, the desire he’d only glimpsed, the damaged he’d actually done to the left side of his face. It was already bruising. Hmm, they’d have to explain that to the media, those that saw them as good, clean boys, not the types who got into fights.

Tony doubted they’d see them as the types who liked other boys either, so perhaps a black eye was the least of their worries. He suddenly thought of the unlocked bathroom door, the studio that lay beyond it, and the one room where three friends, no doubt concerned about them, were and may not remain. There was any number of people who could walk in at the worst moment and see what they really shouldn’t.

But… if he went to lock the door, he’d lose his power over Graham, and boy had he been waiting pretty much the whole day- if not since he’d met the guy- for a chance like this.

He looked Graham in the twinkling eyes. The rhythm guitarist was waiting, waiting for a next move, aching for it. His stare was challenging, encouraging Tony to do something, anything, so the boy decided to risk everything to keep his position. He glared at Graham, thinking ‘you’ve no idea what we’re risking for this.’

His move, he decided, was to slide both his hands up, with Graham’s in their grasp, and hold them over Graham’s head. He found a way to keep both wrists pinned to the wall in just one hand, so the other could travel down his bandmate’s aching torso, down experimentally towards the waistband of his trousers. He looked so unsure. Graham did too, but his mind was now set on this moment. He needed this, he needed a release for his frustration and believed Tony could benefit from it too.

“I want this.” He whispered encouragingly. Never before had he ever so explicitly given consent, never had he previously had to, but it felt right in this situation, one neither he nor his friend had been in before. It struck a little confidence into Tony, evidenced by the quickening of his movements. He spread his hand over Graham’s hardness and lightly applied pressure. Graham gasped, to which Tony wanted to administer a little of Graham’s own medicine to him. He chuckled.

“Enjoying this, are we?”

Graham’s eyes met his.

“Now you can’t deny that you’re not.”

The younger boy shrugged, slowly removing his hand, much to Graham’s displeasure.

“I’m going to enjoy it a lot more in a minute.”

Curious, the older man watched. He wasn’t sure what part of his friend he should keep his eyes on; his face, his wandering hands, his torso, his… trousers. Eventually, though, the most interesting part was his hands, the one that lingered between both their crotches before turning upwards towards it’s owner’s waistband and those skilled, guitar-playing fingers hooked around the zipper of his trousers. He watched as Tony pulled down his fly and palmed himself through his boxers, straining handsomely against a thick bulge within them. He watched as Tony got off, pleasured himself, leaving Graham practically totally untouched, straining himself under far too many layers of clothing. The older man whimpered.

“This isn’t fair.”

With half shut eyes and a blissful smile on his face, Tony asked, “What isn’t?”

“I was winning. You’re a fucking dick. I had you…”

“Oh, but you wanted me so bad, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Graham recognised his own tactics. Oh, they were cruel. He smirked to himself, almost as a pat on the back for being so goddamned smart. If only he could just work out a way to tip the tables again in his favour.

In fact, he didn’t care much about being in power, he just wanted not to be left out. He wanted to be touched. He’d happily beg, though he’d never say as much voluntarily.

“Fuck, look at you!” Tony continued. Graham could see more bliss, more pleasure building up tight within the guitarist. It was quite a sight, a view that cause want to simmer below his stomach. He recognised the pleasure that Tony was affording himself and wanted some for himself. “Quiet for the first time today. If it wasn’t so illegal, I’d do this everyday to shut you up.”

Graham’s voice came out as a half strangled moan when he tried to speak.

However, he did managed to say, “You’d do it because you fucking love me, admit it.”

“I love it when you’re not pissing everyone else off.”

“You love me when I’m not pissing everyone off.”

“I like the peace and quiet.”

“I…” He gasped loudly, “…really just want to come. Tony, come on!”

Tony grinned. He stared at Graham, making his own pleasure more obvious with rolls of his blue eyes and bites of his kissable lips. He even took it to the next step, pulling himself totally out of the boxers hanging loose on his hips and tugged hard, in full view of his friend. If a high level of adrenaline, caused by frustration and desire, had not been coursing through his veins, he probably would’ve felt more than a bit embarrassed and self-conscious under Graham’s watchful gaze, but his levels of confidence were soaring. He was coaxed on by Graham’s words too, as humiliating and embarrassing as getting your dick out in front of a mate was.

“Don’t… come on, I’m aching. Tony…”

“If you don’t beg,” Tony wickedly said, “You don’t get.”

To his surprise, it seemed a lot easier for Graham to stoop to that level of indignity than it had been for him.

“Ok, please Tony will you touch me. Or let me touch myself. I don’t fucking care anymore.”

“No?” Tony gasped, now unable to control his tone, “That’s disappointing, I thought you loved me. I though you wanted me.”

“Alright, alright, I want you, you fucker. Please, I want you to touch me.”

“If I move my hand, are you going to overpower me?”

Graham was not lying when he replied, “No.” And Tony could tell. It was probably the most genuine thing he’d said all day. So, if a little gingerly, the guitarist removed his hand from Graham’s wrists and feathered it down his body. Helpfully, Graham’s shot down to his fly and ripped it open. He groaned as Tony’s hand wrapped around him.

Oh, it was way better to have someone else do that rather than his own hand, Graham decided. Just the unfamiliar touch was enough to improve it, but there was so much more going on. Namely, the fact that Tony had an idea of what he was doing. Graham was sure he could make many a joke about that, like that Tony wasn’t really so much of a ladies’ man as he was a ‘right hand’ man, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the mood, by cracking some awful, distasteful and mocking joke unless, like the jokes about loving one another, both of them would know they were merely in good fun. There was also the forbidden aspect that made it all the more exciting. It had not slipped Graham’s mind that the bathroom door was open and he was well aware of all the shit they could get into, least of all the prison sentences they could receive should something like this get out. But, instead of scaring them shitless enough to do something about it or stop, it enticed at least Graham to continue.

And he knew it would not take long. He’d been aching at the most innocent of acts. By the time Tony had his hand pumping at his dick, he was further than half way close to climax.

So, it came of no surprise to him that he was first to come. He spilled over Tony’s hand, moaning with his head tossed back against the wall. He thrust up into Tony’s hand until the shockwaves of pleasure ceased. Then he looked down at the younger man, simpering.

Tony gave him a dirty look back.

“It’s not a fucking race.” He breathlessly snapped, “It’s not good that you were first.”

Graham nodded, “I know. I was actually glad, because now I can do this.”

He reached out and clasped his own, capable fingers around the base of Tony’s dick and followed the boy’s movements until he let him do it on his own. It seemed Tony had the same thought as Graham; it really was better done by someone else. A fact he well knew from all the chicks he’d had, but when directly compared to himself, and faced with someone who knew what they were doing, oh it was perfect. A few short minutes later and he’d dirtied Graham’s hands. Thankfully, as both the boys did check, they’d managed not to get anything on their clothes, save perhaps for some water from the counter and the sinks.

Breathlessly, the two boys regarded one another. They grinned stupidly, disbelievingly, not knowing what to say next. What was the protocol here? There wasn’t even one. All they could do was go back to how they always were. Nothing had changed.

“So…” Tony’s voice echoed around the room. After all that noise, the sudden lull in that bathroom was both too much for the boys, and not enough. They wanted to talk, to fill the empty space, but really didn’t, because it would mean addressing what had just happened.

Graham decided to go about that in an indirect manner by, once he’d tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped himself back up, nipping across the room to the tissue dispenser. He brought two bundles of tissues back with him, one for himself, the other for Tony. With that minor distraction, they found their voices.

“…friends?”

“We always were.” Graham replied, “I know I’m pretty overbearing and all…”

“You can say that again.”

“Fuck off. I’m trying to… apologise.”

“Does that mean we have to go back and record a song now?”

They both looked pretty helplessly towards the door, nodding as though to answer the question for themselves.

“So…” Tony repeated, “Do you want to go first… or… or I can…”

“Nah,” Graham waved that idea away, “We’re mates again. We go back together.”

“Ok…”

Neither made a start to the door for a moment. Tony pretended he was making sure there was no more evidence of their ‘time’ in the bathroom, while Graham chuckled to himself to get over the whole situation. Then, as though they’d agreed, they strode together out of the bathroom, into the corridor of the studio, which remained quiet. They silently made for their studio, keeping their eyes forward, their hands in their pockets, undistinguishable expressions on their slightly flushed faces.

They then walked into the room where their three friends were sitting almost in wait of them. Allan stood up immediately, waiting for a verdict as to whether they’d made up or not.

Tony opened his mouth, “He’s a fucking dick.” He announced, though that was not news to anyone. What was a slight surprise, though, was the smile on his face as he walked off to grab his guitar, and the one stretching Graham’s lips as his watched him.

“Yeah, but you all love me.” He insisted.

2 notes · View notes

youcouldmakealife · 7 years

Text

PSOTW: David, Jake; draft days

For the prompt: David and Jake and the poor other prospects doing the top prospect stuff before the draft

Major difference between RL hockey and YCMAL ‘verse: Edmonton picks a defenceman!!!!

Shea doesn’t know who are worse, the interviewers that pretend he has a hope in hell at going first or second, or the ones who make it clear they know it’s going to be Jake and Chapman as the top two and then spend their time peppering the two of them with questions so him and the others are left twiddling their thumbs, maybe getting some ‘oh shit we have to ask everyone something’ quick question at the end.

Jake is a pretty cool dude, friendly, reminds Shea of like half his team, and five minutes after meeting him Shea starts feeling comfortable just shooting the shit with him. It’s kind of awkward, the situation, the way he knows that Jake is going to go ahead of him, the way it’s crystal clear, from the media to the teams themselves, his interviews with the Panthers and the Islanders kind of short, distracted, like they have to do it but all of them know they’re not taking him if they have a chance with Jake or Chapman. The one with Oilers is different, like they actually give a shit, care what he has to say, but he bets if by some miracle Jake or Chapman was still available by third pick they’d be snatching them up in a heartbeat.

Shea knows Chapman from U18, though Chapman got hauled up to play U20 this year, but he doesn’t really know the guy. Chapman’s quiet. Sullen, Shea would go with, because it’s not just quiet. Shea’s teammates call him quiet, even though he isn’t, really, just in comparison to all those loudmouths. Chapman’s never been friendly, but it’s on hyperdrive here, the ultimate in unfriendliness. Cory played with them both too, and Shea’s relieved he’s there. Cory’s great, except when Shea has to play against him. Then Shea guesses he’s extra great, which is why Shea hates playing him. They band together, through those awkward interviews, because Chapman gives out this whole awkward aura, and Jake keeps getting tripped up by it, keeps trying and failing to have a conversation with him.

Shea’s relieved when it’s over, honestly. The interviews from the media and the teams, the cameras, everything. Though technically it’s just started. His mom is gripping his hand so hard it hurts when they start the draft. He’s pretty sure he’s gripping back hard enough to hurt her too.

Jake goes first, which is a surprise for the media, but not for Shea, not with the way Jake is versus Chapman. Appearances matter, all that, and if you’ve got the choice of two ballin’ players, maybe pick the one who doesn’t suck the air out of the room. Chapman’s second, again no surprise, though Shea does feel a little disappointed, even though it’s stupid.

Cory goes to the Oilers, which stings more than the first two, by far, because Shea was projected third, and he knows none of that’s set in stone or anything, but still. At least it’s a different position — well, he’s centre to Lourdes’ and Chapman’s spots on the wings, but if you need a defenceman, you need a defenceman. Shea only slips one place, to Kansas City, and he would have preferred Edmonton, because Alberta’s a whole lot closer to Manitoba than Missouri is, more familiar, but he can’t complain. Fourth overall. He can’t complain.

“That was the most awkward shit in my life,” Cory whispers to him at the impromptu after party. No one’s listening, Shea doesn’t know why he’s whispering.

“What, the draft?” Shea asks. It ended up being even more nerve-wracking than he thought it would be, being used to attention on that level, but not when he’s wearing shoes instead of skates.

“Nah, the photos after?” Cory says. “Like holy shit, I’m pretty sure Chapman’s going to kill Lourdes by the end of the night.”

Shea looks around. Chapman’s nowhere to be seen, but Jake is laughing with… Shea thinks his name’s Dineen, bottle of Bud in his hand. “Looks alive to me.”

“Night’s still young,” Cory says darkly.

#fic snippet #david chapman #jake lourdes #PSOTW

67 notes · View notes

halekingsourwolf · 7 years

Note

This is one of the reasons I'm always conflicted about leaving comments on WIPs if I can't do it on anon (which seems to be becoming more common with many writers I read, totally understandably). I always see authors saying how comments on WIPs are great for inspiring them to continue working on their next chapters, but I always feel like, what if I stop liking the story? I have a bunch of squicks and dislikes that prevent me from reading certain tropes and characters so it's not uncommon for me

to stop in the middle of a fic I otherwise loved. And I would never leave a comment telling an author that I don’t like the direction a story is going in because I think that’s rude, but I also feel like if you’ve been leaving a detailed comment on every chapter and then you suddenly just stop. I feel like as an author that would bother me almost as much as getting a comment telling me what they don’t like, because then I would just be wondering where I went wrong and why they stopped reading.

I totally get that concern, anon. WIPs can be tricky, especially for people like us who can be really turned off by little things, because WIPs –– especially ones that aren’t prewritten –– generally don’t have all tropes/characters/ships listed from the start. (And this goes for my WIPs as well; I definitely do not plan ahead and I don’t tend to hyper-tag anyway.)

That said, speaking as a writer, if I see someone stop commenting partway through a story it’s not something I would take personally. I’d probably just assume they got too busy/distracted with RL stuff or have other things going on.

And even if I thought “maybe they don’t like this latest chapter,” it would still be a lot less discouraging to me personally to receive nothing than to get a comment confirming that, yep, X choice I made in this latest installment is something that upsets Y reader enough to leave. Because then every time I read it over or write a follow up to that plot point, I’m just going to be thinking ‘oh, that’s the thing Y person hates,’ you know?

Of course every situation is different (and every person is different), and if it’s something where like… I have a reader who comments religiously on every chapter of every story I’ve ever done, or if I have a friend who’s reading my story and then just suddenly stops or something like that, then them messaging me privately just to say “hey friend, just noticed your story’s going to feature Jydia (or whatever) and that particular ship just squicks me, so I think I’m gonna have to pass on the rest of the story. Good luck with it, though, the plot sounds amazing!” then that’s great. No hard feelings, I now know where my friend went, I know it’s nothing personal against me or my story. But at the same time, if a stranger posts a comment to say “Ok, so I was enjoying this fic a lot until you decided to include Jydia. That ship squicks me out, so I don’t think I’ll be finishing this story” it’s just a completely different vibe, and that’s something that, for me anyway, would irk me a lot.

I guess it’s down to a level of familiarity, like a lot of things are. A friend can tell you if the shade of lipstick you’re wearing doesn’t work on you, but if a stranger does it, it’s insulting. If a friend (or possibly longtime reader who’s always there commenting so you have some sort of camaraderie with them) says “hey, just not feeling this one but ilu and I’ll be here for the next one” then I’m like k, thanks for the heads up. Because we have a relationship outside that comment, you know? But if someone I don’t know writes a message just to say what they don’t like, that’s like someone crossing the street just to tell me my clothes are ugly and I’m like… ok, then just keep walking? You don’t have to look at me? Are my clothes so bad that you had to go out of your way to let me know, instead of just moving on with your life?

So, like I said, it can be tricky and it’s a bit of a judgment call, but IMO if you decide to stop reading a story, in most cases the author isn’t going to mind if you just leave. That doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate your comments because I’m sure they do. I know I appreciate the hell out of every comment I receive (aside from the few “helpful” insults I get now and again). They make my day, they make posting at all worth it. But if you stop commenting they’ll probably assume you’re just busy or haven’t gotten to it; I doubt they’ll take it as an insult. (And if they’re curious about where you’ve gone, they can always message you about it and then you can explain.) But if it’s someone you’ve interacted with personally, or you really think they’ll be expecting a comment from you, that’s a different situation and messaging them to let them know might not be a bad thing.

#idk #i hope that makes sense #and other authors might have totally different views on this than i do #hks opinions #fanfic stuff #Anonymous #ask hks

5 notes · View notes

gruntadminloch-moved · 8 years

Text

((venting post tbd it’s okay i talk myself through it this is literally stream of conscious you can just watch me think myself through something if you read this which is probably hilarious but also probably very not just ignore this i’ll actually delete this unlike everything else i tag tbd i swear

whenevr i consider reblogging like a ‘give my muse a nightmare’ meme or something similarly darker like that to explore that side of Loch or just any other side of him because i’ve explored like maybe a fifth at best

I feel like “yeah well you’re too new. people don’t know enough about loch to pull that off.” (disregard that i’ve been here what a month at this point? i answered an ask about things that trigger him and also included some fears in there?? loch’s pretty simple you can also take a wild guess based on ‘he REALLY likes kissing guzma’s ass’)

(also, hey, danie, why don’t people know more about loch? because you haven’t been doing your tags dipshit! why don’t you do those? clearly you want to! anxiety?? poor attention span??? well shit can’t do much about that now can we.)

at the same time some people reblog those and get silly/funny ones or general ones so. it wouldn’t hurt to do that.

I also feel bad doing memes when i could be doing proper tags. memes just come quick and easy. but it’s not really the right way to share info about the character rather than y’know actually playing him y’know? but i also feel bad about not posting so much when i’m in a rut like this. i should stop feeling bad because everyone tells me that it’s fine and not to feel bad but i don’t /shrug

unrelated vomiting warning obvs not for me tho but that’s a delicate thing for some people but my dad’s throwing up again which is great can’t do anything about that either

can’t do anything in general lol

I’m actually getting a tag done right now!! unfortunately there are 30+ more waiting after that somet hat will probably be dropped for timing reasons but i wanna reply anyway to show that i’m still interested

just

blaah i suck /shrug

idk how i did this before idk how i was part of even ran a whole kind of indie multiverse space in the past i guess i had less on my mind and less to do i didn’t have a job i didn’t have to take care of my dad i was slightly more mentally healthy than before

just

i have so many excuses but i hate having excuses i feel like they’re never enough or they’re not well understood or just that everyone ELSE can power through their excuses wh can’t I????

(a lot of those people have meds or support systems or otherwise self that’s why. there are lots of reasons you’re you and you need to stop comparing yourself to other people it’s not HELPING it makes things WORSE and you’ve gotta stop making things worse for yourself because it just makes things harder for you)

i wonder if i’d feel better if i got things done but those things can be done whenever y’know? like the pile of laundry on my floor doesn’t feel as pressing as tags i’ve been sitting on for weeks. sure rl comes first but once i throw those in the washing machine i can just walk away and it’ll take care of itself. this is osmething i actively have to do

then again that’s the kind of logic that says it’s a priority. it’ll take five seconds. hell maybe i’ll do it now and feel like i did something. sweep up the rice i spilt on the floor earlier and feel a little better. hang up my clothes that’ve been sitting in my laundry basket for weeks and have stuff done. just the thought(or maybe the rambling) makes me feel a little less tense would you look at that

okay. i have a tag half done. i’m gonna finish it and queue it and then put some stuff in the laundry. do another(or part of another), hang up some clothes. yeah i can do that. good talk self you're gonna be fine

and y’know what once you do a few things reblog a meme or make a headcanon post or something. you’ve got this. you can earn things for yourself

feel like you’re gonna cry? that’s fine. go ahead and cry. whenever it comes. maybe listen to pikachu’s goodbye that used to make you cry all the time it might help get it out. you’re all manner of pent up and you need to pull yourself together

your arms might feel tense from restlnessness--adhd isn’t just being foregetful and distracted you get restless and angry and fidget too and you’ve been kind of still since you sat down to type. your body wants movement and activity besides using your hands and fingers. use them or flail around do some wall pushups or something. you’re gonna be fine. it’s amazing how nice it feels to talk to yourself sometimes and talk yourself through things. maybe it’s just because i know how to do that, talk through things. i just never have the time to really tell myself to do it

it’s especially nice to be able to look up from the keyboard and see it addressed to me. like. hey you. me. self. you’re gonna be alright. things’re gonna be fine. nothing in particular is the matter but everything is also the matter and that’s okay because it won’t be the matter forever!!! you just gotta work through it

thanks me. you’re not bad at that. you hear that a lot actually. you don’t mean to project that way when it comes to loch but you do. hopefully when you pick up other characters you can keep your self to yourself.

okay! enough typing!! time to get to work!!! /cutsey flexy emoji

#tbd

1 note · View note

epochxp · 3 years

Text

How to Get Miniature Gaming Mileage Out of Old Role-Playing Games!

1st Edition box cover | Amazon.co.uk

I have been a wargamer since 1983 and a role player since 1985, and the truth is, no game was as formative to my gaming “zeitgeist” as it were, as was Twilight:2000. Why is this so? Because first, the timing of the game was excellent. The Cold War was in full swing, and Ronald Reagan was hell-bent on beating the Soviets, and it seemed to many, damned the cost. With movies like Threads, The Day After, and Testament being made, it seemed NATO and the Warsaw Pact might very well come to blows.

Or at least it did to this 10-year-old growing up in Gaithersburg, MD, which is a stone’s throw from Washington DC. Maybe it was my subconscious need to make sense of it all. Maybe I wanted to play something other than sword and sandal RPGs. I just wasn’t that into that sort of thing? Well, come one day, I was reading Analog magazine, and I read a review of Twilight:2000. I was hooked. I got the game as a birthday present that next summer and collected pretty much everything that came out for the game until GDW folded up shop in 1993, but here I was, plenty of books and a fertile ground of ideas…what to do with it, right?

I was fortunate in that the game has had something of a bias towards miniatures since the beginning. In fact, a set of Twilight:2000 miniatures rules were published in Challenge Issue 25, which was GDW’s house magazine for its RPGs. (The rules had a very proto-Command Decision feel and could be its predecessor.)

US Army Vehicle Guide Cover | Amazon.com

Furthermore, the game had an official line of miniatures (by Grenadier Miniatures, long OOP), but if you look hard at convention flea markets (bring and buys to our British cousins), you’ll still find from time to time a supply of the figures usually in lots of 6 or 8 packs of figures. The miniatures themselves are a bit smallish compared to some 20mm lines (Britannia comes to mind), but they’ll fit in well with some others, like Ehliem, and they have some nice poses and sculpts.

Jason Weiser, “500 Miles..”

And if that wasn’t enough? GDW published the US Army Vehicle Guide, which had an entire section, and black and white pictorial on just how to use Roco and Roskopf vehicles with your figures (not to mention how to make conversions of some of the harder to find stuff). Dated stuff today, but the pictures are a real bit of inspiration on how a gaming table for Twilight:2000 should look.

So, this all inspired the beginnings of my blog. I’d done some stuff for Twilight:2000 before, on the late, lamented Guild Wargamers forum. (which was a real boon for all things 20mm) and I wanted to write a blog to tell those small group of souls that “Good Luck, You’re Not Alone” in this crazy subset of a subset of a hobby, and with all this Cold War Gone Hot nostalgia going around (Down in front, Team Yankee!), I thought, “perfect time for a blog, right?”

So thus, “500 Miles to the German Border” was born. I was prolific my first year and wrote a wargaming-focused analysis on everything that could be of use to the Twilight: 2000 gamer. I think my best stuff has been my writeups of the various role-playing modules as suitable miniature wargaming scenario material, but I have found my blog being quoted in a lot of places, including The Miniatures Page, and even some Twilight:2000 role-playing pages as they mine it back for ideas.

This is just my own experience, really, but honestly? There’re tons of older RPGs out there, collecting dust and not being played, but they’re chock full of ideas that await the application of your favorite miniatures rules sets(s). But the best advice I can give is the following.

Pick a single game and stick with it: It really works best this way. Focusing on Twilight: 2000 has let me do a lot with the game and let me reexamine an old favorite in a new light. I mean, I didn’t realize that Allegheny Uprising could probably take the cake as “grimmest adventure I’ve ever read”. This is especially true when you’re searching the module for miniature gaming ideas, and they’re all grim. And readers like knowing what to expect from each blog entry.

2. Be flexible: It’s more important you stick with the spirit of the game than the letter. I will admit I have had to fudge here and there (the canon color plates in the Vehicle Guides versus the RL schemes that probably would have been used in my vehicle color schemes articles is a good example).

Respect the Copyright: You’re playing in someone else’s sandbox, so be a good net citizen and don’t be posting PDFs online or such. If you must quote, use citations. And always credit photos if you can. I know that’s not always possible but get in the habit of doing so.

Listen to feedback: Sometimes, comments can really be a big help. My figure review articles, for example, have been nothing but improved due to the assistance some posters have provided (especially the 28mm article, which is a scale I know little to nothing about).

Know your audience: My audience, for example, is going to want all sorts of tutorials, news on where to get neat stuff to improve on that Twilight: 2000 look on the table, and plain inspiration anywhere you can get it. When I am not writing on a topic myself, I am recruiting contributors, and I have two part-time contributors already!

So, what does all this mean for the miniatures gamer who is looking to crack open a “dead” RPG for inspiration? Well, there’s a fertile ground out there. You’d be surprised what you can find, and honestly, a few throwaway sentences buried in an adventure can be the basis of a great scenario or two for the tabletop.

And that’s the final point, do something that makes you want to write about it. Blog writing for miniature wargaming should never be a chore. And be consistent, if not prolific, once or twice a month for a posting schedule is pretty good and will keep your fans satisfied for the most part. And do not be afraid to ask your audience occasionally what they’d like to see. You’d be surprised as to what they might come up with.

So, how is this Not Another Third World War?

As you’ve read from the sidebar, Twilight: 2000 wasn’t a game that posited the usual what I call “Soviet Sunday Drive to the Rhine.” Instead, the Warsaw Pact was on the defensive for most of the game’s background (which can make for some interesting games for all those 6mm types, as all the vehicle guides have HELPFUL information on TOEs). Also, with the end of the Cold War, there are tons of declassified materials you can mine for orders of battle, scenario ideas, and a whole host of other things. (And EpochXperience can help you with that, we’ve got a lot of archival experience!)

By the time 2000 rolls around, you have a background that has some of the bells and whistles left, but not all. What’s striking and fun is the dichotomy. Horse Cav with GPMG and ATGM, MBTs running on hooch and different uniforms even within the same unit. And you can steal ideas from Mad Max, Day After, or dare I say it? Threads? (There is a certain traffic warden that would look awesome in 20mm, and Ehliem makes a nice figure that would make a great starting point. Crooked Dice also makes him in 28mm!). All of this is a historical zeitgeist of the 1980s, where we were pretty convinced the Cold War was going to end with a bang and not a whimper. It left a big impression on my life.

Figures by Ehliem | Jason Weiser, “500 Miles…”

What’s also nice? If you like infantry heavy games? This milieu is for you. As I said before, there’s some ironmongery, but not a lot. And for the modelers? The fact there is fewer vehicles and heavy weapons means you can let your imaginations run riot and really personalize your AFVs and other vehicles, as the “gypsy caravan” look is very, very in Twilight: 2000.

So, there is a rich tapestry out there for a 35-year-old RPG and plenty of 15 and 20mm figures out there to paint up for it. Why not give it a try?

About Twilight: 2000

Twilight:2000 burst onto the scene in November 1984 in a period of high tension during the Cold War. It took a then likely East-West confrontation and turned it into good RPG fodder, with some historical allegory to the Thirty Years War (with Poland standing in for Germany).

The game’s initial background posited a Soviet invasion of China after escalating border tensions in the then-future of 1995. This distracted the Soviet Union, and West Germany, in cooperation with East Germany, moved to kick the Soviets out of East Germany by force of arms. This naturally went badly, and expanded into a Third World War that pulled NATO and the Warsaw Pact. The second edition of the game was printed in 1990 and changed the flashpoint to German/Polish border issues in Western Poland and ethnic Germans in Silesia, and the 2.2 edition of the game was published in 1993, just before GDW folded and changed the timeline again, this time positing a successful hardliner coup in 1991.

The game, while a bit dated, still has something of a following and was even an attempt to bring the game back as Twilight: 2013 in 2008, to mixed reviews, and the game still has a small but fanatically loyal fanbase as the story of soldiers lost, far from home in a post-apocalyptic landscape has had something of an appeal since the story of Xenophon.

At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

#Wargame Figures/Miniatures #wargaming #wargames #miniatures

0 notes