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stilldani24 · 4 years

Text

I Am Here

corpse husband x reader oneshot

words: 1233

request: “Corpse x reader where they’re married and no one knows and they’re a Broadway actor/actress and they come home and surprises him when he’s streaming” from anonymous

a/n: the title of this oneshot is a song title from the musical Come From Away, and if you haven’t listened to the soundtrack yet, you definitely need to. Also look for the documentary You Are Here: A Come From Away Story for an amazing dive into the real events and creation of the musical.

You picked an unconventional career from the get-go. From the instant you told your parents what you wanted to do and where you were moving, they were skeptical but supportive. At eighteen, you moved to America to attend school for musical theatre. Not only were you out on your own for the first time, you were in a completely new country with no friends. Well, no. That was a lie. You had made many friends all across the country. Alex in Virginia, Rachel in New Jersey, Jade in Michigan, and a kid named Corpse in California you had met on Reddit.

You learned his real name soon after you both developed feelings for each other and began a long distance relationship, but you were more keen in calling him Corpse.

It suited him better.

Even after you had officially met, you moved across the country for him, and had gotten married after three years of dating and one year of engagement. You still called him Corpse, especially since his YouTube career took off and that’s all anyone called him. You didn’t want to be caught saying his real name while he was streaming.

None of his new friends he met playing Among Us knew he was married, or even in a relationship for that matter. He wasn’t at that point with these people yet, they only knew him for his voice and impressive impostor skills. He had gained a following over the years for his Reddit reading videos, so his fans already knew his voice and new fans immediately simped. You found it absolutely adorable, but it was even more reason to keep you a secret. Despite being married, you didn’t mind.

While his YouTube following was increasing, your career was steadily climbing. Broadway had just been reopened following the pandemic and thus a new wave of auditions. You had since graduated and had an agent, and she sent you every audition that fit you. And surprisingly, you were cast in Come From Away, a musical about Operation: Yellow Ribbon following the 9/11 attacks. The cast only consisted of twelve actors, no ensemble, so you were front and centre every night. It was a dream come true, and you had a blast. You hated being away from your husband, but he understood completely and wanted you to chase every opportunity life gave you.

After six consecutive weeks in New York City, you were granted a full month off from the show so you could go home and be with your husband. It was rumoured that Come From Away would be opening in Los Angeles so you were hopeful you would be able to transfer from Broadway to LA. But until then, you had a month off and were excited to go home before having to return back to your NYC studio apartment.

You slowly opened the door to your shared apartment in San Diego, your huge suitcase of luggage behind you as you moved through the apartment. You didn’t call out for your husband, wanting to surprise him completely wherever he was. You were certain he wasn’t streaming, as he wasn’t talking or anything, so you looked around the apartment. When you deduced he was in his gaming room, you thought he was deep in the zone of editing something.

You swung open the door excitedly. “Honey, I’m home!”

Corpse was definitely streaming, just in the lobby as everyone was afk probably grabbing food or using the bathroom. He jumped in his seat, eyes wide as he made eye contact with you. You were frozen as you noticed he was streaming. He was probably speaking the entire time, just quietly so you didn’t hear him, and you had just revealed this huge secret.

Corpse didn’t care.

He threw his headset aside, a huge grin on his face, as he ran to you and scooped you up in his arms as best as he could. “Holy shit, you’re home! Holy fuck!”

You laughed as you hugged him tightly, burying your face into his neck as you just took in his warmth. You didn’t care about the fact that he was streaming anymore. “Hi, baby,” you murmured to him lovingly, then grabbing his face in your hands and planting a fat, juicy kiss on his lips.

“Why didn’t you call me or text me, I could’ve picked you up at the airport!” he laughed, just holding your face in his hands and looking at you.

“I didn’t think you’d be streaming today, so I wanted to surprise you,” you replied, laughing now as he gave you soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks. “Sorry, uh, I ruined our secret.”

“I don’t give a fuck, not a single one, you’re home,” he gushed happily, before looking back to his set up. He let out a low chuckle as he watched the chat scroll by quickly. “Come on.”

He led you to his set up, sitting down in his chair before pulling you down onto his lap. He placed his headset back on, one hand on his mouse while the other arm wrapped around your waist with his hand resting on your thigh.

“Chat, this is my spouse, Y/N. They, uh, they’ve been in New York on Broadway for a month and a half and I’ve missed them so much. Say hi, babe,” he smiled at you now.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you replied shyly, thankful there wasn’t a facecam so they couldn’t see how flustered you were. Or how fucking beat you looked after your long flight.

“Woah, Corpse, you’re married?!” Sean’s excited voice sounded from Corpse’s headset, making you giggle. “Dude, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Jesus, Corpse, you had me here really thinking I had a chance,” Sykkuno then said, making the both of you laugh now.

“It never came up, sorry, guys,” Corpse replied, giving you a slight squeeze. “Yeah, we’ve been together for four years, and we got married last year.”

“Don’t worry, you can still simp over my husband. But if you dare think of actually stealing him from me, I’ll tap dance all over you,” you warned.

“Wait, Corpse said that you came back from Broadway? What show?” Rae then asked. Corpse had moved one of the ears off of his own and turned up the volume so you could actually hear.

“Oh, uh, Come From Away. I’ve only been there since Broadway reopened, but I kinda got lucky getting cast,” you replied sheepishly, curling into Corpse a little bit more.

“That’s bullshit, you have a gorgeous voice,” Corpse replied, pinching your thigh slightly.

“Sing, sing, sing!” his friends began chanting, making you blush heavily and bury your face into his neck. You could perform for hundreds eight times a week but as soon as you were in front of his close friends and over two hundred thousand viewers on his stream, you got incredibly flustered.

“Alright, guys, relax, they just got home and probably need to rest,” Corpse came to your defence, kissing your cheek softly before letting you get up. “Before you leave, babe. I love you.”

“Awww, I love you too,” you cooed softly, leaning down and giving him a soft kiss. You heard his friends taunting him from his headset, making you giggle softly and leave the room as Corpse turned back to his computer to continue his stream.

“Shut the fuck up, guys.”

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #fanfiction #request

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jungshookz · 4 years

Note

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-” “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

»»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

»»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

»»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record…

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

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s-horne · 3 years

Text

Donuts and pink coffee

2000 words of established-relationship stony set in my Harley&Peter universe where Tony hates Valentine’s Day and Steve is a hopeless romantic without even trying

It was a stupid excuse for a holiday. Really, just stupid. What was the point of it anyway?

Did it matter that Tony had forgotten, because it wasn’t as though it were one of their anniversaries or Steve’s birthday, was it? It was just another day, just an over-commercialized day essentially created by corporations to take advantage of hype. Valentine’s Day was a money-making scheme if he wanted to get political about it. Not that Tony was bitter, or anything. He just didn’t see the point in it.

It was never made into a big thing when he was a child. Jarvis, his parents’ housekeeper, had usually bought his wife a single red rose that she would be wearing in her hair when Tony got home from school and ran into the kitchen to steal a quick snack before dinner, and he always made sure that Tony’s mom always got a box of chocolates taken to her room with her morning cup of coffee, but there was no other ‘love’ present just because it was Saint Valentine’s Day. There were never any gifts from his parents to each other, never more than a stiff kiss on the cheek from Howard to Maria before he left the room to go back to his study. They didn’t even smile at each other over dinner; Howard was always too engrossed in his work to remember the date. The same went for their anniversary and Maria’s birthday. And pretty much every other day of their lives together.

Since he’d woken up on the stupid holiday, Tony’s day had only gotten worse. Not that it had started out great when he’d slept through his alarm and then run out of milk for the kids’ cereals so had had to try and convince them to have toast instead – only to find that there was no more peanut butter and Peter didn’t eat toast without it.

Then, when he’d gone to his coffee shop on his way to work, he’d struggled to get a regular cup of his usual coffee as the baristas tried to perfect drinks in frankly disgustingly-unappetizing hues of pink instead. Even his usual croissant had been replaced by a new range of cupcakes with fondant decorations of hearts and what were probably supposed to be cherubs, but had looked more like swans in diapers.

When he’d finally made it to the office – coffee- and croissant-less – the day had been far from productive. All his staff had wanted to talk about were their plans for the evening and every meeting he’d conducted had been interrupted by deliveries of massive floral bouquets for his blushing staff. The more flowers that had arrived, the more people asked Tony what he was doing to celebrate with his gorgeous man – his secretary’s words, not his. (Not that he disagreed.)

Apparently, nothing was the wrong answer to that question, judging by the dropped jaws and side eyes he’d gotten. Tony just didn’t need a day to tell Steve that he loved him. He didn’t need a stuffed bear or chocolates or red roses that suddenly seemed to be five times the price that they had been when he’d ordered them for Steve’s mom a few weeks before.

In his defence, he and Steve been together for years and they were the fathers to two young boys. Honestly, they barely remembered to kiss before they collapsed into bed, never mind finding time to plan an entire day of romance. They’d done all that before – well, no, they’d never really done that, actually. Their courtship had been a whirlwind of stuffed toys for the boys as gifts instead of flowers, dates to museums or playgrounds instead of theatres or restaurants, and snatched moments of ‘grown-up’ time between babysitter deadlines and after-school clubs. But it worked for them.

By the time he was done with meetings and paperwork and could head home, Tony was honestly fed up of life in general. After feeling nothing but peer pressure all day, he had decided to try and do something to at least mark the day. He’d tried to order Steve’s favorite takeout, only to find that the restaurant was fully booked and were experiencing a wait time of a few hours for delivery.

All he’d seen all day were signs for flowers, posters plastered in near enough every shop window for roses in so many shades of red that it made Tony’s eyes hurt. But Steve didn’t like flowers around the house because they were likely to be knocked over by a rambunctious little boy playing a made-up game and spill water all over the floor, so that was no good. They also had enough candy in the house to last them for months so that idea was out too. Neither of them had the need, or the want, for a stuffed bear and Steve didn’t do jewelry.

Tony was stumped.

Finally, finally, walking through the front door, Tony felt the day’s tension fall from his shoulders. He couldn’t get to the kitchen fast enough, needing to throw off his coat and drop his bag down before they suffocated him.

When he was finally free of those, – and his shoes, tie, and belt – he looked around, only just noticing that he was alone. It was unusual for him to be left alone for so long on the days that he was kept at the office later than five and was more often than not ambushed as soon as his car pulled up to the drive.

Before he could go searching, he noticed the table. Two of the tiniest boxes of candy were set on the table next to a box of donuts, placed right where he usually sat for their meals. Someone was obviously a lot better at romance than he was. Make that three someones, he realised as he stepped closer and noticed three different sets of handwriting, one on each box.

Daddy! Happy V-day! :) proclaimed one box of candy, letters neat and small enough to fit in the white space on the packaging.

Daddyy!!! Happy velentins day!!!!!! said the other in a bright red pen, box a little bent from Harley’s blatant enthusiasm and finished with a little doodle of what was probably a heart in one corner.

Grinning, Tony turned to the last gift. It was a box of his favorite donuts and very obviously from his favorite bakery, even if the label had been covered with a post-it note.

Sweetheart, it said in a stark black, Happy Valentine’s Day. Love you today and always

Tony swallowed, tracing his finger over Steve’s cursive. It didn’t make sense, how much he had and who he had around him.

What had he done to deserve the life he had?

It didn’t take him long to find his boys after that and he paused in the doorway to the living room, feeling any leftover stress ebb away as he took in the sight of Steve sprawled out on the couch with Peter draped over his legs and Harley tucked under his arm, all three of them completely enthralled by the bright film on the television.

“What are we watching?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Peter and Harley’s heads shot up and they scrambled to get off the couch. Harley managed it first and barreled across the floor, throwing his arms around Tony’s neck when he was close enough and wrapping his legs around Tony’s waist.

“Daddy! You’re home!”

“I am, babe. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Despite always saying he was too cool for hugs whenever Steve or Tony initiated them, Peter quickly joined Harley and buried his face in Tony’s stomach, hands on his thighs. “Hi. Didja see the candy?”

“I did, you little superstar. Thank you very much. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.”

“Valentine’s!” Harley shouted, far too close to Tony’s ear for comfort. “Love you!”

“I love you, too,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to Harley’s temple before he set him on the floor where he scampered back over to the empty couch. Running his hand over Peter’s hair, Tony mentally counted down the seconds of hug he had left with his eldest. Five seconds was pushing it, most days. “Love you, as well, terror.”

All too soon, Peter pulled away and Tony let him go with a held-back sigh.

“Hello, handsome.”

Smiling, Tony turned his head. “Hi, gorgeous. Say, you wouldn’t know anything about a box of donuts in the kitchen, would you?”

“Hm, possibly? Are they in a yellow box?” Steve asked, stepping closer, brow furrowed a little.

“Don’t think so. Pink, if I recall.”

“Oh, those donuts. Right, yeah, I know something about those,” Steve murmured, taking a last step to him and curling his arm around Tony’s waist. “Think I saw them earlier. A secret admirer, perhaps?”

Tony let himself move to Steve’s body, his hands lifting automatically to rest on Steve’s chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, lower lip pushing out a little as he sagged in Steve’s hold.

“Yeah? Why’s that, then?”

“Cause it makes me look bad,” Tony said, dropping his head into Steve’s neck much like Harley had done to him. God, he needed a hug.

Steve laughed softly. “How?”

“I didn’t get anything.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head, one hand settling on the small of his back, “it’s alright. I didn’t do it to get something in return.”

“Ugh,” Tony said eloquently. Steve had always been the better of the two of them. Better with words, better with thoughts. Apparently better with romance and remembering dates. “They only had pink coffee at my shop.”

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t.” Burying even closer, Tony let out a long sigh. “I didn’t even get a croissant.”

“Even worse,” Steve said, so much fake shock injected in his voice that it sounded like he was talking to one of the kids. When Tony pinched his side, he laughed loudly again. “Did you manage to salvage the day after that?”

Honestly, Tony couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, either, not with his boys laughing at whatever movie they had gone back to watching and with Steve’s arms holding him tight. He must have made some sort of noise as Steve chuckled again.

“I’ll take that as a no. Want to crack open those donuts? There’s a bit left of this film and I said the kids could have something sweet before they went to bed – I swear they got more candy from school today than they did at Halloween.”

Tony made another noise. “In a minute. They’re watching the film for now and I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

“Okay,” Steve said softly, pressing another kiss to Tony’s hair as his arms tightened around him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“So am I,” Tony said, eyes closing. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Course I do. I’m incredible.”

Tony snorted. “You’ve been hanging around with me for too long. But even if I don’t do flowers and chocolate and donuts, I love you. So, so much. You are one of the best things that ever happened to me and I thank everything I can think of every single day for you coming into my life.”

There was a silence, broken only by the laughter of their sons and some noise from the movie that Tony still hadn’t identified. All too soon, Steve pushed Tony away from him ever so slightly. With wide eyes, he lifted shaking hands to cup Tony’s face, thumb stroking over the apple of Tony’s cheek.

“You, me, and our boys,” he said, voice serious and unwavering and sounding like something one would say at an altar. “I love you more than I will ever be able to tell you.”

“I want to spend my life loving you.” Whenever he had to get serious, Tony normally chose to do it in their bedroom, with his back turned to Steve and the lights down low. He hated baring his feelings, hated putting himself somewhere to be vulnerable, but it was less scary with Steve’s cologne surrounding him and his touch keeping Tony grounded. “With our kids and some donuts and no flowers and the discounted candy I’ll buy tomorrow.”

Steve’s smile was gentle as he ducked his head and brushed a kiss to the corner of Tony’s eye, just above where his fingers lay. “I’ll take that deal. On Valentine’s Day and every other.”

#i wrote a thing #valentine's day #even though it's no longer valentine's day #meh who's counting #who's even reading #stony fic #stony #stony au #stevetony fic #stevetony au #stevetony #what universe is this set in i have no idea #harley stark #peter parker rogers #super superfamily #kid fic #stony kid fic

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pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

Text

HSMTMTS 2x12: Don't say we'll have to let it go...

After a very stressful morning and several moments in which I was close to a full sanity slip completely unrelated to this, it is high time (heck, it's the highest of times, if you know what I mean) I got to the new HSMTMTS, the last one for a while.

I'm honestly scared, though. This morning I thought nothing could make me more nervous today than the whole ordeal I had to go through, but now that I'm here, I'm super scared and anxious. I don't even want to say it, but... what if this is... you know what I'm thinking. We're all thinking it. I just hope we're wrong in a good way.

I feel like I might die of anxiety, so I guess I'll just dive in. Whatever will be, will be.

Supportive Nini is best Nini. Honestly, I haven't liked her all season as much as I do now. The background, behind-the-scenes role seems to fit her a lot better than the lead. I hope to see more of her like this when (fingers crossed!!!) the show comes back.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, is a perfect lead. She was born for this, and it shows. It shows so much that everybody has finally noticed it. They took their time, didn't they?

Ugh, I hate, hate, hate this kind of moment that happens every time when someone has prepared a surprise for someone else — and we saw that twice this season — once with Carlos at his Quinceañero, and now with Ashlyn. I mean the moment before they find out about the surprise and they feel like they've been forgotten and it's all so sad... at least I know whatever my boy Reddy has planned for his girl will make up for that sort of feeling. I can't wait!

Ahhhhh @redlyncentral you called it! You called it big time! I can't say I wasn't expecting it to be something like this, though, because I trust your sixth sense more than I trust mine — and I trust mine a lot. Also, if anyone deserves to have their name in lights, it's Ashlyn. And remember when she told Big Red that, to make things light up, he just had to walk into a room? Or when he told her that the only thing he'd throw at her was a brighter spotlight? You know, I think that, just like airports are Portwell's thing, lights are Redlyn's thing. And that is so beautiful... I am legitimately crying.

Yikes... see, it's one thing when Nini calls Ricky 'Richard'. But it's another thing entirely when Kourtney calls Howie 'Howard'. Gosh, I hope they clear things up. If Howie has something to say (as in, some secret to come clean about, if you catch my drift), he'd better do it now. I was never too invested in Kowie, but it still hurts to see tension between them.

Ok, but... these two are too dorky for words! I mean, you're telling me Howie was acting that way just because of how nervous Kourtney's talent made him? Oh well, I feel like I can understand that, actually. She's a powerhouse. But also, everyone around here needs to learn a lesson or two from Redlyn. About communication, reciprocity, expression of feelings... it's no accident that they're the parents of the drama club. But this is not about them. Oh, who am I kidding? With me, everything is about them. Unless it's about Seblos or Portwell. Never mind. Moving on.

I am trying very hard not to have a visible or audible reaction because my brother is in the room and I'm supposed to be working, but... EJ had his dad put in a good word for Mr Mazzara at Caltech. And that is something that makes me feel feelings I can't very easily put into words. Also, what does that mean for Mr M's future at East High?

As clear as the imprint of Jamie's words is to see on EJ's face, I feel like he's not giving up on Portwell quite yet. 'Play it by ear' sounded quite promising to me, all things considered.

Not Ricky and Nini writing the same thing in slightly different words... again! I absolutely get why people ship them, at least on the surface level I do, but I really can't see them as a couple anymore. That is not to say, however, that I'm not rooting for them on their way to figuring out how to be 'just' friends. (See, I'm not a big fan of the expression 'just friends', as if it's something less than a romantic relationship, so...) They could be the best friends ever. If, and only if they learn to communicate properly. All kinds of relationships require good communication. I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but, you know, if it's true...

I can't look at Miss Jenn the same way after last week's episode. The Menkies have turned her, quite frankly, into a monster. She's too obsessed with beating Zacky Roy to notice how she's treating her students who have always been nothing but devoted to her and the play. Well, some of them anyway... I feel like it's time for Carlos to reconsider his opinion of her... and I know it must be painful, and the least thing I'd ever wish for him is pain, but... sometimes certain painful things are necessary. I just hope everyone comes out of this alright. I think I might not, though. I've been crying for a while already.

No... why is Gina crying? My girl needs a hug... Oh, here comes Nini. This seems like it's been a long time coming.

This was beautiful... only one character played by an actress named Olivia will be redeemed today. And it's the right one, if I do say so myself.

Alright, who called it? Gina connecting Nini with her brother about her music, I mean. I know for a fact someone here called it. If you happen to be that genius and you read this, please come forward in the notes to get the credit you deserve. This is... a little too perfect to be true, but I feel like it's the best way to connect and wrap up several storylines with one blow. And I love when that happens. Gosh, why does this feel like a series finale? Please tell me I'm wrong. I am not ready. I will never be ready. Ok, maybe one day I will be, but not anytime soon. Please tell me my feeling is deceiving me this time.

Oh, good, it's being addressed. The 'jump off of something high' comment, I mean. It would have been wrong not to address it. I kind of really liked the way they did it, too. Also, 'getting there' really is the most accurate answer to the question whether Ricky is happy. I feel like he's got a long way to go before he does get there, but he really is closer to that destination than he's been in a while. This boy deserves all the happiness. He's been through way too much. And I'm glad Miss Jenn is finally seeing her part in his struggles throughout the year.

Ahhh it's the song! I've been so excited for it all week, ever since that teaser leaked. But, once again: why does this feel like a finale? I want to curb my anxiety and watch this episode with a free mind, but the episode itself just isn't helping me. Ok, let's go back to the song for now. Whatever will be, will be.

No... EJ's verse... just no. Somebody tell that boy not to be so hung up on the words of somebody who doesn't even know who Gina is today. I've had 'the majestic S.S. Portwell' for a couple of weeks and I'm not ready for it not setting sail after it was almost out of the... port(well). Have I ever told you I make bad puns when I'm anxious?

Carlos doesn't even remember being on stage... that's too relatable to be overlooked. See, I used to perform on stage (I've decided to quit for good now and it makes me cry only slightly), and that has always been how I've felt about it. I feel like my favourites are who they are because I relate to each one of them to an extent — some are who I think I am, some are who I used to be, and some are who I wish I could become... and so much more on top. I'm being so emotional. I'm not ready to let these kids go. Please someone tell me I won't have to, at least not quite yet.

The Wildcats' reaction to... Capital-B-witch and Fake-French-Git-who-is-apparently-French-for-real (as I've taken to calling those two because calling them by their real names would mean showing them respect which they don't deserve) was exactly the same as mine. No one invited them there. They're not supposed to be there. Someone kick them out.

'Big Red... you were... also there!' Um, excuse you, he was not just 'there'! I mean, I know we didn't get to see him on stage (we've been robbed!!!), but I'm sure he was the most amazing LeFou to ever grace a theatre stage. That being said, we have been robbed! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I want to see what Big Red's reaction will be. I've been fantasising about this moment for weeks now.

Ok... so I said a couple of weeks ago, in my post on 2x10, that Ricky has been given a chance to prove what kind of friend he is right then and there... and, well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, but it was nice. I think that's the word for it. Nice. Ricky is just too nice to do what I kept seeing in my fantasy. And Big Red is doubly too nice to do it. But I... I surprise myself sometimes with how aggressive I can get in defence of other people. Maybe it's better this way than my way.

Did that capital-B-witch just say what I thought I heard her say? Because there's no way she just said that. Also, 'sometimes people deserve a second chance'... well, yeah. And sometimes they don't, you... well, I don't use words like that, but you guys can put two and two together, right?

'I'd trade it all for this group right here tonight'... me too, Eej, me too. I'm not even going to pretend I'm not crying because, guess what, I'm bloody bawling my eyes out! I kind of stopped for a moment when you-know-who and her second-in-command came in, but now I'm crying again. I am so not ready to let these kids go.

So... they're dropping out? Just like that? Well, that was anticlimactic! But hey, I absolutely get it. That's the Wildcat spirit, after all, isn't it? They did win already. They won something that some of North High's students can never understand. And that's more important than just about anything. [side note: I've got to say I appreciate the fact that my boy Reddy is now able to joke about his opening night predicament. See, that's another thing I relate to. I go through the craziest stuff, and then I laugh and tell stories to anyone who will listen. And I think that's the best approach to that kind of stuff. I just wish I could be less dramatic about the little things, too. It seems to me it's easier to laugh about the big, serious stuff once it's over, but not about some things that most people would deem unworthy of their attention. But hey, I'm working on that. Also, this post is not supposed to be about me. Moving on.]

Bless Ashlyn and the fact that she's good at communication. Even if she's a little late. She's not too late yet. Portwell might still be saved.

No, Ricky, you so did not just call you-know-who! I will not stand for any of that. Unless it's to shut her off once and for all, in which case I say go for it and go full steam. But why do I get the feeling it's not going to be like that? Ok, never mind, let's set that one aside and focus on Portwell for a second.

Ok, that was... that was going to be so beautiful, and then they cut it off. Is Portwell about to be Redlyn 2.0? Oh well, if it really is, that isn't going to be so bad after all. But now all I can think about is... when are we getting the renewal? How am I supposed to sleep at night until we know for sure?

Not them making me cry with a BTS montage... as if I wasn't crying hard enough already. I'm not alone in the house, you guys! In fact, we're having a bunch of guests from overseas in... wait, I think they're at the door. I'm not ready for people! Not now. Pray for me, you guys! (In all seriousness, though, don’t pray for me. Pray for a season 3 announcement to come soon)

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ricky bowen #nini salazar-roberts #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew-smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts howie #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara

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iamtaekooked · 4 years

Text

Genre: FLUFF

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: none

Synopsis:

When Yoongi gets jealous, he receives the best birthday present ever.

A/N: Happy Birthday to our lovely boy Min Yoongi. I wrote this in like 3 hrs and it’s not edited so RIP. I dedicate this to Min Yoongi’s lovergirl @ughkive. I hope ya’ll enjoy!

Min Yoongi is your best friend. Always has been, always will be. There is no way around it.

Min Yoongi is also your long time crush. Always has been and it seems like he always will be a crush and nothing more. There is no way around that either.

But Park Jimin thinks he’s got a perfect idea. Park Jimin, your incessantly annoying friend always thinks he’s got the best ideas. After all, he prides himself on finding his one true soulmate, his brother from another mother Kim Taehyung who happens to be the best influence on Jimin and keeps him in check.

But when Jimin opens mouth and blurts out his worst ever idea, even Kim Taehyung is late in stopping him.

“Jimin” Taehyung looks at him warningly.

“Look it’s going to work okay?” Jimin responds defensively

“So let me get this clear. You want me to go as your date to the Masquerade just so Yoongi will get jealous?” you chime in.

“We all know Yoongi prides himself on being stoic. It’s his charm or that’s what he thinks. But you guys remember that Yoongi and I competed in high school over this one girl we both liked. I know for a fact he loves you y/n and he will get jealous” Jimin explains, hands flailing around, passion clear as day in his tone. You don’t think he’s even this passionate about dancing and Jimin adores dancing.

“That is a bad idea” Taehyung comments firmly. “In fact, it’s the worst idea ever”

“I agree with Taehyung. We’re not kids. Yoongi definitely isn’t childish like that. He’s above jealousy. Plus it’s his birthday tomorrow. We can’t do that to him” you say it with pride.

“You both are clearly dumb” Jimin huffs. “No man in this world will okay when he sees another man acting all cozy with his girl. Especially when that man happens to be someone handsome like me and also someone he is friends with. It would make the best present for him when he finds out you like him and he will find out because he will react. I can bet anything he will tell you he likes you just because he’ll feel threatened by me. Trust me on this y/n” Jimin imparts this piece of knowledge on you with a self-satisfied smile.

You’re all silent as you look at each other. Taehyung seems to mull it over for a moment lips jutted out in a pout and a vacant look in his eyes. “Well...” he starts. “As a member of the male species, I can understand that logic. I don’t think I would like it if Jimin got all hot and heavy with a girl I liked”

“Exactly. Plus Yoongi and I have a history of going for the same girl. He lost last time so he’ll probably feel threatened this time and react to it”

“Technically he didn’t lose last time” Taehyung corrects, quickly looking away when Jimin shoots him a glare.

“She dated me” Jimin pouts.

“Yeah. For a day” Taehyung mumbles, not so subtly though because all of you hear it.

Jimin looks thoroughly offended as his mouth drops open and his nostrils flare slightly. “Still. That’s a win. But that’s beside the point. The point is that since Yoongi and I have this history between us, he’ll believe it quicker because he will think that there is a chance that even this time the girl he likes will choose me. The threat is real in his mind”

As much as you hate it, it kind of does make sense. Yoongi already always acts weird around Jimin, trying to one-up him whether that be in beer pong, or trying to get Jimin to rap just to show him out, or trying his hardest to compete against Jimin in Just Dance and Fornite even though he knows Jimin is a dance major and no one can win against him.

You bite your lip in indecision, unsure about the implications of it all. The absolute worst that could happen is that Yoongi doesn’t react at all. He doesn’t care and at least then you know that there is a high possibility that he doesn’t like you.

“Fine. Let’s do it” you agree despite the reservations your harbour.

Kim Taehyung doesn’t usually get surprised or shocked. Even when you all watched ‘IT’ in the theatres, all you reacted to the jump scares but Taehyung didn’t. Taehyung wasn’t even surprised when Jeongguk ended up losing to Jimin in Overwatch.

But Taehyung is surprised when at the Masquerade Ball Yoongi downs four vodka shots one after the other after he sees Jimin and you flirting over in the corner of the room. He watches wide-eyed and bewildered and Yoongi orders two more shots and downs one of them quickly.

“What’s gotten into you?” Taehyung tries to keep his lips in a straight line but he knows Yoongi is starting to feel something the more you and Jimin get touchy with each other.

“Nothing” comes Yoongi’s stoic voice accompanied by his usual stoic expression even as he continues to glare at you and Jimin. He doesn’t take his eyes off as he reaches for the other shot and chugs it, placing the glass back down on the bar counter with a slam.

Taehyung follows Yoongi’s line of sight to find Jimin leaning in, whispering something in your ear as you giggle in delight.

“I don’t get it” Yoongi comments, eyes still fixed on Jimin and you.

“What?” Taehyung prompts on purpose.

“That” Yoongi spits with spite as he continues to glare at you both only this time a frown appears on his forehead and his nostrils flare slightly as Jimin locks one of his hands in yours and continues to say something close to your ear making you throw your head back with a laugh.

“What about that?” Taehyung raises his brows, lip quivering in a knowing smirk.

“How does he always know?” Yoongi continues to be vague, unable to look anywhere but you, and at how you look so happy next to Jimin. He can’t look away because you look beautiful in that sparkly golden gown of yours, which hugs you at just the right places. He can’t look away because as usual, you hold his attention like no one does. You enrapt him, rendering him unable to focus on anything around himself.

“If you’re jealous, just say it bro” Taehyung takes a sip of the strawberry drink in his hand.

“Pfft” Yoongi finally tears his gaze away from the wretched little corner and looks at Taehyung. “Jimin isn’t anything special so I am not jealous”

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung lips widen in a grin. “Then why do you look like you could kill Jimin right now?”

Yoongi casts his gaze down on his lap, rolling the shot glass between his fingers as he tries to come up with a good enough response. He sighs heavily before he addresses Taehyung. “Because I could kill him”

“I never thought you of all people would be prone to being jealous. But then again you both did like the same girl in high school and she did choose Jimin so..” Taehyung remarks in an effort to irritate Yoongi. Yoongi shifts his icy cold gaze to him, daring him to say another word.

Taehyung can only shrug in his defence as he hops off the barstool. “Happy Birthday bro” he winks at Yoongi and strolls off, disappearing into the sea of people.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter back to you and he thinks he’s had enough of you and Jimin to last him a lifetime. So, very ungracefully he stumbles off the stool and makes his way towards you. Even with each step he takes, you still seem further out of his reach. He doesn’t know if its the alcohol playing tricks on him or if the distance is actually increasing between you and him.

He shakes his head and continues to part through the crowd of people muttering small apologies under his breath.

He stops in his tracks, breath hitching in his throat because Jimin is leaning in, his eyes closed and your eyes closed. Jimin’s lips are just about to touch yours when Yoongi clears his throat very loudly, breaking the moment. He exhales the breath he had been holding once you and Jimin are a respectable distance apart again.

“Look who it is!” Jimin grins throwing an arm around Yoongi. But Yoongi is quick to push his arm away with a vexed look on his face.

“Seems like I interrupted an important moment” he looks at you, lips pursed in a thinly-veiled jealous and halfhearted attempt at a smile.

“It was nothing” Jimin waves him off. “We were just talking” he pretends as if nothing happened.

It seems to work because Yoongi raises a brow at the younger boy. “Really?”

“Well.. I mean we were just talking and things kind of got a little serious and you know” he shrugs in a nonchalant manner. “It happens sometimes” Jimin passes you a look trying to hold back a smile.

“Well, why don’t you try to keep it in your pants and stop trying to get at my best friend” Yoongi offers a thin-lipped tight smile clearly not impressed.

“So you were saying y/n...” Jimin raises his brows as he trails off hinting at your previous conversation and certainty that Min Yoongi would not react. “Anyway, it seems like I am getting in the middle of something here so I’ll be off. Happy Birthday, Yoongi” Jimin raises his glass to Yoongi who just glares at him, until he’s out of sight.

“What was that?” you question tentatively as Yoongi turns to look at you after having had his fill of shooting dirty looks at Jimin.

“What?” he shrugs

“You know the whole I-am-the-alpha-male- routine”

“I am the alpha male y/n” Yoongi’s fingers wrap around your wrist and he tugs you along with him.

“Where are we going?” you question as he pulls you along through the sea of people in front of you.

You reach the ballroom where people are dancing. Yoongi lets go of your arm and from a table on the side that is filled with masks, Yoongi picks a golden shimmery one. He turns to you, places the mask on your face and reaches behind you to tie the strings behind your head. You can smell his cologne from this distance, you can also smell the vodka on his breath as it fans your skin, leaving you with goosebumps all over your body.

“There,” he pulls back with a smile. “Looks like it was made for you”

Then he turns back around and picks a black mask for himself. He turns back to you and holds it up to you. “Your turn”

You take it from him and tie the mask around his head. “There. It matches your suit” you say as you pull back. “Is Min Yoongi really going to dance?” you question, finding his actions uncharacteristic for his usual demeanour.

He holds out his hand for you take. You look between him and his hand and upon being met with a sincere look in his eyes you place your hand in his. He leads you out to the floor, arm circling around your waist as he pulls you in. With his other hand, he wraps his fingers around your hand and starts swaying gently. You wrap your arm around his shoulder and hold his hand tight

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says gently

“So you’re saying I don’t look beautiful otherwise?” you tease.

Yoongi shakes his head with a chuckle. “You can never take a compliment can you?”

“Not from you” you reply

He’s silent as he sways you in his arms, moving to the rhythm of the music and holding onto you tight like he can’t let go. He gently and softly begins to stroke your back and you lean into him and place your chin on his shoulder.

“Is there something between you and Jimin?” his voice mixes in with the music as his words melt in the air.

“No” you shake your head, pulling back to look at him, but his hand stays firm around your waist even as you let go of each other’s hands. “Why are you asking?”

“I am asking because I hate it when you and Jimin act all friendly with each other. I hate it when he’s that close to you” he stops moving and so do you.

“Why do you hate it?” you reach behind your head and take off the mask.

“Because...” Yoongi too unties the string behind his head and takes off the mask, his glowy face coming back into sight. “I like you. I always have. I can’t lose you to anyone, especially not Jimin. So I need to know if there is something between you and him”

“Mr. Min Yoongi, there is nothing between me and Jimin. For the record, I like you too. I always have” your lips curve up in a smile that Yoongi is quick to mirror.

“Hmm. I see” his lips quiver, a smile threatening to escape. “Did you get me a present?”

“I just told you I like you too and you’re asking me for a present?” you gawk at him, disbelief flooding through you.

“Just answer with a yes or no. Did you get me a present?” he repeats himself, eyes crinkling slightly as his lips begin to slowly stretch to reveal that gummy smile you have come to love so much.

“No” you whisper, suddenly feeling a pang of nervousness in your stomach because Yoongi’s eyes soften and he looks at you the way you have always wanted him to look at you-- with love, fondness and absolute adoration. It’s the way every woman wants to be looked at by a man. It’s that look--the one where the other person looks into your eyes and holds your gaze, the one they talk about in movies, the one they write poems about. Yoongi is finally allowing himself to look at you like that and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with yourself.

“Then can I ask for a present?” his voice a dulcet of a whisper.

You nod because your voice is stuck in the back of the throat and so are the words you want to say.

“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you in a way no one has ever kissed you. Will you let me?”

“I thought you would never ask”

Yoongi leans in, his lips almost on yours. You can feel his breath ever so softly fanning your lips. You can smell the vodka on his breath. His lips graze against yours and he pulls back slightly like he’s teasing you. Your eyes flutter close because of the sensation and then you feel it-- the sudden surge of adrenaline as he finally presses his lips against yours.

His hand travels up your arm, while the other holds you tight against him. He rests his hand at the nape of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss. He’s kissing you softly at first but then with a gradation of intensity that makes you hold onto him for support for your knees feel weak.

He kisses you once, and then he kisses you again until you realize that you’ll never have enough of him. He holds himself to his word because no one has ever kissed you the way he is-- by making you lose your mind and then, making you question whether you even want it back.

When he pulls away you’re dizzy and red-faced. You cling onto him still because your knees will give out if you let go.

“I am glad I asked” he whispers as he ghosts over your lips and placed a gentle peck.

“Happy Birthday Yoongi” your quiet voice melts in the air, etching itself into Yoongi’s mind as he takes you in with your swollen lips, and red cheeks and he knows that he’ll never get tired of seeing you a mess after he kisses you.

As he looks into those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes of yours he knows that he’ll always kiss you like he’s losing you.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bangtanhq #magicshopnet #yoongi x reader #bts min yoongi #bts suga #THIS IS FLUFF #I AM SOFT #i really just wanted to write a jealous yoongi #and Jimin as a slight crackhead

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wizisbored · 3 years

Note

What are some of your favorite lines you've written for your fics? (Also I'm sorry things aren't going well right now. Sending love 💜)

right its time to go diggin im using this as an excuse to reread everything because i cant think of any lines off the top of my head even though i know theres a shitton

premptively putting a cut here because this will probably end up long as shit and you know what fuck yea to that because fuck yea to being proud of what youve made

hallelujah, first thing i posted:

If those bastards want to make her part of their shitty musical, then she’s going to make it difficult. Or at least inconvenient.

The hive is not inconvenienced in the slightest.’

- idk if this is as funny as i think it is but i find it funny

"Nobody dies with dignity, Emma. There's no honour in the thing, however you dress it up."

- wrote that to sound creepy and now i cant decide whether i actually think its true

But he’s holding her like she’s his salvation, as if it’s his life hanging in the balance.

- salvation is just a good word tbh

It’s hopeless, but she refuses to be killed by a game of fucking ‘got your nose’.

purgatory, intended to be a shitpost but now i unironically think of it as the best thing ive ever written

After a few years (or maybe seconds, it’s not clear) / it takes a moment (or maybe it doesn’t, who knows?) / An undocumentable amount of time passes. / They might have slipped into an uneasy silence lasting millenia - or milliseconds - if it wasn’t for the jolly tune that suddenly fills the air. / for minutes or years or millenia or maybe even eons / After a brief, indescribably long nap / But the incomprehensible amount of time seems somehow shorter this time.

- 2 in one of fucking with the concept of time and hinting at an unreliable narrator, hell yea. its about the weird atmosphere, baybeeeee

“Does one day of trying the hardest we could outweigh years of not trying at all?” Emma wonders aloud. Paul squeezes her hand.

“I damn hope so.”

He doesn’t ask if she believes in Hell.

- even without context i like this line but in context it really helped set the sombre tone so i could do a full 180 at the end of the chapter

Emma wonders whether they’ve been sent to musical hell for failing to stop the musical apocalypse

- love the implication that there is a hell dedicated to annoying people via musical theatre

“You said- you told her you’d never be in a musical?”

“Yes.”

“And then you died performing a musical number?”

“I- yeah, I did.”

“Brilliant! Now, that is stupid!”

- probably my best characterisation of death, sounds like something that would be said in a stupid deaths bit, i can hear it in his voice

teachers pet

“It’s only blatant if people know about it. So in actual fact this is secret favouritism.”

- hidgens gives absolutely 0 shits about the ethics of the situation good for him

“And if that is kidnapping, well, consider yourself kidnapped.”

- once again ethics simply do not matter

“Oh, where is your sense of adventure? Are you not curious about the results of washing baked beans?”

- this line hants me when im trying to make stew or just have some fucking beans on toast because I am curious about the results of washing baked beans

“Well, if it isn’t, and we both die, then I’ll be quite disappointed. We did spend all evening on this, after all.”

- priorities

finishing what we started, actually originally a scrapped ending idea for igtlt that i liked too much to abandon entirely

“How many bullets?” He eventually asks.

“Enough.”

- they just know what theyve got to do

Only thing left to say is a big ol’ fuck you to… God, everyone else in the fucking world. Oh, and God. Fuck you God, you prick.

- gotta love them tto refs

wildfire, almost 20,000 words of angst that im going to read through because fuck it why not

She doesn't understand the order, at least not yet; a dog doesn't understand the first time she's called to heel. But that can change. Though, from the bared teeth of this dog, the trader guesses it may take a while.

- this is actually something i really like doing in narration, calling a character something in dialogue or comparison and then directly calling them it in the narration

He understands; she doesn't want to show weakness to someone who could exploit her, doesn't want to show gratitude to someone she hates. But the tribeswoman is tired and scared and hurt, and it's obvious. She's broken, at least for today.

The loneliness, however, refuses to wane. It settles in her chest like a physical need, a craving for closeness.

- got inspiration for this description by thinking about hugging my partner while i was stuck in lockdown

"You can say that again," the older woman mutters, shaking her head. "God-fuckin'-damnit, Lauren, why d'you never think about the implications?"

Jemilla turns to her with a questioning look. "Who's Lauren?"

"She-" Molag begins to explain, then pauses. She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "I don't even know."

- crossover jokes hell yea

He’s tolerable, she’s decided, at least relatively so, but not trustworthy. If she could truly trust him then he wouldn’t be involved in all this. If she could trust him, she wouldn’t know him.

The thinly-veiled threat in his grin

She stares up at the man, shaking, whimpering, pleading. Wordlessly begging for him to stop.

- gotta love reaching the breaking point

She probably looks insane, bruised and bloody and laughing quietly to herself in a cage. She doesn’t care. They can think she’s insane, just as long as they don’t think they broke her.

laughing as they rediscover half-forgotten days spent as children let loose in a world that seemed so huge and yet so small at the same time

“You know, kids like Zazzalil - scrawny little things born as Autumn died - they’re not supposed to see Spring.”

- i will see any character without a detailed fleshed-out backstory and say ‘is anyone going to make headcannons about that’ and then not wait for an answer

Maybe the pain will shock her out of her head.

im going to live twice

It feels more like a bag of broken crockery than a human.

- this was the only time ive ever had to describe something really gory and decided to make it as uncomfy as possible

she notices with a concerning level of non-concern

Paul Matthews is gone, boy. And if I catch you using a dead man’s name again, well.

- its about the ✨forced disconnect✨

It stares at him, and for a moment he sees the young man that Benny used to be, silently pleading for the agent to tell him he'll be okay.

"In my defence, that was the Colonel's idea.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “I wanted to call you Lauren. I was outvoted.”

- i will take literally any chance to make a 4th wall joke and that is a threat

“I’ll see what can be done,” he assures it, knowing full well that nothing will be.

- xander doesnt flat out abuse emma in the way mcnamara and shaffer do but hes still cruel in subtler ways

“No chance of being hurt?”

Xander nods. “No chance of you being hurt.”

- ✨foreshadowing ✨

If only he was free, free to just get up and go find Blue and tell her - actually tell her, out loud, with words - that she’s going to be okay. If only he could say that and have it be the truth.

She holds onto that piano. Right now, as she kneels crying into the tabletop, it's all she has.

- ‘sir thats my emotional support near-complete stranger’

smoke and feathers

Irony can be a cruel, twisted bitch.

- probably the best opener ive written

There’s a sort of pathetic irony in the fact that she slipped on a stone while wading across a shallow stream and broke her neck.

The stars move across the sky, and she still doesn’t know why.

- sounds poetic and all while also being a fuck you to the chorn twist because i hate it

It seems like every time she looks away the moon goes from waxing to waning and back again, time marching onwards in one unending night, swallowing one unending forest.

Even with her limited view of the person’s face, Zazzalil can see the softness in their expression. She’s hit with a pang of longing for Jemilla.

They share those tender looks that make Zazzalil long for home.

The kind of silence only shared between people who can appreciate the simplicity of each other’s presence

aaand thats pretty much all of em. i know when you said ‘some’ you probably meant less than this but i will give a consice answer to a question when pigs fly. i was going to do the double e au too but its past 1 am now and im going to bed. thanks for this ask because whether intentionally or not you just made me read 48,860 words of fic and thats a damn good distraction when things are getting a bit shitty :)

#igtlt fic #wildfire fic #teachers pet fic #sf fic

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gotatext · 5 years

Text

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine.

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years.

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time.

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate.

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps. i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

#livingintro #this is such a long boi....... waht the fuck.... u dont need to read the bio the summary notes are long enough fuking hell

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keyboard-smashed · 5 years

Text

The Storm That's Brewing

Warnings: Snake, blood (not in detail but it's mentioned), tell me if there's anything else

(link to chapter 1 & 3 at the bottom)

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Chapter 2- Singing With The Birds

To Virgil’s surprise, three whole weeks past by with no incident- unless you counted the morning that Patton told a joke about something sciency that made Logan laugh so much he choked on his tea, which caused him to drop his mug, which caused Roman to run our of his room, his hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a red bath robe, brandishing a pool noodle as a weapon (though why he had a pool noodle in his room was beyond Virgil). No, Virgil would only class this as an incident if he’d not managed to get a picture, but his lock screen proved this not to be the case.

In the brief amount of time, all four men had managed to find jobs. Acting was Roman’s profession of choice, but the local theatre was already halfway through their rehearsals for the upcoming play (We Will Rock You) and no roles were left, so he’d have to wait a few months to persue that. Instead, he found a job as a singer in a small restaurant that had live music on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He only worked two or three of the nights per week, but the pay was alright and the tips were very generous most of the time.

Patton’s job surprised Virgil the most. A librarian wasn’t something he’d ever imagined Patton being. Pat always been insecure about his dyslexia, avoiding books and reading as much as he could, unless he was being read to by someone else. Virgil had vivid memories of Pat begging him to finish a story at 2am. Sure, he loved stories, but he hated reading. That’s why when Virgil visited Patton at work, he was utterly shocked to see Patton sitting in a circle of kids, reading to them. He did well for the most part, but whenever he was struggling, he’d call on one of the older children to help him out. The scene was so sickeningly sweet.

And Logan- well nobody knew what he did. He spent most of his time hauled up in his room, and would rush out of the house at random hours and be gone from any time between forty minutes and a day. When asked what he was doing, he simply responded “work”, and retreated back to continue that. It seemed to be the only subject he wouldn’t lecture everybody about. The lead theory about his job was Roman’s, who believed him to be a spy. It was ridiculous of course, but the others had no proof against the claim to disprove it.

Virgil briefly, when delivering the message from Roman that dinner was ready, caught a glimpse of the inside of Logan’s room. As he’d expected, it looked like a science lab more than a home. The space was very impersonal. His walls were stark white and his bedsheets and curtains a dark blue, bordering black. A large bookcase sat next to his bed, filled to the brim with books. It was all extremely neat and precise. Except the desk. The desk was full of paper, strewn around like it had been hit with a small tornado- something very familiar to Virgil. He didn’t get a good look at anything specific Logan had been working on though, which left the work a mystery still to him, Roman and Patton.

Virgil’s work was a lot less interesting than Logan’s, as a barista at the local Starbucks. He hated it. The pay wasn’t great, he hated coffee, he had long hours and had to deal with rude people all day which left him too socially exhausted to do anything after work except eat the dinner than Patton forced upon him on the days he was there.

What Virgil really didn’t want to see when he got home- exhausted and in serious need of a nap- was a bunch of birds in the apartment, chirping at his brother, and his brother chirping back. Virgil really couldn’t deal with this today.

“Patton! What the hell?” Virgil scolded, quickly closing the door behind him, “What if Roman had come home, or Logan? How could you possibly explain this?”

“Hey, bad day at work?” Patton asked. He chirped something at the birds. They chirped back enthusiastically and flew through Roman’s room and out the window. Virgil relaxed a tiny bit.

Patton chuckled and put his arms up in defence, his attempt to change the subject clearly thwarted, “It’s okay, they’re friends of Margaret. Roman left for a manicure ten minutes ago, and Logan’s busy in his room.”

Virgil dropped his voice to a loud whisper, moving closer to Patton so he could hear him, “He’s inside the apartment?! What if he’d seen you? Or heard you?” Virgil’s mind was racing with all the ways that it could’ve possibly gone wrong.

“You know Logan, he doesn’t stop work for anything-” Patton started. Virgil internally screamed.

Suddenly Logan’s door swung open, “Is everyone alright? I heard yelling, and... Chirping?”

“Sorry we disturbed you, Lo, we’ll try keep it down.” Patton promised.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was just checking everybody was alright, and the chirping...?” Logan asked slowly. Patton and Virgil looked worriedly between each other. Logan continued, “Were you watching a nature documentary?”

Virgil visibly relaxed. He didn’t suspect anything.

“Actually, it was the sound of me tweeting.” Patton laughed. Virgil’s shoulders tensed. Whhhhy?

“Uh yeah, Patton has a custom sound when he tweets. It’s a bird sound because he’s tweeting.” Virgil recovered, sealing the deal with a completely unbelievable fake laugh. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Logan furrowed his eyebrows. There was no way he was buying it.

“Right. I must return to my work. If you do end up watching a nature documentary, please call me, the Discovery Channel is doing an intriguing piece on the kookaburra.” He said, walking back to his room. Virgil couldn’t believe he’d bought it. Had he bought it?

As soon as Logan was out of earshot, Virgil whispered, “How did he even hear us, we were whispering when he came out. Jeez, it’s like he’s got super hearing or something.” Patton gasped.

Virgil quickly said, “No. I was kidding. No.”

Patton pouted.

“Okay, I’m going to my room.” Virgil said, desperately needing a nap.

“Okay!” Patton agreed.

Virgil walked into his room, dodging the boxes be still hadn’t had the time to unpack, and fell onto his bed.

Patton followed and sat on the edge, “So, Margaret sent Michael to find-“ Virgil groaned and rolled into his back, “-the local birds that aren’t migrating this year, their friend has a hurt wing and they’re staying on our roof, so that we could meet them. She also wants to visit, as soon as she can get her kids to behave well enough to be this far into the city.” Patton finally paused to take a breath.

“Is Margaret the one that sat on my window and woke me up every morning?” Virgil asked.

“Yep!” Patton twirled himself around on the desk chair.

“And she had kids?��

“Yeah, how could you forget? We stayed up all night waiting for her eggs to hatch.” Patton said. The memory came flooding back to Virgil.

“Sorry, my brain’s a bit...” He trailed off, unsure what word would best describe the mental haze that seemed to lurk in his brain the past few days.

“Foggy? Cloudy? Misty?” Patton suggested. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do you think it’s because you haven’t been using-”

“You were saying about the birds.” Virgil interjected, hoping his subject change would go unnoticed. To his joy, it did.

“Right! So Michael also told the birds that they can come to us with any problems they have-“

Virgil mumbled, “Great.”

Patton ignored him, “-and so they came to ask for help.”

Virgil sighed, there was no way he was going to get a peaceful night. He sat up in his bed, “Fine. What’s the problem?”

“There’s a snake trying to take over their habitat.” Patton said calmly.

“That’s snakey.”

Patton’s head shot up, Virgil had made a pun!

Virgil lay back down in his bed, “Forget I said that. What exactly do the birds want us to do?” He asked, already knowing the answer but praying for another one.

Patton offered no such solution, “They want us to talk to the snake and ask him to move.”

“Pat, come on, it could be dangerous. What if it’s poisonous? What if it attacks” Virgil said as his brain supplied him with all the possible solutions for what could go wrong. Gosh, he loved being him.

“Then you’ll save us.” Patton said with one hundred per cent certainty. Virgil wasn’t so sure.

“Snakes can strike really quickly, what if I’m too slow or it bites me first and then you. Nobody would find us.” He said solemnly.

“Why don’t we ask Logan about poisonous snakes?" Patton asked.

Virgil wanted to say, ‘Are you crazy?’, then realised that would be completely insensitive. He felt bad for even thinking it. Instead he settled for, “That’s too conspicuous, Pat.”

Virgil must’ve spent too long thinking about what he was going to say, because before he could talk Patton down, he was gone.

Virgil heard the sound of knocking and ran out of his room. Logan opened his door.

“Have you decided to watch a documentary?” Logan asked.

“Aw, not yet, sorry,” Patton said. Logan’s face dropped a little, “But we were wondering if you could tell us anything about how to tell if a snake is poisonous or not.”

Logan sighed, “Well I assume that you mean venomous. Poison is ingested, unless you plan to eat the snake, which is, of course, delicacy in some cultures,” Virgil and Patton both looked disgusted. Logan guessed that this meant they wanted to know about venomous snakes, “Alright then. You can usually identify them by the shape of their head. Venomous snakes tend to have broader heads and skinnier necks. Their snouts are also pointier. If you can get closer to the snake, which I wouldn’t recommend unless you are sure it is not dangerous, you will see that they have heat sensitive pads and their eyes are elliptical rather than circular.”

Patton looked back at Virgil where he leant on his bedroom doorframe. He shrugged.

“Uh, could you possibly draw that please?” Patton asked.

Logan nodded, “I suppose. I am not an excellent artist but I can probably show you the basic ideas.” He walked into his room to retrieve some paper and a pen. While he routed through his disaster of a desk, he said, “May I ask why you’re inquiring bout venomous snakes?”

Patton laughed nervously, “Well a little birdy told me that there was a snake on our roof.”

Virgil ignored pun. “On the roof? How did it get up there?!” He exclaimed.

“Large birds of prey often eat snakes. Perhaps this one escaped its captor.” Logan suggested. Finally he found some paper. He walked out of his room and closed the door.

“If there is indeed a snake on the roof like your confidant said, the proper protocol would be to contact the landlord. Then he may contact an exterminator if that is necessary.” Logan said, but he started drawing a diagram of a venomous snake anyway.

Virgil knew Patton would decline, he hated exterminators with a passion. It was one of the very few things he actually hated.

Just as Virgil had had known he would, Patton declined.

“I don’t want to bother them unless we have to.” He said, shaking his head. Virgil doubted he’d call in the authorities even if the snake bit him. His compassion was really going to be his downfall.

Logan considered for a moment, “Alright,” he agreed, “But I beg you remember that even non-venomous snakes can bite. I think it would be best if I went with you so that I could identify it or remove it. ”

Finally Virgil piped into the conversation, worried that Patton would accept Logan’s offer. As much as he wanted an expert- or whatever Logan was- to identify the snake, he couldn’t risk Patton’s cover being blown.

“No thanks. We don’t want to bother you working. I’m sure your drawing will be fine, and I’m sure I can remove the snake without being bitten.” He said.

Logan sighed. “If you’re sure.” He said, handing his drawing to Patton. Virgil walked next to him to see the drawing. Logan really hadn’t been being modest when he said he wasn’t a great artist.

“Wow Logan, this is really...” Patton tried to think of a suitable compliment about the drawing.

“You don’t have to try and compliment me. I am aware that my drawing skills are subpar and can tell when you are lying.” Logan said. Virgil really hoped the last bit wasn’t true.

“...Helpful!” Patton beamed.

Logan smiled slightly, then coughed and reclaimed his usual stoic expression.

“Thank you.” He said, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Right well we best be off- dangerously high roofs to be on, possibly venomous snakes to extract, ya know.”

“I best get back to my work.” Logan said, turning back towards his room. He paused, “Text if you need me.” He closed his door.

“So how are we going to get onto the roof then?”

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Taglist: lmaoooo as if

Chapter 1:

Chapter 3:

(^idk how to link stuff in the nice, wordy way)

#the storm that's brewing #tstb #tstb chapter 2 #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #how do you link stuff nicely??

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dangertronic · 6 years

Text

Since Ao3 wants to be a bitch today. Here is the Stenbrough request for one darling @agrimny

Treat as super secret bonus chapter to Not A Monster that just focuses on these guys.

Date Night

Living in a closed minded town such as Derry did not leave a same-sex couple much choice in dates, and Stan absolutely hated it. He could not, no matter how hard he tried, understand just how what he felt for Bill was wrong, but according to ninety-percent of Derry that’s exactly what it was.

Not that he let that bother him.

The small ten percent of people who didn’t care about who he was attracted to were the only ones that mattered, so they were the only ones he ever needed to talk to about it.

Though sometimes he wondered how Richie and Eddie made it through an entire school day without touching each other or kissing, because sometimes Stan wanted nothing more than to be able to hold Bill’s hand walking to classes like he saw other couples do.

“It’s all about discretion, Staniel!” Richie had said one day when Stan had asked him about it.

They were standing on the bleachers of the football field, Richie sitting on the bar of the fence that lined the top of them with a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he watched the football team training.

“You just gotta…” Richie shifted the cigarette to corner of his mouth, far away from Stan. “Okay so like, you’re in the cafeteria sitting together at the table, yeah? And it’s perfectly normal and okay to do that because friends sit together so you just gotta slide your hand under the table and rest it on theirs, or on a leg. Discretion, Stan my man! You have to find the little things you can do in-between the moments you can ravage either other!”

“Do you have to be gross about this?”

Richie raised his hands in defence while simultaneously taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, it helps. Especially in this backwards fucking close minded town.”

“Yeah… so… what about…” Stan paused, seeming unable to say the word, his attention still fixed on the field where Mike had just performed the most brutal tackle he’d ever seen him do.

The person on the receiving end of the tackle, Charlie, was limping off the field while laughing and giving Mike a thumbs up to assure him that he was okay.

Richie cocked a brow, removing the cigarette from his mouth and delicately tapping a single finger against it to remove the excess ash from the tip. “Dates, Staniel? Well… let me tell you, that one was the hard part for a while but… movie theatres are pretty dark, you know?”

Stan glanced to Richie, arching a brow. “If you make this disgusting –”

Richie chuckled, placing his hands onto the bar either side of his legs before sliding off. “Staniel.” He stressed, pressing his hand to Stan’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “They’re dark and people can’t see if you sit too close if you’re in the right place, or if you’re holding hands. It’s the ideal secret date.”

“You didn’t make it disgusting. I’m impressed.”

Richie took a bow. “You’re welcome Staniel! Cleaned it up just for your sensitive little ears, I did!”

Stan shoved Richie who let out a chuckle before he started his descent down the bleachers, long legs making the step across each bench easy.

Didn’t he know how to use stairs?

Friday nights had quickly become Bill and Stan’s date nights.

They would eat dinner at home and then spin some lie about studying or hanging out with the whole group before heading into the main part of town to the movie theatre to see whatever movie was currently playing; not that they ever paid much attention to it.

This Friday, however, was different.

With their upcoming senior exams a couple of weeks away, Stan was pretty much on lockdown because of his parents, studying late into the night to try and retain some kind of information, which put a large dent in what little time he was actually able to spend with Bill.

He hated it.

It was around one in the morning when a noise at the window startled Stan, who had been sitting on his bed surrounded by an array of text books.

“H-how the fuck does Ruh-Richie do this?”

Stan couldn’t help the smile that came to his mouth, dropping his pen onto his notebook as he looked up at the open window. “Are you kidding me, Bill? We all know Richie built like a damn spider.”

There was a grumble outside on the garage roof that stretched out under his window, and then Bill was there, slinging one leg into the room. Stan raised a brow as he caught sight Bill, half in his bedroom window with a paper bag hanging from his mouth from the local fast food place, complete with a drink in each hand.

“Do you –”

Bill shook his head before Stan could finish. “Igotit.”

Finally managing to plan his foot onto Stan’s floor, Bill steadied himself and swung his other leg into the room, twisting his body as he did so he didn’t somehow manage to topple back out of the window.

Once safely inside Stan’s room, Bill stood and crossed the space between the window and the bed, holding one of the drinks out to him. Stan took the Styrofoam cup from Bill, allowing him to remove the paper bag from his mouth.

“Eh-Eddie said you’ve been driving yourself insane studying until two in the morning.” Bill said, nudging some of Stan’s books aside with his knee and taking a seat on the bed. “I thought I’d come keep you company since it is technically our date night.”

“And this?” Stan asked, shaking the cup.

“One struh-strawberry milkshake.” Bill dropped the bag onto Stan’s open history book. “And food because I’m pretty sure you keep forgetting to eat when you’re in study mode.”

Stan smiled, and Bill saw the all too familiar fond look that Stan gave him at times like this; when Bill showed just how well he knew him because he was so damn attuned to him after all these years.

“Thanks Bill.”

Bill returned the smile with a grin. “Nuh-no problem. Now take a break and eat before I fuh-force feed you.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll take a break.” Stan chuckled, closing his notebook and moving it to the side while Bill opened the bag to distribute the food between them.

They were silent while they ate. Stan hated the sound of someone eating and talking at the same time, something he often berated Richie for doing, and was thankful that Bill wasn’t like him. Bill chewed slowly and carefully, looking down at the open text book that was upside down in front of him.

He swallowed, taking a quick sip of his own milkshake before glancing up at Stan. “So do you reh-reh-really need six books open at once?”

Stan shrugged, balling up the wrapper that had been around his burger before tossing it into empty paper bag. “Probably not, but I take breaks from one thing and study another for a while. It helps information from the previous thing sink in better… or so I’m told.”

“Suh-sounds like something Ruh-Richie would tell someone.” Bill commented, scrunching up his own wrapper and dropping it into the bag. “I miss our night, you know.”

“Me too, Bill.” Stan sighed, adjusting his position slightly.

Hunching over the books had really done a number on him, and he supposed it was his own fault for locking himself in his room between the hours of four and two while he killed his brain with his studies.

“Tha-that’s why I came over. That and tuh-to make sure you’re actually eating.”

Bill saw the fond look return to Stan’s face before he spoke. “I appreciate it, a lot, though I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner.”

“Duh-didn’t wanna bother you. I know this is important.”

Stan frowned, his brows furrowing before he leaned over to place his drink onto the nightstand next to his alarm clock. “You know, Bill, you’re hardly Richie who is loud and distracting. You could have come over at any time. Just because I’m on lockdown doesn’t mean I can’t have study partners, or did Eddie neglect to mention that since he was here just two days ago?”

Bill snorted, leaning back on the bed. “Eh-Eddie’s brain is either oh-on stuh-studying or Ruh-Richie.”

Stan chuckled, reaching over and starting to close his textbooks. “True. It’s a little worrying sometimes.”

“Yeah it – what are you doing?”

“Getting rid of these books.” Stan said as though it were obvious, stacking the books one by one into arms as he closed them. “They’re all over the place if you didn’t notice.”

“Yuh-you don’t need to stop juh-just cause I’m here.”

Stan smiled, leaning over the bed to place the books onto the floor. “I want to. I’ve been studying for hours, Bill, and it’s rude to ignore a guest unless that guest is Richie.”

“He been annoying you again?”

Stan rolled his eyes, dropping onto the bed with his head in Bill’s lap. “He’s loud and hasn’t mastered to art of sneaking into my window. He kind of just… topples in every damn day.”

Bill smiled, reaching out and running his fingers through Stan’s hair. “He’s coming over here a lot?”

Stan nodded, rolling onto his back to look up at Bill. “Eddie is getting a little testy. Everyone is, actually. Richie said that Eddie’s been getting snappy at him more than usual and that Jess and Lucille had an argument one night because they’re so tense. I hate finals.”

Bill’s other hand joined the first on Stan’s hair, and Bill enjoyed the way Stan relaxed under his touch, a small content smile on his face as his eyes closed. “You don’t seem testy.”

Stan chuckled sleepily. “It’s probably because I’ve been avoiding everyone during my study hours.”

“Except Ruh-Richie.” Bill said, amusement in his voice.

“He breaks into my room Bill!” Stan practically whined, throwing his arms up into the air. “He wakes me up and then topples into the room! He paces around like some kind of malevolent gremlin and vents! Then he topples back out of the room!”

“Huh-how has he not broken a leg?”

“I don’t know, but next time he comes into this room after midnight I’m breaking one for him. He’s taking advantage of this warmth forcing me to keep my window open.” Stan huffed, dropping his hands to his stomach. “I hate it.”

Bill smiled and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of Stan’s nose. “I’m guh-gonna get you a fuh-fan so you can lock your window at night.”

“I’d like that… a lot.”

“Okay, so we’ll get you a fan.” Bill said, pressing another kiss to Stan’s nose.

“Thanks Bill.” Stan said, shifting to lie more comfortably on the bed. “You know, this isn’t our usual Date Night but… I’m really enjoying it.”

“Muh-me too Stan.”

“Stay?”

Bill smiled again, moving to awkwardly kiss Stan in their position. “Shu-sure thing. I’ll stay.”

#stenbrough #request #leighwritesathing #i'll try and add a link when ao3 wants to be nice to me again #stanley uris #stan uris #bill denbrough

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louisfeatharry · 7 years

Photo

* newly added fics to my fic rec page as of 10/04/17 (30 fics in total) all fics are larry unless specified otherwise • more recent recs

✨ indicates favorites of mine!

a love like legend by butterflylungs (2k) [au, ou, soulmates, angst]

Harry and Louis are soulmates destined to lose each other.

All this Delusion in our Heads by mmaree (30k) [ziam, au, amnesia, neighbors/roommates, exes to lovers, angst]

the one where Zayn contracts amnesia, Liam has regrets, and the entire universe conspires against them…until it doesn’t.

✨ cupid’s defence by rhuubarb (116k) [au, fantasy & supernatural, slow burn, fluff]

In which Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they're all getting sued.

Even When We Fight by threeturn (30k) [lirry, au, university AU, enemies to lovers]

University AU. Liam's the star of the debating society until Harry shows up and steals the spotlight. Meanwhile, Niall's in love, Zayn lives while he's young, and Louis looks after his friends.

✨ Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is a Brand New Start by Rearviewdreamer (57k) [au, hurt/comfort, kid fic, secret relationship, angst]

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

Golden Like Sands of Time by afirethatcannotdie (51k) [au, summer, fluff]

AU. Harry and Zayn are spending the summer on an island, and there's a plethora of booze and bonfires and boys. Or in Harry's case, just one boy.

Green Eyes (I’d Run Away With You) by salem (31k) [lirry, au, university AU]

After a frenzied party results in an accidental switch up of phones, Liam and Harry welcome each other temporarily into their lives as they casually chat about meeting up to switch back. It’s not hard to get to know each other while they wait, but when what should have been an innocent blip in each of their lives turns into months of endless texting, meddlesome friends, pot noodles, too much Shakespeare, and plenty of confusions, their feelings are put to the test.

Heaven’s Just Begun by sweetlullabies (35k) [au, fluff]

Harry is wholly convinced he's quite literally a sad excuse for a young adult, but this doesn't seem to stop the "boy next door" from developing the world's biggest crush on him.

✨ Hiding Out in the Kitchen by LittleMousling (28k) [au, famous/nonfamous, coming out, friends to lovers, fluff]

Harry's in an internationally famous boyband with his three best mates, he gets laid on a pretty regular basis, and he's headed to Australia in a week. He doesn't need anything else, and he certainly doesn't need a boyfriend. If this nice guy he met in a coffeeshop wants to date him, great—but that's all it is. Right?

✨ Homegrown by casuallyhl (51k) [au, friends to lovers, fluff]

a gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.

It’s All Brand New Because of You by supernope (16k) [au, summer, fluff]

Louis starts a new job as a summer camp counselor at the local aquarium and Harry is a biologist who really likes teaching people about the ocean.

left all the stars in your city nights by petals (23k) [lirry, au, university AU, secret relationship, coming out]

“He’s got a roommate?” Niall asks, frowning.

“Yeah, but he usually only hangs out with grad students. I mean, it’s a smart plan all things considered. I think there’s like a rule that all graduate students have to TA, so like, it probably helps him with his grades or something. I don’t know. I’ve met him a few times but Zayn swears he’s great," Louis explains.

Liam nods, taking another drink from his glass, turning in time to see Zayn. He smiles at him but his smile falls immediately when Harry steps out from behind him, standing there smirking at Liam. He remembers him, obviously. They just fucked last night.

Fuck.

Liam’s screwed.

living love in slow motion by jmcats (39k) [ziam, au, growing up together, friends to lovers, pining, coming out, fluff]

they've been tucked into each other's side since they were five years old... and Liam's been a little in love with that and much more since then

Manifest Destiny by Anonymous (15k) [au, historical, friends with benefits, fluff]

Louis is a Pony Express rider and Harry runs a station along the trail.

never mind the odds (i’m gonna try my luck) by spit_on_me_larry (64k) [au, enemies to lovers, pining]

Louis Tomlinson is going to be the journalistic voice of his generation. He’s just waiting for his editor to realize it. For now, he’s stuck writing fluff pieces for the Life and Style section of London Now Newspaper.

His latest assignment is more of the same rubbish: a profile of Harry Styles, plastic surgeon and one of London’s most eligible bachelors. Louis is intent on writing something smart and biting and unexpected; if it makes Harry look like an idiot, that’s just the price of good journalism. That is, until Louis gets to know Harry and realizes he might be kind of perfect.

Featuring Louis as a writer/workaholic, Harry as a plastic surgeon with a heart of gold, Zayn and Niall as Louis’ colleagues and long-suffering best mates, and Liam as everyone’s favorite pediatric surgeon and Harry’s right-hand man.

No Place Without You by fackinglouis (19k) [au, neighbors/roommates, pining, university AU]

Harry's in love with life and he's in love with the world.

Louis' in love with Harry and he doesn't think there's anyway he can possibly compete.

A Wanderlust AU in which Harry doesn't have a permanent home and stays with Louis when he visits NYC.

Pyar dhosti hai (Love is friendship) by backonefish (39k) [au, road trip & travel, angst, pining, fluff, friends to lovers]

When Zayn and Harry's thesis project hits a snag, they feel a bit hopeless. Liam's just gotten out of a relationship. Louis is stuck wondering if Harry will ever open his eyes. And Niall's still searching.

This is a story of love and friendship. Of five boys who travel to India on a quest to find themselves and each other.

Ridiculous by scottmcniceass (24k) [ziam, au, high school AU, enemies to lovers, neighbors/roommates]

They are every cliched high school story. The jock and the rebel. The popular boy and the outsider. They shouldn't fit, and they definitely shouldn't work, but they sort of do anyways.

Sonnets Behind the Flame by jmcats (55k) [au, high school AU, road trip & travel, enemies to lovers]

Liam has been anticipating a weekend away at Louis' family's cabin for years. It's nothing but wilderness, bonfires, football, his best mates, alcohol, and an escape from their last year in Sixth Form. Oh, and Niall has invited Harry Styles and Zayn Malik along. The same Zayn who's a complete prick to Liam's mates. The same Zayn that Liam has spent so many years hating, he doesn't know the reasons anymore.

Suddenly, Liam doesn't think this is such a brilliant idea after all.

The Summertime, The Butterflies, All Belong To Your Creation by PumpkinspiceLou (11k) [au, kid fic, fluff]

When Louis decides to help out a lost little girl at the park, he never expected it would lead him to finding his home.

these wings (are made to fly) by orphan_account (35k) [au, friends to lovers, pining, fluff]

Despite the fact that he’s good at his job, Louis’ problem is that he’s constantly on the move and puts everyone else’s needs before his own. Add probationary crew member Harry Styles into the mix, and Louis is definitely in trouble. Flight attendant AU, minus the mile high club.

this relationship we’re staging by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (44k) [au, pining, fluff]

West End AU in which Louis is a former Royal Shakespeare Company actor looking for his way back to the top, Harry is an actor best known for his work in unknown bits of experimental theatre and being the darling of London's new age theatre scene, and Simon Cowell is the renowned director who brings the two of them together.

to feel your heart as it’s keeping time by wearecities (36k) [lirry, au, bakery AU, fluff]

Harry owns a bakery, Niall and Louis are sickeningly in love, Zayn hates clip-art and Liam’s the only one that laughs at Harry’s jokes.

✨ Two Steps Behind by sacredheart (38k) [au, growing up together, high school AU, pining, fluff, angst]

Louis is two years younger than his neighbors, Harry, Liam, Niall, and Zayn, and he grows up bending over backwards to get their attention and acceptance. Especially Harry's.

✨ we may fall (but we get up again) by jmcats (58k) [ziam, au, weddings, movie AU, enemies to lovers, fluff]

a 27 Dresses AU where Liam is everyone's favorite best man and he just might be madly in love with his boss ... and maybe with an arrogant writer who hates weddings as much as Liam loves them, too

we were boxing the stars by justaboat (30k) [lirry, au, university AU, sports, summer, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, pining]

au. liam and harry play football and their feelings have a bad habit of getting in the way.

✨ what this world is about by isntrio (34k) [au, high school AU, secret relationship, historical/past setting, angst]

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

wild card (nobody, nobody) by dramaturgicallycorrect (30k) [lirry, au, sports, movie AU, sports, fluff]

Harry is Britain’s Best Chance and Liam is a wild card at the Championships, Wimbledon.

you could be my cure by jmcats (41k) [ziam, au, university AU, fluff, prose]

Nothing about Zayn is traditional, especially not the way he falls in love with Liam, or everything before and after that

Yours Faithfully, Friend by badjujuboo (20k) [lirry, au, famous/nonfamous, exes to lovers, pining]

Small gigs turned into larger ones, radio interviews turned into playing on Chatty Man and that Irish program where Niall was treated like a superstar. It got to the stage where even Liam couldn't remember the last full week he'd spent in their home. Harry tried to be there, but it wasn't as if he could come out to every show. The last few times when he would have been able to because they were playing close, Harry'd had exams and Liam understood why Harry couldn'tcome along. He did. Even if it hurt to look up and not see Harry mouthing along to the words, doing his dumb dance moves at the front of the crowd. He just wanted Harry to himself, was all. It was irrational to be annoyed that Harry couldn't be there all the time, no matter how much Liam wanted him to be.

Love is easy, relationships are not. Somewhere along the line, Liam forgot that.

#recentrecs #so there's a good mix of a different pairings in here #i was feeling lirry and ziam for a hot sec #so you'll see a lot of that #but there's still a ton of larry up in here #also i'm always shamelessly promoting my rec page #because i put so much hard work into it lmfao

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tinypeckers · 7 years

Text

Ticket Outta Loserville (4/?)

Pairing(s): Gavin Free/Michael Jones (Mavin)

Words: 1,436

Summary: Michael Jones really, really hates Geoff Ramsey and the rest of his popular gang. Will that change after Michael finds himself going on a date with Gavin?

AO3

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Michael was awoken by an incredible pressure against his bladder. He wanted to just roll back over and sleep but his body wasn’t about to let him. It was sleep and piss the bed or get up, piss and get back to bed. Michael, like many people, preferred dry sheets when sleeping. He cracked one eye open only to be met with darkness. His arm fell away from his face and then there was light. The light assaulted him like a knight assaulted a tower. It broke through his sleep-fuelled defence and brought with it the start of a hangover. Michael groaned and hit the mattress beside him. He forgot the pain in his head when his hand started to throb.

“What the fuck?” He looked past his hand to see Kerry lifting his head from where it had been laying against Michael’s stomach. Kerry rubbed his own head.

“Dude, why’d you do that? My head already hurts.” Kerry let his head drop once more, nuzzling into Michael’s t-shirt and pushing it up just slightly.

Michael shoved him off, leaping from his bed. He tugged his shirt down to cover the slither of skin Kerry had revealed. He glared down at his friend. Kerry acted as though his personal person pillow hadn’t been ripped out from under him. He rolled onto his back laying horizontally across the bed. He stretched out across the sheets, yawning as though he lived there.

“Why are you in my bed?” Michael shifted from foot to foot. It felt as though all the liquid in his body had travelled south and now he really, really needed to pee. But first he had to deal with Kerry.

“You said I could crash here last night, remember?” Kerry rubbed at his eyes. Michael chewed upon his lip. He didn’t remember too much about last night, not after Andy took his shirt off. He liked to think he’d chosen to forget the rest of that debacle.

“Yeah, right – sure. Just, lay the right way shitbag.” Michael hurried towards the hallway.

“But I’m comfy!” Kerry argued but Michael was already out of the door.

Michael kept at least one eye closed at one time, alternating between the two as he shuffled into the bathroom. His mom loved to bathe the house in natural light and right now Michael hated it. He shut the door behind him and only just remembered to put the toilet seat up. He let his head hang back as he pissed away the booze from last night. Michael thought about the party, how it had totally sucked until… until the popular kids showed up. Michael swallowed. Gavin Free had been at that party. Michael shook his head. There was something nagging at him, something about Gavin. Had he said something to him? Had Gavin called him out yet again in front of a party full of people? No, that wasn’t it. Michael had gone up to him, that’s right. He’d said something. Had he yelled at him? Called him names? No, Michael couldn’t quite put his finger on it…

Michael’s head snapped upright as he realised what had happened last night. He remembered that their group had played truth or dare, that Ray had wet the bed when he was twelve and worst of all, he remembered what Andy had done once his shirt was off. Then there was what he had done. He shook a couple of times and pulled his pyjama pants back up. He didn’t flush the toilet or wash his hands with that new fancy soap his mom had just recently bought. Michael yanked open the bathroom door and rushed back into the hallway. He barely thought about the harsh light as he ran towards his bedroom. By the time he’d thrown open the door, Michael was short on breath and only a little dizzy.

“Kerry!” Michael yelled.

Kerry leapt out of his skin. He’d been standing in the corner of Michael’s room, fingers caressing a Banjo figure Michael kept there. He’d knocked it over when he’d jumped. Michael forgot last night’s dilemma for a moment as he crowded into Kerry’s space.

“I-I was only looking, I-I swear.” Kerry held his hands up defensively. Michael picked the figure up and set it up. He took a moment to look at his collection, both to admire it and to check that Kerry hadn’t fucked up anything else. Everything was where it should be. His Banjo and Kazooie figurines stood proudly in front of the poster Michael had acquired from a comic con past. He even had figures of the other characters like Gruntilda, Tooty, Bottles and his favourite Mumbo Jumbo. They were all in their rightful place, nestled amongst the wooden jiggy he’d made in shop class and the little playdoh jinjo figures his mom had made for him.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Michael muttered.

“Sorry, I was only looking.” Kerry took a step away from it regardless. “You really scared me.” Kerry rubbed at his arm. Michael rolled his eyes at him. Kerry looked pathetic wearing the clothes he’d worn the night before. His jaw had started to bruise and now he had a matching one blossoming on his forehead where Michael had hit him. His eyes were bloodshot and sporting matching bags.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I scared myself,” Michael laughed. “I had this dream where I asked Gavin Free out. Crazy, right?” Michael ran his hand through his hair. That was what it must have been. It had to have been a dream, not a memory.

“You did ask him out and he said yes, don’t you remember? It’s why we even did shots in the first place.” Kerry shivered at the thought. After the third he’d puked on Matt’s carpet and they’d tried to clean it with one of Matt’s mom’s little cushions she decorated the couch with. He still felt bad.

“Yeah, right, yeah I remember. He was probably joking, wasn’t he?” Michael walked back to his bed.

He wanted to face plant into it and forget that last night had even happened. Michael was distracted by his phone as it lit up underneath his sheets. He’d missed a few calls from Lindsay and there were a couple of texts from Ray, mostly berating Michael for being a total drunk dick the night before. Michael forgot all about them when he saw that he had a facebook message.

Gavin Free: Hi, I forgot to give u my address last nite. Oh, n u can have my number too ;) ;) xoxo

“I guess he was serious.” Michael said. He skim read the address, he knew roughly where Gavin Free lived thanks to the kids at school who boasted about the parties there. Michael had never been personally invited. His thumb lingered over Gavin’s number. It prompted a menu that asked whether Michael wanted to save the number. Michael added it to his contacts under ‘that asshole Gavin’.

“Are you going to do it?” Kerry sat down on Michael’s bed. He flopped down against the screwed up sheets. His arms spread wide across the bed and took up more room than Kerry deserved. Michael nudged one of his arms away and laid down too. He sighed heavily.

“Where would I even take him? He’s used to fancy restaurants and shit. That’s just not in my budget, man.” Michael barely earned enough to buy things for himself.

“Well, you could make a picnic or something and take him to that drive-in theatre. I hear they’re playing The Room tomorrow.” Kerry picked at the thread of Michael’s sheets.

“The Tommy Wiseau movie?” Michael slapped Kerry’s hand away.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s like only five bucks a ticket.”

Michael mulled it over. He could do that, it would be pretty cheap. He could just make them some sandwiches using the stuff Michael had at home. He knew he had a few ciders hidden in the back of his closet to make sure the night wasn’t totally lame.

“I can’t,” he declared. “My car is a piece of shit and it hasn’t been cleaned in months.”

“So borrow Lindsay’s, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Kerry said.

“Should I really do it?” Michael turned to face his friend. Kerry smiled and then shrugged.

“It won’t hurt, right? He’s the one that reminded you, so he must actually want to do it. Besides, like I said – you’re gay, he’s gay. It’s a match made in heaven.” This time, Michael made sure to smack him directly across his jaw. Still, Kerry had a point. One date wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

#mavin #ragehappy #fanfic #series #tolv

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bluewatsons · 7 years

Conversation

Ben Isaacs, Interview: James Ellroy, ShortList (2014)

Ben Isaacs: What have you been doing since your last book, the autobiographical Hilliker Curse, was published in 2010?

James Ellroy: I have a second career writing movies that don’t get made and TV shows that don’t get picked up. I want to write a Scotland Yard movie, but I don’t know the nomenclature. I’m considering spending some more time in Britain. But would I be confounded by the left-hand drive again? I once drove over the border into Scotland and kept clipping fence posts. Fucking nightmare. But I’m thinking of coming over to London – in winter, when it’s cold.

Ben Isaacs: We could do a house swap.

James Ellroy: Where do you live?

Ben Isaacs: Bromley in south London. I’m not sure you’d like it. It’s suburban.

James Ellroy: [Carefully looks around the diner] I hate hipsters, I hate liberals, I hate rock’n’rollers, I hate the counter-culture, I hate movie people. I want to go somewhere quiet, peaceful and decorous, and be radical in my mind. I have fatuous American ideas about Britain. I want to go to the moors. I want to buy a shotgun from Purdey for a lot of money, but I understand it’s tough to buy a gun – you can’t just walk in and say, “I’m an American, give me that gun.” British people are the best readers. They speak the same language, but view the material as foreigners. There’s no class distinction for readers there. They ask the best questions and you can talk to them afterwards and go to an Indian restaurant.

Ben Isaacs: What can you tell us about your new project, the second LA Quartet?

James Ellroy: I’m about to finish the first volume, called Perfidia – my biggest book – which will be published in Britain this fall. The new quartet takes characters both fictional and real, major and minor, from the first quartet and the trilogy, but places them in LA during the Second World War. It’s the month of Pearl Harbor, 6-29 December 1941. It seamlessly takes the quartet and trilogy, adds four novels, and makes my oeuvre as a historical novelist one inextricable 11-novel whole. And although the story is very much about the injustice of the internment of the Japanese – most of them innocent – let me say, and this is very un-PC, the fucking internment was not the Holocaust or the Soviet Gulag.

Ben Isaacs: Will people disagree with that?

James Ellroy: I don’t think they’d like my tone. But the book takes a theme I first got hip to thanks to Skyfall. It’s fucking brilliant and it’s the only profound James Bond movie. They’re usually boring and overlong; the books are boring and racist. The stories are shoddy and sloppily plotted. But Skyfall is about the defence of the West, and that’s what the series is about. I also want to write an espionage trilogy set immediately after the Second World War called the Red Alert Trilogy. Churchill predicted the Iron Curtain and Soviet aggression, and thought we should go into Russia while they were weak after the Second World War. In hindsight, he was right.

Ben Isaacs: How do you feel about Obama?

James Ellroy: I hate him. I think he’s a coward, incompetent and I find him sinister. He’s the face of cancerous socialism under the guise of benevolence. His wife going on the Academy Awards by remote hook-up made them come across like Soviet apparatchiks. However, I don’t have a TV, cellphone or internet and I find the world untenable. I’m a big Tory. Big. Tory. There’s also a part of me that loves to say, “Fuck you, I’m a Republican.” I’m a Thatcherite and a Reaganite.

Ben Isaacs: OK. You don’t have a TV, but some say that medium is now better at telling stories than films. Will you ever write a TV drama?

James Ellroy: This is where my TV paycheques have come of late – people wanting to make an Ellroy TV show. I like the form, in fact I love the form. I watch TV shows at a friend’s house most Friday nights. I think Deadwood and Mad Men were intermittently quite wonderful, but often shoddy and veered into incoherence. I saw one or two episodes of The Wire and thought it was bullshit. Bad writing. And I have no sympathy for the underclass. I was hired to adapt LA Confidential for TV last summer, but it didn’t sell. I also came up with a TV show about the private eye Fred Otash. The cable channel FX paid me, and dumped it. We have an actor attached now and we’re putting the script out again. I‘d love to put my stamp on this form of drama if I could control it to the most minute level.

Ben Isaacs: How do you write?

James Ellroy: I have a strange writing schedule now. I go to bed at 8pm, wake up between 1.45 and 2.30am and work for three or four hours, then go back to sleep, then write again in the afternoon. I know how to exploit what’s been given to me--early parental dysfunction, my mother’s murder, all my crazy shit. The most startling moment I’ve had as an artist was in New York in 1985 while writing The Black Dahlia, and in a heartbeat the structural entirety of LA Confidential came to me. I then realised that whatever I could conceive, I could execute. So I’ve executed ever more grandly throughout my career. The books have become more emotionally accessible. In [2009 novel] Blood’s A Rover there’s more interior monologue, more sex shit, more love shit. There’s even more of that in the novel I’m finishing now. Anyway, I need to go back to bed now. What are your plans for tomorrow?

Ben Isaacs: Nothing concrete until about 4pm…

James Ellroy: In that case, I’ll meet you back here at noon, after I’ve been to church, and we will continue. Don’t worry about the check, I’ve got this. And, whatever you do, don’t try getting a bus anywhere around here. Only a cab. And, like that, the interview is paused. Ellroy leaves a 50 per cent tip for the waitress and darts away. I was warned he was a difficult interviewee, so was prepared for that. I wasn’t quite ready for the journalistic equivalent of the girl who texts to ask when you’ll see her again after a first date. As I wait for a cab a woman approaches me. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I? You’re a producer. I saw you with James Ellroy. I’m an actress. Here’s my card. Call me.” Welcome to Hollywood. Less than 24 hours later I’m back in the diner. As I walk in he holds up an arm and says loudly, “Mr Isaacs!” Although I’m on time, he’s already eating. I order a sandwich he will eventually pay for, and get talking.

Ben Isaacs: You’ve said you’ll only write about LA now. What do you love about the city?

James Ellroy: My parents hatched me here. It’s a cool locale. As it happened, Raymond Chandler wrote about this place and preceded me. The likes of Double Indemnity were shot at Paramount – I grew up just south of there – and the movie features the market where I used to shoplift. My parents were quintessential LA arrivistes from the Midwest and East Coast. My mother was murdered here. Kevin Starr addressed the city from the left-hand side of the plate and viewed it as a dystopian nightmare, but I love this place. Now I live here because it’s where I come when women divorce me. The people I love are here, and I need to write movies and TV shows to earn a living. Plus, I love cars, girls and Mexican boxers. The winters here are great. My LA isn’t down and dirty. The fondness some people have for dives I don’t share. I can’t stand even a hint of discord or squalor. I’ve always preferred the more affluent parts of LA. I’ve always loved Beverly Hills. They used to have great movie theatres there when I was kid and you could lose yourself in a matinee.

Ben Isaacs: You set your Lloyd Hopkins Trilogy books in the modern day. Would you write a contemporary novel again?

James Ellroy: I don’t give a shit about the modern world. I was hassled by my agent to do it. I wanted to write third-person, multi viewpoint. I saw that I had to get to the historical novel – specifically The Black Dahlia. It allowed me to get to my work‘s major themes--the secret human infrastructure of big public events, and bad men in love with strong women.

Ben Isaacs: You sound like you’re thinking about your legacy…

James Ellroy: I’m very much doing that. I want to get my shit in line. In case I go to the doctor and he says, “Ellroy, you fucker, you’ve got six months to live.” I want to leave a great literary legacy. I will leave legal documents so no one can ever co-opt my characters or write an Ellroy knock-off book, like when Robert B Parker finished a Raymond Chandler novel. I came of age when being a writer was a big deal. Now everyone’s a writer, due to the internet. Half the people in LA are writing screenplays that’ll never get made. I want to secure my literary legacy despite being more and more flummoxed by cyberspace, the internet and the dissolution of the civil contract. That’s part of my reason for wanting to come to Britain – I’m hoping there’s a higher standard. You’re smiling, so I think you’re going to say no!

Ben Isaacs: Probably not as much as you’d like…

James Ellroy: They’re so sincere, wonderful, especially the working-class people. I stick around to be with them if I’ve got time. There’s just that it in Britain that you don’t see here. And dogs are treated well there. I had a dog gig when I was a writer in New York in the Eighties, working on Because The Night. For a few months I was the caretaker of a big snowbound estate in Rhinebeck; keep the heat on, chop wood once a week and finish my book.

Ben Isaacs: Wait, this isn’t going to be like The Shining is it?

James Ellroy: No. Shit no! [Laughs] I was looking after two Akita females. I took walks with them across golf courses in the snow, and urinated and defecated with them. We were a pack. I wasn’t the leader, but we slept together at night. If it was cold I’d call it ‘a two-dog night’. They’d growl at me if I got up to take a leak. Grr. It was like having two big, good-looking women fighting over me. So good. I love women and I love dogs. The potential nightmare for me is I go to Britain and all I see is like in LA; meth labs, white trash and women with tattoos.

#james ellroy #interviews #literature #crime noir #eccentrics

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worddonor · 7 years

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Full Circle

Back at one.

The past couple of months have been busier than usual. It’s been a mix of preparing for a trip to the States later this year, enjoying time with family and friends and getting sucked into some good reading that’s started the process of deep illumination regarding Scripture in my heart and mind. It feels like a lot has happened…I turned 30 this month, don’t feel a day over 20-something mentally lol, but physically I can say I’ve had better days (time to hit the gym for real this time bro). I was surprised with out-of-town family (and some province natives too) spending time with this ou over my birthday weekend – it was glorious…felt the love real deep.

Riding to work will be a lot quieter now though…before I would have cherished this time, but now that I’ve been exposed to interesting anecdotes from the days of others’ lives and subterranean conversation: I’ll miss being part of a lift club. Riding solo was never an issue before, but now I almost believe I’ll go crazy in my own mind – being surrounded by driven, talented and mostly normal human beings made me feel human too if only for 2 hours of my work day. It’s like I’m the man in the suit next to the revolving door greeting folk as they come in and go out. Every time someone leaves you’re forced to look in the mirror and ask yourself: am I still on track? Was there even a track to begin with? How did I end up here, still…having watched so many come in and go out as I look on – what am I doing with the time God’s allotted to me? Time is rushing by and I’m on the side of the road watching events unfold in the lives of others…though part of me is actually content to just stare…to sit there quiet, fading into the background so I can soak up this huge theatre that is life unfold for the actors and actresses before me…I, doing just enough to appear as if I have goals of my own, lol, so I can admire the professionals at work.

Truthfully, having some larger goal – even if it is just a trip to a place I’ve never been before – helps to keep the sadness at bay. No matter how epically (is that a word? it is now) defeating work might be and how immensely incapable of making sense of what I’m doing with my life at all is: the constant wisdom from the Lord through His word and the medium-term prize on the horizon softens the Monday punch to the gut to a light tickle. Normally I would go on about how useless I feel etc. etc. [don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel entirely useful YET], but today was a bit different…

I had a brief conversation with the petrol attendant filling up the vehicle I pilot to work with fuel – he spoke of the cold and the long hours, but then went on to say how grateful he is to have a job…he said we might complain, but there are always people who are worse off who don’t have jobs at all. He also shared how his lady at home called him on shift to tell him his child was sick, he told her there was nothing he could do at that point as it wasn’t the end of the month so there was no money for medicine for his child…all he could do was pray the Lord takes care of his child and so he prayed. He spoke more of how his lady didn’t seem to understand the long hours he works, the challenges he faces and the stresses that come with it. What stood out for me was what he said in between everything else, he mentioned the added stress of making mistakes and how it and working his particular job makes him feel useless at times – like he isn’t capable of taking care of his family. He spoke of dreaming about being able to afford decent education for his kids and a good place to stay, getting out of his situation and wishing it could all come true tomorrow when he woke up again. I can’t say I don’t feel like he does a lot of the time, I hate making mistakes – it compounds the useless feeling already ingrained in my mind…to hear someone else that also felt a bit defeated in that particular way surprised me a bit, I mean for some reason I thought most people were stubbornly sure of themselves even when they slipped up. I guess hearing honesty if only a sliver, even in a self-assured kind of way, was different and good before it started going down the road of bitterness at which point I had to leave to start the great trek north. I’m extremely grateful for my job and absolutely everything I’ve been blessed with and the amazing family I can call my own.

We need more honesty in this world. More ‘full disclosure’ without fear of decimation.

Having come to know someone the past few years whose honesty and openness was beyond anything I had ever seen before was eye-opening, here I was thinking I struggled to tell a lie. I met someone whose honesty and authenticity, in turn, opened people up like Ricoffy tins, no fuss. I watched countless times how defences fell away and relationships were built via the shortest route possible and I thought, jeez…how does this person do it? How can someone be so willing to share so much, beyond surface chatter – cutting straight to the deeper point without flinching, without worrying what the other person thought of them. This is how connections are made, proper earth lower-mantle-inner-core level bonds. This is how we are meant to communicate, not through the pictures we paint of ourselves all puffed up and proud at just the right angles, with just the right lighting on just the right day on social media. That twak is tiring. It’s also misleading: no-one is hot all the time. It takes courage though to share openly, especially if you’ve given out a lot before and have been left eating dirt…so bad, so sad – take a number and get in line fool.

If I’m honest, I have a temper – I’ve just been suppressing anger as far as possible in all areas of my life when in company, but alone I can “hak uit” every so often to let out some steam. Like they say, ‘depression is anger turned inward.’ Though I am honest with what I say, there’s a huge dissonance between most people’s perception of me and who I am inside – I think there were a few people I’ve come across in life who actually had a clue as to what I’m truly like other than immediate family and cousins. I’m sure it’s the same for many people out there in different ways. I do enjoy philosophical chats, the day-to-day stuff is laborious for me, though truthfully it’s more intimidating as there is no significant other in my life at present to quip about, I’m not staying in my own place, I forget details about things which kills conversations, neither am I pursuing any passions at present other than this ‘Dear Diary’ twaddle…who shares their journal entries?? Who would read my fiction if I wrote any?? Would it even be any good?? What do I write about?? I have no clue. Lord help me to string together some discipline to write something of value, pleeeeeaaaaasssseee. The true skill does though lay in turning the everyday into something interesting and tailoring it to your conversation partner/s, like TD Jakes says to not go on and on about your shortcomings, “manage it!” If you struggle with something, find a way to “manage it!” You feel a sigh coming on, “manage it!” I tend to get nervous about things quite easily and am poor under pressure…so what, “manage it!” Lol. One thing I’m pretty good at is picking out spelling errors and missing or incorrect information on stuff and I think being able to understand people and where they are coming from; when my head isn’t in the clouds my EQ is pretty decent I’d like to think.

Anyway, I digress once more.

In the Bible it says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it,” (Proverbs 4:23 NIV) but it doesn’t mean what we tend to think it does, which is to close it off from being hurt by holding everything vulnerable behind a locked door – this also keeps all potential good from coming in. What it actually means is to prevent your heart from becoming bitter and hard from being closed off by keeping it open and supple – ready to take punches, bouncing back and then standing upright ready to receive hugs and give hugs immediately after. Ja, I’ll miss the refreshing honesty, hopefully my subconscious took notes and will begin to apply it to my daily life – bravery needs to come forth and stand, pride must fall man.

So again in 2017, as I began in 2013, I’m back with my thoughts and the open road – though I’m well aware I’m never alone. My journey toward purpose and my calling continues. I think the Lord’s been trying to tell me I need to be obedient first, as He says, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. THEN [emphasis added] you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2 NIV) So I’ve been gaining wisdom through His word and the books I’ve been reading, namely: “Life Overflowing” by TD Jakes, “What is God’s Will for my Life?” by John Ortberg and completed just yesterday: “Driven by Eternity” by John Bevere (what an excellent message on finding and doing what you’re called by God to do and not just doing good as we all will be called to account for what we were called to do with our time here on Earth at the judgment seat). I’m trying at present to read verses in the Bible every day, thereby filling my mind with wisdom, figuring out my weak spots and turning them completely over to Him through prayer and conscious decision while also listening for His voice as I step out in faith, one step at a time daily toward my calling. On good days there’s abundant hope and I feel like a necessary cog in the machine, on bad days I feel like deadweight content to watch others succeed. At least now I know on both days, with my eyes turned toward Him: I’m able to thank the Lord for his grace, his blessings bestowed on me and most importantly: for His unconditional love no matter what.

#full circle #birthday yam #lift club #honesty #God #obedience #faith #joy #TD Jakes #John Ortberg #John Bevere #Proverbs #Romans #grateful #blessings #purpose #calling

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