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vamosaespana · 2 months

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Mom time

I awoke to GB shaking me gently saying it’s 11:30. Holy guacamole that’s sleeping in😮 3 is awake and downstairs while 1 and 2 are still sleeping. 1 starts to stir and heads to the bathroom where you here the not so discrete slam of the toilet seat banging down on the porcelain. To which what quickly follows is 2 sticking her head out of her bedroom door yelling at whoever it may be to “keep it down some people are trying to sleep here!” Yup sounds like morning 🤦🏻‍♀️

As everyone starts to wake up, I have gotten accustomed to getting the clothes off the clothes hanger on the roof to fold and put away. I’ve gotten used to drying my clothes outside. There’s just something different about it that I can’t quite put my finger on it but I really do love it.

We all get ready for breakfast and as I finish getting ready GB lets me know that we are going to skip the ruins in Ithaca. After a late night and lots of running around, he thought it would be best if it was a chill day for the kids as we would have an early start tomorrow traveling on the train. The kids are all about it…tanning for 2, 1 lounging in the jacuzzi and 2 just chilling on her iPad and drawing. I agree but also wish I had been told sooner so as to not put on my full face but oh well. GB finds a little restaurant close to our house and we eat to our hearts content. I love the idea of tapas as you can try a sampling of all sorts of little apps as everything on the menu sounds amazing.

It’s at lunch I decide that I’m going to spend the day exploring solo. I return back to the house to grab my wrap so that I am church ready at any time. I had a tank top on with a long skirt so wanted to make sure I was respectful and had my shoulders covered. Normally this trip I have always been prepared but this time I forgot the shawl so had to head back quick to grab it. Once in the house, the kids split to their various ideas of relaxing and I head out.

There is a beautiful church just near our home from Our Lady of the Macarena. I’m so excited as it’s kind of a big deal. Apparently she is the patron saint of bull fighters and her statue is paraded around the city on her feast day. The story is a Lutheran threw a bottle of wine at that statue during one of the parades and it stained her cheeks red. Apparently the stain could not be removed no matter what they tried and her face is stained to this day. The man who threw the bottle of wine apparently carried the Virgin through the streets the following year as penitence for what he did the year prior. With anticipation I walk up to the gate to see its closed 😔 The church opens at 12 and 6 during the week and it’s currently 2:00. Oh well, at least I got to see the outside of it. I start out a main road and just walk. Not sure where I’m going or where this street will lead. I do have a paper map of streets on me so I can somewhat have my whereabouts but this is just going to be an adventure. I pass many churches, all closed unfortunately, but I do enjoy just looking at the outside’s beauty and imagining the inside must be even more beautiful inside. I take time to sit and enjoy little plazas with fountains to soak in the people and areas of Seville. There is no rush…it’s just me. It’s hot but I don’t mind it at all. I contemplated many a time stopping at a little cafe and having a drink or some tea but every time I think about it I think that maybe there will just be another one further down the way. I finally arrive at the Setas. This is a huge metal sculpture in the middle of a plaza that our renter told us at night they will put on a light show that is cool to see. Well it’s about 4:00 so won’t be seeing that but it’s cool that I’m able to see it in person and walk around.

I stop to take a minute to catch my breath and that is when on my map I notice four roman pilars. Apparently part of some Roman ruins…it’s not an Ithaca but at least I get to see something 🤷🏻‍♀️ Onward I go!

I then see on the map there is a huge tower nearby. Not quite sure why it’s special but it’s big enough on the map to make it look like a big deal so I’m on my way. It’s actually way closer than I thought and as soon as I turn a corner there it is.

Apparently you used to be able to go up the tower to the lookout point but it looks like it’s closed now. I take the obligatory picture and continue on my way. The cool thing is, without even trying to, I made a complete circle and am back on the street that has our house on it. Me for the Win!

Once back home, and someone eventually lets me in😒 I am soaking from sweat and totally gross. Time to hop into the jacuzzi. I pop in my podcast and just soak away, resting so quietly not even realizing my husband taking a pic of me with my mouth open dead to the world. I guess I may have slept for a bit 🤭

3 pops her head out and asks me if I’m hungry…this is a subtle way of saying “hey the rest of us are hungry but we realize you’re resting so don’t want to come right out and say it but in the end you really know what we are trying to do here…so can we go eat?” No worries I’m rested and ready for the next leg of eating extravaganza. As we walk to the restaurant GB picked out I see that the basilica of Our Lady of the Macarena is open!!!! I ask if I can pop in while they go check out the menu. It’s absolutely beautiful inside and there is a wedding going on during mass. So cool!!!! I say some prayers, see the beautiful couple getting married and then sneak out as other visitors did. Although I also saw many of the wedding goers also sneaking out and hanging out at the bars that surround the church 🤨 2 of them had the same pink/magenta dress…did the bridesmaids even sneak out 🫢 Anyway, the place GB picked was a no go so we keep walking around. We stop at this little bar to get snacks that were called “pollo Kentucky.” I don’t think you need to speak Spanish to know what that means…GB and the kids were stopping! As they snack on “pollo Kentucky” I find a restaurant that’s a hike but totally doable. As we start walking, we pass by our Ojalá place and definitely agree we will be stopping back here for the ice cream. We continue walking on and 2 spots a pizza place that looks so good. Well, pizza won and we end up mixing the restaurant and settle for pizza. It was perfect. We ended up playing our CLR game while we waited for the pizza and then enjoyed the biggest slices of pizza I have ever seen. The funny thing was I asked for a fork and knife and they just smiled and said we don’t have that here. So we made it work with our hands and had fun doing it.

We then made our walk back to Ojalá to cap off the night with ice cream and then walked home. The day was definitely not we had planned but it really worked out for the best for everyone. Another early morning tomorrow to catch the train to Valencia means packing up, doing laundry and making sure we are rested for the next half of our trip. Long train ride tomorrow means a day to chill and recharge so that we are ready to take on Valencia!

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

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Who Is That? (Harry Styles)

“Can I get two daiquiris and a shot of tequila, please?” I ask the bartender leaning over the bar. As I wait I turn to my left and see the man who walked into the restaurant only minutes ago, seemingly capturing everyone’s attention, including mine.

“Hi.” I greet, turning to look into his green eyes.

He gives me only a tight lipped smile before taking a sip of his own drink. Not even bothered to fully look in my direction.

“My friend sent me over here, and I normally don’t do this but-” Before I even get the chance to finish my sentence the man interrupts me. I had been on my way over to talk to him and introduce myself after I was highly encouraged by my friend at our table.

“We can take a picture, but please wait a while to post it and you can’t tag the restaurant. I’m about to have dinner with my family and I would prefer to keep this quiet.”

“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing. This is not at all where I thought it would go. Who does this guy think he is?

“A picture? That’s what you were coming over here for? C’mon, let’s do it then.” He states as if it’s obvious, looking at me as if I’m daft.

I let out a laugh and shake my head in disbelief.

“Do you know who I am?” He seems genuinely curious now, not quite as entitled as he was acting earlier. His brows express how shocked and confused he truly is. “You don’t need to pretend or anything, it’s fine. It happens all the time.”

“Am I supposed to? Do we know each other?”

“You honestly don’t know who I am?” He doesn’t bother to answer my questions as he scratches at his chin for a few seconds. He lets out a scoff as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I haven’t a clue who you are, and I’m not sure how much I care anymore. I was coming over because I thought you were handsome, but now I kinda think you’re an ass.”

Finally the bartender comes back with my drinks, I quickly throw back the shot.

“Cheers. I hope you have a lovely evening.” I mutter, not even trying to hide the sarcastic tone in my voice.

I set down the shot glass and take a daiquiri in each hand and start to walk back to my table. His hand gently catches me on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

“I’m sorry, you’ve just caught me at the end of a rough day. It’s not very often I come across someone who doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s fine.” I keep walking not caring to hear anymore from him and he lets go of me.

I don’t know what I expected. I never should have bothered to say anything. He could have remained that beautiful stranger, rather than the ass who opened his mouth.

“How’d it go?” Hannah gushes as I set down the drinks and sit down. Her cheeks must be burning for how wide her smile is.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask. It takes all of my willpower to not completely turn around and get one more look at him, to see if his eyes are still on me. The way she keeps staring behind me proves that I’m right.

“Well duh! You just talked to Harry Styles!” She can’t wipe the smile off her face, “And he’s totally still checking you out!”

“Yeah, who is that?”

“Do you remember hearing about One Direction before you left?” She asks, trying to jog my memory from years ago. My knowledge of pop culture from the past years is severely lacking.

“Kind of. A boy band, right?”

“Yes! He’s one of the boys, they’ve all gone solo. Harry’s done really well, he’s even been in movies. Unless you’re ancient, literally everyone knows who he is.”

“You sent me over to say hi to him knowing that he’s some big hot shot famous guy?” I laugh. Of course Hannah would think that's a lovely idea.

“What? What was the harm, if it went well that’s awesome. If not, you never have to see him again!”

Well, she has a point there.

For the past six years I’ve spent my time with Love Volunteers to teach Ghanaian youth creative arts. It was some of the best years ever, it felt amazing to give back and feel like I was making a difference. Eventually it had to come to an end, so that led me coming back home to Los Angeles. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart, along with all of the people I met there.

I’m pulled back into whatever Hannah was saying when she throws her head back in a loud laugh, thankfully off the topic of Harry. I tried to ignore it when a few minutes ago he walked by with two other people. He did say that he had dinner with his family tonight.

The rest of the meal goes well. I get to catch up on everything that I’ve missed that didn’t come across well in the letters we exchanged or since the last time I visited. It’s nice to be back in the states and be able to live more freely. It was time for me to come home, I spent the past week with my family who were glad to have me home. Today I moved into my new apartment and back in my city. I start my new job in a few days, similarly I will still be working with kids. Teaching was always the plan for me to come home to, I just never knew I was going to be gone so long. I was able to skip my student teaching year and use my time spent in Ghana as a form of credits.

“Alright, will that be all for you tonight? Could I get you any desert?” Our waitress politely asks, smiling down at us. She reaches for the menu to run through a few of the different things they offer. Hannah and I already both agreed that we are too full at this point to add on.

“Just the bill please, that would be great.” Hannah smiles, “We need it split if that could be possible.”

“Actually that’s been taken care of.”

“What?” I question, brows furrowing.

“Yes, a man at the bar took care of it earlier. He said he owed you an apology.” The waitress smiles as if it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. Obviously she knows who he is. She wishes us a good night before walking away.

“Can you believe that?” I ask, walking side by side with Hannah to the door. We both sat for a minute, Hannah trying to figure out what it means that he paid for our meal.

“No! Can you believe that Harry Styles paid for our meal? He’s so kind.” She gushes.

“Yeah it would be if it wasn’t out of guilt.” I push open the door, we’re met with a warm breeze as the sun is setting. It casts a perfectly pink and orange haze over everything in its reach.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later? Are you absolutely sure that you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m positive! My apartment is in the complete opposite direction of yours. I’m calling an Uber right now!”

“Okay, fine! Call me later, text once you’re back home. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Hannah gets in her car and waves as she pulls away and I get my phone out of my bag. The Uber will pick me up in twenty minutes, so I wait patiently outside the restaurant. The restaurant was sort of on the outskirts of L.A. if you can even call it that. It doesn’t exactly surprise me that it’ll take a while to get someone out here.

The door bursts open and it grabs my attention with the sudden noise. It’s Harry and the two women he was with. I catch his eye while he hugs one of them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, before wishing them a goodbye.

He takes a few steps closer to me, while he waits for the valet to bring him his car.

“You didn’t need to do that.” I pull my purse a little tighter over my shoulder.

“No, trust me, I did. My mother raised me better than that, I’m sorry I was being rude. I promise, I’m never like that.”

“Well, never say never.” I fight looking down at my phone to see how far away “Adam” is. This might be the longest twenty minutes of my life if it continues like this.

“Ouch.” He grins, it seems like either his meal or his company put him in a brand new mood.

“Sorry.” I smile over my shoulder, “My friend actually lives in the real world and she seems to think you’re really kind, so I’ll get off your case.”

“You don’t live in the real world?” He questions.

“I do now, but I didn’t for a while.” I laugh, “I’ve spent the past six years volunteering in Ghana. I really had no clue who you were. I wasn’t exactly staying up to date on the new music when I was over there. According to Hannah, you’re a pretty big deal.”

Harry lets out a wide grin, a blush gracing his cheeks. So he is humble. Okay, maybe Hannah was right, he’s alright.

“Some might say that, yes.” He looks down at his shoes, tapping one against the other.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” I tease.

“I’m not shy, I’m just trying to figure out how I can change your image of me. I’m always going to be my first impression, right? Some ass at the bar with a grumpy attitude?”

“I think you’re doing fine. Thankfully, no one is made up of one moment. You’ve done more than enough to make up for it.” I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Your slate is clean.”

“Well thanks for that.” He laughs, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah, just waiting for my ride.” I check my phone to see that Adam has canceled the ride for some reason. I’m sure he’s just realized how far it is to get here and then turn right around to go back into the city to my apartment building, “Which was just canceled, lovely.”

I try to find another Uber, but there is no one close by. I spend a minute refreshing, waiting for anyone to accept my request.

“I could give you a lift if you needed.”

“What?” I ask, shocked.

As if on cue, the valet pulls up with his car. They give him his keys and thank him, I look between him and the car with doubt. This man is a total stranger to me.

“I mean, it’s getting late. Your options aren’t going to get much better as it gets later.” Harry explains. He could be right, even by now the sky is starting to take on a dark blue.

“How do I know that you’re not trying to kidnap or kill me?” I ask, “I don’t know you at all.”

“Look me up then, google me.” He shrugs, his smile never wavering.

“Google doesn’t know if you’re secretly a creep.” I roll my eyes.

“Fine, then you drive.”

“You’re going to let me drive your 1972 Ferrari Dino?” I ask skeptically.

“You know cars?” His smile widens.

“Better than boy bands.” I tease, I bite back a smirk.

He throws his head back in a loud laugh. It makes me smile just seeing him laugh. It’s refreshing to see someone so happy and easy to laugh at my sassy remark.

“Fair enough.” He throws his keys up for me to catch.

“Are you sure? I haven’t driven a car in six years.” I laugh. I drove atvs when I was over there, but never actually a car.

“Well what’s life if it’s not a risk.”

“What if I’m a crazy person?”

“I’m trusting you. Same way you’re trusting me.”

“You might actually be crazy.” I scoff, looking at the keys in my hands.

“Maybe.” He grins, his eyes go wide for a second.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He’s already seated in the passenger spot. I roll my eyes and walk around to the other side of the car to get in.

“You might be the most mad person I’ve ever met.” I pull my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on my head to keep my hair out of my face. Since I started the car, Harry’s taken the top off the car.

“Maybe. Or maybe the most sane.” He flashes me a grin, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Are you sure about this?” I tease, revving the engine a few times.

“No one’s stopping you, love. The brake is the one of the left.” He leans back without a care in the world, even throwing in his own banter.

I didn’t realize how much I missed driving until this exact moment. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never driven like this. A one of a kind sports car with the top down. A famous rockstar picking the music as we drive down the 101 in towards the city. The feeling of being free, and in complete control. The music is loud, my hair flying back behind me, wild and untamed.

“So, what are you doing now that you’re back? I assume you’re staying here for a while then if you have an apartment?”

We finally start talking again once we’re downtown, it’s easier to hear each other without the wind from the freeway.

“I am.” I look over my shoulder to switch lanes, “I actually have a job as a teacher that I start pretty soon.”

“Well that’s lovely, what grade?”

“Sixth.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m really excited. When I was in Ghana I was teaching youth creative arts. I was only supposed to go for nine months, a year max, but I really loved it there.”

I glance over at him, to see if he’s listening, or if he even cares.

“Have you ever just had that feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be? Just a place that felt exactly like home?”

“Yeah, once or twice.” He admits, “If that’s how you felt, why leave?”

“Because I couldn’t stay forever. My life is here. I’ve had that feeling twice in my whole life. Once was there, and the other was here. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me happy being here.”

“I know the feeling.” He smiles.

Shortly after that we make it to my apartment building, I pull into a spot in the front. My doorman gives us a nod making us laugh.

“Thank you for getting me home, and letting me drive. I think this might be my new favorite car.” I run my hand along the dash with appreciation.

“I think I’m going to miss her.” I tease with a pout.

“She’s always the best until you’re on a grocery trip.” He jokes.

“Well thank you Harry.” I take off my seatbelt and walk around to the sidewalk. I wave over my shoulder seeing him get out as I walk up the steps.

“Maybe I could get your number.” He pauses to clear his throat, “You know, so you can see the car again.”

“Just to see the car?” I grin.

“Well, I’ll be there too.” He

“I think we could make that happen.”

He reaches his phone out toward me to fill out a contact.

“Y/n.” He grins reading it off his phone.

“That’s me.” I simper.

“I’ll be calling you, Y/n.” Harry smirks and takes a few backwards steps towards his car.

“I’m counting on it, Harry.”

plz let me know what y’all think! xoxo

PART TWO

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

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PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree. School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could. In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better. Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now. Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only. The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way. It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer. Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom. As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing. Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour. While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5. But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6. Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes, Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher! So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel. But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what? He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?! So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?” Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself. “That’s the thing about American government. They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn! That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,” he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly! That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn. There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on. Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know. Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?” he offers.

You nod a little. “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. History is literally set in stone. If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?” you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle. You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What? What’s that about?” you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.

Trevante tuts at you. “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you. You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful. I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs. “Summer don’t count (y/n). You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him. The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?” he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms. “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too. What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie. “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend. Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home. Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that. The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons. And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods. “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement. “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year. That’s decided at random. Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there. If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination. “Dang, Tre! Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me! He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck. “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there. I will make all the, what you call it? Ruckus? That shit! So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness. His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar. “Ok, I’ll hold you to it. How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms. “He is doing well, being a regular kid. Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod. “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do? Should we run away? Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm. “It’s part my fault. I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it. I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street. And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do? You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this. “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about. I give him the basics though: Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called on you either. But it sounds played out to even say. What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing. Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging. Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond. “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age. That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now. We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile. “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too. “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’ I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.” You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.

“Oh shit! So this is Turnt Teacher! Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off. “You aren’t stopping anything. If nothing else, you keeping me going. All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too. You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine. “Are we still doing a movie tonight? I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch. “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation. Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen. Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him. In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right? So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second. “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right? Six feet, masks, no crowded space. If you want, we can do that. I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had. And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See? You even call me Tre now. We familiar right? I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…” you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you. If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do? No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,” you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me. He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement. A plan to go out, with a man no less! This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it. You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this. You wanna see me, I wanna see you. We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you. “Ok, I’m in. Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy

#shakafic #trevante rhodes fic #pta

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1267

cds.

do you still buy physical copies of cds? I stopped for many years but recently started again.

have you ever listened to a cd for the first time and loved every track? I was like this with Petals for Armor, Flowers for Vases, and After Laughter; I’m just a super big fan of anything Hayley Williams and Paramore put out.

name an artist who always comes out with great albums: I mean I’m gonna be biased and say Paramore...

how long can you listen to a cd without getting sick of it? I don’t really listen to CDs per se, I guess, so I dunno if I can answer this. When I want to music, and a particular artist, I usually pick a playlist composed of songs from different albums.

do you know any good places on the internet to get free downloads of whole albums? I wouldn’t be able to refer you to one, come to think of it.

what was the last cd you bought? My Butter/Permission to Dance set.

have you ever gotten a cd signed by the artist? Nope.

name cds that are in your car right now or would be in your car if you had one: I don’t keep CDs in my car just because I get my music played by connecting my phone to the Bluetooth; but I believe for the longest time I had a Beyoncé album in the CD slot before I took it out.

your hair.

describe your hair style: It’s wavy and layered is the most I can say about it. I don’t style it often.

when was the last time you got a haircut? Around the start or mid-August, I think? I don’t remember when exactly; but it was very recent.

is your hair the only thing you drastically change? I never do drastically change it to begin with. The only things I do with it are 1) let it grow out, 2) have it trimmed to my collarbones once a year.

would you rather have brown, blonde, or black hair (not your natural)? I have black hair, but it would be interesting to go brown.

what's the shortest you've ever had your hair? Up to below my ears.

have you ever had bangs? I currently have bangs and am more than sick of them already ath this point.

if not, do you plan on ever getting them // if you have them, do you plan on growing them out? Yeah, for the latter.

fantasies.

what do you fantasize about most often? How my life could’ve turned out if we weren’t in a pandemic is definitely one of them. Would I have been able to get the same job? Remain in the relationship I used to be in and maybe have even gotten better at handling it? What cities could I have possibly already traveled to with my own money?

if your last fantasy came true, how happy would you be? That would be traveling to South Korea, and I would be over the moon.

how much do you fantasize? Mmm not very often since my work takes up most of my headspace. I usually daydream before bed, I think.

or am i the only one who does? Definitely not.

have you ever told anyone who has been in your fantasy about it? I mean, I just always tell Angela and Reena that I can’t wait to go to Korea with them. But I don’t fantasize about irls in the way that I think you mean.

would you rather fantasize about your ex or the hottest teacher in your school for the rest of your life? I don’t ever want to think of my ex in that way anymore and I’m not in school.

do you often find yourself fantasizing about things/people you know you shouldn't? I mean I will fantasize about certain celebrities but idk if that falls as a should/shouldn’t thing.

your ex.

who did the most damage in your preexisting relationship? I think we both showed our worst weaknesses towards one another. But by the end of it, I will say she inflicted more damage onto me.

if you were/are single, would you have sex with them? Um at this point, no. I barely think about sex anyway.

would/did you give this person your virginity? I did. My feelings for her today aside, I don’t regret it; I trusted her in that moment and I wouldn’t take that away from me.

do you still miss the good times with them? Only in the sense that she used to be my best friend for an extremely long period of time and nearly all the great memories from my past were made with her. do you still talk often? how often? Oh not at all. I haven’t kept in touch since the last day of 2020. did you make a big deal about the break up? Yeah, I was definitely the more reactive one and it lasted for a couple of months. She bounced as soon as she got out of the relationship and I wish I had gotten the hint sooner.

how long did it take you to get over them? Around 6 or 7 months. I really thought it would take so much longer.

if you could tell them one thing, what would it be: I have nothing to say.

the song you're listening to/the song that's stuck in your head/any song you want to talk about

favorite lyric in the song: “Where there is hope, there is hardship.”

what is the song? It’s a song called Sea.

artist: BTS.

how'd you get introduced to this song? It was briefly played in one of their docu-series; I just can’t remember which one. Anyway, I instantly took a liking since it isn’t their usual sound, so I wanted to look it up; and it made a lot more sense when I learned it was initially meant to be a solo for one of the members.

if you could perfectly play this on any instrument, which instrument would it be? Oh this song would be perfect on a violin.

would you have sex with the artist/anyone in the band? Why does everything always revolve around sex for some people?? < LOL same question but to answer it anyway, hahahahaha yes

can you relate to the lyrics? Not in the manner in which it was written, but I do have my own interpretation of it that I am able to relate with a lot. The song definitely gets me emotional.

name a friend that you think would like it: Angela, only because I know she already does like it hahaha. In general, though, K-Pop is still quite polarizing so idk if any of my friends outside of the K-Pop bubble would appreciate it.

would you rather have sex to this song or witness your dad singing it to your friends? Uhm, maybe the latter because I think it would be adorable in a very dorky way

favorite restaurant.

how many times have you been to this place? Countless times, but they were always with my ex. I need to revisit that place just by myself lol.

where is it located? It has multiple branches across the metro but the one I used to frequent is the one at UPTC.

when was the first time you came here? I have no idea but I think the first time was with my mom and siblings actually. A rough guess would be...2016? or maybe 2017.

what's the name of the restaurant? Yabuuuu.

what kind of atmosphere does it have? On the sophisticated sidde but still casual and homey, especially since it offers unlimited rice and sides and you can always just call on a server to dump a scoop of rice or lettuce or whatever when you’ve run out of them haha.

does it have a bar? No, but if I remember correctly they do offer a few alcoholic drinks.

have you ever been here for a birthday? Yes, for my 21st birthday. I went with Angela.

what do you order when you're here? I get their rosu set, which is katsu with a strip of fat.

are they famous for any drinks? No.

have you ever gone here with your significant other? Many times. It was our favorite restaurant.

if it shut down (if its a chain, the entire chain) permanently, how sad would you be? That would soooo shitty. I’d order a meal everyday until it disappears forever lol.

would you work here? No. I love the brand, but not so desperately so as to work for them haha.

favorite teacher

(I don’t really have one, but I’ll refer to the first good professor that popped in my head.)

how old is this person? I have no clue but I would guess he’s anywhere in the mid-20s to early-30s range.

name: HAHAHAHAHA I don’t actually remember his name anymore...oh no...but he was my prof in my international relations class.

are they married? I know he has a boyfriend, not sure about his relationship status. That’s not of my business to know.

would you marry them? Well, no.

do they have kids? I’m fairly certain he doesn’t.

have you ever seen them out of school? Not me but I know some of my college friends have. It’s how I heard he has a boyfriend lol.

what's so great about them that makes them your favorite? He was clearly very passionate about our subject and he was able to explain concepts helpfully and in a way that anybody can appreciate, considering I wasn’t even majoring in the course he taught.

are they more laidback about teaching or strict? Laidback.

do they run any clubs or coach any sports? Not that I know of.

what's their personality like? Approachable, friendly.

if they weren't a teacher, what do you think would be a good profession for them? Political analyst.

#survey #surveys

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terreisa · 4 years

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Love Down the Line: Chapter 9

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, May 24th

“-and there’s a bit of a backup on the 405 just south of the 10 due to a two car accident in the southbound lanes. That’s the morning traffic report brought to you by your local Southern California Honda dealer. This is Treena in the morn’ and I got some Yaz on the way along with Echo and the Bunnymen and Talking Heads after this-”

“A clock radio?” Emma mumbled into the pillow, “Really? What are you, like, three hundred?”

Killian’s chuckle stirred the hair at the back of her neck, “Try thirty-five, love.”

“So you say,” she groused as he reached over her to turn off the alarm. She blinked up at him as he set his hands on either side of her shoulders, looming over her with a smile, “I bet you still have a landline, old man.”

“And a rather impressive laserdisc collection,” he said with a wink.

“You would.”

He laughed, a bright joyous thing that had her smile stretching from ear to ear. It was the last of the three days of no shows that they had while in LA and the second morning she’d woken in the bed of Killian’s house in Malibu. Since their first night together in Denver they hadn’t slept apart, much to Tink’s delight and Will’s annoyance. When they’d arrived in LA Emma had been surprised and pleased to discover that Killian had a house there where no one would disturb them as long as they kept their phones on silent. Unfortunately it hadn’t really been an option as her suddenly vibrating phone reminded her.

“What time is Regina sending the car?” Killian asked as he dipped his head and started trailing kisses down her throat.

She hummed in pleasure, blindly swiping at her phone to dismiss the call, “Nine. We’re having brunch with people from the label to talk about the next album and then it’s interviews for the rest of the afternoon.”

“And after all that we’ll rendezvous back here for dinner and a bit of Netflix and chill,” he murmured into her collarbone before dragging his tongue across it.

“You go-” her breath hitched as his hand travelled up her thigh, “going somewhere?”

He paused his ministrations, much to her frustration, and said somberly, “Aye, Robin still lives out here with his son. I haven’t been in town for… well, quite a while and I’m long overdue for a visit.”

The delicious tension she’d been feeling mellowed into something warm and soothing at his earnestness. Ever since they’d landed he’d waxed nostalgic about all the things he’d used to do in the city, places he’d eaten that he wasn’t sure were still around, venues he’d played, museums he’d spent hours getting lost in and all the interesting people he’d met in that time. What he hadn’t mentioned once was his former bandmate and friend. In the bright morning light streaming through the wall of windows she could see that for some reason he was nervous about seeing him again.

“You guys talk all the time,” she reminded him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek, “I interrupted one of your FaceTime dates just a couple of days ago.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye, and don’t think I haven’t received more than my fair share of nosey texts about that since.”

She blushed, forgetting that when she’d done the interrupting she’d been wearing one of his shirts and not much else.

“Seeing as Robin has come to Boston several times in the years that I’ve been there it’s only fitting that he gets to monopolize some of my time while I’m here,” he said, one shoulder lifting higher than the other in a half shrug. “I’ll be home by the time you’re done with your interviews.”

“You don’t have to rush back just for me,” she said quickly, guilt already pulling at her, “Just text me when your male bonding time is over.”

“We’ll deal with the logistics later, love,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to her palm, “For now I’d like to pick up where we left off before-”

Emma sighed in disappointment as her phone began to vibrate again. Knowing that Regina was the only one who would not only call but do so before nine a.m. no matter the time zone she couldn’t ignore it. She’d made the mistake of doing it before a show in Arizona once and had sworn Regina would have pushed her into the Grand Canyon if she’d been given the opportunity.

Gently nudging Killian off of her with an apology she sat up and grabbed her phone. Killian sat up behind her, pushing her hair to one side as he nuzzled into her neck. Giggling but in no way discouraging him she swiped up to answer.

Regina started talking the second the call connected, “The car will be there in thirty minutes to take you straight to the restaurant-”

“Wait, what?” Emma jerked away from Killian’s ministrations to look at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was only a little after seven. “I thought you said it’d be here at nine!”

“Plans have changed,” Regina said off-handedly. “The brunch meeting is now a breakfast meeting and I’ve pushed up one of your radio interviews to give you the time you’ll need for the streaming exclusives.”

“Exclusives?” She asked warily.

“Enchanted XM wants you to curate a ten song playlist and record intros for their Alt Rock station and then there will be an in-depth interview with one of their djs. Snowdrops and Buttercups has been their number one request since its debut and is poised to take the number one spot on the chart next week. It’s also been getting increasing play on their hits station. We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

Emma tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling as she counted to ten to keep her patience. She was well aware that self promotion came with the territory, especially as a solo artist, and usually she had no problem giving interviews or whatever little fun extras needed to do so. What she hated was that Regina tended to take liberties with her schedule whenever they were in a big enough city and there was extra down time. It was all the more frustrating that Regina knew that things between her and Killian had shifted and apparently didn’t care about infringing on their time alone together.

“We’ll still be done by six right?” She asked, resigned, Killian’s warm hand gliding across her shoulders calming her much more than her counting had.

“Yes,” Regina huffed and Emma could practically hear her eyes rolling, “You and lover boy can have your romantic evening together and don’t think we won’t be discussing how to play whatever it is you two are doing to the press.”

“Really?” She growled.

“Really.”

Before Emma could even begin to shoot down that idea Regina had hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in her hand with disbelief and anger. Even Killian’s gentle ministrations were no longer helping.

“I need to get ready,” she said mournfully, moving to stand from the bed.

Killian stopped her with a hand on her wrist, “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, everything’s great. The meeting with the label got moved and there’s already a car on its way. Which normally wouldn’t be a big deal but-” she shrugged, still angry but also starting to blush, “We were getting to the good stuff.”

“That we were,” he agreed with a salacious grin. Then the grin faded and he narrowed his eyes at her, “Was there something else she said? You seem upset over more than just an earlier meeting.”

Emma hesitated. As much as she wanted to share her frustration with Regina dictating her life she couldn’t do so without bringing up the questions she’d successfully avoided since the morning after they’d first slept together. First and foremost, was what they were doing just as important to him as it was to her and if it was, then what did that mean for them once the tour was over and they returned to their respective lives. Chickening out she figured they could talk it over later, when there wasn’t a time constraint or a full day of interviews where she’d need to keep focused.

She shook her head and smiled, “Nothing you need to worry about. Regina just has me getting some list of songs together for some streaming thing and I have no idea what I’m going to pick. It takes me two hours to edit the playlists I already have, how the hell am I supposed to choose ten songs and then talk about them?”

“Simple, pick one of your playlists, put it on random and the first ten songs that play are the ones you choose,” he said easily. “You already know and enjoy those songs if you spent two hours picking them and there’s no pressure of trying to curate a perfect list from scratch.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea-” she beamed, grabbing her phone and bouncing up from the bed. She spun around and gave what she hoped was a come hither look, “You know, I hear California is in a drought. It’d be a shame to waste water by taking separate showers.”

His lips curled wickedly, “I’d say that I love the way your mind works, Swan.”

Taking his hand she led him into the bathroom and made good use of the less than twenty minutes they had before her car arrived. Several hours later, however, she wished she had pushed back a little more against the schedule Regina had set up for her. Of course she’d had no way of knowing that her too short morning with Killian was going to be the least stressful of her day.

Sitting in one of the green rooms at Enchanted XM between the recording session for her song picks and her interview she let her eyes slide shut. It had already been a long day and it was nowhere near being over and done with. The breakfast meeting had been good, the representatives from the label had been pleased that she had already written a few songs that she felt were strong contenders for the next album and they had easily agreed to giving her three months off after the tour to work on the rest. Even Regina had been pleased with the meeting, if her short and not too unreasonable list of demands for moving forward were any indication.

The interview she’d done directly after had been the kind that she’d gotten used to over the years. Questions that were more often than not the same ones others had asked her time and again. She’d gotten good at making it sound like she was hearing them for the first time and varying her answers just enough so she didn’t sound like a robot. The best part were the teasing texts from Killian waiting for her once she was done. She was surprised and touched that he had taken the time out of his day to listen to her interview, especially since he knew how unexciting they could be.

As her day continued Regina had left her to make her way to the Enchanted XM studios on her own. Once there she had immediately had to get to work ironing out her list of songs and recorded the intros with the program producer. It had been more fun than she’d anticipated. She’d already had her choices written down in one of her ever present notebooks, having listened to a randomized playlist in the car on her way to breakfast like Killian had suggested. The first ten songs that had played had been perfect but she’d made one substitution to make sure that a Realm of Jewels song was one of her picks. It was her thank you to Killian for giving her the idea in the first place and a not so subtle wink to whatever was going on between them.

The producer, a woman named Gwen, had been impressed with her choices. They’d spent nearly an hour talking them over, working through a rough script of what she would say about each one. Then she had been taken to a small recording booth where it had taken less than an hour to get what they needed. She’d wanted to text Killian about it but Gwen had immediately invited her to lunch and she hadn’t had the chance. Once they’d returned to Enchanted’s headquarters she’d been asked to record a few small promos for the stations that played her songs in heavy rotation. Not willing to say no she’d been ushered to another recording booth with barely any time to take a breath.

Being left alone in the green room was a welcome break from what had become an increasingly busy day. Just as she was about to pull out her phone for the first time since after her first interview the door opened and Regina stormed in, angrily snapping at whoever the poor soul was that was still in the hallway.

“-not recording as scheduled and I want to know why a rider was requested when nothing that is on it is in this room. There’s not even a bottle of water. See that it gets taken care of.”

“Of course, Ms. Mills.”

The disembodied voice wavered slightly and Emma's earlier annoyance at Regina flared back up.

“The water that’s in here is fine,” she called out, leaning forward and catching the eye of the young woman in the hallway giving her an apologetic smile. She turned pointedly to Regina and glared, “I don’t need anything else.”

“That’s not the point,” Regina sniffed, her dark eyes narrowing followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Certain expectations were to be met and they weren’t. Just one more thing this company has failed at. I have a mind to stop booking appearances here if they’ll just be treated like this.”

“Okay, this is about something more than water bottles and a missing box of Milk Duds. What’s going on?” Emma asked suspiciously.

Regina pursed her lips as she took out her phone and began rapidly typing. Emma waited patiently for her to answer, knowing better than to push if she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders. With a final tap on her screen Regina focused back on her with a wary look that immediately had her on edge.

“You were supposed to do the on air interview with Graham Humbert but apparently due to an ‘unfortunate’-” Regina rolled her eyes, “scheduling conflict you have to do it with Walsh Hoakley instead.”

Emma groaned. An interview with Graham would have been fun and easy. They’d both gotten their start in the business around the same time, so he not only knew what types of questions she enjoyed answering but what her boundaries were when it came to her personal life. Walsh, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Every interview she’d had with him had her sitting through bad jokes and his comparing her career against his own. He had been the frontman of a pop punk group that had taken a break almost a decade before, though he insisted that it was only a matter of time before they would release another album. It was bad enough she had to play nice as he gave her unsolicited advice but once the mics were turned off he tended to dial up his smarmy charm and invite her out for drinks or a meal. She’d always firmly said no but he’d kept it up and after their last interview nearly two years earlier she’d told Regina that she preferred not to do any more with him.

“I thought he was with that big station in New York,” she said sullenly.

“Apparently not,” Regina sniffed. Her eyes softened fractionally, “Do you want me to reschedule?”

“No,” she sighed, “We’re already here and I know we don’t have any time to come back while we’re still in LA. Plus I don’t want rumors starting that I’m being difficult over Walsh Hoakley. I don’t want to give him that honor.”

Regina smirked, “I’m sure he’d dine out on that for years.”

“He would. So where’d you disappear to?” Emma asked, through talking about Walsh.

“I do have other clients that happen to conveniently live where their label’s offices and some of the best recording studios are,” Regina said drolly, perching herself delicately on a chair. “You might want to reexamine the benefits of moving out here after this tour is done. You’re only going to get bigger from here on out.”

She hummed noncommittally. For a few seconds she let herself daydream about moving into Killian’s beachfront house, waking up in his arms every morning before heading to the studio that would admittedly be leaps and bounds better than the one back in Maine. She could almost see herself returning at the end of her day to find Killian preparing dinner in the kitchen or strumming his guitar on the balcony. Before her thoughts went any further than that she stopped them in their tracks, forcing herself to remember all the reasons why she loved living in Storybrooke and to not let herself get wrapped up in a fantasy. She didn’t let herself dwell on how her imaginings had given her the same feelings of home that her real memories of Storybrooke did.

Ten minutes and an increasingly impatient Regina later another assistant came to show them to the recording booth. From behind the glass they watched as Walsh introduced the next group of songs that would be playing and teased her interview. As soon as he switched off his mic she was ushered into the booth, shown which headphones and mic to use and then left alone with him. To her great relief he smiled and shook her hand, seemingly not knowing that she had requested not to do interviews with him. She smiled back, settling in the chair in front of the mic she’d been shown and adjusted everything to her liking. As they waited for the queued songs to finish playing they made small talk about their day and the thankfully very few mutual acquaintances they had.

The interview started off well. Walsh only mentioned his band Behind the Curtain twice and kept his advice to a minimum. Emma found herself actually enjoying the questions he asked, responding with enthusiasm when he asked about living in Maine and her writing process. She was so caught up in lightheartedly debating with him over notebooks versus a phone app to write lyrics that she was surprised when he mentioned that their time was drawing to a close.

“So, Emma, before you go, how has this tour been so far? You’ve only got a few shows left right?”

“Yeah, just the last few cities heading north but it’s been really, really great,” she enthused, “This is the biggest tour I’ve ever done and the fans have been amazing in every city we’ve played. I’m actually really looking forward to tomorrow night’s show since it’s where they have the Oscars.”

“Right, the Dolby theater, when we played it was still the Kodak and it’s a great venue. Bigger than what you would think when you see it on tv,” Walsh said with a wink and a grin.

Emma fought against a cringe at his bad innuendo, glad that he hadn’t been like that through the whole interview.

“I haven’t had a chance to get in the space yet and, I know this is really nerdy or whatever, but I’m really excited to stand on the same stage that some of my favorite actors have been on. I mean, some of my idols have played there and it’s always an honor to get to perform where they have too, but come on, tomorrow I could be standing in the exact spot where Meryl Streep or Tom Hanks or Oprah have stood. Oprah!”

Walsh chuckled, “So you still get starstruck meeting other celebrities?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a nod. “I don’t even think of myself as a celebrity. I live in the same town I mostly grew up in, all my friends are ones I’ve had since before I even thought about recording an album, I don’t even have ‘people’ or whatever. I nearly had a heart attack seeing Lady Gaga from across the room at a benefit concert once.”

“So how was it when you met Killian Jones, famous guitarist for Realm of Jewels, before the start of your tour?”

She shot a glance to the window into the sound booth where Regina had been throughout the whole interview. Regina barely looked up from her phone and nodded, twirling her hand in a gesture Emma took to mean keep going. They had talked about what would happen when Killian was finally recognized but the longer they went without it happening the more she had convinced herself that they could get through the whole tour with no one the wiser. It seemed their time was up. Taking a deep breath to settle her racing heart she looked back at Walsh and found him watching her closely.

“I was surprised and a little annoyed actually,” she said with a small laugh. “Ruby, the guitarist I usually tour with, had broken her arm but said that she’d found her replacement for me. The thing was she wouldn’t tell me who it was so I walked into the recording studio and Killian was there. Realm of Jewels was one of my favorite bands, still is, so seeing him sitting there was a kinda surreal fangirl moment and intimidating too, knowing how good of a guitarist he is.”

“Rumors have been circulating on social media for a few weeks that it was Killian onstage for your tour and then earlier this afternoon uber-producer Robin Locksley seemed to confirm it-” Walsh pulled up a sheet of paper and began reading, “He said in an interview: ‘I’m very excited to begin working with Killian Jones on new music and other projects moving forward. He’s been touring the past few weeks as a backing guitarist and he told me it’s been a great first step to getting back out there. I was even fortunate enough to hear a few rough cuts of songs he’s already written for a new solo album and they’re amazing. I really can’t wait.’ Since you’ve confirmed it yourself have you heard any of his new songs while on the road? He’s already with your label and turns out he signed on with your manager Regina Mills back in March so will the rest of the tour be a double bill? Maybe even a possibility of a duet in the future?”

Emma felt dazed, like she’d been hit with a pillow shot out of a cannon. She had completely forgotten that Robin had become a music producer after Liam and Milah had died. He’d even sent her an email after her last album had been released, saying he wanted to work with her at some point. That little detail was nothing compared to the realization that Killian hadn’t mentioned that his lunch with Robin was really about business. He hadn’t even hinted that he had whole songs written let alone recorded anything. Worst of all was that he had signed on with Regina before he’d joined the tour and she knew without a doubt Regina would do anything necessary to further a client’s career. Especially if the final outcome would prove advantageous for two clients at once.

“I, uh, haven’t listened to anything he’s recorded-”

Her phone buzzed at her elbow. There were several notifications but the preview screen showed a text from Regina. She opened it in a daze.

Regina: No double billing, play coy about duet, plug rest of tour, still seats in Vancouver

The fog she’d been in cleared away as white hot anger took its place. She looked at Regina through the glass and found her making the same ‘continue on’ motion she had before. There was no sign of an apology on her features, only impatience and the ever present look of expectation that she perform well. While acting wasn’t her forte she was more than ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

“Killian was only brought on temporarily until Ruby was well enough to play again. Luckily her recovery happened to work out perfectly with us arriving in LA-” she knew she sounded too upbeat but pushed through, “I’m sorry to dash any hopes but Killian has decided to stay here and focus on his own music. Ruby will be back for tomorrow night’s show and will be finishing out the tour. We’re sold out for most of those shows but I think there’s still some tickets left for Vancouver, but not many.”

“So, no duet?” Walsh asked hopefully and Emma wasn’t sure if he meant musically or hinting at something between her and Killian.

“Nope,” she said decisively, her heart cracking as she did. “I’ll be taking some time off after this tour is done. Rest and relaxation are the only duets I’ll be performing any time soon.”

Walsh laughed, “Now that’s a duo everyone loves. Well, Emma, it’s been great talking to you.”

“You too,” she said with feigned pleasure.

“Here’s Emma’s latest single ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’ which has been flying up the charts. Safe to say you’ll be playing it tomorrow?”

“Yup. It’s been fun to see the responses get more enthusiastic as it gets played on the radio more,” she said, finally feeling like she was being genuine.

“That’s always a great feeling,” Walsh said with a grin. “Alright, here it is ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’. Thanks for stopping by, Emma.”

“Thanks for having me.”

As the first notes of her song filled the studio Emma ripped off the headphones, ignoring the constant buzz of her phone at her elbow. She wasn’t sure who it was that was calling, she’d told everyone important to her about the interview and she knew they had probably all tuned in to listen. With the way her pulse was pounding in her temples she wasn’t too sure she could keep herself from unfairly snapping at whoever it was and whatever questions they were going to have.

“Emma?”

She looked up at Walsh and by the way his grin faltered a bit she was sure that her anger was painted clear across her face.

“Yeah?”

“Er, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink?” He asked hesitantly. “Talk a little shop, maybe?”

“I already have plans,” she said shortly, the words tasting like the ashes of the evening she originally thought she’d be having.

“Coffee then? Or lunch? I’m up for anything really,” He said with a wink and a chuckle.

“Look, I don’t know how much more clear I can make this but I’m not ‘up’ for doing anything with you,” she snapped, his annoying persistence the final straw. “I thought that you’d gotten better than the last time you tried this but apparently not.”

She snatched up her phone and turned to leave when she heard him scoff and mutter something under his breath. She spun back to face him.

“Wanna share with the whole room?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a sneer that twisted his face into something vicious. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just a step away from falling into obscurity just like me. That whole thing about Jones was given to me by your people and by tomorrow morning both your careers will be reaping the benefits from it. I could have helped you along even further with the contacts I have in this business.”

Emma gaped at him, “By going out with you? Classy, you sack of shit.”

Something flashed in Walsh’s eyes, “You-”

“Emma! Let’s go, now.”

For half a second she was grateful that Regina had burst into the room, then she remembered why she was angry in the first place. She brushed past her, ignoring her stream of hissing admonishments and the stuttered apologies of the producer. Halfway back to the green room she realized her phone was still buzzing non-stop. Her stomach lurched, not wanting to know if it was Killian calling when she was walking the thin line between yelling at him or breaking down in tears. Steeling herself she finally looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief, swiping to answer.

“Ruby, pack your shit. I need you in LA tonight.”

#captain swan #captain swan fan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan fan fiction #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fan fic #ouat ff #my writing

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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So I have this theory that Steve and billy would take a long time to get to each other. They both have so much damage. They know they would be amazing but they also know they aren’t ready yet. So they go with their separate ways. They grow up, they get better. 10 years later they are both back home for a wedding (let’s say Dustin/Erica because I personally think they would be awesome. She would run his life and he would thank her for it) And S/B realize they are ready now. The timing is perfect

Read on Ao3.

“It looks good, buddy.”

Steve was sitting bored in the leather armchair. His hand was propping his chin as he stared at Dustin. He had tried out 18 suits and Steve was tired.

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t think I like the blue.” It was his sixth navy suit. Steve wanted to bash his head in.

“I still maintain I like the first one.” Dustin took another look in the mirror before nodding.

“I’ll put the first one back on.” Steve groaned at the ceiling.

Steve was Dustin’s Best Man. They had kept in close contact even as Steve moved to Chicago, worked entry-level jobs until he went to college, studied, and became a special education teacher.

Dustin had recently graduated from MIT, was living in Indianapolis with Erica. He worked at an engineering lab, was designing already. Steve was very proud. The past few months he had driven to Indy every Friday and staying through the weekend, helping him with plans, the registry, and addressing invitations. He nearly shit when he wrote Billy Hargrove’s name and address.

“Okay, I think this is the one.” Dustin was back in the first one. Steve wanted to hit his head against the wall until he fucking died.

“Okay, so we’ve got me and your mom, and the Sinclairs, and Marnie, and Robin at Table 1. Table 2 is El and Mike and Will and Seth and Reggie and Max and Angie and Lucas, which, shouldn’t he sit at table one? Family and that. Table 3 is Nancy and Jonathan and Mrs. Byers and Hopper and-” Steve choked on the next name. “Billy? Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Dustin looked up from the huge board they had been using to make the seating chart.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. You know he’s the love of my fucking life.” Steve was gawking at Dustin who rolled his eyes.

"He's not. You've just been gross and hung up on him for ten years, Steve. That's lame."

"We could've had something! We were getting close and I kept-"

"You were getting closer and you kept feeling electricity and then he died and then he was fine and then he ran away to California I know, Steve." Steve felt his face heat up He looked back at the seating chart. "Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting." He was totally pouting. "It's just, I haven't seen him in ten years. It's gonna be, what if he's moved on."

"He's not bringing a plus one."

"Maybe they couldn't come." Dustin rolled his eyes.

"Just fucking talk to him when you see him. Don't know why it has to be such a big deal."

"I can't talk to him, Dustin. what would I say?"

"Start with hi, Billy. And just see where it takes you."

"I just, it's been a while since I've dated and-"

"But it's time you moved on from Taylor. I told you that guys was bad news, and lo and fucking behold, he ends up sucking." Steve shifted uncomfortably. That relationship had ended over three years ago, ended with Steve spending two months on Robin's couch. He was still in therapy over it.

"Yeah, I know." Steve was talking to his arms, folding tightly over his chest.

"Buddy, I'm not trying to be an ass. Just saying. You're doing much better after that. And Max says Billy's really good. That he's got his life on track and is happy."

"Then he probably has someone. And he might not even be into guys!"

"Okay, then get over your lame self, and be his friend." Steve huffed. "But whatever you do, just help me finish this fucking seating chart."

Steve was fucking running.

He had been in charge of the rings, and he had, misplaced them.

Because of course he fucking did. Of course, he held onto them for weeks only to lose them on the day.

He was sweating through his white shirt in the Hawkins heat. Running from room to room in the upstairs of the old house. His parents kept the Hawkins house, just in case they were ever passing through. Steve doesn't think they've spent more than three hours in it since he was nineteen, but it gave him a free place to crash whenever he was in town.

He was tearing through rooms, anywhere he could've been these past few hours. He knows he had the rings when he put on his shirt, had them in his pocket when he realized he needed cufflinks.

He flew downstairs, rummaging through the drawer in his father's side of the bathroom, finding the rings exactly where he had stolen the cufflinks from. They were thin, gold bands. Erica's had a small diamond set into it. They were engraved on the inside, quotes for Star Wars, Dustin's holding Princess Leia's I love you, Erica's with Han Solo's I know. Steve had made fun of them endlessly when he had picked them up from the jeweler's.

"Steve, you're a fucking idiot and also a genius." He scrambled to his car, driving well over the speed limit to the venue, a historic house in the old part of Hawkins. It was grand and beautiful and much cooler than the summer air outside. Steve was so focused on delivering the rings he didn't notice the Camaro sitting out front, still in its pristine condition. He opened doors at random, getting screamed at by Erica's Maid of Honor, Marnie, when he burst into the wrong room. Marnie fucking hated Steve, and he didn't really know why. Apparently it had something to do with the engagement party. But, he got blackout fucking drunk at that thing, so he had no idea what she was so pissed about.

Well, now she was quite obviously pissed that he had slammed open the door to find her and Erica in robes, getting their makeup done. She threw a shoe at his head.

He was fucking sprinting down a hallway when he crashed right into a fucking wall, solid and steady. He was knocked back on his ass,

"Oh shit, sorry!" He looked up, finding Billy Hargrove staring down at him. "Steve fucking Harrington. As I live and breathe." Billy's hair was long, was wild and big. He was wearing a well-fitting suit, looked thick and muscled, more than he had in high school. Steve's mouth went fucking dry. Billy had his shirt unbuttoned to the bottom of his sternum, showing off a large chest piece, gorgeous flowers weaving around and through the scar on his chest. Steve could see it was healed, but still raised, pink and shiny in a few areas, the skin pulled and puckered where Billy had been stitched back together.

Billy extended a hand, a scarred tattooed hand, and heaved Steve off the floor.

"Hi, Billy." Billy grinned at him. It was softer than he remembered. "You look good."

"You seen yourself? You're still as pretty as I remember." Steve fucking giggled like a fucking schoolgirl. He had let his hair grow out some since high school. Some of the kids liked his long hair.

"What have you, what have you been up to?" Steve was overly aware of his arms. Was trying to find a way to hold himself that didn't look stupid.

"You know, California. USed my government hush money to go to culinary school. I'm a sous-chef now at a restaurant in L.A."

"Oh, wow. Congratulations. You've really, you've come a long way. You look, happy." Steve flushed a little more.

"What are you doin', Pretty Boy?" Steve's heart tripped over itself at the old nickname.

"I'm in Chicago, now. I teach special education at an elementary school. I'm actually, I'm in line to become head of the department when the current one, when she retires." Billy's eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.

"That's so perfect for you. What made you choose special ed?"

"I went to college and learned I'm dyslexic." Billy barked a laugh, one Steve had never heard before, a fucking real one.

"You didn't know? I could've told you that!"

"I mean, I just thought I was fucking stupid, but once I learned what the problem was, the university gave me some resources to help. I was actually in the nursing program, but I kept thinking about how the university helped me so much, that getting a real diagnosis was fucking life-changing, not only for school, but just in the way I thought about myself. I don't want kids to grow up like I did, convinced that their literal disability is just, just stupidity." Steve met Billy's eyes, saw them glow with fondness.

"I'm so happy for you, Steve. I'm so proud you found such an amazing calling, you seem like you've come such a long way." Billy squeezed his upper arm, made Steve melt.

"Thank you, that, that really means a lot to m-"

"Steve! I have been looking for you for hours. Where have you been, Asshole?" Dustin was stomping down the hall

"Doesn't matter. I'm here, I've got the rings, I'm ready to go."

"Did you not have the rings?" Dustin looked like he was going to explode.

"I have them! See!" Steve pulled them out of his pocket, clinking them together. "All engraved with your nerd shit and ready." Billy was watching them, an amused look on his face.

"You are a nightmare and the worst best man in the history of-"

"Can you not be dramatic for one fucking da-"

"I'm allowed to be dramatic today, I'm getting marrie-"

"You're never allowed to be dramatic you little-"

"God, you two really are brothers. You fight like siblings." They both whipped to look at Billy, giving him the exact same pissed off-glare. Billy laughed at them.

"Look, I'll get outta y'all's hair." He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, Stevie. Hope we can catch up more. Congrats, Dustin." He trotted down the hall. Dustin grinned at Steve.

"It's GOOD to see you, STEVIE. He's totally into you. It's exhausting being right all the time." Steve slapped his arm.

The ceremony was short and sweet.

Steve stood behind Dustin, handed him a tissue when he got all misty, took one for himself when he began tearing up. He noticed Billy sitting a few rows back, noticed how his eyes were always on Steve whenever Steve's trailed over to him. He was smiling softly at him, even fucking winked at Steve, made him go red and look away. Robin noticed something off about him, noticed the way he was flushed, raised her eyebrow for her spot in the first row with Claudia. He shook his head.

The cocktail hour took place outside in the oppressive heat as the large ballroom was altered from ceremony set-up, to dinner and dancing. Steve was overseeing the transition, as Dustin was extremely specific, and someone needed to deal with it.

"You've been weird all day." Robin knocked her shoulder into his. "It finally catching up to you that one of your kids is married?"

"Mike and El have been married for like, years."

"Yeah, but Dustin is your baby." Steve rolled his eyes.

"It really doesn't bug me. I just, Billy's here. We like, talked earlier. And he kept, lookin' at me." She sighed.

"You know what I've always said about Billy. When he was coming into Scoops like, every day and being all flirty. But just, be careful he's been through a lot and, I just don't want the whole Taylor situation to happen again." He shuffled his feet.

"It won't. He seemed, happy. Like he was all bright and was, was laughing, and I've never heard him laugh like that." Her eyes were soft.

"Just be careful, Dingus."

At dinner, Steve had to give his speech.

He was a wreck, had dropped his cards, and started fucking crying a couple different times. But he got laughs in all the right places, and Claudia had cried loudly so he was feeling pretty alright about it.

He had made a point not to look at Billy the whole time, couldn't fathom looking into his bright eyes as he talked. As dinner winded to a close, the bar opened, and the music began.

Dustin and Erica's first dance was so sweet, they had chosen At Last, the Etta James number that made Steve and Claudia tear up. Lucas took Erica out next, swapping with Mr. Sinclair as Claudia took Dustin.

And then the music devolved into upbeat dance numbers, kept everyone on their feet for hours.

Steve was taking a much-needed break. Nancy had worn him out during Rio, arguably the best Duran Duran dong to ever exist according to Steve.

"You're really tearing it up out there. Nice to see your taste hasn't changed at all." Billy was leaning against the bar, was nursing an amber-colored drink. Steve sipped his pink wine.

"I stand by Duran Duran." Billy laughed, leaning forward enough for Steve to feel his warmth.

"Your speech was nice."

"Thank you! I was so fucking nervous, you have no idea." It was easy talking to Billy. Felt like not a day had passed since they were sitting on the hood of Steve's car at the quarry together, throwing rocks into the water and passing a joint back and forth.

"I wanna know everything about from these past ten years." Steve took in a big breath.

"You pretty much know it all. Took me a good while to get my shit together and get through school, finding something I'm passionate about."

"But there has to be more. A lot can happen in ten years. You dating anyone?" Steve's heart lodged itself in his throat. He blinked down at his wine.

"Not right now. Last one was, uh, it really fucked me up." Billy's hand was so warm when he placed it on Steve's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I asked. You don't gotta explain." Steve blinked, shaking himself.

"Are you, are you with someone?" Billy chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, through the wild curls Steve was obsessed with.

"Nah. Hard to find guys that don't get weirded out by the scars. I've got a whole lotta baggage."

"Sorry, guys?" Billy gave him an odd look.

"Yeah, Harrington. Guys. I'm gay. That a problem?" It was the closest Billy had looked to his old Hawkins self, puffing his chest up.

"No, that's not a problem. Just didn't know is all. I'm, uh, I'm bisexual." Billy's eyebrows shot up.

"No shit?"

"No shit." Billy smirked at him.

"You know I've always had a thing for you." Steve choked on his wine, coughing harshly as Billy laughed, thumping him on the back.

"Don't say that shit to me. I've had the biggest stupidest fucking crush on you since I was seventeen. That summer before everything when to shit, when we were, like, hanging out, I kept thinking something was gonna, was gonna happen." Billy's smile fell.

"I know. I'm sorry, Stevie. I just, I wasn't good back then. I was so fucking angry, about moving to Hawkins, and everything with my dad, and then getting possessed, I wouldn't've been good to you. And you deserve good, Stevie. You wouldn't have grown like you did if you were always trying to take care 'a me."

"Sometimes, the growing hurt, and I, I wish some of it hadn't have happened."

"I know how that feels, Pretty Boy. But the growing, sometimes it has to hurt. Everything that happened to me, everything with that thing, it made me who I am, and for the first time in my whole life, I really like who I am." Steve took a breath.

"You know, I never got the story from you. Why you actually moved to Hawkins. You'd say something different and ridiculous every time I asked." Billy looked down at his drink.

"My dad. He caught me with a boy in my room. He said, he told me living in the midwest would straighten me out. I think he thought either I play straight or I'd get hate crimed."

"I'm sorry, Bill." He smiled at him, just one side of his mouth ticking up.

"Honestly, Pretty Boy. Like I said, everything really happens for a reason. That's what I live by now, because all that horrible shit, it led me here, and I'm okay."

"Good for you, Bill. I really mean that. You've made such a great life for yourself." Billy pressed in closer to him, made Steve's breath catch.

"Thank you, Sweet Thing. That means a lot comin' from you." He leaned even further into Steve's space. "You wanna get outta here? I've got a nice hotel room." Steve felt warmth spread down his spine. He hooked a finger into one of Billy's belt loops.

"You know, I've always loved that car 'a yours. First time I saw you get out of it, kept thinking about getting fucked in that back seat." Billy groaned, his head falling onto Steve's shoulder.

"It's parked right outside." Steve leaned to Billy's ear.

"Race ya."

They ran, giggling like little kids all the way to Billy's vintage car. Billy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before Steve yanked open the door, diving in the back seat.

They were still giggling as they struggled outta their clothes, making out in between items. Steve flopped down once he was undressed, pulling Billy down on top of him, laughing as Billy knocked the wind out of him.

The giggles turned to moans when Billy latched onto his neck, sucking and biting. He finally put his hand in those curls, the other trailing down his back, ghosting over the scars there.

"I love all your tattoos. So gorgeous." Billy pressed kisses down his chest. He stopped at the large scar running from the inside of Steve's collarbone a few inches down his arm.

"What's this from?" Steve stiffened under him. He sat up, brushing some hair off of Steve's forehead.

"It's, it's from a surgery I had."

"What happened?" Steve pushed his hand away from the scar.

"Shattered my collarbone." Steve was sitting up, was tugging his pants back on.

"Shit, Stevie, I'm sorry. I won't, you don't have to talk about it." Steve huffed, flopping back into the seat.

"It's okay. It's just-" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Billy tugged his own slacks back on. "The relationship I told you about. The last one I was in." BIlly's eyes went big. He took Steve's hand.

"Stevie, I'm sorry." Steve shook his head."How long were you two together?"

"A little over four years."

"Holy shit."

"I ended things over three years ago. Packed my shit and left when he was at work. Lived with Robin after that." He crossed his arms over his middle. "I should've known too. There were, there were so many red flags, but I didn't, I never really ever felt loved, and he told me that he loved me, and so I stayed. Through everything."

"Was he your first relationship since Nancy?"

"Like, full relationship. Once I moved to the city, I let myself go wild a little bit, fucked around with a lot of different people. I thought he was it for me, thought he was the one. We moved in together after about six months." Billy placed a hand on Steve's thigh.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I know how you feel. I know how painful it is to live like that."

"I know you do. And I'm, Robin and Dustin really helped me. They helped me find a support group for queer abuse survivors, and, and Robin drove me to therapies, and I'm so much better, but it's, especially the scar, it's a painful reminder." Billy leaned over, pressing a light kiss to the center of it.

"Stevie, I really like you. I'd like to do this properly. I want to take you on a date." Steve looked at him with wide eyes.

"You, really?"

"Yeah, Baby. Been gone on you since I was sixteen years old." Steve took Billy's face between each palm, kissed him softly, smiled into it, into how right it felt, these two broken boys, these two healed men finally finding one another again.

#yikes writes #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #harringrove au

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nickgerlich · 4 years

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Size Really Does Matter

The coming of the automobile and the internal combustion engine brought with it the need for gasoline. Just like modern EVs need charging stations, those old cars needed gas, like 98.5% of the cars on the road today still do.

The only problem was that gas stations were few and far between, kind of like charging stations are today. Early autoists (and that’s what they were called back then) often tied one or more jerry cans filled with gasoline to their cars so they wouldn’t run out of fuel in the middle of nowhere.

While transportation scholars and industry reps will debate when and where the first gas station was, suffice it to say it was in the early 1900s. Those early stations were nothing special, and aside from gas and a few necessary items for cars, like oil, they were tiny and didn’t allow for food or other shopping.

Skip forward to the 1960s, and both travel stops like Stuckey’s and truck stops started to appear. Stuckey’s had a small souvenir section, a grill, gasoline (of course), bathrooms, and their signature pecan logs, which probably broke more teeth than dentists could begin to report.

The early truck stops were not like the Flying J’s we see today, but were really just a normal gas station with an extra bay just for trucks. It was the beginning of a new fad that evolved quickly through the decades, to the point now that we see Flying J and their other brand, Pilot, situated right across the freeway exit from a Love’s or Petro.

Truck stops, though, in spite of their sprawling operations, restaurant, auto parts, convenience items, souvenirs, and rest rooms, developed a reputation as being dirty, seedy, and in some instances, unsafe. While I have crashed for a few hours in a truck stop parking lot, I know my wife would never ever consider doing that.

All of which opened a door for a new breed of competitor, one that cleaned up its act, doubled down on the shopping, and got rid of all those trucks and their drivers. Say hello to Texas’ home-grown Buc-ee’s and their familiar beaver mascot.

With 60 gas pumps, which, if you multiply by two for the number of sides, you will be hard pressed to ever have to wait in line to pump gas. That’s 120 different cars that can be fueling at one time.

And since they don’t sell diesel for trucks, those guys simply will not be there. Instead, Buc-ee’s has built its market around shopping. In other words, this is a travel stop, a Stuckey’s on steroids if there ever were one. Come on...Buc-ee’s is the only travel stop I know that has shopping carts and sells smokers and barbecue grills.

Because that’s what I really need when I am on vacation, you know.

Buc-ee’s is on a tear right now, not just in Texas, but also in its expansion plans across the southeast. I have been to their store on I-10 about 20 miles east of Mobile, and it is always jam-packed with tourists stretching their legs and spending stacks of cash.

Interestingly, though, Buc-ee’s has made some enemies along the way, most notably in the community of Efland North Carolina, where the Lone Star favorite had planned to build a 64,000-square-foot travel center and car wash. A very vocal group pitched a fit, complaining that the new Buc-ee’s "would worsen traffic congestion, pollute a protected watershed, and offend aesthetic sensitivities."

So loud were they in complaining that Buc-ee’s listened and scrapped their plans.

While Buc-ee’s hasn’t given up on North Carolina (it has opened or will soon be opening stores in Georgia and Florida), it realized it was just not welcome. After all, Buc-ee’s do create congestion. Have you ever been to the one in Terrell Texas near where I-20 and US 80 split? You would think the Cowboys were playing there. Numerous hotels and fast food joints have all sprung up, just because Buc-ee’s is there.

How big is too big, then? Does a convenience store or travel stop or whatever you call it have to be that big? And how many people have an hour to kill when on a long drive? I for one usually just get my gas, visit the Men’s room, and then wander a few minutes watching people go crazy over anything and everything with a beaver logo on it. I find it entertaining.

I’m not one to complain, though, because I find it all fascinating. I can’t say I know of a single Texan who doesn’t like Buc-ee’s, or for that matter, who doesn’t subscribe to the “everything is bigger in Texas” self-justification.

It’s just that maybe not everyone else gets it. Furthermore, Buc-ee’s are disruptive, and all the truck stops in America better be fastening their safety belts, because Buc-ee’s threw down its gloves and is ready to fight. Ask my wife why.

Buc-ee’s is clean. There are no trucks. No lot lizards. Plenty of bright lights. In other words, women are likely to feel comfortable going there, which means that when it comes time to get gas, it’s a done deal, whether they are traveling solo or with their family.

Sounds to me like the folks of Efland North Carolina bit off their nose to spite their face. They threw away the opportunity for retail jobs that start at $13 an hour, and go way up from there. Maybe they were influenced by the traditional truck stops who fear for their own livelihood. I don’t know.

Because in my mind, those 64,000 square feet aren‘t as big as the competitive threat that Buc-ee’s presents to an industry that is still evolving. If they can siphon off folks in cars and vans from Flying J, Love’s, et al., those traditionalists are going to be in a world of hurt, serving primarily truckers.

Nothing against truckers, because they transport the things we buy, but I’m with my wife on this one. Size really does matter, and Buc-ee’s has it.

Now get your mind out of the gutter.

Dr “Behold The Beaver“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #gasoline #fuel #travel #truck stops #travel stops #Buc-ee's

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smuttymess · 4 years

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bts astro soulmate reading | for taylor

sign: pisces sun | gemini moon | aries rising

lover: Jeon Jungkook | soulmate: Kim Taehyung

This reading is for Taylor, a Yoongi bias who regularly gets wrecked by Taehyung. You’re my first Pisces, and a a fellow Pisces I was super excited to write this one. Maknae pairings are also pretty rare for me, so this was a particularly fun writing experience. Hope you enjoy, love!

This particular water-air-fire star sign combination is one of pure dreaminess, sensuality, intuition, and imagination. In your chart you possess a true astrological triple threat: your Sun in Pisces makes you one of the most emotionally capable beings in the Zodiac, your Gemini Moon gives you intelligence and dexterity, while your Aries rising provides a fire and drive that is almost unrivaled. As a result, With your star placements, emotions run everything within your social, work, familial and love spheres. You feel deeply, Pisces, and your passion has no bounds when paired with your determined Aries Sun, which often overrides your generally logical Gemini Moon and makes you a fiery force to be reckoned with. Your Sun and Moon makes you hard-wired for spontaneity and impulsiveness, drawing energy from platonic and romantic love above all else. Given the intensity of all three signs, you are a lover who gives their all to whoever you are with, if only for the moment - Pisces/Gemini is notoriously flighty pairing and Aries is exceptionally hard to pin down to any form of commitment whatsoever. While this combination can make you appear restless and flighty to others, deep down you are a diehard romantic, craving true partnership and emotional connection with a very special someone(s). You will not, however, settle down until you feel you have met your perfect other half - someone who respects and appreciates you and the breadth of your mystic, unconventional nature. Until then, you're happy to explore all that the world has to offer.

Your Gemini/Aries combination means you are always on the go, both physically and mentally. Generally, you go where your spirit moves you, constantly seeking out your next challenge or adventure. When something - or someone - piques your interest, you are often not too slow to act and make it known. So when a man, clad head to toe in black leather, stops his motorcycle on the street in front of you, you're interested in seeing what lies under his helmet. Words are almost lost on your when you realize how attractive he is, boyish charm beneath a strong jaw and athletic build, as he asks you for directions to a nearby restaurant. His wide, doe-eyed stare and charming, innocent smile is enough to make your Pisces heart melt, and your Aries go-getter doesn't want the interaction to stop there. Your unmatched communication skills work to get the shy man to open up, perhaps feigning an interest in motorcycles just for the hell of it. Whatever plans you had for the night (likely dinner with a friend or another commitment) are immediately on hold when mystery man introduces himself as Jeon Jungkook and you suggest teach you more about his bike when he has time. Surely, your friend will understand your tardiness, or at least you hope so - this is not the first time you've been late because of a handsome stranger and with your romantic Piscean nature it certainly won't be the last.

Over the next few weeks, once you finally pull the Virgo away from his work, you and Jungkook are able to enjoy the pleasures of a budding relationship. The Virgo/Pisces relationship is one of a slow build towards romance, the Virgo moving with full intention in everything he does without hesitating to let you know he is slow, pragmatic and deliberate when it comes to love. This works out quite well for your Aries rising, which enjoys a bit of a chase - who doesn't like a challenge? Your Gemini/Aries works in overdrive to crack the code of this enigmatic man, rather quickly your intuitive Pisces Sun seeing past his more reserved exterior. Its not uncommon for the Pisces lady to fall for her Virgo man far before he does, falling for the gentle, sensitive Venus in Libra and Jupiter in Aquarius that lies beneath the surface - a side that he keeps close to his heart. The times that you feel most connected to him are during sex, one of the few places where he fully lets go and lets himself be truly vulnerable, though he still strives for perfectionism. When Pisces and Virgo finally get together, Pisces brings the highly sensual, emotional passion wherein Virgo brings stamina, vigor, and determination. While Virgo is not known to be animalistic, Jungkook's Mars in Scorpio makes him impulsive while his Venus in Libra gives him a softness, meaning you get both a sensitive and dynamic lover. You and Jungkook are able to enjoy countless nights together in bed, the incredible strength of his body against yours as your legs rest on his shoulders while he trusts into you, his stare filled with an undeniable fire as you lock eyes and your foreheads touch. In that moment, wherein his moans become more desperate and sweet words pour from his lips that you feel you belong to each other.

When you're not having sex, the ideologies of you and Jungkook are often at odds, the differences starting off mild but becoming more pronounced as you get to each other on a deeper level. Pisces mantra is "what will be will be" while Virgo more often than not lives by "I decide what will be," and while you adore Jungkook's strength you begin to believe that he is too rigid for his own good. Though your fantastical nature and sense of unpredictability is what draws you to him, his Leo Moon and Uranus in Aries does not bode well with too much indecision, making him appear more headstrong and impatient as your relationship moves further. Over time, you begin to sense his increased frustration, occasional coldness, and Virgo moods - especially when he is under heavy stress, which happens often. Your Pisces Sun innately wants to to pull him out of his rigid ways or away from his video game, while your Gemini/Aquarius wants to flee and avoid any conflict or drama. You feel misunderstood by JK, whose Sun and Mercury in Virgo deeply values logic and rationality while you prefer to act on your emotions, resulting in frequent miscommunication that drives you into increased separation. Ultimately, your overly-contrasting approaches to life, work and love prove to be incompatible, forcing you to part ways. This is not an easy breakup, however, as you know that beneath his Virgo ego and celebrity is an emotional soul who could have been everything you wanted if he were it not for his Venus in Scorpio, marked by self-consciousness and a fear of love. A pairing of this kind is likely to stay in contact, if only to check in on each other occasionally to make sure they are healthy and well, never forgetting the emotional impact they had on one another.

After a brief retreat in your inner Pisces world, your Aries/Gemini inspires you to start a new chapter, healing through connections with new people and business prospects, your vast network opening you up to various creative initiatives. It is in one of these spaces where you're introduced to Kim Taehyung. This is a pairing that may begin first as collaborators on an intensive project - perhaps his next solo track - which requires spending a great deal of time with each other to ensure each element is perfect. A Piscean loves nothing more than a good mystery, and from the moment you meet Taehyung and see his deep, brown eyes under his curls you are highly intrigued. His earthy Capricorn Sun makes him warm but stoic in his disposition, possessing a subdued persona and a cool, quiet confidence that you can't quite figure out. You are taken aback by his intelligence, fostered by his Uranus in Capricorn, which he illustrates with calmed reason and without any ego or cockiness. In getting to know each other professionally, you bond over your shared charisma towards the unique and unconventional - his Venus in Aquarius pairing nicely with your eccentric placements. Your Pisces/Gemini combination makes you one of the most imaginative and creative people on the planet - your mind constantly racing towards your big idea. Taehyung's Neptune in Capricorn and Venus in Aquarius makes him equally creative and whimsical, becoming a true supporter of your out-of-the-box ideas. Taehyung, while perhaps not saying much, enjoys sees your mind at work and more importantly knows exactly how to harness that fire and make it bloom into tangible results. Your intuitive nature is able to target Tae's desires and come up with a myriad of possibilities for his song, making his eyes sparkle with excitement as he grows more interested in your opposing yet complimentary personas. It is unlikely that you ever could resist falling for Tae at the start, your Aries/Gemini patience wanting to jump his bones almost immediately while your Pisces struggles to let things flow and develop naturally. Unfortunately, in true ram fashion, Taehyung takes his time in pursuing anything outside of the professional space, waiting until the collaboration is over before asking you to dinner - as if you hadn't been waiting for months.

Where you are the dreamer, Capricorn Taehyung is the doer. Together, your playful souls can work together to make your many visions a reality. You inevitably fall in love with each other's minds, valuing open-mindedness and creativity on a higher level. This extends into your sex lives, A powerful trait of your Pisces nature if to bring the often stubborn Capricorn out of his shell and into your fantasy world. Any logic, reasoning, or methodology the ram may want to apply to sex goes completely out the window when in the presence of the sexually experimental, curious fish. It is your Aries/Gemini that makes the first move, your body aching for him by the time you get him into his bedroom. Tae's Moon in Aries makes him quite intense, eyes igniting with lust as you sit him down on a chair in his bed, your hands moving down the length of your neck and down your belly, stopping short of your inner thigh. You possess an innate ability to light his skin on fire with a simple touch, sauntering over to kiss him gently before you move down to his neck and his ear. Few things give you more pleasure than watching him lick his lips, his eagerness to grab your hips as you stand above him almost overwhelming. He adores the way you can completely dictate the mood, a smirk forming on his lips as he realizes he is at your mercy while he is allowed to look but not touch until you say so. Once you get him going, he is more than happy to turn the tables on you, tossing you onto your back as your robe falls own, a low growl escaping his mouth he moves in between your thighs. You practically melt when his more impulsive and powerful Uranus in Capricorn emerges, his voice deepening as he teases you mercilessly until you beg him to fill you up. Sex is always an opportunity for you to connect on a level deeper than the physical, and while this is something that the Pisces woman would typically initiate, the Capricorn lover always along for the ride. You're insatiable, love. What am I going to do with you, hmm?

Ultimately, the world you and Taehyung build together is one of whimsy and stability, water and earth coming together to create your own little world of wonder and possibility. Whenever Tae gets in his perfectionist, stubborn work modes your fiery Aries is able to to give him the space you both require, independence being a key factor in what makes this specific pairing work. He is a workaholic, and you are a go-getter, so while you may grow restless at times wanting to spend time with him, there is a mutual understanding and appreciation of this shared drive. Such respect for autonomy allows you to merge after you've checked off the many items on your to-do list and enjoy quality alone time: private, silly dance parties in your secluded home or over a glass of wine overlooking your expansive grounds overlooking acres of farmland. You two are the couple that people are curious about in your enigmatic nature, constantly wondering what you are thinking or what venture you will move on to next. At the end of the day, you do not need the world to understand everything about this love - they likely never could!

#bts #bts horoscope #bts fic #astrology #astrology readings #horoscope reading #horosope #pisces #virgo #capricorn

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queenssunshine · 5 years

Text

Making a Living off of Death (1/4)

I literally cannot believe I’ve posted my first fic to AO3! This is my first fic in almost seven years, so I’m really excited to become a contributing member of fandom again.

Anyway, here’s my first Spider-boy fic, and in the spirit of Whumptober, it is of course whump.

Read On AO3 Here

When people ask him what he does, he generally tells them he’s a freelancer. On occasion they will enquire further, “A freelance what?”, to which he will respond, “Whatever I can.” That’s basically true—while he deals mostly in assassinations, he also does assaults and robberies on occasion. Sometimes he needs to put the fear of God into people. Sometimes he just needs to play God.

The hit on Tony Stark comes to him in a heavily encrypted email that takes his computer two days to work through. Sometimes clients are paranoid like that, making the orders so difficult to access that most people in the business walk away before they even know what they’re for. He supposes this isn’t a bad idea. Plausible deniability and all that. But it’s annoying for him to have to wait around for his program to work out the endless lines of tangled code. This also probably means payment will come in a similar form, which is even more annoying.

Anyway, the hit on Tony Stark gets sent to him and three other colleagues and he’s the first one to decode it (and probably the only one to try) so first come, first kill. The built-in kill code activates and his instructions unwrite themselves from the screen, his laptop defaulting to his desktop photo of the silhouette of a dog on a sunset. Alright, time to strategize.

First, he has to get to New York. Then he has to figure out how to get Stark’s schedule. Then he has to get close to him. Then he has to kill him.

Hacking into Stark’s security team is above his skill set but gaining access to his employee files ends up being pretty easy. Cross-check some names, Google some addresses, hack a local AT&T store, and boom, he has access to the personal phones of who he has decided is two key players in his plan: the head of security and an intern.

He decides these two are key because he sees them too much. Photos from expos, parties, conferences, press events—the two are a constant presence at the side of Tony Stark. The security head quite frankly looks like an oaf, and the intern doesn’t appear to be older than college age, so he decides that they can’t do too much thwarting to his plan. The more he gets to know them through the screen, the more he feels that way.

The emails that the two have sent back and forth are heavily encrypted, and there are heaps of text messages that are as well. He can’t believe it, but his main source of information is coming from the animojis that the two send each other on occasion. The intern favors the alien. The security head favors the brown bear. (The intern also thinks the security head should use the poop one more, but that’s beside the point.)

Through the animojis, GPS tracking, and some old-fashioned stalking-- er, in-person reconnaissance, he discovers that the intern is a student at a magnet school in Forest Hills and that the security head is, for whatever reason, his personal after-school driver. The relationship between the two of them seems pretty relaxed. They clearly have a long history of uneventful school pick-ups, because he just sits in the visitor parking lot and stares at them without detection as the security head pulls up in the black Audi, the intern hops in, and they wait in the long queue to get off the campus. He trails the car, but the location of drop-off changes on the daily—sometimes a restaurant, sometimes a bodega, twice it was just an alleyway. Once they went to Stark Tower, or at least he assumes that’s where they were heading, but by the time they were two blocks away he decided to drop off to avoid getting clocked on any of Stark’s cameras. Even though Stark probably had access to every CCTV in town. Sometimes you just have to play it safe.

After about two weeks of monitoring, he gets his golden ticket. His phone pings a few times in a row, and he opens it to witness an exchange between Alien and Brown Bear:

[Alien] Are we still on for after school? [Brown Bear] Yeah, he had to move some stuff around so we might be late, but we’ll still be there. [Alien] Cool! It’s probably better, I don’t want—[the alien hesitates, rotates his head, lowers voice] Mr. Stark to have to deal with people freaking out about him being here. [Brown Bear] Don’t worry about it, kid. [Brown Bear] I think he’s kind of excited to see your school and your friends. [Alien] Okay, well I’ll see you guys later then. [Alien] OH! Can we please go to Julio’s again? Please? I’m craving breadsticks. [Brown Bear] Boss says okay.

So the decision had to be made: to carry out the assassination on a high school campus, or at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. He sighs as he Googles “Midtown academic calendar forest hills,” and sighs again when he discovers that tonight is the Annual Science Fair. What will Tony Stark do in the presence of one thousand geeks and their parents: double down on security or keep it modest? He rapidly Googles some more, trying to find instances of Tony Stark, billionaire and savior of the universe, attending a high school science fair. Bingo. Seven years ago he had attended the science fair of the Bronx High School of Science, and according to r/TonyStark and r/IronMan, he had only had Brown Bear and his gauntlets at his disposal. No supplementary guards? Not wise, Stark. Still, one instance was not enough to base his operation on.

Further inquiries reveal that Stark, in his years since becoming the savior of the universe, has only grown laxer. His prosthetic arm doubles as a housing unit for the Iron Man suit, sure, but it seems to be de-weaponized most of the time. He’s spotted without security regularly—outings with clients, with the Avengers team, with the kid, all solo. Rarely a body guard appears, but it’s only when he’s with his daughter or wife. Maybe it’s because Stark thinks he’s too big to fuck with. Maybe Stark is, and maybe this is a big mess in the making. Oh well. He decides the assassination is going to go down at the school, but he needs one more thing to make it go off well. So he calls a colleague, has them transfer the encrypted message, decodes it again (but faster, thank you machine learning), backward engineers it, and makes a phone call. And a request.

Two hours later, a cloaking suit arrives at a P.O. box, to which he has the key.

Sometimes his clients gift him cool things to execute a mission, but a cloaking suit is hands-down the coolest thing he’s gotten. He didn’t know what he expected when he takes it out of the courier box, but it looks almost civilian—a thick grey windbreaker with lines of reflective material running down the sleeves, and a pair of pants to match. It’s basically a tracksuit. He’s relieved. New Yorkers have likely seen weirder things than a man dressed in full tactical attire on the subway, but it’s still nice to have a low profile.

He messes around with the settings and soon enough he’s standing before the hotel bathroom mirror almost completely invisible, only a slight warp betraying where he is. Nothing anyone would see unless they were looking for it. Without the hood on, he looks like Harry Potter on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He is—he dare say—giddy.

He deactivates the cloaking, grabs his guitar case (read: sniper rifle) and wallet and leaves the hotel.

Before getting to the school, he has a slice of pizza, a coke, and a bag of gummy bears. This is not good fuel for the potential get-away sprint, but he can’t help himself. He’s so happy, he can just feel the brewing of a good mission on its way.

He arrives at the school after classes have let out and before the end of the science fair, meaning that the parking lot is a ghost town. His cloaking suit already activated, he climbs up on his predetermined hiding spot (a portable building next to the bus parking lot which would allow him ample cover and a quick escape were things to get hairy), sets up his Barrett M82 (already sheathed in its matching grey cloaking suit), and hunkers down. He lets his mind wander as half an hour passes, thoughts looping around his ex-wife (that bitch), his breakfast tomorrow (maybe that 2.8-star diner down the street), and his dog (who was currently boarding at a doggy daycare next to his house in Kentucky and got a time-out today). Finally, families start spilling out of the front doors of the school, and from his view atop the portable, he can clearly see the faces of all exiting.

Fifteen minutes pass of parental pride and filial embarrassment before Stark, the security head, and the intern come walking out. By the time they exit, most of the fair has cleared out and only a few cars remain in the lot—probably teachers and staff. The intern is clutching a blue ribbon and a small trophy while the security head struggles to maintain hold of some kind of robotic device. Stark has his hands jammed in his pockets, strolling casually, lips quirked in a contented smile as the intern rambles about something. He can barely hear it—something about how the intern knew his project was good but didn’t think it would win an award or anything. For a moment, he pauses, feeling a little remorse. He had always wanted kids. The intern seemed pretty endearing. Oh well. Moment over.

He lines up the sight on Stark. It’s a clean shot, a beautiful shot, a stars-have-aligned-and-I’m-about-to-get-away-with-this shot, and he feels the rush of a perfectly executed assassination flow through his veins. This moment is why he mainly deals in assassinations. This high of having so much power yet not even being seen, it hits different. He drops the safety and just as his finger twitches back to the trigger the most bizarre thing happens.

The intern looks at him.

Of course, the kid can’t look at him, he has the cloaking suit on, but the kid’s suspicious eyes pass over the top of the portable and he feels violated.

Also, he squeezes the trigger thrice.

And then a more bizarre thing happens: the kid drops.

Well, shit.

#peter parker whump #iron dad and spider son #hurt peter parker #spider-man #we're basically ignoring end game #spider-man fic #fanfiction #fuck idk what to tag #norah writes

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flowerflamestars · 5 years

Note

How did Feyre and Rhysand meet in your Ivy Moon AU?

Yall know I love this backstory!

Okay, so as established in Ivy Moon: the sister’s magically hidden home is in upstate new york. Elain very briefly attended Columbia- this is the fake degree she currently uses in the human side of her career. Nesta flat-out did not go: she had just been hired by Amren at the time, and was already rising as one of the most in demand curse-breakers around. She has No Time for human life.

But Feyre, the youngest and most curious about her human father, wanted a real human experience. She gets into NYU and studies in succession: poetry, theatre, photography, before settling on making gigantic, watercolor melded canvases.

The older Archerons worry, of course. One of their Wild Hunt Uncles, Alaistair actually spends a semester posing as adjunct faculty to watch out for Fey. (It plays out like one long tweed cosplay and he leaves the avowed enemy of the history department.)

At twenty- one Feyre has been selling her art for just under a year. She’s about to graduate. But more stressful than that: she’s about to have her first solo show in the city.

A frantic spring of painting commences. Elain is on her yearly work trip to France- preforming alchemy and checking in on perfume production- but magically sending her little sister late night desserts, knowing damn well Fey isn’t sleeping. Only one batch is spiked with enough magic to make her take a break.

A month out, Amren and Nesta get called to Russia for a job.

While all this has been happening, Rhysand has been ruling the city. He does much of what his vampire father had taught him to: the magical world watches out for its own, but as the strongest, you have to be the watcher. (Nesta continually calling him a mob boss is not wrong).

He’s a respected leader, despite being the only dhampir alive. Helped along by the fact that Az had been living in witch territory for years and Cassian is the go to source of werewolf magic for the entire eastern seaboard.

It’s all going well, until Feyre walks into Az’s old diner, paint-streaked and seeking chocolate chip pancakes.

What Rhysand hadn’t admitted to either of his brothers, was that after meeting with a very concerned Columbia dean- and convincing him that no, one bronze age welsh immortal who wanted to teach the classics probably doesn’t mean faery invasion.- he’d wandered through a student exhibition.

Typical photography, found object art, and there at the back, a canvas with color so skillfully blended that his vampiric sight couldn’t find brushstrokes. (Feyre does not admit she’d made it with magic until after they’re married.)

An hour later, he’d found the director of the program and pressed five hundred dollars into her hands before taking it off the wall himself. Star Nursery I.

It was followed by Daybreak, Star Nursery II, Orion, and Mist.

Azriel owns a handful of successful restaurants, for both human and supernatural clientele. But this diner was the first of them, now mostly a human establishment, and Rhys goes there on quiet days. It still smells like Cassian’s childhood.

This quiet is interrupted by a messy haired, tiny bombshell of a witch slamming into him.

(This is the incident that sparks one of the iconic Feyre-and-Nesta-boytalk conversations referenced in Ivy Moon. Elain is the sister you go to for emotional advice, but Nesta is the one you take the sexy disaster queries to.)

Feyre is too busy dying inside to apologize because Rhys is beautiful. Classic sculpture beautiful, with big purple eyes and dressed in a three piece suit that looks like sin and smells like money. Feyre thinks, as she tells Nesta, fuck, bench press me. And runs away.

Rhys is ALSO silent: because he knows her scent. This is painting girl: and she’s a witch.

Angst proceeds: Rhys thinks Feyre ran away because she knows who he is- she does not- Feyre is horrified for days she smashed into a man that gorgeous with unwashed hair and holding an armload of chocolate chip pancakes like a disaster child- he thinks she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

But Rhys has other things to deal with: a creepy old vampire acquaintance has been stalking around NYU and Rhys wants nothing more than to throw him out of the city.

He follows Tamlins scent all the way across town and runs into Feyre again.

Witches don’t believe in coincidence. She might not know who Rhys is, but he’s a powerful something- past the incredible hotness. But she’s also by far the nicest Archeron.

So she apologizes for the first run in. Says that she has nothing to do with the city magic, and if this is his territory she’s sorry again- but she had to go to three different stores to get the right shade of green and she’s leaving now anyway.

Rhysand, devoid of all charm because Feyre turns him into a puddle: BUT A VAMPIRE IS FOLLOWING YOU

Feyre, who literally just saw him flash fang and also was kidnapped by a demon a year ago: ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

She pepper-sprays him with colloidal silver and runs away.

Being a dhampir, this doesn’t work for more than to soak his hair. But in the meantime Feyre has run right into Cassian, who was helping with the Tamlin hunt. (Cassian calls him creepy vampire malfoy. He is not wrong)

Cassian, one of those dudes who despite being a sexy mountain has that chris-evans-I respect ALL women vibe: Are you okay??

Feyre, pissed as fuck because her bag broke and now she’s going to have to go to a fourth art store: A FUCKING VAMPIRE IS CHASING ME. NO. NOT OKAY

Rhysand, skidding around the corner human fast and dripping: I DIDN’T MEAN ME. I’m not chasing you, there’s another vampire!

Cassian, gamely not laughing: I don’t know dude, that looks like chasing.

Rhysand: CAS

Cassian: Are you covered in silver spray? What the fuck, Rhys?

Feyre:

Eventually everything works out to the fact that Tamlin is straight up stalking Feyre. Rhys obviously vows to keep her safe no matter what. Having no time for any of it, Feyre says fine- not thinking AT ALL about how SEXY SEXY SEXY he is- but I’m not stopping work.

What proceeds is a month long extended shenanigan of one of the brothers being with Feyre at all times while she frantically makes art. Wanting to prove that she’s fine and can handle it all herself, she refuses to tell either of her sisters.

Somewhere, Cassian goes, WAIT, NESTA ARCHERON, CURSE-BREAKING GENIUS, SPEAKER OF THE DEAD, LEGENDARY HOTTIE, IS YOUR SISTER?

Cassian goes to Delaware to heal some werefox children, which is fine, because Rhysand is now seeing to Feyre’s around the clock protection personally.

SEXY SEXY SEXY

The show comes! Rhysand sees Feyre all dressed up and lacking any trace of paint or glitter for the first time and bites through his own tongue. He resists the urge to buy the entire gallery only barely- but Az does buy a wall sized canvas.

SURPRISE Elain came home early to see the show!

Cue Az summoning the courage to offer her a drink, all shy smiles.

Elain: Do you have any idea who the fuck that is with my baby sister?

Everyone meets. Feyre tackle hugs Elain, Elain congratulates her expansively. Az is charmed, Elain intimidates the FUCK out of Rhys, Az decides she’s his new best friend.

Feyre is called away to meet a buyer.

LO AND BEHOLD, the buyer is creepy Tamlin who tries to zoom her away at vampire speed.

But Feyre is an Archeron, raised by the wild hunt. She’s got knives under that dress and NO VAMPIRE is going to ruin her special night!

Feyre stabs him. What she didn’t know was that Nesta- protective as ever, secretly charmed her baby sister’s entire arsenal to make it a little more lethal, knowing damn well Feyre hates violence and is extremely vulnerable in the human world.

Fire magic and vampires don’t mix well.

Rhys wooshes to Feyre’s side around the time the wounds start to catch fire.

Tamlin: BUT I LOVE YOU. YOU COULD LEAVE THIS LITTLE HUMAN LIFE BEHIND.

Feyre: LITTLE? I worked for YEARS FOR THIS SHOW

Rhysand, taking in Feyre smeared in blood and ashes, with a dying vampire at her feet and still wearing that glittering black dress: Marry me

Feyre: THAT ART IS MY LIFE, YOU CREEPY, BLOODSUCKING ASSHOLE

Elain and Az arrive just in time for Tamlin’s final graphic wails. Az rushes forward to help, but Elain stops him. Hello, Elain’s seer gift.

Feyre, shaky but okay drops the knife. Rhys holds out a hand to help and then lifts her clean over the ashes. Tucked against his chest, Feyre breathes. Impossibly, begins to laugh.

Rhys, thinking she’s going into shock and taking a step back to see her face: Feyre?

Feyre, reaching up to cup his face: Of course, I’ll marry you.

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numeronubisexualhawkeye · 5 years

Text

Tuck and Roll

3060 Words

sequel to Take Cover

(got like 4 requests on here and another 4 on ao3 to finish this so i’ll be posting the next 3 chapters on my ao3, MajorMinor)

The first two weeks in Portugal were infuriating. Despite the fact that Theo was a big donor to the graduate school Clint and Natasha were pretending to be enrolled in, he was elusive. Natasha had gone against all logic and spent her days trying to go after Theo by herself, spending hours out in town and in the university, scouting out the locations they had been tipped off about Theo’s trafficking. It was hard doing it alone, or at least she felt as though she was working alone.

After their argument that first night, Clint had become reclusive. He only ever signed to her, which she only managed to catch bits and pieces of, she had only just started learning ASL which was miles different than the Russian standard she had been taught in the Red Room. Natasha had only spoken to him in Russian some days, trying to reciprocate his stubborn attitude. She knew he didn’t understand it well enough to respond, and felt it was a fair trade for him only signing to her for the first few days after their fight.

By the end of the first week though, their silent treatment had run its course. They needed to speak to each other to work and to survive, but since Clint was still too much in his own head to do that, they took to treating this as if it were a solo mission. Natasha would go out during the day and talk to Theo’s colleagues and clients, coming off as an enthusiastic grad student that just wanted to get to know him. Clint going full covert mode and spending night after night in the tow, putting that Hawkeye codename to use as he watched Theo move about the city.

Neither one of them ever had much to report back at the apartment. Theo was elusive, working as indirectly as possible when he could. Clint had caught mostly only been able to watch him through the windows of his home, which was occupied only by him and his house staff. There was nothing redeemable about what Theo was doing, but at least he had the nerve to not have a wife or kids amongst his business. By the third week, both of them were tense from their own emotions and lack of action. Clint wanted to spring a trap in Theo’s house, draw him out and ambush him. Natasha wanted to catch him off guard, get under his skin, and work her way to where she needed to be to get this job over with.

On the Friday of their third week however, there was a breakthrough, a gloriously simple one, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Natasha had been in the library of the university, flipping through some tome on Portuguese art, when she heard a murmur of voices behind her. She shut the book and looked around the shelves, and there he was; Theo.

There was a gang of students and staff going up to him, telling him how grateful they were for his generous donations to the library and various departments of the school. Natasha made her way toward him, and he caught her immediately. He waved off the people around him and stepped to her.

“Hello! Long time no see. How have you been?” he started.

Natasha slipped into the sugary voice she had used the night they first met. “Oh fine, same as always. Me and David have been meaning to get out, but work and school keeps us busy.”

Theo smiled. “Well, I’m sure I can help you with that.” He took a card out of his pocket, wrote down an address and phone number and passed it to her. “Join me for dinner someday. You can set it up with my assistant. I’d be more than happy to show you the more...secretive pleasures this city has.”

Ew. “Thank you. I’ll tell David, I’m sure he’d be glad to get to talk to you.”

Theo’s expression wavered a little at that. “Ha. Well, I hope to see you again soon Anya.”

When Natasha had told Clint about the set up, he looked annoyed, but she didn’t wait for him to have any smart remarks. “I’ve already set it up for Sunday evening. Clear your nesting hours.”

When Sunday rolled around, Natasha was itching with anticipation. Finally, something to fucking do on this mission. The restaurant wasn’t far from the apartment they had been holed up in, so she walked, Clint following closely on the adjacent streets until they both reached the restaurant, where Theo was waiting outside.

“Ah, Anya, I’m so glad to see you.” he had his arms stretched wide for a hug. “Where’s David?”

“He got food poisoning, but he sends his regards.” She heard Clint chuff out a laugh in her comm.

Theo led them inside to a table toward the back of the restaurant. There was a guard standing on either side of the table, which put Natasha on alert. Theo may have presented himself as an elusive and private man, but this was a clear indicator of his shady dealings on the side.

Clint was somewhere in the upper floors of the neighboring building, watching through windows and seeing she and Theo's every move while being completely invisible to any untrained eyes. Natasha felt about as safe as possible on missions like this. Even if Theo or either of the men standing guard beside him tried something, she could take them out, and if she couldn't, well, Clint's code name wasn't Hawkeye for nothing.

She drank one glass of wine and picked over her food. She may not have been as susceptible to alcohol as Theo may have been, but she didn't want him to get the idea that she was too comfortable around him. This had been arranged as something strictly professional, discussing the programs at the university, gaining his trust so she could get into his professional circles, not personal.

“So, Anya,” Theo said, “what exactly brought you and your um, husband, here?” He said ‘husband' the way little kids talk about broccoli. It was something gross and annoying, something he wanted to push to the edge of his plate and flick to a dog waiting under the table.

Clint could hear everything through the wire she was wearing. Natasha gave a small smile. “Well when we met in undergrad, we were both on a humanities track, European history and all. So when we graduated, and then married, we decided, why not come to the heart of where all great exploration began y'know? Get a hands on experience in that history.”

Theo smiled and laughed. “Smart girl you must be. Not many people appreciate a woman with so much, curiosity and appreciation for the Old World.”

“Well we both paid 35k to get degrees in it, so I would hope to have a bit of appreciation for it.” Natasha tried to keep bringing Clint, well, David, in the conversation, keep Theo's focus professional. His files had said that he worked with his traffickers and clients through his allies, professors and politicians with a taste for their students and interns.

Professional is what was preferred, but Natasha had a sick feeling that she was going to have to take the personal route. This mission was already going into its third week without much progress. The stress of this mission plus the added weight of the tension between she and Clint made working conditions seem far worse than they actually were. Natasha just wanted the whole thing to be over with so they could go back stateside, and she could request a new partner.

“Ah, you Americans and your money. I can respect it though, spending it on such a quality education.” Theo said as he waved down the waiter. “I’ll take check now. Both our meals are together.”

“Oh no, I can pay.” Natasha said determined. Professional, this was professional, she didn’t want Theo to get any funny ideas. But he had funny ideas when he first saw her, and when she took this dinner. He was expecting something from her now, especially after three weeks of trying to weasel herself to this exact scenario.

“Please, it’s my pleasure.” Theo’s voice dropped to that low gravelly tone older men take up when they think they’re being sexy, when in reality they sound like a dog with a bad chest cold.

“Natasha.”

Clint’s voice in her ear was a shock, and she fumbled with her reply after he disrupted her. “Well, if you insist, but I’m not making this a habit.”

“Natasha.” Clint was sounding more irritated. The fact that he was saying anything at all was a surprise to her. There hadn’t been anything especially insightful during this dinner. All she had learned was Theo was the same as every old sleaze that preyed on women; too much money, and not enough people telling him no. Natasha was begging for anything, anything to happen so she could get an opening on this guy. How could someone this simple be so hard to infiltrate?

The waiter left to bring back the check, and it was just the two, well three, counting Clint’s now active part in this conversation, of them.

“So,” Theo started, “any plans for the rest of the night?”

Fuck. It was such an obvious move to get any intel that she needed to wrap this mission up, but she didn’t want to do this. But why? She had slept with more men for work than she had for her own enjoyment, it was the one death she couldn’t escape, even now after so many months with Shield.

“Don’t you dare.” Clint’s voice said harshly in her ear. She wanted to be irritated with his interjections, she dealt with men like Theo for a living, she could handle this. But something about having Clint in her ear made her anxiety worsen. He was watching her, he could see everything, hear everything, Theo didn’t know, but what if he did? Was he trying to set her up? Would they get back to his penthouse and there would be Clint, tied up and beaten to a pulp by one of Theo’s goons? No, he couldn’t know, he had barely lifted his gaze up from the neckline of her dress, even with the modest cut he wouldn’t stop staring.

Why was she so worried? This was work, Theo was work. Clint was a part of work. But when Theo reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of her’s, she pulled back harder and faster than she had meant to. His touch snapped her out of her stupor.

“I’ve got to get home to David.” she said. Clint’s cover name felt like an anchor, and just like everything about this night and this mission, she hated it. Why did he have such a hold on her all of a sudden? Why was she letting Clint’s hooks get into her? Natasha had dealt with men like Theo, would keep dealing with them even if she ever had the chance to leave Shield. They had barely spoken to each other since the first night, but now all of a sudden, she wanted to be home, no, in the apartment, don’t make this personal Natasha. She wanted to be in the apartment with Clint. Why? Why, fucking why?

“Ah, perhaps another time then.” Theo said, if he caught wind of her sudden anxiety, he didn’t show it. He leaned across the table to grab Natasha’s hand and kiss it, but she snatched away and got up abruptly.

“Until next time senhor.” Natasha said before she whipped around and walked out the restaurant.

The entire walk home, Clint was silent in her ear. She caught a few quick glances of him moving through the streets as they both made their way back to the apartment, but neither one of them made a sound. He had reached the apartment before her, the door already unlocked when she got there. Inside, he was sitting on the couch, but his posture was rigid, and he stood up when she stepped inside.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“If you have something smart to say, just say it Barton.” Natasha snapped. She didn’t give him time to answer, just kicked off her heels, and shut the door to the bedroom.

Again.

No.

You sound like a porn star.

Do it again.

Come on babe.

Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again.

Again.

Natalia!

You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous

“Natasha.”

Do you want to go back under?

Do it again.

“Wake up.”

Anya.

You’re not like the others.

Do you like that?

Natalia.

“Nat.”

Any plans for the rest of the night?

“Natasha. NATASHA!”

She bolted upward, butting her forehead against something hard. She winced and pushed away at whatever she had hit, hands fumbling in the dark. Her fingers brushed against skin, and she screamed.

“Hey, hey!” a light switched on, and there was Clint, kneeling in bed beside her. “Chill, you’re okay. You’re okay.” his voice was soft but stern.

Natasha got out of bed and stood there staring at him for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The back of her neck was beaded with sweat despite the fact that the air conditioning was on full blast. She felt shaky and a little disoriented. She stumbled forward, trying to muster up the attitude she had had with him the last couple of weeks so she could push him out of the room and go back to sleep. But she tripped over herself and had to put her hands down in front of her to catch her on the mattress.

“Woah, are you okay?” Clint inched forward on the bed, hands outstretched cautiously. Did that Theo guy give you something?”

She shook her head. She was fine, wasn’t she? Theo was just another disgusting human to be dealt with, she could handle this, she could. But why was his voice in her head hours later? But it hadn’t just been Theo’s voice. It was never just going to be Theo’s voice.

A shiver ran through her body, and Clint noticed. She felt his weight settle next to her on the edge of the bed. “Nat.”

She swallowed hard and took in a gulp of air. What did she want to say? What could she say? Sorry for waking you up with my nightmare screaming. Go back to the couch, I’ll be fine once we kill this guy.

“Do you need some water? Aspirin?” Clint asked.

Natasha’s voice finally remembered how to work. “Vodka.” she said hoarsely. “Well, anything alcoholic, if we have it.” Clint nodded and went to the kitchen.

Natasha sat in the same position, barely moving while he was gone. There had been so many men like Theo before that she couldn’t count them if her life depended on it. Human traffickers, drug peddlers, arms dealers, straight up fucking war criminals, why was he sticking so hard and why had he brought them all back into her head at once? And he hadn’t just brought up the men she had killed or put away. Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again. The Red Room. The instructor who had trained her to do the very thing she was supposed to do without any fear or anxiety was coming back years later, and her voice still sent waves of emotions so horrible Natasha didn’t have words in any language to describe them.

She was glad when Clint finally came back into the room with a glass of vodka in one hand and the entire bottle in the other. She took the bottle and shot back a few gulps before setting it on the nightstand.

“Bad dream” Clint asked.

“Bad life.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both of them taking swigs from the bottle, the glass forgotten on the nightstand. She was starting to cool off, the sweat on the back of her neck feeling too cold against her skin. The shakes in her body had stopped, and she could breathe easily again. Despite all that, she was wide awake.

“How did you hear me?” she asked suddenly.

Clint passed the bottle back to her. “What?”

“You. How did you hear me?” she looked over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:36 in the morning. “I know you don’t sleep with your hearing aids in, especially not on non-violent missions like this. So how did you hear me?”

He turned his face away from he, unable to answer. He might not have been looking, but Natasha knew the body language, it was shame. But what for?

“I kept them in tonight.” he finally said, face still away. “You looked so rattled when you got back, thought that guy might have slipped you something, so I stayed awake as long as I could until I was certain you were asleep and no one would break the door down. I heard you screaming about thirty minutes after I fell asleep.” His words came slowly, like he kept debating if he should stop, or change his story, but he didn’t.

There it was, that concern that she didn’t need. She tensed again, preparing to be angry, but the feeling swelling in her chest wasn’t hot, it was a different kind of heat. Her entire body felt flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have bad nights. Comes with the job. Just gotta hope they don’t turn into even worse days.” He got up from the bed. “You can keep the bottle.”

“Clint,”

But he was already to the bedroom door, closing it gently behind him. Natasha let out a sigh, took a few more swigs from the bottle, and went back to sleep. She left the light on, just in case she woke up again, but she didn’t.

When she awoke that morning, Clint was gone. She called him a couple times, but there was no answer. No note, nothing missing from the apartment, his bow and arrows still stashed in the closet by the front door. What she did notice though, was the news report on the tv when she switched it on as she sat down to eat breakfast.

Theo was missing, and so was her partner.

#k.txt #clintasha #fic tag

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disappearingground · 5 years

Text

The Jenny Lewis Experience

The New York Times July 24, 2014

A version of this article appears in print on July 27, 2014, Page 18 of the Sunday Magazine with the headline: The Jenny Lewis Experience.

By Jeff Himmelman

“They’d put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on,” Jenny Lewis said. We were sitting in a restaurant in Laurel Canyon, not far from her home, and she was describing her early childhood with parents who made their living performing as an itinerant Sonny-and-Cher-style lounge act called Love’s Way. “We lived in hotels,” she said. “My sister and I, they would just keep us in the hotel room, and they’d go down and play.” When Lewis was born in 1976, her parents were doing a stand at the Sands. They split up when she was 3, and her mother — herself the daughter of a dancer and a vaudeville performer — took Jenny and her sister to Van Nuys, in the San Fernando Valley, where she worked as a waitress and struggled to keep her family afloat. “We were on welfare,” Lewis said, before describing the day their fortunes changed, when an agent picked young Jenny out of a crowd at her preschool. “I think mostly because I was a redhead,” she said. “And I was a weird little kid, a weird little tomboy.”

She soon landed her first commercial, for Jell-O, and came under the wing of Iris Burton, an eminent children’s agent who represented River and Joaquin Phoenix and Fred Savage. Lewis started working steadily in commercials, television (“The Golden Girls,” “Growing Pains,” “Mr. Belvedere”) and film (“The Wizard,” “Troop Beverly Hills,” “Pleasantville”), living the surreal and somewhat communal life of a child star in the ‘80s. She spent her days being tutored on set and her evenings at places like Alphy’s Soda Pop Club in Hollywood, which catered exclusively to kids in the industry. At a party there when Lewis was 10, the actor Corey Haim handed her a cassette tape with Run-D.M.C. on one side and the Beastie Boys on the other. “There have been a couple of cassette tapes that have changed my life,” she said, “and that was the first one” — the tape that got her hooked on hip-hop, which eventually led her to songwriting.

I asked Lewis when she first fully realized the role she played in her family, the depth of their dependence on her. “Eight years old,” she said. “I remember the moment. That’s a pretty big thing for a kid to realize. And I remember the power in that.” By the time she was 14 or 15, with nobody to answer to, she could be as wild as she liked as long as she showed up to work and hit her marks. “I was up for it, honestly,” she said. “I loved the work and I loved the people, and it kind of prepped me for what I do now.”

What Lewis does now, the music she makes, is hard to characterize. She is often compared with Joni Mitchell and Emmylou Harris, and there is a kind of timelessness to the way she writes and sings. But the throwback stuff doesn’t quite capture her. Among some music fans — including many other well-known musicians — Lewis is considered a kind of indie goddess, a stylish performer who defies genre and salts her songs with a sly and off-kilter intelligence. Her first band, Rilo Kiley, signed a major-label deal with Warner Bros. Records in 2005; her first side project, the Postal Service, led by Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie, sold more than a million copies of its debut; and she has released two well-received solo records since then. Next week, she will release a third, “The Voyager,” her first solo effort in six years. It has been a battle to get it out. Among other things, she has dealt with the death of her father, writer’s block and bouts of insomnia so severe and debilitating that she said they left her almost unable to function for nearly two years.

You’d never guess that from meeting her, though. She talks like a true child of L.A. — the “bro"s and “dude"s flow freely, without affectation — and her go-to traveling costume is a vintage Adidas track suit, Adidas shell-top sneakers and, on the day I first met her, hot-pink lipstick and oversize sunglasses. She lives with her longtime boyfriend and collaborator, the musician Johnathan Rice, up a long canyon road in the hills that separate the San Fernando Valley from downtown Los Angeles. Her house (called “Mint Chip” for its brown-and-light-green exterior) is set into the hillside, looking out over a ravine. There is a rehearsal space with a drum kit, a P.A. and some vintage gear, an old piano in the living room and a vinyl edition of James Taylor’s “Sweet Baby James” propped up beside the fireplace. Beyond the small pool in the back yard there’s a windowed gazebo that Rice uses as his songwriting space. Whatever you are imagining of the California light and the laid-back lifestyle: yes.

Historically, nearby Laurel Canyon has been synonymous with a certain kind of lush ‘60s acoustic-and-multipart-harmony sound, but Lewis’s musical roots spring from the ‘90s and the smart indie rock of Elliott Smith and Pavement. When she was 20 or so, her acting career wasn’t where she wanted it to be, and she saw that she needed to make a change. “I was the best friend,” she said. “I was the friend, forever. I wanted the big, juicy roles, and they didn’t come to me.” (She read for the part of Bunny in the Coen brothers’ film “The Big Lebowski,” for one, but didn’t get it.) She had known Blake Sennett, another former child actor, since she was 17, and they began writing together and eventually formed Rilo Kiley.

She and Sennett dated and broke up and kept playing together. The relationship was always fraught (Gibbard remembers Lewis screaming at Sennett over the phone during the first Postal Service tour), but Lewis said it gave her the confidence she needed to become a real songwriter. “Through my partnership with Blake, I found a voice within myself that I didn’t know I had,” she said. “It sounds kind of cheesy, but I figured out who I was.” From the first lines of the first song on Rilo Kiley’s debut record, a track called “Go Ahead,” you can hear the DNA of the musician Lewis has become nearly 15 years later — a floating, distinct voice, an unpredictable melody, a wryly subverted rhyme.

The link between songwriting and autobiography is a tantalizing but tenuous one, and Lewis prefers to preserve as much mystery as she can. But she affirms that she has never written anything more personal than “Better Son/Daughter,” one of the strongest tracks off Rilo Kiley’s second record, “The Execution of All Things.” The song is about waking up in the morning and being unable to open your eyes or get out of bed: “And your mother’s still calling you, insane and high/Swearing it’s different this time.” Eventually it opens into an anthem of wounded fortitude, the kind you can imagine cars full of young women screaming along to. The actress Anne Hathaway, one of Lewis’s close friends, told me that she still turns to that song whenever she’s struggling. “It’s become almost like a prayer,” she said.

Outside whatever veiled references she makes in her music, Lewis doesn’t talk much about her mother. She acknowledged that it was a “difficult relationship” and that she didn’t have a “traditional upbringing,” but that was about it. At one point, I referred to a report in The Boston Globe in 1992, when Lewis was 16, noting that she owned a house in Sherman Oaks and a townhouse in North Hollywood. “We lost all of that,” she said, with a blankness I hadn’t seen from her before. I asked her why. “We just lost ‘em,” she said. “I achieved a lot as a child, I supported my family, but in the end we lost it all.”

In 2004, Rilo Kiley toured with Coldplay, but Lewis was still scraping by, living in a small apartment in Silver Lake with an Iranian rockabilly musician she found on Craigslist. In her bedroom, when she wasn’t on tour, she wrote the songs that would become “Rabbit Fur Coat,” her first solo record. The idea for it came from Conor Oberst, the songwriter (also known as the frontman of Bright Eyes) who helped form Saddle Creek Records, which had put out “The Execution of All Things.” “I encouraged her,” Oberst told me. “You know, why don’t you step away from this thing that is obviously causing you a lot of distress and make a record on your own?” Sennett had already made a solo record, which upset Lewis. “I was so jealous if someone else got Blake’s musical attention,” she told me. “I was shattered by it.” She made “Rabbit Fur Coat,” she said, in part to prove that “I can do it too on my own — I don’t need you.”

The songs on “Rabbit Fur Coat” are ethereal and haunted, rooted in deep Southern and gospel-inflected melodic traditions. On the record’s title track, Lewis’s lyrics again invite comparison with her family life:

Let’s move ahead 20 years, shall we? She was waitressing on welfare, we were living in the valley A lady says to my ma, “You treat your girl as your spouse You can live in a mansion house.”

And so we did, and I became a hundred-thousand-dollar kid . . . But I’m not bitter about it I’ve packed up my things and let them have at it And the fortune faded, as fortunes often do And so did that mansion house

Where my ma is now, I don’t know She was living in her car, I was living on the road And I hear she’s putting stuff up her nose . . .

After the record was done, Lewis went on tour with Rilo Kiley. When the band played the Showbox in Seattle in 2005, Gibbard picked her up after sound check. They’d become friends during the Postal Service tour a few years earlier. As they drove around in Gibbard’s car, Lewis played the new songs for him. “I just remember, all hyperbole aside, being completely blown away,” Gibbard said. “It was undoubtedly the best thing that she had done.” The press shared Gibbard’s reaction, and Lewis got more attention on her own than Rilo Kiley had ever gotten as a band. “Everything was so easy for the first time,” she said. “It just unfolded so naturally. And then going out on the road and touring was the most fun I’ve ever had on tour. There was no tension for the first time.” Rilo Kiley would put out one more record, but it soon became clear that it would be their last.

“I want to show you something,” Lewis said. We were talking in her kitchen about her second solo release, “Acid Tongue,” which she recorded over three weeks in 2008 at the legendary Sound City Studios in Van Nuys. The record had a bunch of special guests on it — Elvis Costello, Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes — but the most meaningful one was Lewis’s dad, who died in 2010. In the living room, she pointed out a glass vitrine on top of the piano that held one of her father’s chromatic bass harmonicas. Before the “Acid Tongue” sessions, she hadn’t spoken to her father in years, but she felt comfortable enough with the musical family she had created around her — Rilo Kiley’s drummer, Jason Boesel; Johnathan Rice; some other musicians from the Laurel Canyon set — that she thought she could handle having him around. He played on the track “Jack Killed Mom,” and the reunion helped Lewis forgive him for leaving the family all those years ago. “He was playing lounges in Alaska,” Lewis said of when she tracked him down and asked him to play on the album. “That’s why I never saw him. It was not a malicious thing. My dad was a savant. He never drove a car, he never had a bank account,” she said. “I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know? I think he was just playing his gigs, trying to make a living.”

“Acid Tongue” was also a step toward recording everything all at once, live, to an analog tape machine — instead of in pieces to a computer. It’s a process that Lewis has developed a devotion to, and one that the songwriter and producer Ryan Adams would push to an extreme on “The Voyager.” (After “Acid Tongue,” Lewis and Rice released “I’m Having Fun Now” in 2010, an underrated duo record that failed to get the kind of traction they hoped for.) For the last few years, Lewis had been sitting on many of the songs that would make up “The Voyager,” battling insomnia and struggling to get them down. She ran into Adams in Los Angeles and told him she had some songs she was working on, and he invited her to come by his studio, Pax-Am, on the Sunset Strip. She played a few of the tunes for him on her acoustic guitar.

‘My dad was a savant,’ Lewis said. ‘He never drove a car, he never had a bank account. I don’t even know if he realized that he wasn’t around, you know?’

“My initial impression was there were some really minimal but necessary things that had to happen,” Adams told me. “I could tell that she had sat with them a little too long.” (Lewis agrees: “I was like: ‘Dude, go for it. Help me.’ ”) On the first song that they worked on together, “She’s Not Me,” they changed the key to relax Lewis’s voice, and then Adams and his production partner, Mike Viola, strapped on electric guitars and rolled through the full song, three times, with Lewis playing and singing live with a backing band. Adams pronounced the track finished for the time being and said they would move on, without even listening back to what they’d done. “For Jenny, revisionism wouldn’t have worked,” Adams said. “The version she would play on the couch in the control room, we would just stand there, like, ‘Wow, this is classic songwriting.’ Every time. So that was sort of my mission. How do we get an ‘unmind’ vibe here and then go back later and look at these beautiful raw takes and just splash a little bit of watercolor on them.” Lewis ended up recording the bulk of the record with Adams over 10 days. (She worked on the single, “Just One of the Guys,” separately with Beck before she and Adams went into the studio together.)

“The Voyager” is an older and more direct record than her previous two. Her characters are still drinking and doing blow and cheating on each other, but there is a kind of weariness to it all. One line in particular has caught the early attention of some of her many female fans, during the bridge of “Just One of the Guys”: “There’s only one difference between you and me/When I look at myself all I can see/I’m just another lady without a baby.” She has been hesitant to acknowledge what that line specifically means to her. “I wanted to communicate some very basic things,” she told me, without saying what they were. She was already starting to regret having talked about some of her other struggles while making the record, including open discussion of the insomnia that plagued her. “Now everyone’s asking me about insomnia, which I’m terrified is going to happen to me again,” she said. “You can’t think about it too much, and everyone’s asking me about it, and I’m like, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ But, [expletive], am I not going to get to sleep again?” You could hear the fear in her voice. “It’s my fault for putting it out there,” she said.

The video for “Just One of the Guys,” which got more than a million views in its first 24 hours online, was made with the actresses (and Lewis’s friends) Anne Hathaway, Brie Larson, Kristen Stewart and Tennessee Thomas. It’s an entertaining video, part Robert Palmer, part Beastie Boys, with the women spending half the time playing a sleek female backing band and then switching into male roles, clowning around in Lewis-inspired Adidas track suits and fake mustaches. Lewis, as herself, holds up a positive pregnancy test, to which Lewis-in-drag-and-fake-goatee responds, “It’s not [expletive] mine.” When she gets to the “just another lady without a baby” line, she smiles at the camera and then dances. It’s a house of mirrors, a romp through emotionally treacherous terrain.

When I visited Lewis in June, she and Rice (she calls him “Rico”) showed me an early cut of the video in the bedroom of their house, with Lewis calling out “bra shot” whenever we caught a glimpse of her cleavage. Driving down the hill toward dinner later, we got to talking, if somewhat obliquely, about the expectations of her female fans and the sexuality that is inseparable from who she is and the music she makes. She didn’t like to talk about feminism, she said, and in particular the trend of women criticizing one another for not being feminist enough: “What does it matter what I think of Lana Del Rey?” In the months before the release of “The Voyager,” Lewis has taken to wearing airbrushed suits for her live shows, rather than the sexier get-ups she used to wear onstage; she has said she feels “androgynous” these days and wants her costume to reflect that. But not always. As we made our way down the ravine, she told a story about the day President Obama came to visit a compound not far from Mint Chip. She wanted to go out for a run, but a Secret Service member stopped her and told her she needed an ID if she wanted to get back through the security cordon. “I was like, ‘Dude, I’m wearing short shorts,’ ” Lewis said. " ‘You’ll remember me.’ ”

After recording and touring mostly with men in the early days, Lewis now consistently seeks out women for her band and even tried to put together an all-female crew for the “Just One of the Guys” video, which she also directed. She said her desire to work largely with women was a response to the dissolution of her relationship with her mom. “The more I surround myself with women, the easier it is to reconcile my past in a way.” It seems to be serving a kind of psychic need, to replace the female relationship that once dominated her life with a kind of surrogate family of her choosing, a family that has stood behind her through the struggles of the last few years.

“I’m happy to see her making records,” Beck told me. “I just feel like music needs her. It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician. She’s this great combination of so many things.” Conor Oberst shares that view, describing Lewis as one of the most important songwriters and performers in contemporary music. “Go see her play,” Oberst said. “Because we should all feel lucky to be around while she’s doing her magic.”

On a night in early June, at a sold-out show at the 9:30 Club in Washington, Lewis had her magic all lined up and ready to go. Backstage, she was relaxed, joking with her band and casually doing her makeup in the mirror on the wall. Just before show time, one band member disappeared, but Lewis was unperturbed. “It’s O.K.,” she said with a smile when he showed up, apologizing, just as they were about to go on. “You made it!” She took a sip of red wine out of a plastic cup and then walked up the steps to the stage.

‘I just feel like music needs her,’ Beck said. ‘It needs someone doing what she’s doing. She’s got a special voice, as a writer, and then as a musician.’

To watch Lewis perform live is to understand what Beck and Oberst and other musicians admire in her. “She turns into this other person on stage,” Gibbard said, “this unbelievably powerful performer” — and it’s true. Lewis is both a natural and a pro. Throughout the night, she had big middle-aged guys and teenage girls — “teeny little chickens,” as she called them later — singing along to every word. During the encore, Lewis sang the ballad “Acid Tongue” accompanied only by her acoustic guitar and the rest of her band grouped around a microphone behind her. “To be lonely is a habit,” Lewis sang, her voice ringing out in the near-silent room, “like smoking or taking drugs, and I’ve quit them both. . . . " The audience and her band belted along with her as she finished the line: “But man was it rough.”

It was one of those lovely moments you hope for in live music, when everything in the room connects. But it was also a kind of emblem of where Lewis has been and of where she is now. She has overcome all kinds of obstacles to get here, often with great style, but it hasn’t always been pretty. Whatever demons stole her sleep for these last few years, they’ve surely been with her forever, in one form or another. But they are also what gives such depth and soul to what she does. “I’m not looking for a cure,” Lewis sang, and as she stood in the spotlight at the 9:30 Club, nobody there would have thought she needed one.

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ericank3r · 5 years

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that’s ERIC ANKER walking down the street, the twenty-four year old, who looks like bex taylor-klaus. here in apple peak, they are a fisherperson & videographer. some say they act like prince eric from the little mermaid, since they can be easygoing, but also a little bit directionless.

its ya favourite sailor <33333333 i already love them so much and its 70% bc its bex taylor klaus jvhbskjfhr

pls remember eric is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns!

exteriors

the anker family are danish and old, they moved from europe to america in like the 18th century so they’re super old

they’re an important part of the fishing industry in apple peak

they also have a military history -- eric’s father was a lieutenant commander in the navy before retiring to be a fisherman

they were never really rich, they were more just ?? known by a lot of people ??

their commercial fishing business is small and largely family-owned, with a only a few employees and boats left

largely doing salmon tendering because it’s the simplest

their house is like a big old lighthouse that used to be navy barracks, and it’s like SO OLD but none of them (including eric) really want to update it because it’s like the aesthetic.

so eric ends up doing most of the renovations

the entire family hoards stuff honestly

then about four years ago, eric’s father dies in a boat accident while out near the fisheries.

eric’s mother begins to rely on eric, but eric sort of runs away for three years

eric took their father’s ship and just crossed oceans and went as many places as they could

didn’t really get to go around the world, just around the americas and canada.

stayed in a few cities, did odd jobs

comes back to find their mother is thinking of selling the business and all the boats entirely. all that’s left of their family is the mother, eric, their old family-friend (griggs) and some loyal employees.

eric doesn’t want to sell the business because it was their father’s whole life, but also doesn’t want to take on the business themselves.

NEVERTHELESS, eric starts to work a few days a week, while their mother manages everything

eric doesn’t actually know what they want to do lmfao

they know they love exploring, they love experiencing as many things as possible, AND they love the sea.

but what is a career?? what’s a life??

ERIC’S BOAT! they practically live on it

mainly because the lighthouse is so far away from town, and they cbf going all the way with a car and then going on a boat, so they live on their boat most of the time

when the weather’s tough, or when eric gets sick of microwaveable food, it’s so easy to just ride the boat to their family’s personal dock and then just go up to the lighthouse

model of boat: beneteau oceanis 423

the name of the boat is “the vernian” -- named after jules verne

ERIC HAS MAX

over the three years that they were exploring, eric discovered that they really liked filming and making videos and also taking pictures. so right now while they’re working a few days on the boats, they also have a side-job as a videographer for functions (mainly it’s been birthdays and small celebrations)

doesn’t have an official business name or anything yet, they’ve been hired via word-of-mouth

but yeah filmmaking is their real passion, because it’s the best way to try and capture how they feel when they see the world <33

interiors

a SUPREME romantic, but will never outright admit it

very sarcastic, sort of light humour with people

for the people who would have known them since they were kids: their birth name was ‘eirin anker’, but for as long as they could remember, they’ve been telling people to just call them “eric” instead

ACTUALLY, they liked the name ‘eric’ after watching ‘the little mermaid’ as a kid. they just loved the idea of being that hero -- the one with a dog they loved, and the one who loved the sea and being on a boat

lowkey ended up fashioning their own life after prince eric

this is all very subtle tho, and not something they point out or like to talk about usually

max has been their dog for only a year, the family dog back then was named “geraldine”

hasn’t ALWAYS been happy with themselves tho

eric always had a tendency to just kind of run away from problems and disappearing

doesn’t really like schedules and being told what to do and having to adhere to a whole life’s plan. also doesn’t like confrontation and doesn’t know how to process all that

when they were younger and had difficulty figuring out their identity, they took their boat out and just stayed out on the sea

that’s their main way of dealing with things honestly

but three years at sea helped them gain some of that confidence

their solo sailing trip did a lot tbh, and a lot happened so i’ll probs elaborate on that during rping but aLSO PLOT BC OUR CHARACTERS COULD HAVE MET !!

the only thing they’ve ever been sure about is their identity. other than that ?? what is the future ??

very sensitive to people’s emotions and comfort levels

SOFT (TM) but also SASSY (TM)

just wants the world to be a more calm place

yet even with all this uncertainty and nervousness, eric can be a real stickler for being punctual lmfao. can’t control their future but believes they could at least be on time for things.

MORNING PERSON

never gets motion sickness

possible plots!!

someone they met during the sailing trip! it was for 3 years, so from like late 2016 to early 2019? eric just got back january-ish

lovers, friends, enemies, pls

someone who works at the docks/near the beach, they would probably meet everyday

a barista they always get coffee from at the asscrack of dawn pls

restaurants, diners -- a waiter who always sees eric bc eric likes to eat a heavy meal once theyre back on land

someone wHO FISHES WITH THEM

need me that beachlife/boatlife

#curse:intro #( info )

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amostexcellentblog · 6 years

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Classic Movies for Beginners: Case File #3: The MGM Musicals

The world is a stage, The stage is a world of entertainment!

Director(s): Vincente Minnelli; Stanley Donen; Charles Walters; and Others

Starring: (Deep Breath) Judy Garland; Fred Astaire; Gene Kelly; Cyd Charisse; Debbie Reynolds; Donald O’Connor; Frank Sinatra; Jane Powell; many more.

Watch if You Like: Musicals. Seriously, the MGM musicals still define the genre in the popular imagination. So even if you’ve never seen one (and you have seen one, The Wizard of Oz) you’re probably familiar with the style. Almost every recent hit movie musical--La La Land, Hairspray, The Greatest Showman, High School Musical--was shaped in some way by the bright technicolor sweetness of these movies. So if you’re a fan of any of those films, a theater geek, or just curious about what the movie musical was like at its peak, enjoy.

Since I could talk for days about these movies, I’ve decided to just do a quick list of the 10 most essential titles There are, of course, many other musicals from the studio that are worth a watch, but I’m trying to control myself.

Singin’ in the Rain (1952): Everyone’s favorite musical! In case you’ve been living under a rock: Don Lockwood (Kelly) is a silent movie star famous for his films with shrill-voiced Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen). Talkies seem poised to ruin them until his pal Cosmo (O’Connor) gives him the idea to do a musical with his girlfriend (Reynolds) dubbing Lina’s voice. No summary can ever capture what makes this movie such a complete joy to watch. Every song, every dance, every performance is just flawlessly executed to put a great big smile on your face. It’s one of the few movies that deserves to be called perfect.

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944): A year in the life of the Smith family in 1903 St. Louis, the year the world’s fair came to town. There are four daughters, second-eldest Esther (Garland) is on the cusp of adulthood, starry-eyed, and filled with young love for the boy next door (Tom Drake). Youngest is Tootie (Margaret O’Brien), mischievous and morbidly fascinated by death in a way only an innocent child can be. Father (Leon Ames) gets a job in New York, a move that threatens the family’s fragile innocence. Will they go?

Minimalist plot doesn’t sound like much, but it’s actually a great coming-of-age movie. Beneath its nostalgic sheen there are some darker moments that deal frankly with the loss of innocence that comes with growing up. Garland debuts “The Trolley Song” and the holiday standard “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” which she sings with a more heartbreaking style than you’re likely to hear now. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, now...” she sings, as if you might never have another chance to. Appreciate innocence while you have it, the movie says, it can be taken away so easily.

The Band Wagon (1953): Washed up movie star Tony Hunter, (Astaire) heads to Broadway to star in a musical comedy written by his friends (Oscar Levant and Nanette Fabray), but they make the mistake of hiring a snooty director of dramas who promptly turns it into a heavy handed Faust adaptation. Tony is unsure of this, as well as the much younger ballerina (Cyd Charisse) hired to be his leading lady. The official favorite musical of people who think it’s too mainstream to pick Singin’ in the Rain. The satire of high art and low art can get heavy handed, and the movie’s ultimate assertion that Broadway musicals are meant to be light comedy is hopelessly dated in the era of Next to Normal and Spring Awakening. It’s real charms lie in the dances, from the joyful hoofing of "Shine on Your Shoes" to the simple romance of "Dancing in the Dark."

On the Town (1949): Three sailors (Kelly, Sinatra, Jules Munshin) on 24 hour leave in New York, New York (I hear it’s a wonderful town) find love and hijinks as they pursue a beauty contest winner (Vera-Ellen) across the city after one of them falls in love at first sight. Along for the ride are Betty Garret as their cab driver, and Ann Miller as a boy crazy anthropologist. Adapted from a Broadway hit, much of Leonard Bernstein’s score was replaced with original music for some reason (censors also required the lyric “New York, New York it’s a helluva town” be changed to “it’s a wonderful town.”) Fortunately, that doesn’t make it any less of a delight, with a perfect cast and great choreography celebrating the limitless possibilities of the city.

Easter Parade (1948): When his dance partner (Ann Miller) leaves him, Don Hewes (Astaire) plucks a girl out of the chorus (Garland) and sets out to make her a star. Shades of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion (nobody tell Lerner and Loewe), with Peter Lawford in the Freddy role and a slew of Irving Berlin tunes along for the ride. The only movie Astaire and Garland made together, and it’s a fascinating pairing of the most carefree (onscreen anyway) musical star and the least. Astaire was rarely paired with singing stars (as opposed to dancers), and Garland was a bigger star than he was when this movie shot. As a result her character gets more solo numbers and feels more independent of Astaire’s than usual. On the flip side, Astaire does a better job at holding his own opposite Garland than most of her leading men. It’s a shame they never made another movie together as their chemistry makes the film.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954): Mountain man Howard Keel ventures into an old west town one day looking for a wife to play housekeeper. He finds one (Powell), who falls in love at first sight and marries him dreaming of a romantic life in the wilderness. He didn’t mention they’d be living with his unruly brothers. Fortunately she manages to tame them enough to go to town for a barn raising. That’s when the trouble starts, each brother meets and falls for a girl from town. After an iconic dance-off with their fiances, the brothers end up kidnapping the women for the winter, which does not go over well.

Look, this is not as sexist as its sounds. This is not a Stockholm Syndrome thing, the narrative does not condone the kidnapping, the men are banished to the barn by Powell so nobody’s pressured to do anything, and if you look at the end of the barn raising dance you see that the women do initially to choose the brothers on their own free will, before their parents intervene. The movie ultimately comes down on the side of equal power dynamics in relationships. Anyway, the dancing in this movie is incredible. Watch it for that if nothing else.

The Harvey Girls (1946): Desperate to get out of her small town, Susan Bradley (Garland) moves west to marry her lonely-hearts pen pal. That falls through, so she gets a job as a waitress at the Harvey House, a (real) restaurant chain catering to train passengers. A lot of the town’s men don’t want the ladies there, because the chain’s strict moral standards has a reputation for civilizing wild west towns. Nevertheless, they persisted. The town is cleaned up, and the waitresses find true love. Great showcase for Garland’s comedic and dramatic skills. The movie’s slyly feminist defense of a woman’s right to see the world beyond her back yard and the boy next door, as well as its emphasis on female friendships, make up for a bland male lead and awkward third act. (A proper big final number was shot, but deleted for time so the whole thing kinda peters out.)

Lili (1953): Barely a musical, but it has one song and two dance sequences that are key to developing the characters and plot, so it counts. Recently orphaned Lili (Leslie Caron) is all alone and naïve about the ways of the world. She is charmed by a womanizing magician in a traveling carnival. After he rebuffs her affections she attempts suicide, but is stopped at the last minute by the carnival’s puppeteer, Paul (Mel Ferrer), who strikes up a conversation through his puppets. Lili’s natural interaction with the puppets attracts a crowd and she is made part of the act. Paul was once a great dancer whose career was ended by a war injury, lonely and embittered he is drawn to Lili’s soft heart but is unable to express his affection for her without his puppets. Touching story about the walls we build to protect ourselves from hurt, and the necessity of letting them down. Caron’s performance is incredible, it’s like she walked out of a fairy tale.

The Pirate (1948): Manuela (Garland) lives in a small Caribbean village and spends her days fantasizing of adventure and romance with the legendary pirate Macoco, so she’s heartbroken to learn she’s to marry the town’s boring mayor, Don Pedro. On a trip to the port to pick up her wedding dress she is spotted by traveling actor Serafin (Kelly), who falls instantly in love. She is unimpressed with his charms so he pretends to be Macoco in disguise to win her over. Mistaken identity hijinks ensue when he shows up in her hometown and realizes her boring fiance is actually the retired Macoco. This never takes off the way it should. Between the stars, the director (Minnelli), and original Cole Porter songs this should be a home run. Frustratingly, the story never comes together as well as it should, Manuela starts to feel like a supporting player in the second half which throws the whole movie off balance. Still, there are some great songs and dances, and the movie does manage to say a few interesting things about who we are versus who we pretend to be in life.

Royal Wedding (1951): Sibling song-and-dance team (Astaire and Powell) heads to England to perform in a new show against the backdrop of the upcoming wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh (what ever happened to those two?) While there both of them find themselves falling in love. Her with a penniless Lord (Peter Lawford), him with a newly engaged dancer (Sarah Churchill, daughter of Winston). This is primarily for Astaire fans who get to see two of his most famous dances. One with a hat rack, proving he could dance with anything, the other where he dances on the wall and ceiling of his room thanks to some clever practical effects.

#oh look I managed to get this one up in a timely manner #classic movies for beginners

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