#old sc being dropped.

[teararrow]

New Startercall ! since too overwhelm with the old one. but Press the ♡ if you like starter ! Length will be variety. but make sure to pick your muse on muse list thank you ! ( including multi blogs. will be maxed at 10 or 15 to manage better ) if you still want starters from the old startercall. you can like this post and i will send it.

[35253319]

SAUR UHM APPARENTLY IM A MOTHER ALSO

(indirectly(the sus kind))

[peachessndreamss]

Thunderstruck

Summery : When a scorching hot summer a thunderstorm wakes you and Eddie and gets the two of you worked up

Characters : Eddie Munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n

Warnings : explicit sexual content including, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, canon typical drug use

Word count : 3.2 k

A/N : Previously posted on my now deleted page. Honestly just re-sharing because I still love this idea and this character. And I'm willing the summer to start here.

Is there anything sweeter than a summer thunderstorm? The weather had been oppressively hot for two weeks now, the grass was dead and yellow with the lack of rain and the soil in every flower bed deeply cracked and dusty. The town pool was full to bursting every day of the week with children and adults alike trying to escape the heat. 

Eddie's home often became so hot in the day it was physically impossible to stay inside for more than a few minutes without feeling like you were being cooked alive in an oversized tin can. You’d spend the hours of sunshine sitting outside on old and creaking sun loungers listening to music on Eddie’s stereo, reading or dozing. Eddie would strip down to his boxers and stretch out his slim, pale body in the shade but only after you’d smothered him in sunscreen and he was so greasy with it he looked like a professional wrestler. 

At night the trailer was a little cooler, but still every window needed to be flung open wide to coax in the almost non-existent cool breeze that danced on the warm night air. You’d sleep under a thin, cotton sheet, as anything else would have been too uncomfortable and even then, with Eddie running hot, he often abandoned the sheet all together and just slept naked and uncovered. 

It had been an easy Saturday, nothing to be achieved and nowhere for either of you to be. Band practice had been cried off due to the heat and D&D wasn’t until Tuesday so you and Eddie had spent the day on the sun loungers. Eddie was re-reading The Hobbit, his copy battered and bent at the spine from the many times it had been opened and poured over. He would read his favourite parts aloud to you, giving every character their own distinct voice, he’d read it so many times now he was reciting it from memory rather than reading. 

After a dinner of take away pizza enjoyed outdoors with Uncle Wayne before he headed off for his shift , and a few joints to see the day home, you and Eddie had climbed into his bed, laying as far apart as possible as to not make each other warmer than necessary. 

It was very early in the morning when you were woken up, the room was still dark, not even a hint of the dawn in the darkness so it was the sound that had disturbed you and after listening for a few seconds you heard it again, the deep, rolling roar of thunder. It lasted for as long as 10 seconds before fading into a heavy silence. Then the rain started, a gentle plink-plonk at first but within moments it was a downpour. Heavy rain drops slamming into the roof of the trailer and bouncing back up only to fall again. Then another rumble of thunder and a flash of bright white lightning. 

“Eddie,” you whispered, grabbing at his arm and tugging gently, “Eddie, wake up,”.

Eddie snorted and shifted onto his back, turning his head and squinting at you. 

“Was it?” he grunted, confused and upset by being woken up. His nose scrunched up and his eyes struggled to open. 

“Listen,” you insisted quietly, grabbing hold of his forearm. His skin was hot to touch and clammy. 

It took him a few seconds to realise what you were talking about, as he listened, his brows unfurrowed and his eyes eased open. He cocked his head to one side, the tangle of curls under his head crackling on the fabric of his pillow. 

“It’s raining?” he asked, glancing at you. 

“It’s a thunderstorm,” you replied with a grin. 

“Awesome,” he said with a grin as he sat up and flung himself off the bed and across the small room to the window, yanking back the light curtain and taking in the scene. 

The sky seemed to glow dark red and stormy grey, the clouds low and flat, hanging over the town like a wet blanket. The rain that was falling was fast and heavy and the clattering, pattering sounds it made caused a shiver to run up Eddie’s spine. Suddenly there was a deafening roll of thunder, so loud it felt like it was happening inside your head, it was followed only a second later by a fork of lightning that illuminated the whole sky as it raced toward the ground. 

“Shit, that’s close,” Eddie said over the sound of the rain. 

“It’s so cool,” you replied, standing next to him at the window. 

The air outside was now much cooler and it whipped into the open window, bringing with it a smattering of rain. Eddie slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The two of you watched three more lightning strikes, Eddie was certain that the last one must have hit his favourite picnic bench because the strike had been so close. 

You were now a little bored with the weather and your attention turned to the man standing beside you. You turned your head and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, then another soft kiss on his cheek before bringing one hand up his naked back and shifting his curls away from his ear so you could kiss the lobe of his ear. You felt Eddie shudder and watched his eyes close as you let your lips linger on such a sensitive spot for him. 

"It's cooler now isn't it?" You said softly, turning your whole body so your front was now at his side, you placed one hand on his stomach, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin and the slight rasp of the hair that led down to his groin. 

"Yeah, a bit," Eddie swallowed as your hand moved a little lower down his stomach. 

You moved your head forward and snuggled into Eddie's neck, catching the smell of his sweat from his hair and his skin as you dragged your teeth against the soft skin. 

"Let's go back to bed Eddie," you mewled, your hand slipping even lower on his stomach, feeling the distinct change in his body hair, from the loose curls of his happy trail to the tighter and coarser curls of his pubic hair. 

Eddie swallowed hard, his cock already hardening and thickening at your touch. In less than an inch you'd be able to wrap your hand around the root of his dick and find him so ready to fuck. While the weather had been as hot and uncomfortable as it had been sex had been completely off the menu, neither of you liking the idea of any additional physical exercise than was strictly necessary. 

Eddie grabbed hold of your wrist before you reached the apex of his thighs and brought your wrist up to his mouth, biting gently at the soft underside of your wrist where a few delicate veins rose up from under your skin, almost imperceptible to the eye but Eddie knew they were there and how it made you squirm when they were touched. 

A thrill of pleasure ran around your naked body as his teeth caressed the delicate skin at your wrist before he kissed it softly. 

"Bed please, my love," he whispered before letting your wrist go and giving you a little bump with his hip in the direction of the bed. 

You smiled sweetly as you slipped out of his embrace and stepped back to the bed. Climbing on the end of the bed, glancing back over your shoulder while on all fours, finding Eddie watching you with his mouth open and a hungry look in his eyes. 

"Like this?" You asked, wiggling your hips from side to side. 

Eddie shook his head as he started to gather up his curls into an elastic he kept around his wrist. 

"On your back baby," he replied as he tightened the bun at the back of his head.

You grinned, feeling your body’s Pavlovian response to seeing his hair tied back like that as you flipped over onto your back in the centre of the small bed, your head resting on the pillow as Eddie positioned himself comfortably between your thighs. He'd settled himself with his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress so when the mood took him he could grind down on the mattress. 

He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked up at your face, one of his forearms slipping around your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, your foot now resting on his back. His other hand pushed your other thigh aside, pushing your sex open for him. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his chest before he used two fingers to spread your slick lips open, exposing you even more intimately, giving him unlimited access to your clit, your entrance and with a tilt of your hips he'd have access to your tight asshole too. But right now, Eddie only had one thing on his mind. 

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed softly, dipping his head forward and placing a soft, closed lip kiss just above your clit.

"I've missed you," he continued in a soft, lilting voice, placing another kiss just below your clit. 

You made a soft purring sound, lifting your hips up a little, urging him to get to the main event. Eddie chuckled and gave you a very gentle slap on the thigh. 

“Don't rush me," he insisted, lifting his head to speak to you, "we need to get reacquainted and she's shy," he added before touching the pad of his thumb to your clit, the sudden direct contact making you jerk your hips off the bed and your hands claw at the bedsheet. 

"See?" He said with a grin as he cocked his eyebrow at you, "she's skittish,". 

Eddie returned his attention to your pussy and continued his slow torture, kissing around your clit, occasionally giving a small lick either side but never touching it directly. In what felt like hours to you, but was only 2 minutes in reality Eddie had you rocking and twisting your hips, trying to force him to give you the contact you wanted. 

"Eddie please, please please," you moaned as your hands fisted at the bedsheet. 

Eddie chuckled softly, rubbing his chin against the thigh he had hooked over his shoulder. 

"Needy, needy girl," he whispered sweetly before finally kissing your clit. 

The bud was tight and thumping in time with your heartbeat and Eddie's wet mouth created an explosion of pleasure and pain as the thousands of nerve endings were stimulated in unison. You gave a strangled cry, bucking your hips up and bringing one of your hands down on the back of Eddie's head, holding him in place, rocking your hips against his open mouth, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue as he danced it over and around your clit. There was no consistency to his movements yet so while pleasure rolled around your body you knew he wasn't trying to make you come yet. He was still holding back. 

You moaned and bucked again, pushing Eddie's head down harder, feeling the press of his nose into your pubic mound. 

"Eddie, fuck, Eddie," you groaned as you noticed for the first time the slow, undulating movements of his lower body. 

You lifted your head up and watched his hips pressing and grinding down against the mattress, the muscles in his bare ass popping as he rolled his hips and clenched his glutes and thighs. The sight of him fucking at the mattress sent your body and mind spiraling as you dropped back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, your whole body suddenly more alive than ever. 

Eddie's tongue was now constantly licking at your clit, his lips fixed around it  creating a hot, wet seal around the bud. Eddie let you buck and grind and hold his face down all you needed until you finally reached your peak. Your voice disappeared for a few seconds as you felt nothing but hot pleasure rushing around your body.

As your muscles clenched and stars exploded behind your eyes a streak of lightning raced across the sky, turning the room as bright as your body felt for a few seconds. Your hand released Eddie's head and he moved a little, not enough to break contact but to ease up on your clit, stopping the intense licking and changing back to soft kisses to draw out your climax until you were shaking and writhing, nothing but soft mewling noises coming from your mouth.

"Oh god," you moaned softly as Eddie moved his kisses to the inside of your thighs, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. 

"That was so cool baby," he whispered, "you came so hard there was lightning,". 

You gave a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at the sweet man between your legs, he was looking up at you, his big brown eyes looking soft and loving. 

"Get up here and fuck me," you said, twisting a curl of his hair that had fallen loose around your finger. 

"Fuck yeah baby," Eddie replied as he clambered up, crawling up your body, pushing your thighs apart and bringing his hard cock right to your waiting entrance.

You were both beyond ready so Eddie sank into you easily, placing his hands on your thighs and drawing them up his body so you cradled him either side of his chest. He rested with his forearms either side of your head and kissed you deeply and he pressed his hips forward, filling your body with his, making you whole and creating a passionate fusion of your two bodies and your two souls. 

You broke away from his mouth and moaned his name, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging deep and leaving red marks in his alabaster skin. Eddie hissed at the burn of your nails in his flesh but the hiss quickly turned to a laugh as he dipped his head and licked up the column of your neck to your chin before kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he drew his hips back before driving forward again.

You broke away from his lips, taking a deep gasping breath as the head of Eddie's cock hit right against your g-spot. As the lights burst behind your closed eyes the sky seemed to shake with a huge rumble of thunder, it was so loud and so close it felt like it might have made the trailer shake but it was hard to tell if the shaking was the weather, or Eddie as he picked up his pace. 

He moves from drawing out and pushing forward to grinding, keeping his cock buried deeply inside you and rocking his hips back and forth, meaning he was able to constantly stimulate you internally as well as externally, your clit now being rubbed by the muscles of Eddie's pelvis. You clawed at Eddie's back, crying out as you felt your second climax starting to build deep inside your belly. 

"Eddie, oh God, Eddie," you breathed. 

You moved your hands from his back to his face. Catching his cheeks between your hands and bringing his face close to yours, pressing your foreheads together. His face was sweaty and so was yours, your two sweats mingling on your skin. 

You felt so completely connected to him it was overwhelming, Eddie was everywhere and, in that moment, he was everything as well. The intimacy of it all aided in pushing you over the edge very quickly, your orgasm burst outward with the power of an exploding star. Your legs gripping Eddie's chest and your arms dragging his upper body closer to yours so it was impossible to tell who skin was who's. 

With a stuttering and guttural cry, taken by surprise by your suddenly gripping, milking pussy Eddie came, hard and deep. Filling you up as another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky. 

The two of you seem to float, for a while, suspended in space and time, your bodies both corporeal and ethereal, human and divine. You come back to the sound of the pattering rain and the tickle of Eddie's curls, the weight of his body feels safe and the heat of his skin feels comforting. 

"Eddie baby?" You said softly, stroking your fingers down his spine. 

"Yeah?" He mumbled, his face pressed deep into the space beside your neck. 

"You okay?". 

"Baby," Eddie sighed, lifting himself up to look at your face, "that was the best," he grinned. 

You giggled, more of the physical sensations of post sex coming back to you. An ache in your hips, a stretch between your thighs, and warm wetness on your thighs. 

"It was good," you agreed. 

"I think we should always have sex when there's a thunderstorm," he said sleepily as he moved, withdrawing his softening cock from you and flopping down beside, patting a spot on his chest where he wanted you to put your head. 

You wriggled toward him and placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your body and the two of you kissed deeply. 

"I feel like we just conceived the anti-Christ or something," you said with a giggle. 

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. 

"Don't even joke," he replied, kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

The rain seemed to be slowing and the rumbles of thunder sounded further away, the storm seemed to be rolling on, maybe waking up other young lovers as it went. 

Eddie dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, his body and mind completely relaxed and satisfied. You stayed awake a little longer, the day was getting lighter by the second and Eddie's features were being revealed to you in glorious golden morning hues. You were contemplating how much he looked like an angel from a painting when you dropped off to sleep yourself. 

The two of you woke up a second time when Wayne came home from his shift with paper bags of hot and greasy breakfast food. The three of you sat around the small table and ate. Wayne was tired from his shift and you and Eddie were dozy from being up half the night enjoying each other's bodies. The day after the storm was cooler, the air fresher. The plants seemed to be greener and the sky bluer and even the people seemed more friendly, Eddie's usually sullen neighbour greeting you when you stepped out of the trailer to find your rain soaked sneakers. 

Eddie brought his guitar out that day and he sat beside you on the same sun lounger and strummed chords, humming tunes and making up nonsense songs. Songs about his D&D campaign, songs about summer, songs about love, and one about passionate nights while lightning splits the sky. 

Hearing him recount the night before in his deep, rich singing voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"You're not sharing that one with the band are you?" You asked as he came up with a lyric about how the sound of the thunder was second to the sounds you make when he’s inside you.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. 

"This one's just for you and me baby,".

[rogueddie]

A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

[bratzforchris]

Inked Daisies (Chapter 3)

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Read Chapter 2 here

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: Drinking, sexual harassment and unwanted touch, protective!Matt, physical fighting/mentions of blood, suggestive comments, a few uses of y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Save me protective!Matt...protective!Matt save me. In all seriousness though, this is a tad bit different than my usual fluffy stuff, so let me know what you think!! Enjoy 💐🌸🌹🌻

“We need to talk.”

You jumped, dropping your pink watering can in the process. You whirled around to see who the speaker was, placing a hand to your racing heart. “Nick, what the fuck? You can’t do that.”

“Where have you been all week?” Your friend asked, leaning against the brick wall of your shop as he spoke. 

“What do you…mean?” You asked carefully, picking up your watering can and continuing to water the flowers in the planter boxes on the window. “I’ve been busy, Nick,” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Oh, it’s not me I’m worried about,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s Chris. He’s acting like a mopey puppy because you haven’t been over.”

You bit your lip, feeling rather guilty about the way you’d sort of ghosted your friends. You’d been responding to their messages, of course, but you hadn’t made any move to hang out or became seemingly ‘under the weather’ when they asked. You figured it was best to just keep your distance for a few days until you wiped the memory of Matt walking in on you showering from your mind. Not to mention the way you hadn’t even been embarrassed about it. 

“I’m sorry…I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” You murmured, eyes sliding to the shop across the street subconciously. “Do you know what we should do?” You asked, still staring at the building across the street as you formulated an idea in your mind. 

“Attach you and Chris at the hip so he’ll stop fucking whining? Make you two get married?” Nick suggested, a jokingly cynical look on his face. 

“Okay, first of all, Chris is my best friend. We’re not getting married. We don’t even like each other like that.” You grumbled, finishing your task and walking towards the stained-glass door of your shop. 

Nick followed after you, stepping inside the shop as well, despite your business technically not being open for the day. Petal Perfection was an almost magical place, if you did say so yourself. You had started converting the old antique shop as soon as you’d bought the place, turning it from old and dusty to vibrant and full of life. On one wall was your register and the glass case that displayed your latest offerings and arrangements, while the other two held a variety of small trinkets and gifts, and a self-serve bouquet station where customers could pick the flowers they wanted and arrange them in their unique way. 

You started bustling around, straightening up and getting ready for the day, awaiting your employee’s arrival. Maybe it was the fact that you were consumed with guilt over how you’d treated the boys over the past few days, or maybe it was the implications about how Chris felt about you and marriage, but either way, the pale pink walls of your store felt like they were closing in on you. 

“We should surprise Chris at work tonight!” You said brightly as you wiped the glass case with a soft cloth. “Besides, I could use a night out.”

“Huh,” Nick tilted his head sideways as he looked at you, feeling like there was something off about your behavior, but not being able to place what it was. “I mean I guess, but where did that idea come from?”

“Can a girl not just want to have drinks and go dancing?” You asked him, faking a confident, happy aire. 

“God, you’re so ADHD. It’s not even funny.” 

“Says you.” 

Although Nick had been diagnosed with ADHD in childhood and you in high school, it had been a running joke between you two ever since you’d connected. Granted, your friend would always fight with people who tried to make fun of or discriminate against either of you, but that didn’t stop you from bullying each other. 

“Do you think Matt will want to come?” Nick asked, fiddling with his phone. 

At the mention of the middle triplet’s name, you froze, all memories of last Friday flooding back to you. “Uhhhh…he doesn’t really like…bars and stuff, y’know?”

If Nick seemed to catch onto your hesitation, he didn’t mention it. “You’re right. I’ll invite him anyway, though. He’s been hurled up in that shop like a fuckin’ hermit.” he said, jerking his thumb towards the street. 

Sure enough, Matt’s car was already parked outside ThreeSixty Tattoo, despite the fact that it was only just after eight in the morning and the shop didn’t open until noon. The shades were still drawn so that you couldn’t see inside the store, but you knew that he was already hard at work, prepping for a long day of tattoos and piercings. 

“You’re a good brother, Nick.” You smiled, setting up the register for the day as your first (and only) two employees filed into the shop. 

You watched as Nick bid you his goodbyes and left the shop, crossing to the smaller, painted black brick one across the street. A part of you that you couldn’t explain was glad Matt had already pulled the shades up for the day, because then you could sneak a peek at your friends every now and then before the rush for the day started. In a way, you almost hoped Matt would say yes to Nick’s offer, despite your avoidance of the triplets for the past week. Maybe if you saw him in person again, you would realize that what had happened wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Matt grumbled as you led him and Nick through the bar, his older brother tugging his wrist. “It’s work. Chris is literally just at work.” 

“Because it’s a nice surprise!” You yelled over the thumping club music. “And it’s Friday night. Some of us like to do fun things with our weekends while we’re young, y’know?”

He knew you couldn’t see it due to the dim lighting, but Matt rolled his eyes as he was pulled through the crowd. Unlike his younger brother, Matt hated anything that had to do with bars, clubs, or party atmospheres. They were too chaotic and noisy, and drunk people were annoying. The brunette would’ve much rather sat and had a meaningful conversation with someone than go drinking. Sometimes though, when he was alone in his room at night, you were the first person that came to his mind when he wished he was someone else. Someone more outgoing, more friendly, more fun.

Like right now, for example. You were sliding in between bodies, laughing and talking as you made your way to the bar. All of the people you spoke to were complete and utter strangers, yet you talked like you’d known them your whole life, all while being completely sober. By definition, you were bubbly. Ever since Matt had known you, you’d had no trouble making friends. When he was alone, he thought about what it might be like to have that personality. People absolutely flocked to you, and to him, it was admirable. Without even noticing it, a small smile had crossed Matt’s face as he watched you, despite all the noise and the uncomfortable feeling of sweat against his skin as people continued to grind into each other. 

The three of you found seats at the bar, with you sitting in the middle and chatting animatedly while you waited for Chris to notice you. Right now, the youngest was in his zone, yelling out instructions to the trainees and bustling around with cocktail shakers in both hands. The club he worked at was one of the most popular in Los Angeles, and despite the cold January evening, tonight’s turnout was nothing short of humongous. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of waiting, Chris turned to his right, wiping sweat from his brow.

“What the fuck? What are you guys doing here?” he asked, a smile growing on his face despite the tiredness that was clearly evident. 

“We came to surprise you!” You stood up on the rungs of your chair, leaning across the bar and hugging Chris’ neck. “How’s the shift?”

“Busy as fuck. Do you know how many Manhattan’s I’ve made–” Chris was cut off when you were yanked back into your seat by Matt’s hands around your waist. 

“What was that for?” You grumbled, adjusting your tiny, leather shorts. 

“You’ll get hurt.” Matt said flatly, expression unmoving. 

“How?” You cocked your head incredulously, staring at the brunette who sat unmoving with his arms folded over his chest. 

“Yeah, Matt. How?” Chris challenged, never missing an opportunity to poke fun at one of his brothers. 

“You could fall.”

“And Chris would catch her.” Nick added in, quite enjoying the way Matt was fidgeting at the questions. 

“Would he?” Matt smirked when Chris was pulled away by another customer who was insistently ordering a margarita. “Cause it seems like he’s busy.”

“You’re no fun.” You groaned, finding yourself sliding back into the easy rhythm of friendship that you had always had with the boys. As the bass of whatever current EDM song was playing pounded in your heart, you found yourself thinking less and less about your little…encounter with Matt last week. “Come on, Nick,” You said, hopping off the stool and grabbing the oldest triplets’ hand. “Let’s dance.”

Matt watched as you and Nick were swept into the crowd. He heard Chris chatting his ear off on the side as he continued to make drinks for the people swarming the bar, but his eyes always found their way back to you. In the darkness of the club, you were like a little beacon of light. Your hips swayed to the music as you threw your head back laughing while Nick spun you around. Eventually, you started pulling other clubbers into your dance circle, and the boy found himself fighting the urge to join. He was a terrible dancer, but you made it look so effortlessly fun that he almost believed he could do it. 

“You got a crush on Y/N, man?”

Matt painstakingly pulled his eyes off of you and the dance floor, turning towards Chris, who was beating the mint leaves for a mojito, a cold yet inquisitive look on his face. “No.”

“You sure are acting like it,” the younger brunette said coolly, sweeping the ingredients into a shaker. “Watching her like a German Shepard and shit.”

Matt rolled his eyes, not even denying it as he looked back over towards the dance floor. You had drifted away from Nick by this point, not wanting to cockblock the oldest triplet who was currently chatting with a much taller guy with dreads and a septum piercing. In the nicest way possible though, Matt didn’t give a fuck about his brother. He had become attuned to your movements now, watching as you said something to some overly drunk motherfucker. 

The guy continued trying to talk to you, getting more heated as he spoke. A frown was growing on your face at his feeble attempts to get you somewhere more secluded, seemingly not understanding that you were here with your friends and wanted to be left alone. Matt told himself that he just wanted to keep an eye on you for your safety. He didn’t care who you did or didn’t talk to. You were just one of his friends, and he wanted you to be safe. The brunette halfheartedly  listened to Chris rattle off random nonsense while he bustled around the bar, but when the awful idiot placed an unwanted hand on your ass, Matt was up and across the club in three quick strides. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Matt asked roughly, yanking the guy’s arm off of you. 

“Chill, dude,” the guy slurred drunkenly, trying to wrest free from Matt’s grip. “She said she was single.”

“She’s not,” he lied easily, tightening his ironclad grip on the man’s arm. “And even if she was, that doesn’t give you a right to touch her without her permission.” 

“Matt…” You said tentatively, not wanting this to escalate. “It’s fine, okay? Let’s just go.”

Your friend wasn’t hearing you as he grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him so that he was inches away from his own face. “Get the fuck out of here. Don’t touch her, don’t talk to her, don’t even fucking look at her. Got it?”

“Oh I’ll get out of here,” the guy sneered, alcohol hot on his breath. It was clear that in his drunken stupor he didn’t realize Matt was deadly serious. “And take that little pornstar body with me. I’ll fuck that bitch ‘til she can’t walk and make you watch. How about that, pretty boy?”

It all happened so fast. One second, the guy was taunting Matt, and the next, the brunette’s ring-clad knuckles had collided with his jaw. Matt continued to go at it on the guy’s face, landing blow after blow as clubbers yelped and yelled. Before any of you knew it, Chris had come from around the bar, pulling Matt back and making him drop the guy. Both men were still yelling, one clearly more drunk than the other as Chris pushed Matt into a corner. 

“Matt. You need to chill.” the youngest triplet yelled over the music, assessing Matt’s bloody nose and already bruising eye and jaw where the man had hit back. 

“He fucking grabbed Y/N’s ass!” Matt yelled, struggling against Chris’ hold. 

“Matt,” Chris said firmly, pinning his brother to the wall. “No fighting. He shouldn’t have touched her, but you can’t get physical, man.”

In the chaos and confusion, Nick had swept you up and out of the club. Matt didn’t know this, though. All he knew was that some guy, some motherfucker, had touched you against your will, and he was going to pay for that. Whether or not you were his girlfriend, he was going to protect you until his very last breath. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[ruhorih4ra]

Hello fellas 🧙🏻‍♂️ long time no see... Heheh

Get out of my way: the new exchange student!

She was doomed from the beginning. Since the first time her body appeared in that grim room, surrounded by demons. Demons! The one and only Lucifer, fallen angel and king of hell. Except he wasn’t the King of Hell and instead of being an horrendous monster he was a good looking jerk with an old-fashioned uniform. At the time he was kind and respectful, but she knew it, when she saw the demon’s eyes, those eyes that spoke for themselves, she was sure that Lucifer knew.

She is extremely capable to do her job, so she remained calm. When Asmodeus touched her body and exclaimed with a very sweet and fake voice that she was beautiful and how he couldn’t help but want to feel her skin, she knew he was merely doing a security check. That implied that Asmodeus aka The Avatar of Lust, also knew her secret.

Initially, Beelzebub was left in charge of her, The Avatar of Gluttony and King of flies looking after a human? She did her best to remain unfazed by his stature and stern features, but really appreciated when Mammon stepped in and demanded to be in charge. That was until he pinched her forearm so bad she felt a drop of blood slide down her arm, “Don’t try anything funny, human.” So, The Avatar of Greed knew too.

She did a quick report. Real demons, all have different eccentric traits, some have functional wings, others have tails, all of them are taller than the average human. They have unusual features and seem to speak English fluently. All of them knew her now not-so-secret secret.

She tried to look for the famous exchange student, the human who had been kidnapped. Sc only saw you for a split second before her vision was blocked by the prince of the Devildom. “Welcome to the Devildom, Sc.” He smiled and it was so honest and open that he could have fooled her. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

When Diavolo finally introduced you, she felt relieved. You seemed to be a nice, kind person. So she assumed her reports were correct and you had developed Stockholm syndrome after being captured for a whole year. “Nice to meet you, Mc.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sc. Don’t worry, you’ll have a good time here.” You replied, your eyes were kind and you seemed genuine. Sc felt sorry, she knew right there that you were the only one who wasn’t aware of her intentions.

However, that was the first and one of the few times she could actually talk with you. Sc knew they would try to avoid leaving the two alone, but they were more stubborn than she had thought, always putting you in opposite directions.

She had received a particularly harsh reprimand one day after “helping” you with council work. She wasn’t trying to be sly, but you offered her information for free so why not? Lucifer seemed furious, Sc didn’t know what made him angrier the fact that Mammon wasn’t there and thus you had been alone or the possibility of an information leak. Mammon arrived before she could say anything relevant, but Lucifer probably knew that already.

However, that day he offered a free waltz class. She accepted, what else could she have done? “I told you to stay away from them, human. I know who you are and your reasons to be here, don’t bring Mc into this.”

Sc didn’t lose her temper and kept smiling, dancing as well as an expert. “Why? Are you afraid of losing them?” She was so sure that Lucifer wouldn’t try anything while you were under the same roof that she let down her guard. “Is that a threat?” Lucifer asked, staying calm too, leading the dance with the same softness of his voice. “You brought them here without their consent, forcing them to coexist with you and your brothers.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and Sc took it as an invitation to continue. “You put them in danger and manipulated them to love you. That’s not love, that’s codependency.” Lucifer’s grip tightened, squeezing the new exchange student’s hand more and more. “I see you have been thinking about it quite a lot, human. You can think whatever suits you best as long as you stay away from Mc.”

“That’s enough, Lucifer.” Sc felt his hand being slowly crushed under an unstoppable force. “If you try to hurt them I’ll break every single one of your bones with my own hands.” Lucifer smiled and tilted his head. “Almost as good as a cursed record, don’t you think?” Sc couldn’t reply, the pain of having her hand completely crushed was too much, her skin was pale, if she didn’t fall was because Lucifer’s hold on her waist. Before she fainted, Sc took Lucifer from the shirt collar. “They’ll realize what kind of monster you are and we’ll leave together.”

She couldn’t remember a thing after that, she woke up in her bed with her hand completely fine. However, after that the brothers reinforced their security, there wasn’t a moment in which one of them was not watching her and thus she couldn’t get close to you. Always playing with Leviathan, reading with Satan, sleeping with the twins, shopping with Asmo. It was torture.

“Mc love this game.” “This is Mc’s favorite book.” “Don’t touch Mc’s pillow.” “I remember that time with Mc when…”

Why? Sc wanted to pull out her hair in desperation. Since she arrived her mission had been impossible, she couldn’t get any information of the Three-Legged Crow Group and their recent growth in the human world, Sc knows that the prince is closely related but that’s all.

Oh, but in comparison, she knows lots of things about Mc’s whole routine, what they like and dislike. They were like puppies wagging their tails at the mention of your name, no, maybe it would be better to call them worshipers. They didn’t act like demons, not unless they thought she was up to something against their beloved human.

That’s when she decided to take action. Her contacts told her about a certain creep in a local market that was always ready to offer solutions. She asked Beel to take her there with the excuse of wanting to know more about the devildom’s cuisine and then… Beelzebub had been glued to her the entire time.

Sc hadn't completely overcome her fear of Beelzebub, but she had to admit that looking the gigantic demon cry over pudding had been a great help. Still, Beelzebub is a demon capable of swallowing her within seconds if he wanted and that’s something she couldn’t ignore. “No turning back now, not without Mc.”

“My lord, do you know that I am a spy who was sent to the Devildom to gather information about Lord Diavolo?” Sc spoke in her best professional voice. As expected, Beelzebub face remained neutral, nodding slightly. “Lord Diavolo tried to kill a human, they were at an amusement park.”

“That human shot Belphie, Lord Diavolo showed mercy, I would have shown him my fangs.” Beelzebub said with a mouth full of fries. “Following that logic, Lord Belphegor killed Mc, right? what should we humans do?”

Beelzebub stopped, he didn't look angry or threatening, he looked embarrassed. “Mc didn't die.”

“They died, in a sense. You know that, right? Why are they still here? Are you threatening them? Why?” Sc stood in front of Beelzebub, her heart violently shaking her whole body. “Mc is nice and understanding, they forgave us. I don't know why and no, we're not threatening them.” Beelzebub had stopped eating, he stood in the middle of the busy sidewalk, earning curious glances from passing demons.

“Are they nice and understanding or they have to be? How much of their love is just well-masked fear, my lord?” The woman knew that Beelzebub had been an angel, when he speaks about you she can even see some of that light in the demon's eyes.

Beelzebub wasn't a fan of overthinking, although he was an expert on the matter. The fact is that he didn't have time to do it while you were in his arms, feeding him his favorite desserts or sitting on his back sharing your day while he did push-ups. He had wondered those things too, but he had pushed them to the far corner of his mind. What if Sc was correct? What if they weren't protecting you?

Beel felt the sudden need to see your face and so he turned around. “We should go back to the house of lamentation.” he didn't wait for Sc, just walked along the crowd with stiff steps and a gloomy face. “Mc can leave if they want, they're strong and capable. They even confronted Lucifer more than once, protecting Luke and me and... don't tell Lucifer I told you this.” He stopped, not many demons were around anymore, the stalls and enthusiasm of the market had disappeared. “They don't need us as much as we need them. It must look twisted from the outside but I don’t want them to leave.” The red-haired demon stopped as a certain question forced its way through all of his troublesome thoughts. “How do you know what Belphie did?”

Beelzebub turned to see Sc, but he just found an empty street, that and the horrible silence that settles before the painful realization that he had been fooled.

Sc was taught to be discreet and silent, her steps didn't make a sound, losing Beelzebub had been easy once the demon's mind had wandered far from there. It was only when she was in front of the shady place that she started questioning her plan. It didn't even look like a shop and, if that wasn't enough, it was quite far from the local market too.

But she entered nonetheless, the classic sound of a small bell ringing was heard when she opened the door and peeked inside. Two white eyes that resembled a pair of marbles and were the only perceptible thing in the dark room met her eyes and left a sensation that ran down her spine and shook her nerves.

She thought of backing off, but she saw Beelzebub looking for her and quickly stepped inside.

“I need something to neutralize demons.” She walked towards the pair of eyes that laughed with a quiet delight. “Now.” She held the demon's gaze and cursed when someone knocked at the main door. The demon put a bird cage on the table. “10,000 Grimm.”

“What the fuck is this?! Those idiots are at least 6’0 tall, this crap is the size of a rat!” Sc hissed but the bell rang again and her muscles acted on its own, taking the cage and leaving the Grimm.

“What are you doing? What is that?” She had never seen the avatar of gluttony so angry and threatening. “I need it for my classes.” Sc said with the last shred of will she had left, feeling a pang of shame when she heard her own voice sound like a little girl on the verge of crying. Beelzebub inspected the cage first and then the seller, trying to choose the best way to proceed. “Fine, but you'll show it to Lucifer later.”

Beel dragged her carelessly through the Devildom's streets. She could hardly hold the cage and follow the demon's footsteps, before she could even think in the possibility, the cage slipped from her hand and rolled open on the floor. “Wait, lord Beelzebub!”

Beel stopped and picked up the cage in less than a second, handing it to Sc and resuming his previous race, but Sc’s movements were even more clumsy than before as she couldn't stop looking at a little black cloud swirling around Beelzebub's head.

“My lord, you have something on your head.” Sc murmured, stopping Beelzebub again from his hasty walk. The demon just looked around, the murderous scowl that had formed on his face gave way to one of curiosity. “I don't see anything.” He gave Sc a look that meant he wouldn’t stop again and promptly turned around and once again took her wrist to continue walking.

Lucifer found nothing out of the ordinary with the cage, he merely raised an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance, “I suggest something bigger.” He said as his only comment. Eventually she thought that everything had been a scam, surely the seller had seen a good opportunity to fool her and that was the end of her little feat.

That was until your blood stained the House of Lamentation and she saw for the first time since her arrival the fear painfully painted on the faces of all the brothers, from the youngest to the oldest. They had rushed to your room while she stood there, looking stupidly at the dried blood as a lump formed in her throat.

Perversely, and much to her shame, she realized that for the very first time since she set foot in hell she was alone. Nobody was watching her, she could wander around with no one to stop her.

Finally, she could do her job.

So she remained silent, even when she saw two little demons bothering you at the dining table. She kept quiet, even when a little demon (who didn't look so little anymore) threw a book at her head when she tried to catch him. She didn't say a word, not even when you fought with Lucifer and left everyone feeling miserable.

She could remember Satan's madness, the raw emotion, the demon had radiated, drowning Sc in a sea of anxiety and fear. But even then she remained calm, because surely you would forgive them, surely you would forgive her too, right?

She didn't mutter a single word because it was working. She had been forgotten even by the prince and his terrifying butler. She convinced herself that this was for the best and that you would thank her once you were both in the human world.

However, that changed one night, when Mammon arrived to the library and roughly tied up her wrists. “How did you know I was here?!” Sc struggled in an attempt to free herself from the rope. “I have eyes everywhere.” Mammon winked at her and forced her to walk ahead of him. “Where are we going? Where is Mc?”

Mammon stopped, but his hands stopped Sc from turning around. “Why are you askin’, human?” Sc felt the pointy nails of the greed demon caressing her neck. “They seem off, I’m worried. That’s all.” And wasn’t that true after all? You were different, ever since the fight you have been more rude and violent. Even she has retreated behind Lucifer’s back when you pass by.

“Someone attacked them.” The avatar of greed’s voice was cold and composed. “Those idiots dared to hurt them.” Sc felt Mammon´s nail pressing on her neck, exactly on the carotid arteries. “Do you know something about it, witch?”

“No, I don’t. Are they oka-!” The young woman couldn’t say anything else as the demon pushed her to the floor. “Ya wanna know somethin’ human? Truth is Mc’s not a bad liar, ya know? They had lied to me looking straight to my face without batting an eye.” Sc’s groaned when Mammon took her by the hair and forced her to stay still while he spoke just inches away from her face. “It’s unfair, you see, because we are demons, I can hear your heart screaming the truth, it’s so loud it hurts my fuckin’ ears.”

“Please, I ddon’t knnow anything.” Sc said in short breaths. “Are they okay?” Sc asked again. Mammon tightened his grip on the woman’s hair before releasing her. “Yes they are. I’ll take you to the attic and you’ll stay there until Satan beats the truth out of you.”

Luckily, she wasn’t held hostage for long and nobody ripped the truth out of her, no wonder why. They looked miserable, awful, lost. Sc had found what had happened, from the attack and the fact that the attackers remained unknown, to your decision to stay in purgatory hall.

Every time she saw you, you were surrounded by little demons. No, they weren’t little anymore, they were real copycats of the brothers. They were your guardian demons, spinning around your head like nasty flies. She knew it was her fault, after all, they had appeared after she bought that cage.

At one point she had decided that the mission wasn’t as important as you and that she should do something but then again, things were much better now that the brothers weren’t there all the time but bloody hell, things were worse now that you were alone with those pests.

She got out of her classes to take a break and that’s when she saw you sitting alone at an old and almost crumbling table. She counted them, there were 6 demons already, one more than the last time.

Sc looked at her hands, only one report left and you could leave the devildom. She only needed a little more time, then she could save you and show the world the truth. Almost unconsciously, her eyes landed on you again, sleeping peacefully in that lonely place.

Part 22?

She swallowed hard before going back to her business. Not even 5 seconds passed when she heard a loud sound coming from the place you were at before, she ran as fast as possible but when she arrived you had disappeared and the table you were in was now reduced to a pile of rocks.

I know I don't update this (or anything, actually :3) often, so feel free to tell me if you want to be removed from this humble taglist hahshaha.♡

Taglist: @yuumaofc @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @exrellian @kaiserkisser @cutestpatoootie @fandumshippr @frenchmess23yo @reject-queen @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[masterdizzi]

Hear me out....

I am really, REALLY, REALLY NOT a fan of what they have been doing with Colette, when I first saw this skin, I found it cute but it's clear now that like Charlie, it was horny bait from the start.

I couldn't say this in the subreddit because they would chew me up, spit me out, Bully me for maining Nita and who knows what else.

But I have always loved Colette for her fun and eccentric personality, and I have always pitied Janet for being seen as simply a horny joke rather than an actual character but now this is all people will talk about when Colette comes to mind. Charlie got lucky imo, if everyone didn't despise her so much, she would be 100% horny jokes too.

The worst part is how they had to outright confirm that she is a 'young adult' just to justify her sexualization

How old is Edgar then, because I vaguely remember his OG description labelling him as a "kid"

(EdgarXColette shippers are in shambles rn)

I have always, always, ALWAYS seen Colette as a silly little teen who likes to yap about her hyperfixtations to peeps.

This was 100% just an excuse to sexualise her which is odd because they seemed (rightfully) strongly against Janet's fanservise and recently removed the brawlstars p*** sub.

(I was making jokes about how that was a good thing, luckily they didn't notice I was serious)

The BS fandom got super weird over Charlie because of a slight cleavage and Janet despite her not having the hourglass shape, now I won't be able to say Colette's name without someone saying something horny

and I will have to pretend I found it funny so I Don get abused

Now I'm not against this sort of fanservice, I was more than fine with what they did with Charlie, and Lola's sexualization has never bothered me. It's just Colette specifically that grinds my gears and how they felt the need to conrifm she is a "young adult" for the sole reason of sexualization her.

I was actually glad when the fandom started thirsting over Charlie because it took attention away from Janet, whom I had never felt comfortable with as far as fanservice goes.

One of my favourite brawlers reduced to this, I'm crying.

The subreddit has also been a slightly less pleasant place to be since then and nobody actually agrees with me because I am unfortunately horrible at arguments.

I just hope that SC drops another "ultra fanservise" skin for Lola, or Charlie or an actual adult so Colette can rest

JUST LOOK AT HER, SHE'S GOT SO MUCH PERSONALITY, they can't do this to her rip

The rest of the loading screen is FIRE tho, Toon Spike and Boss Rico are major W's

[jefferson-starkid]

An incomplete list of things I loved about the RWRB movie

First and foremost he total of TWO (2) lil bicep kisses Henry gives Alex (my hearttt I will never shut up about this)

Their faces when Alex gets cake on Henry’s coat

That whole scene actually. Comedy gold

Zahra straight up attacking Alex with a pillow for being an idiot

Alex looking and acting like a 10 year old petulant child during the whole hospital closet scene lol

Heny’s little voice crack when he says “I didn’t say ‘get me out of here’ I said ‘I need to get out of here’ there is a difference” BABY

on that note you don't wanna know the amount of times I said 'oh baby' to Henry during this movie :(

The eyelashes thing making it in there even though it’s not henry who says it in the movie but idc because Taylor Zakhar Perez your eyelashes sir

Alex actually grabbing Henry’s hips at the party to show him how to dance WE LOVE A BOOK ACCURATE MOMENT

On that note GET LOW

And Henry saying ‘Did he say ‘sweat drops down my balls?’ I hollered I love that moment in the book

Henry’s lost puppy look when Alex kisses the girls

Nick Galitzine managing to perfectly portray Henry’s mannerisms in the first kiss scene ‘Henry’s whole face grimaces in frustration, his eyes casting skyward like they’re searching for help from an uncaring universe.’ Like he did that perfectly

Zahra being the iconic queen she is

“You’ve been wanting him to dick you down forever”

EVERYTHING ABOUT THE RED ROOM:

the Alexander Hamilton portrait good job movie

Alex being nervous and not knowing how to stand when waiting for Henry (ik in the book this detail was after the state dinner in his room, but idc I love that they at least kept it in this way)

SHUT UP STOP TALKING

Henry’s horrified little moment of realization when he sees Alex isn’t actually gonna yell at him for kissing him but he’s actually into this like Nick Galitzine your face sir!!! It’s so soft and sad and adorable arrgghhh

The detail of Alex hitching Henry’s tigh up around him like in the book

Amy’s ‘oh god!’ when she walks in on them

Henry immediately pretending to inspect the book case and Alex randomly playing with the flowers all ‘ACT NATURAL’ lol that made me cackle

Henry’s face as he leaves Alex’s room and lingers in the doorway a bit to just…stare at him UGH

The rich white people sex dungeon scene with the polo and alex just shamelessly thirsting after Henry lol

PARIS

“Who says ‘make love’ anymore? Are we like gonna listen to Lana Del Rey while we do it?” PLEASE

That sex scene was handled with so much care. It was so soft and sensual and they worked their asses off to show their connection and it paid off lemme tell u everyone say ‘thank you intimacy coordinator’

Like I could talk for 45 minutes about that hand shot alone

How small Henry looks lying on his side next to Alex afterwards

FIRST BICEP KISS everyone say thank you whoever wrote that in the script

Henry’s disorientated ‘sgoingon?’ when Zahra wakes them up lol just like the book

EVERYTHING ZAHRA SAYS after she finds Henry in the literal closet

You could feel the ‘Zahra does not appreciate being told to chill’ radiating off of her Sarah Shahi you absolute genius

Their faces when ‘oh and I told my sister!’ :D ‘Oh I didn’t know that!’ :D ‘Yeah she was really happy for us’ ‘I can’t wait to see her again she’s real-‘ “OKAY SHUT UP THE BOTH OF YOU” lol Zahra is going THROUGH it

‘Would it make any difference if I told you not to see him again?’ ‘No.’ he said that so fast I’m gonna cry

Zahra calling Henry Little Lord Fuckleroy

Ellen at least mentioning the powerpoint even though they didn’t show it

Ellen giving alex the Queer Talk™

On that note ‘the B isn’t silent’ making it in there is so important to me as a bi person

Alex reading One Last Stop

I am NOT singing karao-

Cut to henry singing karaoke

HE DID IT HE SANG DON’T STOP ME NOW and he’s all smiley and real and open and Alex noticing it and falling more in love by the second

On that note Taylor Zakhar Perez your face sir

The lake scene (SECOND BICEP KISS HOLLAA)

On the deck when Henry is slowly realizing what Alex is trying to say (aka ‘I love you) and nick’s face just goes so desperately soft as he starts to understand that this means he’ll have to leave Alex and then his face just slowly closes off like NICK GALITZINEs FACE ACTING don’t talk to meee

That little moment afterwards that Henry spends underwater with his hand on his heart just…ACHING. Ugh someone kill me

Henry is my absolute baby can you tell

David first appearing. A real ‘and everyone cheered’ moment even though the scene is heartbreaking

‘Do you love him?’ ‘What difference would it make if I did?’ and then that sad barely there smile *insert captain Holt ‘PAAAIIINNNNN’ gif here*

“I stormed a fucking castle to look you in the eye and tell you that I love you, knowing that you wouldn’t say it back. So no, Henry, in fact, this is costing me everything.” LORD

”I can love you and want you and still not want that life. I’m allowed, all right? And it doesn’t make me a liar. It makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation, and you don’t get to come here and call me a coward for it” is one of my favourite passages in the book and I am so fucking happy they kept it. Nick slayed that scene

In fact their acting in that whole sequence was amazing

“tell me to go” NOOOO I love that they kept it but it’s so sadddd

The fact that they actually filmed in the V&A

Henry mentioning dreaming of dancing there with a person he loved and Alex wasting zero time putting on a song (cry emoji)

Henry giving Alex his signet ring like in the book, but then them adding that Alex gives Henry his key in return I AM UNWELL

That little montage of cute intimate moments between A&H during Alex’ speech

YAYYYY they kept the Zahra and Shaan subplot

“Yeah I thought you might see it our way, I’ll hold” QUEEN ZAHRA

BABY

BABY

BABY

BABYYY

And then Henry’s little breathless ‘Alex?’ STOPPPP

I’m serious baby making it into the film had me WEAK I had to pause for a full 30 seconds to scream into my pillow

Running towards each other on the stairs :’)

PLAYING PIANO TOGETHER AAAAAA

“I’m white and upper class so my affection comes with strings” lol at least he's self aware

The hand holding during the meeting with he king

“I love you”  “I love you more “  “I think that’s up for debate”

Henry wearing the tie with the yellow roses of Texas :’)

In conclusion was the movie perfect? No! did I still love it? Yes!

[atths--twice]

Surprising Discoveries

Stopping by Mulder’s apartment unannounced, Scully is in for quite a surprise.

This is the second story I wrote for the MSR Fanzine. A bit of humor and fluff. Hope you enjoy.

May 1999

Scully turned her head and listened, frowning as she heard the muffled sounds of the television through Mulder’s door. She tried knocking again, but there was still no answer. 

“Well,” she said under her breath, taking out her phone and calling him, waiting for him to pick up. 

She could hear it ringing on the other side of the door, but he did not answer it. Sighing, she disconnected the call and put it back into her pocket. Pulling out her keys, she placed his into the lock and opened the door. 

Closing the door softly behind her, she put her keys back into her pocket and walked into the dimly lit apartment. His phone was on the table and the television was playing an old movie, but Mulder was nowhere to be seen. 

Glancing at his half closed bedroom door, she wondered if she should enter, or leave and never tell him she had stopped by. 

What if he was not alone? What if… 

She licked her lips, let out a deep breath, and knocked on his bedroom door. 

“Mulder?” she called, but heard nothing in reply. 

Pushing the door open, she stepped into his nearly equally dim bedroom and frowned, still not seeing him. 

A noise from his bathroom gave her pause, but then she stepped forward, sure she would finally find him in there. 

“Mulder?” she asked, rapping gently on the closed door. 

“Sc… Scully?” he asked, as she heard something hit the floor. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I tried knocking and then calling you, but you didn’t answer,” she explained, now feeling almost silly for stopping by unannounced. 

“Yeah, I uh… uh…” 

“I should’ve called first,” she said, shaking her head. “I was leaving my mom’s after having dinner there and thought I’d stop by. But, I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“No!” he called out, as something dropped again and he swore. “I’m glad you’re here, I was just…” He sighed loudly and she frowned, wondering what was going on in there. 

“Mulder, it’s fine. You continue what you’re doing. It wasn’t anything important. I’ll let you get back to it.” 

She took one step back and he opened the door at the same time. When she looked at him, her eyes widened in surprise. 

“Ohhhh,” she breathed, laughter being choked down as she stared at him, fighting back a smile even as she felt it stretching across her face. 

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled and the laughter she tried to contain came bubbling out, bending her forward, as he crossed his arms and sighed deeply. 

“Mulder,” she laughed, shaking her head as she looked at him again, taking in the green clay mask on his face, thicker in some spots and thinner in others. Thin streaks of it were even in his hair. “What are you doing, Mulder?” 

“I…” he said with a sigh. 

“Have you… have you…” She laughed and then tried to sober up, still snickering softly. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” 

“No, you shouldn’t,” he said, attempting to look angry, but with the clay mask covering his face so unevenly, it did not come across that way. 

“Mulder,” she said, laughing as she shook her head again. “What? How long have you been doing this?” 

“Well, in case you couldn’t tell,” he said, turning around and walking back into the bathroom, looking into the mirror as she followed him, smiling at his reflection. “I’ve never done this before. I think I did it wrong.” 

“It’s just…” she said, stepping closer to him and tilting her head, pointing to the left side of his face. “It needs to be a little thicker on that side. You’ve also got it in your hair. A headband would help that from happening.” 

“Oh right. I should have used that headband I have lying around,” he said sarcastically, looking at her as she smiled. 

“I think I have an extra one if you’d like to borrow it. For next time,” she offered and he shook his head. 

“I think this may be the only time. I don’t know if it’s for me.” 

“Come on,” she said, picking up the container and opening it. Taking a sniff of the familiar scent, she smiled and handed it to him. “Put it on the rest of the way and let it sit the full twenty minutes. Then decide if you don’t want to do it again.” 

“Fair enough, I suppose,” he said, dipping his fingers into the container and scooping up more of the clay, applying it to his face as he followed her directions of where to put more, even taking her suggestion to add it halfway down his neck. 

“There. How does that feel?” she asked when he was done and he washed his hands as she closed the container. 

“Hmm, it’s starting to feel slightly… tingly?” 

“Yeah. That’ll be from the mint. It’ll start feeling tighter as it dries and then you can wash it off.” 

He stared in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side and then back as he looked at his neck. Cutting his eyes to her, she smiled at him and nodded. 

“You’ll like it.” 

“Hmm.” 

“How about some tea while you wait? Or a beer?” she asked with a laugh when he made a face. 

“I think I have some in the fridge.” 

“I’m almost certain that’s all you have,” she teased. 

“Nah, I’ve also got some leftover Chinese from the other night.” 

They went into the kitchen and he took out containers of food and two beers while she grabbed utensils, plates, and napkins. At the table, he sat down and she smiled behind her hand as she watched him filling his plate, his face and half his neck covered in the clay mask. 

Stabbing an egg roll with a fork, he ate it carefully, chewing slowly. 

“So,” she said, taking an egg roll for herself. “What made you decide to do this?” She waved to his face with the egg roll, crossing her legs as she sat forward in her chair and took a bite and began to chew. 

“Well,” he said, setting his egg roll down and wiping his hands on his napkin. “I needed some shaving cream and as I was walking down one of the aisles, the sight of the container caught my eye. I stopped and picked it up, reading what it did exactly and well…” He shrugged and then frowned slightly. “Oh, I feel it tightening a little.” 

“Hmm,” she said, setting her egg roll on a napkin and reaching for the container of chow mein, eating a forkful of the cold noodles right from the carton. 

“It’s a really odd feeling,” he said, touching his face gently. “It’s drying in some spots and still a little damp in others.” Tilting his head back, he touched his neck and hummed. 

“Don’t touch it so much,” she said, laughing softly as she pulled his hand away from his neck. “Just let it dry.” 

“How often do you do this?” 

“Uh, once a month usually. Two times, if I feel like it.” 

He moved his mouth from side to side and raised his eyebrows up and down which caused her to laugh, his expression quite comical. 

“I really wasn’t sure why you weren’t answering my many attempts to reach you, but I admit, this never crossed my mind.” 

“Always gotta keep you on your toes, Scully,” he said, taking another bite of egg roll and smiling, the skin on his face stretching to accommodate the movement. 

“That you do, Mulder. That you do,” she said, laughing as she stared at him and he winked. 

_______________

March 2003

A late winter storm blew in, forcing them to extend their stay in a cabin they had planned to leave after their prepaid two weeks. They had food, firewood, and some bottles of wine to tide them over, so they did not view the storm as a hindrance. 

When the power went out and the generator kicked on, the lights dimming somewhat, they decided to turn off the movie they had been watching to conserve power. Mulder stood up to search for some candles while she stirred the fire and added another couple of logs to it. 

“So,” Mulder said, walking back into the room with his arms full of candles in varying shapes and sizes. “I have an idea of what we can do to pass the evening now that the movie is off the table.” 

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow raised as she looked at him. “The whole evening?” 

“Not that,” he laughed, reaching for the matches and handing them to her. “I mean, unless…” He raised his eyebrows, jerking his head toward the bedroom. 

“Hmm, maybe later,” she said, smiling as she started lighting the candles. 

“Then I’ll be right back,” he said and she watched him walk to the bedroom, wondering what he had in mind. 

He was back quickly with his hands behind his back, a happy smile on his face. 

“Pick a hand,” he said, coming closer to her. She smiled and pointed to his left hand. Pulling it from behind his back, he presented her with the container of her clay face mask. 

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “What else have you got hidden back there?” 

Showing her his other hand, he held the three bottles of nail polish from her makeup bag, along with her stretchy headband, which was hanging from his wrist. 

“Face masks and pedicures?” she asked, looking from one hand to the other. “That’s what you want to do?” 

“Or we could…” He gestured to the bedroom again and she laughed, shaking her head. 

“If I can paint your toes, then I’m in.” 

“I choose the red one,” he said, setting everything onto the table, except the bottle of red nail polish that he began to shake as she laughed. 

Pouring them each a glass of wine, she sat down as she pulled her hair back and put her headband on, looking up at him expectantly. He grinned and picked up the container, removed the lid and scooped out some of the clay. He rubbed it in his hands and then began to apply it to her face, massaging as he did.  

“That feels really good,” she said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back further. 

“Good,” he said, rubbing the clay across her chin and down her throat. “And if at any time this becomes too erotic for you and you do want to head to the bedroom, I have no doubt that this can be washed off quite quickly.” 

She scoffed as she opened her eyes, smiling and then rolled her eyes at him.  

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 

“Good,” he said again as he kissed her softly and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the relaxing feel of the mask being applied, even as her heart beat faster. 

His mask application took longer as he stopped her many times for a kiss, some lasting longer than the others, his hands at her waist and traveling down further before she stepped out of his reach and he groaned in protest.

“You think you can make it?” she teased and he hummed as he shook his head. 

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted and she laughed quietly as she stepped close to him again and rubbed the clay onto his forehead. 

They sat on the couch, his feet resting in her lap, and she smiled as she covered his previously bare toenails with red polish. Blowing on them, she heard his sharp intake of breath and looked up at him. 

“No,” he said firmly and she chuckled with a nod of understanding. 

Switching positions, she placed her feet in his lap. He painted her toenails a light blue and she smiled at the focused attention he put into it, making sure it was done well. He looked up at her when he was finished and he smiled. 

“Oh, I forgot about the mask,” he said, touching his cheek. “It’s already nearly dry.” 

“Well, you can wash it off soon. Unless you want to wait until our polish has dried and we could wash it off in the shower.” 

“The shower? To wash off a face mask?” he asked with a frown. 

“Yeah,” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Oh. You meant… together,” he said, raising his own eyebrows. 

“That is what I had in mind, yes.” 

“After the polish has dried,” he reiterated. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed with a smile, her own mask feeling almost dry as well. 

“Well…” he said, making sure the bottle of polish was closed tightly before he set it on the coffee table. Lifting her foot, he blew gently across her toes and it was her turn to draw in a sharp breath. 

“Fi… five minutes,” she whispered, licking her lips. 

“Let’s see if we can’t cut that in half,” he said, blowing on her toes again and she nodded. 

“I’m also not opposed to simply redoing them tomorrow, should they not have time to dry. Just so you’re aware,” she informed him. 

“Yeah, that works much better for me,” he said, moving her feet and rising from the couch. 

Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up and toward the bedroom as she laughed; the face mask stretching as she did.

Her toenails would most certainly need to be redone tomorrow, but she did not care. At that moment, her desire for the man she loved took precedence over all else. 

Especially smudged toes. 

Or face masks that had not quite dried. 

[vintageshanny]

Play Something for Me

Writing Prompt: Army Elvis

Content: oral sex, sexual conduct in a church, lonely Elvis in Germany, 18+

Thank you to these amazing ladies @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for always encouraging me and for inspiring me with their writing and their horny fantasies love of Elvis.

“Mom!  Mom!  Is this you?” Ruby looked up from chopping carrots as her eleven-year-old daughter Ella burst into the kitchen excitedly.  “This looks just like old pictures of you!” she continued in amazement, shoving the magazine in Ruby’s face.  “What is this?” Ruby murmured as she saw the image, her heart beginning to race as memories came instantly flooding back.  “It’s a fan magazine, mom,” Ella said with exasperation.  “It’s all about Elvis’ new Aloha special, but there’s this section of old pictures.  This one is of fans standing outside his house in Germany,” she explained.  “Why does this girl look just like you?”  Ruby gazed at the black and white photo of her 18-year-old self, her hands still clutching the knife and a carrot.  “That is me, honey,” she said as calmly as possible, trying to keep the tremor of emotion out of her voice.  “What?!  You were in Germany at the same time as Elvis?  Standing outside his house?  And you never told me? Did you see him?  Did you talk to him?  Was he as beautiful in person?”  Ella’s questions came pouring out in a torrent of words.  Ruby tried to focus on what Ella was asking as the entire experience played through her mind in an instant.  

************************************************************************

“Hey, you!” Ruby shouted as the tall slim figure finished scaling the fence and dropped down in front of her.  “Jesus Christ, lil’ girl, ya sc-sc-scared me,” he stuttered as he put a hand in front of his eyes, attempting to shield himself from the bright light of Ruby’s flashlight.  Her jaw dropped as the light shone fully on his face.  “It’s - it’s you!” she squeaked out, her face turning bright red as her eyes looked him up and down.  “Shh!  Yeah, i-i-it’s me, now don’t alert the attack dogs,” he said, nodding toward the front of the house where throngs of fans were still on the lookout for a glimpse of their beloved idol.  “That’s quite the way to talk about your fans,” Ruby mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed about being just another annoying fan to him.  “Aw, honey, that wasn’t directed at you,” Elvis teased.  “You were obviously jus’ snoopin’ around my house with a big ol’ flashlight for some completely innocent reason, right?”  Ruby could feel her cheeks burning as Elvis looked her up and down appraisingly.  “Actually,” she said defensively, “I heard something and thought it might be an intruder.  I was trying to protect you.”  The corner of Elvis’ mouth went up in a crooked little grin.  “That’s mighty sweet of ya, honey,” he spoke in a low voice, making her shiver with some kind of strange energy.  “But I don’t need no protectin’, I was jus’ sneakin’ out for a little walk.”  “Alone?” Ruby asked before realizing how rude and nosy that sounded.  She was glad for the darkness that somewhat covered up her constant blushing.  “Not anymore,” Elvis said as he headed off toward a path around the back of the house.  “You comin’?” he called over his shoulder.  Ruby hurried to catch up with his long strides.

Once Elvis knew he was safe from the crowd, his gait slowed a little bit.  Ruby settled into the more comfortable pace beside him.  “So why are you trying to escape from all those people who love you so much?” Ruby asked, her voice cutting through the silence.  “I-I-I’m not tryin’ to escape, I jus’ needed a little time away, and I didn’t want ‘em to think I was ignorin’ ‘em.  I-I-I didn’t want to let anyone down,” his voice was close to a whisper by the end, and Ruby noted with delight how cute his nervous little stutter was.  “I don’t think you could disappoint anyone,” Ruby declared, feeling her face flush yet again.  “Oh, I could, honey.  Y’see, all those people love Elvis Presley, but they don’t really know me.  I ain’t without faults, y’know.”  The way his eyes bore into her body, Ruby felt that maybe he was talking about one fault in particular.  “Well, everybody has faults, but people still love each other,” she pointed out.  Elvis smiled at that.  “I s’pose you’re right.  That’s mighty smart of you, Miss - what’s your name, honey?”  “It’s Ruby,” she answered, nervously looking down as Elvis stopped walking right under the glow of the streetlight.  “Ruby.  That’s a perfect name for you, honey,” he said with a grin.  “Oh?  Why’s that?” Ruby questioned.  “Cuz you’re beautiful.  And your face gets red as a ruby every time I look at ya,” he said teasingly.  “It does not!” Ruby protested, even as she felt her face burning up with humiliation.  She swatted at his arm, but he caught her hand and pulled her in close.  “Aw, Ruby honey, I think it’s cute,” he said leaning down toward her face.  Before she knew what was happening, his sweet soft lips were smushed against hers.  She couldn’t stop a gentle gasp from escaping, and his tongue slipped into her mouth.  Elvis cradled the back of her neck with one hand, the other clasped tight against the side of her breast as he continued the passionate kiss.  When he finally pulled back, he smiled at the blissful look on her face.  “That felt really nice,” Ruby whispered, her eyes still closed.  “It sure did, honey,” Elvis continued walking, this time holding her hand in his.  

“So what are ya doin’ in Germany, honey?  I know ya ain’t from here because you’re one of the only girls who can understand what I’m sayin’,” Elvis joked.  “Oh, my father is stationed here for work, but we’re actually moving back to the States in three days,” Ruby explained.  “Oh, I see, ya just came to cast your spell on me before takin’ off, huh?” he said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.  “Well, I really wanted to meet you before I left.  I’ve always loved your music and, um, you’re just so handsome, too,” she whispered.  She was surprised to see it was Elvis’ turn to blush at that.  “Well, I-I-I hope you still love it when this two years is over,” he said.  “Oh, I’ll always love you.  Your music, I mean,” Ruby quickly corrected.  Elvis chuckled.  “I’m glad ta hear it honey.  I-I-It’s been kind of a rough time for me lately, so it’s nice to hear someone loves me.  My music, I mean,” he teased as he gave her hand a playful squeeze.

“What’s this place here?” Elvis asked, motioning to the building they were walking toward.  “Oh, this is St. Bonifatius, the Catholic church,” Ruby explained.  “I like the windows,” Elvis said, eyeing the stained glass that glittered a little bit under the streetlights.  “Do you want to go in and look around?  The churches usually stay open for people to go in and pray.”  Elvis nodded, and the two of them walked through the door into the vestibule.  Elvis peeked into the church and glanced around at the empty pews. “I guess it’s just us in here, honey,” he announced, sounding relieved.  “Oh, there’s a nice piano!” he exclaimed, walking up toward the altar.  “Would you maybe play me something please?” Ruby asked with a smile.  “Well, since ya asked so sweetly, I’ll play something for my little red Ruby,” Elvis sat down at the piano bench, his long legs spread apart.  

Ruby stood next to the piano and watched as Elvis began to run his fingers over the keys, launching into “If I Loved You.”  She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as his performance became more passionate, his eyes closing.  “Oh!” Ruby gasped as her eyes dropped to his lap and she saw that his passion was not contained to the piano playing.  Elvis heard her gasp and opened his eyes, following her gaze down to where Little Elvis was trying to put on his own performance, straining against the pants that held him down.  His fingers paused, hovering over the keys nervously.  “I-I-I’m sorry, honey, I-I-I just get so e-e-excited performing sometimes that I, I mean, it’s, um,” Elvis nervously stumbled over his explanation.  “Elvis, it’s okay,” Ruby said, stepping closer.  “Just keep playing.  I can help you,” she whispered as she lowered herself in between his legs.  “Y-y-you’re gonna help me?  In here?” Elvis looked around.  “You said yourself, it’s just us in here,” Ruby said softly, reaching to unzip his pants.  “But honey, you don’t gotta-”  “Shh,” Ruby interrupted gently, “I just want to make you feel better.”  She was surprised at her own forwardness, but something about him just made her want to please him. She pulled his hard cock out and started stroking it with her hand. She liked how firm and warm it felt as the skin moved up and down. She had never seen a man’s private parts before, but she’d heard gossip from her friends about what you were supposed to do with it. “Play something for me,” she requested, not wanting him to notice her inexperience. “Oh, oh, okay,” Elvis moaned in answer as Ruby leaned in and touched her tongue to the tip of his cock.  Elvis tried to focus on the keys under his fingers as Ruby’s warm mouth enveloped him completely.  

Ruby glanced up from where she was clumsily sliding her tongue all over Elvis’ cock.  She had no idea what she was doing, but Elvis didn’t seem to mind.  He was now playing what sounded like totally random chords as his head was tilted back, his breath coming out in moans and pants.  She slid her mouth down further, trying to see if she could fit all of him inside.  As she sucked her way back up to the tip, Elvis stopped playing completely and moaned out, “Oh God, Ruby, I-I-I can’t take it anymore.  I’m g-g-gonna cum.”  His hips thrust up a little bit as something warm and thick filled her mouth.  It tasted different, but there was nowhere to go with it, so she swallowed it down.  Elvis looked down at her with a smile that warmed her heart.  “Why’d you stop playing?” Ruby asked with a grin.  “Oh I don’ know honey, you were makin’ me sing instead,” Elvis laughed.  “You had me singing Alleluia in here.”  As he tucked his cock back into his pants, he started laughing harder at his joke.  “At least we’re in the right place for it though!”  The sound of his hiccupping laughter made Ruby start giggling too until both of them were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. 

“Oh honey, I needed that so much,” Elvis pulled Ruby up onto his lap on the bench and kissed her lips softly.  “I’ve, um, never done that before,” Ruby admitted shyly.  Elvis smiled and nuzzled his nose against her cheek.  “I thought that might be the case.”  “Oh,” Ruby replied nervously.  “Was it not very good?”  “Naw, honey, it was perfect, I loved it.  Made me feel like I must be doin’ somethin’ right to earn that from you,” he whispered in her ear.  “Well, I just think you’re really something special, and I wanted to give you something to remember me by,” Ruby said, running her fingers over the collar of his shirt.  “Oh, Ruby honey, trust me, this is something I won’t ever forget.  You gave me some, uh, comfort in a very tryin' time,” he smiled.

After Elvis walked her home, Ruby asked “Are you sure you won’t forget me?”  “Never, honey," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I’ll find a way ta let ya know how special this was ta me,” he smiled and gave her another sweet kiss before turning and heading back to his house, hoping he could find a way to hold onto the happiness Ruby had made him feel in the midst of all this loneliness.  

************************************************************************

“Mom!  Mom!  Are you listening to me?” Ella’s voice cut through the memories Ruby had hidden away for fifteen years.  “There’s this interview here where they’re asking him about his career and stuff.  They asked what he liked best about being in Germany, and he said there was this beautiful church where he got to play the piano and it brought him so much happiness when he was sad.  Isn’t that cool?  What if you walked into church and Elvis Presley was playing the piano?”  Ella rambled on as Ruby's breath caught in her throat.  Elvis’ words played back in her mind.  “I’ll find a way ta let ya know how special this was ta me.”  Ruby quickly wiped away a tear as Ella continued.  “You’re not answering me, mom!  Did you ever get to see him?”  Ruby smiled and decided to tell the truth in the simplest and most appropriate way she could.  “I only got a glimpse of him, but he was even more beautiful in person.”

[unicornsaures]

yapping about the outsiders x amrev

Okay so first off, not replacing any characters, obviously. Im thinking the aides are their own seperate little group that just hang around one another. Not an actual gang like the shepard gang but more how the main characters run; just a group thats independent, but willing to stick up for one another. Ive decided that if i ever do something with this god forsaken AU its genuinely just gonna be mostly seperate from the main plot because none of the aides themselves would be socs and so the plot wouldnt even be relevant until the very end.(I have been thinking of making Lafayette a soc or something. Just for the fuck of it to test some limits to hamilton, laurens, and laf's friendship with the whole bob thing ehe!)

But for the sake of this AU, theyre all aged into their 20s except for Washington. Its just easier than having 60 year olds street fighting.

Right, so characters! I havent thought much on other aides BUT i have thought VERY heavily on Laurens and Hamilton, obviously. So, starting with Laurens. Hes literally the same. Hes just as impulsive as he is during his time period if not worse. Hes given more opportunities to fight and he takes every. single. one. I would say hes similar to Dally but really he isnt. He'll get in a fistfight every week or so but nothing serious enough he ends up in jail. His relationship with HL is kind if rocky, too. They moved from SC to fucking oklahoma and John is not too happy about the move, for one, and his father isnt happy that Laurens turned into a 'hood.' Mainly, he just wont sleep at his own house. He'll crash at Meade's place or maybe Hamilton's run down, abandoned little house if he has to. HL isnt abusive or anything he just doesnt like living with so many siblings while his father goes on and on about how hes a bad influence. Not helping that he has a new bruise or cut every time he vists but i digress, John is basically a 'watered down' dally.

Righttt, Hamilton! Yeah, born in NYC, mom died, got too expensive, so he moved to good ol Oklahoma without his dad. I may just say he works at DX with Soda and whatnot because while the aides arent needed for the plot, i want them to feel a lil somethin somethin when everything goes down in the book and having a relation to both Soda and Steve would at least make Hamilton feel a bit bad and maybe even convince him to fight in the rumble at the end. Laurens and him arent really officially dating either. Theyre technically exclusive, but they never really talked about it and kind of just say theyre there to keep each other in check. Neither of them really want to confront any of their emotions towards anything so they settle for hamilton lovingly scolding laurens every time he gets in a fight and sharing 'no homo' kisses. Yeah and he lives in this run down house that he doesnt pay for and he has to drop by Meade's place whenever cops come searching for anyone living in there because i need him to be a little bit pathetic.

The rest of the aides are primarily undecided, if im being honest. Meade's parents are still alive from what I know and the other aides either stay at their own house or crash at Meade's, but Laurens is usually taking up the couch on most nights as does Hamilton. Most of the other aides arent big fighters really, theyre just trying to make it through college/day to day jobs. Washington kind of watches over all of them, like an unofficial father to their lil gang. They just hang around him and he frequently scolds them all for misbehaving. Hes like darry but older i guess. (Hes like, in his late 40's in this AU.)

Oh, and kinloch is there because i said so! If anything, he gives me major soc vibes and i primarily think he is why Laurens has such a knack for starting fights with socs for no reason. They were some weird ass situationship and they had an unofficial breakup that Laurens is still extremely salty over. Francis totally went for his neck during the rumble btw and they hate each other and laurens still tries to start fights with him whenever he sees him.

Though, Lafayette is also pretty undecided. I want him to be a greaser but at the same time i think him being a soc would test the limits of him and laurens' friendship while also he and hamilton's friendship. Laurens because obviously, francis. Hamilton because he saw how the socs affected soda, steve, etc and he feels bad for them, but also Lafayette would be dead set that Johnny is a murderer because he needs to stick up for the socs to stay loyal.

Now lets talk about the rumble! I think only some of the aides would get involved, really. Hamilton would because he saw how johnny affected steve and soda, Laurens because he just wants to fight, and the two dragged along Tilghman and Harrison because theyre strong enough to do some genuine damage. The rest of them just dont want to be involved in all of that and think its easier to just not get hurt.(Meade tags along but stands off to the side just to make sure no one gets seriously injured. He has change ready for a pay phone in case he needs to call up washington.)

Now, what i think would be interesting is their reaction to Dally's death. Im saying Laurens wouldve heard his name, as would all of the greasers, really. So their entire gang would know his name, but im mainly thinking about Laurens for this one because id like to think that he kind of looked up to him in some fucked up way? Not really looked up to, but more so respected. I feel like with Ham telling him about how Soda and Steve reacted and how they act at the DX afterwards would really fuck with him too and id like to think hed drop by the curtis house or some shit to say that he thought dally was a cool guy or something.

Yeah, anyway this is all pretty rough in terms of what the fuck im yapping about i just spat out every word that came to mind.

[gothmiqote]

Who gets up the earliest? Who has the worst sleep schedule? Who is the sleepiest?

What’s their opinions on PDA? (idk how to make the numbered list go away im so sorry)

(lmao honestly that’s why you’ll catch me replacing them with bullet points half the time. love that uncooperative post text editor.)

Who gets up the earliest? Who has the worst sleep schedule? Who is the sleepiest?

You’d probably think they’re in some type of unspoken competition for who has the worst sleeping habits. They both sleep regularly enough—prolonged stretches of being awake aren’t exactly recommended in their line of work. But the approaches to this are… questionable, to put it mildly.

Varha is dead-convinced that she’s at peak functioning when she sleeps every other night, 48 hour-ish periods in between. If she pushes herself to the cusp of exhaustion, she doesn’t have as much trouble actually getting herself to close her eyes. She wants to enjoy sleeping, really, but she’s unfortunately prone to some upsettingly hyperrealistic dreams (not always necessarily nightmares, but those happen) & she doesn’t find she ever really wakes up feeling particularly rested or emotionally good. After a few days of forcing herself to be awake though, she knows she’ll drop off into a heavy sleep for about 10-12 hours, and it’s less likely for her to wake up in the middle of the night. That kind of messes with her; falling back asleep is never a quick thing.

Estinien’s approach is to sleep for shorter periods at a higher frequency. He’s a light sleeper, and can usually only sleep for four, maybe five hours at his most exhausted anyway. If he does wake up in the middle of it, he doesn’t have nearly as much of a rough time falling back asleep if he wants to, but it’s also not as big of a deal if he doesn’t—he can make up for it over the course of his day. He does dream, but they’re significantly more vague that hers are most of the time & often forgotten by the time he’s up again. Is he well-rested? Well, kind of. He’s at least not entirely adverse to closing his eyes if he needs to, and doesn’t like to put it off if he can help it. He still doesn’t enjoy it when he wakes up before he planned to, though. But he wakes up alert most of the time & doesn’t need that extra hour to be ready to face the world, he’s basically good to go as soon as his eyes pop open.

Considering all this, you probably can’t really quantify who gets up earlier between them. Technically, she is up before he is, but only because she never went to bed. On the other hand, he’s up before her on the nights she feels like sleeping, but only because he’s probably slept & woken up after less than an hour three times over the course of the night.

He thinks her sleeping habits are insane, point blank. He gets the reason why she’s like that, because he’s also seen the distress that comes when she does sleep—but he still refuses to believe it’s her body’s “natural rhythm,” despite her claims otherwise. This can be mostly blamed on how dead on her feet she tends to look in the last few hours leading up to her passing out, combined with a shorter fuse & a noticeable increase in emotional sensitivity. She vehemently denies all of this & insists no one can actually tell when she needs to sleep.

They don’t exactly fight about it, but it’s not uncommon for him to get a bit irritated with her insistence that she’s fine either. He knows what intentional sleep deprivation looks like, his past self having been quite familiar with that particular form of self-harm. (She’s gotten better about the way she reflexively treats herself, but old habits die hard & she’s skilled at justifying it to her own mind.) It’s cliche, but at lot of her issues get mitigated if not on her own. It doesn’t even have to be sharing a bed with him—even the presence of a friend in the same tent is a balm for anxiety. If a fellow Scion is looking at her & insisting it’s time to turn in, it’s very possible to see her breaking her ‘natural schedule’ after some light resistance. She can dress it up like she’s doing them a favour somehow, making it easier in her head.

Estinien gets to take a more direct approach than subtle negotiations, though. For one thing, he’s absolutely capable of picking her up & just... Placing her on the mattress if need be. Which he does sometimes, just for fun. The second part of this is knowing exactly how much she enjoys cuddling & how easy it is to trap her that way. Alright, fine, she’s not planning on sleeping until the next night. But he’s going to bed now & would very much appreciate it if she humoured his request to at least join him for a bit, no, she doesn’t need to sleep, but relaxing for a few hours surely won’t hurt? It works every time; she usually ends up drifting off too.

Varha's come to the conclusion that the Echo is at least partly to blame for her problems. There's nothing to support this beyond her own theory, but it makes enough sense to her, especially since the dream settings aren't always familiar to her. She's also long since determined that there's nothing prophetic in them. If these are real events, they've already passed. It's at the worst in the weeks following Endwalker's events, when things are winding down & she's finally able to release all of the stress she's been holding in her body. Yes, she's exhausted & sleeps more consistently in that month than she probably has in years, but once she plateaus past that initial drop, the interruptions begin. She'll routinely wake up from a dead sleep, disoriented & completely convinced that they've somehow failed, or someone got left behind. She's never been more grateful for Estinien's ability to rouse himself into full consciousness in a handful of seconds than these moments, instantly providing warm, physical grounding & simple verbal reassurance. She doesn't need much, just someone who sounds stable & like they're got a better grasp on reality than she does to tell her everyone's fine, everyone is safe, she's allowed to rest. He generally loathes having an excess of downtime, but he refuses to let her deal with this alone.

What’s their opinions on PDA?

Answered a bit here.

To reiterate, they're pretty alright with it to a certain point. The biggest thing is whether or not the time and place is appropriate for it. If it is? PDA is just going to happen naturally. It's never really anything grandiose, but they like to maintain some form of physical contact in most settings (e.x. casual gatherings are whatever, the war table feels thematically incorrect--professional environments are a 'no' 99% of the time) & there's nothing wrong with a kiss. He's definitely working with a bit of a possessive streak, which she honestly enjoys & doesn't discourage. She likes being held; she likes to be reminded that she's loved. It's not that she gets inundated with offers once she becomes more known to the public, but she likes to think that his obvious presence at her side is part of the reason why.

Neither party is inclined to make verbal statements of affection, which automatically makes it less awkward for everyone involved. He's just... not good at it if he's actually trying. Don't get me wrong, Estinien has absolutely said some things to her that were so unexpectedly sweet she still gets flustered if she thinks about them now, but none of those statements came from him actually attempting to get that sort of reaction--they were just his honest thoughts in the moment. And for Varha, the idea of being verbally affectionate in public actually makes her want to peel her own skin off & roll around on the salt flats until death takes her. Self-awareness is the killer here, she can't get out of her own head long enough to be earnest around other people (wheedling the vulnerability out in private is somewhat easier. Somewhat).

For them, touch/pda serves to replace some of the verbal aspects found in other relationships. No need to stumble over your words when a squeeze of the hand will do.

asks.

[necronatural]

oh it goin DOWN on twitter

sorry for mobhundred discourse and also making this a little about me. #testimonials.

I've been staying out of it because of overlapping circles & callout posts being incendiary but I always disliked SC in a "this person is unlikable" way, didn't do anything but be self-righteous and overly sensitive. like

I'd DM my friend shit she says with her name cropped out to go "LOL", making sure not to name her because no one should be put on blast for being annoying. But "that includes telling someone to explode" is objectively funny as fuck

overall I interpreted all the sketchy stuff in the fic as like general incompetence? And stopped reading. Seeing the shit she did/wrote like the week after I cooled off from MP100 feels like an atom bomb going off behind my head like she HUH?>????

I don't actually think "neutral on proship discourse" should be a warning sign, it's well-known that discourse is meaningless namecalling. It can be necessary to state your allegiances in specifically MP100 fandom because it attracts like a SHOCKING amount of people really weird about 13-year-olds, though. Disproportionate to any other fandom I've ever been. Something in the goddamn water in that fandom stg its EVIL out there.

Anyway I think an obsessive fixation on pedophilia was the actual warning sign. The fic is constantly full of these whiplash interjects like a fixative "wow, sure hope no one thinks I'm a creep, kind of creepy lol" circling. This kind of uncharacteristic fixation is what She Doth Protest Too Much really looks like.

I don't have much in the way in personal stories because I just gave them space. Uhhh I ended up in a discord server where she was friends with just about every frequent poster and popular artist in there. I found her behaviour to be kind of argumentative, but never escalating. So I was like okay, I was being uncharitable, it's just that she's sensitive. Just because I don't like her doesn't mean I gotta be rude. She unblocked me (I was blocked for saying proship electric chair as a joke) and I so I tried to be supportive and sociable by getting into her fic for a while. And now people are posting the most singularly insane quotes I've ever seen from right after where I dropped off. Holy mary mother of god.

And ok. Not to be presumptuous. but her friend SpCh is a notorious flying monkey to the point when I made a thread about how people in the west don't really bother researching other cultures and basic aspects of other countries, assuming they know everything, and SpCh misinterpreted the entire thread so badly I can only assume she was defending SC's honour based on 1 tweet. GIRL I WAS TALKING ABOUT SCUM VILLAIN FANFIC. IF A HIT DOG HOLLERS?

[crunchchute]

HELP WANTED 2 SPOILERS

thinking about how small his hands are in these parts (sc from dawkos vid) its kinda. you know. being normal

also when his hand reached from the charging pod i first thought its just a human hand fhfhgh the lighting and everything made the stitching invisible and previously i just thought of him as huge with the biggest hands ever but seeing those dainty ones im like huhhhh no way thats him

shitty screenshot for comparison (too lazy to take more this one is old) you cant see much but if you know what blob youre looking at, your VR hands are like half the size of his

man and i still dont know how i feel about this. i wanted to see glitch again, but i was completely fine with not seeing him. like i fully believed that he Wont be in HW2, i even tweeted that before the game dropped. and IF he was to show up, then i expected a completely different form or just tiny hints (like the locked files for example, i liked that), but with what we got im just confused!! what is this lore here!! why is he back like this! what!! whos driving the plane!!

and people are already making more guesses about whos the player, cassie would mean this is post ruin and idk if that makes sense (was there ruined chica? i havent played thru everything yet and only know of SB chica) i dont know. thats a mystery. i also think its not quite it because of the ending and how we didnt see the pizzasim like this in ruin, did we? i gen dont remember and i watched ruin gameplays like 83 times atp

some saying its gregory, i dont think so. why wouldnt roxy remember him and such... at least its not just gregory

vanessa again? i dont know, that was my guess but honestly have no idea. perhaps its set during pre ruin and while she and gregory were setting up the mxes system? like that is my guess here, nothing else makes sense to me

cassies dad. i dont know. not enough proof for me? but the more i think about it the less im against it (with her speaking about him in past tense, if this was his demise, that would sort of make sense if he was the one giving the mask for her, but again need more proof. theres apparently some unused lines that could hint at it but i havent gone through unused stuff yet. i would still consider it as i did with ruinborn afton, if not for that creature i wouldnt even think of the entity being william but would have just stayed with the shadow bonnie theory pff) theres that one bonnie mask in PQ and perhaps the whole bonnie kid = cassies dad = hw2 player theory isnt all that bad

but i thought it might be vanessa and gregory? im thinking of PQ and getting rid of glitch and this 4th PQ is cool but confusing as hell but the thing candy cadet was saying about coming back and stuff idk its all a mess for me rn but yeah perhaps its not that deep and glitch is just that hard to kill off. he always comes back i mean uhh

OR wait wait. how i said mimic shed aftons remains and burntrap split back to glitchtrap and the mimic post SB? that makes sense no? instead of going buntrap -> mimic + entity, its mimic + glitchtrap Again and then vanessa wiped him for good and with gregorys help also locked up the mimic. thats it thats gotta be it right? shrimple as that

and vanessa and ggy while making the security nodes (im not 100% in it but im leaning towards it) something got in (the entity), because you cannot wipe him out, hes forever haunting this place. thats what you get for building this huge plex on top of his gotdamn house and farm and whatever. mansion. whatever he is in there. dear mr. fazbear entertainment, william afton is in your walls

anyway so that would beeee SB, PQ ending, they come back, get rid of any leftover traces of glitch and lock up the mimic, then cassie gets in in ruin. and hw2 would then take place sometime pre-ruin, we dont know how long it is so i would even say hw2 happened post-SB until ruin or it overlaps ruin (because were shown the ending scene with cassie but honestly i would rather see it happen pre-ruin and that just being a hint but i have no ideaaa)

people were also saying that cassies dad made the mxes system or vanessa but i think the system was like there originally for years if not thru the entirety of the pizzaplex' existence and vanessa and gregory only made the nodes to keep mimic inside and cassies dad was just a technician that has used the mask and stuff, i just dont know how it works with the og vanny mask which didnt yet have all the tech inside but perhaps that was just like an in-VR version of it in the first hw. man i dont know.

then theres the mxes entity player theory which is... eh, how would they function in reality? and why would they give cassie the mask if were hinting at some possession of mapbot? i dont like that idea past the entity being you know who and also getting rid of a past version of himself (glitch) man i need like a discussion circle

ooftroop and friends please make another video about this please (please)

one last thought, glitchs color seems to be magenta (or purple if you wanna say that) and the mxes system is that color, but the entity is more blue and idk what to do with that information. mr entity why arent you purple WHY ARE YOU BLUE literally my only missing puzzle piece if that mf was purple i would be 100% confident thats him (but im only 99% because he is more bluish but he is the same color as ruinborn who is afton to me and people saying its not, i dont understand you. what do you mean. what do you mean thats not frights corpse afton with his messed up face and bunny ears springing up out of nowhere. he is literally him)

when ppl say that the only people that disagree with everything being just the mimic and that dont get the current lore are just gacha kids, i WISH i was just a gacha kid making up random stories because this is HELL

also that hand puppet glitch is uglyyyy i want 10 (to put in a blender)

[yunhsuanhuang]

You Look So Good In Blue | Y.H. Huang

Inspired by Child Ballad 16.

When a teenage fling mutates into something vast and terrifying, two seventeen year olds at a certain mid-tier college in Singapore make a desperate plan to control their future, earn their parents' love (or at least respect), and get the hell out of this school for good.

i. the daughter

It's whispered in the kitchen, it's whispered in the hall

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair,

The king's daughter goes with child, among ladies all

And she'll never go down to the broom anymore.

It's whispered by the ladies one unto the other,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair,

“The king's daughter goes with child unto her own brother–

And they'll never go down to the broom anymore.”

Sheath and Knife, Maddy Prior

-

/r/sgacads

is st cecilia rly a pregnancy school?? [o levels]

/u/anxiousorange

hiii sorry for the 29583th school admissions post today lol but i just got my o level results back and they’re pretty ok ^_^ so i was thinking of going to st cecilia junior college since it’s near my house but the more i hear about it the more i want to reconsider… like apparently the people are very party type which is not really my thing?? and ofc everyones heard about how its got the highest pregnancy rate in sg o_0

is this true? or just say say one

comments (8)

/u/academicweapon

As a SCian it’s not true LOL none of us get bitches

/u/theatrekidaf

skill issue

/u/sharpsdisposal

we’re too busy failing physics :/

/u/zombiegrave

q: how many scians does it take to change a lightbulb?

a: none. they like it better darker 

/u/aw_bass34

Q: What’s the only test SC girls can pass?

A: Pregnancy test :P

/u/gregorythomas91 [s]

Damn old rumour, probably from 1990s, 2000s around there. But it’s not really unfounded. Especially with what happened in 2008.

/u/anxiousorange

what happened? im scared lol

/u/gregorythomas91 [s]

You haven’t heard meh? It was a big deal back then, I'm shocked they've covered it up that well. Let me try and remember. 

-

You never told me what really happened over those few blistering months in 2008, but I guess I wasn’t alone in that. Even when the newspapers shoved a mic in your face, even when you were being grilled by the lawyers, even when you were standing on that trap door, waiting for the drop– what really happened was a secret you’d bring to the grave.

So it’s all inference and extrapolation and linear correlation– sue me. How else am I going to make sense of that moment? How else do I come to terms with why you did what you did? Could I have known? Could I have stopped it? Was I even, when it came down to it, your friend– or was I just somebody who let you copy his lecture notes?

I don’t know. What I do know is this:

It was some mid-week mid-afternoon, indistinguishable from any other. The bell had just rung, and the whitewashed corridors were packed with sweaty kids rushing to PE, squeezing past those dragging their feet from class to class. We were part of the latter group, squinting against the September sun as we ambled across the quadrangle to home class. Above us, the school motto loomed in oversized light-blue letters: Remember you are in the presence of God. 

I was mentally calculating how long the Malay stall queue would be when you said, casual as always, “Eh, pass me your market failure notes later, can? I’m yellow-slipping after GP.”

I raised an eyebrow. You weren’t a stranger to leaving school early, but you’d been doing it more and more often lately, and at this point I hadn’t seen you stay for Shooting in ages. As your club captain, I was supposed to be concerned. As a friend– well, I was intrigued. Of course I’d heard the rumours, passed from homeroom to homeroom, Friendster account to Friendster account. Who in St Cecilia’s hadn’t?  “Is this related to whatever you and Camilla Wong have going on?” 

“Cam’s not my girlfriend,” you said, after a brief, completely unsuspicious pause.

I snorted. “She doesn’t let anyone in this school call her that but you, dumbass. ”

You ducked your head down to hide a smile, your dress-code fringe falling into your eyes. It was a strangely endearing habit. “Fine lah. We’re– seeing each other.” Then you continued, hurriedly, “But don’t let anyone else know, OK?”

“Fine, I'll write you off CCA for today. But don’t make it a habit, ar? Hold pen, not hold hand.” Despite myself, I grinned. Sure, the two of you made an unlikely couple. Wong was an ex-Convent girl and student councillor, all relentless energy and long hair tied so high it was prone to hit people when she spun, while the only time I’d ever seen you really alive was behind the barrel of an air pistol. Back then, I thought it was cute. Opposites attract– wasn’t that the backbone of any drama worth its salt?

I wouldn’t realise, until later, that despite how different the two of you appeared, at the core of it you were the same– pale and skinny and drowning in your school uniform, searching for exits the moment you stepped into a room. Always, always halfway out the door: of your school, of your body, of the life you knew.

But back then it was just a September afternoon, and we were only seventeen. You smiled back at me, all cheer, like you saw something I didn’t, like you saw something I never would.

-

In the end, though, this isn’t my story. This is yours. So let’s tell it your way.

-

The newly minted 1T26 trickled slowly from assembly into the classroom, chopeing the best desks and nervously rotating between the same few ice-breakers: orientation, secondary schools, O-Level points. As you entered, you cast a glance over the sea of blue pinafores and green pants. Still reeling from the sheer increase in the female population, you took a desk at the back, between the ancient, peeling noticeboard and the window looking out on the covered tennis courts. You were tall enough to see over all the heads, anyway.

Soon, your home tutor arrived, a round-faced lady toting an oversized Cath Kidston duffle bag, and wrote her name on the board in neat block letters: Mdm Alvares. The class stood to greet her, chairs scraping hurriedly against the linoleum. She beamed back, her smile all teeth, and was busy setting up the visualiser when the door slammed open.

The class spun in their seats. “Sorry,” the intruder sheepishly said, leaning against the doorframe. Some of her hair had fallen half-out of her high ponytail, her pinafore already wrinkled at the hem. A dusting of freckles covered her pink cheeks. 

Mdm Alvares squinted at the girl, then the laminated name list. “And you are?”

“Camilla Wong.”

Mdm Alvares looked out over the class, scanning the rows, and her eyes landed on an empty seat in the corner whose sole occupant was your beat-up Jansport. Realising where this was going, you sighed, putting your bag on the floor.

Camilla smiled, made her way in–

and put her bag down at another empty seat, half a class away.

–

There was nothing in this world you hated more than 4PM Maths lectures. That day the aircon was actually working, which you would normally have been grateful for, except for the fact that that sharp, recycled wind was blasting directly at the very back rows of LT5, right onto your face.

You were trying so hard to 1) figure out plane vectors and 2) stop yourself from getting hypothermia that you wouldn't be able to recall, later, the exact moment that Camilla fell asleep on your shoulder.

When you realised this, you froze. Oh, you thought, and didn't know what else to think. On one hand, it would’ve been so easy to wake her. Just a poke from your pen, and she would’ve jolted up almost instantly. On the other hand, though, her long eyebrows brushed against her freckled cheeks, and her chest rose and fell in these small, slight motions, and–

Before, you had only ever seen her as a baby-blue blur in the corners of your sight, always in motion even in the earliest of classes. But Camilla, asleep, tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and neck–it felt fragile, thrumming, tense. Like something made of glass, nestled gently in your hand, that it would only have taken a squeeze to splinter.

The next twenty-two minutes were the longest twenty-two minutes of your entire life so far. Even so, when the bell rang and Camilla pulled herself upright, you found yourself missing it already.

– 

After that, it was like a switch had been flipped in your brain. It was only then that you began to really Notice Camilla, capital N, italics. You noticed her with her head bowed in mass, noticed her shoving fishball noodles into her mouth at lunch, noticed her arguing with your classmates over technicalities in GP. But you noticed her the most in Monday zeriod house meetings, when the artificial grass glimmered with dew and the syrupy dawn light made the whole world seem like a Hollywood coming-of-age movie. You watched her toss her braids over her shoulder, wipe the pearls of sweat off her flushed face. Her red, red shirt rode up as she stretched, revealing a sliver of pale flesh above the waistband of her shorts–

It took until then for her to notice you Noticing. Her eyes flickered over to you, she winked, and blew a kiss. 

You felt as if you’d walked out onto the PIE and been hit by a truck. It was a wonder every single smoke alarm in the school didn’t go off right that moment–a cacophony of ringing like firecrackers all strung up, exploding pop-pop-pop from the foyer to the science block to the hostel. It swallowed every other sound, every other thought. Then she turned away, a grin still lingering on the corners of her lips.

–

During one of your lunch breaks, Camilla pulled you out of class. She had to ask you something about your PW survey, she said. As far as you were aware, you weren't in the same PW group. You knew this. She knew this. The entirety of 1T26 knew this, too, so you headed down to one of the wooden picnic tables underneath Block D, the one tucked beneath the staircase next to St Pat’s room. Both of you hovered awkwardly around the bench for a moment, doing the calculations in your head–how close to sit? What to say? You shifted from foot to foot.

All of a sudden, Camilla slammed her hand down on the table. You jumped. “Walao eh. I legit can’t do this anymore. Is this a Thing? Are we having a Thing?”

You swallowed, eyes darting.

“Make up your mind, sia.” She rolled her eyes, laughing under her breath. “St. Francis boys, I swear.”

“No, wait, yes–” The words spilled, embarrassingly and pitifully, out of your mouth. You feared you were not beating the all-boys’ school stereotypes that day. “I mean, I did, but, um–” Just stop, your brain chanted. What're you saying? You're only making it worse. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself.

“So that’s a yes,” Camilla said, and surged forward to shut you up herself.

–

The next thing you knew, you were stumbling into the stairwell together, the door banging noisily shut behind you. “Why–” Camilla started, and you said, “Nobody ever uses Staircase 6. Now come on.” You pushed her up against the curved concrete wall, not caring that the low ceiling scraped against your head. There was that wild, exhilarated look on her face again, like she still couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. Beautiful, even in the dull grey light. Her nails dug crescents into your skin. 

The air was all heat, sweat, too much cherry blossom perfume. You worked at your tie–quicker than you’d ever been able to in all your years of schooling–as she undid the buttons on her uniform shirt, revealing the freckles that dusted her pale shoulders like so many stars. As you unbuckled her bra in one quick motion, she gasped, then giggled. “Damn, Yeoh. You’re good at this. Is there anyone you haven’t told me about?” 

In between kisses, you came up for air. You could've made a joke about not having many opportunities to practise in St Francis, but the real truth was that your desperation shocked even yourself– this wasn’t the careful boy that your pastors, parents, teachers, knew. Your heart threatened to burst from your chest like the bullet from a gun. For the first time in sixteen years, it felt– really felt– like you were fully alive.

“Just you, Cam.” You dipped back down. “Only you.”

ii. the yew tree

He's ta'en his sister down to his father's deer park

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

With his yew-tree bow and arrow slung fast across his back

And they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

You made close acquaintances with every dark corner of the school. When June came, you merely shifted your meeting points closer to home– behind heartland malls in Tampines or in the nooks and crannies of Cam’s sprawling landed estate along Cluny Road. Neither of you were sure, yet, if you were doing it Right– things like bubble tea dates, strolls in Botanics, or mugging in NLB (god, you should have been mugging, mid-years were in a week and neither of you had cracked a book). But if it wasn’t capital R Right, why did it feel like it was? You thought you had developed a case of myopia–Cam in focus, everything else blurred.

All that to say: the holidays were closer to ending than beginning when you and Cam found yourselves in an overgrown grassy patch tucked somewhere in between a storm drain and the wrought-iron back gate of some minister’s landed property. It had sounded a lot more romantic in theory, but the cloudless sky was the same powder-blue as your school uniforms, and the sun beat down like it had a personal vendetta against you. There was nothing much for shade except for a single banana tree, which you lay crumpled under, sweat-sheened and reddened. The last of the endorphins were beginning to wear off.

Cam’s ringtone cut through the air, a chiptune rendition of some Green Day song.  She sighed, then propped herself up on one elbow as she picked up her phone. Her hair was loose, cascading down her back like smooth dark water. You fought the urge to run your hands through it.

“Ba!” she chirped. The cheer didn’t show on her face. “Ba, of course I'm still at the library.  I’m with Lucia. Yes, Ba, I’m sure. Don’t call her, can?” She flinched as though she’d been slapped– a familiar, instinctual tic. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll study hard, I promise. Byebye.” 

She hung up and sighed, leaning backwards. “I think I’ll need to go soon.”

“Soon,” you promised. You were lying flat on the warm grass, arms crossed over your chest like you were about to be lowered into the grave. 

“Soon,” Cam repeated. “Fuck, I hate that we have to sneak around like this, sia. I keep thinking that he’s going to jump out at me from any corner, that any random passerby can tell I’m not where I’m supposed to be. It’s like this whole island has eyes, and maybe it does.” As she lay back down beside you on the grass, her oversized t-shirt–Camp Veritas Counsellor 2007–drooped down to reveal the blades of her shoulder, the ones you’d kissed just moments ago. Her voice lowered. “You know ah, the moment we get our A-Levels back, I’m getting out of this city. Australia, London, LA, anywhere. There’s nothing here for me.”

“No leh.” She can’t say that, you thought, pettily, awfully. She had a mansion and a scholarship and a real iPhone. She had the freedom to just leave. To go somewhere without worrying about the money. You had– what? Parents on the edge of divorce and a bankrupt family business? So much for inheritance. So much for a glorious kingdom. Then you had banished the thought from your head. “You have me.”

“I guess I do.” There was a pause. Then she asked, quick and soft and desperate: “Hey, if I asked you to do something, you’d do it, right?”

You reached over, squeezing Cam’s hand tight in yours. The leaves of the banana tree shivered. “I’d do anything for you,” you told her, and it was true. It was really true.

–

Your grades wobbled, then declined, then plummeted, and you found, to your surprise, that you couldn’t care less. You’d made a lot of bad decisions in your life. Try as you might, you couldn’t count Cam among them.

This, then, might have been why you were lying on your bedroom floor, squinting at your Nokia at four AM on a Monday morning. An empty can rolled lazily from your hand, on an epic journey across the glossy faux-marble floor. The house, for once, was still. Even your parents’ screams had petered off about an hour ago. The silver light from the HDB corridor fell through your windows in slits, providing just enough light for you to see the tiny phone screen. With the phone’s small buttons and your clumsy fingers, it took a long time for you to dial the number, but none at all for her to pick up. 

“Cam,” you whispered, “Want to see you.”

“Jesus, Yeoh, it’s a school night.” Her voice was gorgeous like this, low and blurred. She only ever used this voice with you: when her raw-bitten lips were pressed against your chest, your ear, your– You shifted. It didn’t help. 

“Cam, Cam, Camilla.” Her name rolled off your tongue like a litany, sharp and needy. “Can talk a while or not?”

“Are you drunk again?” she teased you. On the other end, her sheets rustled as she sat up.  Although you hadn’t ever been in her house before, you could reconstruct it well enough from the blurry webcam pictures she’d sent you: piles of assessment books, porcelain cross, ceiling fan. And she– beautiful, beautiful, feet kicked up against her headboard, black hair spilling over the flowery sheets, the smile evident in her voice. “Help lah. How–”

“Miss you,” you murmured, by way of an answer.

“I miss you too.” 

“Want to meet you. Want to talk to you.” Then, because you were three cans of beer deep and loved making (aforementioned) bad decisions, you charged on: “You and I, we never talk.”

“I know we haven’t met in a while. It’s not my fault I was sick–” Her voice wavered a little, then bounced back to its chirpy cadence. “But we talk all the time, though. We literally talked in class yesterday. I’m talking to you now.” Cam laughed. Her laugh still sounded to you like the first day of the month– every church across the island breaking into bellsong, light and birdlike in the hot blue air. It was cliché, you knew. You didn’t care. Perhaps you were in too deep to care.

“No,” you insisted, but you didn’t really know what you were saying, or why you were saying it at all. “We don’t.”

“We don’t,” she said, then fell silent.

The funny thing about the two of you was this: Over the past few months, you had seen each other stripped bare, worn to the bone with want, more times than you could count. But the both of you knew, all right, that there were things that you couldn’t– that you didn’t say. Things that were secret even to yourselves. The scars on your forearm, the bruises on hers, the way she looked at you when she thought your mind was elsewhere. Those three words, weightier than any false promise you’d whispered against each other’s skin.

“Staircase. Tomorrow. I need to tell you something.”

–

That night, you dreamt of flying.

You weren’t a bird, weren’t yourself– just bodiless, incorporeal, sweeping through the hallways of the college like a ghost. You phased through the auditorium doors to see the loose ceiling tile, the one that had been hanging over your heads like a guillotine all term, topple to the ground in one fantastic crash, sending students fleeing out the doors and into the foyer. You fled with them, but the ceiling fan in the foyer was spinning just a bit too hard, just a bit too fast, and the students screeched to a halt just in time to catch it falling, an angel with clipped wings. It broke in two over the staircase railing, knocking down the tables and the notice boards, pulling down the ceiling with it. Then the chapel was the next to go, the shattering stained glass catching the light in a thousand colours. As you raced up the corridors, the destruction raced up, up, up, alongside you, past the staff room and canteen to the lecture halls, the classroom blocks, the PAC, every single building in the college folding in on itself like so much wet paper. Block J detached itself cleanly from its precarious perch, tipping head-over-heels into the field. You couldn't hear a thing, but you could imagine what it sounded like: the earth itself breaking, rapture the other way around. 

Then you crossed the lower quadrangle, where two little blobs of baby blue lay pressed against each other’s bodies. Even without descending, you already knew who they were. It was strange to watch yourself like a movie. When you were younger, you'd thought that this was how God saw the world, top-down, like a player peering at a chessboard. When you’d failed an exam for the first time, you'd cowered under a table-cloth to escape His wrath. You’d stopped believing in a lot of things as you grew up, but you could never kick that instinct to flee, that inescapable, intrinsic fear that the presence of God really was everywhere: under a table, in a school, in every splitting cell.

The boy on the ground turned his face towards the girl, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. She smiled infuriatingly, endearingly, back at him.

The school came down on them.

–

Most of the morning was taken up by this awful college event that you’d totally forgotten was happening, all cheering and sweat and thirty-eight degree heat. It was only when the day was coming to a close, then, that Cam and you could sneak away past the computer labs and guitar room into Staircase 6. As you entered, Cam pulled out something from the pocket of her sweater–an admin key–and latched the door behind her with a deliberate click. You blinked. “How’d you get that?” 

Cam didn’t say anything, just tucked the key in the pocket of her oversized school hoodie. There was something strange and tense about her, stranger and tenser than she had been all term. She walked up to Level 4, where the sky through the grilled window cut long slices of light onto the concrete floor, and sat down on the top step. You sat down next to her. 

She breathed, imperceptibly, in and out, looking straight ahead. The question rushed out in a gasp.

“You told me you’d do anything for me, right? I need you to kill.”

iii. the arrow

And when he has heard her give a loud cry,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

A silver arrow from his bow he suddenly let fly.

And she’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

-

WONG CHIEN PING 

The New Paper, 1998

WONG: To me, family– family always comes first. My kids always come first. You know ah, I’ve got five children. Four boys, one girl. 

INTERVIEWER: Wow.

WONG: [Laughter.] Can be a handful at times, lah, but what can you do? As I was saying, right, when I look at my kids, I’m thinking about everything they could be. Lawyers, doctors, maybe even MPs like me. [Laughter.] And I think about how Singapore’ll change in ten years, fifty years, a hundred years. My youngest, Camilla, she’s going to graduate from university in the 2010’s. In a new century. What’s Singapore going to look like then?

INTERVIEWER: Mhm. 

WONG: I want to make Singapore a place where my kids can grow up safely. Where they can have a future. 

-

For a moment, all you could do was laugh. Then you stopped, of course, but the echo lingered. “Cam?”

Without meeting your eyes, she lifted up her sweater. The first thing you’d thought was that she’d forgotten to bring her house shirt– she was still in uniform. Then you realised that her shirt was unbuttoned at the bottom, and her skirt was unlatched, and there was a solid, unmistakable, swell to her stomach.

The world tilted on its axis. There was no way this was happening. This was a really terrible prank. She’d stolen a prosthetic from Drama. It had to be something, something other than this, something other than a child– You made an inelegant noise, some spluttered form of protest. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” Cam agreed, unhappily.

You instinctively reached out to touch her bump, like you’d seen in the soapy Mediacorp dramas Ma always watched. You didn’t feel anything. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of parental instinct singing to you; love, love, love all through the water and the flesh and the blood? 

“Didn’t you listen in Bio? You can’t feel the heartbeat yet. Not for a while, but not for long, either,” she said. “Not until I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what else to say. You pulled her into your arms, and she pressed herself against you, body against body. Like stragglers hiding from the cold, except it was thirty-five degrees outside, the air the same dull dead warmth that school air always was. She turned her face away, but you could still see her eyes go glossy, hear her take those shallow breaths. "I'm so sorry."

You couldn't begin to imagine what she was feeling, how much she'd lost in that instant when she knew she was carrying a life that wasn't hers: the scholarship, the law school, the clear American sky she'd never see. The future rushed out before you, a landscape vast and desolate, and you found yourself unable to picture it except for your mother's face, crumpling in on itself, her world imploded in a single moment. Thinking: all you had to do was study hard. We gave everything for you, pinned every hope on you, and this is what we get? Saying: stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy.

You don’t know how you say what you say next, but you do. “So. You want to- to kill it?” It, it, it. Still an it. 

Cam laughs wetly. “Almost there. Kill–” the pronoun trips off her tongue–  “me.”

-

ST CECILIA’S JUNIOR COLLEGE

CAMERA 235

12:28:03

YEOH shoots to his feet. WONG does too.

YEOH: You can’t just say that–

WONG: Just shut up for a moment and let me explain, can?

YEOH shuts up.

WONG [with a wince]: Sorry. But you know my father lah. You know how he is. He’ll have my head.

YEOH: What’s the worst he can do ah? Pack you off to some boarding school overseas?

WONG takes a sharp breath.

WONG: It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that he’s worked his whole life for this position. If he ever finds out what we’ve done, his career jialat liao, just like that. Every single day for the rest of my life he’ll look at me and only see a disappointment of a daughter, a stain on the family name. I snuck around and I lied to his face and I bribed my friends for alibis but at least for seventeen years he didn’t know better. He called me his princess, his golden girl, and he meant it. Now all of that’s gone. Or will be gone, I guess. I don’t know how I’d live without that.

YEOH: He doesn’t need to know. You understand that, right? There are ways to get rid of it, I mean, there has to be some way–

WONG: That’s the fucking problem!

WONG turns away, stifling a sob.

WONG: Before I formed you in the womb I knew you–

YEOH [instinctively]: And before you were born I consecrated you. 

WONG: This is our child, Yeoh. This is a human life. 

YEOH: Better any other life than yours.

A long pause. 

WONG [overlapping]: You can’t mean that.

YEOH [overlapping]: I can. I do.

YEOH ascends one step. YEOH stares at WONG as if he’s daring her to say something, until WONG begins to cry. YEOH freezes for a split-second. He reaches for WONG, whispers something inaudible in her ear. WONG reaches up and kisses him in response. After a while, WONG extricates herself with an expression that seems almost like a smile. She walks over to the railing and leans against it. YEOH follows her.

WONG: I’ve always told myself I want to be a good person, but maybe the real truth is that I didn’t want my dad to figure out otherwise. Maybe all of that hiding was for nothing. Maybe it was only a matter of time before he found out who I really was, deep down: rotten. Impure. That woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess. 

WONG: And, sure, I can sneak away to a clinic, God knows we can afford it, I can do whatever it is girls do in movies with the clothes hanger or the back alley. But if my life after this is all an act– what’s the point, if I already know where I’m going when I go? I’m tired of keeping secrets, trying so hard to keep this part of my life from him– when one day I’ll slip again, I know it, and the whole house of cards is going to come crashing down. If I die now, all my sins are going to die with me. He’d be happy, and I’d be loved, and you– 

WONG [almost envious]: You’d never understand.

YEOH tilts his head downwards, fringe falling over his eyes. He starts to say something, then stops.

YEOH: I do understand.

-

Like so many other people you knew, you never meant to go to St Cecilia’s. Everyone said you could make Temasek, maybe Victoria. Tampines at the very least. And you'd believed it, too, until you didn't anymore, until the college you were going to became the least of your worries. 

When did you stop believing you’d ever have a future? It wasn’t a single moment so much as it was a series of them: stepping over the yellow line when waiting for the train, trying to find footholds in the railing of every overhead bridge, your eyes always flicking to every exit you could take. The words you said under your breath in prayers weren’t Our Father who art in heaven but a litany only you knew: I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to keep going. I can leave any time I want. For as long as you remembered, you’d already been halfway gone. 

It was a comforting hypothetical, until it wasn’t, and suddenly you found yourself on the bathroom floor at three in the morning, a week before prelims. The cool white light bounced off the tiles, the mirror-cabinet above the sink hung ajar like it was beckoning you, and you were so, so exhausted. Why were you trying so hard? What were you even studying for? No matter what college you went to, the future would always be blurry and grey. Test after test after test, then onto– what, exactly? You’d never been able to imagine yourself past sixteen. You’d never be able to imagine yourself more than half-alive.

You’d tell the psychiatrist later that you didn’t remember the rest of the night, but that wasn’t true. You remembered the pills. You remembered the blinding, fluorescent pain– and through the pain, your father’s face, your mother’s voice. 911 on the cordless telephone. The ambulance. Changi Hospital. When you’d finally woken, there was a split-second where all you could see was white, and all that came to you was a rush of relief– until the white coalesced into white walls and white sheets and a ceiling spotted with air-conditioning vents, and you could almost laugh at yourself for expecting anything different. If you’d succeeded, anyway, it wouldn’t have been white.

So you failed both at dying and at Chemistry. That was fine. You took the two points off for affiliation.  You took the 5AM bus. You took the desk at the corner of 1T26. That was fine too.  You swore you didn't care about any of it, and you didn’t, you didn’t. Then Cam happened, and suddenly you did.

But you couldn’t shake the memory of that night in the hospital, your parents whispering next to your bed when they thought you were asleep. For once in their life, they weren’t at each other's throats. What’s wrong with him?  your father demanded in Chinese, betrayal running like cracks through his voice. I don’t understand why he would do this to me. In response, your mother only sighed. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy.

-

The story came uneasily to you, like writing an exam for a subject that you hadn’t touched in months. Once you were done, Cam turned to you. If it was anyone else, they would’ve said something benign, something untrue, like, I’m sorry or I’m glad you didn’t die. Instead, because this was the Cam you’d always known, she asked, “How much did it hurt?”

You thought about the answer for a long while. Then you said, “If you do it right, only for a moment.”

She laughed, then, throwing her head back with the force of it. For a brief, blasphemous second, you’d never seen anyone so beautiful: fair as the moon, clear as the sun, terrible as an army all set in battle array. It was the kind of beauty wars were fought over, the kind any man would get on his knees for– to be knighted, to adore. And she’d chosen you (you of all people!) The fact made you dizzy with its weight.

“So.” Her voice brought you back to reality. It was casual as anything, like she was discussing essay outlines or Physics solutions instead of– whatever this was. “I was thinking about the stairs, right? If you pushed me, hard enough, it’d look like an accident…”

Below you, the concrete staircase looped in on itself, down, down, down. Tall, yes, but only three stories, not enough to kill. Not if you wanted to be sure. When you told her as much, she frowned, swearing in Chinese under her breath. The two of you bounced around a few more ideas, but none of them seemed to stick. You fell silent, tapping out meaningless rhythms on the rails, as you considered what you’d been dancing around since she’d asked you to kill. A competition-grade air pistol, a shot at just the right angle– it’d be, well, if not easy, at least simple. Less up to the fates. 

There was only one problem with that plan– it’d no longer be an accident. There’d be police, lawyers, fuck, maybe even journalists. Your juniors would whisper about it for camps and camps to come. You couldn’t feign innocence with a shotgun, couldn’t frame the act of pulling the trigger as anything but what it was.  

So, fine, they’d hate you. They’d shred all your certificates, put your photos face-down, pretend they’d never had a son. So what? Boy hung from his bedroom fan, boy hung from the prison beam. Whatever formula you used, the result was still the same: you’d be gone, and they’d be free. Besides, there wasn’t any way St. Cecilia's reputation could possibly be worse than it already was.

“I think–” you started, suddenly, “I might have a solution.”

iv. the grave

And he has dug a grave both long and deep,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

He has buried his sister with their babe all at her feet.

And they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

INTERVIEWER: You didn’t notice the keys were gone meh? I thought you were the captain.

THOMAS: The captain doesn’t carry the keys, sir. Um, he was the armourer, sir, he’s always had them. Since the beginning of the year. 

INTERVIEWER: So you weren’t aware that Yeoh and Wong entered the armoury at 12.39 PM and retrieved a [pages ruffling] .25-calibre Baikal air pistol. 

THOMAS: Of course the alarm went off, lah. To notify the teacher-in-charge. But he told Miss Judith he forgot his water bottle inside, and she was in a hurry anyway–

INTERVIEWER: She believed him?

THOMAS: Miss Judith’s always had a soft spot for him, sir. And we all trusted him. That’s why we made him the armourer. Of course he was quiet, um, but in a calm, reliable sort of way. Out of all of us we thought he’d be the last person to do what he did. [laughter] I trusted him– oh god– 

INTERVIEWER: Calm down, boy.

THOMAS: Sorry, sorry.

INTERVIEWER: Can continue or not?

THOMAS: Okay. Can. Go on.

-

Laughing the loud and triumphant laugh of the already dead, you and Cam crashed back into the staircase landing like you’d done so many times before. How many giggling, short-lived couples had this place borne witness to? The seniors who’d winked and nudged you in its direction must’ve learnt it from their seniors, who’d learnt it from their seniors in turn– back and back it went, a story in two-year cycles, mutating each time it was told. A haunting, a myth, a folk song.

Cam, leaning back against the wall, ran her hands along the sleek pistol. She looked, still, beautiful: even after the run, after the tears, despite the baby. If you hadn’t seen her before, you couldn’t have guessed that she was the kind of girl who would ever cry. “It’s like I’m a spy.”

“I mean, we kind of are, right? People are going to start getting suspicious soon. We should do this quickly.”  You shot a furtive glance through the window in the door. The corridor, as always, was dark– the lightbulb had been busted for a long, long time. 

“Soon. Won’t take long, right? Just–” She aimed the gun at her temple, mimed pulling the trigger with a grin. Miss Judith had trained you well– your first instinct was one of sheer panic, of tripping over your own feet in your haste to rip it from her hands– but you didn’t do any of that. 

Instead you only swallowed, shifted. “Just like that I don’t think is strong enough. It’s not real ah. Can’t do that much damage. Um, can I–”

Downstairs, someone shouted. Cam shoved the gun in her hoodie pocket. You stopped breathing. Something clunky was being dragged across the floor, chatter following in its wake. But no one had opened the door yet, so when the clamour finally died down, Cam removed the gun from her hoodie and passed it to you. 

In your hands, the pistol was cool, familiar, deadly in a way it had never been before. It reminded you that despite any pretences to precision or skill or patience, this sport was, at its roots, a killing sport– drawing blood and blood and blood again. 

You’d only been a shooter for a few months. You'd always been a chess club kid in secondary school, and in St Cecilia, you’d even applied for Strat Games before you walked into the interview, saw an old classmate, and walked right back out.  At least shooting was a singular sport. No emotions involved, no one to fool, no one to ask you what happened.

About a week or two past orientation, you’d hit bullseye for the first time.  You didn’t notice, at first, still reeling from the ricochet, until Greg shouted and the club gathered round and you saw that tiny wound on that tiny target, fifty whole metres away. In another few weeks, it’d become routine, but you never forgot that first time: the breath held, the trigger pulled, the bullet sailing through the air. The gun like an extension of yourself.

She must’ve sensed something had shifted, because she hurried out, “If you don’t want to do this, just say, OK? If you really want, we can– I don’t know, figure something out.”

You’d do anything for me, right? 

Okay, so maybe you were helping her because you knew what it was like to be so tired that you wanted nothing more than to be gone. You knew what it was like to fail– your mother’s eyes avoiding yours, the flat stinking with shame, cut fruits slid under your door like an apology– and you knew, you knew, out of all the people in the world she didn’t deserve it.

But maybe you were helping her because you’d never known anyone who could go to their grave with a smile quite like her, brilliant and foolish and brave. It was your hand brushing hers under the desk and her laughing with her head thrown back and the two of you sharing earphones on the bus. It was the fact that in life or death, you’d never wanted anyone but her. 

So, fine. The moment you’d opened your eyes in a hospital bed, you couldn’t find it in you to care about Heaven or Hell or anything in-between, couldn’t care about a God who’d turned his back to you as you were bleeding out. But even the staunchest of atheists could admit that it was nice to believe that you’d been brought back for a reason; that more than any grade you’d ever gotten or any target you’d ever hit, the greatest achievement of your time in college– okay, your entire short and sorry life– was this: to love her, to kill her, to be loved, impossibly, in return.

You kissed her like it was an answer. Maybe it was. You’d never know.

–

Just like you’d predicted, it wasn’t easy, but it was at least simple:

The muzzle dimpling her button-down shirt. Her heart beneath the gun, frantic and wild. Her smile– smug, inscrutable, like she was getting away with some great and treacherous heist, like she’d stolen something you’d never notice missing until it was too late. Coloured-in Converse perched on the edge of the top step.

A moment to aim. Less to fire.

A crack. A body arching backwards, falling, falling, falling. A body against concrete. A body with its neck all wrong– no, that wasn’t right. Two bodies. One body. But what was the difference, really?

Somewhere, someone was singing.

–

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

There was a boy at the edge of the canteen, that isolated corner where the cafe used to be before it went bankrupt and left neon-yellow wreckage in its wake. I could just barely make him out through the other kids who’d swarmed like moths around the speakers we’d looted from the grandstand, a do-it-yourself rave all our own. We were seventeen and free from Promos and knew every word to every song on the radio and there was nothing in this world to worry about, nothing at all.

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town

My voice faltered as I tried to peer over the heads, earning myself a poke in the ribs from Joshua from 28. The boy was tall, in uniform–on the one day we were allowed to wear house shirts? He’d be sweltering hot. He stared off at something I couldn’t see, collapsing on a bench– and the moment I saw the fringe, I knew who you were.

“Xavier!” 

I painfully extracted myself from the knot of students, making my way over to you. You didn’t seem to notice me, didn’t seem to care. There was something red on your face, probably some failed attempt at Go SC! It seemed like the sports leaders had gotten to you. Funny. I’d never thought you were the type. 

You turned to me. 

“Xavier?”

I broke into a run.

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Your hands were shaking, your eyes wet.  There was red on your shirt, red on the corner of your lips. Shit, there was so much of it. “Are you hurt?” My brain was going at thirty miles a second. “What happened? Did you– are you–”

“I’m fine. I just–” You broke off. Slowly and carefully, like you were explaining something to a very small child, you forced out two more words: “--lost something.” 

I cast desperate glances around the canteen. There was something wrong here, something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, like standing on the edge of a cliff with a sea below you. “It’s OK, bro,” I muttered out, stupidly, awkwardly, “You’ll get it back, whatever it is. Um. You need me check with the GO? Call teacher?”

Through the thin walls, a scream rang out. The singing died a quick, violent death, but the music, still, played on.

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

“No,” you said. “No need.”

It's a love story, baby, just say yes.

-

After everything– after the police, after the trial, after the drop– Wong’s father swept in and gave half of St Cecilia’s a dizzyingly long contract that boiled down to Don’t tell a soul this happened or I’ll kill you myself. Of course I’d signed it. What else could I have done?

In the years to come, I’d want to tell you about so many things: The times we’d instinctively turn in our seats to ask you about homework or classes or anything at all. The two empty desks we’d dodged for the rest of the year, even after we switched classrooms, even after they struck out your names from the class list— as if long before that October afternoon, you were already gone. The shiny, upgraded surveillance system, a threat, an eulogy, as much acknowledgement as they’d ever give you. 

Now, though, I want to tell you about the staircase.

When I stepped back into St Cecilia’s for the first time in ten years, so much of it remained the same. The same old coat of paint, the same wobbly tables, the same starched blue uniform. The only thing that’s changed is the kids– how young they seem now, how they call me Mr Thomas when I’m listening and ‘cher when they think I’m not. In the spaces between classes, when the halls are full of chatter, I’ll overhear snippets of their conversation: I’m yellowslipping for Taylor tickets or Walao, my stats really CMI, like this how can pass or Wah, are you going to take her to Staircase 6? That last one’ll be invariably followed by a wink, a nudge, and loud, boisterous laughter, the kind that only teenage boys can summon up. I can’t blame them much for it. Weren’t we once seventeen too?

The staircase isn’t particularly hard to avoid. For the kids, it’s more of a novelty than anything– a quick selfie at the door during Orientation, then it’s out of their minds for the rest of the year, too far from the classrooms to be of any use. Soon enough, though, exam season rolled around, and I was on my first night study shift of the year. I didn’t have to do much– just make sure nobody escaped the well-lit confines of the library, which was just as crowded and chilly as I’d remembered it. But the campus seemed different after dusk, every flickering light a blinking eye, and I felt myself being led down the concrete corridors, past the office and the hall and the lockers, past the bulb they’d never fixed, and I unlocked the door.

It looked, obviously, like any other staircase in the school. The floor was grey, the walls white. I went up to the top floor and to the railing, the security camera swivelling as I walked. Over the railing, the stairs went down, down, down. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find any part of it that suggested your presence. No pale figure, no blur of light. I felt, suddenly, foolish– what answer was I seeking? Even if you’d lingered, even if you’d somehow escaped where I’d most feared you were, this was the last place you’d want to stay. 

Maybe I would never really understand why you did what you did. But I’d known you, even still, and so I could say this with certainty– if there was any justice in this world, you weren’t here. You were somewhere edgy kids couldn’t gawk and giggle at you, somewhere the camera couldn’t find you. Somewhere only you knew.

An engine growled beyond the gates. Sweet and heavy in the air, the scent of flowers lingered. 

I closed my eyes.

-

And when he has come to his father’s own hall, 

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

There was music and dancing, there were minstrels and all.

And he’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

O the ladies, they asked him, “What makes you in such pain?”

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

“I’ve lost a sheath and knife I will never find again

And I’ll never go down to the broom anymore.”

“All the ships of your father’s a-sailing on the sea

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

Can bring as good a sheath and knife unto thee.”

But they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

“All the ships of my father’s a-sailing on the sea

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

Can never ever bring such a sheath and knife to me

For we’ll never go down to the broom anymore.”

[addc10]

Something About Every Player the USMNT is Bringing to the World Cup

Matt Turner: definitely our starter for the upcoming World Cup. One of the best in terms of shot-stopping. 100% save percentage right now for Arsenal in the Europa League. Well deserved start.

Ethan Horvath: a fantastic back up for the USMNT. His save in the Nations League final against Mexico cemented him as a legend. Provides reliability if we are forced to turn to him.

Sean Johnson: a veteran presence for the national team, which is never a bad thing to have at the World Cup. Has been quite good for NYCFC this season and has been a part of a system that plays out of the back.

Cameron Carter-Vickers: has been one of, if not the best, defender in the Scottish Premier League this season for Celtic. Absolutely deserving of his place and should be looked to as a starter in the back.

Tim Ream: a surprise inclusion for some USMNT followers, but certainly not undeserved. With Brooks and Richards out, Ream will be the best central defender on this roster. His age of 34 will both help and hinder his minutes, but expect him to be a starter at some point during the group stages.

Walker Zimmerman: currently playing for Nashville SC, he has consistently improved under club and country. A presence in both the air and on the ground, he makes a reliable back up for this roster.

Aaron Long: easily the most controversial inclusion for the defenders, ahead of other prospects like McKenzie or injured Richards and out-of-favor Brooks. But Long has played his career in systems built around pressing and while his current form might leave him out of the starting line up, he has been a staple of this team throughout qualifying.

Sergiño Dest: incredible talent that has at least been getting more consistent minutes since his move to Milan this past summer. A threat going forward, Dest’s chemistry with our starting wingers cannot be understated. Expect him to start at this World Cup.

Antonee Robinson: likely the USMNT’s most important defender due to his impact on both ends of the pitch. His speed is a great weapon on defense and he has been a mainstay at left-back for Fulham for several years.

Joe Scally: another absolute deserved inclusion. A 19-year old playing every game for Borussia Monchengladbach in the Bundesliga. Gladbach’s coach even praised him as their “player of the season” last year. Consistently overlooked in Europe, don’t be surprised if he gets the start over Dest.

DeAndre Yedlin: it cannot be understated how important his presence in the locker room will be. The only player on the roster who has been to a previous Word Cup. An electric youngster in 2014, he will be looked at as a level-headed leader in 2022.

Shaq Moore: the inclusion that surprised me the most, Moore had struggled in La Liga to find consistent minutes, but since moving to Nashville SC, he has been a top performer in the MLS. A sold back up for this roster.

Brenden Aaronson: an absolute revelation of a player this year at Leeds. The biggest critique from club fans has been that the youngster occasionally tries too hard. An elite presser, Aaronson is best at playing the “pass before the pass” and an excellent creator of goal scoring chances.

Tyler Adams: a similar stand out for Leeds, Adams has been looking like one of the best defensive midfielders in Europe. Who I want to see wearing the USMNT captain armband, Adams is a leader on and off the pitch. Superb reader of the game.

Yunus Musah: a 19-year-old starter in La Liga, Musah has been instrumental to the USMNT’s game play. When Musah is not on the pitch, the team suffers. A true ball carrier, Musah is often where the USMNT’s attacks start.

Luca De La Torre: although questionable due to recent injury, USMNT fans let out a collective sigh of relief upon seeing De La Torre’s name. An essential back up for McKennie, De La Torre has decisively earned his spot on this roster.

Kellyn Acosta: going from Europe-Bound youngster to being dropped from the National Team and traded is tough to come back from and lesser players may have crumbled. But Acosta boards the flight to Qatar an MLS Cup Champion (with a stunning opening goal) and a well earned spot on the roster.

Weston McKennie: arguably one of the best players the US has ever produced, McKennie is a mainstay in Juventus’s midfield and often the only positive about many of their games. A personality that you need in your locker rooms and on the field, McKennie will look to be a stand-out performer at this Word Cup.

Christian Roldan: another controversial inclusion, but Roldan’s presence and tactical mindset can only benefit the US. While not expecting much playing time, Roldan is a coach in the making and his attitude will be instrumental in leading this young squad.

Christian Pulisic: heralded as the greatest USMNT player, Pulisic will be looking to prove himself at the World Cup. But to most USMNT fans, he long since has. A leader in the team, his ability and skill will be imperative for US success.

Giovanni Reyna: for a while, it was doubtful Reyna could stay healthy enough to make this roster, and while it is still unlikely he will play a full 90 this tournament, Reyna is the difference maker you need at the World Cup. It may be controversial to say, but the most talented player on this roster.

Timothy Weah: a player with the potential to be our most dangerous player during any given game, a hard worker on and off the ball. Weah has the potential to change a game when he comes on the field and is often overlooked by the fan base.

Josh Sargent: a story of perseverance. Looking like one of our best strikers in the youth leagues, Sargent struggled in bad teams under bad management and went through a downturn in form that ended him in the Championship where he become a formidable player once again.

Jordan Morris: another controversial inclusion. Once on the precipice of a move to Europe, Morris found himself instead fighting back from a gruesome injury. To see him make a World Cup roster is a heartening. With tough completion ahead of him, it is unlikely he will see much of the field, but Morris is always a hard worker during his minutes.

Haji Wright: a surprise inclusion in this roster, Wright has just 3 caps for the USMNT, where he scored only 1 goal. However, Wright has found form this season in the Turkish League, being one of the top strikers, and his like-for-like replacement for Ferreira puts him ahead of others who were fighting for this position.

Jesus Ferreira: his work rate off the ball truly cemented his place on this roster. While it is a toss up with Sargent over who starts, you’re likely to see Ferreira at the 9 in most of the games. While he sometimes occupies space in which our wingers like to develop, he is a worthy inclusion for work both on and off the ball.