#shitty suitcase record player

[rudy-redd]

Is anycreature here an audiophile and/or have enough opinions on record players? Like, which one i should buy?

[leonardcohenofficial]

vinyl + turntable basic info / general tips

while i am by no means a real audiophile or vinyl expert here are some tips that have worked for me over my almost two decades of collecting!

turntables + speakers

do not buy suitcase players. i cannot overstate this enough. do not buy suitcase players. the all-in-one players are generally cheaper, but there isn't enough support from the platter because they are smaller than 12 inch LPs. this can lead to shitty sound quality, the needle can fall out of the groove, and you can actually break your records. save up and pay a little more and get a proper turntable

there is a lot of debate about belt vs. direct drive turntables (belt drive turntables use a belt to spin the turntable while direct drive turntables have the motor directly under the platter) and which is better. very generally speaking if you want better sound quality, belt drive is the way to go; if you want a player that's a little easier to use that's also a little more durable, direct drive is a better option (most DJ turntables are also direct drive, as a side note)

i currently have three turntables and they are all audio-technica, which is a well respected brand (especially for beginners)—i have an AT-LP60X ($149) which is a belt driven player, as well as two AT-LP120XUSB ($349 each) which i use for practicing DJing/selecting. i also have a stanton M.203 mixer (insane to me that it's listed for $350 on amazon, i paid eighty bucks for mine on ebay), audio-technica ATH-M20x headphones (they were a gift but are listed for $49 on amazon) and a set of edifier R1280DB bluetooth speakers ($149). the speakers are hooked up directly into my mixer, but because both the speakers and the AT-LP60X are bluetooth, i can also play records on that turntable too

change your needle! general rule of thumb is to replace your needle every thousand hours of listening; for the average person if you change it once a year you should be good, i'm on the cautious side and change them every six months

i really like my setup; it's on the cheaper side when it comes to "grownup" gear but true audiophiles would probably scoff at my basics. regardless of what you end up getting, a decent turntable that doesn't have the speakers built in that fits within your budget and a good set of speaker or headphones is all you need

buying records

any time that you can, i recommend buying vinyl directly from the artist! whether it's through bandcamp their website or at a show i think it's better to buy direct when you can (and often times it's cheaper than buying through a third party)

when you can, buy local. not only is it good to support independently owned shops, developing a relationship with local music people is great and if they're good they'll start to know you/your tastes. it also allows you to get good at crate digging, because you never know what you're going to find in a dollar section

utilize listening stations if the store has them! people can be pretty fast and loose with grading used records, so it's better to listen to it and see if the audio quality corresponds with the price (i don't always buy mint/nearly mint records and can tolerate a fair amount of noise but not if i'm being ripped off lmfao)

look things up on discogs to see if you're getting ripped off. not only is discogs great for keeping track of your collection (also you can friend me here!), the online marketplace is great for checking average sale prices for a given release. also handy for seeing how rare a release is!

buying records on discogs can be a crapshoot, ebay even more so. read seller's reviews; if there's feedback that they generally grade conservatively, that's a good thing

i have such a large collection that maintaining a record of what i have is really necessary; discogs is really fantastic for this. you can even scan barcodes on specific releases to find them through the discogs app! it's super handy for me as sometimes i forget that i have certain albums already and end up buying multiple copies and having to get rid of them (i need to get better at cataloguing immediately after i get new stuff, i currently have about forty five records i still need to add lmfao)

storing + maintaining records

keep your records clean! get a good cleaning kit and have microfiber cloths on hand to keep your vinyl as dust free as possible. also use those storage sleeves, it makes a different in keeping your records cleaner longer

a general rule of vinyl storage that i learned from the owner of the shop that i've been going to since i was nine years old is to store them in less than 70 degrees F environments with less than 70% humidity (funnily enough this is apparently the same rule for cigars)

i recommend those ikea square storage bookcases, as they're generally study, aren't too expensive, are pretty easy to put together, and hold a lot of records (do not store your records in milk crates long term)

actually listen to your records! there are very few releases i keep sealed for the sake of keeping them in mint condition. vinyl can be a very expensive habit (800+ records later i am living proof lol) but it's no fun to keep them sitting around. have fun collecting and play your music!

[sillygooseassociation]

Coming home from travel, just in time for Christmas, and ted has decorated your apartment, baked cookies, and all the other lovely Ted things -- just for you.

you wanted to let out a sob as the taxi pulled in front of the cobblestone side street, a mere hundred feet or so from your flat, from ted, from home. you weren't supposed to have been away for so long. what was supposed to be three day trip to the states to deal with a family emergency turned into a weeklong stay in kansas thanks to the many storms across the nation and shitty airlines.

going to your shared home state, ted was determined to come with you, he could see his family, see henry, and not have to be away with you. but with booking a ticket the day before a flight, you were lucky to even find a seat for yourself, plus he had important end-of-year meetings with the team's entire management team, you couldn't let him miss those for you.

you dreaded spending three days away from ted, so when that separation was extended by four days, including you missing out on christmas, your heart absolutely broke. your absence, even though out of your control, added to the dread you know ted was already feeling from henry not coming for the holidays. sure he would see henry in five months, and he was staying for the whole summer! but it wasn't the same. transcontinental parenting sucked sometimes, and this was one of those times, and you weren't even there to help it feel a little less sucky.

after a three-hour flight from KC to new york, a seven-hour flight from JFK to heathrow, and the thirty-minute drive from london to richmond, you were absolutely beat. you paid the taxi driver, wishing them a happy holidays before trudging to way to your flat, checking your phone to make sure you hadn't missed a text from ted. he still hadn't answered from when you let him know you had landed, not that you were surprised. it was 2:30 in the morning on boxing day, you begged ted not to wait up for you, insisting that he needed sleep after a day of celebrating with the team at the higgins' household per the tradition formed two years ago.

you carry your suitcase up the stairs, thankful that you only took a carry-on and not a checked bag, knowing the larger (and heavier) option likely would have resulted in waking up at least one neighbor. a small smile rests on your face when you notice a faint light coming from the crack under the door, ted left the entryway light on for you, of course he did, he was always thinking of you. but when you opened the door after undoing the lock, a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the apartment. the entire living room was covered in lights, christmas lights strung along every wall and emitting a soft glow.

a vinyl of christmas classics played softly from the record player on your bookshelf, a barely-heard humming to the music made its way through the apartment. leaving your backpack and suitcase in the entryway and softly toeing off your shoes after hanging up your coat, you tiptoe to the kitchen, tears pooling in your eyes from what you see. there he is, the love of your life, in flannel pajama bottoms and a chiefs tee, his side profile on display as he stands at the counter next to the over, spooning cookie dough onto a baking sheet.

sensing your presence, ted looks up and turns to you, a smile growing on your face when he sees you, a glimmer in your eyes, "well hey there, darling." you look around the kitchen, seeing some decorated sugar cookies on the table next to some bare cookies and bowls of frosting, seemingly so you can decorate the rest together. apple and cinnamon fill the air, drawing your eyes to the stove where a pot of apple cider, your favorite, is cooking, homemade you presume. you turn your gaze back to ted, who has been looking at you this whole time, a loving look in his eyes, "wh-what is this?"

ted wipes cookie dough crumbs onto his apron before eliminating the space between the two of you. it is only when he places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear, that you realize you're crying, "merry christmas, sweetheart." you shake your head slightly, still a bit confused but also in denial that someone would ever want to do something like this for you, "but it's the 26th." ted swipes away one more tear before pointing at the wall you're standing next to, pointing at the daily rip-away calendar hanging there, the paper reading 25, "nope, you're normally always right honey, but not this time. see, right there, it says it's december 25th. christmas, not the 26th."

you turn your head to look over your shoulder, showing a tight smile as tears continue to run down your face as while you turn back to ted, "ted, you didn't need to do this, i'm late, you already celebrated..." ted shakes his head, holding your head in between his hands as he takes a step closer, placing his face right in front of yours so you are forced to look into your eyes, "i was around people celebrating the holidays, not even all of them were celebrating. but that was them, and i was happy to be with them. but my girl wasn't there, you weren't there, so no, i haven't already celebrated. nothing important happens without you."

ted's lips meet yours in a sweet kiss, both of you tasting some salt from the tears that had run down to your lips. though neither of you are bothered, you are simply happy to be reunited after a week apart. you concede, too enamored with ted and in awe of his loving act to argue with him anymore. you pull away slightly, running your tongue across your lips to capture your tears as ted rests his forehead against yours. "merry christmas, teddy," you whisper, a soft smile on ted's face in response, "merry christmas, sweetheart."

[graffitiplanet]

My aunt bought me a new record player for my birthday! I’m very excited, finally I get to get rid of my shitty suitcase player. I have graduated to official vinyl nerd. :)

[omtai]

listening to mcr on a cheap shitty suitcase record player connected to an equally cheap equally shitty guitar amp (i don’t have any other speaker) and it sounds like they are playing thru a tin can on a string. i feel this is the intended way to listen to them

[zesbian]

are any of y’all rly into vinyl/record players? my girlfriend was hinting that they wanted one for their birthday but I rly don’t know where to start 🙃 like I kinda just found a highly rated simple one on amazon after v minimal searching but I don’t wanna just assume that’s the best for a beginner and buy it? (for reference we both only have had those shitty suitcase urban outfitters crosby ones in the past lmao so I rly don’t know much about it)

[sapphoslibrary]

6, 7, 12, 16

what was the first concert you went to?

i’ve never been to a concert! determined to go to the eras tour next year though.

do you prefer cds, streaming or vinyl?

i love vinyl but i definitely stream the most. my record player is kind of shitty (i didn’t do proper research and bought a suitcase player) so i don’t use it very often, but when i eventually get a better one i plan to use it more.

do you have an artists photo anywhere in your home? who! bonus points if you show the photo!

i have an absolutely massive poster of taylor swift in my bedroom at home lol. it’s like comically large. my best friend got herself and i a fan package at barnes and noble that included the poster, but neither of us expected it to be the size of a literal rug. we decided to commit to the bit anyway and hang it wherever it would fit.

tell us the name of a song that most people probably don’t know but you absolutely adore

for you by delaney bailey! one of my favorite songs <3

[romanroyrabies]

my dad is giving me his old record player which is leagues nicer than my shitty suitcase player that i’ve had since high school this is such a win

[evilrry]

if u need me i’ll be laughing bc

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

[atlas-the-bastard]

Bedroom Bookshelves tour bc I'm bored

(These are only the ones currently in my room and there are like at least a hundred in the living room)

The bottom corner shelf of my Ikea cube shelf thing. Mostly kids books from my horse phase when I was 10 that I haven't been bothered to remove

Also a dictionary. Which is cool I guess

The stack of books I'm currently reading/want to read or look through

Lots of history (the sapiens volume 1 and 2 graphic novels are actually so good tho)

In the Bronte sisters book I'm reading Jane Eyre and in the Oscar Wilde book I'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray

The pile of books currently sitting on top of my shitty suitcase record player

Basically only books 4-7 of the Jack West Jr series by Matthew Reilly (he went to the same school as my dad, in the yr above!)

I'm currently reading the whole series and 100% recommed. It has ancient history. It has action and adventure. It has fantasy. It has found family. It's just so fucking cool.

The other side of the shelf in the first picture

The magician and the sorceress were birthday presents from a friend, as well as mortal engines (he gave me FOUR books and I was absolutely overwhelmed). Haven't read them but plan to when I run out of stuff to read

Also little women which is really good too (we have the sequel and it's my mums and it's like 50 years old)

Also a Dr. Karl book (he's an Australian scientist and is just a really cool guy) and I have like 10 of his books

AND FINALLY THE ONE I WANTED TO TALL ABOUT...ICE STATION, also by Matthew reilly. ITS SO GOOD. It has action and adventure and also slight fantasy/sci fi and is just so great. I have two copies, and one is in really shitty condition and it's like 20 years old and I've been annotating it and its so much fun

The books above my bed

Top shelf is stuff I also want to read/have read and really loved. Note the aforementioned large amount of dr. Karl books.

Middle shelf is half green books bc my room is kinda green, and also books to read/have read

And the bottom shelf is just more green books for the aesthetics. The httyd one is book 6 of the series and they're actually really good kids books. Tenant of wildfell hall was given to me as a book award from school (still haven't read. Some of the 50 word sentences scare me). The Loki book was from a friend and it starts of with loki being sassy and glamorous and strutting his stuff in like 10 inch heels and complaining about his brothers fashion sense and it's honestly hilarious. And the last one is the first book to the magician and the sorceress (seen in photo 4)

Last but not least, more green aesthetic books!

On the far left is some English grammar school textbook my mum gave me (??), then there's ans environmental one abt climate change and helping the planet (also from mum). Then the ICONIC Winnie the Pooh books (I love them), black beauty (the ultimate horse fiction book), and some fairy-tale type book by fucking jkr that I have some vague contempt for but it's green so 🤷‍♀️

I'm sorry guys thus was probably rlly boring but yeah that's all the books currently residing in my room :)

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 1)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU. 

 I hope you enjoy! I will say there are mentions of drug use, so if that bothers you, I’m sorry. It isn’t super heavy, but it is mentioned. I also went with a first pov instead of the typical 2nd pov, but I did keep Y/N. This is also loosely based on Dirty Dancing... aka there will be a few similarities, but not many.. I don’t think. 

Be sure to let me know what you think and if I should continue! :) 

Word count: 3,402

Everyone always said Summer is the perfect time to find yourself, to live carefree and away from the everyday stresses life might bring. That all it takes is for one Summer to change your life. I never bought into any of that bullshit because how can one’s life change all that much in only a few short months.

But it can and it did.

It was the Summer of ‘77 for me, my family and I were headed to the beach for the summer holiday. My dad’s boss had invited him and our family to stay at his family’s hotel in Malibu. Apparently, it was only for those who were very high and mighty that were able to afford a stay at such a place. My father was hoping for big promotion on the next go around, and he believed accepting his boss’ invitation would just about snag it for him.

As soon as I could see the ocean, I rolled down the window of our station wagon to take in the salty air. I reached my arm out moving it along with the ocean breeze as ‘My Sweet Lord’ by George Harrison played on the radio, an old one, but a good one. My parents were in the front of the car, talking about what this vacation would entail and how my sister, Marianne, and I needed to be on our best behavior.

I knew they weren’t talking about me, exactly, but there would have been hell to pay had they only mentioned my sister. She was very much the troublemaker sibling, barely finishing school and had no desire to further her education. Whereas I finished at the top of my class and would be attending college in the fall. I was excited about the new chapter in my life, but it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do.

If I had it my way, I would take a year off and give it a shot pursuing my dream of making music. I loved singing and people say I’m pretty good at it, but most of all, I love writing songs. I always have a little notebook with me and most of my time is spent writing in it. But I knew my father would never agree to me skipping out on college for an essentially unattainable goal. Especially, since going to college was still a little taboo for women.

When we arrived at the resort, my eyes widened at how large it was. Most of the time when we’ve stayed at the beach, it was a small motel across the street. It was such a pain having to carry all of our belongings across the road for a day at the beach, but we made due with what we had.

My family wasn’t exactly poor, but we weren’t exactly rich either. There were many times where we struggled choosing which bills to pay, but my parents always made sure we were taken care of. They tried their best to keep all financial situations hidden from my sister and I, but as we got older we could always read between the lines. Which is why I knew this promotion would be a great opportunity for my father and our family, especially with me heading into college in a few months.

My father pulled up to the main entrance, where a few men, around my age or a few years older, came over to the car. I peeked over the backseat where I was sitting and saw them talking to my father. He handed them the keys and nodded before heading inside. The short blonde haired one came to the trunk of the car and opened it.

“Welcome to The Malibu Breeze Hotel,” he nodded, forcing a smile. “We’ll be unloading your car and parking it for you, so if you would like to head on inside, they’ll get you to your room.”

He spoke in such a monotone voice it almost felt like a recording. I wonder how many times a day or even a week he had to say that.

“Thank you,” my mother said from the front. “Come on girls.”

I got out of the car, grabbing my own bag and walked around to the other side. Marrianne took her time getting out because she was more focused on the bell boys than her task at hand. I rolled my eyes swinging my brown, fringed bag over my shoulder before heading into the resort. I wasn’t sure what I expected the resort to look like when my father first told us about us spending our summer here, but the reality was nothing like what I would have expected.

The front desk was bigger than any desk I had ever seen. Two young women worked the desk, one helping my father check in, the other was on the phone. I stood with my mother and sister while we waited for my father. I looked around taking in the sights of the resort. The colors consisted mostly of black and white and were very elegant and shiny. I felt as if I were in more of a palace than a place at the beach.

It was the complete opposite of the motel’s we had stayed in previously. Those were brightly colored with beach themed decor and palm trees everywhere. From what I’ve seen so far, there weren’t many trees anywhere.

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Y/last/n,” the dark brown haired woman said.

“Thank you,” my father nodded, taking two keys from her and walked over to us.

“We have two adjoining rooms,” he said. “Girls, I trust you two will make good decisions and will not be gatavantling in all hours of the night, yes?”

“Of course not, Daddy,” Marianne said, placing her hand over her heart.

I rolled my eyes discreetly before nodding my head, “Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll be in by curfew,” I answered.

“Good,” he smiled, handing me the key. “Shall we head to our rooms?”

My mother followed my father and I turned to follow as well, when Marianne looked over at me, “You do know you only speak for yourself, right?”

“Always,” I mumbled.

Once we got up to our room, I quickly began unpacking my bags that were already waiting for us when we arrived. My sister, however, grabbed the rotary phone and jumped onto her bed. I unzipped my suitcase hearing her dialing the number of one of her annoying friends, I presumed. I put my clothes, folded nicely, into one of the chester drawers and hung up a few in the closet. I aligned my shoes near my bed and put my bathing suits in the top drawer of the dresser.

Next, I pulled out all of my albums I packed and placed the stack near the record player in the room. I wasn’t sure if this was standard for all rooms, but I had a feeling my father made sure we had one. I guess whoever my sister was trying to call didn’t answer because her voice brought me out of my thoughts as I searched through my records.

‘What?” I asked looking over at her.

“I said, since we’re sharing a room, there’s gonna be some rules,” she said flipping her long hair behind her shoulder. “Rule number one, if I’m in this room, you’re not playing your shitty music. That includes both your albums and you on your guitar. Rule number two, when I’m out past curfew or Daddy asks about what I’ve been up to, you’re not going to be a little tattle tale. You’re not eight anymore. Rule number three, don’t touch my shit and leave my side of the room alone. If the phone rings, don’t answer it and when we’re hanging out on the beach, I don’t know you.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re still the same despite the change of scenery,” I said. “Guess once you’re a bitch, it just sticks, right?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped. “Just because I’m not Daddy’s little girl and a miss goody fucking two shoes, doesn’t make me a bitch. Sorry, I rather live my life how I want and not how someone else wants me to.”

“Maybe some of us don’t want to live a life of fucking around and get high off our ass every night either,” I snappd back.

“You judge me all you want, Y/N, but until you live my life, you can’t really say a fucking thing,” she said before going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

**

Later that night, we headed down to the dining hall for dinner. Apparently, on the first night of the summer, the resort throws a big kickoff bash type thing where everyone enjoys a good meal along with some live music and fun games. I had changed into a simple yellow dress with flowers and a pair of orange wedges. When we arrived at the dining hall, a waiter brought us over to our table.

“This is your assigned table for your stay,” he said. “Here is the menu for this evening. I’ll give you a bit to look it over.”

“Thank you,” my father nodded.

“Is this place not lovely?” my mother swooned. “I am so looking forward to spending our day at the beach and pool area tomorrow.”

“As am I,” Marianne smiled.

She could maybe fool my parents, but I knew there was something more behind the smile. She was looking more forward to finding some friends, mostly boys, to hang out with during her time at the beach and pool.

“Y/N, what about you?” my mother asked, sipping her water.

“Yes, I can’t wait. I plan to take a walk in the morning, taking in the sunrise,” I told her.

Marianne brought her glass to her lips, mostly to disguise her eye roll.

About halfway through our meal, there was movement on the stage in the middle of the dining room. There were three men, and a girl from what I could see. They were all dressed in matching outfits, provided by the resort, most likely.

“Good evening’. The Malibu Breeze Hotel welcomes you and are happy to have you spend your summer here. We are the house band and we’re here to play a few songs while you enjoy the rest of your meal. We do have a dance floor, so feel free to join in whenever you like,” a young man with brown hair said into the microphone.

From where we were sitting, I couldn’t see much, but I quickly noticed he British accent from the man speaking. He looked to be only a few years older than I, but could also be about my age. He appeared to be the lead singer, seeing as how he was standing in the middle and the others were holding instruments.

They started off playing an older song, one from the 60’s that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until I noticed my father smiling and nodding his head. It was one of his favorites, but it was honestly an awful song. I looked around the room, quickly noticing that other guests were enjoying it. Although, the ones who were nodding along were all the parents while us younger guests were practically wincing.

But I could admit that whoever this singer was made the song sound a lot better than the original. Between the arrangement and his voice, I found myself singing along softly and nodding my head to the melody. With each song the band played, more people gravitated to the dance floor, including my sister.

She had found a group of guests that seemed to be just the type she was looking for and headed straight over to them. My parents eventually joined everyone else on the dance floor, while I stayed where I was, picking at the rest of my dinner.

When it was time to call it a night, Marianne rushed over to me and my parents, “Daddy, my new friends invited me to a little get together in their room, can I go?”

“Mari, are you sure? It’s quite late already,” he said. “And we don’t know these people.”

“Daaddy,” she whined. “Please, I’ll only go for an hour and it’s right here at the resort.”

“I would feel better about saying yes, if you didn’t go alone,” he said. “If Y/N agrees to go with you, then you can go, but only for an hour.”

“What?” Both Marianne and I said together.

“Y/N will you go with your sister?” He asked.

Before I can answer, Marianne gives me the death glare. I knew if I saw no, she would make the rest of this vacation hell for me, so I reluctantly agreed.

**

Marianne and her group of friends were well off into the distance as I followed behind to wherever the party was being held. It seemed that once again my sister stretched the truth a bit because while we were still technically on the Malibu Ocean Breeze’s property, we were not anywhere near where we were staying.

When we finally arrived, I noticed several bungalows built side by side and people hanging out in the middle of them. It seemed the party wasn’t designated to just one room or house for that matter, but everyone was scattered out and helping themselves to whatever crib they wanted. I had lost Marianne briefly, before catching her standing near the bonfire with a few of the people she had met back in the dining hall.

Since partying isn’t really my thing, I decided to find a quiet corner or spot to sit at until Marianne was ready to leave. Daddy said one hour, but I knew Marianne would make us late, even if I told her it was time to go. I saw an unoccupied stool and made my way over to sit down. I smoothed the back of my dress before sitting down looking around at the scene around me.

I’ve been to parties before, I wasn’t fully a prude, but I had never been to one this large. People were making out half clothed and falling down the stairs of the front porches. Smoke filled the air from both the fire and the joints being passed around. The smell of alcohol was prevalent and I knew it would be hard to hide the smell of our clothes once we returned back to our room.

I sighed into my hands with my elbows on my knees as I waited and waited. Just like with most other things in my life, I was looked over and completely unnoticeable, until the same blonde hair BellHop made his way over.

“Brown Station Wagon, right?” He asked.

“Excuse me?” I asked looking up at him.

“Sorry, your car, you were in the brown station wagon.. Uh… y/last/name, right?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “And you are?”

“Jasper,” he said sitting down on the stool next to mine. “You?”

“Y/N,” I answered.

“Smoke?” He asked, holding a joint out to me.

I shook my head. He shrugged, taking a hit as the tip lit up in the slight darkness of the night.

“So, what’s the lowdown? You don’t seem to be vibing here,” he said.

“Not that it’s your business, but my sister is here,” I told him.

“The brunette foxy mama?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes, “That would be her.”

“Uh,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothin’” he said.

I glanced down at my watch on my wrist. We should be heading back now, but Marianne is currently swaying her hips to the music as she inhales on her own joint. I shook my head knowing it was going to be a pain in the ass trying to get her back to our room without waking up our parents.

“She’s a wild child, huh?” Jasper asked.

“Except she’s not a child anymore,” I said. “She needs to realize that.”

“Well, to me it looks like she’s have a groovy time and enjoyin’ life. We only got one, so why not?” He asked.

“You can keep on movin’ you know,” I said. “Why don’t you go enjoy life with someone else.”

“Chill, I’m just makin’ an observation,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “How about you loosen up a bit, the house band’ll be playin’ here in a bit.”

“Wait.. the band from the dining hall?” I asked.

“Yes, and no,” he said, taking another hit and throwing the joint on the ground to put out. “Same group, but they play what they wanna play and it’s better than that shit they gotta play up there.”

“Wha-” I started to say, but was quickly interrupted by the same voice I heard just a few hours ago.

I looked over in the direction where the voice was coming from. It was, in fact, the same people from before, but now they looked like completely different people. The lead singer traded his previous outfit for a pair of bell bottoms and a striped tight fitting shirt. He had a guitar with him this time and one of his arms was covered in tattoos.

“And that would be Harry Styles,” Jasper said. “He’s the lead singer and that’s his band. He’s a looker and a bit of a casanova.”

“Aren’t they all,” I said.

“Wanna get closer for a better look? Acoustics’ll sound better, too,” he said.

“Uh, sure,” I nodded.

The two of us got up from our stools and headed into the crowd. Everyone had gathered in the middle and joined in the dancing and shouting the lyrics. I hadn’t recognized them, so I figured they must be originals. I searched the crowd looking for Marianne, she was currently sitting on some random dude’s lap with her arm around his shoulder. I glanced at my watch again, we were officially late now. I made a mental note we would only stay for ten more minutes before I would try my best to get Marianne to leave. Not sure what happened next, but Jasper and I had moved closer to the mock stage. I glanced up at the lead singer, Harry, was it, and quickly saw why Jasper had said what he did.

He was without a doubt good looking and I’m sure girls throw themselves at him all the time. In fact, I’m sure if Marianne hadn’t already found her one, she would be one of them. I felt my cheeks turning red when I saw Harry staring down at me. He gave me a bit of a smirk as he sang, strumming his guitar before moving across the stage.

Next thing, I knew a whole other hour had passed by the time Harry and his band had finished their set.

“Wanna meet ‘em?” Jasper asked.

“Who?” I asked stupidly.

“Harry, who else?” He laughed. “We stay in the same bungalow, so we’re pretty good mates.”

“I-uh.. sure?” I stated, not entirely sure if this was a good idea or not.

“Cool,” he said. “Come on.”

I glanced back looking for Marianne, who was still hanging out with her friends, before following Jasper. We approached Harry and his band, who were getting high fives and praises from others in the crowd. My palms were sweating and I felt sick to my stomach as I waited for Jasper to make the introduction.

I’m smarter than this, I should just walk away, find my sister and head back to our room. But instead I stand there, not moving, not even when Jasper walks back over.

“Harry, this is Y/N,” Jasper said. “She’s staying at the Malibu Breeze. Y/N, this is Harry.”

Harry looked me up and down with a smirk on his face, “Nice to meet ya,” he said holding out his hand.

“Uh, yeah,” I said awkwardly, grabbing his hand. “You uh… your band sounds real funky.”

I… what did I just say.

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed. “I don’t wanna be rude, but this doesn’t really seem to be your scene, love.”

“It’s not, she’s here with her sister,” Jasper said.

“Ah, well, maybe it’s best if you head on out now, wouldn’t want your Mummy and Daddy to worry,” Harry said before heading over to grab a beer from the cooler, ending the conversation and the night.

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter three.

wc: 1,972. original publish date: october 5, 2020.

Van Gogh switches off his phone, smiling to himself in secret contentment to have his best friend back. The fight didn't last more than an hour -- definitely their shortest fight to date -- but usually he's the one who has to go seek out Kennedy to make things right. Which makes sense: Gogh's usually the one who starts the fight so he should be the one to finish it. But it still feels nice to know that JFK cares enough to put an end to it all. Sometimes Van Gogh wonders if Kennedy is ever as hurt by their arguing as he is. Now he doesn't have to guess.

Van Gogh begins packing his carryon-sized suitcase, which is brown with black trim and scuffed plastic wheels. He's had it since he was a kid -- he used to have to go on his parents' business trips with them. They started leaving him at JFK's house when he was ten and eventually stopped leaving him with anyone at all. He had to learn how to watch the house himself once he turned fourteen -- he was a scared freshman with only one friend who lived on the upside of town. He never learned how to meet anyone new. Van Gogh grew so accustomed to being alone that he never knew he should meet anyone new.

The boy begins tossing various articles of clothing and his favourite novels into the suitcase. Mostly he just stuffs the luggage with underwear and socks. He throws in a pair of jeans and two solid colour t-shirts. He walks into the bathroom and starts shoving toiletries into a plastic Ziploc bag. He takes his toothbrush, a full tube of toothpaste (it's family size, but of course he's the only one using it), a travel-size hairbrush that he barely ever uses, and a minute box of floss that he'd acquired from the dentist six months ago, but never used since. He seals the bag and turns toward the door to walk back to his room, but decides to snatch some extra bandages out of the closet for good measure. He barely ever needs to switch out his head cast now that his ear wound has stopped bleeding, but the bandages might get dirty from outside sources and he can't have that.

Van Gogh walks back to his room and throws the Ziploc bag on top of the clothes folded in his suitcase. He crouches down to flip the lid and zip the luggage, but realises he doesn't have a real jacket and this thin and simple windbreaker won't do much good outside of the heat of the house. He unzips the bag and fishes the green fleece blanket off of his bed. It's still sitting in a messy pile. Kennedy never thinks to fold anything. Van Gogh fixes it into a neat square and places it in the suitcase. He crosses the room to his closet, searching for an extra layer more practical than a blanket.

He finally decides on a jacket after meticulously searching for the perfect one. He pulls it off the plastic white hanger by the shoulder panel. It's heavy, with its leather sleeves and fleece lining. It's orange and white, which is a hideous combination, but they're also Clone High's mascot colours. Van Gogh pushes his short arms through the sleeves of the jacket and models it in the mirror, the clothing dripping off of his body and swallowing him whole. He turns around to admire the back, which is his favourite part for some reason. Sewed in crude felt lettering are the initials JFK -- it had belonged to him in freshman year, but he'd tragically outgrown it that spring. Kennedy was going to throw it away, but Van Gogh had told him not to, insisting that there was no reason to dispose of a structurally sound jacket.

Van Gogh zips the suitcase securely and tilts the whole thing upright, taking one more sweeping look around his room before deciding he's ready to go. Well, he's not ready, exactly; he just knows it's now or never. He's never been one to contemplate that sort of dilemma and still choose now, but maybe if he doesn't think at all he'll actually go.

He turns off his bedroom light, blanketing the orderly knickknacks and tight corners under a veil of deep velvet. Only the moon, hanging high and glowing bright, lights the room through the window. Van Gogh nods in satisfaction, or maybe in farewell, before turning around to walk through the ocean cave hallway and out the front door of his house. He locks it with the key which is miraculously still hidden away in the pocket of JFK's jacket from the last time he wore it. Gogh usually doesn't lock the door at all. Maybe one day the house will get robbed and his parents will finally take that as a hint to stop putting him in charge of their most expensive asset all by himself. Who trusts their sixteen-year-old son with their whole house, anyway?

Van Gogh sits on the wooden steps leading up to his splinter-hazardous porch, elbow on his knee and head in his hand. He's pushed the handle of the suitcase down and parked it on the wood slat next to him. He waits for Kennedy patiently, but his stomach sinks down into the soles of his feet as the endless minutes tick by. Maybe his dads caught him sneaking out. Maybe he changed his mind about spending so much time with Van Gogh. How long were they gonna be spending together, anyway? Kennedy hadn't said.

Gogh's head is still spinning, swirling like moonlight caught in the infinite night sky as JFK pulls up. He's driving a flashy red convertible... not the most practical car for a road trip, but the only one he has all to himself. Van Gogh doesn't have a car. Even with his parents absent as often as they are, he still doesn't own something so luxurious.

"I started to think you weren't going to come," Gogh says in place of a greeting.

"I was packing."

Van Gogh looks at his own suitcase. "So was I."

"Well, maybe you should've packed more."

"I'm sorry I don't have as many beauty products are you do," he scoffs. "I'm naturally pretty."

Kennedy walks up the stairs to wheel Van Gogh's suitcase to the car for him. "That you are."

Gogh rolls his eyes, but doesn't give a passionate retort. His head drains of all thought -- including the spinning moonlight that dizzied his conscience just minutes prior.

"I don't need help with that," he finally manages, hoping his voice is frozen over enough to make up for the seconds of thoughtlessness. He lifts himself up off the steps and snatches the suitcase away from JFK, probably a little too hastily for how he's feeling.

"Damn, I was only trying to help."

Van Gogh freezes and turns around, painting on the most innocent smile he can find. "I know you were." He lifts the trunk of the car and hoists the suitcase in. He then walks around to the passenger side door of the vehicle and climbs in, clicking his seatbelt securely before closing the door. He stares ahead out the windshield as he waits for JFK to join him.

Once Kennedy is securely inside the car, he drapes his wrist over the steering wheel and stares out the windshield as well, seeing the neighbourhood from a different view than Van Gogh even though they're looking at the same place.

"So," JFK starts, and the sound of his voice almost makes Van Gogh jump as he's pulled out of his trance. "Where do you wanna go?"

Gogh stares at the boy in the driver's seat, his eyebrows knit together and a scowl frothing on the corners of his lips. "You mean you don't have a plan?"

Kennedy turns to the boy, his expression soft. His whole body looks so calm and relaxed. He looks like himself, but it's a different sort of cool -- almost... withdrawn.

He's wearing his letterman jacket -- the new one he'd gotten at the beginning of the year after outgrowing the one Van Gogh is wearing. His fingernails are bitten down to stubs, from anxiety, or possibly just poor hygiene.

"My plan is that I don't want to be here."

Van Gogh shrugs agreeably. "Then let's just drive."

JFK doesn't pull his gaze away from Van Gogh, and the shorter boy shrinks down into his seat with each second that passes. Kennedy's stare is so intense and serious that Gogh squirms under the pressure. He squeezes the side of the leather seat. It's cold, just like the rest of the snowy world. He wonders if wherever they're going will being having as shitty of an April as Exclamation! is.

"Put on the seat warmers," Van Gogh whispers.

Kennedy finally looks away. He seems to snap back into reality, not knowing he'd ever left it. He starts the car and it spits to life. He revs the engine and it whirrs, comforting him with its eager lurching. Van Gogh watches JFK's hand as he presses some buttons, illuminating them green. A few seconds later, the bottoms of his thighs are warming up through his jeans.

Kennedy sinks his foot down onto the gas, oblivious to the fact that the accelerator might disturb Van Gogh's neighbours, some of whom go to sleep before 9:55pm on a Friday night. In the part of town where JFK lives, the lots are all so big that noises can't be heard from other houses. Gogh's street is jam-packed with families, stuffing their single-story homes full to the brim. Sometimes he envisions the buildings overflowing, flooding the streets with unnecessary as-seen-on-tv merchandise. Maybe that's something he'd like to paint one day, when everyone stops worrying about him and overanalysing his artwork.

JFK eases off the gas as they drift out of town, exploring the unfamiliar landscape. The night is somehow brighter out here, despite being away from all the motion and the lights. They drive up a hill, slowly, the car wheels gripping the asphalt cautiously. Kennedy pulls into a turnout, a barren overhang with a view of nothing for miles and miles spread beneath it. Kennedy turns off the car and the headlights die along with it. Van Gogh's head snaps in his direction, his chest welling up with fear. The height, the quiet, the darkness under the moon -- Kennedy doesn't do any of this. They sit on the floor of Van Gogh's bedroom when his parents are MIA. They do homework or stare at the ceiling as they listen to music from a record player. Gogh doesn't know how to be silent with his best friend -- not when they have no other task to be occupied by.

Van Gogh opens his mouth, his eyebrows heavy with concern. Kennedy starts to speak, as if on cue.

"Just breathe," he says, and it doesn't sound like a suggestion.

"It smells like nothing," Van Gogh replies after taking a deep breath.

"No," Kennedy says, shaking his head slightly. "It smells like our world."

Gogh's expression switches from vulnerable to critical. "Our world. Like we own it."

JFK turns to him. "We can. We do."

Van Gogh opens his mouth to respond, but he's cut off by his best friend again. He makes a low shhing noise without turning to his passenger.

Gogh stares out the windshield at the unfinished map beneath them, and he wonders where to begin. They have the whole world at their disposal. Van Gogh wishes he'd packed darts to throw at the map, so he could plan an unplanned trip.

From up here, he feels like he could touch the moon. He closes his eyes and relaxes in his seat. For a second, he does touch the moon.  

[marvinswriting]

a beautiful roar (that’s in my head)- one

THIS IS A NEW AU?!?!?!? AND A NEW MULIT CHAPTERED FIC?

welcome to the first fic in the mean heathers au. thats right. a crossover au. bear and i have so many hcs and ideas about this au, and this was so much fun to write. keep in mind, this is only chapter one....much more to come

Tw: d slu, the ususal

mean heathers au ft bmc

Veronica stared at the hotel room laid out before her.

"Well, it's nice." Heather McNamara said, stepping into the room and lowering her suitcase.

"Yeah."

It was a nice hotel room. A bathroom, mini corner kitchen, two beds, a closet, and a dresser. Just- 

very small.

"Remind me why we're here again?" Veronica places her suitcase on the edge of the bed Mac didn't pick.

"Veronica," Heather says resembling a disappointed mother. "We are here for Ram and Kurt. This is a big sport tournament for them and we're lucky enough to be able to come here through the school."

"And?"

"And it's an excuse not to be in school." Heather finishes.

"Mhmm." Veronica teases.

Westerburg was attending some big event for schools across the nation. It featured sports for both tinies and giant and was only for the best of the best teams.

To have the tiny football team here was an honor.

"Maybe they'll fund the teams properly now," Heather said. "The tiny cheer squad and the football team have always been the better ones. They just won't fund us because we're smaller. Literally."

Veronica cackles, flopping on her bed. "This is why I don't bother with sports."

Heather grins. "No, it's just because you're lazy."

"Yo! Heather! Ronnie!" The hotel door swings open, Kurt popping his head in. "Heather wants us in the lobby, stat."

Veronica rolls her eyes standing up as Kurt disappears. "We should remember to lock that door."

"Yeah." Mac grins, getting up. "Better not keep them waiting."

The lobby was a lot nicer than the tiny room, as most things are. It was furnished with expensive-looking couches and fancy coffee tables. Sitting at one of those nice sofas already was Duke, Chandler, and JD.

Veronica, Heather, Ram, and Kurt stood at the platform where the tiny hotel ended, flagging down their friends. 

Chander noticed them first, whispering something to Duke before the green Heather got up and walked over. 

"Hi, Heather." Mac said.

"Hello, Heather."

Even to this day, the whole Heather, Heather, and Heather never got any less confusing for Veronica. 

Duke let Veronica and Heather on her shoulder before scooping up Ram and Kurt. 

She walked back over to the coffee table, dropping the two jocks roughly. 

Veronica and Mac stayed on the shoulder, where it was safer.

"So, what I was about to say," Duke continued what she was talking about before grabbing the tinies. "Another school here, Northshore, they're here for soccer and football, their HBIC is a tiny. Regina George."

"Really?" Chandler's eyebrows raised.

"Mhmm." Duke nods. "Their social hierarchy is all out of wack too. Regina kicked a friend off the squad and ruined her social life only to befriend her again later, with her social life still ruined. And the tiny got replaced by a giant only for Regina to rule again."

"Must be one strong tiny." Mac said.

"Or a little bitch." JD offered, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

"It could be both." Veronica said.

"Wait I'm not done."

"Do tell more. I feel like I'm hearing the summary of a bad Netflix show."

"There's rumors of this dude, Damian. He's punched Shane Omen."

"Shane Omen?!" Chandler leaned forward. "You're kidding."

Northshore and Westerburg might not be close schools, but popular kids know popular kids, no matter what. Veronica who was still fairly new to the popular kid life- had no idea who Shane Omen was.

Gotta be a pretty big asshole to get a reaction like that out of Chandler though.

"Jesus, okay. Let's not piss off this Damian."

Duke nodded. "Apparently broke his nose."

"Really?"

"Damian's got a tiny friend, Jane, Janis, something with a J. Shane was fucking with her- as one does- and Damian just decked him."

"So, all I'm hearing is that J girl is off-limits," JD says.

"You're not threatening tinies." Veronica scolds.

"It is fun to do though," Duke says.

Veronica held the shoulder underneath her tighter.

Her giant friends would never actually hurt her, but that didn't mean they didn't like to fuck around.

"Ha! Shane's a loser." Kurt said from the table.

"You've never met him," Duke says. "Quiet."

"Who is Shane?" Veronica asks tentatively.

"A boy Heather and I would party with a couple of summers back," Chandler explained. "He came to Westerburg every summer up until highschool. Biggest asshole I've ever met but man. He's a pretty good kisser."

Okay.

Sure.

"I wonder if Shane's here this year since Northshore is here." Duke questions out loud. 

"Maybe. Northshore is here for tiny soccer and giant football." Mac answers.

"Two? Holy shit." Ram exclaims from the table. "You think we could take on their giant football team?"

"They'd use you as the ball." Duke deadpans.

-

"This place is big and loud and I'm just not having a good time." Janis sinks further into Damian's jacket pocket. 

"We're doing it for Aaron, love." He reminds her, opening the door to the hotel room Damian has.

Janis was supposed to share with Regina, but since Damian got his own room, well- Janis was definitely staying with him. 

"Couldn't we have just gotten him a 'wow you're a good soccer player' card and moved on?"

Damian chuckled. "No, sweets. We're good friends. Unless you just want a card next art show you win."

Janis huffed but provided no further argument.

Aaron was playing a game right now, actually, but the rest of the gang had to check-in. If they rushed, they could probably make it to the end of the game. 

Not that it mattered. Tiny games were recorded and live-streamed into a theater where giants could watch or playback later on the tournament's website. It wasn't the same as being in the bleachers watching the game live.

Still, Damian dropped their luggage and went to meet everyone else back in the lobby.

Cady was already in the streaming room, supporting her tiny as usual. Gretchen picked up Regina and met Damian and Karen before walking to the rooms themselves. 

The room was pretty empty because once again- replay online. 

Cady saved three seats in the front row for the other giants and grinned hen everyone sat down. 

"It's a tie with one minute left."

"I don't understand soccer," Janis said, trying to make sense of the commotion on screen. 

The ball was passed to Aaron and she watched as he dribbled it down the field, shooting it into the goal. 

The goalie reached out but the ball just bounced past the tips of his fingers, landing in the net as the whistle blew.

Cady jumped up with a cheer. "Yeah!"

"Did Aaron score a winning goal? I don't understand soccer." Gretchen asks with a nervous laugh.

"Yes!"

"Is that good?" Janis says.

"Yes, it's good! Northshore won the first match!"

"Hell yeah!" Regina cheered.

The live stream ended as Cady called Aaron.

"Where do we meet you?"

There was silence as Aaron responded to Cady, something the rest of the gang couldn't make out.

"Okay, we'll see you there."

Cady hangs up the phone turning to her friends. "The team is taking the bus back to the tiny part of the hotel, Aaron will meet us in the lobby."

"Okay but how long with that take," Janis says. "Tiny bus means a long ride."

"Bout an hour."

"So let's explore for an hour!" Karen says. "This place is huge."

-

"I don't think I can put into words how badly I hope you fall." Duke remarked, watching Kurt trying to do pull-ups hanging off the edge of the table.

Veronica laughed from her spot on JD's shoulder. "Ram, push him."

"Okay."

No hesitation, the jock pried his friend's fingers off the edge of the counter.

Chandler rolled her eyes. "None of you know how to act."

"Please be careful." Heather McNamara said worryingly, peering over the edge of the table where Kurt fell.

"You don't have to be." Duke sneered.

 "Heather." Chandler turned to the girl sitting next to her. "I want to go look around. Come with me. JD, please try not to kill the tinies."

"Okay, Heather." Duke stood up, lifting Kurt back to the table in the process.

"Heather, you're in charge." Chandler pointed to the small girl on the table.

"Okay!"

"So, tell me moth about the other schools."

Veronica watched as both giants walked away, their conversation fading. 

-

"You've reached Regina's voicemail. Either I'm busy talking shit about you or I don't want to talk to you. You know what to do, beep!"

Janis sighed, lowering the phone from her ear and looking around the room.

She lost Regina about ten minutes ago and there was still no sign of the blonde.

The was on one of the rooms off the lobby that was tiny accessible. More specifically, she was standing on the tiny platform. 

There were lots of people in the room, both big and small, but no Regina Geroge.

Janis's eyes trail over the giant crowd, trying to find some of her bigger friends.

"You lost, shortie?" A voice calls out.

Janis looked to see who girls, both wearing ridiculous costumes, staring at her.

The girl who spoke was wearing green and had sleek black hair tied into a low ponytail by a scrunchie.

"No, I'm not." Janis states flatly.

Shes had enough of asshole giants from Northshore. She doesn't need it from other schools.

The girl in red looks her up and down silently. She gave off an entitled vibe and Janis didn't like it. Very pre-bus Regina. 

"Can I help you?"

The red chick suddenly reached out and Janis stepped back.

"Use your words, not your hands, bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"My name is Heather Chandler. You don't get to talk to me like that."

Who does this bitch think she was? Heather Chandler. Okay? Doesn't change anything. 

Janis was having a pretty shitty day She didn't need this.

"And I'm Janis Sarkisian. Great, we're on a first-name basis. Leave me the fuck alone."

The green chick seemed to have a moment of recognition but didn't vocalize it. Before Janis could say anything about it, a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Sorry for leaving you, I saw somebody I knew." Regina explained. "C'mon, Damian's looking for you. Don't want him to lose it."

Jains groaned. "He needs to stop worrying about me."

"Damian?" Heather asked. "Are you two- from Northshore?"

If Janis didn't know any better she'd say she looked scared.

"What's it to you?" 

"No, it's nothing. Never mind. Sorry about earlier." 

Heather turned away, dragging her friend with her.

"What was that?" Regina asked.

"No fucking clue," Janis said, turning to the tiny exit. "Let's go."

They walked through the tiny halls, making their way to the lobby. "Those girls were confusing," Janis said. "One minute it's all, I'm Heather Chandler, don't talk to me like that, and the next its all, I'm so sorry. What a bitch."

"Okay, somebody isn't having a good day."

"No, I'm not. Thanks for noticing."

The anxiety of being in a whole new crowded place, mixed with exhaustion, and just lots of things going wrong today was the perfect formula for a pending breakdown.

"I need a nap."

"Ohhh me too," Regina said as they entered the lobby. "Let me call Gretchen, let her know we're here. Oh, twelve missed calls from Janis."

"Yeah. Stupid."

The whole gang sat at one of the dining tables where the hotel was hosting a Sunday bar in celebration of kicking off the tournaments. Gretchen dropped Janis and Regina off at the tiny table to get food telling them to flag her down when they were done.

To be honest, Janis wasn't that hungry. Just tired. So fucking tired.

"Yo! Space Dyke!"

God damnit.

"Not today, Shane. Seriously."

Regina and Janis turn around to see Shane Omen, backed up by a boy they've never seen before.

Janis huffs stepping back as Shane reaches his hand. "Dude. Not fucking kidding."

Not that she's kidding normally. But, with a new environment and piles of stress, she might just start sobbing.

Like that would hinder Shane anyway.

"Please, I just want to introduce you to my friend."

"We've heard a lot about the little space alien." The friend sneers.

Space alien over dyke anyway.

Whatever. 

Janis was pretty desensitized to the name. 

"Well, now you've met me. Leave me alone."

"Damn, she's got a bite, huh?"

Bite.

Not a bad idea.

Regina wrapped her arm around Janis. "Shane. Please take you and your goons and leave."

Shane grins. "This ain't Northshore, Reggie. You think I'll listen to you?"

"It be in your best interest too." A voice calls behind Shane.

The duo turns around to give view to Gretchen and Damian- neither looking too pleased.

Shane's friend shugs. "And what would you do about it?"

Gretchen raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Without a warning, a hand grabs Janis off the platform. "What. Would. You. Do. About. It?"

Why doesn't Regina get picked up and messed with?

"Hey!" Janis pushed at the fingers wrapped around her. This was pretty par for a school day, but-

This was supposed to be a fun week to support Aaron.

What the hell.

"Put her down!" Damian steps forward. 

"And who are you to do anything about it?"

Gretchen pauses for a moment before ginning, stepping next to Damian. "That's Damian Hubbard."

Shane's friend holding me laughs. "Damian? You're kidding. Shane- this is the dude who broke your nose?"

Shane huffs but can't defend himself over his friend's laughter.

"Jesus, and here I thought I should be worried."

The fist around Janis tightens, further then Shane's ever fucking done.

She almost preferred Shane. 

Almost.

"Stop-" She couldn't breathe.

Her ribs hurt.

What the fuck.

"What you gonna do about it, Damian." The dude holding Janis mocks. "Punch me? I'd like to see you try."

"Oh fuck! Get em, Damian!" Regina cheers.

If Janis could breathe, maybe she'd laugh.

There's a whacking sound as the fist around her releases and Janis can only assume Damian did fact, punch him.

She had bigger worries though as she went from an extreme lack of air to being surrounded by nothing but-

This truly felt like your average school week. 

It felt just like Northshore.

The hands, the grabbing, the freefall and the-

Janis landed on a warm surface just like normal

-the catch.

Damian's fingers wrapped around Janis the second she was securely in his hand. 

Janis looked up as she was brought to Damian's chest to see Shane's friend bent over, holding his nose.

Regina was cheering, still on the ice cream bar counter.

"What the fuck was that for?" Shane asked stepping forwards aggressively.

Damian shrugged. "Did he not literally say he wanted to see me try?"

"Yes, he did!" Regina grinned.

Y'know when a cornered dog lashes out? Yeah, Shane resembled that.

He stepped towards the tiny platform. "You're a fucking bitch Regina George. I hope you know that. I could fucking kill you if I-"

"Hey, Shane?" Gretchen tapped him on the shoulder, making him turn around. 

"Wha-"

There was a loud smack that echoed through the room- over the other conversations around up. 

Shane's hand shot to his cheek. "Did you just slap me?"

"I'll do it again." Gretchen stood to her full height, chest to chest with Shane. "Fuck. Off."

Janis felt Damian's fingers tighten around her. Not painfully just- defensively.

Fortunately, Shane and his friend walked away, both clutching their faces.

"I guess that solidifies the rumors," Gretchen mumbled, glancing over the crowd, most of whom were staring at the four of them.

"What rumors?" Regina asked, allowing herself to be scooped up by Gretchen.

"Nothing lets just- eat ice cream."

-

Heather and Veronica sat in one of the tiny spaces in the hotel.

They were just little areas with sofas and vending machines but- they were tiny-sized and it was nice.

"Have you seen Kurt or Ram?" Heather asked. 

"No, maybe it's for the best. They're probably doing something stupid." Veronica said, glancing up from her phone. 

"Yeah."

Three kids their age walked into the room, making way to the vending machine. Veronica didn't may them much mind, a lot of students stay at the hotel for the event, there have been lots of kids walking in and out. They typically didn't interact.

"Um, excuse me?"

Typically.

Veronica looked up to see a girl with two-toned length hair. She wore a baggy denim jacket covered in paint and fancy patterned fishnets.

"Do you happen to know a Heather Chandler?"

"Uh, yes? Why?" Heather responded.

The girl shrugged. "You all have a similar get-up. Wasn't sure if it was a coincidence." She stepped closer as her friends finished up at the vending machine. "I'm Janis."

"Veronica."

"Heather."

Janis' eyebrows raised. "Two Heather's in the same friend group? Doesn't that get confusing?"

"Actually there's three. And yes, it's confusing as fuck." Veronica nods.

Janis grinned. "Sounds rough."

The boy she was with stood next to her holding candy from the machine. "I'm Aaron, the girl kicking the vending machine for her chips is Regina."

There's a clunk and Regina bends down. "Got it!"

Janis shook her head. "Well Heather and Veronica, maybe we'll see you around."

The trio waved bye and they turned down the hall, their voices fading.

Heather waved after them before turning back to Veronica. "Well, they seem nice!"

oh ho ho when i say me and bear have talked about this for weeks- i mean weeks. this will be fun

@realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[thatbitchinsneakers]

The Bachelorette Season 16 Episode 1

Hi everyone and welcome to ThatBitchInSneakers! While my identity remains a secret (for now), my unfiltered opinions on the hilariously pathetic franchise that we all know as The Bachelor/Bachelorette most definitely do not . I'm just gonna cut the crap of introducing myself cause literally nobody cares so without further ado, here we go with Season 16 Episode 1 of The Bachelorette.

Before we begin, a preview for the season just came on and it was like "you'll finally get some clare-ification" and some other dumb sentence saying "clare-voyant" (as if any of the 18-25 year old girls who watch this show fucking know what that means?) and all i can say if thank god her name isn't something like hmm idk TAYSHIA ????? cause there simply won't be a single play on words for that one. Bravo to the ABC summer interns for coming up with those! 

This epsiode starts with Chris Harrison "surprising" Clare over Facetime telling her that she's the new bachelorette. Like she totally didn't see this coming even though she had her hair and makeup done and a full blown camera crew in her bedroom. Such a shock for Clare! 

Ok, so she talks a lot about how her life/filming was flipped upside down because of this little thing going on in the world called a fucking pandemic. She's like "what should I do today? Should I get out of bed?" Like don't you have a full time job? Oh wait jk you take take instagram pics from home, I forgot. 

She gets covid tested, thank you ABC, and is free to go makeout with tons of random men! Yay Clare! Chris Harrison delivering her test results had me WHEEZING. Like legally, how is allowed to give her her test results? Can he deliver my results? What about HIPPA? so many questions. not enough time. Moving on. 

Some of the men are introduced and we find out that ABC spends a fuck load of money to put them up in their own rooms at a hotel in La Quinta, California (like sorry Clare the mansion is only reserved for people in their 20s) giving her, and all the men, free covid tests. Lucky them! I had to pay $250 for a rapid covid test so fuck u ABC. Anyway, the men are bored out of their minds in their hotel rooms working out, jacking off (probably), and flexing their muscles in the mirror. 

Clare arrived to the mansion in a dress that looks similar to what I wore to my bat mitzvah (although the backless was a nice touch, Clare) and she sits down with her personal therapist, Chris Harrison, and we find out about her past relationships/500 times being on the show.  Blah blah blah Chris Harrison legit does not give one fuck.

More men are introduced as they walk out of the limo to meet Clare and I'm honestly so impressed at how closely ABC and the NFL worked this season! Every other man on this show a former football player. Sorry to the "account executives" but you guys are outnumbered :/ Maybe next year!

Let's talk about the men.

First on my list of men to talk about is Eazy. He's fucking hot but like...Eazy? "Hi mom and dad this is my new boyfriend, Eazy. With a Z!" Mmm no sorry not gonna work. But tbh he should be the next bachelor because there are so many ways for the ABC interns to incorperate his name into the previews. "This next season is NOT gonna be Eazy" or "These girls are all so Eazy" idk just to name a few.

Jason, former football player, shows up pregnant! Haha! Good one, Jordan! Next.

Ivan gets out of the limo with some inspiring words from his mother, "Maganda ka" in Tagalog, which does actually mean "you are beautiful" (yes I looked it up cause I don't believe anything that comes out of a man's mouth these days). Points for you Ivan!

Kenny - boy band manager. Would absolutely love to know what boy band he could possibly manage. 

Tyler C - Not the Tyler C I'm used to but whatever. Obsessed with the fact that the producers were like hey Tyler come here so we're gonna put you in a shitty little station wagon with a suitcase and a single lamp tied to the top and you're gonna pretend like you "packed up your entire life" to come here for Clare. Ok cool thanks! Quirky entrance #1- check! 

Of course right after Tyler shows up in a disgusting station wagon, someone HAD to roll up in a Rolls Royce. Oh and guess who it is! That's right. The guy who went to Harvard! I wonder how long it's gonna take for him to mention that he went to Harvard. My guess is next episode.

Let's talk about some of the other entrances - Straight jacket? Full suit of armor? Like what drugs were these producers taking when they were like oh here's a great idea lets put a man in a straight jacket and then have him pretend he's here for love! Dumb. 

Ok so then she meets Dale and her 39 year old ovaries literally explode. I don't blame her though because he's really hot but like relax bitch theres 30 other guys here trying to get into your pants like give it a sec. Obvi Chris Harrison comes out and is like "omg did you just say you think you met your husband? Wow in my 568 years of doing this show, I've never heard anyone say that so quickly." Clare, just breaking Bachelor records all around!

So now we're in the fake mansion, the drinks are flowing, Clare is having weird convos etc. This is usually the best part of the Bachelor/Bachelorette because everyone is literally so fucked up because they're drinking, for free, for like 8 hours straight. There's always random fights and people rolling their eyes and what not. But I was so disappointed that the only thing that happened was that one guy was like DMing randoms saying "hey beautiful" or whatever. before the show started filming. Like who cares ? Get over it. Clare sat them both down and was like ok figure it out my 39 year old uterus does not have any more time to waste.

I did love how Blake messaged her before the show being like "I'm here for you" because that's actually so sweet. Like to know that he did that when cameras weren't filming and reached out to her on insta to say he's excited for this to be over so he can meet her and he's here for her while she's going through shit is actually so sweet. If she doesn't keep Blake then I'm suing the Bachelor franchise.

Blah blah blah nothing else exciting. Dale gets the first impression rose, obvi, and then she ends up keeping the man who was DMing the girls before filming. Yosef, who she has already nicknamed "Yo". Then the rose ceremony which is literally at 9am the next day like the sun is fully up. 

To sum up this episode, I'd say it fucking sucked. This doesn't feel like the normal Bachelor/Bachelorette at all. Idk if it's the fact that Clare is 100 years old and not the usual girl that is fresh out of college and a self proclaimed Instagram model, but it just doesn't feel right. 

Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but see yall next week!

Kisses,

That Bitch In Sneakers

Official "I love that" count: 9

Official "I needed this" count: 6

[dramaqueeenamby]

Feast

A/N: Yeah. Idk how to stick with the word requirements for blurbs so here is a whole damn oneshot with Big Nasty and a black reader. Also, ya’ll know I love Amara and she’s my go-to FC, but feel free to ignore and imagine yaselves’! :p

Words: 3.4K

Warnings: Slight, like very slight, and shitty smut

Tagging the fellow Flo’s Hoes/Lil Nasties who I know share love for our manzzzz and expressed interest in this hot mess!

TAGS: @chaneajoyyy @forbeautyandlife @heyauntieeee @crushed-pink-petals @mimigemrose @thepinkjinx @honeychicana @sdcyumyum @babygirlofwakanda

FEAST

“Bitch, hurry up. I can only hold my stomach in for so long. Not all of us have abs like you.”

Your best friend and current photographer sucked her teeth. “What abs? I haven’t done a real workout in months.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking from your position to place your hands on your hips and look over at her, squinting from the intensity of the sun. “What are we about to do then?”

Maya mirrored your stance. “You know damn well we’re only going to make it about a block before we call it quits.”

You laughed. It was true. While Maya had a bit more stamina than you, neither of you were feeling like being healthy. Plus, between decorating your new condo that you’d purchased with your best friend since elementary school or getting in a negative calorie burning workout….playing interior designer sounded a lot more appealing.

“Well let;s at least get these pictures done. We look too bomb to not snap a pic or two.”

“Or 100.”

You fake sniffled. “You know me so well.”

Sharing a laugh, Maya instructed you on how to pose, snapping more than two photos before you switched positions.

“Ugh. Give me your height, please.” At 5’10 with a slim thick figure, your best friend could have easily been a model if you two hadn’t went into the clothing business, opening your own boutique.

Maya snorted. “Give me your booty.”

“It’s a trade,” you agreed as Maya gave you poses that made her look even that more angelic and bomb than she already was. “Work, bitch.” The two of you fell out laughing as she gave a little twerk before covering her face.

“Can’t take us anywhere.”

You wiped at your eyes. “Nowhere.” She came to stand beside as you two perused through the photos you’ve taken eventually settling on one for each of you to post on social media.

“Franchise is going to love that one,” Maya murmured as you guys started to walk back toward your condominium, the decision to bypass the workout an unspoken agreement made among you.

You threw your head back and groaned. “You and that damn nickname.”

“I wouldn’t have given it to him if you would bless that man with some Rosetta Stone.”

“Now see, what we not gon’ do is talk about my baby.”

“That’s the biggest ass baby I’ve ever seen.” As her eyes fell onto you, she caught the sly and suggestive smile planted on your face. “Stop that!”

“You tell no lies,” you wiggled your brows as she grimaced.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She pretended to gag as you pulled out your phone to check the post. Sure enough, he’d been one of the first to like it.

Smiling, you swiped to see he’d left two separate comments.  

😍😍😍

Mine 🤪🙌🏻❤️

You quickly double tapped both to heart them before giving a quick reply.

☺️😘❤️

Your boyfriend, Florian, was the definition of unexpected. You’d met by chance, both of you being on the same connecting flight that been delayed, forcing passengers to spend the night in the terminal. Your phone was dying, you foolishly leaving your charger in your suitcase as you hadn’t expected your battery to die before you reached your stop, Honduras.

Looking around the terminal, you noticed that there was only one available seat that was near a charging station. And it just so happened to be next to the tall, large, and handsome man who you could have sworn you’d caught staring at you several times. Never really into white guys, even you couldn’t deny the man was sexy as hell.

You’d overheard him talking on the phone and noticed he had a European accent to his deep voice, amping the appeal you were already having problems ignoring.

As your battery sunk into single digits, you decided to approach the handsome stranger, asking if it was alright for you to take the seat next to him.

“Of course.” Was his kind reply, his smile causing your stomach to do all kind of somersaults and walkovers.

While you’d initially planned to pretend to be busy on your phone, it seemed as though being in his proximity or being the first to make the move was the only thing he needed to start up a conversation.

An exchange of names and casual conversation quickly turned into you learning almost everything to know about each other. He was an actor who’d just been cast in a film he couldn’t tell because of contractual reasons and was going on a short vacation with close friends before traveling to the states to start filming.

You told him how you were heading to Honduras to celebrate your best friend’s 25th birthday. His favorite color was green. Yours was pink. He was the baby of his siblings. You were an only child. He was single….you were single.

You could definitely detect the flirtatious tone he allowed to seep in his naturally confident demeanor and surprised yourself with how you matched his vibe. Then again, how couldn’t you? The man was gorgeous and his body was delicious.

And that was just from what you could see through his sweats.

Contact information was exchanged as you two eventually separated, and what started as a long distance friendship easily transformed into something a lot more serious. He was away filming for three months, 90 days that comprised of constant phone and video communication, virtual interaction constituting the forming of your relationship.

Though you hadn’t officially discussed the status of you “-ship” as you’d gleefully ran into his open arms as you met him at the airport, making physical contact with him for the first time since you met…..you just kinda knew.

Then, of course, the fact that you two went through almost half a box of condoms the same night and you learning the real reason they called him Big Nasty probably helped as well.

So now, months later, there was no question about where you two stood. Florian was your man, and you, his lady.

Pulling down to refresh the comments, your smile dropped as you saw Maya’s reply on the thread between you and your boyfriend.

🤨 She been both fine AND mine long before you, Franchise.

Looking at her with the ‘really, bitch’ face, she busted out laughing.

“You know I had to.”

You maintained your annoyed expression before joining her in her cackling. “I hate you.”

“Lies,” she sang. “That’s like saying you hate Baby Arnold.”

“Maya!”

She was right though. Though you’d always been hesitant about falling too deeply given your less than stellar track record with men, there was something different about Florian. Being with him made you feel like a teenager all over again. Hell, you were 25 and getting all giddy over a damn Instagram comment.

You didn’t want to say that you loved him. Not yet. Not out loud, at least. But….you definitely more than just liked him.

As you two made it back to your condominium, you decided to start unpacking the boxes that created a fire hazard in your kitchen. You’d had just about enough takeout and while neither of you could cook to save your lives, it couldn’t help to start learning.

After all, you wanted to try to learn how to make at least one of your man’s favorite dishes. All you needed was a recipe, ingredients, prayers, and a fire extinguisher.

“Would you get off your phone and help me put some of these dishes away?” You yelled at your friend as she waved you off, continuing her IG live as she ate the last bit of her Chinese takeout.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” She snorted as you turned around to flip her off.

“Hey, Siri. Play my music on Shuffle,” Maya called out to the HomePod. You rolled your eyes and prepared to tell the music player to turn it off when you realized it was “Bust Down Barbiana.”

“Ayee!” You shouted, running over to turn the music all the way up as Maya jumped up as well. Going over by her, the two of you started to dance and sing along.

“Thank you next, Ariana!” You both yelled as you two twerked on each other, all desires to stay on task thrown out the window. You continued to dance, noticing as the viewers of the Live continued to go up and up as you remembered Maya had a good amount of followers.

For a second, you contemplated moving out of the frame but as soon as the next song came on, Tia Tamera by Doja Cat, you knew it was a wrap.

“Hair grow long like Chia. Money go long like Nia!” You sang loudly, moving to climb up on the half wall, dancing on there, dropping into a squat and moving your ass. “I am the big idea! My twins big like Tia!”

“Aye! Aye!” Maya continued to hype you as she grabbed her phone to better film you. “Get it, Thickems!”

Continuing to act a fool, you didn’t notice Maya roll her eyes until she shouted.

“Go away, Franchise!”

Hearing that, you looked at her. “Flo’s watching?” As she murmured a ‘you know he is,’ you grin widened as you blew a kiss. “Hi, baby!”

“Can ya’ll not be all romantic on my live!” Maya groaned. You ignored her and continued to dance, purposely moving your ass even more. Flo loved your booty, his big hands always going to grab or smack it every chance he got.

Especially during sex. His favorite position was any that allowed him to bend you over. The counter, the bed, a workout machine, anything really.

“He said get your ass down before you fall, Bee!” Maya warned, though you were unsure if she was just saying that or if Flo really was concerned.

“If I fall and hurt myself, will you come home?” You asked, half joking, half serious. Promo for the film Florian had been filming, Creed II, was at full force, your poor boyfriend having to partake in interview after interview and premiere after premiere. A part of you felt bad for him, but you missed your man more.

It’d been almost two months since you’d seen him in person, and he wasn’t set to come visit you for another month. Your shower head and vibrator could only do so much. You needed the real and much bigger thing.

But sexual desires aside, you really just missed being held by your boyfriend, joking around with him, forcing him to watch your “chick flicks” or the occasional trip to the club.

“Ooooh.” You finally jumped down and walked over to Maya. “Call him.”

Maya turned up her nose. “Hell no. This is a rated G live. Ain’t no freak shit taking place on my watch. I’m a Christian.”

“Bitch you a whole lie and 3/4ths.” You smacked your lips as you looked over her shoulder to see comments coming in left and right but focusing in only on his.

😂😂😂😂😂

“Call me, baby!”

“It’s maybe.”

“Maya, I am about to punch you in your throat.”

“Come on then, bitch. I ain’t never been scared.”

“You are so ignorant.” You wiped at your eyes and elbowed her, walking away to get your phone out the kitchen.

“That ass though!”

Shaking your head, you looked at your reflection in the FaceTime before calling him. Ring, ring, ring, With each ring, your smile dimmed. Why was he not answering? Eventually, the “unavailable” screen came up and you frowned.

“He didn’t answer.” You told Maya as she walked over, having ended her call.

Maya shrugged. “Probably went to go beat his-“

“Maya!”

——

As you finished applying your night serums, your mind was still focused on the day’s earlier events.

You’d tried calling Florian a few more times after that with each call being ignored. You texted him. No reply. Hell, you’d even resorted to more stalkerish tendencies by checking his IG activity to see if he was liking photos or whatnot. Nothing. He’d just gone ghost.

You tried to ignore it. You really did. The last thing you wanted to think about was him cheating, messing around on you. He was probably working, but as you thought about where he was and the time zone, what work could he be doing at 3 something in the morning?

Something just wasn’t right.

Of course, Maya called you stupid.

“Terminator knows I’ll kick his Russian ass if he breaks your heart.”

“He’s Romanian, Maya.”

“I don’t care if he’s Lettucian. He still gon catch this fade if he wanna be on some Tristian Hoempson shit and cheat on you.”

You chuckled. Your best friend was crazy, but you loved her.

Just like you love Flo-

“Oh hell no.”

Frowning, you walked to the bedroom door. “What’s up?”

“Ain’t this about a bitch.”

Sighing, you walked over to slide on your slippers and headed out your room. “Heifer, you better be dying.”

“Oh, someone is about to die.”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the top of the steps. “What-“

Mouth ajar, eyes wide as saucers, you completely blocked out Maya’s smirking, charcoal mask covered as she crossed her arms over chest, and murmured a small “gotcha.”

No, your eyes were focused on the giant standing at the bottom of your steps, bag on one shoulder, suitcase on the floor next to him, his magnetic smile on his handsome face.

“Surprise.”

As though his voice was your ‘on’ switch, you broke from your trance. “Baby!” Descending down the steps with surprising speed, you threw your body into his, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Now what if you had fallen? Hmm? Who was going to pay that hospital bill?” Maya wondered aloud as you flipped her off while crashing your lips onto Florian, his hands going to palm your ass as he held you against him.

“Hey, hey, hey! All possible baby making activities need to take place in the bedroom as per section G, paragraph 2, lines 8 through 11 of the contract.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked after having to break away for air, completely ignoring your best friend. “I thought you couldn’t get away for another month.”

“I’m done in a month, but everyone needs a break, yeah?” His finger traced your lips as you went to drop your legs so that you could stand up, only for him to tighten his grip. “You missed me, hmm?”

“You know what I’m going to miss? The silence!” Maya groaned. “Where are my Beats because if you think I’m going to listen to “fuck me daddy” and “don’t stop” all night-“

Florian chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping your head on his chest. “It’s nice to see you too, Maya.”

“Don’t lie to her,” you mumbled into him as he turned to look at you, pecking your forehead, forcing a giggle as you clutched him tighter.

Maya gagged. “I’m leaving. Don’t beat it up too much. Tomorrow is the Lord’s day.”

“Hate you, mean it.” You groaned as she walked up the steps, finally leaving you two alone.

Hitting him on his shoulder, he looked over at you with a scowl. “Wh-“

“You had me worried sick about you.” You finally remembered the stress he’d unknowingly forced you to endure as the result of his surprise.

“I’m sorry.” You noticed the guilt in his eyes and voice and felt a bit bad about making him feel bad. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I don’t like surprises,” you pouted as he finally let you down so that he could slide the bag off his shoulder, hands going to your hips. “I like being able to talk to my man.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk,” he hummed, head dropping down as he lightly nipped at your neck. “Maybe I want to touch…to taste.”

You released a mixture of a moan and groan, legs involuntary clenching together.

“You should be tired.” You tried to be considerate. As much as you wanted him, you thought about how he’d most likely been in the midst of traveling while engaging with you on Instagram. He’d been in airports and on planes for the most of the day. “At least, take a shower. Settle down.” Your fingers crawled up his chest. “Just for a bit.”

He sighed with irritation as you giggled. Standing up on your toes, you kissed his nose. “Go on. The sooner you get done, the sooner we can get started.”

——

Pouring the crystal light into the glass, you closed up the container and placed it back in the fridge. As soon as you turned around, you were ambushed with a passionate kiss, Florian grabbing you by the back on your legs and hoisting you up against his shirtless frame.

Hands holding onto his broad shoulders, you nipped on his bottom lip.

“I guess I don’t need to ask if you missed me, huh?” You teased as he sat you down on the counter so that you could grab your drink.

He chuckled and looked down, hands moving up and down your bare thighs. “I always miss you, Bee.”

Grinning bashfully, young nails lightly raked across his back as he netted his head into your neck. “Needy.”

“Very,” he absentmindedly replied, hands moving higher up your legs and under the big shirt you were sporting.

“Flo,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties. “At least let me fix you something to eat.”

“I don’t want that.” He groaned, lifting and relocating you to the island. “And you can’t cook.”

“You know what,” You gasped and slapped his arm. “I-“ Your eyes fluttered as pushed him hands up your body, kneading your breast with one hand while using the other to carefully push you down on your back. “Not here.”

“Why not,” he murmured, kissing the inside of your thighs as he started to tug on your underwear. “Kitchen made for eating, hmm.”

You whimpered as his finger stroked your folds, a low groan leaving his mouth. You were already so wet for him. “You said you missed daddy, ehh?”

Nodding rapidly, you threw your head back and just as you felt his cool breath on your pussy, it fell out in breathy voice.

“Mmmm, I love you.”

Both of you froze. Your eyes stretched as you started to wonder just how you were going to get away from him, put as much distance between you two as possible.

Unfortunately, with the position he had you in, it was almost physically impossible for you to dash so you forced yourself to attempt to do damage control.

“I-uh-what I meant is-you know-uh-,” you stammered, finally gaining the courage to him to see that he was smiling at you. Like, genuinely fucking smiling. You wanted to smack him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snapped, turning your head when you felt his hand come to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You love me?” He questioned casually, like it wasn’t something you’d been trying to keep a secret for weeks, still unsure if it was, in fact, love or just lust. Maybe that’s what it was. Lust. Yeah. It’d been too long and you were speaking from your pussy. Not the heart.

That was your story and you were-

“I love you too.”

Silence.

The silence that fell over you two was so thick that you could literally hear the sound of your gulp.

“W-wh-at you just say?”

He couldn’t have said what you thought he said. No. Your-your ears were playing tricks on you.

His gaze darkened as he gazed his lips over yours. “You heard me, frumos.” Beautiful. “You want me to say again?” He questioned, giving you no time to process let alone reply as he brought his head back down your body. “Or show.”

You moaned and released a shaky breath. “Baby-“

“Shhh,” he tugged your thighs over his shoulders, pulling you right into him. “Daddy needs to eat.”

And as your man finally indulged on the dessert he’d been waiting for all day and your mewling fueled his hunger, you realized that while your punani certainly loved the man feasting on you like you were his last supper…..so did your heart.

Huh.

“Ugh. I’m starv-ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW!” A Beat. “YA’LL ARE GOING TO JAIL, PERIODT!”