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joe9cool · 2 years

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Collide-Justin Herbert-28

A/N: This is all fanfiction, I do not know The Chargers, or anyone associated with anyone on the team. Also you do not have permission to copy and post anywhere else. Thank you and Buckle up

The more time went on, the more mad Justin was. He had an interview over the phone with a radio station to which Justin had avoided the question when asked about Sara. Then her publicist reached out to him as well as a member asking about signing a NDA. It was too much for Ashley, who handled athletes on a smaller scale. In fact Justin was the first athlete on a big scaler she handled. Her phone was blowing up left and right when the major media companies flooded his publicist.

His photos were everywhere on instagram. The media pages put photos of him and Sara next to each other. Fans were harassing his family and friends. Carly and Isabell as well as his cousins had to lock down or just deactivate their profiles. He had gotten off the phone explaining the situation to his extended family, who were blindsided. Mitch was next, he said there were people outside his hospital asking about Sara and saying they recognized him from photos.

Within minutes Ashley found an article published. 25 things you don't know about Sara Wozniak's new boyfriend Justin Herbert.

The article went into detail about his family with photos and names. It also brought up past relationships.

Taylor's name was mentioned as a rumored relationship.

Justin wanted to break everything around him. This couldn't be happening, he had done so much to protect his private life and now it was blown up for millions of people to see and read about.

He thought about David's words her team controls when they share that information. Especially if she is doing press.

She had a break to do the fashion show. Plus for her new movie. Yeah how convenient this gets published. He thought bitterly.

He remembered when she posted videos of herself on social media when she was at his house. Of course she maintained that she was in a background that wasn't recognizable but it had him wondering.

Once he got home he was going crazy. He kept checking his phone, brushing through all of the notifications on instagram. He saw she didn't even respond back to him. But her fucking team could. It was now late Monday and Justin felt like he had run a mental marathon.

He was pissed as he saw nothing from Sara. He was sure she had a break in between and she couldn't call him.

Eventually his phone rang, but it was only Ashley. He picked up dreading to hear what was next. "Hello?"

"Justin, I managed to get in contact with the man who wrote the article. Jack Lange, he said he was fed all of the information about you and Sara as well as the photos were handed to him to post." There was a pause. "So you're telling me someone from Sara's team went to him voluntarily?"

"Yes. Now I don't want to make accusations. But Justin, one photo was taken directly from Sara's phone." He knew which one she was talking about. The selfie of them kissing on New Year's Eve. Sara was protective of her phone, only she and him knew the password. Justin huffed in disbelief. "So she must have told her team to publish it."

"Does she have anything coming up that she would want any publicity in the press?"

He answered quickly. "Her fashion show, and her movie." He shook his head. He trusted her.

"All we can do is hopefully have this blow over." They hung up and Justin was more upset than originally

He looked around at all of her stuff. Before he knew it he began packing it up.

—------------------------------------------------------------

The universe hated her.

Alex brought her phone back from the hotel while she was in mid scene. It caused her to have a bad set day which meant re-shoots. Despite it being a closed set fans were outside her hotel and by her car asking about Justin.

By the time she got to the hotel it was 3pm Abu dhabi time which meant it was 3 am in Los Angeles. She wanted to throw up upon looking at her phone. It was obvious Justin was pissed.

Erika had called her from back in LA and filled her in before Heidi and the others got to her. She told her about the article and the photos that were leaked from her phone. "Fuck" Sara whispered.

Then it was time to talk to Heidi. Who told her she got in contact with Ashley Justin's manager about signing an NDA which she wasn't pleased about. "Look I appreciate you guys being on top of this, but I don't want anyone to do anything until I talk to Justin. Which will be once he gets up." She looked at the time and saw it was now 5am Los Angeles time. "Just keep me updated." She hung up and began pacing. Once she took a few deep breaths she dialed Justin's number.

After a few rings he picked up. "Baby, I ju-"

"So nice of you to finally get in touch while I was stuck dealing with the fallout." He growled. Ouch. The fallout? "Justin, this isn't some scandal. Our relationship is out. I know that it isn't ideal but."

"It was your plan wasn't it?" That stopped her in her tracks. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? My family is calling me wondering why people are outside their house, following them around. They are in magazine articles. My privacy has been blown up. I've had to dodge cameras outside my own fucking house!" Sara was quiet. She knew it was going to be bad but not this bad. "Justin, you should have texted me or called my management. They would have helped you."

"So you told them about us?" Sara was confused. "What are you getting at? I didn't say anything, they were blindsided by the article as I was. It said it was confirmed by my rep but they never reached out."

He huffed again. "Sure." She was quiet for a few minutes. "Are you seriously saying that I purposely did this?"

"I'm not stupid, I know how this works. It's just so convenient that you have all this going on and there was talk of me coming to the show and it just drops. Let me guess you were planning on ambushing me and taking all of these photos."

Sara was in disbelief. "Justin are you fucking serious? Do you really think that little of me?" Justin was silent. "I don't know what to believe anymore. All of you Hollywood people are the same."

She was mad now. She understood him being upset, but she thought that he'd be able to get past it and they could work on a solution together. But this? Attacking her, accusing her of doing something so vile. Sara didn't know what came over her, her hot-headed ways coming back.

"Justin give me a fucking I'm not a damn I influencer who relies on exposure."

"It's the same fucking thing!" Justin yelled. "You are all the same!"

"You know what? I'm not Hannah Ann. I'm not calling the paps!" Sara was trying to keep her voice low. But then she realized a big mistake.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She fucked up. "How do you know about her?" He spoke slowly as well and she knew he was on the verge of bubbling over. She was silent. Tears coming to her eyes. "Sara, answer me right now."

"When we were first together. You gave me your phone to look at the script for your Chipotle commercial I went to Instagram and saw your messages." She was crying now.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!" Justin was pacing his floor. He was so mad he was seeing red. "You went through my private messages? How do I know you didn't leak those?"

"Justin, I just looked. I was so insecure about everything. I would never leak that. Just I didn't do it with the photos" She was desperate now. She wished she was on a plane to Los Angeles right now. "I'm sorry."

"Were you ever going to tell me this? Or were you just going to act like it never happened. Cause if you are insecure imagine how I felt seeing who you were with. How do I know you're not fucking someone right now?"

She was hysterical "I would never do that to you. Just like I knew you wouldn't do that to me. I'm so sorry, please Justin."

"You're nothing but a typical Hollywood attention seeker like everyone else. You know what Sara? I'm sorry I told you I loved you. In fact, I think we should stop seeing each other." Her breath caught. "What?" She squeaked out.

"We're two different people, different worlds. You need someone who likes the spotlight, I can't give you that."

He kept rambling. "Who knows who else you went through. We were moving too fast. I mean I couldn't even get space." Sara was again in disbelief. What on earth was he talking about?

"Justin, how can you say that? I love you and I don't care about the spotlight. Justin please I'll be in Los Angeles in a few days just let me explain."

"Don't bother. I'll have your stuff outside your door. My manager will drop it off, since you just want to go through them. Have a nice fucking life."

The call ended. Sara couldn't breathe. She was sobbing hysterically that her manager Alex busted in. "Sara oh my god. She grabbed her friend/client and made her sit down. Quickly grabbing a water bottle she made Sara take some sips. "What on earth happened?"

Finally after she got her breathing together again she grabbed her phone and dialed Erika.

"Sara? What on earth happened?" She knew her best friend was a mess based on the heavy breathing and shaking voice. "What's going on?"

"Justin broke up with me."

—-------------------------------------------------------------

The past few days were hell for Sara.

She was finally getting on a plane for Los Angeles. Normally this would have excited her. She was getting to go home to see Justin and spend a little time with him before the fashion show. Which he said he was going to attend, but now everything was up in Limbo.

Well she wasn't sure what to think. On the other hand, she thought he just needed space and that he was going to call her. But three days have passed and not a word from him. She tried calling him a few times, but it went once to voice-mail. She didn't bother to leave any.

She spent that night crying over the phone with Erika and Bella, who swore she was going to kill him when she landed.

Another thing was dealing with her family. They had been calling non stop, and she didn't have the energy to deal with them. What was there to say? Yeah I was in a secret relationship for almost seven months but now that's not a thing excuse I just got dumped? Once again, poor Sara, always the bridesmaid never the bride. The only Wozniak sister to not be married.

She would call them once she landed.

The flight was long, and as they got closer to landing she wished it was longer. It was about 6am when her plane landed on the private runway at LAX. Erika was waiting for her instead of Justin and when she came down the stairs she collapsed in her best friends arms. "I'm so sorry Sara" she rubbed her friends back as she sobbed. "I cleaned up your stuff. Ashley, I'm assuming Justin's manager dropped everything off." Erika stated as they got in the car. "How was filming?" Erika treaded lightly as she drove off to Sara's house.

It was hard seeing her best friend this distraught. She wasn't even this upset when her and Harry broke up and that was a longer relationship. "I'm so sorry. He never deserved you. Why the fuck would he even attempt to date a bad bitch like you if he couldn't even handle it?"

Sara managed to crack a small smile so Erika continued. "Seriously? This motherfucker growing a nickleback beard thinks he can do better than you? You gave your heart and soul to him? I mean for real this man couldn't even support your career. You're better off without him." She reached over and grabbed Sara's hand. "He treated you like shit. You deserve so much better."

Sara nodded as tears rolled down her face. "It just fucking hurts."

"I know sweetie, but at least it was only six months. You are still young! Let's get out there and have some fun!" Sara nodded. "Just give me a bit please. I don't want to fall back into clubbing all the time, drinking the pain away. I'm past that." Erika nodded. The rest of the drive was talking about filming and trying to get her mind off the breakup. They pulled up to her house and she saw cars. "Erika, what is this?"

Her best friend smiled. "Well since everyone else is in town for the fashion show we are doing a fuck Men party." Erika unlocked the door to their house and for the first time in a bit Sara genuinely smiled. Bella, AnnSophie, and Sydney were clad in sweatpants. Behind them was a sign that said "Fuck Men" surrounded with balloons. There was a set up of Sara's favorite comfort foods and desserts as well as wine. Sara wanted to cry again out of happiness that her friends managed to do all of this. "Thank you guys!" She tightly hugged each and every one of them. "Oh my god Sara, look at the best part!" Sydney squealed and pointed towards the other wall.

On it was a dart board, Justin's team picture was tapped there. As much as she laughed at it her heart did ache, though she didn't dare show it. Despite the fact that it was a busy week for all of them, she still planned on going to his house to explain herself. She knew him well enough to know that he would be in LA for some time.

As much as the girls did their best for this fuck men party they all knew their friend was putting on a brave face. At one point Bella asked. "So I'm assuming Justin isn't going to the show."

Erika spoke up. "Well the extra ticket I emailed to him was confirmed." Sara's ears perked up. "Really?" Erika nodded. "Yes and that was a couple days after this breakup" the girls all gasped and Sara's heart was beating fast. He was coming, despite it all he would be coming. Maybe this week won't be so bad.

It was late when the girls went to bed. It was nice having them all here. They all laughed and cried and watched bad rom coms before they fell asleep in a big fort in the basement. The next morning was total chaos as they had to be in rehearsal and dress fittings. The Amazon camera crew would be there. So they had to make sure hair and makeup was done. As they all got ready Sara was in a much better mood. She would give Justin his space but the fact that he would be showing up at the show to support her was huge.

Good things were happening.

The girls arrived at the studio, and oh and awed at their outfits. Sara flung through the racks of her outfits she would be modeling. Since Rihanna was performing in the superbowl, they had sports theme clothing and Sara saw a 'Chargers' crop top hoodie with the matching blue bolt thong. She was confused until a stylist came up to her. "Rihanna insisted you wear this since you're dating the QB!" Sara smiled. It would be a big step, and she wanted Justin to see that.

There were skimpy pieces. She would be walking in four programs. As she sat in the chair to do a trial run of hair and makeup she looked over at AnnSophie, who smiled at her. "You're excited for Justin to be here?" Sara nodded. "Yes, it's going to be awkward. But him being here shows me that he is fighting you know?"

"Don't forget he owes you a massive apology. The fact that he thinks that you were behind this. Rip him a new asshole Sara."

She laughed. "Oh I'm gonna give him shit. I can't believe he really thought that. Me? Attention seeking. I do need to apologize though. It was wrong of me to look through his messages like that." AnnSophie laughed. "I mean yeah it was toxic, but you guys were so unstable, and you didn't know anything about his past. So I mean it's whatever."

Once they were done, they went over their routine and the music. Cardi B was performing during certain sections. As Sara walked she was being praised by the runway coach. After reaching the end of the runway and doing her pose she became nervous. Of course all of the seats were empty but the those would be filled with celebrities and camera crews. Not to mention this was going to be live.

After rehearsals she would be sitting down one on one to film her section. She was clad in her fenty robe and chair as the artists where touching up her makeup. A camera crew came over to film with the interviewer. "So Sara how are you feeling? You looked excellent out there." She smiled "nervous for sure. But it's an excited nervous. This is a big deal, and Rihanna and her team have worked so hard to make this a reality. I want to reflect that and make her really proud to see me up there."

"Well she has some really high praise for you." Sara's eyes widened and the interviewer laughed, knowing that the audience was going to eat it up. "Really? Oh my god what did she say?" He laughed. "I can't tell you."

"Please?" "No!" "Ugh" She pouted teasingly and he laughed. "So word on the street is that there is a special guest supporting you tonight" She was confused. Since when did an Amazon camera crewman know? "I have a lot of friends coming out to support me and I feel so blessed." They still persisted. "Someone in particular you're really excited about?"

"I'm excited about everyone!" The camera cut. Knowing they weren't going to get anymore information out of her, they moved to the next model. Sara took a deep breath. See Justin? I could be private she thought.

She had an interview with some of the other models that they shot. It was late when everyone was done, Bella and Sara decided to catch a late dinner while everyone else went back to Sara's place. As they sat down an Italian restaurant. Bella had to say something. "So I heard what AnnSophie told you in the chair earlier."

Sara took a sip of her cocktail. "And?"

"I don't think you should just forgive Justin when you see him. Granted, you were in the wrong for looking at his messages, but he was more in the wrong. Not to mention the way he treated you in the beginning."

Sara looked down at her menu. "Thank you for being supportive. I know you weren't his biggest fan."

"Believe it or not I've grown to like the guy. I just wished you guys communicated your issues about fame. I'm sorry the article got out. Do you have any idea who did it?"

Sara shook her head. "No idea, I haven't actually looked at it. Erika told me it looked like a hack, but I don't know."

"That's just the pictures though, what about what was actually said?" Again Sara shook her head. It sounded like we were being followed. There were photos of Justin taken outside my house in his car. They probably followed us and put two and two together." Bella shook her head. They are always one step ahead of us.

While Bella was placing their order Sara sat there and wondered if Justin was going to the fashion show why didn't he text her? Should she text him? Sara shook those thoughts off and decided that she would message him after the show or before. Let him come to her.

—--------------------------------------------------------- Taylor was exhausted. They were still in playoff season and with the superbowl drawing near and the NFL awards she had a lot of assignments. She was so looking forward to another vacation she desperately needed.

While she was practically falling asleep at her desk, her cubicle partner was on his phone scrolling for the latest updates. Taylor was pretty set for her NFL update show but you never knew if something exciting dropped. The fun part of journalism.

"I see Emmaunel Acho is being an ass again." He huffed as he was looking at his phone. "Oh god what is his hot take now?" Taylor rolled her eyes. "He's attacking Herbert for his private life now. Saying he's a celebrity QB."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What on earth Is he talking about? Justin is one of the most private guys in the league." Her partner laughed. "Really Taylor? You're the one that keeps up with this gossip. You're constantly on social media!"

"I've just been focusing on NFL news regarding the playoffs. The only news I've heard on the Chargers is that they fired Joe Lombardi. I don't care about thier personal life." It was a lie, but Taylor hadn't been on social media due to news coverage and preparing for the awards.

"Well it was just revealed not too long ago that Herbert is seeing Sara Wozniak." Taylor's face paled. "What? That's probably just a rumor." He shook his head. "No, there are photos and her rep confirmed it. Apparently it's been a thing since July 2022." Taylor got up, she was going to be sick. While the thought did pop up in her head, she really didn't think that Justin would actually date her. Not to mention July? She thought back to that night that he came over to her house after the injury in October. He was there eating, laughing, and even exchanging flirting. It was only when she tried to take it to the bedroom did he suddenly have a conscience?

"That motherfucker." She whispered. While she was mad, truth be told she was impressed that he did manage to land someone like her. But that didn't mean he was allowed to get away with this.

She was going to hurt him the way he had hurt her.

She just had to find a way to get to Sara

—----------------------------------------------------------- Twitter

EmmanuelAcho: for someone who is so private he certainly is embracing the Social Media Quarterback role. Now we see why he took a step back

Twitteruser1: I thought he was with Biscotti, who was he out with? If he is seeing Sara, who is the blonde?

Sarafan: @/saracwozniak Justin is cheating on you sis. Two timing scumbag

Sarafan2: imagine dating Sara Wozniak and two timing her with some old granny

Twitteruser2: city Boys up a million! Always have a main and side ho

Yall know she isn't going to see this. She hasn't been on twitter in weeks

FANS THINK SARA WONZIAK NEW BOYFRIEND IS TWO TIMING HER WITH NFL REPORTER

Sarafan: Taylor Biscotti turned off her Twitter replies.

Tumblr.

Guys I have a thousand messages in my inbox I can't answer. Yes apparently its true Justin is seeing Sara. That's all I know. Idk anything about Taylor, although I will say it makes no sense because of twitter and her seemingly giving confirmation.

Justin Herbert and Sara Wozniak are still trending on social media

Did yall see her reaction to people asking about a special guest supporting her on the fashion show? She was giddy.

Time will tell if we see him there.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It was electric, and exciting. Sara understood why her model friends were addicted to this. The lights, the glam, and the fashion. In some weird way, it calmed her nerves. They group took pictures, Rihanna surprised everyone by giving them gifts sets with sentimental items. After speaking with her Sara never felt so confident in herself. As she was wearing her first outfit of the night, a sparkly bra with matching panties and garter belt she was ready and eager to see Justin in the crowd. He still hadn't messaged her anything but she didn't think about it.

Her family had sent her a good luck message and she couldn't help but be a little bitter at the fact that it was always this way since she was a kid. Good luck and see you after the show was their usual response. Her mom did say they would be watching and that they needed to talk and Sara knew what was going to happen, Katie had messaged her with a 'stop ignoring us, you have a lot of explaining to do and moms going crazy on her cruise.'

All Sara messaged in response was that she would explain later. Right now she didn't want to focus on that. She wanted to nail her walks and see Justin after.

"5 minutes! Everyone line up in places." As the girls got into place, stylist for doing the last and final touches. As her hair was being touched up and the designers were picking at her outfits she gave an excited smile to AnnSophie, who would be opening the show. They all heard the cheers of the crowd outside the curtain as the movie introduction was played. Bella turned around and placed both gloved hands on the side of her friend's face. "Breathe Bitch." Sara smiled. "Is that for me or you?" "Both'' the girls giggled. Sara looked down at her 'O' ring on her right hand. Twisting it slightly she smiled at it. Remembering the night he gave it to her. She took a deep breath as she watched AnnSophie walk out on the stage.

One by one she watched the models ahead of her walk up. "Okay when Bella hits the midpoint walk out and keep a steady pace." She nodded and when she saw Bella hit the part she got up and exited to the stage.

The crowd cheered as she stepped out and began walking to the beat of the music. She tried to steal a couple of glances at the audience but she would have no idea where he would be sitting. As she reached the end of the runway she blew a kiss and held it for the photographers. As soon as she turned her back to walk to the set she began to frantically look, she saw AnnSophie and Bella's mom smiling at her and she returned it. But she had no idea where the NFL players would be.

There wasn't any time to think or breathe once backstage because the stylist was already there making her disrobe behind a curtain and putting her in the next set. This would be the football portion, and Rihanna would be singing herself. As she changed and the makeup artists got to work she looked over at Erika "anything on my phone?" She shook her head no with a frown. "Have you seen him?"

"I haven't heard anything so far. He probably will sneak in, just to cause less attention."

As she switched into the Chargers tank, the artist drew a bolt on her face. As quickly as she came in she was rushed out to walk again. The noise became louder as she came out.

Social media was having a field day

Sara showing support for the Chargers!

Maybe they will finally have fans!

Awww so cute! I wonder if he is there

She's such an attention whore, she did this on purpose she leaked her whole relationship like Hanna did. I know Herb isn't happy.

Look at the ring on her finger; it's the Oregon logo.

When Sara posed she did the heart symbol. I hope he sees this she thought as she came back. She laughed at AnnSophie as she was clad in Kansas City Chiefs gear. "I don't know alot about the NFL" her friend admitted

As she was in the back on her break she was dancing with Jordan when 'Rude boy' began playing. Bella and Sara took photos with the others

BellaHadid on Instagram

With the baddest put together by the baddest. Everyone congratulate @/SaraCWozniak on her debut. I love you!

Sara had a few changes before the end. As she did her final walk with the others to close she did one last look with no success.

Once they wrapped up it was time to go to the after party. As she saw everyone hugging friends and family she kept looking. After twenty minutes and more of the room clearing out she went in search and found the stage manager. "Excuse me, do you have the guest list?" She nodded, starstruck that someone was speaking to her so kindly. "Yes I can pull it up."

"Is Justin Herbert confirmed?" She went through her iPad a few times. "It says he accepted his ticket but he hasn't checked in. He was marked as a no show."

Sara shook her head. "He wouldn't do that. Check again."

"Miss Wozniak. He would have been with the NFL section and it was cleared out a while ago. Before the show ended."

"Sara! There you are! We are running late. Your limo with your party is waiting. "Come on, we have to get you ready for the after party!" She let herself be dragged away.

Tears were now streaming down her face as she recognized the all too familiar feeling. Suddenly she was twelve years old and feeling lost watching all of her castmates be congratulated and hugged by friends and family while she had to wait for a text telling her to find a ride.

"Okay Sara- oh my god are you crying! We have to redo your makeup. Oh my god we are running behind now." She pulled her arm out of the stylist and ran off.

Deumoxi

Word on the catwalk is that this A list was stood up by her NFL star boyfriend who didn't show up to this big televised event.

A/N Don’t hate me too much

#Justin Herbert #Alexa writies Collide #NFL imagine #Los Angeles Chargers

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untethereddreams · 2 years

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Stone Soup

[Story starts below the ~~~ if you wanna skip the commentary/updates]

Guess who finally had enough spoons to type up the second sample story for the translation project! First story can be found here. If you want to be tagged for future updates please interact with the original project post or comment/message me to be added to the list! I seem to be on an up-swing right now so hopefully the first new translation piece, based on the stories behind the 36 Military Tactics collection of folk knowledge, will be done soon!

This story was another piece I wrote that was intended for oral storytelling at a specific event, hence the mention of a menu. I could have reworked the intro to cut that out but it would have taken more spoons than I have at the moment. Since this was intended as a performance piece the pacing and wording is a bit different from my purely written works. Still, it’s a story from my childhood that I'm excited to share with you all (historical accuracy not guaranteed, I’m literally telling it the way I remember it)

~~~

When I first saw that stone soup was on the menu it stuck with me: I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the more I thought about it the more I knew that there was a different story I needed to tell, a story about a different kind of soup and how it led to the creation of a city.

Growing up, I’ve only heard one person, my father, tell this story, and it is in fact a tale told only by the inhabitants of my home town Xining, the capital of Qinghai, a province caught between Mongolia and Tibet. Until very recently it was an out-of-the-way place renowned only for its proximity to other things, so you can imagine what it was like a long, long time ago, before the city’s creation, all the way back in the Ming dynasty when this story takes place.

It was the Emperor’s birthday and the capital city of Nanjing was gearing up for a celebration like no other. Everywhere you looked decorations abounded and delicious smells permeated the streets. What you didn’t see were the brightest inhabitants of each street, for they were shut away, wracking their brains in secrecy for the glory of their neighborhood. The Emperor had declared that there shall be a Picture Puzzle contest in his honour and every street and neighborhood in the city was to participate. He, his Empress, and his concubines would judge the entries and the winner would receive honour beyond imagine.

One by one, the streets hung up their puzzles and government officials and peasants alike thronged the streets, gawking and guessing at solutions. Soon, one puzzle in particular drew the Emperor’s attention, but what rained down upon its creators was not honour but retribution, for all the Emperor saw in that clever, colourful painting were insults against his beloved Empress. Back then Emperors were akin to Gods, and the wrath of a God is a terrible thing indeed. In his rage, he ordered the entire street banished to the hinterlands at the very borders of the kingdom.

That night, as the oblivious city celebrated around them, every body on that street, no matter how young or old, packed what they could carry and fled from the guards. Fled from their homes. And so, they began their shameful journey to the end of their world and beyond.

It was a long, arduous journey across increasingly desolate landscapes. They sought help whenever they could, but people were wary of drawing the Emperor’s wrath so help was few and far between. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and as the miles piled on snow began to fall. Soon, it was Chinese New Year Eve, the biggest celebration of the year, full of light and warmth and hope: foreign concepts now to this ragged band of unfortunates. Soul-weary and despairing, they huddled around a tiny fire and began to give up.

But as the children began to cry, the adults roused themselves. They all still had to eat. Someone produced a pot; they stuffed it full of snow and set it to boil. Someone else found their last hunk of dried meat and dropped it inside. One by one, the people gave what little they had to the pot, and as they watched the dancing flames and steam their spirits rose and they were, for that night, creatures of light and warmth and hope once more.

They shared the soup just as they shared their hardships, and when the fire died and dawn broke the horizon the warmth remained. Eventually they came to the foot of the Himalayas, the end of an almost 2000 km trek, and settled there. That settlement became a town, the town became a city, and the city became a metropolis, but those first families never forgot. Every New Years they would gather, make that soup again, and pass on the story of that darkest night, but though they were now warmer and their ingredients richer they could never match the taste of that first pot of soup.

#translation #retelling #storytelling #my writing #stone soup #chinese storytelling #chinese history #history #culture #future projects #oral storytelling #writeblr #retellings #translation project #legend #chinese new year

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ask-modern-demon · 1 year

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// Yo, so...long time no see huh? As you can tell by the format of this post, this is going to be another vent post type of deal. I feel bad that it's not something like "Yo! Guess who's back to rping with my inky modern boi again?!" but my spark to rp Modern has kind of just been...as dead and dormant as it's ever been, I apologize about that. I'm kind of just making this post for the sake of the fact that I kind of just want to write out these feelings I've had for quite awhile (a few months actually) that I've just never wrote out till now.

I was going to write out how I've been feeling since the last vent post I've made but decided against it as I was just like 'there's probably no point in speaking on it and yada yada yada" So I'm just gonna write it all out here so it can...maybe lift a lot of it off my shoulders? I don't know.

So, I've been on Tumblr for quite a long time, since 2014 to be exact. My first blog was kind of just a blog where a young me just liked and reblogged a bunch of random shit, nothing too spectacular. I then started getting into rping a bit after though, I was pretty shit at it at first but that was what helped me grow to be as good at writing as I am now (If I can even consider my rps up to this point 'good writing' lol)

After my first blog, I soon went on to create two more blogs, @ask-funfred-and-bon-blog/@ask-funtimefred-and-bon-blog and this blog that became the origins of my modern inky boi. I made a few more rp blogs after these but I feel like these two were the ones I enjoyed writing for the most and probably had the biggest impact on me.

Through these blogs, I had made a good amount of friends on here, I was never the real friend magnet irl so to have friends who enjoyed to have me around just as much as I enjoyed their own presence (even though we all lived miles away from each other) really made me happy. I had even made a whole Discord server just for me and a ton of my other Tumblr buds to just hang out.

However, irl shit started to catch up with me and it flipped my mental health into a loop. I never spoke about these specific things with them as I kind of had this mindset of: "Oh! They probably have a ton of shit they're going through too! Shouldn't burden them with my troubles! I'll just wait things out and things should work through!"

However, that was quite the opposite and it didn't really get no better, and due to these troubles my own spark for rping began to dwindle little by little, I even got this weird ass idea where I was like "I'm gonna make this really awesome storyline that brings every character from my blogs together and I'll end it off with a really awesome ending and then quit rping for good!" Which, news flash, it was shit, don't even try to look for it, I think I even deleted it due to how bad and cringe it was. Think that's just one of those moments where you look back at something you made and think...Damn, what was I thinking when I made this?

Eventually, things became too much and I kind of just...vanished from Tumblr. I deleted my old Discord that I had created so any contact I had with my old Tumblr friends had vanished and I just overall stopped posting. At that point I was like, this is it, I'll never touch this site again, I'm done rping for good.

After that, I kind of just went on with my life until a few years down the line I had felt that spark for rping chime back in me once again. I had made maybe like...one or two new blogs for characters I was interested in rping with and even came back here to write for Modern again. However, the spark soon faded out once more, and it was just a constant cycle of write and don't write and write and don't write.

There then became a point where I'd find myself looking back at old threads I'd wrote with some of my old Tumblr buds, people who I had long stopped talking to at that point since by the time I returned they had either deactivated by then or just left their blog to rot and moved on to another, some were even still active but it had been so long that I'm not even sure they would want to speak to me after so long.

I started to just be like...damn, if I had just talked about my issues back then, I would still have those people in my friend group, I wouldn't feel as alone as I've been feeling, I missed the way things used to be way back then, sometimes I wonder if that's a stupid thing to think.

A good chunk of these friends I had managed to get back in touch with due to me making another Discord, but not only was I too scared to just...send a message when I had them friended, but the friends I managed to have a convo with...didn't really seem too interested in talking to me (Which isn't their fault at all, they aren't obligated to talk to me as that would just make me feel bad ^^'')

And now I'm here...writing this whole thing out because I'm kind of just tired of thinking and feeling these things when I come back here so I just want to write them all out and be done with it.

If you read all the way to the end, you really didn't have to ^^'' but I appreciate it nonetheless. I hope you have a wonderful and blessed day and yeah...Yen signing out!

#ooc: out of ink #{TW: Vent}

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theghostpinesmusic · 8 months

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youtube

Seeing as how I haven't done a music-related write-up for a bit and how it's currently 4:30pm and therefore too late in the day to start on another work-related project of actual substance...I'm going to tell you about this version of "Bathtub Gin" that I like!

As I said (threatened?) in my last Goose post, I'm consciously branching out a little between now and whenever the hell the next Goose show will be. In my own personal listening, "branching out" means I've been listening to a lot of stuff I've never heard before, both stuff that's totally new to me and stuff that's been sitting ignored on my "Try this!" list for a long time. In my blog writing, "branching out" apparently means "writing about the band I've listened to the most by an entire order of magnitude for the last twenty-five years."

Hey, if I can't be perfect I'm sure as hell going to stop trying.

I am not going to start this post with a primer on Phish because a) if you're reading this you either already know them or you don't know them and don't care, and b) there are literal books about this out there because these guys have been playing for forty years and every little thing they do is steeped in weird mythology and inside jokes and as much as I love all of it, I don't love it enough to write a hundred thousand words about it.

If you're somehow entirely new to the band and also feel an obsessive need to learn/dive in, my super idiosyncratic recommendation is to listen to their album A Live One a few times, and then buy and read through this very short book by Walter Holland, who in my humble opinion is sort of like the Hunter S. Thompson of writing about Phish jams.

I will henceforth only be writing in the micro- and macro-cosms about this particular version of Phish's "Bathtub Gin" and my reactions to it, despite not being the Hunter S. Thompson of writing about Phish jams.

Biologically speaking, I almost certainly, technically have THC in my bloodstream right now if that somehow makes you feel better.

So, Phish was one of the first places I turned at the beginning of this little Goose hiatus. For a lot of reasons, despite being the band that most immediately jumps to my mind when the phrase "favorite ever" is used in a variety of contexts, I haven't listened to Phish much over the last few years. I wrote a little bit about why in this previous post, and to keep my promise of staying focused and save myself some time typing, I won't say any more for the moment: suffice to say that I overdid it a little bit with The Phish and The Phish's Internet Fandom, which soured me on the band's music and left me sitting on the sidelines for years, wondering if it was the band that had come, over time, to suck ass, or whether it was just me.

Well, I'm relieved to report that it was, in fact, me who was doing the ass-sucking.

I learned this, in large part, by diving into the band's recent New Year's Eve (NYE) run at Madison Square Garden (MSG). I actually started my Goose Interregnum concert-viewing here only because the run had just ended and I'd seen online that the band had played all the way through its storied, elusive, and utterly dorky "Gamehendge" saga on 12/31, for the first time since 1994 (or maybe 1995, kill me in the comments Phish fans, I'm ready to die).

I wanted to see this, even if after the fact and from my couch, because back in my early Phish fan-Hood (see what I did there?) Gamehendge had been a big part of what drew me to the band, and I was excited by the prospect of being a grown-ass, middle-aged man bawling his eyes out on his basement couch because in a video another old man was on a stage singing a song about a bulldog and a cat fighting to the death while a comet crashed into Earth, bringing about the end times.

When you're a straight, white kid growing up in suburbia, you either become an absolute monster or your brain finds really fucking weird things to care a lot about. I like to think I fit into the second category.

Anyway, with a more-than-usual amount of spare time on my hands, I decided to try watching the entire MSG NYE run, starting with 12/28 instead of jumping straight to 12/31. I thought, maybe, I'd have a decently fun time and get a good sense of where Phish was at musically (an important thing to know when all the band members are sixty-ish years in age and you haven't heard or seen them play since 2021). Then I watched 12/28 and it destroyed me. Like, this band of aging dork-rockers literally lit the entire arena on fire with their instruments and it burned down around them while they just kept jamming. I'm not sure how anyone escaped MSG alive, let alone how there were concerts there for the next three nights.

12/29 was just as good, if not better, and 12/30 was an incredible show that only paled in comparison to the previous two. My reaction surprised me, and so that's why I cranked up the ol' typing machine, shoveled some fresh coal into the boiler, and sat down to write about...wait, what was I actually writing about, again?

Oh, yeah. "Bathtub Gin."

I'm not gonna give you a lengthy history of this song, for all the same reasons I cited above for not giving you a long history of Phish as a band. I will tell you it's a "classic" Phish song in that it was played live for the first time in 1989 and has been played three hundred and four more times in the one thousand, seven-hundred and fifty-one shows the band has played since. There also a studio recording of it on Lawn Boy, which I always forget because who the fuck listens to Lawn Boy?! The song is used frequently, but not always, as a jam vehicle, and I tend to enjoy hearing it live due to its quintessentially Phish-y sound: Phish writes and plays songs that sound a lot like many of their influences, but they also have songs that sound only like Phish, and this is one of them. Well, it sounds like Phish and Gerswhin, I suppose. "Bathtub Gin" is also my wife's favorite Phish song, but I'm not entirely sure if that's because she likes it or because she knows that liking "Waste" or "Shade" or "Farmhouse" more would put her firmly in the "Stereotypical Phish Wife" realm.

This 12/28 version of the tune is a great one for jamming, but as usual I'll (mostly) refrain from commenting until the point in the video where the composed portion of the song leaves off and the improvisation begins.

I do want to start by saying I love the retro feel of this year's "Live Phish" intro/logo sequence. Also, yes, Page's opening keyboard banging is supposed to sound like that. It's how he lets you know he's having fun! Gershwin tease at 2:26 if you're keeping track. Otherwise, this is a pretty straightforward reading of the composed part of the song. I absolutely love the sound mix here, as you can hear all four members' contributions to the song more or less equally. It blows the old days of tapes essentially mixed to make Trey's guitar 80% of the band's sound out of the water. It also leads to me basically just listening to Mike Gordon play bass for the entire show because if you can, why wouldn't you?!

It often sounds like the band might be singing actual, English lyrics during the outro portion of the song, but I don't think they ever are.

The jam starts at 4:50, and basically immediately Fishman is playing stuff on the drums that my simple brain can barely comprehend. This is perhaps one significant difference between Phish and the Goose jams I've been covering previously: the rhythm section of Phish is much more directly involved in the direction of the band's improvisation, whereas it often feels like the drums and bass of Goose are just laying a foundation for the melody players to improvise over. One is not inherently better than the other, but I do often feel like there's a lot more to listen to with Phish, despite them having fewer members.

Anyway, this first chunk of the jam feels a lot to me like being lost in a fuzzy, pleasant labyrinth: the tempo is slow and the playing is soft, but there's an undercurrent of tension there. By 5:30, things have started to straighten out a little, though the lights have gotten absolutely weird. Fishman starts playing a more straightforward beat, and the rest of the band falls into a rock-sounding jam that makes me think of what Goose might sound like if their fingers were thirty years older.

Trey starts to sit back a little bit at 6:45, and the jam mellows out in response. It feels a little bit like he can't figure out where he wants to go next here, but Mike and Page take some turns adding ideas to the mix in the meantime. Eventually, Trey joins back in the fun, but still in a restrained way. For awhile here, everyone's just sort of playing together, with no particular standout or soloist, which is great.

Whatever keyboard tone Page switches to at 8:58 is fantastic. He follows it up pretty quickly with some weirder synthesizer stuff, and at 9:40 this pushes the jam in a more sinister direction. At 10:20, Trey switches over to a very Portal To Robot Hell guitar effect, and now we're in full-on latter-day Evil Phish jamming territory. Fishman is, of course, keeping a beat here, but it's odd and off-kilter (not a drummer, sorry to be imprecise) and makes the whole thing feel like it's just barely hanging together in the best way.

This kind of "almost-falling-apart" sound is, paradoxically, when Phish often hits their stride in jamming. I think it's what makes them sort of a love/hate proposition even among people who listen to a lot of improvisatory rock music. It's not particularly fun or comfortable, but I've never come across another group of musicians that can improvise with each other consistently in this way.

Trey's playing finally comes a bit to the fore starting at 13:00, but even here this doesn't feel like a rote jam "peak": instead, the backbeat that Fishman is playing keeps things feeling a little out of sorts and not entirely resolved. Trey and Page playing off of each other at 14:15 is nice. I'm not sure what's going on with the lights at 14:30, but I do know these guys consistently have my favorite light show in show business. There's some almost Allman Bros-sounding playing from Trey at 15:15 as we reaching peak craziness...

...then some initial teasing of the "Bathtub Gin" theme at 16:30 or so, teasing a return to the song proper to wrap things up!

The video fades out on a segue into what would turn out to be an excellent version of "Ghost," for those keeping score at home.

Anyway, thanks for reading my first (at least lately) Phish write-up. I'm going to try to do a few more of these from the run, including (I think) two new songs: "Oblivion" from 12/29 and "Life Saving Gun" from 12/30. Should have those up soon!

#phish #jams #jam bands #music #videos #writing #live music #Youtube

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somevagrantchild · 2 years

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The Ballroom Ceiling mural

Everyone talks about how Marius “forgot” to include Daniel on the giant ballroom ceiling mural he paints at the end of Blood Communion, but Daniel is far from the only “big” character in the chronicles not mentioned as being up there! I’ve personally always accepted the people missing from the mural as an oversight (or deliberate choice??) of Anne Rice in the writing of the scene, not actual canon that Marius didn’t paint them. In my head they’re all up there, Lestat just didn’t tell us for some reason. But who is “all” you ask?

Racking my brain (so I’ve probably missed some, let me know if you remember anyone else and I’ll edit the post to add!), here’s all the named vampires who I can think of as not being mentioned in the mural--even though Lestat took the time to tell us that all of Fareed&Flannery’s random scientists and Notker’s 245834 boy sopranos were up there...And people like Eric?? And Laurent?? Anne remembered to include them, but she did not mention:

The Forgotten:

Thorne Antoine Nicolas Arjun Daniel Santino Merrick Roland Baudwin Felix Everard Killer Baby Jenks Davis Quinn Petronia Mona Manfred Hesketh, though she’s possibly included in the “Other Children of the Millenia” section Lestat mentions...and maybe we can say this section includes Petronia, Baudwin, and Roland and even Thorne too (but I doubt it)

People actually mentioned as being in the mural: Akasha Enkil Khayman Mekare Maharet Santh Gregory Seth Cyril Teskhamen Rhoshamandes Benedict Allesandra Magnus Notker ”A cluster of his singers” Sevraine Eudoxia Avicus Zenobia Marius Pandora Flavius Eric Mael Chrysanthe Arion “Other Children of the Millenia--some new to Court and some known only in legend” Armand Bianca Gabrielle Eleni Eugenie Laurent Fontayne Louis Claudia David Benji Sybelle Jesse Rose Viktor Flannery Fareed “Other blood drinker physicians and scientists” Barbara Alain Lestat

FUN FACT! I have an ebook version of Blood Communion on my phone that I’ve had for years and don’t even remember where I got it from. I thought it was just the regular book--BUT it must have been an ARC copy because my book has an earlier version of the mural description that does NOT include Gabrielle, Teskhamen, Notker, or Notker’s boy sopranos. So now we know that Anne wrote the description, then remembered about those characters later, and then went back and added them in for the final version of the book. And yet...she still didn’t include the other 16 vampires that list at the top of this post 😅 And whatever this e-ARC I have is, it’s different from SOME of the the print ARCs that were released, because there are print versions that have the scene the same as mine and others with the final version of the scene.

Gabby, Tesk, and Notker got remembered and added back in, but not Nicki or Daniel??

I could say that I can see why the minor Fang Gang characters from Queen of the Damned wouldn’t be included--if it wasn’t for the fact that Eric was included?? and Laurent?? Killer became a recurring character in TWO more books, and Davis survived to become Gregory’s companion; what did Laurent ever do to get remembered but not them?? And I could say I can see why the Blackwood Farm characters weren’t included, because of what Anne once said when Prince Lestat was coming out, about the witch crossover books not being part of canon anymore for the new book--except she clearly changed her mind about this by the time she wrote Atlantis and made Arion an enduring character and had Lestat actively grieving Quinn and Mona. And we could say maybe Arjun, Santino, Baudwin, and Roland weren’t included because they’re dead and Marius doesn’t like them, enemies of the court and all...except Eudoxia and Rhoshamandes are up there, so??? And as random and painful as it is for fan-favorite Daniel not to be included, he’s not even mentioned in Blood Communion, so I can see why he’d get overlooked. But there’s absolutely no excuse for why Thorne, Antoine, and Everard aren’t up there, as they’re part of the very book in question and physically IN the scene with the rest of the court looking at the mural as it’s being described 😆

Yeah, so it’s not a question of “why.” We know why. Authors make mistakes, and Anne was notoriously opposed to editors assisting with the content of her books. I don’t read any canon “reason” into the missing characters not being in the mural. In my head, they’re all actually up there, and Marius is far too Good At What He Does to have neglected to include them himself.

But I have created this post in commemoration of all the characters who did not get honored on the page. We remember them!

#vampire chronicles #anne rice #blood communion #daniel molloy

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cherrykindness · 3 years

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wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

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imaginesforhotguys · 3 years

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Masterlist

An updated Master list for all the stuff I have written so far. I will update every time I post something new.

Request are still opened and encouraged! The shows and people I write for are in my bio!

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Bucky get the phone: You have to make sure that your home in time for the phone call from your doctor.

My Name's Bucky: Bucky doesn't get why you are throwing knives at him.

Nervous: Bucky can't figure out how to tell you his feeling so he just sleeps on your floor.

Half My Heart: you get hurt on a mission before Bucky is able to tell you how he feels.

New York New York: Bucky meets a stone cold New York girl…or does he?

You Know Me: Bucky goes missing and there is nothing you won’t do to get him back.

To Little To Late Bucky needs to tell you something that just may break both your hearts.

Complicated: When Captain America comes to get Bucky after the bombing the last thing he was expecting was to find you there.

маргаритка: There is only one person who can break you from your trance of destruction.

Steve Rogers

Promise: You met someone unexpected at Remembrance Park

Peter Parker

I Met Spiderman: You tell Peter about your interesting conversation on Saturday night.

You Can Always Make Me Laugh: Peter can always count on you to make him laugh even when the situation isn't great

Euphoria

Fezco

News Year's Eve: At the party things get a little out of hand but don't worry Fez is to the rescue.

Sons of Anarchy

Jax

Maybe A Little To Protective: You have a slight over reaction at some girl talking about your man.

A New Member Of The Family: Jax bringing your two kids to the hospital to see you and the new baby.

Wrong Place Wrong Time: You accidentally got shot because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Packing: You have had enough of the crow eaters and decide that you need to leave…for now.

Opie

Fist Fight: Opie does what he has to do to protect you.

Worth it : Opie tells Jax that he is dating you, his younger sister, and it ends just as he thought it would...both of them bloody and smiling.

Chibs

Babies: You and Chibs are on babysitting duty.

Bait: Chibs hating the idea of using you as bait for a sting.

Won't happen again: Chibs gets mad when a routine visit goes south.

The Walking Dead

Daryl

Kidnapped: Daryl and you getting kidnapped by the whisperers.

And They Were Roommates: You and Daryl moving in together.

Glenn

Word Vomit: Bumping into Rick and his group while out scavenging and meet a guy name Glenn who can't seem to shut up.

Rick

I Had No Idea LONGER STORY

Negan

Over It: You have just about had enough with Negan and his weekly visits to Alexandria.

Reunited: Being reunited with Negan after the attack at the fair.

WWE

Dean Ambrose

Butt Dial: Butt dialing Dean while he is on tv.

Stay Away: A match goes sideways.

I Wouldn't Miss it for the World

Part 1

Part 2

Poor Timing: Dean asking Seth if he has a chance with you. Just not at the right time.

On My Block

Spooky

Enough: Spooky takes matters into his own hands.

Halloween: Spooky coming to your rescue at the Halloween Party.

Treat You Better: Spooky not liking the way people are treating you.

Descendents

Jay

Pink Hair Don't Care: Being the daughter of Hades and dating Jay and finding it very hard to hide the fact that you’re mad at him.

Harry

Chaos: You and Harry causing chaos at Auradon Prep.

Nervous Little Pirate: Harry getting nervous seeing you in the halls of Auradon Prep.

Stranger Things

Billy

Drive Back Home: Billy driving home from dropping you off after your first date with a stupid grin on his face.

Other People I Write For Not Based On Shows

Jason Momoa

Facetime Call: Facetiming your husband Jason with your daughter while he is on set.

Interview:Jason getting nervous during an interview because they keep bringing you up. *I cannot believe that I wrote a story with Amber Heard I'm disgusted*

Henry Cavill

Beauty

You're Joking Right: Henry getting mad when another guy has the crazy idea of asking you, his girlfriend, out.

And I Oop: Henry embarrassing himself when he meets you for the first time on set.

Youtuber: Henry getting a little irritated by your constant vlogging.

Shows I No Longer Write For

Harry Potter

Sibling Rivalry: Both the Weasley twins being into and they begin to fight over which one gets to ask you out.

The Outsiders

Family Time: Dally being nervous about meeting your family for the first time.

336 notes · View notes

piratefalls · 3 years

Text

all rec lists can be found on the master list here. i also take requests!

FOUR DAYS FOUR DAYS FOUR DAYS I’M NOT GONNA MAKE IT.

found the place to rest my head by markofalover

It’s just them. And it’s right, and goddammit, his own voice comes back to him, taunting.

I get taking things slow. But tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.

If you love him, tell him.

...or, Eddie tells him.

to let you know why by thatbuddie

The piece of paper sits innocently on Buck’s kitchen table, Eddie’s name written in Buck’s big and bold handwriting. The table is bare save for the paper, and maybe that’s why Eddie’s sole attention is focused on it. The five letters call dangerously to him, and Eddie’s hand reaches out, his fingertips tracing the first letter of his own name.

Eddie, Buck wrote, and as hard as Eddie tries he can’t remember the last time Buck actually said the word out-loud. The thought burns.

This Could be Our Year; Don't Let Go of my Hand by allisonRW96

After a routine call at the studio of a wealthy, eccentric fashion designer, the 118 find themselves invited to a masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve.

Buck thinks it will be a perfect time to kiss Eddie. Eddie thinks it will be the perfect time to kiss Buck.

Someone else has more sinister plans.

double pinky promise by lilythesilly

“At first I thought I could just drop her off with Chim and then take a break or something. But when he wasn’t there,” Maddie sighs. “I figured it was a sign.”

A sign for what? Buck wants to ask. But Maddie is being dodgy in a way she hasn’t been in years, so he has to. “A sign for what?”

“It’s what mother’s who can’t take care of their babies do right?” Maddie looks down and bites her lip. “Drop them off at fire stations?”

The pieces are slowly coming together. The way her voice is cool and even but she can’t stand still. Why she’s here alone. Why she won’t look him in the eye. The feeling in his chest is familiar, but instead of reading it in a letter he’s seeing it happen in real time.

“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question. --

Buck talks to Maddie, and then he goes to Eddie’s. Post 5x03.

the wood marked for your fire by hattalove

“Chim. Weird question?”

Chimney’s chair creaks. Buck cranes his head over the back of the couch and watches him straighten up, pop his back, close the folder.

“You only ever ask me weird questions,” he says, and then crosses the loft to sit in one of the armchairs. He levels Buck with a look that’s way too knowing for the amount of words they’ve exchanged. “What’s up?”

He takes a breath.

“What does it feel like to be a dad?”

in which buck is used to wanting things he's not allowed to have; it's just that he never thought being a father would be one of them.

but your face is still my favourite view by wafflesofdoom

“You’ve got a photo of me in your wallet.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that he just – carried a photo of Buck around in his wallet, as though Buck’s entire world wasn’t spinning at a thousand miles per hour as he tried to process the fact that Eddie loved him enough to carry around a photo of him in his wallet.

or - the one where eddie takes a polaroid of buck and keeps it in his wallet, and buck finds out.

the dancer's dance by withoutthetiger

"They make it less than a mile before Eddie points to a bar with a half-full parking lot. It’s early enough that they’ve beat the Saturday night crowd and it’ll be nice to carry on an actual conversation while they have a drink or two. It feels like forever since they’ve gone out like this, and Eddie thinks it nearly was, the past year a more complicated challenge to their friendship than he could have imagined.

But Eddie’s been back at work for a few weeks now, Bobby welcoming him back without hesitation, and spring is on the horizon, a change that feels especially important this year, even if Southern California seasons hardly matter at all.

And this night with Buck – well, maybe it’ll change something, too."

*****

Set in the spring of 2022, after Eddie is back with the 118.

we can’t fight gravity (love is like falling) by alasse

Eddie is an actor (a former child star of a major franchise who only does weird indie movies nowadays), and Buck is still a firefighter. The universe screams at them a few times—through a tsunami, an unfortunate misunderstanding, and an emergency at a movie set—until they finally get it together.

so come inside and be with me by evanito

He knows he can’t let it go—let Buck go. When he invited Buck into his life—his home, his bed, his heart—he did so with the knowledge that he would never let him leave. Him and Buck are a forever thing. Nothing’s going to change that.

Except, maybe, for the fact that that Buck isn’t here.

...

(or: dough is made. questions are asked. sex is had.)

white lights in your arms tonight by soyxunxperdedor

Buck crowds in next to him, wrapping his shirt around the debris and then pressing down to staunch the flow of blood Eddie now realizes is oozing out around it. He squints at the debris, trying to identify it.

“Guess Chim’s not going to be the only rebar boy anymore,” he jokes when he realizes that’s what it is.

not yet (but someday soon) by intotheblue

Eddie’s instinct is to deflect, but he’d promise Buck and himself to talk about the things that bother him so– “You keep telling everyone you love them,” he blurts.

Buck’s brow furrows, and he takes a step back. “And that’s… a bad thing?”

“No, god, of course not,” Eddie says, catching Buck’s wrist and tugging softly until Buck steps back into his space. “I just…”

A small frown appears on Buck’s lips. His head tips ever so slightly to the right. “Just what?” he asks.

“You keep telling everyone… except me.”

(Or: Buck starts throwing out casual 'I love you's to everyone except Eddie)

the truth is, the stars are falling by hopeintheashes

The thing is, for Eddie it doesn't seem that long.

boyfriend material by iphigenias

“On a scale of one to America, how free are you tonight?”

Or, Eddie blushes when Buck flirts with him. Buck's noticed.

(when it's you and i) i'm always home by lecornergirl

Eddie lets his hands slip lower until they’re under Buck’s waistband, just resting against the warm skin of his lower stomach. If he spread his fingers, his pinky would just reach the crease of his thigh. “I have an idea,” he breathes against Buck’s skin, against the spot just behind his ear.

“I’m in,” Buck says immediately, turning his head to press his lips to Eddie’s jaw.

“You don’t even know what my idea is.”

“Pretty sure I’m gonna be into it.”

“Oh, good,” Eddie says, pulling his hands free and taking a step back. “There’s so much laundry to fold.”

should have loved a thunderbird instead by rarakiplin

“Maddie, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Buck says, stepping closer so he can put one hand on the side of her head, press his mouth against her hair. She smells like fire. “But you need —”

“Eddie.”

Buck blinks. There’s a sudden tightness in his chest he can’t quite breath around. “What?” he says, but he thinks he knows.

“Eddie’s in there,” Maddie says, and her eyes are filling with tears. Chimney curses under his breath.

or, holy shit dispatch is on fire

i would like a place i could call my own by maybeamystery

Buck has no intention of ever bringing it up again, but there’s no way Eddie will remember this conversation in one hour, let alone a whole week.

He just wishes he could forget, too.

[Five parties Buck wishes he never attended and one he really wishes he did]

#buddie #rec list #fic rec #buddie rec list #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fanfiction #my rec list

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hey Steph,

First of all, I'd like to wish you a Happy New Year! <3

Secondly, I'd like to thank you for helping me to inspire myself to write the christmas fic I wrote (221B's Christmas Tree)!

Thirdly, I'd like to tell you that I have, in fact, turned it into a series and have just posted the second one in the series. It's called Cake is Mandatory (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36097531)! This likely wouldn't have happened if I hadn't inspired myself to write after asking for your fic recs so I owe you many thanks for that!

Happy New Year <3

Hi Lovely!!!

Happy new year, too!!

First, let's post the fic you're promoting on this ask:

Cake is Mandatory by SatanDrankMyCoffee (T, 3,219 w., 1 Ch. || New Year's Eve, Birthdays, Established Relationship, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Domestic Life, Party) – John Watson is relentless in his efforts to figure out when Sherlock's Birthday is. Will he ever find out? Part 2 of the A Year in Occasions series

Secondly, omg you're so welcome... I really don't feel like I did much for you guys, but honest to goodness, it warms my heart when you guys let me know that just a tiny little bit of inspiration seeps through to you guys <3 Here's the fic that Satan is talking about.

And finally, it's a pleasure to not only help support you guys, but to also unwittingly encourage new authors and inspire new stories. That's probably one of the most fulfilling things for me on this blog <3 I'm so happy!

Anyway, everyone, please go support this new story, and give them some kudos and love! <3

*HUGS* And please, no thanks is necessary, honestly. You continuing writing, when you can, is gift enough for me :)

Love y'all! <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #signal boost #satandrankmy coffee

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ifuckinglovestvincent · 4 years

Text

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

#‘I HAVE NO MEMORY OF IT’#LOOOOOL #WHY ARE U LIKE THIS #st vincent #full of shit #annie clark #Annie Clark on beds #yellow is the color for dull ache of bad penetration?

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wolfstar-supremacy-innit · 3 years

Text

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

#wolfstar #harry potter #hp #fanfic #marauders #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #mine #pining #friends to lovers #fluff #marauders era fic #marauders era #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #jilly #wolfstar fic

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