#took a two week break from updating and now im back :D | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

areweevercameraready · 1 year

Text

a little snippet...

A/N: so....i actually have...... maybe 100,000k words unpublished with the boys in human au.,.... and since the human au infodump, i've been wondering if i should post things from the spinoff au. i asked a friend and she suggested i post at least a bit since there Were Folks who enjoyed these characters. im hugging everyone who has been keeping up :') thank you and i love you and you don't know how much this means to me, that people like my work.

i do plan on updating more than beliefs, though as you can probably tell, updates are pretty slow. i've had big weird life changes over the past three or so years, which is kinda sad, since i used to be able to update chivalry literally once a week :'D but thank you all for sticking with me through it!! i'm hoping, once i'm done writing my thesis, i can get back to updating MTB more often. i've had the whole thing plotted in my head for a while and you all deserve to see more of macbeth, along with where he was during like. all of chivalry.

heads up that this is NOT going on AO3 — it's a bit far from the actual fandom space so I'm really hesitant to put it up there. it'll only be here! somewhat related, but i might spruce up this blog layout. the banner image is kind of old/i don't like the anatomy, and same with the icon. and i just took a look at the blog and went "wow the text is smaller than i remember it being..." so that's a sign that it's Too Small! time for a change probably.

Words: 7,615

WARNINGS: descriptions of anxiety disorder, descriptions of past child abuse, suicidal/depressive thoughts, someone's ankle breaks (don't run in heels, kids!), alcohol and drunkenness

if i forgot anything, please let me know! this is only one chapter of a longer thing (i'm still on the fence about posting all of it but frankly, if i do revamp this blog, i straight fuckin might. i don't plan on publishing these novels for market consumption, but i would be happy to know if folks out there enjoyed them :') )

enjoy the snippet! <3

Eric Yuan hadn't considered himself lovable in a long, long time.

The anxiety disorder was just scraping the surface. There was the legal battle he'd gone into against his parents for custody over Gavin. He was so responsible it was irresponsible, sleeping odd hours, sometimes none at all, and living off of the cheapest coffee he could find to keep himself awake. There was the lack of time, the long hours of work to pay for the apartment and his and Gavin's lives, between working at the bar and at the restaurant, trying to pull together something to keep them afloat. He survived off of lunch and, when tips were good, the occasional dinner.

Gavin had noticed, of course, but he was nice enough to not say anything. Eric tried to be as honest as he could about how sometimes they couldn't get new games or new things, how he would have to stay late at night at work. If Eric was thankful for anything, it was how understanding Gavin was. That kid rolled with as many punches as were thrown and while Eric knew he shouldn't have to, knew that his brother deserved a better upbringing than the shit that their parents and now the world were putting them through, he also recognized that this was the best he could do.

He tried to hide himself in work, two jobs that provided enough money to keep them going. Honestly, if he’d talked with his managers and budgeted hours differently, he could get by with just the bartending job. But the days without work were spent taking Gavin to school, watching Gavin at home, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He had to have something to bury himself in so he wouldn’t be stuck with his thoughts, the ones that promised danger, contempt, building paranoia and anxiety until he choked on his own breath. Thoughts that promised a kinder world. On the other side.

If he killed himself, Gavin would go right back to their parents, and Eric had to stay alive if only to prevent that. That was….that was the only reason.

Sometimes, he wondered if Gavin knew, because on nights like that the kid always managed to find his way into Eric's bed. He'd crawl in and snuggle between Eric's arms and tell him he had a nightmare. Eric never knew how honest he was being, but he never turned the offer down.

He had to keep alive. So he did.

And like, man worked a lot. Often, too much. How the fuck was he supposed to keep up with the world around him if he barely used his social media, didn't watch any of the new content put out in recent years, didn't engage with new platforms. Well, he had a Twitter, but that was just to look at funny memes. Those were his favorite development in recent years. Twitter also helped keep up with the news somewhat, but he didn’t exactly pay attention to that. Also, cat videos, those were important to him.

Yeah, he was fairly disconnected, but what else was new and what could you do.

Eric Yuan's life flipped when he was opening the bar at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. He wasn't an owner or manager, but he was a shift lead. The most dependable shift lead, if you asked his manager, and while he often told Eric that he was pretty reliable, it wasn’t as though Eric processed that kind of praise. He did know that he got the most done, and was the most efficient, because he could take that kind of metric comparison. But, like. Most reliable? He didn’t know how true that was. Eric liked to take the opening shifts, helped get home at a reasonable enough hour to see Gavin to sleep and for him to sleep enough to take the lunch shifts at his other job.

The opening shift consisted of a few things. Making sure dishes were racked for the night, that the trash was all arranged and the bins were out in the alley, that bottles that looked like they were going to go empty had restocks close by. It was slow and quiet, for shift leads, but it was perfect for Eric. He liked to turn on some music and walk around, working efficient and quick enough usually to have a few minutes of quiet before the bartenders started showing up.

The alley behind his bar was more like a driveway than anything, wide enough just for one car. Most of the time, the neighboring businesses would just put their bins back here during work hours.

While opening on this day, though, Eric noticed a man running. He'd turned the sharp corner near the bar and hurried partway down the block, panting as if he'd been running a while. Eric actually pulled his own bins back as the man passed him. Then promptly tripped. What idiot runs in heels, anyway?

The man tried to get back up, but a few steps proved his ankle injured enough for him to collapse again. And that's when he looked up, frantically looking around for help, and his eyes locked with Eric's.

Eric waved, ever so slightly. And, well. He's always been the type to help someone who needed it. He didn't know what the man was running from, but it seemed that time was of the essence. He jogged over and picked the man up easily, making sure he didn't grab the man's dreadlocks accidentally beneath his arm, and hurried him into the bar. At least the dude was pretty light, and he let Eric pick him up, wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders.

The first and only real thing Eric noticed was that he smelt a little floral. Must have been perfume or something. The man wasn’t wearing clothes that Eric would have called casual, especially with the heels. A fall like that must have hurt his ankle.

"Thank you," the man whispered, and Eric noticed how gentle his voice was, how lofty and warm. "Close the door, please, they can't see me."

Eric didn't know who the fuck "They" was, but Eric kicked the door closed on his way in. Just as he did, too, he heard the sound of footsteps at the end of the alley. Eric helped the man hide behind the bar, out of view of the door, and shushed him quietly as a knock sounded on the door.

He wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back towards the door. He paused before opening it only to prepare his face, so he could open it with the deadliest glare. And there were. People. There. Were many people. Many with cameras. All looking fairly out of breath.

How did that guy outrun a whole ass crowd?

The man who had knocked was haggard, taller than Eric but with an obviously lankier build, wheezing as he asked, “Have you seen anyone come up this road?”

He sounded kinda desperate. Eric shook his head slowly, cogs working in his head as he put together a cover story. “No, I’ve just been trying to open up shop. I took the bins out,” he gestured to the trash bins, set alongside the wall. “But I didn’t see anyone then. If someone was out there, they could have run past while I was stocking.”

The man nodded, either willing to accept that lie or too frantic to look too deep into it. Eric watched with sharp eyes as he and the group looked up and down the street. He didn’t think this concerned him, though, and he wanted to check back in on the absolute rando’ he’d just let into the bar. So he nudged the guy’s hand.

“I think the candy shop over there’s open, around that corner.” Eric pointed to the end of the alley. “If someone ran past, they could have seen them. Other than that though, I don’t have anything, and I’ve gotta get back to opening.”

Just a few well-placed white lies. The man at the door nodded and motioned the group to leave without another word. Eric let the door slam behind them.

Well. Then. He exhaled slow, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, then turned to the bar counter.

The way the bar was arranged was such that there was a peninsula counter, sticking out of the wall with seats arranged on all sides. On one side, too, was a small stage. Often, they would just play music. Sometimes they had performers, live musicians, and every Thursday was comedy night for local comedians. In June, they have a small drag show every Friday, and in December, they have a run of charity shows. There are still fliers and decorations up from the last one; Eric should take them down while he’s opening.

The man who he’d snuck in slowly peeks his head around the counter. There was something awfully familiar about him, like Eric had definitely seen this dude before, but he isn’t attuned to the daily gossip. Maybe it was just because the man was pretty as could be, eyes a warm brown that lingered around Eric before darting back at the door. His brows were perfectly shaped. Eric could see a little heart on his cheek, too, and silver decorations in his dreadlocks. Very, very pretty.

The man scan the area, see Eric going around to take the chairs out from where they’ve been stacked in the corner. And he asks, in a voice almost more delicate than Eric could have imagined, “Are they gone?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, setting down the barstools as he went around the bar’s lounge area. “They stalkers or something?”

As soon as Eric said the people chasing him were gone, the man sighed, standing up all the way and cracking his neck. He scooted to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands, which was fair. It wasn’t like the bar ground was the cleanest, even just before opening.

Someone like this dude, this put together and manicured and astoundingly beautiful, shouldn’t have had to put his hands on the bar’s fuckin’ ground.

“Basically stalkers. Paparazzi,” the man sighed.

“Paparazzi?” Eric asked, looking back at the man.

Was this dude fucking famous? Eric couldn’t recognize him. Damn, he was that far removed from things, that he couldn’t recognize an entire celebrity.

The man must have realized now that Eric hadn’t known who he was, because his grin turned sheepish as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Yep! I’m, uh. Songbird? That’s my stage name. And my YouTube channel.”

That name rang, like, literally no bells in Eric’s head. Figures, though. He rarely watched Youtube.

They stood in relative silence for a few beats before the man tried again. “Cadence? Cadence Beaulieu?”

“Oh,” Eric said, and it must have been obvious how he didn’t know who the fuck this Cadence dude was, because Cadence laughed a little in his face.

“You’re cute,” Cadence said, limping out around the bar, holding onto the bar’s side. “I don’t get that much anymore.”

“Cool.” Eric instinctually hurried over, holding Cadence’s arm and waist as he helped him onto one of the bar’s seats, but his head was reeling from the idea of a famous celebrity calling him cute. Like? That didn’t just happen. Did it? This guy was fucking famous?

What the fuck was he supposed to say? How do you talk to famous people? Eric helped him settle into the seat before asking, “Do you want water or something?”

“No, I’m good,” Cadence smiled at him.

Eric was going to loose his mind, he got called cute by a famous dude and now he’s looking at the famous dude and realizing how cute the famous guy was. He hadn’t paid attention to that earlier, too preoccupied with getting the guys at the door to leave, but now that he was actually looking at this guy—his anxiety was about to start kicking in, hard, he could tell. What if he made an ass of himself in front of the famous dude? The incredibly pretty famous dude.

“Cool,” Eric looked down, at the bar, and whistled a little. “If you want, you can, uh, stay here for a bit, until your car comes?”

He figured the famous dude isn’t driving around himself.

Cadence nodded. “If that’s okay,” he murmured, taking out his phone. “I can stay outta your way, then.”

Slowly, Eric nodded, too. He had to get the extra drinks ready. Finish opening up. And. He couldn’t really. Process? What was happening. He just thought he was helping someone up off the street, having tripped, and….Wait.

“Wait, how’s your ankle?” he tried to swallow his anxiety, looking back at Cadence, who seemed to be idling on his phone.

Cadence looked back up at him, then at his ankle. He was wearing strappy heels, flowy pants, a tight shirt, and an old oversized jacket, and none of these looked like clothes that were good to be running around in. Especially those heels. Eric didn’t know much about heels but he figured they might be an inch? And that was probably enough to fucking break a leg. Rude to stare, though. So he just. Averted his eyes back to the glasses he was stacking for later.

This guy was so fucking pretty. Eric was holding him earlier. He’d carried him—Eric had deadlift carried a whole ass celebrity.

“Probably sprained,” Cadence said with a sigh. “When I get home, I can ice it. I don’t think it’s fully broken, though, I could put a little weight on it.”

Now, they had ice in the box. Eric grabbed one of the spare bags for their limes and filled one with ice, part of their protocol for when drunkards would hurt themselves. He wrapped it in one of the clean towels and, once the Grey Goose was restocked, brought it over to Cadence. Who took it. Gratefully. It seemed.

“Thanks,” Cadence gave him a smile, which like. Eric still didn’t really know how to feel about this.

“No problem,” he said. “Sorry, uh. For, uh, being quiet. And not knowing who you were.”

Because like, that felt like something he should apologize for, you know? If Cadence is used to people recognizing him on the streets and some level of respect because of it, then maybe Eric treating him like a regular person (maybe even ignoring him, since he’s just sitting in the corner) might be rude? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the fucking etiquette for talking to famous people, this isn’t a problem he’s ever had!

“It’s okay, no, don’t even worry,” Cadence giggled—that sound, that fucking sound was so soft, what the hell?—and waved his hand dismissively.

“Okay,” Eric nodded. And he didn’t have much to. Like. Add?

So he turned around and went back to restocking the bar. And he didn’t say anything about how he could feel Cadence watching him. He didn’t say anything, but he could feel Cadence’s eyes on his back every so often, when he’d look up from his phone.

Maybe he was tweeting something about him. Eric didn’t know much about social media so if he did get tweeted about, he definitely wasn’t going to be able to find it. Or maybe he was texting his famous friends about the weirdo bartender who’s just ignoring him as he lifts the crates out of the storage room and cracks them open.

There’s no way this dude would be bullying him over shit like this for no reason, right?

Regardless, Eric wasn’t about to start a conversation and ask. He just knew that the guy was staring at him. For what felt like an hour. Realistically, only like, half an hour. But for fucking forever, man.

At some point, though, it had to end. After about twenty minutes, Cadence stood up, wobbling a little on his hurt ankle. Eric, who’d been restocking the limes, looked up, then stood up.

“Your car here?” he asked.

“Yep,” Cadence smiled a little at him. “When does this place open, anyway?”

“Uh,” Eric frowned, checking the clock on the wall. “In ten.”

Where the fuck are his bartenders, anyway? They’re supposed to get here at around now. Fuckers.

Cadence nodded, though, noting the time. “Glad this all happened before hours, then. Wouldn’t want it to get too crazy in here for you,” he looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Eric, with a small smile that made Eric’s already quick-beating heart skip a beat thinking of how his eyes creased with gentle happiness.

“Uh. Yeah,” Eric tried to smile, too, but something told him it looked a little more like a grimace.

Cadence waved, Eric waved. Then Cadence left. And the door closed behind him.

And that was the that. On that.

Eric was fairly zoned out for the whole shift. He was mixing drinks on autopilot, not so much as handling customers. Some drunkard got rowdy, Eric wasted no time to tell them to fuck off. His patience was zilch.

He got home and Gavin’s already put himself to bed, tucked in and in his PJ’s, though Eric heard him get up when he closed the front door. Eric picked him up, tucked him back in again, and kissed him on the head. Poor kid hated being alone late at night, especially when he had to put himself to bed. Eric laid on the bed with him, one foot off to hold himself steady, and made sure Gavin was all the way asleep before he stood up to change his own clothes.

Only once he was sure Gavin’s not getting out of bed again does he check his phone, too.

“Cadence Beaulieu” had over four million followers on Twitter, over fifteen million subscribers on Youtube, and an Instagram account that makes Eric blush almost inappropriately. And this is the guy who was. In his bar. Talking to him. Eric picked this man up earlier and didn’t even notice that the heart on his face was made up of three moles. It looked like a tattoo almost, but no, apparently.

He spent almost too much time binging Cadence’s content before he managed to pass out to the sound of one of his beauty tutorials. Interesting, that this is the guy he met. This is the guy who he picked up, carried into his bar, hid in the corner.

Interesting.

But not every day is so interesting. So Eric goes back to work and expects nothing to change. He tries to put this rare celebrity encounter behind him. Tries not to think of how much of an idiot he must have been, seeming to just fade into the background and ignore what could have been a real moment had he asked more questions, became something more memorable perhaps. He could have asked Cadence how he was doing, at least. How his day had been. Anything, really.

Instead, Eric just has the memory of the prettiest man on the planet sitting in the corner of the bar, of his bar. Alone together. A stranger, sure, and maybe Eric understood somewhere that that was part of why the anxiety was so strong? But c’mon. Man was pretty. Nice, too.

Damn. This is why he’s single, he joked bitterly to himself. Lonely, the joke in his head twisted. He didn’t have the gall to actually talk to anyone, what was he supposed to do.

He had been cleaning out glasses at the bar, late one night. He’d picked up a later shift, after Gavin had already gone to sleep. Usually, Eric liked to be home while the kid slept, but sometimes the scheduling didn’t work out like that and he’d need to pick up extra hours for other bartenders who had to tap out. He was a very strong cover, apparently. And on the spectrum of “thank god that lucky ass thing happened,” this was right below Cadence’s accident.

About two weeks after Eric meets a whole ass celebrity, two men sit down at the bar during one of the live musical performances. It was Eric’s time working behind the bar, and he saw the one with the eyepatch wave him over. Which, like. Okay, sure, he was getting there. But customer service and you never know how many drinks they’ve had before they walk in at one in the morning and you definitely don’t want to get mad at the dude giving you the tip and maybe this dude’s never been to a bar, who the fuck wears soft cashmere at a bar, and his buddy there was in a bowtie and suspenders like this was some kind of book club and not remarkably past midnight on a Thursday.

Like, okay, nerds, maybe they’ve just never been to this kinda bar. Sure. Fine.

“What can I get started for you boys,” Eric said, slinging his washcloth over his shoulder on his approach.

“Two cosmopolitans, please,” the one with the eyepatch said, giving Eric a smile that read polite.

Eric looked at the one with curly hair and glasses, who nodded in confirmation. “One shot in both? You got any vodka preferences?” he asked, taking out the house vodka and two tumblers.

Before the eyepatch’ed one could reply, the one with glasses butted in, saying, “One with one shot, a double in the other, please. And if you have Ketel One, that would be grand.”

“A double shot? Marlowe!”

“What, it’s been a good day! I think I deserve a double shot. And you know two shots isn’t enough to do much.” This Marlowe guy sounded pretty cocky, if you were to ask Eric, but no one ever asks the bartender. So he didn’t say anything about it.

He tuned out of the argument there, as soft as it turned. Much less of an argument, more aggressive flirting, and that was something that was easy for him to zone out of until he set the two cocktails down. “Double shot,” he said, setting the double in front of Marlowe. “And a single. If you boys need anything else, my name’s Eric and I’ll be at the bar all night.”

“Eric,” the one with the eyepatch smiled, and it was kind of pretty in that controlled, poised way that some models do. “Thank you. If we need anything, I’ll-I’ll call.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Marlowe said, raising his glass and taking a long sip.

Eric just nodded and went around, checking on others. Earlier, he’d seen some dude try to roofie a girl, and had taken the drink back. She had left with a friend she trusted, and he’d kicked the guy out pretty forcefully, but the moment still left quite the imprint. He was always on edge whenever that happened, hoping to prevent it from happening again.

He did a few rounds before he ended up in front of Marlowe and his friend again, maybe half an hour later. This friend was on his phone, typing something out, while Marlowe flagged Eric down, with an empty glass before him.

“Hello, Eric,” Marlowe raised the glass. “Would you be a dime and make me a Long Island Iced Tea?”

Okay. This dude had to be a heavier drinker, if he was going to be calling out drinks by name. And it wasn’t necessarily Eric’s job to know how much someone could drink, especially strangers. The guy didn’t, like….he didn’t look drunk just yet. You know? So Eric nodded.

“Sure thing. You got any preferences?” he asked, taking the cup back and pulling out a tall glass.

Now that seemed to be the right question, or at least one the man hadn’t thought of. Marlowe reached up, cupping his chin in thought, and spared a few glances at his friend still typing. Hopefully this wasn’t, like, for the friend. Eric would have to watch for that. But after a bit of time, Marlowe nods. “Yes. Ketel One again for the vodka.”

“Sure.” They had Ketel One under the vodka cabinet, but people rarely ordered it. It was one of their premium vodka’s and house vodka was Smirnoff.

“Do you have Patrón for tequila?”

“Yeah, I’m….pretty sure,” Eric, before he could be made to swallow his words, took a stride to the tequila cabinet and checked. “Yep, I’ve got Patrón for you.”

“Excellent. I don’t know enough about the other three alcohols to have preferences, but if you could tell me what you put in, I’d love to start learning.”

An….interesting request. But Eric knew the house drinks like the back of his hand (and he might not be able to hold his liquor like the best of them, but he’d still tried all of the standard drinks. For posterity.) so he pulled out the Bacardi first. “This’ the rum. In house, we use Bacardi. Pretty light for a rum, but it does have a better taste than Captain Morgan. A lot better to mix with,” he explained.

Marlowe had turned himself toward the counter, watching Eric pour in the Bacardi first, then the Ketel One, then the Patrón. Then, he put those three down. The triple sec was all out on the shelf, since they were common enough and the bar stocked a small enough range to have the whole selection out for viewing. Eric pulled down a bottle of Bols to add, then Henrick’s gin from the shelf below. They were running out behind the bar anyways. “Bols is the triple sec,” Eric said as he poured. “It’s really good for mixing with multiple alcohols. Sometimes a drink’ll play nice with other alcohols and sometimes it’ll only play nice with, like. Coke.”

“That makes sense. The consistencies are very different,” Marlowe hummed.

Sounded like this dude was the analytical type. Which might explain why he had some of his preferences on hand. If you don’t go to bars often, you’re going to be scared of the unknown. Eric was almost proud of the guy for that, if this was him trying new things.

He just hoped Marlowe wouldn’t throw up in the bathroom or something. That would fuckin’ suck. Always a situation when the patrons didn’t know their own limits.

“Henrick’s is the gin, and it’s just a easy gin to use,” he said with a shrug. “And then we just….”

He pulled out the cola spritzer, topped the glass off with cola, and put the slice of lemon in. And then he slid it over to Marlowe, who took the drink in one hand with a fascinated look. Dude even pushed his glasses up.

“Interesting. I’m excited to try it,” Marlowe said, glancing back up to Eric with a smile.

And before Eric could even warn him about how strong of a gut punch it was about to be, Marlowe picked up the glass and took a swig about a third of the cup. “Woah, buddy,” Eric couldn’t stop himself from jumping at that. “You alright?”

“Marlowe, what the fuck are you doing?” dude’s friend finally looked up from his phone to see Marlowe slam the glass down and cough into his arm.

“Holy shit,” Marlowe said, fixing his glasses with a smile that seemed a little too wide to be sober. “That’s quite strong, but very, very good. Thank you, Eric!”

His glasses were still crooked. Eric almost leaned forward to fix them, before the guy’s friend got to it first, and that was all for the better. It’s not like Eric knew these people, after all.

Marlowe took out his phone and Eric took the chance to lean towards his companion. “He asked for a pretty strong drink,” Eric warned. “If you need a hand taking care of him, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held a dude’s hair back in the bathroom.”

His friend must have been surprised at the suggestion, but it can’t have been an uncommon thing considering how quickly he got over the possibility. “Thank you, that’s very k-very kind. He’s not usually one to drink a lot,” the friend sighed, then nodded to Eric. “Thank you for your service tonight, Eric. My name is Phillip.”

Phillip, alright. “Good to meet you, Phillip,” Eric said, and he went back around the bar to do rounds.

It was another hour and half before the bar closed, though. Eric wasn’t technically the shift lead for closing, but he was on the shift. When it got close enough to three, he turned on Semisonic’s song “Closing Time.” Most of the people had left by then, quick to leave on their rides or to new bars.

But still sitting at the bar were the two people Eric had pegged as nerds earlier, Marlowe and Phillip. After Marlowe finished the Long Island Iced Tea, Eric had poured a water, but the man still ordered a margarita on top of it. And now it looked like he was paying for it, given how he was literally leaning on Phillip’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. Phillip didn’t look all too pleased, however.

“David is going to be worried si-worried si-sick when we get home.” Eric could hear Phillip chide Marlowe as he got close.

“It’s-It’s all dandy. I love David,” Marlowe hiccupped into Phillip’s shoulder, then leaned around and pressed his face into the base of his neck. “I love YOU, Prince.”

Phillip tutted, reaching back to run his hand through Marlowe’s curled hair. “I love you-love you too, you idiot.”

Cute. Really gay, and cute. Eric put away the cups he’d just washed and approached the pair, noting how they’d slowly but surely become the last people at the bar.

“Hey,” he said, waving slightly. “Phillip, right?”

“Mhm. Eric,” Phillip greeted. “Sorry to still be here. I can see you’re closing up.”

“Eh. Marlowe’s falling asleep on you, I get it. Do you two have a ride home?”

At that, Phillip winced. And Eric could have guessed the follow up, honestly. “Actually, Marlowe was supposed to be the driver,” Phillip confessed, patting Marlowe’s hand. “I think he overshot how much he could drink, though. As per usual.”

“I only had three drinks!” Marlowe interrupted, all too proud of himself for having three drinks that had the alcoholic consistency of a freight train.

Phillip and Eric both seemed to be on the same page, though, because neither acknowledged him. Save for a few gentle pats from Phillip as Marlowe buried himself more in Phillip’s back.

“Okay. Do you need to call someone?” Eric asked.

Phillip rubbed the back of his neck, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I know someone who’ll be awake who can come help, but….well. Marlowe’s car is still in the parking lot. It has a parking limit in the morning, which will quickly become an issue.”

Fuckin’ city parking. Eric had definitely gotten a ticket or two before, parking his motorcycle in the wrong place. He usually just walked to work, though, since he was two blocks away. So he didn’t have a vehicle to worry about….

A drunk man and a man with a cane could get picked up real easy this late at night by some unfavorable people. Maybe that worry was what made Eric offer. Maybe it was because Phillip and Marlowe had been fairly kind to him throughout the night. It could also have had something to do with how nice Phillip seemed to be taking it now, how calm he was handling the situation. And maybe, too, how Phillip himself didn’t ask.

There was something nice about being able to offer help, rather than having it asked of him always.

“If you want, I can drive you home,” Eric suggested. “I’ll catch an Uber back to my house from yours.”

Phillip blinked, and Marlowe giggled. Eric didn’t know what was so funny. He thought it was probably pretty shady to offer. He knew he wouldn’t let just any stranger drive his bike, after all. But he’d gotten to the point where he could do a solid vibe check just by looking and interacting with someone, and these two seemed nice. He could see himself accepting this kind offer, under similar circumstances, from either of them.

Still, kinda scary to think he’d be driving someone else’s car to their own house. He wouldn’t know where it was, Phillip would have to direct him. But Phillip legally couldn’t drive, not with the one eye gone, and Marlowe definitely couldn’t drive if he tried. Which he shouldn’t.

“That would be so-so lovely, thank you,” Phillip said.

Getting clearance to drive some drunk patrons home was a breeze, knowing it was Eric “workaholic glad you’re getting out early” Yuan. Soon enough, he had his arm looped around Marlowe’s waist, helping him up as Phillip led them to the car, which was parked about half a block away. Phillip also used a cane, which would have been a pretty difficult thing to work around if he needed to carry Marlowe himself. All the more reason Eric was glad to help them home.

They walked up to a nice sedan, likely a newer model judging by the built in navigation. Phillip helped Eric lay Marlowe in the back seat as he mumbled something about a pony, and Phillip himself climbed into the shotgun. The car wasn’t that hard to drive, now that Eric looked around at the controls. Same as any. The break was a little more tense than he was used to, but once he got it onto the road, he could manage.

Phillip, in shotgun, turned on a jazzy, late night radio station. And directed Eric gently towards their home, probably. Neither of them made conversation much but, to some extent, it didn’t seem like it was necessary. And that was kind of nice, to Eric. He didn’t always like conversing, especially with patrons and folks who didn’t know him. Which accounted for most people. But Phillip’s presence was nice, calming almost, which was rich for a guy who Eric had just met. He was tense, like he usually was, but for a stranger? In this kind of precarious circumstance?

It’s when the drive took them onto a small, two-lane road at the edges of the city and beginnings of the forest that Eric starts to worry. Was Marlowe actually a heavy-weight? Maybe he was pretending to be drunk back there so they could mug him? Take his kindness for granted and leave him in a ditch? He didn’t think he looked like he was worth mugging, but like….maybe. Was that a necessary cane or was it a weapon?

“It’s this-this house here,” Phillip said, pointing to a gravel driveway, and Eric swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth.

“Sure,” he murmured, pulling onto the gravel.

As he did, the house’s porch light turned on, front door thrown open as someone else jogged out. Eric stopped, threw the car into park immediately, but Phillip didn’t seem too phased by the newcomer. Instead, he turned to Eric and held out a one hundred dollar bill. “Thank you so much for all your help this evening,” he said with a smile.

Eric looked at the bill, then up at Phillip. He hadn’t really expected to be tipped for this, in all honesty. But it made sense. You know, if he’s going to drive you home, tip him. He’s done over the top enough. But a hundred fucking dollars? This dude just whipped a hundred dollars out on a tip? How loaded were these gay dudes, and then they didn’t have someone to drive them home?

“That’s a hundred dollars,” he said, unthinking.

He blushed a little, stuttering on words to add on and say he didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but Phillip just laughed. His laugh was breezy, like leaves in the wind. “Yes, it’s a hundred dollars. I think it’s-it’s warranted, considering you drove me and my idiot home,” Phillip put the bill on Eric’s lap and undid his seatbelt. “It’s a hundred dollars plus something-something extra.”

Eric looked down at the bill, picked it up, and there was. A whole ass phone number written on the side. With the “Phillip & Marlowe” written on the side.

Before he can ask what the fuck is happening and if he’s been dreaming this whole time, the backseat door opens. “Davy,” Marlowe’s voice is so slurred it’s almost incomprehensible, but the person who’d come out of the house, this “Davy,” unbuckles Marlowe swiftly.

“Jesus, Marl’, how much did you drink?” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe out by his arms.

Instead of setting him on the ground, though, Davy just wrapped them around his shoulders and then slowly, steadily, lifted Marlowe into his arms. Marlowe let him, swinging his own legs up to make it easier for Davy to catch them. Once he had some semblance of a grip, Marlowe leaned forward and pressed his face against Davy’s, kissing him rough enough for Phillip to laugh at, Eric to stare confusedly at.

“He gets like this, when he’s-when he’s drunk,” Phillip leaned over to explain, though it does nothing to clear up Eric’s questions.

At this point? He’s a lot more willing to walk home. Just get out of the car and walk.

“Alright, y’ sap,” Davy grumbles, pulling Marlowe off of himself and nestling him into more of a hold.

Eric was still sitting in the driver seat, just watching through the passenger window as Phillip opens his own door and climbs out. Davy leans his head towards Phillip, who pats his shoulder warmly and looks down at Eric.

All three of them are looking at him now.

The odd one out.

And, like, fair. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here, either.

“Uh,” he said. “I can just, uh. I can call myself an Uber now.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” Davy asked, almost at exactly the same time.

Eric put his hands up and slowly climbed out of the car. This Davy person didn’t really look mad—Phillip leaned over, whispering something to him, and Davy nodded along. And Eric didn’t know what the fuck that was about really, but he didn’t feel in the mood to test anything. Not at three in the morning, in someone else’s driveway. He had to get back home.

“I can just….” Eric gestured to the road again, taking a few steps back.

Davy shook his head. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” he was much more abrasive than the other two, and something in the sturdiness of his tone got Eric to shut up. “I’ll drive you.”

On literally any other day, Eric would probably have started running right then and there. His palms were sweaty still, from gripping the steering wheel tighter than ever and from the mounting panic of driving someone else’s car to a house he didn’t know. In a car with a bunch of strangers.

But, to be frank, Eric was just starting to believe this wasn’t real.

He was probably just tired. He didn’t usually work shifts this late, and this was a whirlwind of a night already, and he’d already swallowed whatever panic arose earlier, which usually left him without the energy to worry about semi-tense situations. It was a kinda numb feeling. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He dies and Gavin goes back with their parents? Bit too late in the night for Eric to care about something as trivial as dying.

So he nodded slowly to Davy’s suggestion. “That would be nice,” he said.

Davy grinned. He lifted Marlowe a little and said, “I’ll put this one to bed and come back out, ‘ight?”

Eric just nodded again, which must have been good enough for Davy, because he just turned around and marched himself back into the house. Phillip stayed outside, though, leaning on his cane with both of his hands. Eric shuffled around the car, now feeling a little more awkward, and Phillip gave him a small shrug as if to say he sympathized.

“I’m sure this is-this is strange,” Phillip added on.

It sure as fuck was. But Eric was like, almost too out of it to properly acknowledge that. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “This’ gonna be one hell of a dream to wake up from.”

Phillip chuckled at that one, laugh light like air. He leaned over and rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder—Eric flinched, hands reaching up into a defensive stance, and Phillip pulled back quick.

It was. A little out of his comfort zone.

Just a little. He didn’t like people touching him, especially people he didn’t know, because for the longest time he’d been used to sudden motions as a threat. And while he used to take it, Eric had long since trained himself to fight over flight. So it did take self-control to not just deck this dude.

He turned back around to Phillip, shoulders hiked enough for his neck to stiffen just a bit, and he tried to lower his own hands. They were shaking, much to his chagrin, so he stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans.

“Sorry,” he fumbled over his words. “Sorry, I, uh. I’m kinda...it’s late, and I don’t really like, uh. People touching me.”

“No need to apologize, that-that was on me,” Phillip responded. “No need at all. I should-I should have known better, but I’m ti-I guess I’m tired my-myself. I’m very sorry for touching.”

Eric smoothed himself out slowly, as best he could, and Phillip rested himself against the side of the car. He glanced over, watching Phillip as the man looked up at the tree line. In the moonlight, Eric could see him smile, ever so slightly. He looked weirdly regal, with how prim he was, even after being at a dive bar for three hours. His hair was still brushed to the side like it’d been gelled, though Eric had seen him run his hand through it a few times. And although it was dark, he could still make out the freckles that dotted Phillip’s face, like stars in their own right.

He turned away, looking at his feet, and hoped Phillip didn’t feel too badly. It wasn’t his fault Eric was a nervous fuckin’ wreck. But he didn’t say anything. Getting a little too tired to hold proper conversation.

They both look up as the front door opens and closes again, as that Davy guy jogs out. He’d changed out of his clothes into other pajama looking clothes, or maybe he’d just thrown on a jacket.

“Alright, nerd’s been sung a lullaby and is all tucked into bed.” He clapped his hands, rubbing them together slowly. “You gonna be able to get yourself in bed okay, Princey?”

“Oh, I’ll be okay. Just-Just sad my favorite artist won’t be there to kiss me goodnight,” Phillip said, and Eric did a double take at how flippantly the flirt was doled out.

Wasn’t Phillip dating that Marlowe guy? Eric glanced between Davy and Phillip as Davy scoffed and grabbed Phillip by the shoulder of his sweater, yanking him close and kissing him for a second. Were they like, all dating? Was that what was happening here?

Eric was more confused than anything else. He knew of polyamory. He’d just never seen it. Then again, he didn’t know about a lot in the queer community. Once, one of the queens who came in for drag night called him “gnc as hell” and he had to get an explanation from one of the girls sitting at the bar. Polyamory, though, was a new kind of fear for him. That was just more people to disappoint.

He looked back at the car and climbed into the passenger seat while Davy pulled back from Phillip and mussed up his hair. Eric very intentionally ignored eye contact while Davy climbed into the driver’s seat and rolled down Eric’s window, though he did wave at Phillip while Davy pulled away.

“Drive safely, David!” Phillip called out, waving a hand.

“Be back in a sec, baby!” David must have been his name proper, because he blew Phillip a kiss through the window and then rolled it back up.

Eric just kept sitting. Quietly. He almost wanted to pull his knees up, but this was someone else’s car and he didn’t really want to put his shoes on the leather seats. He put his hands on his knees, though, and tensed his knuckles a little.

Whereas the ride to the house was quiet in a calm manner, Eric felt a lot more tense now. He didn’t know this David. And this David dude seemed a lot less poised than Phillip or Marlowe, given how he just turned off the radio and mumbled music lyrics, off-key and without any actual tune. And Eric could recognize that only because, at some point, David was singing some Shinedown song he knew. “State of My Head?” Probably.

Would David be mad? If this was a polyamory situation, would it be like encroaching on territory to have driven Phillip and Marlowe home? Eric didn’t know. He didn’t want it to seem like that; he just didn’t want them to have to call an Uber and get a ticket. Shit was expensive.

At the first red light off the one-lane road, David glanced at him, and Eric caught the sight of a birthmark near his neck. It looked faded but it was still a recognizable shade of red. Eric looked away almost immediately, so David wouldn’t notice him staring. He must not have been too successful, though, because David chose that moment to start a conversation.

#human au #eric #cadence #gavin #the human au has two main fics #the first is about eric joining the polycule and that's where this snippet is from #the second is about everyone else joining the polycule and it is.......... so fucking long / // .. . .#i am just always nervous about the world knowing about things that are close to my heart and like #writing these fics have been getting me through grad school and also having a job in grad school #been very very stressed and taking it out on the boys and now the boys are so close to my heart #i hope you enjoy this !!!#hopefully ill draw new things and change up the layout and get a new theme #ive been thinking of making myself themes because like. whats the point of knowing how to make custom interactives if i cant #make myself a tumblr theme :^)#anyway long winded tags aside #thank you very much for sticking through this with me and thank you everyone who enjoys these homies #i also enjoy them #this is two chapters of the fic actually #its two chapters of the eric fic

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afuneralofathousandcandles · 3 months

Text

Chapter Thirteen.

Days passed and nothing happen. I was scared and restless and the handcuffs and bathroom were a nightmare. When would this end so the torture could start? I was resting on my cot, asleep when a guard woke me up. "I'm gonna let you out now. You ready??" He grunted.

It was strange too. No one around here had normal eyes, the were pitch black depths of evil. Nothing behind the eyes but coldness. It made me miss my home, but I knew I would never return there.

* * Xxx* SOUTH * S ID*E * DEA*D *KID*S *xxX***

We were traveling to the underworld and in three days we would be there so the three guardsmen would drop me off in the hands of Hades himself, I heard from ease dropping before they put me in the covered wagon, still in handcuffs, in a little cage. I struggled to get comfortable and we didn't even plan on leaving anytime soon, so I wasn't too comfortable. Hours later when I was so exhausted I couldn't see straight, the first guardsman sat in the front. But I had my back to him, and wasn't interested in turning to see what exactly he was doing that was taking so long.

I rode in silence.

Nothing really interested me, since I got my sentence. Sentenced to the underworld. I didn't have much to say. Honestly I kept telling myself it would be over soon, but when would it be over? After a fucking eternity? But anyways I wasn't being strong for myself,. But I was being strong more so because it was the only thing I knew.

I wasn't scared of what was going to happen to me, I was scared of how it was going to end, my life fell apart after that night I became a demon, and I didn't have time to think that was over… Was in string enough to take these guards and escape?

The thought tempted me. I didn't know I could die until about a week ago, but the reassuring thoughts that I could use my strength tempted me.

* * XxxL O V E R B O Y ZD I EI NT H ES C A R YM O V I E Sxx*X

Two days had passed. I didn't know if we where almost there not but I will starting to you hungry the tempting thought to breaking free tempting me the whole time and I did know if I should even try or bother or just accept my fate and just take my place in Underwood.

All of a sudden a loud rattling noise took over.l the covered wagon and we pulled over. I heard the guards mumbling to each other unsure if they should stop the wagon or not but we ended up pulling over.

Only one guard got out to see what it was.

After a moment of rattling there was a loud this noise and a scream. The guards looked at each other and one quickly climbed out to see what happen.

After a moment of silence there was nothing. No noise, no guard, no warning no anything.

So the guard begins the take off driving the wagon as fast as he could. What was going on? Could it be robbers this far out? No way. I'm not that lucky.

And then a loud thud noise came from above us as someone landed on top of the covered wagon speeding up. I look up at the shadowy figure walk towards the front of the wagon yanking the guard out in one quick motion before he could even scream he was gone.

The the wagon crawled to a stop.

Then the shadowy figures abruptly jumps down coming to the back of the wagon straight to me. Revealing it was the reaper, who saved me.

A//N:

THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT, SUMMER JUST STARTED AND I FORGOT SO IM CELEBRATING THIS BREAK AND I'M UPDATING TWICE THIS WEEK!! LEAVE ME A GOOD REVIEW ON GOOGLE, OKAY BYEEE.

#i fell in love with the reaper

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gothicxcatalystx666 · 1 year

Text

Chapter Thirteen

It was strange too. No one around here had normal eyes, the were pitch black depths of evil. Nothing behind the eyes but coldness. It made me miss my home, but I knew I would never return there.

* * Xxx* SOUTH * S ID*E * DEA*D *KID*S *xxX***

I rode in silence.

The thought tempted me. I didn't know I could die until about a week ago, but the reassuring thoughts that I could use my strength tempted me.

* * XxxL O V E R B O Y ZD I EI NT H ES C A R YM O V I E Sxx*X

Only one guard got out to see what it was.

After a moment of rattling there was a loud this noise and a scream. The guards looked at each other and one quickly climbed out to see what happen.

After a moment of silence there was nothing. No noise, no guard, no warning no anything.

So the guard begins the take off driving the wagon as fast as he could. What was going on? Could it be robbers this far out? No way. I'm not that lucky.

The the wagon crawled to a stop.

Then the shadowy figures abruptly jumps down coming to the back of the wagon straight to me. Revealing it was the reaper, who saved me.

A//N:

THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT, SUMMER JUST STARTED AND I FORGOT SO IM CELEBRATING THIS BREAK AND I'M UPDATING TWICE THIS WEEK!! LEAVE ME A GOOD REVIEW ON GOOGLE, OKAY BYEEE.

#emo revival #fanfiction #i fell in love with the reaper #emo bands #emoblr #emo art #emo as hell #hot topic #emo music #emo boy

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uglifish · 5 years

Text

my quick stay in Japan (ygo spotting post)

i had to hang-dry my clothes for the first time in a lonnngg time T0T but good thing the weather was mild, so everything dried relatively quick! i got a few days to myself where i visited anime shrine cities (akihabara 秋葉原 / ikebukuro 池袋) for BL stuff and YGO stuff :O LOOK AT THIS HAUL!!!

check out those metal diecast millennium items!!!!!

skdjkjsd as always my lighting is bad and my photography skills are lacking (why do i always manage to take blurry-ass pics?!?!!) (but they’re so cool they’re so cool i would wear them as a necklace or something!! AND i have extras! so PM me if you want some of my spares!) in order to get this home, i was that sweaty otaku with bulky bags hugged to my chest on the crowded train. also my doujinshi were wrapped in a black plastic bag, making it suuper obvious that yes, i had just bought porn. likeeeeeeeeee...regrets? do i have any? nope. shame? do i have any? also nope.

pretty happy with it all because: A) i finally FINALLY after all my yEArS in the YGO fandom, i’ve managed to purchase those nitotan plush keychains directly from the shonen jump shop (BIG SIGH OF RELIEF)

B) i also managed to grab the exclusive jump festa playmat (stock photo here cuz im seriously running out of room in my room to take photos of things, and it was quite big... ><\)

C) and managed to get card packs with awesome yami art on it >D bwhehe

The line in the jump shop was long because there was a Haikyuu! fan crowd, but i survived with minimal embarrassment lol

i also dug through a ton of k-books stores to find ygo rubber keychains + sleeves!

(it was 13JPY for 5 charms. ouch. thats 2 meals right there lel)

8JPY for a pack of used sleeves....hey, im just glad something was there!

ygo duel monsters the original series has died a bit because vrains is what’s popular now, and all of the “old stuff” has been delegated to

b e h i n d

t h e

g l a s s.

like, look at this...

i was so tempted to ask the store attendant if i could just buy the cardboard cutout of kaiba x) BUT A DARK MAGICIAN CARD IS 8,500?!? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!?

i also saw the legendary million-yen Blue Eyes card in the case next to Yami

?!??!

there are too many zeros! and yami looks so cool there aaaaaaaaaa

next shelf down was -merch- and tbh idk why these are so hype? or maybe its just prone to theft? its 12 bucks for a yugi keychain...idk why it has to be behind glass, there was plenty of room on the sales floor

next is MCDONALD’S SPECIALS

- is speechless - so i’ll just spam photos now.

these were papered on the walls from floor to ceiling so intensely, it was a bit overwhelming

wanted!! god cards! will pay thousands! uwu - seto kaiba

OK enough of those.

next i saw the MOST DECEPTIVE gachapon toy machines

there was YGO posters on the sides but the toys inside were just some random robot shit :/ i was mad disappointed yo.

lastly, this is my favorite cardboard cutout stand, but it was SOO HIGH UP ON THE SHELF it kept reflecting the lights from above, so this was the best photo i could manage

they look so coollll oueoiauiekuhus

and this was taken on my tippy toes, so pls excuse the blurriness. AND YEP. that’s all the ygo spotting i managed to do while in akihabara and ikebukuro! (i’ll make a separate post for the doujinshi!)

finally, here are some scenic pics from the rest of my trip!

the giant gundam unicorn in daiba

sumo lanterns in uedo park

the ferris wheel + “wa” themed lights at tokyo dome (xmas is here!)

more “wa” lights at tokyo dome. so freaking prettyyyy Ovo

one shot of the enormous buildings while i passed thru ginza >//<

:D yayy that was most of it! please let me know if you wanna see more pics from my trip >D i have plenty of blurry shots of scenery and other menial things, like road signs and cars lol!

hugs, Ugli

#ugliwrites #personal #took a two week break from updating and now im back :D #the time difference is highkey brutal #yugioh #ygo #yugioh merchandise #ygo merchandise #ygo merch #japan

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reanimationstation · 2 years

Note

Weekly whats goin on in the dnd campaign update ask!! :D

WELL. we havent actually played this week due to being busy with life and stuff BUT last session was still absolutely BATSHIT

SOOO. SAMMY FINALLY GOT MERGED WITH PROPHET. he is so much weirder (affectionate) but honestly i dont think everyone has noticed. he keeps on rolling really high on "keeping it together" when he is quietly trying to cope with double the traumatic memories he's used to. also hes a golden ink monster (which ive drawn a lot of). oops. once he rolls low more prophety traits will surface and then it'll be obvious that this is no longer the reflection of the past sam that everyone got used to

but in more WORLD SHATTERING news, the ink machine. it uhm. well for some backstory, sammy pretty regularly gets forced to make deals with it, be it to revive someone or to get someones soul from the machine. and the ink machine tends to use very vague wording. so in exchange for three people from the studio, it offered to unlock the exit door forever.

sammy took that deal.

and when he opened the door, everything was in the same style as the studio. uh. crap.

turns out during one of sammys very first few deals, his wording gave the ink machine power to access the outside world and tURN IT INTO AN EXTENSION OF ITSELF. THE OCEAN IS GOLDEN INK. GOLDEN INK IS FLAMMABLE.

so sammy now has to break that news to the found ones in the harbor :/ yikes. but hes planning on staying in the studio until things are sorted out and the world isnt in chaos because he doesnt really want to deal with the implications of a flammable ocean and literally everything else being studio-ified. things are going great

but ALSO since henry and linda are currently stuck in the ink machine their two kids have kinda been being watched by relatives for about a month (its been like 5 months in studio because of how time moves faster inside it). so sammy is planning on going to get them and bring them in the studio to watch them himself because he thinks that being inside the studio is safer than being outside while the world panics. he also needs to get one of the people he kidnapped's son since yk he has morals. (when sammy died the deal he made to get put back in his body was that he couldnt refuse any of the ink machine's orders SO its having him do a lot of bad stuff and he cant refuse otherwise people he's keeping alive with deals might die again :[ he's terrified of the ink machine rip)

back to the found ones harbor, hes organized a meeting to make a list of what people want from the outside world before they hunker down for a more permanent living situation. they're pretty self sustainable rn but people dont have phones and stuff so getting that would boost morale. he, bendy, norman, shawn, lacie, and maybe tom, are all gonna go out and get the stuff before the outside people start raiding walmarts and stuff out of panic. they r also gonna get an animal shelter's worth of pets to bring to the studio and keep them safe. maybe even a petco. also a lot of fish. we have canonized that norman really likes fish. its very cute. OH ALSO ALLISON IS PREGNANT SO THEY ARE GETTING BABY SUPPLIES

BUT YEAH A LOT HAS HAPPENED. im skipping a LOT of stuff that has happened since the last update and now (traveling through universes uncontrollably, dying a few more times, a terrible and evil forest full of nightmares, a handful of deals, gabriel dying and being brought back, etc) but thats the gist of it :]

#caps tw #henry my beloved #batim dnd #death m #kidnapping m

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thompsborn · 3 years

Note

Can i please get “I know hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay?” With hurt Peter and a really worried Harley 💙💙

(read on ao3)

He knows it’s part of the job.

It’s what happens, when someone’s a crime fighting superhero, or an Avenger, or an Avenger in Training, or whatever it is that people want to call it. He knows that the danger comes with it. He’s known for a long time, would be naive to ever try and believe otherwise.

But he’s never been this close to it before.

“Oh god,” Harley says—his voice is shaking almost as badly as his hands are, where he’s got them hovering uselessly. “Oh my god.”

The fight had been close to the tower, is the thing—as in, only a block or two away. When the alarm had gone off in the lab, none of them had been prepared for it, but then Friday had said something including the words, “Green Goblin,” and, “Bombs,” and, “Fire,” and that was all that had mattered, Tony and Peter both suiting up right as Friday tacked on the fact that it seemed to be a team up, that Gobby had apparently brought along some friends.

Harley sometimes thinks about it. Joining them, in a suit that he made a long time ago, that he works on and upgrades as if he’s got plans for what it’ll be for. He thinks about stepping into it and flying off to help them out, but he isn’t ready for it yet. For now, he still works long distance to help out—stays on the comms, gets in contact with first responders, helps use Friday’s scanners and any other tech in the lab to help him get an eye on what’s going on, just to let the team know more, to help out however he can from where he is.

Today, he almost used the suit.

And he would have—if Peter hadn’t been thrown through the window instead.

“We’ve got this,” Tony tells him, sounding out of breath and angry, worry tinging the ends of his words, as he knocks Green Goblin out of the way in order to prevent him from following Peter into the lab through the window. Harley wonders if they really have it at all, but can’t bring himself to ask. “Is Peter alright?”

“I don’t know,” Harley answers honestly, a waver to his tone. The reason he was about to use his own stupid suit is because Gobby’s been targeting Peter the whole fight, like he’s got a personal bone to pick, a grudge to settle. And Peter—the strongest, most capable person Harley has ever met—had stated that he wasn’t going to hurt Gobby, that he wasn’t going to fight back. That he was going to take it.

Well, he took it. He took a lot.

Gingerly, Harley reaches up, peeling Peter’s mask up, up, up, until it’s off completely. He winces at the blood crusted under his crooked nose and dripping from his busted lip, but sighs in relief when bleary brown eyes blink at him. “Hey,” he murmurs. “How’re you feelin’?”

Peter inhales sharply, and lets the air out with a low whine of pain. Harley can’t blame him in the slightest—there’s more rips and tears in his suit now than there are in the shredded remains of his homemade one that he still has, the one that had the Vulture’s metal talons rip through the cloth just to dig into his skin. It would be impressive if it didn’t mean each and every mark on the suit signifies pain underneath.

“Well,” Harley says, a waver to his words but a forced smile on his face. “You look great.”

It makes the airiest of laughs push past Peter’s lips, and he offers Harley a dazed, lopsided little grin. There’s blood on his teeth. “Thanks,” he rasps, wincing slightly. Before Harley can do much more than convulsively swallow back the bile that rises in his throat (his heart coming up with it), Peter suddenly sobers up, and he looks dead serious—not in pain, not dazed, but firm. He reaches forward and grips onto Harley’s shirt, leaves bloody streaks where the glove of his suit has been burned away and the skin beneath has been burned with it, and he says, “Harley, they—they can’t hurt him.”

“Who?” Harley asks, confused.

“Green Goblin,” Peter breathes, shifting his eyes until he’s looking out the window he was thrown through, features strained. “It’s not… I’ve been hiding a lot, about—about that, ‘cause he asked me to and he’s my best friend and—”

Harley furrows his brow. “Wait, wait—what? Back up, Pete. Hiding what? Who asked?”

Peter looks back at Harley, and mixed with the blood and the bruises is a meek sort of guilt. “Harry,” he says. “The Goblin, it—it’s his dad, Harls. It’s Norman. Or, it was, and we—he didn’t want his dad to die like this, but he wanted justice, so we were gathering evidence, everything we could, so we could turn it in and get him arrested, and I wanted—I—I wanted to tell you guys but you know how complicated Harry’s feelings about his dad are and I couldn’t break his trust once he asked me not to and we were so c-close to being able to t-turn him in but then he fuh-found out and—and—”

Harley carefully cups Peter’s face in his hands, being sure to avoid any scrapes and bruises encompassing the skin there. “Breathe, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re still hurt. Don’t push yourself just to tell me this. Take a breath.”

But Peter just shakes his head, sounding urgent as he continues with, “No, you d-don’t—he found out! He—He’s got c-contacts, I don’t know who with, but there’s—there’s a way to control people, and it sounds insane and I know it does but—but—but last week the Goblin showed up, right? And I confronted him but it wasn’t Norman, it was Harry, and he was fighting me and while he was fighting me he said he didn’t want to do it, and—and I don’t know how Norman’s doing it but he’s got Harry under his contol and—and it’s him, Harley! Out there, right now, in that suit that everyone is fighting against—that’s our friend in there, and we… we gotta help him, we have to… we…”

“Peter?” Harley lightly taps his cheek when he sees Peter’s lashes start to flutter, the tension in his body bleeding out, just a bit, leaving him a little bit more limp where he lays on the ground. “Peter,” Harley says again, trying not to let his fear tint his voice too much. “Hey—”

“Tell them,” Peter murmurs, grip on Harley’s shirt starting to go a little weak. “T-Tell ‘em that ‘s ‘arry. Can’t hurt ‘im. You gotta tell ‘em.”

Harley sucks in a shaky breath and tries to compose himself a bit. Knowing Peter as well as he does, it’s not worth insisting reevaluating priorities right now—his stubborn ass boyfriend will deny help until either getting what he’s asked for or falling unconscious, whichever comes first, and with the injuries he has (the ones that Harley can see; who even knows what’s hidden beneath the suit, what bones have been broken and muscles have been torn?) falling unconscious isn’t an option until someone in the Medbay says it’s safe. Because of this, Harley just nods once, reluctantly leaning back a bit in order to address the comms, knowing Friday automatically disconnects and reconnects when it’s clearly necessary. “Guys,” he says into the wave of sound that greets him, overlapping voices and background fighting noise clashing together.

Instantly, the voices go hush. “Harley?” Tony sounds worried already, likely expecting an update on Peter and fearing the worst.

“Goblin,” Harley tells him. “Green Goblin. Peter said—he said it was Norman, and him and Harry were working together to get evidence and get him arrested, but Norman found out. He says that Norman’s got him under some kind of control now, somehow. Like, he’s literally controlling him. Like mind control, I think. The point is, it’s Harry in the suit.”

Sam speaks up, sounding equal parts skeptical and resigned. “Did you say mind control?”

Before Harley can snap at him, Natasha speaks up, telling them all, “Trust me, it’s out there. Unless someone else found a way to do it, I’m assuming this is something left behind from the Red Room—maybe someone found out how she did it, or… I don’t know. I’ll find out how Norman got his hands on it later, but the good news is, as long as it’s the same stuff, I can get my hands on some antidote. He’ll be okay.”

“Fucking antidote?” Sam repeats. “Nat, what the fuck? When did you learn about mind control? What does that have to do with the Red Room? Why do none of us know this?”

Sounding beyond amused, Nat casually says, “Have I mentioned that I have a sister?”

“Oh my god,” Tony murmurs. “Okay, shut up, we can talk about—all of that after this is over. For now—message received, Harley. We’ll try to just knock him down or something so that we can bring him into the tower and have Nat do whatever it is she just said she can do. For now, you worry about Peter. Is he okay?”

Harley looks at Peter, his breath hitching. “Maybe,” he answers. “He refused to let me help him until after I told you guys to not hurt Harry. I’ll keep you updated, though.”

“Sounds like him,” Tony chuckles. “Focus on him and you, don’t worry about updates. Friday can keep me in the loop. You’ve got this, kid.”

The comms disconnect then—Tony’s doing, no doubt, in the hopes of helping Harley from getting distracted by the battle. Harley gets why, but the sudden silence that overcomes the room is startling. For a moment, he freezes.

“Thank you,” Peter breathes, shattering the quiet—and then he promplty blacks out.

“Shit!” Harley leans forward, eyes going wide as his hands, once again, hover uselessly in the air, unsure of what to do. He has to swallow back the lump forming in his throat, and finally settles on checking Peter’s pulse—irregular, and a bit weak, but still there—and trying to wake him up as he asks, “Friday, where’s Doctor Cho? Or—Or Bruce, or fucking Stephen, or—where the hell is an actual doctor?!”

He taps at Peter’s cheek, cautiously shakes his shoulder, not wanting to agitate his wounds or cause any pain, but needing him to wake up. There’s movement behind Peter’s eyelids, but they don’t open, not quite yet. “Doctor Cho is currently at the compound, as well as Mister Banner. They are getting ready to leave for the tower to assist in post battle injuries, but will not arrive for a minimum of thirty six minutes. Contacting Doctor Strange now.”

Okay. That’s something. Harley tries to let himself relax, but it just won’t work—not when Peter is splayed out on the floor in front of him, bleeding and broken and not waking up—

“C’mon, baby,” Harley murmurs, ignoring the waver in his words. “Come on. Wake up.”

It looks pointless—hopeless, almost—but, after a moment, Peter sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter, just a bit. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, barely even parted at all, but he’s awake and murmuring unintelligible nonsensical sounds that don’t seem to equate into actual words.

Harley breaks out into a grin—one that doesn’t last too long, but the relief is flooding. He moves over his hands until he’s cupping Peter’s face gingerly in his palms. “Hey,” he says, breathes it, really, so much air to his voice that it’s a miracle he’s making any sound at all. “Hey, Pete, look—look at me, honey. Can you look at me? I’m gonna get some help, but until they get here, I need you to try and look at me, okay?”

“Mm.” Peter’s head rolls towards the sound of Harley’s voice, blinks more like little flutters of his lashes as he furrows his brows, mouth twisted up in a pained grimace. “Wh…?”

Progress. Good. “Hi, baby,” Harley whispers, thumbs brushing over the apples of Peter’s cheeks. “You in there? Can you hear me?”

There’s a moment where he gets no response, but, eventually, Peter lifts his chin in a barely noticable nod, and then lowers it to turn his cheek into Harley’s palms. “H’rley?”

“I’m right here, honey. I’ve got you.” Tears burn the backs of Harley’s eyes, well up and threaten to roll down his cheeks. He blinks them away in order to keep his vision clear. “Friday?”

Instantly, Friday responds, telling him, “Still attempting contact with Doctor Strange. I have managed to reach Wong, who has assured me he is getting my message through. Until then, I recommend keeping Mr. Parker awake and trying to slow the bleeding from his abdomen.”

Harley’s gaze flickers down, and he bites back a curse as he notices that Friday’s got a point. While Peter’s enhancements, specifically his healing, makes it possible for him to survive a much larger blood loss than the average person, that doesn’t mean it’s any less worrying to see that there’s a slight puddle beginning to form beneath him. Especially under his midsection, where a large gash across his abdomen is sluggishly yet steadily dripping .

It’s going to suck, putting pressure on a behemoth of an injury like that—Harley has to even out his breathing from just the thought of how much pain it’ll add to the agony Peter is already in—but he has to do it. If he doesn’t, he risks Peter not lasting long enough for Stephen to get here, and Stephen is their only hope.

“Okay,” he mumbles, looking back up at Peter’s pale features, trying for a shaky smile. “Alright, baby, we—we’re gonna have to pull through this next part together, okay? It’s gonna suck, but I’m gonna be right here the whole time.”

Peter looks confused, trying to process Harley’s words and struggling to blink his eyes into focus. “‘Kay,” he slurs out blearily.

Harley reluctantly pulls back his hands, being quick to yank his sweatshirt over his head, balling it up in his grasp and then reaching over with one hand to cup Peter’s face again, the other poised and prepared. “Ready, Pete?”

“Mhm.” It’s clear Peter still isn’t quite sure about what Harley is saying, but he’s agreeing anyway, and—shit, Harley loves him.

Swallowing roughly, Harley nods, just once, and steels his nerves, and presses the hoodie down.

As soon as there’s pressure against the wound, Peter gasps—a horrible, horrible sound, strangled with an agonizing cry, his eyes snapping fully open with clarity shining in them, no longer fogged over and dazed. His back rises off the floor, body instinctively trying to curl in on itself, hands scrabbling to weakly push Harley and the sweatshirt away.

“Hey, hey, hey!” There’s an urgency to Harley’s tone that makes his words come out in a strained sort of rasp. “Peter, honey, you—you gotta calm down, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I gotta slow the bleeding. It’s okay.”

His words seem to help, or the sudden pain spurred on a rush of adrenaline that’s fading as quickly as it came , or perhaps some combination of the two—Harley isn’t sure what it is, exactly, but Peter collapses back onto the floor with a whimper in the back of his throat. “Harley,” he murmurs—barely coherent, words slurring together. “Harley… ‘m tired.”

His eyelids are fluttering. Harley panics. “No,” he says. “No, no, baby, you—you gotta keep those eyes open for me, alright? I’m so sorry, honey, and I—I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? Stephen will be here soon, and he’ll fix you up, but you gotta—you—”

Peter’s eyes fall shut. Harley sobs.

“I still need to—t-to tell you that I love you!” Peter’s chest stutters with every every rise, with every fall. “We gotta—we have to finish college, Pete, and—and get an apartment together, and grow up all the way, okay? And one of us still has to propose one day, and—and—and we still need to h-have a wedding, where we make fun of Tony for crying so much, but—but it’s out of love, so it’s okay, and—we could have kids, too, Pete! You have to—you have to make it, ‘cause there’s so much left for us, for—for you, and I can’t—baby, please open your eyes, please—”

A second sob bubbles up from the center of his chest when the only response he gets is another stuttered breath. He tries to remind himself that at least that means Peter is still breathing, just in time for Friday to speak up, softspoken as she says, “My message has officially reached Doctor Strange. ETA should be any second now. Boss has been informed.”

Only a moment later, there’s an orange glow from behind him, but Harley doesn’t look, too busy keeping the pressure steady and firm against Peter’s abdomen with one hand, the other now pressed to Peter’s pulse on his neck to assure himself that his heart is beating—his own breaths uneven and choked off as he cries.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “You did good, Harley,” Stephen tells him gently. “Let me take it from here, alright?”

He doesn’t want to let Peter go, but he knows he has to, if he wants to make sure Peter makes it out of this alive. Body trembling, he pulls his hands away, doesn’t stand up (he isn’t sure if he could, with his legs feeling so weak) but manages to scramble back a few feet to give Stephen enough room. “Is he—is he—?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Stephen assures him, already creating another portal with one hand, using the other to lift Peter off the ground, his Cloak moving over quickly to aid in levitating him. “And I’m good at what I do.”

He leaves with that, disappearing through the portal with Peter—and Harley remains where he is, sitting on the concrete floor of the lab, hands covered in his boyfriend’s blood, sobbing.

Outside, the fight goes on.

In here, the world stops turning.

—

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, or how much time has passed. He doesn’t know if the fight is over, if they got Harry, is anyone else got hurt. He doesn’t know anything, not for what feels like hours. He just sits, head bowed, face buried in his arms, uncontrollably shaking.

Inside his mind is a jumbled up mess. Part of him can’t stop picturing it—Peter, battered and bleeding out right in front of him. Part of him keeps picturing the future he had been blubbering about, forms images in his head on the two of them at their ESU graduation together, getting the keys for the apartment that they refuse to let Tony help them pay for, maybe bringing in a pet or two, probably alleyway strays that Peter finds on patrol. A ring, not horrendously expensive but still undoubtedly perfect and special, and a wedding, small and wonderful.

Kids. God, he could have kids one day, and Peter could be the guy he has them with.

If Peter makes it out alive.

A shuddering breath wracks his frame, body trembling at the idea of Peter doing anything but. He’s so caught up in all of this, in these two conflicting trains of thought, that he doesn’t hear the door to the lab open, or the footsteps that cautiously approach. It isn’t until a gentle hand settles on his knee that he even realizes he’s no longer alone, and even then, he doesn’t lift his head until he hears a shaky, “Harley?”

It isn’t Tony, or Rhodey, or Sam, or Stephen—it isn’t anyone that Harley would have expected to be the one to come in here right now—but, when Harley looks up, bleary and bloodshot eyes widening a bit, he isn’t all that surprised.

Harry is kneeling in front of his, looking a little bit worse for wear. There’s an abundance of scrapes and bruises scattered about his face, the knuckles on the hand resting on Harley’s knee busted open and an angry looking red. He’s got on the light grey sweatpants and the white cotton shirt that are stocked up in the Med Bay, but the clothes are all rumpled and askew. He looks tired, and heavy, and sad. But, when he sees Harley looking at him, he tries for a smile. “Hey. How you feeling, man?”

“Like shit,” Harley rasps, bring up a hand to scrub at the sticky dried tear tracks on his cheeks, only to freeze just before his hand can come in contact with his face, remembering the smears of dried blood coating his skin. His eyes water at the reminder, but he blinks it away, dropping his hand and clearing his throat. He eyes Harry, frowning. “What about you? Pete… he, uh—he said Norman was controlling you…?”

Huffing out something that’s a bit too hollow and bitter to really be a laugh, Harry nods, looking away with a smile that’s so twisted it looks more like a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “I still don’t really know what it was, or how he did it, but—yeah. Natasha got me free of it, though, and she said, uh—she has a sister, I guess, who went through the whole… mind control, or whatever the hell that was, so she’s gonna get ahold of her and have her—I don’t know, visit, or something? I think Nat just wants me to talk to someone who knows what it feels like. But…”

He trails off, and Harley—Harley sees, suddenly, how stricken and haunted Harry truly looks.

“But I don’t want to talk about it,” he decidedly says a moment later, eyes downcast. “Not yet. Or ever, really. I mean, how do you even try to talk about the fact that your own father just used some kind of mind control to force you into trying to kill your own best friend, right?”

The way that Harley’s stomach twists and turns on itself makes him swallow back bile. “Is he…”

Harry glances back up at Harley, one side of his lips twitching up. “He’ll make it.” The barely there smile fades into a grimace, and he looks back down. “No thanks to me, of course.”

“I…” Harley isn’t sure what he wants to start with—the relief of knowing that Peter is going to pull through, the irrational anger within him that makes him want to blame Harry for it, the logical majority of him knowing that Harry isn’t the one to blame, that Harry has been traumatized by what just happened and is as much a victim as Peter, if not more so. He settles on murmuring, “It’s not your fault.”

“My hands,” Harry counters. “I did it to him.”

Harley shakes his head, reaches out—pauses, when he sees the dried blood flaking off of his skin, but then—settles his hand on Harry’s shoulder anyway. “Your dad did it,” he corrects. “He used you like a puppet, and that isn’t on you. Peter won’t blame you. I don’t, either.”

“You should,” Harry says bitterly. “I mean, Pete wanted us to tell you guys about it all—about my dad being Green Goblin, when we found out, but I—I was so stupid to think we could do it by ourselves, and so selfish, asking him to keep it between us, all because me and my fucking daddy issues decided it was better that way. Look at where it got us. Where it got him.”

“If you had any sort of idea,” Harley starts, “that anything like this could have happened, would you have made the same choices you made?”

Harry looks offended. “Of course not!”

Harley shrugs. “Then I don’t think you’re the bad guy here. Now, before either of us sinks deeper into our own little depressive spirals here, I think—I think I wanna go see him.”

But that’s not it, is it?

“Need to,” he corrects. “I need to see him.”

Though he still looks conflicted, Harry offers him a nod and gets to his feet, hand outstretched to help Harley stand. “Let’s go.”

—

There’s a lot of bandages, and bruises, and waxy pale skin. Harley falters in the door, taking the sight of it all in, and then steps forward, again, and again, until he’s falling into the chair situation by the head of the bed heavily.

“I, uh…” Harry trails off, still standing in the doorway. It’s hard for Harley to rip his eyes away and look over, but he does when he registers the waver in Harry’s voice, and finds that the guy is staring intently down at the floor with a furrow to his brows. “I can’t—I can’t be in here. I know you’re right, logically, that it isn’t really my fault, but I was—I remember causing… all of this, okay? Even if I wasn’t in control, I still remember, and I don’t think I can—y’know?”

Be in this room, Harley knows is what Harry’s trying to say. He can’t be here and see Peter like this, when he can so vividly remember his hands causing these wounds, control or no control. Harley swallows roughly and nods, just once. “Where are you gonna go, then? Because I don’t think being alone is good for you right now. Like… I don’t know. Call Flash, at least. He’ll rush over to keep you company and make sure you’re okay. I think you might need that.”

Harry’s eyes flicker up, barely glancing over Peter with a flinch before settling his gaze on Harley. “I will,” he assures. “I’ll call him.”

“I’m gonna ask Friday in twenty minutes if you have yet,” Harley warns. “And if you haven’t, I’m gettin’ ahold of him myself. Understood?”

A half hearted partially there smile punctuated by an eye roll. “Yeah, I got it, you mother hen.”

“Good,” Harley says, nodding.

Moments later, Harry is gone.

Harley turns, slowly but surely, to face Peter once again. It causes a pang in his chest, seeing his boyfriend so beaten down, attached to various machines and IV’s, all there to keep him stabilized, but he finds comfort in the rhythmic beeping that signifies every beat of Peter’s heart, reaches out to hold one of his hands in both of his own, careful and gentle and loving.

Because he loves him. Because Peter is everything, and Harley is in love with him.

“When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you,” Harley whispers, thumb lightly stroking over Peter’s bruised knuckles. “And I’m gonna tell you that I’m in this for the long haul, okay? And if you don’t feel the same, or just aren’t ready to say it back, then that’s okay, ‘cause I just wanna make sure you never get hurt like this without knowin’ how much you mean to me. Sound like a plan?”

Peter’s eyes move beneath his eyelids, his chest rising and falling, fingers flexing, just barely, against Harley’s palms.

Harley beams, eyes watering. “Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Definitely a plan.”

#my writing #parkner

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willowistic22 · 4 years

Text

Red (Redfinch)

Despite their breakup, Albert still wanted to go see Finch perform in one of his concerts when Race asked him if he wanted to come. This is the perfect chance for them to talk things out again but words aren’t cooperating for either of them. With that, Finch decides to triy a different form of communication.

Words : 5233

Part : -

Warnings : Alcohol, cursing, cigarettes, angst in general

A/N : Woah that’s a crazy word count uhh,,,, hi i’m back with another fic. Another redfinch and for that we stan lol (well idk maybe yall are annoyed by all these redfinch fics but yknow what? i’m thriving off of it) But fr I’ll eventually get into writing other ships but for now have one more redfinch combined with another tswift songs (as you do) this time with Red. Wow we are so surprised who would have thought of redfinch being associated with the song red no we aren’t surprise :D This one specifically exists in my bandsies au. you don’t need to read that first to understand this (i think?) but it wouldn’t hurt if you checked that out as well:) Tbh i can’t decide whether i love it or hate it but at least i like it enough to post it. N ee wayysss enjoy!!

His brain is screaming about how much Albert shouldn’t be doing this. Comprising a list of cons that goes on forever. And although he thinks all of the cons his brain had written is logical, that one pro his heart wrote beside the long list was all it took for Al to say yes. All the cons will be worth suffering through if he finally gets to see Finch again. And maybe it’s for the better since he’s not doing well by distancing himself from the boy.

Unfortunately, the world isn’t black and white. Meaning that even if he did choose to follow what his heart wants, all the horrible feelings will still be there. And with every step he takes, inching closer to the entrance of the building, he’s getting even more terrified by the second. Thankfully, the line for the entrance is going pretty slow which gives time for Albert to calm down.

But it’s not helping. The line is crowded and full of fans, talking excitedly about the band’s awaiting concert inside. For some odd reason, he can only hear the conversations between fans that contain one specific name. He doesn’t hear anyone mentioning Romeo, Elmer, or Jojo’s name. Not even Crutchie, who he’s been told to be the fans’ favorite. Just the name Finch, being repeated all around him. With adoration and excitement lacing the name. The line is delaying the inevitable and the people around him makes him a bit overwhelmed.

“We can still turn around if you want. I’m sure they’ll find a way to give us a refund”

If he’s actually being honest, it was his best friend that got him to come. Race returned to their shared apartment a few weeks ago and rushed to ask Albert if he wanted to go see their friends performing tonight. Race knows about Al and Finch’s break up but it’s worth asking him first. And to his surprise, he said yes.

“No, it’s fine” Albert replied, “I’m fine”

“You’re picking your pimples right now”

“So?”

“It’s one of your nervous habits”

That piece of information really caught Al off guard. He didn’t think a tiny random fact about himself would actually corner him the way Race is doing now. Eyeing Albert through his glasses and raising his eyebrows despite his forehead being mostly covered by his beanie.

“Well… I-” Albert tried to come up with bullshit as fast as he could, “I like to do it on purpose too, alright?! My fingers just... get a little itchy!”

He slowly puts his hands down from previously reaching up to pick his face. And the line is still going slow, one step at a time. It’s not doing any favors for Al.

“Dude, it’s alright if you’re not ready to see him” Race continued, “It takes time, I get it”

“Race, I’ll be fine! How many more times do I have to tell you?” Albert argued, which finally made Race back down. And to make sure it’s no longer gonna be brought up, Al changes the subject, “By the way, where’s Specs and Mike? You said they’re watching too”

“They’re already backstage with the others for... obvious reasons” Race answered casually, catching on to Albert's intentions to change the subject. “So is Kath, by the way. We’ll meet her in there though”

To that, Albert simply nods. His jittery movements turn into rocking his body on the ball of his feet while digging his lips with his teeth. Race tries to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he does. Albert knows he does. Although he’s glad he’s not bringing it up because it might make it worse.

He’d be lucky to know that he’s not the only one panicking over this. In the dressing room, an aggravated Finch throws his phone to the cushion of the couch after sending the last text to his friend Race. It sounds unlawful for Race to be ‘secretly updating’ Finch on how Albert is actually doing because it’s obviously something Albert doesn’t want to directly tell his ex.

Finch groans, placing his elbow on his armchair to support his head. The room is spinning in his view and he wishes it all to stop. Taking deep and long breaths to stabilize his shaky limbs. A little prayer starts playing in his heart, it follows the tempo of his fast heartbeat.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Finch opens his eyes and looks up to meet his bandmate sitting on the couch across from him. He hadn’t even been talking for a good hour because he’s too fixated with the first text Race sent him when he and Al first started making their way to the concert.

“Yeah, he’s in line” Finch replied, looking up to the blond boy who’s holding his bass.

“How are they not being mobbed?” Another voice rang. This time it’s not coming from one of Finch’s bandmates. It’s coming from Race and Albert’s bandmate, sitting next to the shortest member of Finch’s band on the couch.

Specs only ask that because their two bands have a long connecting history and their fanbase tends to be sort of the same in a way. With Specs dating Romeo and Mike dating Jojo, Race and Albert are bound to be recognized and mobbed by at least a few fans. Especially seeing that Albert is Finch’s former lover, although the fans know that as a rumor since the two never publicly addressed it.

“I’m assuming they’re wearing a lot of shit to cover their faces” Another answered, the other VIP of the show alongside Specs, Mike. He’s twirling his drink in his hand while the other keeps Jojo cuddled close to him, “I mean, Al’s head is really fucking bright!”

With the mention of that specific name, Finch sulks back in his armchair with a groan. He covers his face with his hands, hoping it’d make the world just stop for one second. He could hear a loud clean slap echoing the room, followed by overlaps of whispered scolding. If he had to guess, it was Mike who was the one getting slapped and scolded.

“This is a disaster…” Finch exclaimed to himself, still not lifting his face up.

“It doesn’t have to be unless you make it like that” this time a feminine voice spoke up. A voice he recognized to belong to Kath.

Finch hears footsteps approaching him. He feels the motion of someone softly kneeling down in front of him. His hands were gently pried open and he was met with Kath’s friendly smile.

“It takes time, but you gotta trust the process”

It’s not necessarily the words he needed to hear right now, but it still warms his heart to hear his friend still being there for him despite the sticky situation he has gotten them into.

Everything would’ve been just fine if Finch hadn’t been so pushy and upset over Albert’s decision. He was the one that decided to put his music career on hold to go get that engineering degree, which frankly seems pretty useless. Finch was so dirty for pulling the ‘you’re being selfish’ card at him when it’s not even his band at all. Race, Specs, Mike, Ike, and even their manager Denton were very supportive about his decision to get that degree. Heck, all their friends were! But not Finch. His boyfriend at the time. He argued like he secretly knew how the others felt about Al leaving when really there aren’t any secret feelings for him to know. All his arguments came from his own feelings.

However, he knows Albert’s ‘own decision’ was secretly coated by his father’s persuasive words. The whole ‘just in case the music career doesn’t work out’ argument was basically the copy and pasted words from his father. They both know it. Despite the arguments, it still seemed that Al was determined to fully focus on college anyways. Instead of following his fellow musician friends’ college path by getting a degree in the non-lecture-hall way, he followed his father’s words and actually attended his college classes in a proper campus.

In the moment, Finch was just too focused on Albert leaving. Maybe he was the one being selfish. He had only realize now that most of his arguments were because he didn’t want Albert to go. It’s too late now, since the last time they saw each other was when Al slammed the door of their apartment one last time with all his stuff and a plane ticket to Seattle. At that point, Finch was finally tired of all the arguing and told him that if this was his plan then he’s on his own.

The tears that came after were filled with sorrow and regret. Sorrowful because he missed him. Regretful because he only realized then that there was no valid reason for Finch to lash out in the first place other than for his own needs. The feeling is still present to this moment. And it’s currently the strongest right before a show because he knows he’s gonna be in the crowd.

“Look, we’ll let ya drown out your feelings with some booze later” Crutchie finally said, “But right now we got a show”

The band was all getting up from where they were seated, bringing whatever they needed to the stage. Crutchie gets some help from Jojo to bring his Bass till he properly sits on the stool on stage. But Finch stays perfectly still, holding Kath’s hand as if his life depends on it.

“I know I should talk to ‘im, Kath” Finch finally said, slowly joining the others in standing up. Kathrine follows along, eyes still fixed to her friend, “But… I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say to him”

“Then don’t talk” Mike suddenly inserts himself in their little conversation. He gets up and approaches the two, “Sing him the new single”

“You’re fucking insane, Mike!” Katherine instantly snapped.

“Alright, your mouth will be legally sealed shut till the end of the concert” Specs joins them only to drag Mike away. There were some protests from the boy, but it was totally shut down by everyone else in the room.

“No, wait. He’s got a point” Finch suddenly exclaimed, which quickly got the whole room to freeze in time.

He looks at his bandmates, all standing by the doorway ready to kill the concert. A half confident smile appears on his face and he says, “Let’s sing that single”

The concert is held in a bar like-venue with multiple floors, slowly being filled to the brim by excited fans. Their excitement bounces off the walls of the venue, creating an ecstatic kind of environment despite the tight space. The concert is going to start any minute now and while the fans surrounding him are shaking in excitement, Albert is shaking in a nervous fit.

“Still okay there, Al?”

Albert looked to his side, seeing his good friend Kathrine looking up to meet his eyes with concern. She had just joined the boys in the midst of the crowd after hanging out behind the stage with the band.

“What? Yeah, I’m okay” He replied, “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re squeezing my hand a little too tight”

Al had only realized he’s been holding Kath’s hand just now. His brain was too focused on his fears about meeting Finch again to the point that he hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He gets bashful all of a sudden, cheeks going a bit warm, harshly pulling away from her grasp.

“It’s okay, you can hold my hand if you want,” Katherine said gently.

“Kath, I’m fine!” Albert said, “Why won’t you and Race believe me?”

“Because we know it’s utter bullshit”

The pair looked back towards the crowd behind them where the familiar voice originated from. There, Race struggles through a sea of people with two drinks in hand. Oddly enough, he still seems to stand the heat despite still wearing his face disguise. A white cotton mask, black-framed glasses, and a grey beanie mostly providing cover for his blond curls. While Al, seeing that the venue is pretty dark and speculations has led him to believe that the fans would be focused on the concert rather than the people attending it, had already put away his mask. However, his fears still made him wear his snapback and grey-framed glasses just in case.

Albert takes his rightful drink, and with a free hand, Race takes off his own mask and stuffs it in his pockets. He complains about the stuffiness from wearing the mask all while doing so, which made Kath laugh. It appears the Albert-scolding has been forgotten for the time being, as Kath and Race starts engaging in their own conversation, which Al doesn’t mind because he’d much like to down his beer quickly.

And then the concert finally starts.

An exciting intro starts playing as the band enters the stage. The wild crowd welcoming the band is deafening to Albert’s ear. Time freezes and everything in between fades away. All he sees is Finch, up on stage wearing a smile brighter than the lighting of the venue itself. He’s using his old dark green guitar. The same one he uses when he’s writing songs in bed or when he just feels like strumming the strings. Albert remembers the memoirs of all the guitar string scars he had earned throughout the years of knowing him. Some of them were even caused by Albert himself.

Lucky that Finch hasn’t noticed Albert has been staring at him the whole time. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the boy since the start of the first song, shimmering under the spotlight with amazing vocals. Laughing about at his fellow bandmates’ antics on stage. Oh, that laugh. It gives him butterflies in his stomach like it was the first time hearing it.

He can feel two pairs of familiar eyes on him. But he’s too far gone to care. Albert really did make a big mistake for letting Finch go that easy. Because at the end of his previous college days, he still loves him and misses him dearly. His little Finchy. It doesn’t matter to Al anymore if Race and Katherine are eyeing him with sorrow or the whole world were to look at him weirdly for fixating his own eyes towards the beautiful boy on stage. He was his beautiful boy. Good lord, does he long to see the days when he got to call Finch his.

“Holy shit, I fucked up” Albert muttered under his breath, only Kath and Race could hear it, “I should’ve never had left”

His friends were definitely not expecting Albert to verbally exclaim his regret. They already knew from the start despite the redhead’s previous denials. But hearing him say it just makes it all more real. Even Albert himself was hit by a truck of reality just by loudly announcing it.

“Well, now you know” Katherine started, gentle voice on the same volume as his own despite the volume of their current surroundings being incredibly loud, “Go tell him that after the show”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t” Albert replied, fully turning away from the stage to properly look at his friends. A glint of sorrow and desperation flashes before his face, “I might make things worse!”

“Well, you’ll never know till you try” Race said, sounding a little hesitant at the start. He offered a warm smile at his friend and a hand on his shoulder, since there isn’t much he could do in the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Albert turns back towards the stage only to witness the biggest surprise of his life. Finch looked back. Straight into Albert’s eyes, it pierced right through to get his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He just realized the song the band was previously playing had ended and they were waiting for the fans to quiet down. While Romeo playfully over-dramatize his thank you’s to the crowd and gets scolded by Elmer and Crutchie, Finch was continuously staring at Albert. The hands that were previously used to play with his guitar hang idly because his center of attention wasn’t at his instrument right now.

It might just be some form of hallucination Al retained from the high, but Finch seemed to be smiling at him a little. Just a little curve at the end of his lips while he’s still staring back.

Albert doesn’t know how to interpret this other than to just stare back. Deep down, his heart is flipping in all kinds of ways and his thought process is no longer comprehensible. He’s trying to read the other boy’s emotions but it’s too neutral to tell. Other than the fact that he’s smiling a little at him but that still doesn’t give him a proper answer.

Eventually Finch becomes the first one to look away, seeing that the audience had settled down for the band. Albert’s eyes were still glued to Finch, retaining his focus back to the concert. He opens his mouth for a moment to say something into his microphone, although he unexpectedly stopped. The flow of words seemed to cut short. He saved himself by pulling himself away from the microphone up front and towards the rest of his bandmates. Judging from the body language, they seem to be whispering.

“What’s happening?” Albert whispered, more to himself rather than to his friends.

“I’m not sure…” Race replied, taking a step closer to where Al is standing.

The band kept the discussion short and quickly got back to their places. Finch seems to hesitate the second time he opens his mouth to speak. But this time, he gets the words out.

“Uhh… sorry ‘bout that. I uhh… I just got the urge to go a bit out of our fixed setlist and uhh… hope you guys don’t mind” Finch explained with a little giggle at the end. The crowd couldn’t care less and cheered on. Finch smile widens at the agreement, “We thought we’d give ya an early access to our newest single that hasn’t been released yet”

A euphoric feeling passed through the crowd as the cheering got louder. It baffled Finch so much that he laughed into his mic.

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it” Katherine commented under her breath.

But Al’s ears were sharp enough to catch it. He snaps his head around to face the girl behind him, “Do what?”

Katherine was rendered speechless to that question, despite obviously knowing what’s going on. Albert turns to Race but he has no idea. He finally turns back to the stage where Finch’s gaze was already waiting to be returned by Al himself.

Without breaking the gaze, Finch speaks into the mic with a little smile, “It’s called ‘Red’”

It was Albert’s turn to be speechless. He had no knowledge of a new single since he’s mostly been staying away from his ex’s social media for the sole purpose of moving on, which he had failed miserably. And none of his friends had told him anything about a single that’s title was a secret language only Finch and Albert share, littered with all sorts of vintage romance.

“Holy shit…” Race exclaimed, “...I had no idea they were gonna play this song”

The opening of the song starts with Jojo lightly plucking a few strings of his acoustic guitar. The crowd goes wild once again, energy bouncing off one wall to the other.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”

Crutchie sang the first line smoothly. At this point the other’s had joined in with their instrument. Finch fully ignoring the crowd and focused on looking at Al. Those blue eyes are trying to send a message to Albert and it’s being coded with the song they’re currently playing.

The song had carried on till it reached the chorus. All the instruments peaked at that moment and collaborated with each other to create a very euphoric sound. The crowd jumps along to the beat of the song along with a loud cheering, obviously enjoying the tune they have yet to listen to. Some were holding up cameras to capture this moment, most likely to later share it with the fans that didn’t get the chance to witness it live.

At this point, Finch had turned his face away from Al. There was a troubling look in his expression but it was quickly covered by closing his eyes as if he’s trying to concentrate on singing the chorus with the others. But Al is no fool. He knows that look on Finch’s face is when he’s trying to avoid something, and that something is him.

“Losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

But loving him was red”

The words moved something in Al. It was written in a way Albert recognized it to be Finch’s writing style. Every single part of the song. From the melody, the chord progression, even the lyrics. Especially the lyrics.

“Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword

And realizing there's no right answer

Regretting him was like wishing you never found out

That love could be that strong”

As Finch harmonized that line with Jojo, he stole a little sad side glance at Albert. The song returns to the chorus once again, Finch gets dragged with the beat and lightly moves his body along.

Albert gets captivated along with the music. He can feel the corner of his lips slightly rising up, which is pretty ironic seeing that Finch is singing a breakup song about them. Maybe because he’s relieved to hear Finch sing about how he’s not fully over him. Or maybe it’s because he gets to see Finch embracing the break up, which could potentially mean that he’s okay with it. But whatever it is, he’s happy seeing Finch like this. Or just seeing him in general.

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head”

The chord progression’s pattern slightly changed. Finch sings his line into the microphone, closing his eyes as if to soak up all the intoxicating energy he gets from the crowd. Of people flailing their hands into the sky and a loud chorus of undecipherable shouting. But at the last line, he steals a proper glance back at Albert.

“In burning red”

The lyrics really says it all. There’s no more hidden message that Albert needs to decipher, as it's being presented right in front of him.

Finch takes over the next part of the song, shredding his guitar which makes the crowd go wild. At the moment, it looks like he’s feeling himself. Moving along with the motion of his fingers that creates each note.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

'Cause loving him was red”

The song is supposed to be a punch to Albert’s guts, and yet he finds himself laughing at it. He catches a glimpse of Finch’s eyes, sneaking its way to look back at Albert every so often. And this time, he wears a smile while jumping along to the song. And it made Al smile back.

“His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street”

As the song ended, the fans went wild. The look on Finch’s face seems satisfied at the success of the single they have yet been released to the world, shining at the sight of a hype crowd. He steals one last glance at Albert with a little smile on his face. Albert would dare to say he’s being a bit shy. To that, Albert smiles back with a disbelief laugh escaping his lips before Finch pulls his gaze away from the other boy.

After playing a few more songs, the concert ended. There was only one thing in Albert’s mind, which was talking to Finch. Race and Albert quickly put their disguise back on before the crowd had realized who they were as they exited the venue. The three stay behind as the venue gets emptied, Race and Katherine making quick work with their fingers on their phones to contact their friends backstage.

Jojo was the first to respond to either of them. He said that Finch is smoking behind the venue alone. One could only assume that he’s not in his best state after spontaneously choosing to sing that single. But Jojo assured them that he’s still good to talk to. Crutchie then responded, saying that Specs and Mike can pick them up to get them into the backstage.

It didn’t take them long, but Albert wasn’t keen on seeing the others right now. After being pointed towards the back door, Albert was already off. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he makes quick steps towards it.

He gently opens the door, to avoid surprising the boy in case he was nearby. Albert steps out to a parking lot, open-spaced with another parking lot above it as its roof. At a first glance it was completely empty, only a few lights turned on to keep the area lit. His eyes gandered even further and spotted the boy he was looking for, back facing Al and his body leaning on metal bars as he enjoyed the nightlife of the city.

Albert took a deep breath to calm his adrenaline, slowing down his walking pace. The area is eerily quiet. Only a few things that can be heard: his footsteps, his thumping heart, and the sounds coming from the streets three stories below them. With every step closer, he slowly unraveled his makeshift disguise. Shoving his mask and glasses in the pockets of his jeans but left the snapback on.

“‘Loving him was red’” Albert said to catch Finch’s attention, “Did you mean it to be that obvious?”

Finch didn’t fully turn his head around, only halfway so Al can see the little grin of amusement forming on his face. A little chuckle escaped his lips, causing his chest to pulse along before he continued, “Not really. But it has a nice ring to it”

Albert takes a few steps closer towards the metal bars, leaning his body on it like what Finch is doing. Now he can clearly see the half burnt cigarette on Finch’s hand. Al tries to make eye contact with him, but Finch is purposely turning his head the other way and giving Albert his head full of blond curls.

“You came back” Finch suddenly said, voice hushed and low.

“Of course I came back” Albert replied, “You didn’t think I’d fully leave like that, did’ja?”

“Well, no. It’s just that you seemed so hellbent on going to college”

Albert slowly nods at that, moving his gaze towards the streets below like the other boy. They sit in the silence for a few minutes. Hearing different vehicles pass by the street below them and honking from the distance.

“Finch, I’m so sorry I left ya like that” Albert suddenly started, fully turning his face towards him. He couldn’t find a way to word it and so he resorted to just telling him the truth. Finch stays quiet to let him continue, “I was an idiot to let ya go that easily and all because I was selfish”

“You weren’t actually being selfish” Finch said, smiling a little at his words, “You did it because you wanted to. And it wasn’t hurting anyone anyways”

“It did. It hurt you”

Finch turns his head towards Albert. Now their eyes are looking into each other closer than before. The closest they’ve ever been since their breakup. A mixture of unsaid emotions made the gaze feel so intimate and it terrifies Al a bit.

“I hurt myself trying to get you to stay” Finch said softly. His next words got stuck in his throat. He gives his brain a few seconds to focus with a sigh out of his mouth and dragging his gaze away from Al, “I knew you never wanted to get that engineering degree in the first place which is another reason I didn’t want you to go. But at the end of the day, it was your decision to make and not mine. I lashed out on you and said you were selfish but… I was the one that was being selfish”

Finch turns his eyes back towards Al, his face looks more sorrowful than before, “I’m sorry”

A small smile formed on Al’s face, tilting his head to the side by a few inches, “It ain’t your fault for knowing me more than I know myself”

They leave the conversation at that for the time being. Letting the streets below fill the void of their silence. Both boys focusing their gaze towards the view they got from this height they’re on again. Finch and Albert left speechless at each other’s words.

Albert’s hands unconsciously reach up to his forehead, itching to pick a pimple like earlier. His next words almost got stuck in his throat but he was able to pull through just enough to get to his point, “Well, at the end of the day we uhh… we both fucked up. Fucked our relationship, that’s for sure-”

“Stop picking on your pimples, Al” Finch casually said. The surprise look on Al’s face got Finch to side eye him with a giggle.

Al pulled his fingers away, stuttering in his movements but still continued on his words with more confidence, “What I’m trying to say is… I want to try again as long as you’re willing to”

There was a good few seconds of silence that Finch used to just stare at him. Albert could only wonder what he’s thinking about inside that head, “So we just… what? Forget the breakup ever happened? Move back in together? You know I can’t just do that, right?”

“That’s not what I mean. We don’t need to rush things. I know you can’t do that” Albert said, “Just… let me start by making it up to you? Whatever you want. Just name it”

Finch didn’t respond instantly, letting the silence between them linger for a few more minutes. But it’s deeply agonizing to Albert’s ears. A blank space of two eyes locked in a gaze, and one is obviously dying to get out of it.

“Please, say something” Albert begged. Hands suddenly reaching back up to his face to pick on his pimples again.

With a free hand, Finch reaches towards Al’s hand on his face. He pulls it down to the bars, holding it in place to make sure it doesn’t repeat its mistakes again. The grip was firm, but warm and calming to Albert’s soul. It made him go blank for a good few seconds from being so touch deprived of Finch’s soft hands. He retains his sense of reality when their eyes finally meet again.

With a little smile forming on Finch’s face, he finally answers, “I’d like that very much”

#random writing #newsies #redfinch #redfinch newsies #albert dasilva #albert newsies #finch cortez #finch newsies #tw cursing #tw alcohol #tw cigarettes #tw angst #validate me pls and thanku:)#unless you don't ship redfinch #which is understandable

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yhmisun · 4 years

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*//𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆: introducing 𝐘𝐄𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍!

hi petals 🥰 i'm so thrilled to be here with you all and bringing you this gullible little lioness!i promise i'll get to all ims soon, but my alias is penny, my pronouns are she/her and i'm in the est tz! this is my bby misun - the very soft-spoken principal of kwangsook academy. despite the shady way she ended up with it, she quite loves her job, as well as all the students and faculty at kwangsook :D i will have her full bio up sometime soon, but for now, you can find some relevant links and some bullet points under the cut! if you'd like to plot something out, feel free to hit the heart so i know and i'll come buzz you in ims! tw - brief mentions of death cw - workplace affair

statistics. // bio. // headcanons. // plots. // musing blog. // pinterest.

━ ❖ (kim ahyoung “yura,” cis female, she/her) hey thank you for coming to town hall to update your information yeo misun! you’re a citizen correct? good to know! are you enjoying yourself around yunhwa? you’ve been staying here two years right? i’m glad! remind me, are you born on 14/12/1992? we’re so lucky to have someone so dedicated around as a principal at kwangsook academy even if sometimes you can be credulous. hope to see you around the house #3034, hwesakgu!

born and raised in busan, the city was imbued in misun's veins. she was in love with how the highest skyscrapers mingled with the clouds on overcast days and how life always seemed to be racing by. her childhood was a happy one, as she gained a younger brother and sister along the way.

her mother was a science teacher and her father a commercial fisherman at the local dock. it wasn't uncommon for him to be gone for weeks at a time in order to bring an income into the household, so misun was often left in charge of her younger siblings. it was something she thrived at honestly, as she'd always had this nurturing way about her. she didn't even argue with her siblings much, she mostly just played peacekeeper when they fought amongst themselves.

she ran through the typical cycle of dream occupations as any child would. she had a particularly tight grasp on astronomy for awhile, but she also always appreciated her mother's work in the field of education.

misun could be be rather mild-mannered, but she loved to run free in the yard, as if the fence that boxed it in existed in another realm entirely. as she grew older, she picked up several hobbies that always seemed to lend to a tranquil state of mind, as it was her favorite feeling in the world. painting and surfing were two of her favorite things to do, once she learned the basics of them. some of her most cherished memories of her father were the trips they took to the beach whenever he was home for the week so that he could see what she had learned for himself. she'd never forget the proud smile he wore.

[tw:death] she was fourteen when her father's boat sank in the korea strait, he and all of his crew being lost in the tragedy. they were at least able to hold a funeral for him; and misun always knew it was something that could happen in the logical side of her brain - but that was rarely the side she wanted to agree with. it was extremely hard on the family for his already too brief presence to have lessened to nothing, and it was years before any sense of normalcy was felt. [end tw]

it was fortunate that misun was so prone to being a parental figure in the household, as she was able to help her mother with her brother and sister while the woman grieved. it was simply in misun's nature to forego her own feelings to give another what they needed.

there was a desperate need for the lost income to be restored in some way, as her father had been the primary breadwinner for the family. her mother's salary as a teacher simply wasn't going to hold four people afloat in the city for very long. misun spent years juggling her workload in school along with working part-time, putting her all into not only bringing home good grades that her mom could be proud of, but helping to keep the family's bills paid, as well.

by the time she graduated, misun had excelled so much in her studies, that she was offered two different scholarships, both of which would have easily covered the expenses of attaining her degree, a miraculous offer for the family who had no way to afford college for any of the three children in it.

the college experience was everything misun had hoped for; a chance to better herself, find herself and take a bit of a break from the full workload she'd been carrying for so long. she still worked part time, so that she could slowly add to the college funds of her brother and sister while she attended school herself, but it was nice to have such a heavy focus on her studies.

she'd come to find that she wanted to go beyond teaching. she enjoyed the thought of administrative duties in the school system; fighting the good fight so that students could always have the help they needed to prosper. it wasn't just about filling their brains with meaningless facts they'd forget over a summer anymore - it was about making sure they had the tools to make it in life.

while she did receive some brief classroom training as a teacher in her initial transition, once misun got her master's degree, she was able to fill the position of principal at one of the schools in the city. she fell in love with it immediately, as it fit right in with her facilitating nature. she had a knack for keeping the peace around the school and making sure things ran smoothly so that all the teachers and other faculty could do their jobs properly.

she even had a positive working relationship with the local school board and her superiors, one of whom seemed to have taken quite a shine to her. he'd find any opportunity to speak with her, even about the silliest things. it was quite odd for misun to see him go back and forth from a very personable man to a very stuffy superintendent on an almost weekly basis, but there was definitely something charming about him.

before she really knew it, he'd swept misun off her feet entirely. suddenly they were sharing their lunch breaks at romantic cafes and making excuses to see each other during inconvenient times. misun always saw the best in people, and the things she saw in him made her feel love on an intense plane. she felt special with him; wanted. she might have said he'd broken down all her barriers, if she'd ever bothered to put them up.

as sweet as the feelings were, she supposed she knew the relationship was inappropriate considering that he was practically her boss. still, she didn't want to let go of the happiness she felt, and that she thought he had felt to.

it wasn't long before he informed her of his suspicions that some of his co-workers had an inkling he was having an affair with one of the school faculty members in the area. he seemed to know it was only a matter of time before the truth would come out, so he would cover his tracks. he would make sure no one ever found out.

initially, they were only meant to 'cool things off' a bit so that the suspicion would die down. admittedly, if word got out about them, misun knew it would be quite the scandal, and he may have to step down from his position. it seemed like the logical thing to do to lay low for awhile.

she didn't see the next part coming, though; apparently it had been decided that she would take the hit entirely, in order to save them both. her superintendent had crafted the brilliant plan to transfer her to kwangsook academy out in the small town of yunhwa and away from the city that she'd always known and loved. she wouldn't have to worry, he'd told her. the job was all but hers after the glowing recommendation he gave her. 'thank goodness, right? now you won't have to face any humiliation.'

she was confused, hurt and more angry than she had ever been in her life. as lovely as yunhwa was, it wasn't her home back in busan. it wasn't her school district. why was it her life that had been uprooted, and hers alone? was he suffering any undesired changes in his life in the city? did he even care at all that she was gone?

still though, misun's resilience remained steadfast, even after her heart was broken. as bitter as she was about the forced move, she'd been given a job to do, and she was going to going to do it right. getting used to the small town lifestyle has been a major adjustment for her, but she's not really one to complain about her circumstances.

two years on, and she remains in yunhwa, functioning as the head of kwangsook academy. as lost as she'd felt initially, she's come to fit in at the school at last. she's a rather amicable person who gets along well with the other teachers and staff members. she's always willing to lend a helping hand when it's needed, and is extremely dedicated to making sure the school has everything it needs in the way of funding, materials, healthy lunches and meaningful extracurriculars. as unassuming as misun can be sometimes, she's very protective of her students!

#introyh #/pls forgive me for how long this got!!

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a-libra-writes · 5 years

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SFW Alphabet - Ramsay Snow

OhhHHHh BOy lets uh, lets do it guys. Let’s chill with Ramsay boy. Damn you Iwan Rheon

Sorry for slow updates, its been uh …. Week, for everyone, and im slowly getting back into my old groove. I’m tryna catch up with requests, which is what this is!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

When Ramsay wants you in his arms or misses tasting your lips, he seeks you out immediately. Oftentimes, his affection is overwhelming and he usually disregards whatever you’re in the middle of. His hugs can be too tight, his kisses are hungry and rough. He doesn't know how else to be; that's just his default.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

His capacity for actual friendship is questionable, but Ramsay knows how to fake amiability. He can be very charming when he puts his mind to it, and he has several like-minded men who follow him, although you question if that's actual "friendship".

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

You'd notice that Ramsay would get into these moods where he wanted you close as possible, so he'd capture you in an embrace and stubbornly keep you in it until he's satisfied. If it's during the day, fine, but when he does it at night you get too warm … well, it's not terrible when it's cold outside. He always holds too tight, and if you're shorter, he always rests his chin on your head. His grip loosens when he falls asleep, so you can wiggle out easier if it's getting too hot.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ramsay never had interest in such things, even with his father lecturing him about having a proper highborn wife and producing heirs. It's not interesting enough for him, and while he did marry you, you were something of an exception. For cooking, he's actually quite good at cleaning animals and roasting them, and he'll do it now and again even if there's a full kitchen staff in the Dreadfort. Cleanliness is another matter entirely. He's finally dressing like a proper lord, but he'll still leave his things in disarray.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

… Messily.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He initially had little regard for commitment. He had all sorts of mistresses and girls, and if they became jealous or angry, he'd do away with them. He wasn't looking forward to martial duty, either. However, he makes dozens of exceptions for you, not just in this case. You two may have been arranged to marry, but he finds you far too amusing to bother straying.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

For the most part, he rarely is. Ramsay always seems overcome by some strong emotion when he’s with you, and he can be a little much in how he expresses that affection. There are times when he’s just too rough when he’s with you, especially when you’re intimate, and you need to scold him and tell him to knock it off. There are times when he appears calm, but you know he’s simmering on something. However, as time went on, you began to notice that he’s had days where he’s quietly observed you or held you more carefully, as he remembered your earlier words and wanted to please you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Ramsay wouldn’t consider his overwhelming embraces “hugs”, he’d actually find that a strange way to put it. He didn’t recall receiving anything like that in his childhood, after all, and when you give him a simple one, he pulls you into a full embrace instead. He’s very warm, and his arms are strong as he holds you tight. You can hear the rumble of his laugh as you rest against his chest. While he likes it when you hug him, he prefers his method.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He said those words fairly early, and at first you thought he was mocking you. Maybe he was at the time, putting on his sweet voice and petting your hair, and he only laughed when you slapped his hand away. He started saying it every other day, just to see that annoyed look on your face, or better, when you’d shove him aside. Roose told him not to agitate you, but Ramsay was having too much fun with his new “wife”.

You didn’t notice when he stopped saying it regularly, just because he had a slew of other little problems you had to deal with. Managing the Dreadfort meant there was never a dull day, between your dear husband’s hobbies and your father-in-law’s looming presence. What you did notice is that Ramsay would become increasingly more clingy, his jealousy was triggered more easily, and he was far more greedy when you slept with him. He used to just drop by a few times a week to bother you, but now he seemed to want to find you several times throughout your day.

He was getting quite attached, you noticed, which wasn’t entirely bad. Sometimes he was even sweet, even if he had that mischievous glint the whole time. Then, on a fairly innocuous day, Ramsay said the words again as he was leaving. Your ears burned a little, because they sounded different. He didn’t even seem to notice; he was already gone. For better or for worse, the Dreadfort’s bastard was very taken with you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ramsay is terrible with his jealousy, so you know to discourage the more unscrupulous lords and soldiers that visit the Dreadfort. Basic courtesies are fine, but you’re wary of any man giving a little too much attention to your dress or looks. Even if they’re just trying to flatter the Lady of the Dreadfort, you know it won’t end well for them if Ramsay overhears. You find it difficult to pity the more lecherous men, however.

His jealousy manifests as possessiveness, and you’re sure that he doesn’t think through it at all. Sometimes it’s an instant reaction, pulling you to him and away from a flirting lord, sometimes it’s a more violent one, especially if he can get away with it. More than once you’d have to pull Ramsay away and soothe him, telling him to think of what his father would say. When you two are alone, he suddenly wants every part of you, leaving deep love bites on your neck and breasts while he rips at your dress.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Ramsay’s kisses are hard and hungry, as if he’s starved for your attention, even if you’ve been giving him plenty all night. He likes to bite at your lip and bite down to your neck, and if any blood is drawn, he wants to lick it up right away. He almost always has to hold you close or push you against a wall while he does this, which is good, because sometimes you feel a little dizzy afterward. He loves your lips and leaving love bites on your chest - you’re pretty confident he prefers dresses that are more difficult to move and unlace, just because he wants to rip them.

He isn’t too picky where you return the affections. He just wants your attention. He’ll be more than happy if you initiate the kisses first, however, it’s a surefire way to distract him from whatever he was doing.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you didn't want children, Ramsay wouldn't mind, even if it was both your duties to provide heirs. He would leave childcare to you or the septa, although sometimes looking at your child would amuse him. He'd like it if the girls took after you and the boys would be more similar to him.

Ramsay would be much more involved once the children were older. When he was feeling patient, he'd teach them archery and hunting, even the girls -- he'd be just as proud of a daughter being able to kill her first deer. If a child particularly took after him, he'd give them a hound and teach them how to train it.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s usually got a strong arm wrapped around you and bringing you close to him. Your usual morning routine is wiggling out from under him and getting ready to wash up. You’re just about to leave the bath when Ramsay finally joins you, still looking a little bleary-eyed but very awake and wanting your attention right away. He might keep you in the baths a little longer, or he’ll follow you about as you get ready. Some mornings you wake up cold and realize he left at some point; he eventually joins you again at breakfast, completely awake and full of energy. You can only imagine what he was getting up to.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Ramsay prefers to go to bed at the same time as you, but sometimes he gets completely absorbed in… whatever his amusement of the day is, and he’ll walk into your shared chambers smelling like mud, blood and the woods. He’ll only obey your order to take a bath if you join him, and of course he’ll want to touch you and kiss you wherever he pleases. This will continue to the bed because it’s a very, very rare night when Ramsay doesn’t want his lovely wife.

He often sleeps without any clothes, or just his pants, so you’ve got a bare chest that’s as hot as a furnace to rest against… Which, in the winter, is quite nice, but otherwise can be too much. Sometimes he’s let go of you in his sleep or you’ve scooted from under him. If you’re especially cold, you can rest against his whole back and wrap your arm around his stomach. He sleeps so deeply, he doesn’t even notice when your cold feet touch him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

When you first married Ramsay, he’d say the most outlandish and terrible things, just to get a reaction out of you. You learned to stop giving him the feedback he wanted and sometimes you’d say equally ridiculous and awful things, just to stun him, but he’d only be more amused. It ended up being a sort of morbid game between you two.

“You’re late to dinner, dear husband, that’s the third time this week. Seeing your mistress, no doubt.”

“I was, my lovely wife, but first I took care of that soldier you smiled at so much. Would you like to see him?”

“Perhaps after dinner. Did you clean up, at least? If the halls or the hounds are bloody, I’m going to be very cross.”

Roose isn’t amused by any of this.

Ramsay would tell you truthful things when you never expected it. Sometimes he’d watch you brush your hair and suddenly mention something about his mother - what he remembered, anyway - or you’d pick up his bow and he’d eagerly tell you how he learned. The way he’d talk and look at you was very different from back when he tried to scare you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

You can never really predict what will set Ramsay off entirely or what will just make him simmer. You know better than to say “bastard”, because you aren’t an idiot, but sometimes his temper with his men and the servants wasn’t consistent. With you, he never had any sort of explosive wrath, but you didn’t notice times when he was almost pouting because of your refusal to aknowledge whatever stupid thing he was doing at the time. If he was truly angry with you, he’d storm out of the room and take it out on some unlucky soul.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You never expected Ramsay to be attentive to such things, but sometimes you’d notice he’d hunt an animal you liked to eat, or he’d present you with a dress in the color you liked. He was always so proud of himself, it was almost endearing. Some days he just needed your approval.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s far more privy to you than you ever thought. Ramsay has quite a bit of your daily schedule memorized, he knows who you talk to the most in the Dreadfort, which handmaidens you’re friends with and which of his men is perhaps a little too eager to greet you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

For him, it had to be when you first pushed him down and straddled him. You were sick of his shit, he’d pushed you too far that day, and you bluntly told him how you felt. Ramsay held onto you in an instant but he did little else, just wanting you to get your anger out and excited to see where you went with it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s very protective, especially as his affection for you grew. More than anything, Ramsay wanted to protect you himself. If you two were travelling somewhere, he wanted to stay at your side, even if there were guards and you told him it would be fine. If you have to be left at the Dreadfort, he likes that even less, and when the war began he’d actually train his hounds to sleep outside your room. You kept telling him it was unnecessary, but at least the hounds behaved around you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Honestly, he’s pretty terrible about remembering any sort of birthday or anniversary. When you remembered his name day, he was taken aback and didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to do. Before the Dreadfort, and after he came to it, he’d never actually done anything like this. But Ramsay liked the attention you gave him, and he liked it when you were pleased with him.

While he never actively planned them, sometimes he’d whisk you away from whatever you were doing to show you something - sometimes it was archery, sometimes it was a new horse that you might like. It always surprised you, and you were amused by how boyish he could be when he was excited by something and wanted to share it with you. Of course, you preferred the talk of horses and archery as opposed to his more … distasteful interests.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You were fully aware of Ramsay’s violent actions and questionable little interests, and you wanted nothing to do with them. Compared to that, his jealousy and neediness paled, but those were still irksome when they appeared.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Ramsay is fairly indifferent to his hair or what he wears, but he started to like it when you fussed over him. You'd pat his hair down or brush off some dirt on his cloak, and he'd start to realize how much he liked it. Sometimes he'd be careless on purpose just to get your attention and feel your hands on him. If there was something you liked about his physical appearance, he'd start to feel a little proud about it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He wouldn’t say as much if anyone said it, in fact, he’d probably laugh at such words. But if anything were to happen to you, or you were taken from him, Ramsay would truly feel a deep, sinking bitterness that he couldn’t shake. He’d be far more irritable, and his usual amusements wouldn’t be enough. He might become more reckless and dangerous, if anything.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Ramsay suddenly got the idea in his head to teach you archery, and he became quite single-minded in it. He liked to stand behind you and give you instruction, sometimes biting your ear or kissing your neck if he felt you weren’t paying attention. Of course you’d elbow him and try to focus. You could swear he was proud when you hit your mark, and anytime he’d spy you practicing on your own, he’d just have to watch for a few minutes before he became restless and went out to meet you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s so used to women crying or begging around him, and men doing just the same. He likes the way you glare at him and defy him, even just outright ignore him. He’s no fool, Ramsay knows when you’re actually uncomfortable or even fearful, but the fact you don’t pull your steely gaze away from him and address him with such a harsh voice keeps him quite interested.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Ramsay sleeps like the dead. He doesn't stir or make much noise; he may as well be a sack of rocks. It takes enough strength to move out of his embrace, and you know better than to let him fall asleep on your chest. You'll be stuck there until morning. While he doesn't snore, you noticed that sometimes his eyebrows and lips will twitch. He looks unusually peaceful when he's asleep, so it's amusing to see that expression change into how he usually looks, even for just a moment. As deep as his sleep is, he's alert and ready to go shortly after he wakes up, even if his hair is in all directions.

#ramsay snow #ramsay snow x reader #sfw alphabet #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #this lil shit right here

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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hello hello its been a few days but i, the dream nonsie, am back! (also my name actually means "dream" irl 👀) personally, i think a silveny flavored popsicle would be cinnamon-y as u said, but also... sparkly? in a way? not- not like actual glitter, thats disgusting, but.. when u eat it it just *feels* magical. not sure if im making sense lol ^^ aww, glad my crazy dream made you happy! :D ask word limit is getting close so imma continue in another ask if thats okay with you! <3 1/?

hello!! welcome back--i gotta admit I was not expecting this, but it's so nice of you and I really appreciate it <33. I hope you don't mind me compiling this all into one post, that way it's just a little more organized. you're entirely welcome to send as many asks as you want, so don't worry about continuing in others! I don't mind at all!

1. oo that's a really cool name meaning!! I always think it's interesting to hear what other people's name mean, or they meanings they've chosen to associate with them (as some have more that one). Quil doesn't really have a meaning, so I love hearing others'!! The only thing I miss about my dead name is the meaning, tbh, because it was pretty !!

also, I can totally imagine the cinnamon/sparkly popsicle. when you say that I immediately think of sparkling water for some reason, like it's not a taste it's a feeling. you put it in your mouth and it's an experience. you're wild dream was probably the highlight of my day!! something about it just stood out and I kept coming back to think about it. long silveny popsicles can do that to you, i guess

2. oopsie! my bad! when someone says writing I usually just default to the wings au, because that's the writing most people know me for. but!! i'm glad you like all the analyses I've done! I don't think they'll be stopping anytime soon--it's like everytime I answer an ask I get two more, which means there will be a steady stream of them for the forseable future. I really enjoy doing them, so I love hearing that people enjoy reading them! they're mostly just me rambling until I find a pattern or connection to latch onto, and then I build from there. and depending on the ask I might grab a book from my shelf to reference something if needed

also: thank you! The wings au is a pretty big project I've wanted to take on for a while, so it's absolutely thrilling to see people interact with it and talk about it--even if they haven't read it. There's absolutely no pressure on you to read it, just so you know! Honestly sometimes baffles me that I've gotten fanart and so many asks and comments on it, enough so that people who haven't read it still know what it is. like?? my wings au?? silly little idea I had all because of one stray thought one day?

as for writing it while taking college classes: yes! that's what I've been doing! I think i've had a combined total of like three weeks of break since January (i don't get summer), but aside from that i've had four or five classes while writing the au. Actually was taking an A&P class (which are notoriously difficult, even more so on summer schedule) this summer while working on it, which was wild. But a lot of the excited comments and theories and general interaction helped motivate me to keep going.

3. it's not dissapointing at all! I don't expect for anyone to read it, it's not something you have to do in order to interact with me and the stuff on my blog. it's just something I happen to be doing so if you like it you're welcome to engage with it! I actually don't read fanfic very often either, which may be surprising as I write it. Occasionally I binge a bunch of fics in a certain ship when I'm in the mood, but that's only once every few months. Ships just don't hold huge appeal for me, so I don't find a lot of fic that interests me. Also wow! mine was one of the first you've heard of?? that's a huge accomplishment to me, thank you! Where did you hear about it? I honestly don't know where people find my au, so I'm curious.

speaking of reading fanfic, Nattie's (theunmappedstar) fic is one of the few I've read! I haven't talked to them in a while, but they're very accomplished and it's an honor to be considered alongside them in terms of writing!

as for committing to mine, feel free to take your time! no rush! it's always going to be there! although I will say it does just keep getting longer, so be prepared for that. I update every two weeks on sunday, so you've got time. if you do read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. truly, comments and just hearing what people think are the best motivation. it also enriches the story! I never know what's going to stick out to people or what they'll remember, so hearing from people gives me ideas for scenes in the future! I have a general idea of where this au is heading, but a lot of the details have been impacted by theories and comments. You absolutely don't have to though, just if you'd like I'd love to hear

4. thank you so much <33. I'd love to get back more into traditional art, as i've been focusing on digital recently. I just love how watercolors look! I actually have a few art requests from an embarrasingly long time ago (April) that I'd like to do in a traditional style. I also just haven't posted as much art recently, so I'd love to get back into that. Coloring and lighting were mostly me just winging it, trying to imagine a few colors that would look nice next to each other and then just going for it. Also, i cant even count how many times I would accidentally switch up the light source in in the middle of a piece. I actually took an art class a few semesters ago, so I have leftover supplies from that I could use for some keeper pieces! I've had a few ideas, so hopefully your encouragement can help me get back into that <33

the writer and artist thing: thank you!! both writing and art are interests of mine, so it's so cool to get recognized for both!! I remember when I started posting art I was doing it as a "I'll do this for now until I get to the writing" thing and then i accidentally became fairly well-known as an fanartist and i was just there like wait a minute this wasn't supposed to happen. But I love it!! I love doing fanart and I'd love to do more. But I also love writing! i have some ideas for aus and other one shots I'd like to do when the wings au is done, not that I'm trying to hurry that along. I thoroughly enjoy working on the wings au, and i'm not in any rush to get through it.

and don't worry, you have nothing to apologize for!! i'm glad you feel comfortable talking to me! You don't need to be concise or anything, you're welcome to take up as much space and use as many words as you'd like. I think it'd be a little hypocritical if i didn't believe that, considering how long my responses to the asks i get are (partially why they sometimes take a bit to answer). it was very much so a fun read!! I really appreciate you and wasn't even sure how to respond to everything in a way that conveyed that. I absolutely blown away by how genuine and sweet you are

i really loved this ask, and I've reread it several times because it's just so kind. thank you so much <33

#it's currently afternoon so I will try to have a good day!#I hope you have one too!#I've got some homework and a class in a few hours #but aside from that I'll kinda just chill #I know it's monday but we can try to have a good one!#I'm probably repeating myself but I don't know what else to say #i'm speechless /pos #quil's queries #long post #dream nonsie #nonsie love

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lgbtqstuff-va4 · 4 years

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Vu's HRT Journey (7 months, November 26 2020)

CW: Libido/sex drive mention, acne mention, blood, menstruation, slightly TMI near the end (I briefly mention sexual stuff in the "vaginal atrophy" section)

Hi... Sorry I haven't updated in like, three months. Life happened and I just.. Haven't had the energy to make these posts. But I decided that I should do an update while I'm feeling motivated.

One important thing I'm gonna note though, is that I recently changed my dosage. Between 4-21-2020 and 11-3-2020, I was doing 50 mg (.25mL) T (Cypionate) every two weeks (IM). As of 11-3-2020 I'm now doing that same dosage, except I'm doing it every week instead of every two weeks.

Anyways, let's get into my experiences

Body hair

My body hair has been doing the usual, I guess. Um... One thing I noticed recently, is that I now have like, one singular, long black strand of hair growing slightly under my chin. Which is weird-looking, but exciting! I'm at the very start of having.. A beard. Which is weird, but again, it's super exciting!! Um, I also noticed that like... Just above where my chin starts, like between my lower lip and my chin, there's some short, black hairs growing in. They're pretty hard to see right now, but yeah. I also shaved my face for the first time(!!) a couple weeks ago. I only shaved my upper lip since that was the only like, actually noticeable facial hair I had at the time, but it was a neat experience anyways... And then I immediately regretted the choice lmaO. I HATE HOW IT LOOKS AND FEELS TO NOT HAVE THAT BBY MOUSTACHE THERE... but it's actually growing back in at a nice pace.

Throat/voice

My voice has definitely been getting gradually lower. Emphasis on gradually. But yeah. I've noticed that there are like, certain songs I like, and there are certain parts that were too low-pitched for me to hit three, two, and sometimes even one month ago... But now I'm actually able to hit them? Or at least sort of hit them? Which is like... Really cool, tbh. My voice has obviously been cracking often, and I've had like three times of note where it happened at work when I was talking to a co-worker... Oofers.

Sex drive

It could just be due to stress (caused by things in my personal life), but for a good two to three weeks this month, my sex drive just... Took a nosedive. Idk why. It seems like it's getting back up there again, but yeah.

Acne/sweat

I've... Been breaking out so bad over the last month or two 😩 (weary emoji) I've obviously been having a lot of acne since I started T, but my god. My jawline specifically has been breaking out a lot, but also? My back... I can't do anything to get rid of it 😔 (pensive emoji)

Bottom growth/general feelings "down there"

I'm over half a year into T, and honestly? I don't think I've had like, any bottom growth. At all. It's pretty annoying tbh

Body fat redistribution

Also haven't noticed any changes with this yet :/ my mom's pointed out that my face apparently looks kinda different, and I think I see what she means? Or maybe I'm just imagining it, idk. I still have this stupid hourglass shape though, and I hate it.

Mood/emotions

Ehhhhh idk. I've had a really stressful month, and it's also been a very weird month for everyone, so it's hard to really pinpoint what's being caused by T, and what's being caused by other things. Idk... I'm sorry I can't describe how my emotions have been lately to y'all :/

The gross thing (i.e. menstrual bs)

Unfortunately, I've been having the gross thing... And generally speaking, it hasn't gotten any lighter/less frequent. I went from the beginning of August to late October without one, but since late October I've been having them happen about once a month. Which, honestly sucks :/

Vaginal atrophy

Haven't noticed too much here. I mean yeah, there's slight dryness, but it's not bone-dry in there, yknow? I also noticed recently that I drew bl**d while doing.. Sexual stuff?? It was only a little bit, but still. I was kind of being too rough that time though... Sjdjjdjcjjcjf (Also... Me? Feeling kind of flustered by talking about this? It's more likely than you think)

So... Yeah. I'm gonna try getting back to doing these updates, but I might do them every two months instead of every month now. Idk. I guess we'll see what happens. Thanks for reading!

#vus hrt experiences #vus personal stuff #ok to rb #hrt #hrt journey #testosterone #started t on april 21 2020 #tw blood #tw menstruation #not sfw #long post #mine

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jwnbwnjwn · 4 years

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Entry 8 (12.20.2020)

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted an entry on here. My last one was back in September, and man a lot has happened since. First off, My sleeping schedule has been messed up for the past couple of days, and in a bit I’ll get to why. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it in any of the last posts but, if I didn’t then my goal for the last couple of months has been to get on a (keto) diet and lose some weight, and I’m here to tell you I still haven’t, I haven’t even stuck to a diet for that matter. The only diet I’ve had has consisted of take out and midnight snacks. Anyways, now let’s get down to business. I went ahead and read my latest blog post before this and I laughed at the fact that I said I was starting a diet, yeah that never happened. Im happily at 160 lbs at the moment (not really happy about it but oh well).

I mean covid-19 is still going on, its kinda spiking then calming down, spiking again, and its just this whole repeating situation. Everyone's still wearing and masks and doing everything to be safe, although I think my towns cases are starting to go down. It is around Christmas time so they’re starting to decorate everything, all the parks and stuff; so hopefully that doesn't spike the numbers up again. When going out though I still have to be careful, I can’t catch covid and give it to my loved ones, and I would rather not make history and get sick.

I guess I should start here. I wish my life was still the same as it was during my last entry. I really do. I wouldn’t have known what I do now and I would’ve just been at peace, happily living my life and struggling with school. I ended up getting a D in that biology course, and dropping that math and history course. Yeah, it was a pretty shitty school year tbh. I’ve never been that lazy and unmotivated when it comes to school but man, this fall year really took a toll on me because I legit did nothing all year. In result of it, my gpa went to absolute shit and down to a 2.8. I now gotta make that up during the summer and try to get it as high as i possibly can. I just finished my second fall semester so I’ve been on Christmas break for about a week now, but honestly this break feels so lazy and gross. I am reading my last entry to see what I can catch everyone up on, as things have changed drastically. I mean my friendships are still fine, I still keep in contact with seatbelt and ice and maria. I keep in contact with them almost daily honestly. About my relationship, thats where I wish things were the way they were three months ago. Without going over too much detail, a girl reached out to me and let me know her boyfriend and Mr. were trading girls nudes again. Honestly hearing this a second time broke my heart, but I really didnt have much of a reaction to it. It hurts every here and there, but I guess im forcing myself to open my heart and forgive and forget so I can go ahead and move on already. Mr. and I are in a certain situation trying to avoid law enf*rc*m*nt so things have been kind of hard recently. He’s been seeing me many times this week just because of the fear itself that one day might be his last time to see me, but I think things are starting to cool down with our/his situation, so hopefully he’s not walking on eggshells too longer, because seeing him worried makes me worried and vice versa. He’s looking into going to therapy and having a closer relationship between him and god, in order to get rid of his old ways and make himself into the better person he needs to become. I can’t really get into details about the situation on here as it legit would be the most dumbest thing I could possibly do, but in result of getting closure about it, he told me he was planning on purposing in the near future, like before 2021 is over - but then he had to go fuck it up and put that on hold. After talking about it we’re going to have to attend counseling once again, but in hopes of fixing our relationship and getting closer again. I love him a lot, I do, but man he is one dumb ass person. I really hope and pray he gets his stuff together, because I really do want to spend the rest of my life with him. I mean, I guess we’re kind of in an awkward part in our relationship, but its honestly because of the situation we’re in, so we just have to work through this and rebuild the trust he ruined. I know he’s going to be going to individual counseling for sure, but I have a feeling that’s just going to turn into couples counseling the way it happened the first time. I hope I can get myself to go into counseling for myself as well, because man, I really do want to work through these issues I have deep down inside of me, but I can’t find the courage I need at the moment - maybe after all of this is done I will. Mr.’s dad is still really sick, but im still praying to god and the heavens above he gets better. I’ve been talking to my dad a lot and my relationship has been improving, while my moms and I’s is kind of going backwards slowly. About those two discord friends, I dont know why I put “crunch” as one of them. I forgot what his first nickname was, but I know it wasn crunch. I mean his name is cesar, so i guess i got mixed up lol but yeah i’m not friends with c*sar and shr*mp anymore. I mean I got really close with him, and I did consider im an important person in my life, until one day I logged onto Discord to see he kicked me out of the server and blocked me, which eventually resulted in everyone from the server blocking me and deleting me off roblox so, I pretty much had no say in it. There wasn't even a reason TO block me, I legit just logged on randomly and was blocked. Although I found out through someone else who was also in the server before he himself blocked me that apparently I was jealous of shr*mp and I guess calling c*sar manipulative got him upset and thinking so he blocked me lmao. Anyways, because of this I dont really play Roblox that often anymore, but instead I watch anime now. Currently waiting on AOT’s new episode releasing today so, thats something exciting to look forward to. I cant wait for christmas just so i can see the look on my siblings face when they see what I got them lol. I also got Mr. a chain bracelet, so I hope he likes it and actally wears it. There’s not really much else except being on eggshells with Mr. and wasting my life away. I’ll keep you guys updated. I’ll try to post on here more often.

Ended this at 12.20.2020 at 8:27 AM

-jen

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thisnerdsadventures · 5 years

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march happenings + semester updates

hey everyone! on my spring break, and i’m doing great :) just got back from a trip to DC for fun (where i also unfortunately had a stomach bug that quarantined me in the hotel for a day). here are some things i did in the last month and some things i’m looking forward to for april!

took part in a design exercise for housing

held a quidditch event where we built a $400 lego set and watched goblet of fire. nearly fell asleep at the event because it was dark and i had eaten too many cookies

got pho with my friends! we walked to chinatown from around park street, so we passed by the theatre district, which was fun because one of them is a HUGE fan

saw a celtics game with some of my mitmunc friends and left right before they made a comeback against the kings and right before my friends got their faces on the jumbotronl .i t s f I N E

won our first game with my dorms basketball team! it was legit highlight so far for the semester. we also spammed our dorm 5 times and everyone on campus is starting to know that we have a basketball team and its highkey a meme, but also seriously the coolest thing ever???

getting to know the rest of exec on house gov more!! they’re so cool and awesome, super happy I’m working with them this year. I also applied for an exec position on MITMUNC, so we’ll see if they let me meme with them

got hot pot with my other friends and ate too much at once and then i lied on my floor for an hour strumming my friends ukulele in food coma/pain while she improv vocalized

recorded some electronic music studio stuff, first time for me. if this post gets 10k likes i’ll post it

spontaneously went to see the hacker murals (or the remnants of) with one of my friends. it’s a shame to see them fenced in and being painted over, they really are works of art and school history and should be treated as such. :/

got pizza lunch with my friend [WHO I AM ABSOLUTELY GOING BIKING TO IHOP WITH IN THE NEXT TWO MONTHS SOME TIME @YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE]

saw captain marvel!!! i’m super psyched to go see endgame in a month

flew home, going to santa monica tmr with a high school friend :’)

MADE THIS FOR MY CLASS - PLS CHECK IT OUT I THINK ITS HELLA COOL

this is the first spring break in a while that i haven’t felt completely dead going into, and honestly am feeling ready to go back and finish off the semester. I’ve been religiously working out and keeping in shape (i was needing motivation there for a while, but now i’m keeping it up for the bball team), and I’ve been eating pretty well too, tryna cut out excess sugar and dairy. I only had one midterm which i gloriously scored average on (58% raw lol) and almost cried out of happiness because i was starting to doubt everything i knew by the end of the exam, including my name and the date on the exam cover. I also spent the last two days before break working on this report for one of my classes, which i felt either could result in a complete disaster of a grade or one of the best things we’ve ever done, but nothing in between. So i guess we’ll see!!1!!!!1!1

Looking forward to APRIL!!! FOR LIKE SEVENTY THOUSAND REASONS:

i’m honestly treating this whole basketball thing with the same respect i’d treat the high school season, so really putting in my all and eating more and working out on a schedule and practicing a lot more, so that’s gonna be a big part of my april

my company from over IAP is visiting for the spring career fair, so we’re going bowling next wednesday :’)

my friends and i are going to hackDartmouth next weekend!

CPW OF COURSE, IM SUPER EXCITED :D i’m a volunteering a ton for my dorm and for quidditch, and i’m also doing a dorm tour for the first time which should be a whole meme

seeing les mis the week after! with the same friends i went to get pho with

i’m guessing springfest is a thing but idk tbh LOL

two months until i start my internship! so excited for that too :D

also note, good luck to all the kids waiting on ivy decisions!!!! i know they literally come out in like 8 minutes, but seriously, good luck, and remember that decisions aren’t a reflection of your intelligence or worth, that you are enough because you tried as hard as you could at the time and you should be proud of yourself for that!!!! you’ll all end up doing something super cool at super cool places and you’re going to be so so happy, know this <3

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harry-niclach · 6 years

Text

Crowns part 13 (End)

Title : Crowns

Previous | Masterlist |

Important A/N: This is the last chapter. There are two other endings, one is angst and the other is also angst! Woo! I’m sad to see the story end but there will be a sequel and I will write the sh*t out of it, I will keep the taglist safe for Crowns 2 (which I still need a title for) It might not be as long and it might not have a schedule because it will all be written on the spot whereas this was written in 8 months and was pre-written when I was uploading all I had to do was split chapters. Anyway I hope you enjoy the original ending and there will soon be links to the alternative endings, I love you all so much and I really appreciate the support, this is one of those things I was scared to write and it’s the first story I’ve ever properly written, again I love you all so much, enjoy! Also quick note, I know I missed last week’s update but I wanted to end on time and you will get just the end of the story and two extra endings I hope that makes up for it! -Harry

Pairings: Romantic Analogical (Logan and Virgil) and Platonic/Familial Royality (Roman and Patton) and some oc and side characters!

Warnings: very mild Panic, Panic attack, Minor Character Death, Illness, Cuts from falling, Swearing, blood, weapons, sword fighting/knife fighting, I think that’s them all? If you want anything tagged don’t feel afraid to ask, your wellbeing is more important than the five minutes it would take to add the warning.

Summary: Virgil has always been alone. He didn’t believe that there was a place for him out there. So when his Mother left him a quick to turn Father he seemed more alone than ever. Now, however, someone is trying to help him, what can their reasoning be?

And more importantly, can Virgil stop himself from being too gay and falling for him?

Today would be no different form any other day, they would go to the market gather supplies not only for training and for the guards but for the servants and the staff and Logan would even go on to grab some things for the people in the town who had been really helpful not only getting Virgil set up in a house of his own but those who did the gardens and those who painted the houses and such, he wanted show the work was noticed and that he was thankful.

They had grabbed everything they needed by now and they were just wondering as the market was a dangerous place but it was such a wondrous place too, they were so many things and so many people of different groups with different looks and- everything was just so strangely new and wonderful.

Logan enjoyed the market for so many reason usually because he frequented the book stalls and there was always a new book to read, Virgil loved the array of things you could find at the market,

“Is that-that everything-thing?” Virgil spoke up as he walked side by side with Logan,

“I believe so but we can wonder for longer if you’d like?” Logan was wearing a satchel and a backpack while Virgil wasn’t holding any bags even though he had offered to carry things Logan had told him that he needed to be able to quickly draw and or attack did it come to that,

“Yeah, that w-would be nice.” Virgil sounded so soft and Logan found himself falling even more.

They had been wondering for such a long time, but they didn’t really mind, what they didn’t know was that they should have left earlier.

They were nearing the entrance where they had left their horse’s (Logan’s white one and Virgil’s brown and black one) but they were stopped by someone from the South, well no, actually two from the South Kingdom, and the worst bit? It was the Prince and someone -presumably his advisor- that were now stood in front of them.

The Prince was quick to draw his sword and stand in front of his not-very-official looking advisor, Virgil moved even faster to stand in front of Logan but he never revealed his knives or the fact that they were even there,

“Stay away from his Majesty King Logan,” Virgil’s voice was calm and cold,

“What are you going to do cupcake?” Prince Roman was very cocky and Virgil couldn’t stand the meer air of condescension that this guy, Prince or not, was radiating,

“Don’t test me,” Virgil was very quiet and he was concentrating solely on the four of them, everything else didn’t matter,

“You can’t possibly beat me, not with nothing and judging by the size of you, that would never work,” Roman had full confidence in the fact that this-this-kid! Couldn’t take him on, but he had never been more wrong.

Roman in a moments notice charged at Logan, and Virgil at a faster pace reached under his cloak for two knives one for each hand and blocked every swing from Roman immediately, Logan was impressed to say the least.

While Roman brought his sword up Virgil was already predicting where he would swing, but this time Roman brought the sword up very high, he was getting frustrated with this boy, he didn’t see through his frustration that he had left his right side wide open to attack, Virgil took the opportunity.

He struck at Romans side with one slice, he didn’t want to cut him too bad he just wanted to scare him away, or at least detour him a little, but it didn’t seem to be working so he went for the idea of taking Roman down to the ground but not stabbing him,

“Roman stop fightin’ im!” Patton tried to stop the fight but Roman couldn’t hear him over his frustration, the slight sting in his side, and his concentration, he kept attacking Virgil but he hadn’t landed a single hit because Virgil’s defense seemed so strong and well built but he was determined to break it,

Even if he had to use words to do it.

“You don’t seem like you belong here. Nevertheless in the Kingdom of the North,” Roman was just acting now. Virgil was determined not to let it show that Roman was getting to him, even just with two sentences but he couldn’t help it,

That had hurt.

Logan could see the way Virgil froze for a second but it wasn’t enough to put him in danger, he was worried that Virgil wouldn’t be able to take the Prince’s words but he had faith in him, and he was beginning to think that…

He loved him.

Patton didn’t want them to fight, he really didn’t and the small boy dressed in purple seemed pretty cool, so why was Roman fighting him? They didn’t even speak! Fighting never got anyone anywhere. Patton had experience and he knew that. The question was,

How many others did?

Virgil was on the defense for one more hit before he went on the attack. As Roman lifted his sword for another big swing Virgil dodged around him and elbowed Roman in the ribs beforehe kicked him in the back of the left knee, as Roman fell Virgil caught his arm and twisted it so his sword fell before he pushed Roman to the ground and then sat on top of him so there was no way he could get up.

He only sat there for a minute, exactly, and then he turned to Logan,

“W-what do you want-want me to d-do?” His tone seemed innocent but no one was going to take that and provoke him,

“We should let him go but don’t give him the sword back until we are a safe distance away,” Logan’s voice was cold and monotone but it held an undertone of relief and his eyes said he was impressed and proud.

Virgil grabbed Roman’s sword before he got off of him, Roman had stopped bleeding though as the slash was only small, as soon as Virgil as off of Roman, Patton rushed to his side and helped im up,

“I told you shouldn’ have fighted him!” Patton chided Roman but before they could go he ran up to Virgil, who tensed at the former,

“Hey! thanks for not killin’ my friend! You seem real cool and I ‘ppreciate it!” Patton then ran off to join Roman as they left the market, no longer wanting to shop, Patton had Roman’s sword in his hand as he didn’t trust Roman to walk away without causing a fight.

“Virgil, you did incredibly well, but I would like to ask if you are okay? Because the words that Prince Roman said seemed harsh and I want to quell any worried you might have, you do, in fact, belong here and I would testify that forever,” Logan’s voice was softer now and he seemed to want to comfort Virgil but he also seemed awkward and stiff, but he was trying.

And that was all Virgil could ask for.

-----

Alternate Ending 1

Alternate ending 2

---

The ending that you just read is the original ending and here the sequeal will continue from but I had a couple other ideas for endingd so those alternative ones are just bonuses I guess for being late and silent for so many days and weeks now, I hope you can forgive me and that you have enjoyed Crowns Book One, I love you all so much and the support has been overwhelming and it has made me so happy, again I love you all so much and I hope you have a wonderful day, I hope i could make you happy with my stories

:) <3

Taglist:

@jadekitten1 @super-magical-wizard @impossiblebluebirdcreation @fury-of-rome @karmels-stuff @dead4sevenyears @pumpkinminette@aroundofaceapplesauce @disneyfanatic77

#crowns #my writing #harry writes #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #analogical #royality #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #fanfic #ts-storytime 2018 submission

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 3

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Read on Ao3!)

Dan’s in the middle of his break, scrolling through his phone, when a text notification appears at the top of his screen. He drops his bagel into his lap, cursing.

The text is from Phil. He doesn’t know any other Phil’s, so it has to be AmazingPhil, texting him, inexplicably.

He clicks the notification, eyes wide, simultaneously scooping up the bagel bits that have fallen onto his knees.

From: Phil To: Dan im in makeup for a weird photoshoot for some korean clothing brand and they just put loads of silver goo in my hair to make it chromey

As Dan is reading the message, searching between the lines for a reason Phil might be telling him this information, another text pings through.

From: Phil To: Dan whoops, i kinda meant to send that to PJ. but hey, if you’re interested, here’s a pic of me with ‘Kpop Idol Silver Hair Paste’ in lol xx

From: Phil To: Dan [image]

The phone slips from Dan’s fingers, clattering through his legs to the floor of the staff room. Phil has sent him a selfie. An un-edited, un-Instagrammed photo of his breathtaking face, up close. Sure, there’s a weird silvery goop in his usually raven hair, but still. Gingerly, Dan retrieves the phone, a small, strangled sound escaping from his throat as he surveys the image in front of him.

It makes a little more sense now that Phil has informed him that he had actually mistakenly texted the original message, but did the guy really have to follow up with a photo? He must, surely, be aware of Dan’s crush. He witnessed the brunt of Dan’s obsessive stalking in person on his phone, after all.

Bagel entirely forgotten, Dan just stares down into the pixelated blue of Phil Lester’s eyes, wondering how to respond, and if he even should. Deciding eventually that it would be rude not to, Dan shakily types out something he hopes is vaguely witty.

From: Dan To: Phil hahaha wow :’) kpop? more like kpoop. (it looks like bird poop, sorry dude.) x

From: Phil To: Dan hahaha it does ur so right. and if you think thats bad you should see the outfits… xx

Settling back into his chair, Dan bites his lip. As he thinks of a potential response, his eyes wander over to the spot, just to the right of him, where he and Phil had stood not long ago, when it had seemed like maybe, possibly, Phil might’ve…

But obviously that’s absurd.

Dan’s wishful thinking had clearly driven him to the point of hallucination, because the very notion that Phil Lester, AmazingPhil, the famous Instagram model, would ever have looked at Dan as anything more than a random bartender, is laughable.

Dan sighs to himself, then smirks. Well, just because he has no chance, doesn’t mean he can’t utilise his semi-connection to the celebrity to get some behind-the-scenes footage of his fave.

From: Dan To: Phil well now i have to see x

There’s a noticeable pause, and Dan wonders, panicking vaguely, if he may have pushed too far. Is it a little much to ask this of Phil? Maybe he just won’t respond, and Dan will have to quit his job forever, or maybe just spend his shifts on red alert that Phil will wander into the bar, and hide from him if he does-

He texts back.

From: Phil To: Dan [image]

From: Phil To: Dan hot, right? xx

For two long, uninterrupted minutes, Dan is frozen. Then, he lets out a muffled groan of frustration. The photo Phil sent is a full body shot taken by someone else; he’s dressed in an asymmetrical long white t-shirt with several long rips through the chest, some bright pink camouflage trousers, and a shiny silver puffer jacket with a black fur-lined hood. The outfit is a complete disaster, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. His chest is visible through the slits in the tee; having seen it twice now IRL, Dan is drawn to the slivers he can see. The trousers make his eyes pop, and the jacket matches the silver streaked through his hair.

His pose is casual, feet apart, smirking at the camera, with his hands gesturing to his body as if to say ‘see what i mean?’. If he’d posted this on his Instagram, Dan gets the feeling he’d have saved it to his camera roll anyway, maybe even made it his phone background.

Dan’s done that with a few of his favourite photos of Phil in the past. He won’t even dwell on the time when Phil posted a photo of himself in the bath and Dan, in a semi-sleep-deprived fit of insanity, printed the photo out and stuck it on his wall.

Tyler came over once, weeks later, saw the photo taped above Dan’s bed, and tore the thing down. He’d told Dan, quite rightly, to stop being such a creep and keep his crazed obsessive behaviour to social media like everyone else.

“Who even has physical photos these days?? You’re like a fucking serial killer!”

Dan chuckles at this memory. He’s glad for Tyler, sometimes, even if he’s only good for keeping Dan’s stalkerish behaviour within the realms of normalcy.

Belatedly, he realises it’s been over five minutes and he still hasn’t responded to Phil. Also, his break is close to being over.

From: Dan To: Phil woww. please, phil of the future, tell me what life is like in 2087 x

From: Phil To: Dan stawwp. i keep laughing out loud at what ur saying and now the designer is sending me death glares :’’’D xx

Trying hard to ignore the fact that his dorky jokes are apparently literally making Phil ‘lol’, Dan checks the time, and sighs, typing out another message.

From: Dan To: Phil is the designer a martian? or maybe secretly one of those reptile-people? maybe skin him just to be safe. also my break is over so i gtg. have fun on set of NASA’s moonlanding recreation x

From: Phil To: Dan aww ur at work too? that sux. i forgot that u work at night lol. hope u stay dry this evening ;) xx

From: Dan To: Phil speaking of… why are u at work? isnt it kind of late for a photoshoot? x

From: Phil To: Dan well its 8am here so no haha xx

From: Dan To: Phil where are you? x

From: Phil To: Dan seoul :) hence the… unusual fashion lol xx

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He stands from his chair, throws his half eaten bagel in the trash, and looks around himself. He’s in the staff room - a small, dusty space with a row of falling apart lockers, a couple of chairs and a small table. There’s a hook on the wall which holds a load of unused aprons, and a rusty heater for when it’s especially cold.

He’s about to go back out to serve a load of rowdy customers some overpriced cocktails, then mop a dancefloor sticky with sweat, alcohol, and whatever other liquids might have found their way there. Then, he’s going to go back to his crummy flat way across in Kemptown, unfold his sofabed, and fall asleep to Netflix.

Phil, on the other side of the world in Korea, is having his hair, makeup and wardrobe done by professionals. He’s being treated like a celebrity, no doubt, and pampered excessively. Later, he’ll receive high-definition, professional photographs of himself looking gorgeous, and post them to his Instagram, where millions of people will tell him how stunning he looks.

Dan sighs to himself. How the other half lives.

The following day, Dan wakes up to find that Phil has updated his Instagram story, and posted the photo with the silver goo in his hair. The same one he’d sent to Dan. The caption reads:

Not sure silver hair was a good idea! The designer was going for Kpop, but ended up with Kpoop… can’t wait to show you guys the photos from this shoot! xx

Two things cross Dan’s mind.

First, Dan can now officially state that he had a sneak-peek at an official AmazingPhil photo before it was posted.

Second, the bitch totally stole his joke.

He smiles to himself ruefully, then decides to leave a comment. There’s no way that Phil will even see it - he’s never seen any of Dan’s others, or at least Dan sincerely hopes he hasn’t, as they’re mostly things like ‘choke me’ or ‘slap me round the face with your yaoi hands dad’.

Okay, maybe he tends to leave those sorts of comments when he’s less than sober.

This time, Dan just taps out a simple:

danisnotonfire: joke stealing is a low form of theft phil smh ;)

Still smiling to himself, Dan rolls over onto his side, and settles in to watch Phil’s story. The stories are usually long, silly, and full of adorable clips of Phil being clumsy and cute. As expected, this one is no exception. It’s a tour of Phil’s hotel room in Seoul, which is very posh.

Phil exclaims over the origami hand towels on his bed, the robe provided for him in the wardrobe, and the multiple options on the ‘disco shower’ as he calls it. Just as Dan is marvelling at the panoramic shot Phil has filmed of his view from the balcony, a notification pings at the top of his screen.

amazingphil replied to your comment: joke stealing is…

Dan sits bolt upright in bed, the sheets falling off him. He runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes wide. He clicks the notification before it disappears, heart pounding.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. Dan hadn’t intended for him to actually see. What if Phil thinks he’s being rude? He doesn’t actually mind Phil stealing his stupid joke about the hair goo. It’s an honour, if anything, that Phil finds his dumb joke good enough to post as a caption millions of people will read.

Heart thrumming, Dan finds the response Phil left.

danisnotonfire: joke stealing is a low form of theft phil smh ;)

amazingphil: @danisnotonfire aha i was kinda hoping you wouldn’t see ;D

Another notification pings at the top of his screen.

amazingphil started following you

“Holy shit,” Dan says to nobody.

amazingphil liked your photo

“Fuck,” Dan squeaks, clutching his pillow for support. “Stop it Phil, I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Curious, Dan clicks the last notification, wondering which photo it was that Phil pressed the little heart for. To his surprise, it’s a selfie, one he took at work around a month ago. He took it during a lull between serving, if he remembers correctly. The lighting hadn’t been awful when he was doing his hourly fringe check in his phone camera, so he’d snapped a pic. It’s nothing special, just a moody expression and a wash of pink lighting across one half of his face.

amazingphil commented on your photo

amazingphil: nice pout ;) xx

Dan falls back into the pillows, mind obliterating itself into a thousand, tiny pieces.

Over the next few weeks, Dan has several text conversations with Phil. They’re usually started by Phil himself, who will - out of what Dan assumes is boredom - sometimes send him a random meme, a musing about his surroundings, or a selfie. For obvious reasons, Dan prefers the latter.

No matter how many times Phil reaches out via text, the surreality of it never fails to send Dan’s mind freewheeling. It always knocks the wind out of his lungs, it always makes him stop dead in his tracks, and it always leaves him struggling to recover for the next few hours. Whenever this happens at work, Tyler never fails to tease him mercilessly.

“Whoops! Please excuse him, sir, his mind has been blended by a single text from his crush,” Tyler tells a customer the fifth time Dan drops a glass behind the bar.

Dan scowls at his friend, but doesn’t try to defend himself. It’s true, after all. One text from Phil has him behaving like a moron. He becomes physically inept, unable to make the simplest drink.

One night, after the bar has closed, Dan and Tyler are cleaning up.

“So when’s he gonna stop torturing you over text and come sweep you off your beer-drenched tootsies?”

Dan rolls his eyes at this. “He’s not, Ty. He’s a rich and famous superstar, and I’m clearing up puke for the third day in a row.”

Dan wrinkles his nose as he continues mopping up the patch of vomit. He’s suspicious at this point; three days in a row is unusual. Is the same person coming in each night and spewing their guts all over the dance floor out of spite? Perhaps it’s some sort of hate crime.

“It’s like a Cinderella story!” Ty exclaims, pirouetting around his broom. “Except it’s gay, which makes it even better.”

Dan scoffs at him. “I’m pretty sure fairytales don’t involve stalking someone over social media and having them find out. He’s just taking pity on me because he saw that first night that I’m a fan.” Dan dunks the mop back in the bucket, turning to Tyler. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he has a boyfriend.”

Tyler sucks in a scandalised breath. “What! Who?”

Dragging the mop back to the supply closet, Dan laughs. “Remember the drunk guy he came with? The one who gave me a lovely Rainforest shower?”

“Him?”

Dan sighs, locks the cupboard, and nods. He digs into his pocket for his phone, and brings it over to show Tyler the photo of Phil and Charlie kissing. Matt, the security guard wanders over to see as well, letting out a low whistle.

“He’s a nonce if he thinks that guy’s behaviour was attractive,” Matt says. “He puked ‘soon as I got him out the door that night. All over the pavement.”

Dan looks at Matt, tilting his head in interest. “He did?”

Tyler plucks the phone out of Dan’s hand, zooming into the photo to have a better look, a frown on his face.

“Yep, your friend there came out, called him an Uber and sent him off,” Matt says. “Doubt pukey there would’ve made it home without him.”

“Nice guy,” Dan mutters, cheeks warm.

“This is staged,” Tyler announces abruptly.

“What?”

“Look,” he says, bringing the phone back over for Dan to see.

He zooms in on the crux of the kiss, right onto Phil’s face. Dan grimaces.

“Ty, I don’t want to see-”

“Shut up and look at his face,” Tyler interrupts, grabbing Dan’s chin and angling it towards the phone. “See how his lips are puckered? All stiff and pointed, like he’s kissing his grandma. And his eyes are open.”

“He’s looking at the camera!”

“Nah, Tyler’s right mate,” Matt says. The gum he’s chewing is making gross squishy sounds right in Dan’s ear as he leans over to look. “He looks awkward as hell.”

Dan narrows his eyes at the photo, trying to see what the others see.

“Besides, didn’t you say he hated that guy?” Tyler asks, clicking off the photo.

Dan tuts, snatching his phone back. “Well, apparently he was just being nice to compensate for the fact his kissing buddy covered me in sugary cocktail.”

He makes the smart decision to step away from this preposterous conversation before he does something stupid. Like allow either of these morons to give him hope that Phil is actually single.

Not that Phil being single would even matter.

“Or he was making it clear that he’s available!” Tyler calls after him as Dan stalks over to the staff room. “He whipped his shirt off for you twice and gave you his number. Do you think he’d do that if he had a boyfriend?”

“Drop it, Ty!” Dan calls back, shutting the staff room door behind him.

He will not let himself fall into the trap of daring to believe he could get someone as gorgeous, as hilarious, as pure and… amazing, as Phil Lester.

He won’t.

This is a good philosophy, in theory.

In practise, it turns out to be a lot more difficult. Dan finds this out to his cost when Phil strolls into Habenero the following Friday with Charlie Hickory at his side. Dan’s stomach sinks as soon as he sees the pair, the butterflies that appear each time Phil so much as acknowledges exploding into dust the moment he registers who Phil is here with.

Phil makes a beeline for the bar, a big smile on his face as he sees Dan. Warily, Dan smiles back, very aware that he is not exactly Charlie’s biggest fan.

“Dan!” Phil sings, chipper as ever.

Blushing already, Dan waves an awkward hand. He will never, he’s sure, get used to hearing his name on Phil Lester’s lips. “Hi. You’re back.”

“Of course! This is my local hangout now,” Phil says, winking. “Great cocktails, cute bar staff, crazy Bingo nights… this place has got it all.”

“Some people might not agree with you about the cocktails,” Dan can’t help himself saying, glancing at Charlie.

Charlie shuffles awkwardly on the spot. “Right,” he says, casting a look at Phil. They share a look that seems loaded with something Dan is not privy to, and then Charlie sighs, turning to Dan. “I wanted to, uh, apologise. About last time. Totally not cool of me to… tell you off like that. I was wasted.”

For an awkward moment, Dan waits for the actual word ‘sorry’ to leave Charlie’s mouth. It becomes obvious fairly swiftly that the dude feels he’s already said enough, so Dan just gives him a tight smile, and clears his throat.

“Oh, yeah man,” he says. “Let’s just… move on, I guess.”

If Charlie won’t say sorry, then Dan’s sure as hell not going to say he forgives him.

“So, drinks?” Phil asks, seeming to sense the taut atmosphere. “Maybe not cocktails?”

Dan can’t help the splutter of laughter, but Charlie shoots a dagger-like glare Phil’s way. It makes Dan’s lip curl; how could anyone be angry with Phil, of all people?

“Maybe some beers?” Dan suggests, teeth clenched. “We have a load of craft beers, or if you’re more into spirits I could make you guys a-”

“I’ll have a vodka and light tonic, no ice,” Charlie interrupts. “A double. If you use regular tonic, I will know.”

“Charlie,” Phil hisses under his breath.

They exchange another loaded look, and again Charlie sighs, turning to Dan with a fake smile. “Please.”

Swallowing the urge to roll his eyes, Dan nods, then gladly turns his attention to Phil. “And for you?”

“Oh,” Phil says, like it’s only just occurred to him that he needs to order as well. “God, I’m so bad at deciding, err…”

As he’s dithering, Charlie sighs. “Are you cool to get these, Phil? I’m gonna go find us a table.”

“You don’t wanna dance?”

“Not in the mood.”

Phil nods, obviously disappointed. “Okay, yeah, I’ll meet you in the back.”

With that, Charlie is gone, slipping into the crowd. The look of distaste must be more evident on Dan’s face than he thinks, because Phil laughs at it.

“I know,” Phil says. “But he does have a few… marginally amiable qualities.”

‘Why have you chosen to be with someone that’s marginally amiable when you’re so great,’ is what Dan wants to ask. Instead, he simply shrugs, deciding to change the subject.

“Have you decided on a drink yet? I’d better get on with making his low-cal dishwater.”

Phil laughs a little, then leans forwards, his smile deepening as he leans across the bar. “Surprise me.”

Something sparks a roman candle in Dan’s stomach, and his skin prickles with the heat it creates. He drags his eyes free of Phil’s with some difficulty, nodding, and turns to make the drinks.

He prepares Phil a ‘PopQueen’ cocktail, which is one of their most popular. It’s inspired by popcorn, along with the trio of Pop Queens that rule the gay music scene: Gaga, RiRi, and Bey. The moscato vodka base is made from Italian grapes to represent Gaga’s heritage, the spiced rum is a shoutout to Bey’s favourite drink, and Riri comes in in the form of a smoky splash of passion fruit bitter. The rest is topped up with popcorn syrup, lemonade, a sprinkle of caramel popcorn kernels, and as many sparkly cocktail sticks as Dan can fit in.

He explains the whole concoction to Phil as he presents it, a little smug because he knows this is an impressive looking cocktail. It’s probably his favourite one to make; the Viniq shimmery moscato vodka makes the drink swirl and shimmer - always exceptionally pretty.

Sure enough, Phil’s mouth drops open at the sight of it. “Okay wow,” Phil says, chuckling. “I’m gonna get drunk tonight, aren’t I?”

“If that’s your plan, this should definitely help you on your way,” Dan says, laughing too. “I wouldn’t recommend having a second if you want to remember your evening.”

Phil leans forwards to take a sip of the PopQueen, moaning around the straw, much to Dan’s dismay. He plucks one of the popcorn pieces off and eats it, eyes closed. In related news, Dan struggles not to fall to the floor. “Dan, you are an artiste,” Phil says. “Popcorn is my all time favourite food.”

“Oh, wow, that’s... lucky, I guess,” Dan stammers, a swell of pride surging up into his chest. “Glad you like it.”

“So, how much?”

“Oh, on the house.” Dan smiles, sliding the cocktail across the bar along with Charlie’s vodka tonic. “I feel bad for not letting you in on the forfeit for Bingo last time.”

The look on Phil’s face softens into something so sweet Dan can taste sugar on his tongue.

“You don’t have to do that,” Phil says softly.

“It’s fine, really,” Dan assures him, all but sliding his elbows across the bar towards him. “I insist.”

A twitch in the corner of Phil’s mouth, and then he’s leaning across the bar. It happens slowly, but Dan still manages to be caught off guard. One moment, he’s watching, bemused, as Phil inches towards him, and the next there’s a light press of paper-soft lips to his cheek. A scratch of stubble grazes over Dan’s skin as Phil leans away.

“Thanks,” Phil tells him, smiling. “You’re sweet, Dan.”

And then he’s turning away, drinks in hand, slipping into the mass of people.

For the next few hours, Dan hopes for Phil to return to the bar for another round. He waits, eagerly, for this moment to come. Instead, Charlie is the one who brings his and Phil’s glasses back over, and waves to flag down Dan’s attention.

He nods in acknowledgement, finishing up the drinks order he’s in the middle of, and sidling over to Charlie. He forces a strained smile.

“Same again?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says, digging out his phone. “And a couple of vodka shots.”

He says nothing else, eyes glued to his phone screen. Dan waits for a moment before moving off, eyes stuck to Charlie’s face. He’s the kind of gorgeous that shouldn’t exist in real life. Unblemished, tanned skin. Clean, dark stubble, lacing his perfect, razorblade jawline. His hair is a swoop of glossy mahogany; even the cut of it looks expensive.

Charlie’s eyes flick up to Dan’s, obviously questioning why he’s staring, so Dan nods, embarrassed, and hurries to make the drinks. From a superficial standpoint, it’s obvious why Phil is with Charlie. Obviously, in Dan’s eyes, Phil is the most attractive man on the planet, but that’s just because he’s Dan’s type. Even he can tell that Charlie is objectively a beautiful human being.

It’s just a shame about everything below the surface level.

Dan pours the two shots Charlie ordered. “All together it’s twenty pounds, please.”

Charlie snorts, then pockets his phone at last. “Figures you’d give Phil the discount.”

He pulls out a twenty and slaps it on the counter.

“Sorry, I can’t give you guys free drinks all night.”

Charlie just stares back at him, a faint, knowing smile caught on his dusty pink lips. One of this thick eyebrows is slightly quirked, sliding an irritation under Dan’s skin. “Listen, Danny, is it?”

“Dan,” he grits.

“Dan,” Charlie says, leaning across the bar. “A little advice, yeah? Don’t be so transparent. It just comes across as pathetic.”

He downs both the shots in quick succession, baffling Dan, who is frozen, mortified, to the spot. Before his brain can thaw enough to stammer out some witty rebuttal, Charlie has swept the drinks off the counter, and is moving away.

Cheeks burning, Dan turns around, trying to calm his boiling blood. He squeezes his fists together, counting to ten, the way he makes himself after all encounters with dickhead customers.

“Hey, sweetcheeks, can we get some drinks over here, please?”

With a deep sigh, Dan unclenches his fists, and turns to the next customer.

At around one in the morning, Dan runs to the bathroom for a minute, and on his way, he sees Charlie. He’s against the wall of the club, near the DJ booth. There’s a muscular, dark-skinned man pressing him there; their faces are close. Dan can’t stop, he’s left Tyler and Dodie to the mercy of the drunks in their worst state - things get rowdy an hour before closing - and he needs to get back there. So, instead, he simply tucks the image away in his mind, to think about later on.

That man, leant against Charlie in a less-than-innocent seeming stance, was certainly not Phil, after all. As he exits the bathroom, he notices that Charlie is gone, as is whoever was with him.

At 1:55am, the lights come on. As usual, an enormous groan chants out of the crowd of patrons on the dance floor, followed by a few pairs awkwardly stepping out of the shadows, some squinting and eye-covering, and the slow, jelly-legged walk to the coat-check area.

“I think I just saw some guy getting up off his knees in the corner,” Tyler says despondently. “Shotgun not mopping the floor tonight.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dan sighs. “On the dance floor? Really? Why can’t they suck each other off in the bathroom like normal people?”

“Oh, there were definitely people doing that in one of the stalls about an hour ago,” someone says to Dan’s right. The voice, for some reason, sends the hairs up on the back of Dan’s neck.

He turns, wondering when Matt’s voice got so low, only to find that Phil has perched himself on one of the bar stools, the dregs of his cocktail still in a glass in front of him. For a moment, Dan is too stunned at the sight of him to reply. Then, he registers that the lights are on, and cringes, knowing he likely looks frightful. Phil, of course, looks radiant as ever even under the harsh fluorescents, apart from a faint tiredness, visible in the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“You’re still here,” Dan comments. “I thought you guys had gone.”

“Charlie left,” Phil says, looking away from Dan. “Or I assume he did.”

Out of sight, Tyler catches Dan’s eye, making an obscene gesture with his hands before snickering and running off in the direction of the supply closet. Dan just glares after him, pink-cheeked, and turns back to Phil.

“Wait, he left without telling you?”

One of Phil’s shoulders moves towards his neck, then falls. “He does that.”

“Wow that’s… kind of shitty.”

As soon as the words are out, Dan regrets them. He can’t help but think of Charlie’s comment from earlier; it rings in his ears as if the guy had screamed it at him.

Don’t be so transparent. It just comes across as pathetic.

He was right, probably, though Dan had hated hearing it. He should stop being such a suck-up. It must be awkward and cringey for Phil to see Dan so obviously smitten.

Still, Phil throws him a faint smile. “It’s cool. He’s just a flaky guy. A bit of a princess. He grew up rich, so he’s always been a bit superficial. I’m trying to wring the bourgeoisie out of his blue blood.”

Dan snorts with laughter. “In my experience, you can’t filter the dickishness out of people very easily.”

There’s a silence, then. Phil regards him with a faintly curious expression.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Dan says once the silence gets too uncomfortable. He shrugs, grabbing the rag from his back pocket and starting to wipe down the bar. “I don’t know the guy, really. I’ve just had a couple of unfortunate experiences with him.”

“Oh no,” Phil says, face falling. “What did he do this time?”

Dan laughs, bitterly. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just a little mouthy, is all.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“So, when do you get to leave this place?” Phil asks, playing with his glass. He still hasn’t drunk the remainder of his cocktail. “Or do you sleep here?”

“On weekdays, the bar closes at two, so I get out of here at around two-thirty.”

“Christ,” Phil mutters. “And I thought my job was long hours.”

A laugh bursts out of Dan’s throat, but he covers it as best he can with a cough, turning away. Busying himself with ‘dusting’ some liquor bottles, Dan tries to compose a straight face. Is Phil honestly going to try and argue that his job is difficult? When was the last time that guy ever grabbed a broom, or handled someone’s sticky change?

In a minute, Dan is going to go into the corner of the dance floor, get down on his knees, and clean up some randomer’s come. A few weeks ago he saw Phil swanning about a five-star hotel in Korea. If AmazingPhil’s worst complaint is that he had to have a few questionable outfit choices put on him, and some silvery goo in his hair, then he needs a reality check.

Nevertheless, Dan knows that he can’t say any of this. Not only would he never dream of insulting Phil Lester, but it’s pointless to try and explain the differences between classes to someone in a privileged position. They’ve usually forgotten how to understand.

“Are you close by, at least?” Phil asks, interrupting Dan’s thoughts.

Dan turns back to him. “Kemptown. It’s half an hour’s walk, more or less.”

“You walk?” Phil asks, eyebrows skyrocketing towards his quiff. “At two in the morning?”

“Five in the morning on weekends,” Dan confirms, hiding a smile at Phil’s surprise. “It’s okay, you get used to it. Besides, it’s mostly just drunk idiots chugging cans of cider and threatening to run into the sea. Not too scary.”

Despite Dan’s reassurance, the look of pity and concern on Phil’s face doesn’t subside. After a while, Dan turns from it, feeling awkward. He busies himself with clearing away the last of the empty glasses, yawning into the crook of his elbow. Tonight was rough.

“You should crash at mine,” Phil blurts.

Sure he must have misheard, Dan faces Phil slowly. “Um, what?”

“If you’re exhausted, I mean.” Phil fidgets, fingers tapping against his glass. “Like, on the nights you can’t face walking all the way home, you can totally just sleep on my sofa.”

Speechless, Dan simply stares.

“The couch is pretty comfy,” Phil continues in a ramble, not meeting Dan’s eye. “And my flat is just up the road, literally like a minute away. I’m not saying, y’know, come over every night, ‘cause obviously… that might be an issue, but you can absolutely stay round on, say, Saturday nights when you finish later. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

He’s just being nice. That’s Dan’s only explanation. Phil Lester is a sweetheart of a person, and he got so worried about the hypothetical danger involved in Dan’s walks home, that he offered something big, even though he didn’t really mean it.

Dan is a stranger to him. He needs to decline the polite offer, and let Phil off the hook he accidentally created to string himself up on.

So, Dan forces out a small chuckle, and says: “Oh, no, it’s really fine. Thanks for the offer, that’s really good of you, but I quite like the walk. It’s a nice come down after a busy night.”

Phil nods, chewing his lip. He looks unconvinced. “I’m not just saying it, though.” His voice has dropped to a lower tone. “Like tonight… you’re so tired, I can see it. Just grab some sleep at mine before you head back across town.”

As soon as Phil mentions it, the quilt of his own exhaustion flops around his shoulders, dragging Dan’s bones towards the floor. He tries to picture the stumble back to his crummy flat in Kemptown, loathing each imaginary step.

“You barely know me,” Dan says - one last attempt at refusal.

Sensing he’s won, Phil smiles very slightly, then downs the rest of his cocktail at last. “I don’t know if it’s just me, Dan, but I have this feeling that we’re going to be good friends.”

(Part 4!)

#phan #phanfic #bartender au #phanfiction

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