#with another group like fucking christ man. out of ALL of my difficult classes. of course i get a B in literally the easiest one

[goosemixtapes]

max’s top books of 2021 :3c

top ten bookposting... TWO!!! (you can find last year’s here!) once again, this is ranked completely on the basis of my opinions (which are abstract combinations of “how technically good is this book?” and “how much did i enjoy it?”)

i read... a lot this year. half again as much as last year, because i started uni in august and guess who is taking literature classes! that said, this list was still incredibly difficult to make because Reading More Books does not necessarily equate to Enjoying More Books. under the cut because i have a lot to say.

first off: the runner-ups: American Moor by Keith Hamilton Cobb (a one-man play about being a black man through the lens of Othello; jesus christ the power in this writing; i should reread this); Teenage Dick by Mike Lew (not sure how i felt about the ending but oh my fucking god this is everything.); Milk Fed by Melissa Broder (incredibly striking character voice; started amazing and sagged in the middle imo); History of Wolves by Emily Fridlund (books that feel like getting hit over the head with a baseball bat); and Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel (i know i’m late to this one but. crying cat image)

and my top three anticipated 2022 releases: I Am Margaret Moore by Hannah Capin (what can i say. 2020 left me a hannah capin groupie); Ellen Outside the Lines by A.J. Sass (GAY PEOPLE AND NONBINARY PEOPLE AND NEURODIVERGENT PEOPLE?); and Hell Followed With Us by A.J. White (THIS BOOK... LAST NIGHT I DREAMED I HELD YOU IN MY ARMS.)

without further ado! the list, with my love increasing as the numbers drop:

10. O Human Star by Blue Delliquanti

if you like gaytrans people and robots, you need to read this. if you like gaytrans people but are relatively neutral about robots, you need to read this. if you hate robots. i guess you shouldn’t read this. but it’s FREE ONLINE, so what’s really stopping you from giving it a shot? the entire time i was reading this, my thoughts were split between “ooooooohhhhhmmmmygod this is such a trans story, this is such a trans story, this understands being a closeted trans person and the agonizingly slow process of realizing it better than pretty much anything i’ve ever read” and “PAIN PAIN SUFFERING AGONY PAIN.” and also “GAY PEOPLE KISS ON THE MOUTH A FAMILY CAN BE TWO INVENTORS AND THEIR ROBOT CLONE DAUGHTER.” nearly made me cry in my in-person latin class because i was reading instead of doing my work. 10/10

9. The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo

this was one of my most anticipated reads of 2021, and i was right. i was right. it’s a gatsby retelling (already great) starring a bisexual vietnamese jordan baker (even better) WITH MAGIC (!!!) and some of the most breathtakingly beautiful prose i’ve read all year. i read this with a group of friends, and we collectively agreed that the soft magic system was sometimes a little vague (particularly in terms of how magic’s existence affects the rest of society), but that was the only criticism i had because jesus christ this was amazing. falls under the category of retellings make me think “FUCK, the og text is so good” while also being incredibly gripping and gorgeous in their own rights (this is the best category of retellings).

8. The Iliad by Homer

OOOOOOOOO let’s get into the NERD ZONE PART OF THIS POST. i read the iliad twice this year, because i am insane. first so i could read TSOA after it (a book that... i did not love. but that is another matter), then again because i had to for class. you guys, i think homer can write. do not talk to me about hector unless you want to check out how hard i can cry (and on that note, shoutout to An Iliad by Lisa Peterson and Dennis O’Hare because. bark bark bark rufrufrufruf grrrrr bark bark etc) (and also, shoutout to the chilliad.)

7. The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan

i will say flat out that this book is not for everyone. the synopsis is super vague, and the book itself is written in a winding and abstract style that some might find frustrating. but i happen to be the exact target audience of this book about a fictional schizophrenic lesbian writing her fictional memoir about a series of events that might have been Actually Magic or might have been a delusion. this book is SO fucking meta in an absolutely delightful way. there are SO many literary and artistic references. the aforementioned style is deliberately a representation of how imp (the main character)’s mental illness shapes her writing, and as a mentally ill person whose brain ALSO shapes my writing, i loved that, and i love how it tied into the themes, and i love this book a lot, and i wrote a much longer review so i will leave it at that.

6. A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin

. okay. look. look at me. look. it would be SO easy, culturally, homosexually, to hate game of thrones. but this book fucks INCREDIBLY severely. there is a REASON a song of ice and fire has become the template for this kind of fantasy, and that’s because NOBODY IS DOING IT LIKE GEORGE R R MARTIN. putting a dragon and some gritty straight sex in your fantasy novel is not going to make you the next game of thrones!!! there is WORLDBUILDING here!!! there is LORE!!! there is a vast interwoven tapestry of characters who all feel devastatingly human even when they’re terrible!!! there are ICE ZOMBIES? i don’t even care about ice zombies but nobody fucking told me that! i hate george rr martin because i want his job so bad (getting away with writing 800 page fantasy books except mine will be about gay people) but even despite that i can admit that this book deserves the hype. (have been reading the second one at the speed of 1 page per eon while at college. turns out a book of this scale is not the best to read in scattered intervals at college. oh well)

5. The Wicked and the Divine by Kieron Gillen & Jamie McKelvie

i actually don’t read a lot of comics/graphic novels (maybe i should read more? i don’t know; i like prose) and so i had to be coaxed into wicdiv by the esteemed mx. @yvesdot. and thank god for it because oh my god. OH my god. this series takes a rad idea (“hey, pop stars are treated like gods. what if they Were”) and completely fucking slams the gas pedal to 100. the plot twists in this series broke my fucking NECK (two of my reviews read “THIS ISSUE WAS LIKE GETTING HITCHED TO A MEAT HOOK AND HAVING MY BODY SWUNG AROUND AT HIGH VELOCITY WITH A BUNCH OF FLESHY THUNKS AGAINST THE WALL.” and “my head is a mailbox and wicdiv is the group of rowdy teenage kids in cars in the 80s coming to hit me with a baseball bat”). the art is BREATHTAKING; this is a series for people who like women. every character is SO compelling and so horrible and so imperfect and once i started reading it was near impossible to stop. the last volume made me lie in the fetal position on my dorm floor. i made a PLAYLIST for this series. i, a man who only makes playlists for shakespeare shit. the playlist is called “fuck off i am not crying” ADN GUESS WHAT . I WAS

4. The Last True Poets of the Sea by Julia Drake

there are the books that you read in a day or two and enjoy, and then there are the books that you ignore your zoom class to finish while holding in your tears on camera. there are the shakespeare retellings that slap, and then there are the shakespeare retellings written specifically to appeal to mentally ill theater-oriented WLW hyperfixating on twelfth night whose younger brothers are also mentally ill. realllllllly hard to describe the amount of emotions i have for this book. realllllllly hard to not lie facedown on the carpet thinking about it. (no, you don’t have to read twelfth night to read this; yes, you should read it. immaculately written. wonderful book. plus look at that fucking COVER. gay rights)

3. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

and once again. we return. to the nerd zone. maybe i have stockholm syndrome. maybe that’s why i’m sitting here about to type “war and peace was maybe the most fun reading experience i had this year.” because if you’re gonna read a 1200 page book, you have to start enjoying it at SOME point, right? just as a defense mechanism? but oh my god war and peace is so legitimately good. i hate tolstoy’s pedantic misogynist pancake ass but that man can write characters in a way that makes me want to levitate off of my chair into the air and/or scream into a pillow. on a serious level: part of my enjoyment is because it’s actually really good; part of it is because i have a whole group of friends who also enjoy war and peace, and so i got to discuss it and listen to their playlists and look at their art. and part of it is definitely because the spring of my senior year of high school, bored out of my mind in my last set of required classes, terrified of the looming shadow of College TM, was probably the best time in my life so far to pick up a doorstop about confused and depressed young adults trying to find their places in the world despite the feeling that they’re wasting their lives and their talents and missing “the answers” of life. also every bitch in this book is gay. listen to great comet

2. The Aeneid by Virgil

we saw this coming, right. like we knew this was coming. the first time i read this poem (notably, when i hadn’t read homer yet and couldn’t pick out all the allusions to the iliad/odyssey) was at the start of 2021, because my ten-person latin 5 class translated it. and i found it kind of boring, but the class was insane (positively. for the most part), and i thought, well, whatever, it’s a decent story even if i don’t like the style of epic poems. and then that Decent Story sunk into every nook and crevice of my brain in the following months and haunted me like the shade of [idk, name someone who dies in the aeneid, there’s a handful] until i finally got to read it again in one of my uni classes and had to physically stop myself from overtaking the entire class with my answers to the professor’s questions and then proceeded to follow the professor after class to talk with (at?) him about it and then made him read two different essays about it. i think when it comes to “thinking about aeneas” i am in the top 100 people on the planet. virgil put his pussy into every single line of this poem and it’s one of my personality traits now

1. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

speaking of max’s personality traits. okay, here’s the part where i confess that i did not actually read the entire complete works this year. i WANTED to, and intended to, but i didn’t start in earnest until june (i thought i was going to do a book club with a friend! and then we did not.) and as a result of that + uni, i really doubt i’m going to finish the last four or five plays in the next five days. (maybe i could. but i would like to do other things at some point this week.) that said, i DID read twenty-five new shakespeare plays (and hamlet and as you like it again) and most of the sonnets. in general my opinions and meta posting are on my shakespeare blog; specific shout-outs go to my new favorites, ranked just under hamlet and lear: henry iv part 1 (HOTSPUR MY FUCKING BELOVEDDDD. HAL ONE OF THE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME), julius caesar (this is my version of a page-turner vacation read. both times i’ve read this i did it in 48 hours and i’m insane about brutus and cassius.), and twelfth night (far and away my favorite comedy, and probably my favorite read of the year).

if you’ve read this far, you have to add me on goodreads and we will be legally wed. everyone tell me your favorite reads of the year i want to know

[delos-mio]

Out of the Woods - College!AU - PART 2

A/N: Part 2! I hope you enjoy this chapter. No major warnings apply! Thoughts, feelings, predictions always welcome <3

***

After dropping you off that evening, Nikolai found his mind to be running a mile a minute. It was 1am, relatively early by college standards, but he had no desire to go back to the party and no desire to go home. Instead, he walked around campus until his feet throbbed. He thought about your smile and your laugh, the way you bit your lip and the way you toyed with the ends of your hair. He thought about how you could very well be in the arms of another man right now.

He could have lived without that mental image.

It seemed wild to him that you could make so many feelings flood back to him in such a short amount of time. It hit him like a ton of bricks the moment you locked eyes, and it was instantly like the last 5 years of silence never even happened. God, he wished they never happened. How could he have been so cruel? Who just up and left the person they were very clearly falling in love without a trace? Nikolai, that’s who. And under the penetrating glow of the moon, for the next six or so hours, Nikolai hated himself for it.

Nikolai quietly tried to sneak back into the apartment he shared with Aleks around 7am. Generally, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, so he figured it’d be no problem. As the front door clicked shut behind him, another door clicked open inside the apartment. Alina, clad in only one of Aleks’s shirts, exited his room and immediately jumped upon seeing Nikolai. He quickly averted his eyes and turned his attention to the ceiling, trying to look anywhere but at the half-naked girl before him.

“So, I take it he wasn’t too upset I left the party early?” he asked before she blushed and quickly padded down the hall to the bathroom.

Nikolai pushed his hair back from his face and shook his head. Of course Aleks had company. He made his way to his room and let the back of his knees hit the mattress, flopping onto his back. His eyes fluttered shut as he mulled over the events of the evening. He knew he needed to turn his brain off and actually try to get some sleep, but that was still proving to be rather difficult. As he was getting lost in his own thoughts, he was interrupted by his door being flung open and Aleks leaning in his door frame.

“Do you mind? I’m really tired,” Nikolai grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“You dog! You got home later than me,” he said with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not like that. You’ll notice I didn’t bring anyone home with me, now did I?” Nikolai was starting to get irritated by his roommate’s presence and hoped he’d leave him in peace and quiet sooner rather than later.

“Maybe not. But you could have. Seemed like you and Genya’s new roommate had something going on,” he pried.

“Can you fuck off? Respectfully?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep. But you’re gonna tell me about her when you wake up.” With that, Nikolai heard his door shut again, leaving him in the stillness of his room. He fell asleep half hanging off the bed where he landed with the girl who got away on his mind.

----

When you woke up the next morning, Nikolai was still fresh on your mind. The way he smiled, the way he smelled…everything about him haunted your dreams. It didn’t even take a full minute before the guilt settled in. Jesus Christ, what were you thinking? Did Matt cease to exist because your first love cropped up out of nowhere? You just started flirting with Nikolai again like it was as easy as breathing. But you couldn’t help yourself—Nikolai had worked his way into your head instantly just like he had when you were 17. Like the first time you saw him take off his helmet, shake out his perfect, golden hair, and skate to the bench. It had been a wrap since that moment. You groaned into your pillow, feeling a little nauseous and a lot guilty. After freshening up and pulling a sweatshirt on, you wandered out into the living room of your apartment with Genya where she was eagerly chatting with Zoya over a cup of coffee.

“Fancy seeing you here, ditcher,” Genya teased as you grabbed a mug for yourself.

“I didn’t ditch,” you said. “Nik told you guys we were leaving.”

“Where’d you end up anyways?” Genya asked with a tiny smirk. This line of questioning amused Zoya and she gladly joined in on the antagonizing.

“I can only assume, knowing him, that you ended up somewhere more...private,” Zoya interjected.

“It wasn’t like that. I um, we ended up just going to get some food. Catch up or whatever,” you said while you shot daggers at Genya. You paused to take a sip of the too-hot drink before continuing. “Where have you been hiding Nikolai anyways?”

“He ain’t hiding- have you met the dude? I met him during Freshman orientation. Zoya and I lived in the dorm room next to him and Aleks,” she said as a matter of fact. “We’ve been hanging out ever since. Real good guy.”

“I know,” you sighed, pushing around a pen that was left on the coffee table.

“You like him! Oh man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about him being totally your type. You and your pretty boys. Mhmm, I bet he liked you too,” Genya teased and smiled again.

“No, he’s just an old friend,” you lied. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me,” Zoya mumbled, but you caught it. The comment did nothing to ease the growing knot in your stomach.

“Seriously. He’s my friend. I kinda got carried away with the flirting last night, but I was so excited to see him, you know?” You looked at them both, silently pleading with them to let it drop. “We’re just friends. Nothing else.”

“That may be true now, but the dude has it bad for you. I saw the way he looked at you, dude,” Genya said softly, finally sympathetic to your anguish. “Can I ask how you know each other? Besides ‘high school or something’?”

“We didn’t even go to school together.” You leaned back into the cushions, letting your focus drift away from the girls across from you. “My parents own an ice rink in my hometown and I’d work the concession stand when I got out of school- do my homework and pour hot chocolate or whatever. Nik played hockey with his high school team there.” You smiled to yourself. “I saw him come off the ice one day and thought he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. And one night, he walked right up to me after practice and started talking to me like we’d known each other forever. I didn’t have a ton of friends in school and hadn’t really been noticed by boys like...ever. So to have this super hot dude flirting with me was wild.”

“Oh my god, was Nik your first crush?” Genya squealed.

“I’d had a couple guys that caught my eye before him, but he was the first guy I really liked. First guy I kissed. First guy I…” you trailed off, letting the pause speak for itself.

“No wonder he was so happy to see you,” Zoya said.

“He kinda ghosted me when he left for college and I hadn’t talked to him since the last night we were together. I was too scared to try and find him on Facebook or anything. I didn’t want to see him with other girls hanging all over him and hurt my own feelings, you know?” Genya and Zoya exchanged a sympathetic look. “Anyways, that’s about it. Pretty boring stuff.”

“Babe…”

“I gotta start getting ready for work,” you said, abruptly standing and putting your mug in the sink. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, you shuffled out of the room, hoping neither of them caught the hitch in your voice. So, maybe you weren’t as over that ghosting as you thought you were.

----

The weekend passed with a lot of idle time thinking about when you could possibly see Nikolai again. You were really regretting not scrawling your number somewhere for him. It was torture not knowing how to find him again outside of groveling to Genya, or hoping dumb luck would make you run into him.

You made it to Monday morning and somehow managed to make it to your 8:30 am class on time; a rare feat for you. Thankfully, the class was all engaged in a lively discussion of what constituted a modern classic novel, so it was easy to stay alert and engaged. Before you knew it, your professor was dismissing you and reminding you all about the paper that was due on Thursday. You shuffled down the stairs of the academic building and paused once you got to the quad. Normally, you’d head home for a few hours before your afternoon class, but you had a little time to spare today before your study group. But you also had Nikolai’s face burned in your mind. Would it be totally weird to try to find him?

The building that housed Science and History was only a quarter mile from your classroom, so you made quick work of the walk and tried to hype yourself up, telling yourself that it was normal to want to see him this bad- you’d missed out on a few years there! Of course you wanted to see your friend. When you got inside, you realized you had no idea where you were going. You had yet to take any sort of History class while at school and had absolutely no idea if he was even in class at this time. God, this was seeming like a dumber and dumber idea the more you walked around. After wandering aimlessly for a minute, you saw a familiar head of effortlessly messy golden hair slink out of a classroom.

Immediately, your eye was drawn to him. You were thankful he didn’t notice your presence because you were definitely staring. All weekend, you were sure you had a picture-perfect vision of him in your head, but you were abruptly reminded that he was much more handsome than you could dream up. He had traded in his button down shirt from the other night for a cozy looking grey sweater. You allowed yourself one more moment to admire him from afar before you approached. But Nikolai had turned to face you straight on, face lighting up the moment he saw you.

“I was wondering when you’d come around.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“So, you don’t think I’m crazy for wandering around a building I’ve literally never set foot in, hoping by cosmic timing you’d be here?” you smirked.

“I promise you, I don’t think you’re crazy. I mean, I was considering doing something quite similar myself,” You couldn’t stop the heat that started to rise in your cheeks.

“So, where are you headed now?” you asked, rocking on your heels.

“Well,” he pondered, “I was going to meet Aleks at The Moose if you’re walking that way.”

“I’m not, but I have a couple minutes before I have to be at my study group if you want to sit outside,” you offered.

“Of course, darling,” he grinned, hazel eyes playful as you found a bench next to the bike rack. “How was your weekend?”

“Not bad,” you shrugged. “I had to work both days, but it was pretty slow, so no complaints. I only got grilled by Genya and Zoya a little. It could have been a lot worse,” you smiled.

“They do love any information they can get their little hands on,” Nikolai said, leaning back into the bench. “You...didn’t see Matt at all?” he probed, trying with all his might to look and sound nonchalant, but failing.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can I not take an interest in you?” he asked with gentle eyes, but you just glowered.

“No. I didn’t see Matt this weekend. We haven’t even talked since Friday, honestly,” you said. Nikolai didn’t interject at all, just looked at you to go on, if you felt like sharing. “We haven’t really been getting along lately. He’s a nice guy and all, but I don’t know how much we have in common. And he never seems to have time for me unless it’s on his terms. Like, he expects me to be available whenever it works for him, but he’s always conveniently busy if I ask him to do anything with me.” You kicked at a rock near your toe, eyes fixed on the ground, totally unsure why you just told Nikolai all that.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “I’m saying this as your friend,” he started, making you look in his eyes again. “You deserve someone who understands what a gift it is to spend time with you.” It was so simple, but it made tears instantly spring in your eyes. “Hey. Hey, now. None of that,” he smiled, thumbing a tear away. “Would you maybe want to come over Friday? Get pizza and watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds really nice, Nik,” you nodded. It was then he broke into a blinding smile and you were unable to stop the swirling in your belly.

“Could I—would I be able to get your number? So I can send you my address or whatever,” he added quickly; you were really starting to love seeing him get flustered.

“I think that’s a good idea, yeah.” You reached for some scrap paper and pencil from your bag and scribbled down your number, placing it in the palm of his large hands before standing up. His fingers just barely brushed yours as he took the paper before stowing it away in the front pocket of his jeans. “You can always use that number before Friday too, if you want,” you said with a sly smile and patted Nikolai’s cheek gently. His laugh carried a bit as you walked opposite directions out of the quad, your feet feeling like they were being carried by tiny, pink fluffy clouds.

Fuck. Did you just set up a date with Nikolai? No. No, not a date. Just two friends eating pizza and watching movies. Friends did that all the time.

But as you walked to the cafe where your study group met, there was a crashing wave of guilt that washed over you. What the fuck were thinking? All you were doing was playing with fire, practically begging fate to burn you. You were mentally beating yourself up, feeling like a total shit bag as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, seeing your group already gathered and breaking off into pairs, Matt beaming at you when you came into view.

“Hi, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” you smiled back with tight lips, hardly able to look at him.

You started going through notes for an upcoming Logic and Reasoning exam, but you found yourself unable to process anything you were reading. Your mind was elsewhere and you only managed half-hearted affirmations and hardly contributed any correct answers. Here Matt was, sweet and excited to see you. He was good, he was nice. Maybe you just needed to make more of an effort with him. Should he really want to do the things you wanted to do, or were you being selfish? You weren’t sure.

“Something wrong?” he asked suddenly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Just don’t feel good, that’s all,” you shrugged, looking back at your notebook and computer. He accepted that answer and didn’t probe any further.

“So, you should come over Friday. I don’t have anyone else to hang out with and thought we could hang out,” he said into your ear, hand gripping your thigh.

“Can’t,” you said with a shake of your head. “I already have plans.”

“Oh there’s a surprise,” he said, half under his breath. And that...that was it. You immediately slammed your pen onto the table and looked at him with hard eyes.

“Would you just say whatever you’re trying to fucking say?” you seethed.

“Just seems awfully convenient that every time we’re supposed to do anything, suddenly you have plans with I don’t even know who” he said, clearly annoyed. “All I���ve done is try to accommodate you and do what you want, but that doesn’t seem to be enough,” he added with a melodramatic sigh, which was more than enough to set you off.

“Oh, that’s a fucking joke, right?” you laughed. “Maybe you’d know more about my schedule if you ever bothered to talk to me more than once a week. And you literally just said I should come over because no one else can! Like, I’m your girlfriend- I shouldn’t be your last ditch option,” you scoffed. “You know what? I can’t be here right now. Call me when you’re ready to rejoin all of us in reality.” With that, you grabbed your bag and stormed out the door, letting your feet take you quickly in any direction that was simply away. No, you were right about what you said to Nikolai- Matt only saw you as convenient.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Perhaps a scene of Fred x reader sending off their child/children at platform 9 and 3/4

Maybe while seeing things that remind them of their Hogwarts time? (E.g first day, big prank, tearful summer holiday goodbye, etc.)

Thanks!

You grabbed the bags and put them in the car. "Excited Orion?" You asked your son. "Totally! I can't wait to see Rose and Freddie!" He said practically bouncing as he spoke. You smiled and Fred chuckled. "Reminds me of how I used to be before coming to school." Fred said. You smirked. "You? Excited for school?" You teased. "I was more excited to see a certain girl at school than actually going to school." He said making you smile. Orion gagged in response. "Ew. Dad. I'm still here." He said making you laugh. "Alright you two, in the car." You said. You drove and it reminded you of the car rides you used to have.

"Dad... Do you think I'll fit in?" You asked your father who used to go to Hogwarts. "Absolutely. Hogwarts has a place for everyone sweetheart." He told you. You smiled and looked out the windows. You were so small the world seemed like it was fit for giants. Fred was the opposite though. He was excited his first year to go to school, after all he was going with his best friend and brother. He was so ready for this. Yes. The world right now seemed huge compared to him and his brother. But damn it, that's a world to be explored.

"And do try to avoid trouble, God knows your dad got into enough while were there." You said as you wheeled his suitcase to the platform. "If I recall this correctly-- which I know I am-- you were just as bad." Fred said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and Orion snickered. "I won't... Ish." "Orion." "I won't..." He was clearly lying. You sighed and you all ran through the wall. The steam hit you and you coughed a couple of times. Time seemed to rewind as you stared at your surroundings.

"What do I do once I'm on the train papa?" You asked. "you try to make friends. Don't worry doll, you'll be just fine." He assured you. His confidence seemed to make you brave as you walked over to the door, waiting for it to open. A boy stood next to you and you looked over at the brown eyes that met yours. "Hi." You said. "I'm Fred." He introduced. "And I'm George." Someone said on the other side of you making you jump. Fred smiled and you looked at the two of them. "Twins... Fascinating. My mum's a twin." You said. "Identical?" Both of them asked in unison. "Yep. Makes it difficult but I can always tell who's who." You said in "a matter of fact" tone. Fred smirked. "Wanna sit with us?" He asked. "Sure." You nodded. "We'll warn you in advance. We do pranks." George said. "So do I. In factttt--" "Y/N! DID YOU JUST PUT AN EXPLODING INK PEN IN MY BAG!?" The train doors opened and you booked it onto the train. Fred and George exchanged a look. "Brilliant! How'd you do it?" George asked. "You have to mess with the ink a little but it's not hard to do. Come on, we'll find a cart and I'll show you" you said with a smile. The boys followed you and you sat with them

Fred dusted off Orion's shirt and roughed up his hair a little. "I'll miss you kid." He said. Orion hugged Fred. "I'll miss you too Dad." He said. Orion pulled away and hugged you too. "Orion!" Rose called, waving to her cousin. You smiled at Ron and Hermione who were waving and walking over. "Hey guys!" You greeted, hugging your brother in law. Hermione hugged you soon after and you watched your kids talk before another boy ran over. "He's here." Fred said with a chuckle. "Damn right I am." A voice said behind you. You all turned around to see George and Angelina. George put an arm around you and Fred looking at the group of kids. "Just like we were hmm?" He asked.

"promise you'll write to us over the summer?" Fred asked you. You smiled and nodded. "I'll miss you guys." You said, hugging both of the boys. They hugged back and you turned to your father who made his way to the platform. You sighed and turned, grabbing your bags. Leaving was always the disappointing part about it all. Your adventures would have to come to a halt, stopping for a few months before you could continue the stories you and the boys made.

You smiled looking at them. "Yeah... Yeah they are." You said with a smile. Another boy with brown hair ran over and your eyes lit up as you turned around. "Ginny!" You squealed seeing your other sister in law. She hugged you and Hermione. "I've missed you all so much. Seriously. I know we meet up every week but Christ... I'm so glad our kids are going off this year." She said, eye twitching slightly. The familiar blue haired boy raced past you and Harry hugged the familiar figure. "Remus is here!" You smiled as he walked over. Tonks hugged you and the girls. "Neville should be showing up soon. All of us must get lunch or something together, we need to talk more." Remus said. You nodded in agreement. Fred smiled looking at the train and then Remus. "what?" You asked. "Remember when he was our professor?" He asked. You chuckled. "God, now he comes over every Christmas... We're old." You whined making Fred laugh. "Our kids are beginning to make us feel that way." Ginny chuckled, holding Lily close to her. "Thinking of having any more?" Harry asked you and Fred. Your eye seemed to twitch. "After raising him with this demon as his father, you really think I can handle more!?" You asked making the group laugh. Draco soon walked through and you waved. Draco rolled his eyes with a laugh as Scorpius beelined to Rose. He walked over. "Potter." He said in a mocking tone. "Malfoy." Harry used the same tone before the boys shared a small hug. "Think Albus will be a seeker this year like his old man?" George asked Harry. "God I hope not." Ginny whined. "Wha-- what's wrong with quidditch?!" Harry asked. "Do you not remember the injuries that came with it!?"

You raced to the medical wing with George. "Madame Pomfrey is he okay!?" You asked frantically, grass across your face along with dirt. "Yes Princess I'm fine." Fred sighed, leaning off the bed. "It was a stray quaffle it's not like I'm you who took a dive bomb for the snitch." Fred said, brushing off some of the dirt on your cheek with his thumb. You blushed at the boy and George flicked his brother upside the head. "Ow!" Fred winced. "Be more careful moron you nearly gave Y/n and I a heart attack." George said. "Aww were you worried?" Fred teased his brother. "Oh piss off." George sighed making you laugh. You sat on the edge of the bed and Fred smiled at you. "What?" You asked. "Thanks for worrying Y/n..." He said. "That's what friends do right?" You said looking away.

"remember when Fred took a stray quaffle to the head!?" Ginny reminded. Everyone winced in remembrance. "Yeaaahhh probably not the best plan" a voice said making you all turn. "Neville! Look at you, looking all... Professional!" George said making you laugh. "Why thank you George." Neville said tipping a fake hat to the man making you laugh. "first year of teaching and you're dealing with our kids... Good luck." Fred said. "I'm probably going to need it for Fred and Orion." Neville said already looking exhausted by the thought. "Wait till they're old enough and they have to take that stupid dance class... Then you'll really hate them." Angelina said making you all laugh

"Fred I swear to God if you whisper in my ear again I'm going to punch you in the balls." You grumbled. "Why, does it make you flustered?" He asked with that smirk that he knew drove you crazy. "...Shut up." You grumbled. He smiled and swayed to the beat of the tune. "You know Y/n... I was thinking--" "You can think?" You asked. "Shh. I was thinking that you and I could go to the Yule ball together." He suggested. You blushed. "As what exactly Weasley?" You asked. He pulled you closer to his face. "Oh you know Princess." He said in your ear. "OKAY OKAY FINE!" you said moving back. "Hmm?" He asked, people staring now. "YOU WIN. I LIKE YOU YOU FUCKING MORON." you snapped. He chuckled and moved towards you. "I know. Now can we fix that situation and let me date you or are we going to pretend nothing's there?" He asked. You sighed and he smiled. "I like you too Y/n, is that what you wanted to hear?" He asker. "Maybe." You grumbled. He shook his head with a laugh and put his fingers on your chin, kissing you.

"I mean... The class wasn't... So bad." You coughed out making them all giggle like school girls. "You're just saying that because that's when Fred FINALLY asked you out." Hermione said making you smile. "other than that it was hell." Ron griped. "Says the one who danced with Mcgonagall." Fred snickered making Harry snort. "Shut up." He grumbled making you laugh. "We were talking about lunch, wanna all go get something?" Ginny asked. Luna tapped your shoulder and you squealed. "WE HAVE ANOTHER!" you said excitedly ask you hugged her. "Hi Neville!" She waved. He smiled and hugged her and she rose a brow. "What did you mean by we have another?" She asked. "Lunch. You in?" Harry asked. "Definitely!" She nodded. The group all began to wave to their children as they got on the train and you waved to Orion. He smiled waving to Fred and you before Scorpius drug him off. "I should go." Neville waved. "Bye Neville!" The group said in unison before Sirius sprinted.

"RUN JAMES YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE DAMN TRAIN!" He yelled. His son sprinted on board and you all wheezed as the older wizard walked over with a blonde woman. "Hi Marlene." You wheezed out. "Hi dear!" She said as Sirius was out of breath. "So Y/n, how's the kid?" Sirius finally asked. "Yeah, enough about that, lunch, you guys in?" You asked. "Can't me, Remus, Lily and James are going to lunch later." He said. "And you were telling me when?" Tonks asked. "This is the first I've heard of this?" Remus said confused. "First I want a hug from my Godson." Sirius pointed. Harry walked over and hugged him before seeing the train start to move. "BYE MUM!" Orion shouted. "NEVILLE KEEP HIM OUT OF TROUBLE PLEASE!" you yelled. "I LOVE YOU! DAD!" Orion shouted. "LOVE YOU TOO KID!" Fred yelled back. "WHO WANTS TO SEE BABY PICTURES!?" Fred yelled. "DON'T YOU DARE!" Orion screamed making everyone laugh. You all walked towards the exit as the train disappeared and you turned around one final time.

"Fred wait up!" You whined as you followed him. "It is not my fault that you have small legs!" He said. "It's not my fault I stopped growing when I was in my fifth year asshat!" You grumbled as Fred wrapped his arm around you. George greeted Angelina with a kiss and you smiled. Fred lifted you onto his back and you screamed. "Fred! What the hell are you doing!?" You asked. "You're moving too slow, this is just easier!" He said before walking. "we're going to miss the train if you idiots don't hurry!" George said as you jumped back down. You all ran down the platform.

You smiled and Fred turned back to you. "Whatcha doin'?" He asked. "Just remembering some things." You said with a smile. "Good things I hope." He said. "Always Fred." You smiled. He kissed your forehead and walked hand in hand with you through the wall, catching up with the group, leaving the history of your story within the hidden walls.

[synthmusic91]

thoughts? kjfhlkjdfh asking bc i rb'd the original post from u a bit ago because i agreed w/ original poster but i just saw this rb of it and wanted to know what u thought. ciaran(.)tumblr(.)com /post/652413157345820673/there-is-a-genre-of-posts-thats-obsessed-with-the

well first of all i hope this isn't a bait ask. this reply really doesn't deserve the time and effort i put into refuting it, but there was a point in time when i was emotionally confused by these..."arguments", so whoever u are, anon, i hope this is helpful. i also recommend some distance - literally, "go outside and touch grass", which is a lot more difficult than it sounds, but it needs to be done. anyway, here's my "analysis":

for context, here's what the post in question said:

and the tags:

at a high level, we can see that what ciaran is saying doesn't really respond to what OP was talking about. for this reason, i'm not going to bring in much of what OP said, because it's uncontested in this context, and look at ciaran's reply. i'll try to break this up...

EDIT: i had a long-ass response here, but then i realized it was dumb because the source material is dumb. i cut out most of it, but here are the highlights.

"there is a genre of posts that’s obsessed with the notion that fandom is something much larger, more prevalent, and more able to affect the way media is processed and consumed, than it actually is in reality."

so, as we can all see on tiktok and, indeed, on the electronic lore olympus billboard that takes up a side of a literal skyscraper, fandom is no longer the niche thing that "fandom olds" make it out to be. also, we can't ignore how many (white) fandom players go on and work in the industry (cassandra clare, whoever wrote 50 shades, man idk much of anything so there's probably many more). so this comment is sort of myopic. and since this is what characterizes the rest of the reply, well...it's not great.

also don't look up lore olympus; it's basically a dd/////lg fanfic that happens to be one of the most popular series on the line webtoon app, which is rated for teens...and for $1 to the creator's patreon, you can view not sfw p*dophilic art, so. also obviously i didnt do that; there was a video essay about this. i can't find it though

"ironically but understandably, these posts are made by people who are so terminally fandom-poisoned that they ascribe phenomenal power to it, and think of it as some great evil that must be defeated (by making posts on tumblr, which is obviously a very influential thing to do)"

"fandom-poisoned" is such a nebulous term, especially since it appears to mean "has had some really significant, (in this context) bad experiences with fandom." this is, first of all, a huge assumption to make about a stranger, and second, not the own they think it is. i'm just going to link this post, and hopefully you can see how it relates.

anyway, the "making posts on tumblr is meaningless" is um...interesting, seeing as off the top of my head i can think of two very influential tumblr blogs that talk about really important issues, Gradient Lair and Red Light Politics. I don't know as much about Red Light Politics, but Gradient Lair is frequently cited by academics (not getting into academia nonsense now but... -_-). also, they sound more pissed that the original post did gain traction, but whatever. this paragraph doesn't really make sense, but nothing here does, because i wasn't given much to work with.

"...and then because these people have basically no imagination and unfailingly pick on others for their own faults, they project their own experiences on everyone they perceive as being more ‘in fandom’ than them,"

jesus christ. i'm going not say anything about the tone of this because i put too much effort into this for some rando to call me a cyberbully.

i think what they're thinking about is how there appear to be some "fandom critical" people who try to, holistically, "ruin everyone's good time" by "stirring up drama" about popular fandom artists/writers/whoever else idk. oftentimes these people will also make jokes about fandom whatever, seemingly picking on random people's interests.

however, if you look at the long history of fandom racism, fandom's normalization of p*dophilia, and even general fandom harassment, and then you look at fandom's visceral, unwarranted reaction to criticism regarding these things, you can quickly see that disillusionment towards fandom is entirely reasonable. as for the joking, well...this an oversimplification but not everyone needs to like what you like. it sounds like they just need to get over themself.

and go “You, a 27 year old queer blogger who is into [tv show/anime/movie] an embarrassing amount, are now going to be the face of Capitalism” with no self-reflection or critical thought given to how fucking cringe it is-"

so, i'm regretting putting so much effort into this because this is so fucking long and i have to analyze this nonsense...it feels like i'm back in my feminist thought class. nightmarish. but anyway, this seems to deal with- [CUT FOR LENGTH. nothing important was missed].

EDIT 2: actually here's a summary of what I had. it deserves better than to be a response to this nonsense, but first it detailed how this took 1. the op's post and 2. a comment that we don't even know if op agreed with and misinterpreted that, and threw quite a fit about this- and i hate to say this because this term is misused so often by redditors, but- strawman.

I then went on to discuss how, for example, PoC can uphold systems of white supremacy. while obviously no person of color is going to be the "face" of white supremacy, the discussion still needs to be had, especially within that group. similarly, while fandom constituents may not be the face of capitalism, there needs to be a discussion, within fandom, on how they support and are defined by capitalist (and other) systems.

it was really too good of a point to be making for this trash reply. I could go say more, but I'm still trying to stay on topic, unlike ciaran.

"to act like random people on the internet, end users with no influence over corporate decisions, are the ones personally responsible for the fact that late-stage capitalism has destroyed popular art and culture in an increasingly sordid attempt to make money."

we've been over the "no influence" bit - because in fact fans do have influence, especially since media creators are literally fans, etc etc. i'm tired of people acting like they have no power and using that as an excuse to support and perpetuate harmful, easily avoidable behavior.

also, to act like the nebulous system of late-stage capitalism is the only cause of bad media is ludicrous. first of all, someone has to make these so-called "corporate decisions", and the people making artistic decisions are, again, overwhelmingly members of "fandom." this comment is really trying to keep marvel trash and lore olympus-esque nonsense in the same atomic, indivisible category lest someone catches a whiff of nuance.

"the above post is a great example of this phenomenon because op admits freely that they only think fandom is destroying media because they have been spending more time in fandom and thus have an over-inflated sense of its importance in greater culture. posting your own Ls indeed."

i'm so tired. this person literally has 120 works on ao3 like...who is spending more time in fandom.

and the tags:

#i assure you that fandom has no bearing on my actual real life #and if it does on yours. then that is your problem #it's also a very funny problem to

now this is just egregiously tone deaf. you do not need to do more than a cursory google search to find a bottomless well of examples of fandom harassment, threats, doxxing, and violence, much of which is racially motivated. you can see why it would be bad to make fun of this. 

also the way that “fandom has no bearing on their actual real life“...120 fanfics on ao3. 120.

conclusion:

the reply clearly misinterprets of op's point, and as such, does not refute it. they responded to another issue altogether, which is that of the sanctity of their ~coping mechanism~ or whatever it is. their argument in this respect was, in my opinion, delusional and pathetic, especially given that they wrote it on someone else's unrelated post.

FINAL NOTE: i cut out lots of this because the reply went in so many different directions, so some stuff might not make sense. let me know if you have any questions.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[brideofedoras]

The Loft: Redemption

Disclaimer: the usual.  

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: Mentions of sex dreams, masturbation, naughty thoughts and implied naked Vincent Stevens.  

Rating: 18+

Chapter 5

Vincent groaned into his pillow after glancing at the alarm clock.  Three twenty-six in the morning and he was wide awake.

He blamed the dream.  Jesus Christ, did he blame the dream.

The same dream he’d had every night since he’d nearly kissed Sam in the conference room.  When she had straightened his tie and told him she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression because he was a rumpled mess.

He rolled onto his back and tossed the covers off.  “She’s off-limits, Stevens,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face.  “Too good for an asshole like you, you’d only ruin her.”

He slipped out of bed and stalked across the loft to the bathroom.  He screwed his eyes shut when he flipped on the light, the sudden brightness burning.  “She deserves better.”

Deserves better than a man pushing forty with a history of womanizing and cheating.  A man who had been arrested for murder.  A man paying dearly in alimony and child support with strict and limited visitation with his children.  A man who had fought and struggled and clawed his way back from rock bottom to keep his company afloat.

He squinted his eyes as he opened them, locking onto the shadowed eyes in the mirror.  “She’s too young for me anyway,” he sighed heavily before turning toward the shower and turning it on.  He adjusted it to the coldest temperature he could stand and stripped out of his blue and grey plaid pajama bottoms.  His erection, brought on by the damned erotic dream, throbbed against his abdomen.  He glared at it.  "Cold showers at three thirty in the god damned morning are not my idea of fun,“ he muttered before stepping into the shower.  He bit back a yelp as the stream of cold water hit his skin. 

Vincent ducked his head under the icy spray, welcoming the shock and hoping it would kill his raging desire so he would not have to deal with it himself.  In the past it never bothered him to jack off in the shower.  Back then he hadn’t given a damn.  But now?

Now he felt dirty.  He felt disgusted any time he had to bring himself to completion after dreaming about making love (not fucking, not screwing, not banging, making slow, sweet love) to Sam in his office or on the damned conference table.  But the cold shower was not helping kill the lust.  With a growl he soaped up his hands before curling his fingers around his aching manhood and thinking of anyone but Sam. But all he could see was his beautiful, efficient, brilliant assistant reaching up to straighten his damned tie.  One hand curling around the tie at his chest, the other sliding up to the knot, her brow furrowed in concentration, full bottom lip trapped in her teeth, big grey eyes shyly meeting his.

Fuck.

Vincent leaned back against the cold ceramic tiles of the shower, swearing a blue streak as he struggled to regain his breath.  He reached over and turned the shower off.  He stood there a few minutes more before stepping out onto the plush bath mat and grabbing a towel to dry off with.  He tossed it angrily toward the hamper as he stalked out of the bathroom.

He grabbed his bottle of bourbon and a tumbler.  The drink he poured he knocked back quickly.  "Dammit,” he muttered.  He poured another drink.  With a frown he filled the tumbler nearly to the brim.

Vincent knew bourbon was not the answer to his problem.  But he drank it anyway.  He chugged the generous glass and poured another to take to bed.  As he set the tumbler on the nightstand he glanced at the alarm clock.  3:42.  "Hell,“ he muttered.  His alarm was set for six, and he was wide awake.

And hungry. 

Most men would fall asleep after a damned good orgasm, whether resulting from sex or masturbation.  He never did.  Maybe it was years of cheating on Barb and not wanting to risk falling asleep and wind up getting busted, maybe he was wired different.  But he always wound up hungry.

He made his way back to the kitchen to scope out the contents of the refrigerator and grinned when he saw the takeout container from yesterday’s, no, the day before’s, lunch.  Sam had ordered extra Chinese when he’d commented about possibly working late to work on that damned park design he’d been struggling with.  "Still struggling with the damned thing, too,” he grabbed the container and popped it in the microwave. 

He scrubbed his right hand over his face as he waited for the food to heat up.  But he could not get the images from that dream out of his head.  Wide grey eyes behind those glasses she always wore.  Soft pink blush on her cheeks.  Plump kissable lips.  Silky dark hair he longed to tunnel his fingers into as he kissed her senseless or marked up her neck.  Elegant fingers he wanted to entwine with his as he made slow, sweet love to her.  Long legs he wanted wrapped around his hips as he drove into her over and over again.

The tattoo on her shoulder he’d caught a glimpse of months ago.  The memory of the sudden desire to touch, to taste washed over him.  He knew about the feather tattooed on the inside of her left wrist and the flower tattooed just behind her right ear on her neck.  She had told him it was simblemyne from Lord of the Rings when he had asked about it. 

“God dammit,” he sighed heavily.  He had never had a thing for tattoos on a woman before, hadn’t cared one way or another.  But on Sam… Jesus Christ did he want to trace his tongue and fingers over each one.  And he wondered if she had more.

He closed his eyes.  “Get a grip, Stevens,” he growled.  “It’s been a long week already, don’t make it any more difficult.”

He was a tired, cranky mess when he made it to the office a few hours later.  Sleep had evaded him when he’d crawled back into bed, even with a full belly and a fourth glass of bourbon.  How he wasn’t drunk before eight in the morning was a mystery to him, one he hoped to never have to repeat.

Thank god it was Friday.

Vincent damn near dropped his coffee when he opened the door to the office and spotted his assistant at the window with her back to the door wearing something she had never worn before.

She was dressed in a soft dove grey sweater dress, loose-fitting and hitting at mid-thigh, paired with black tights and knee-high grey boots.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head, exposing that damned delectable simblemyne tattoo.  He was accustomed to leggings paired with tee-shirts and flowy cardigans or sweaters, or fitted slacks and button-down blouses.  But a dress?  When he’d overheard her tell Linda she hated dresses?

She turned to face him when he pushed the door shut.  “You’re…”  She trailed off when she took in the bags under his eyes.  “Vincent, are you okay?”

“My turn for a sleepless night,” he gave her a tired grin.  “Don’t even think about sending me home, I’ve got to knuckle down on that damned park design if I’m going to present it next week to the city.”

“The one you’ve been struggling with?”

He snorted as he made his way to his office.  “Landscaping is not my forte, Sam,” he admitted.  “I wanted to branch out and now I’m sorely regretting it.”

“Maybe I could help?”

He stopped in the doorway separating the offices.  Did I hear her correctly?

“Or not, don’t listen to me.”

He frowned when he caught the defeated tone in her voice.  That’s not the Sam Monroe I know, he thought.  “You want to do what I do,” he turned to face her.  “You want to become an architect.”

She nodded.  “It’s been a longtime dream of mine.”

“You know anything about landscaping?”

“A little,” she shrugged.  “I designed a butterfly garden for Mom’s office building and worked with a group on a class project to design a memorial park at the university I attended.”

Vincent walked over to stand beside her.  He took her shoulder in his free hand and turned her back to the window.  “Remember the city block you pointed out the day I interviewed you?”  He dropped his hand when he felt her shudder.  Don’t overstep your boundaries, Stevens.

She looked up at him.  “Yes.”

“This is no small butterfly garden or memorial park, Sam.  This is something for families to enjoy together.  Think Central Park, but smaller.”

“I’ve never been to New York,” she admitted quietly. 

He gave her an incredulous look.  “Next conference I go to in New York, you’re going with me.”

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, tearing her eyes from his.  “What would I do in New York while you’re attending the conference?”

“Suffer through the boring crap with me, tour the architectural wonders, stroll through Central Park, eat at a five star restaurant and take in a show on Broadway.”

“If the conferences are boring, why bother going?" 

"It’s good exposure,” Vincent shrugged.  “You learn about new things, new areas of study and certification, new technology for designing blueprints.”

“I don’t see you using computer programs to design buildings,” she wrinkled her nose. 

“There’s something magical about drawing up the designs by hand,” he tipped his head toward her.  “Computers take the fun out of it.  They make the mind weak by taking out all the guesswork and calculating everything for you.  Don’t ever rely on those programs, Sam.”

She nodded. 

“What’s my schedule like today?"  He asked as he headed to his office.

"Site visit after lunch, Jennings Street apartment complex.”

“You ever visit a project site before?”

“No, sir.”

His coffee cup thunked onto his desk.

Sir. 

She just had to call him “sir”.

He fumbled to keep the to-go cup from tipping over, inwardly cursing himself at the mental images popping into his head unbidden. 

“Vincent?”

“You want to come with me this afternoon?”

He screwed his eyes shut and grimaced at his ill-worded question and husky tone, glad he still had his back to the door. 

“I’m hardly dressed for a visit to a construction site.”

“What you’ve got on is fine, Monroe.”

More than fine, his brain added quite unhelpfully.  Sexy.  Gorgeous.  Breathtaking.

“It’s fodder for construction workers,” there was that hesitation in her voice, a tone of self-doubt he’d never heard before.

“You’ll be with me the entire time, Sam, if anyone says anything out of line or looks at you wrong I will take care of it,” he turned to face her.  “I won’t tolerate anyone crossing any lines with you.”

Her grey eyes widened behind her glasses.  “I could always run home and change during my lunch break…”

“Sweetheart, it won’t matter,” he shook his head.  “They’ll stare, they’ll say something, and I promise you they’ll get their asses handed to them.”

“I don’t want to cause any issues–”

He chuckled.  “Oh, you will,” he hung up his jacket and dropped into his chair behind the desk.  “Woman on a construction site usually does.  Don’t let them get to you.  Don’t pay them any mind, but if they say something put them in their place and tell me.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Okay, but I’d feel more comfortable if I can go home to change.”

He could not argue with her point.  “All right.  I’m going to start working on that damned design in about fifteen minutes if you want to help.”

Sam smiled, “Thank you, Vincent.”

“I should be thanking you, Sam,” he smiled back.

Vincent looked up from noting a playground on the paper in front of him.  “Koi pond?”

She nodded.  “Kids love watching koi fish,” she frowned thoughtfully.  “The nursing home where my grandpa was has a koi pond in front of the Hollywood wing.  When they remodeled the vestibule they put in a section of ‘glass’ floor to watch the fish swim under it,” she hooked her fingers in air quotes.  “It’s pretty neat, but they scare the hell out of me.  Kenna still teases me about refusing to use the main entrance.  Any time I went to see Grampa I had to be buzzed in from the patio.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling and to refrain from reassuring her those floors, if installed correctly, were perfectly safe.  “You mentioned designing a butterfly garden earlier.  What if we included one in the design?”  He studied the rough layout he’d mocked up before sliding his hand along the paper to tap a blank area.  “Maybe over here away from the playground.”

Sam caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it as she swiveled on the stool, angling her body toward him.  “I was thinking of a pavilion around here, for outdoor weddings,” she murmured before immediately flinching.  "If…  If that’s okay with you?“

He frowned at the way she flinched like she was expecting to be slapped.  "Jot it down,” he slowly reached across her to pick up her discarded pencil.  “Sam, your ideas for this park are brilliant.  I’ve been procrastinating on this for weeks, and here you’ve bounced several excellent suggestions off of me in…” he glanced at his watch as he straightened from his slouch over the drawing table, “three hours.  Let’s take a break for lunch and come back to this after the site visit.  How’s that sound?”

She looked up at him.  “You really think my ideas are brilliant?”

Oh damn.

That shy smile bowing her lips tugged at his heart. 

“No,” he shook his head.  “I know they’re brilliant."  He tapped the paper.  "Make note of the other ideas you mentioned off to the side until we can figure out where to work them in.  And for future reference, keep a notebook available to write down any ideas you might get at random times.  Trust me, I’ve been in the damned grocery store more than once when a thought would pop into my head.  You wouldn’t think a package of chicken breasts would inspire an arched entryway.”

Sam giggled at that as she jotted her ideas down.  “And just how did they inspire it?”

He chuckled.  “My kids were going to spend the weekend with me.  Figured I’d get the ingredients for a couple of their favorite meals.  Kinzie, my little girl, likes this chicken breast and asparagus dish.  I was standing there, trying to remember what else I needed when it just popped into my head how she’d told me one time she wished her school had arched doorways like a castle does, and I realized that would be better for the preschool design I’d bid on.”

Sam twisted the stool to face Vincent, her eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses.  “Please tell me you included a moat and a tower in the design.”

He laughed.  “No, I didn’t,  If Kinzie had her way it would’ve been an actual castle.”

“She sounds like she takes after you,” she tipped her head toward his Castle Grayskull blueprint on the wall. 

“God, I hope she doesn’t,” he sighed heavily. 

The last thing he needed was for either of his kids to follow in his damned footsteps.

He shook off that frightening thought before pasting on a tired smile for Sam’s benefit.  “I’ll grab us some lunch so you don’t have to rush.  Romeo’s sound good?”

“I’ve been wanting to try their cauliflower risotto and parmesan crusted chicken breast,” she nodded.  “Would it be too much to ask for cheesecake?  Their blackberry swirl cheesecake looks amazing.”

He smiled at the hopeful look in her grey eyes.  “Anything else?”

She shook her head.  “No, that’ll do me, Vin, thank you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at that shortened version of his name.  He watched her walk out of his office.

I’m in trouble. 

[v0n-butch]

Five and Nine dearie! ;)

since you asked about all my stories, I have around 13-ish so this is basically a giant commentary for everything:)🤘🏼😃

hidden in plain sight

what part was hardest to write?

The fucking letters, jesus christ. I thought, ‘hey, wouldnt it be fun to have Billy’s point of view with him reading what she admires about him and make it super lovey dovey and sweet?’ and I almost gave up so many times cause fuck it was hard. Took over a week with switching the wording around and finding what flowed best. Also finding what didn’t sound creepy.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

Nah, I mean I could’ve had their places switch, where he’s the one that writes to her... but I loved writing him feel all blushy and giddy over someone thinking of him like that.

look what you’ve done

what part was hardest to write?

After the fight and the ignoring and all that pent up anger being released, there was an awkward moment with all this tension between the two in her room - that was challenging for sure. Cause he was being a piece of shit and he himself knew it, she knew it, everybody knew it. But what took some thinking was to be able to show the guy he was before the fight and his insecurities getting the best of him.

were there alternate versions of this fic?

I dabbled with a lot of reasons why they’d fight, but Billy as a person is just sensitive and insecure and him seeing something like that, no matter how innocent or short the exchange could’ve been in reality with her and some nameless stranger could still set him off and trigger the monster he’s got hidden inside. I can’t remember other scenarios I had thought of but that one stuck to me.

sixteen

what part was hardest to write?

The relationship felt natural, like I could hear all the conversations they’ve had and seen everything they’d done together, I really really liked that dynamic but one stupid small part that killed me was writing the douchey boyfriend lol. Ultimately it’s such an insignificant part, so I scrapped any further drama with him and his deal because the story wasn’t supposed to be about him; it was supposed to be about her and Billy, their past, how it affected them both when they saw each other again after so long.

were there alternate versions of this fic?

None actually! I had it in my mind right off the bat that I wanted him to be nervous and caught off guard for once. like I said in the commentary for this, I know his personality, I know he’s quite used to thinking/believing he’s the most powerful in the room but I wanted that to change for this instance, and I strayed away from having him be untouchable or macho in any way.

whipped

what part was hardest to write?

THE KIDS. I’ve never ever written them before, and I even debated watching a few episodes before tackling it.... but I didn’t and I think I pulled it off alright. I loved their humor. I knew Dustin was always being a paranoid goofball, Lucas as the same without all the anxiety or nerdy interests, Mike as impatient and pessimistic, and Will as being very quiet. So yeah, I overcame that doubt and just did what I thought felt right.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

I thought a lot about what movie they’d watch - like a rom com would’ve been pretty funny too, but I had to have him tease and scare the kids so I made their movie of the night thing be Nightmare on Elm Street😂

punch-drunk love

what was the hardest part to write?

A lot of this flowed easy and generally wasn’t stressful at all. Describing him as a fun drunk was a blast. Thinking of what he would he say if he had no filter and felt on top of the world. I can’t think of anything that I was held back by this time, it all came out in just a couple hours when I should’ve been sleeping lol.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

When I was brainstorming by myself I thought it would just be more smutty and desperate or even a little more sad. I had it planned that she’d reject him initially, but then I got an ask that changed the game and I’m really proud of how it turned out.

naive

what part was hardest to write?

I hardly went over it or stressed much other than tweaking a few details, but plot was pretty self explanatory - I think the most difficult part to write was all the possible ways there could’ve been scenarios where he could’ve mislead her

were there any alternate versions of this fic?

I almost wanted to write them in class but thought him on lifeguard duty would’ve been more engaging and had a lot more to go off of

old habits die hard

what part was hardest to write?

Literally everything. every. single. PART about writing people have sex is challenging, omg. Foreplay....down to kissing.....then down to actually fucking, I got red the whole time. Especially after posting it I’d almost pissed myself ‘cause it’s so nerve wracking putting smut out there holy christ.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

I wanted to get into their marriage and relationship but.... tbh I thought everyone would just skip it and get to the good stuff. So yeah there was probably an almost started version on my phone where I had backstory on how he proposed and all but thought no one would care too much lol.

obstacle 1

what part was hardest to write?

Hurt/comfort is a little challenging when you wanna do it differently. I wanted to sway away from her being this perfect female caregiver that knows exactly what to say and what to do cause that’s just so hard to picture when it comes to real life and all, not that I’m mixing fiction and life it’s just sometimes hard to believe that every girl is perfect at taking care of a guy breaking down.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

Nothing too different, I reasoned in my head how he’d get into trouble cause there are infinite ways Billy could’ve fucked up but.... stealing chocolate is pretty funny and juvenile, and he knew it too, but he’d absolutely still get his ass whooped anyway.

playing hooky

what part was hardest to write?

I found it hard to know what they’d do after she got blasted, cause.....what would two teenagers do in a small town skipping school? Also easily taking personal experience for her snapping and getting tired of her careful image cause everybody had these impossibly high expectations for her, but what they’d get up to doing that was ‘illegal’ that they could get arrested for took some time to think about.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

At first I pictured them maybe like breaking in somewhere they weren’t supposed to, hence the ‘we could get arrested’ line, but skinny dipping was my favorite pitch.

thick as thieves

what part was hardest to write?

The ending gave me a tough time, I had to think whether or not if I’d forgive someone for doing that shit to me. It’s happened before, to everybody and myself, the pains of drifting apart and the jealousy that comes with seeing them blossom and become social butterflies, the joys of being in high school... Oh and I’m still working on another part:)

were there alternate versions of this fic?

I dabbled with lots of ideas but I knew I wanted two friends growing apart, a push/pull between their relationship...I don’t remember what else I had planned that I ditched.

the craft (1996)

what part was hardest to write?

Maybe the love spell part. I wanted to write it as severe and dramatic as possible, and really show how desperate and gone he was.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

Hmm, I based this off the film and it does show a lot more about the girl group besides the love spell bit, but I wanted it to focus on that cause it was more interesting fucking with Billy. I liked how dark both the movie and the fic was

in utero

what part was hardest to write?

My obstacle with this one was creating this female Billy in my head, which to me was basically a flawed, outrageous, outgoing/promiscuous high school girl who makes a mistake. Writing him pining was definitely enjoyable, and him practicing his lines on how he’d say how he felt and stuff. The wording was switched around a ton, but I’m fairly happy with it. It’s not perfect, he stutters and trails off because he’s nervous, but in it’s own way I think it’s a perfect display of an insecure guy summoning up any courage he has and trying to shoo away any doubt.

were there alternate versions to this fic?

Oh man, tons of ideas came to my head with this one. I wondered if maybe she could’ve never gotten ‘rid’ of ‘it’ and then they run off in the sunset, raise ‘it’ together.... Billy maturing and finding a home with their own family. BUT the reason I chose the path she took was because she’s just a kid, fresh from high school, had no idea what she was gonna do with no money other than visit her best friend. I think she knew she didn’t want it and couldn’t stand the guy who put her in this position, so she ran.

— so there it all is, kudos to you if you actually read this far down and to anyone who has reblogged or commented on any of these.... THANKYOU🖤🥰✨

And especially thanks to Haiden cause you’re the best

[hyunsracha]

poetry —  kim seungmin

word count: 2k

summary: why are crushes so difficult?

“why are crushes so difficult?”

this was kim seungmin’s dilemma.

he flops down on his best friend’s bed, glaring at the romance movie posters plastered on the walls.

“what’s so difficult about them, minnie? they’re fun! you get butterflies and blushy and you start trying to write poetry...all that fun stuff?” his best friend, hwang hyunjin, didn’t even look up from his notes to speak.

hyunjin was the sappiest, most love-filled person seungmin knew. he loved romance movies and dating and being in love.

seungmin, on the other hand, had never had a crush before. sure, he’s been attracted to people, but no …. poetic thoughts.

“p-poetry?”

“yeah. do you….oh my god.” hyunjin stood from his desk chair, “do you write poetry about y/n?”

“n-no!”

“KIM SEUNGMIN.” and he pounced. he landed right next to seungmin on the bed, hands coming out to smack at the younger boy as he squealed.

“show it to me, show it to me!!!! i’m your best friend, minnie!”

“WHICH IS WHY IT’S WEIRD GET AWAY FROM ME-”

hyunjin huffed, his bottom lip jutting out.

“fine. but you’re really whipped, you know.”

“yeah. tell me about it.”

“okay! well, for example, today y/n came into the lunchroom and you spilled your milk-”

“HYUNJIN I DIDN’T MEAN- okay.” seungmin sighed, turning to face the boy he ‘unfortunately’ called his best friend, “what do i do?”

“have you ever thought about, i dunno, confessing?”

“eat my shorts.”

hyunjin went back to his desk, returning his attention to his math homework, “then sit and be in love and fucking Perish.”

it wasn’t seungmin’s fault he didn’t wanna confess!!

maybe he would confess if everyone else wasn’t >:(((

he understood that you were like … super pretty and nice and smart and perfect in every way (◕ ◡ ◕)

but it was like someone new confessed to you Every Day

even people from other schools!!!! >:(((

one day, he was leaving the school, and he saw you on the sidewalk with a boy from ur school’s Rival School

and the boy was blushing >:( and he had a flower in his hand >:(

but u rejected him!

just like u rejected Everyone

and he didn’t understand,,,

u could have Anyone U Wanted

whatever! he liked u better single

it meant he still maybe had a chance :(

to be honest, seungmin doesn’t remember when he first starting liking u

maybe it was when you two got paired up in chemistry and you knew Nothing about chemistry

“okay so put in one drop of the clear.”

“w-what’s in the clear?”

“it’s water, y/n.”

“oh!” and you blushed and seungmin’s heart went JFSGJSKH

or maybe it was during hoco when he was just chilling, drinking some punch, chomping on a cookie

and you came up to him :((( all shy :((( and u looked SO GOOD

and you asked him to dance with you

yeah he choked on his cookie a little bit but then that boy was ON THE DANCE FLOOR

surprisingly, seungmin Did know how to dance

being best friends with the co-captain of the dance team since kindergarten has its perks!

u were a lil shocked too like that mf just Took You In His Arms and started swaying and u were like HUH????

when did seungmin become a MAN

he didn’t, he’s just a very sophisticated Boy.

hyunjin thinks seungmin started liking you when you first met

seungmin thinks hyunjin is fucking stupid

he was FIVE and all seungmin cared about when he was 5 was sour gummy worms

“isn’t that all u care about now?”

“sour gummy worms AND Y/N!!!”

so yeah, seungmin was #whipped

AND THE POETRY THING KSJGSKGJ ok hear him out

it was 4am and he had spent like 30 years studying for a chemistry test and he was stressed to the Max and just wanted to lay down

and when he lays down, his mind naturally turns to U

and in his sleep deprived state his mind was just . Mush .

so he dragged his body back to his desk and just ~wrote~

yeah, he couldn’t look you in the eye the next day but he got his feelings out.

he couldn’t help his crush on u, especially when u were in his group of friends

hyunjin, jisung, felix, seungmin, you, and jeongin

sound like chaos? because It Is.

u and seungmin have basically become the parents of this little friend group

“jeongin let me see what u have”

“a knife”

“NO”

and

“How did jisung get on the ceiling.”

“FELIX TOLD ME I COUDL BE SPIDERMAN”

“JISUNG GET THE FUCK DOWN”

of course, being the parents meant a lot of … Teasing

especially from hyunjin, bc he was the only one who knew about seungmin’s crush

hyunjin: so when’s the wedding :D

seungmin, halting his onion slicing: Excuse Me?

you: hehe whenever seungmin’s ready!!  i know he wants to go to law school first!!

seungmin, chopping onions at LIGHTNING SPEED: HAHAHA OKAY Y/N

you always said things like that and it made him JFKDJK

one time the others were teasing him bc he dyed his hair red and they kept calling him cherry and u just went:

“so WHAT if he looks like a cherry he’s my CUTE cherry” and u grabbed his hand and glared at everyone like -__________-

seungmins brain: WHW-WW LIPSTICK

seungmins heart: H UHU H MECEHRY

seungmins mouth: YOU- WHAT - HUH- ME?

and after that :(((( u started calling him cherry :((( even after he dyed his hair again :((

back to the main point: seungmin’s whipped and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this but he Won’t Confess

hyunjin’s got a plan!

he calls it How Does Y/N Feel and he swears it’s a secret

it’s not, he wrote it on his whiteboard in pretty pastel markers

“what’s this plan of yours, sweetie?”

“MOM CAN U GET OUT IM A SECRET AGENT”

“ok mr secret agent come downstairs and eat your peas”

“MOM”

so basically his plan was to ask if u liked seungmin but hes VERY EXCITED ABOUT IT OK

“hey y/n~~~” he sang as he sat down next to you in geometry.

“jinnie!!! how are you today :D” ugh look at you, an angel.

“good, about to be better...or worse.”

“why?”

“i need to ask you something.”

“Ominous!”

“do you like seungmin?”

“ya.”

hyunjin: OUSUGH?

you: how did u say that out loud

“YOU LIKE SEUNGMIN-”

you slapped a hand over his mouth, “KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT JESUS CHRIST-

i thought you knew i like him??? like...i’m not hiding it?”

hyunjin knew seungmin wouldn’t believe it if he just told him

so he was audio recording the whole thing on his phone :) what a sneaky dude

so after geometry ended he fuckign NYOOOMED to english

“SEUNGMIN SEUNGMIN SEUNGMING HSJG SJISEUGMGING”

“dude did u do crack or something holy shit-”

“SHUT UP LISTEN TO THIS.”

“if this is another one of your boyfriend’s songs i swear to god-”

but he put in hyunjin’s earbuds (not airpods) anyway

“t-this isn’t jisung….”

and he Listened

I Thought You Knew I Like Him.

“are u fucking with me jin. is this a fucking skit i swear to god if you're MESSING WITH ME-”

“they don’t even know i was recording them.” hyunjin giggled, the snake.

“oh so you’re a total douche.”

“i just did you the hugest favor and you just called me a douche...okay! friendship cancelled, give me my phone, put your stupid airpods back in-”

“don’t call them Stupid!”

“sorry, i can’t hear you, i don’t have my STUPID AIRPODS IN!”

seungmin couldn’t concentrate for the entirety of english

your words kept swirling around his brain, and he resorted to just doodling hearts on the margins of his papers.

and then he went to Chemistry!

there you were :((( in your cute little lab coat and safety goggles :(((

seungmin didn’t think anyone would ever pull off a lab coat and goggles like you did

“h-hey y/n…”

“hey cherry! ready to make some chemistry? :D”

he inhaled, knowing that there was a chance he was going to regret his next statement for the rest of his life:

“i think you and i already have enough chemistry.”

now it was ur turn to JKSGJKH

you flushed a bright pink, turning to your lab table to hide the shy smile growing on your face

“yeah?” your voiced cracked a little bit

and seungmin knew

“yeah.”

class went by quickly, with the two of you exchanging Looks before quickly looking away

and then you had lunch! and since you ate lunch together, you walked together

this time, You wanted to be the daring one

so you were walking through the halls side by side

and after a minute you just …. Held His Hand a little bit

and he squeezed your hand in return and your tummy felt like JAOGHNJ

then you entered the cafeteria and your friends’ eyes immediately went ZOOM on your interlocked hands

“W-W-W-WHAT IS THIS?” jeongin, the poor baby, spluttered

“are you out of the loop? they’re in love!” jisung was practically shooting heart eyes at the two of you

“no one tells me anything.” jeongin pouted

“are we Not In Love, jisung.”

“jinnie u know i love you but this is FRESH and it’s FUN let me ogle.”

“JISUGN???”

felix just smiled at you two, patting the space next to him, “i always knew this was gonna happen.”

“what are you losers talking about?” seungmin asked.

“yeah, nothing happened. seungmin and i are just friends.”

“you- just- HUH????”

“he hasn’t asked me out yet.” you shrugged, pulling your lunch box out of your backpack.

seungmin gasped, dropping your hand to cover his heart, “do i have to?”

“i deserve it, you animal. i’ve only been waiting since middle school.”

MIDDLE SCHOOL???

well, this was a shock.

“MIDDLE SCHOOL???”

“yeah? you kicked that dude in the shin for me. it was nice. no one’s ever done that for me before.”

“t-the shins? you started liking him over a shin kick, y/n?” felix deadpanned.

“i was like 13 can you shut the fuck up? i don’t just like him because he kicked a guy in the shins for me.”

“oh? why else do you like him?”

“we’re not having this conversation right now, jeongin.”

“oh hell yes we are.”

“SEUNGMIN??”

but he just :D at you and you were whipped so :///

“Okay! i like him because he’s...just a good guy. like he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s….really cute and he would probably kick jisung in the shin if i asked him to.”

“i would.”

“bet!”

“okay!”

“hey what no- OW SEUNGMIN!” jisung whined, pulling his leg up on the seat

“kiss it better jinnie-”

“jisung no.”

“JINNIE :((((“

you grinned, looking over at seungmin.

he was already looking, and you could practically See the heart eyes he was sending you.

did it make you super flustered? yeah. did you mind? not really.

“so,” you leaned in closer, speaking quiet enough so that your friends couldn’t hear over whatever they were yelling about this time, “you gonna ask me out or not?”

“i’ll walk you home?”

“i’ll be waiting.”

the rest of the day went by Painfully slow

but after your last class, there he was !!!!

and he was walking you home !!!

and he held your hand !!!!

“let me get something from my house real quick.” seungmin lived closer to the school than you did, so you always passed by his house.

you waited on the porch while he ran outside

he came back in a minute, flushed and holding a folded piece of paper.

“here.” he shoved the paper in your hand, taking your free hand in his and dragging you along.

“MINNIE let me read this!!!!” you whined.

he sighed, stopping on the sidewalk to let you read it clearly.

you had to reread a few lines because they were just so pretty.

you didn’t expect something like this from seungmin, he was usually so direct and not so flowery.

but it was beautiful.

“why are you crying WHAT’S WRONG IS IT BAD-”

“SEUNGMIN HHHHHHH” you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

and he held you just back as tightly.

“so uh. do you wanna like….go out with me or something?”

“yes, you big dummy. i would love to.”

[tinylilemrys]

Rating: T

Word count: 3,407

Summary: Richie Tozier was an open book – some would call it the best thing about him, others would argue that it was the most annoying thing about him.

There were only two secrets that Richie fiercely guarded. One: he had been desperately and completely inconveniently in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, for years now, and two: Richie liked – no, loved – playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Richie Tozier was an open book – some would call it the best thing about him, others would argue that it was the most annoying thing about him. While it was true that you were never unsure of where you stood with Richie, there was also almost nothing others would classify as too much information that Richie wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing. They knew when he was angry, they knew when he was scared shitless about his Calc test, they knew when he’d eaten food that was more than a bit past its sell-by date as a dare and all about the day of spectacular gastrotechnics that followed, they knew (in great detail) when he’d found a new supermodel that he considered attractive, they knew when he had fought with his parents, and they knew when he was feeling particularly sentimental about his group of friends.

There were only two secrets that Richie fiercely guarded. One: he had been desperately and completely inconveniently in love with his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, for years now, and two: Richie liked – no, loved – playing Dungeons and Dragons.

He hadn’t meant to enjoy it as much as he did. He’d only agreed to sit on a few sessions because one of the girls from his Drama class told him it was really good way to improve his storytelling and improv skills, but after one session of being sucked up into the world that Will Jones, the Dungeon Master, had spun and being frustrated at not being able to influence the decisions the party made, Richie was hooked. He had spent all of that night creating his character and eagerly (though stealthily) handed his character’s backstory to Will at school the next day.

And that had been that. His little Gnome Cleric had been a vital part of the party for the past six months and Richie couldn’t remember what life was before he started playing.

Of course, finding excuses to duck out of plans with six other friends had proven more difficult than he initially thought it would. Though the party only met to play every second Friday, it was often when the rest of the group had made plans for a movie night or a night swim at the quarry and finding excuses to not be there was tricky. Though the excuse he’d finally settled on was guitar lessons, he could almost feel how annoyed the rest of them were each time he flaked out and though he felt bad about it, D&D had become too important to give up.

The only one who seemed to understand was Eddie, who had started tutoring to make a bit of extra cash on the same Fridays that Richie had D&D and as such was also subject to the ire of the group.

Eddie, however, had a far shorter fuse for these things than Richie did.

“Could you all just give Richie a fucking break?” he snapped one Thursday when Bill had complained about them never hanging out together anymore. “We’re in our junior year. Shit’s getting busy. You can’t accuse us of being shitty friends just because we’ve got other things going on. He’s trying his best and so am I, so back the fuck off.”

Richie had wanted to kiss him – even more so when he’d given him a shy glance afterwards to make sure he hadn’t overstepped.

Though honestly, there weren’t many times when Richie didn’t want to kiss him.

The Loser’s Club had backed off a bit after that, and it had become a routine for them to schedule their movie nights on the weeks where Richie and Eddie could make it. It had also become a routine for Eddie to come over to Richie’s place the day after the Fridays where they couldn’t hang out.

This Saturday was no different, apart from the fact that Eddie wasn’t quite himself. He’d sensed that something was wrong as soon as he opened the door, but when Eddie didn’t even fight him over which movie to watch, Richie knew for sure there was something up.

“Hey, are you okay, Eds?” asked Richie, setting down the VHS tape he was about to put on. “You seem a little down.”

“I’m fine,” said Eddie, but he chewed his bottom lip the way he always did when he was lying.

“No you’re not,” Richie replied, crossing the living room to sit next to him on the sofa. “It’s not your mom again is it?”

“No, not this time,” he replied, his face screwing up when he realised that he’d just admitted he wasn’t fine. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it’s making you this upset, it’s not stupid to me.”

Eddie looked up at him then and Richie’s heart jumped to his throat. He knew he was being reckless, that being this soft with Eddie would lead to him working it out, but he couldn’t imagine being snarky when Eddie looked so sad.

Eddie heaved a deep sigh.

“Okay, well, it’s my, uh, my babysitting.”

“You mean your tutoring?”

“Yeah, what did I say?” asked Eddie, eyes wide and cheeks flooding with colour.

“You said ‘babysitting’.”

“Fuck. Well, I meant tutoring.” He was looking down at his hands now, red-faced. “It, uh, it didn’t work out. I got let go.”

“Ah man, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Richie, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you maybe want to ditch the movie and go for ice-cream instead? You seem like you need sugar. My treat, since you’re broke now that you’ve lost your job.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Eddie replies, and though he rolls his eyes, he’s grinning. “You know me, I’d never say no to ice-cream.”

“Thought so,” laughed Richie.

Half an hour later, they were sitting on a patch of grass near the river, quietly eating their desserts. What he appreciated about hanging out with Eddie was that the silences between them were never awkward. He didn’t feel the need to fill the air with the sound of his voice, because it was always so comfortable between them. When Richie was with Eddie, he could just be.

“Thanks for this, Rich,” said Eddie, finishing up the last of his cone. “I needed it.”

“Anytime,” said Richie, lying back in the grass to look up at the sky now that he had finished his own. “Don’t stress about it though, alright? We can find you another kid to tutor.”

Eddie sighed and lay down next to Richie, propping himself up on his elbow to look at him.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t… I wasn’t actually tutoring anyone.”

Richie frowned and propped himself up on his elbows too.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I lied about the tutoring because I didn’t want you or the rest of the Losers to know what I was really doing.”

“Okay, so what were you doing?” asked Richie. “Since you telling me the truth now obviously means that you want to let me in on the big secret.”

“You swear you won’t laugh?”

“Oh, my dear Spaghetti, I can promise you a great many things, but that is not one of them.” The crease in Eddie’s brow deepened. “But I can promise you that, depending on how serious this is, I will at least try not to laugh.”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I suppose that’s as good as I’m going to get from you. Fine. The truth is that instead of tutoring every second Friday like I told you, ivebeeninadungeonsanddragonsgroupwithsomeoftheavguysforthepastfewmonths.”

“Jesus Christ, Kaspbrak, slow your roll,” said Richie, turning to his side to face Eddie better. “Tell me again, but slowly.”

“I’ve been in a Dungeons and Dragons group with some of the AV guys for the past few months,” Eddie repeated, his face the reddest Richie had ever seen it. Richie had been fully prepared to laugh or at least suppress a laugh, but none came. He was too astounded to hear that Eddie played D&D to do anything except stare at him. “At least I was until Steve, you know the president of the AV club? He said that because Grant and Matt can’t sort out their shit, he’s dissolving our party. That’s why I was upset earlier. And, yeah, I get that probably makes me more of a fucking loser than the rest of the other Losers, but I was really enjoying it. I wasn’t expecting to like it as much as I do, but it’s been really fun. See I play this Bard who’s less of a musician and more of a stand-up comedian and I’m starting to get really good at getting into character. He’s so different to me and it was just nice to be able to stop being Eddie Kaspbrak for a few hours to be someone else, you know. And I just –“

Richie places a hand on Eddie’s arm and his words, which had been flying at a mile a minute a moment ago, suddenly falter.

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” he said, knowing he should probably take his hand back now that Eddie had calmed, but somehow not being able to work up the will to. “If you enjoy it, fuck the rest of them, right?”

And it was at that point that he totally meant to tell Eddie that he was doing the same thing with his Fridays – that the two of them had been keeping the same damn secret for half a year – but it was also at that point that he felt Eddie’s lips crash into his.

Richie’s brain shut down. Eddie, Eddie who he’d been in love with for years, was kissing him. Eddie was kissing him. But no sooner had his brain began whirring back to life than Eddie was pulling back with a look of horror.

“Oh my god, Richie, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so fucking sorry I–“

“Hey, Eddie,” said Richie, smiling as he slid his hand from Eddie’s shoulder to his burning cheek. “Don’t be.”

And all thoughts of dungeons or dragons or the president of the AV club left his mind as he kissed Eddie, enjoying the taste of vanilla ice-cream on the lips he’d been dreaming about for so long, enjoying the way that Eddie’s fingers began tangling through his hair, enjoying his soft laugh as they pulled apart again, and especially enjoying the euphoria rising in him at the realisation that this meant that Eddie felt the same way. He was looking at Richie shyly through his long lashes the way he often did, but now he finally knew what that look meant.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, brushing back a tendril of soft dark hair that had flopped across Eddie’s forehead, “though I totally get the appeal of wanting to be someone else for a few hours, I happen to like Eddie Kaspbrak. Like, a lot.”

“He likes you too,” Eddie replied. “Like, a lot.”

There was no way he was changing trajectory now to tell Eddie his other secret. Not when Eddie was scooting closer to wrap his arms around him, not when the two of them were lying together watching the blue sky turn from orange to pink and eventually deep blue, both the happiest they had been in years.

He later realised of course – long after Eddie finally announced that he should head home, long after the hour it had taken them to finally move after this announcement, long after trying to bring it up during the car ride home, though being unable to find the moment to – that there was no longer a good time to tell Eddie that he also played D&D, not without an unnecessarily awkward conversation.

He had missed his window and now he hoped and prayed that another would miraculously show up.

–

The next two weeks were the best of Richie’s life so far. Though he and Eddie had both agreed to keep it quiet for the time being, there were so many stolen glances, and brushes of skin and kisses that the secret felt less like a burden and more like a covert and daring mission. So far it seemed that the Losers suspected nothing, to the point that they had even gotten away with holding hands the whole way through that week’s movie night without anyone noticing.

As the two of them lived the closest to each other, they spent every moment they could at each other’s houses (though mostly at Richie’s – his parents were far more prone to knocking than Mrs Kaspbrak was). Despite all the time that they spent together, however, Richie still hadn’t found a good way of telling Eddie that he was in a D&D party. He fully acknowledged how ridiculous his situation was – he couldn’t bring himself to say it, though he also couldn’t imagine that Eddie would be too upset if he just told him and it would mean that he could potentially invite him to join their party. Their party could do with a Bard. The rest of the drama kids were too focused on exploring the tragedy of their backstories and the idea of having Eddie’s quick wit and banter at the table was a glorious one.

There was just no good fucking way to bring it up.

It was getting to the point by Thursday evening where he found himself, for the first time ever, dreading the next session. He knew he had to tell him – he wasn’t going to give Eddie a sloppy excuse – but he was already curling into a ball at the embarrassing idea of not only having to admit to Eddie that he also played D&D, but also that, for whatever reason, he had felt too awkward to talk about it until then.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to do anything when a beaming Eddie stopped by Richie’s place on his way home.

“I can’t stay – my mom’s inviting people over tonight so I have to help her set up. I just wanted to let you know that I found another group that plays D&D and I’m starting with them tomorrow. I don’t even have to change my time slot.”

“That’s great,” Richie said, pulling Eddie into a hug just as the pager in his pocket started beeping.

“Shit, that’s my mom. We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

“Always.” Richie kissed Eddie on the cheek and when it looked like he was lingering at the hope of more, Richie laughed and nudged him out the door. “Go, you dork. The last thing we need is your mom not letting you come over anymore because she thinks I’m trying to kidnap you or some bullshit.”

“Miss you already,” said Eddie and though Richie vowed he would never, ever, be one of those couples, the sentiment made his stomach somersault.

“Miss you too,” said Richie, closing the door before he said anything more cliché and sappy than that.

Richie got to Will’s house early the next night to help set up the game table and set out chairs.

“Are you alright there?” his friend asked, giving him a curious look. “You’re kinda bouncy today.”

“I have ADHD – I’m always bouncy.”

“You know what I mean,” scoffed Will. “It’s like you have an extra spring in your step or something.”

For a brief moment, Eddie’s face popped into his head and Richie couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“I guess I’m just really looking forward to tonight’s session,” he replied and though Will still looked curious, he didn’t press the matter further.

“Oh shit, before I forget,” Will said, taking a tray of pizza rolls out the oven, “we have a new guy joining us tonight.”

It took every one of Richie’s spider-man reflexes not to drop the bowl of chips he was setting out.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded casual and not like his blood was suddenly pounding in his ears.

“Yeah. Steve Himble from the AV club says that two of his players were giving him shit so he decided to just stop the game, but he’d invited this guy from his Biology class to join them and he feels shitty that he dissolved the party just as he was starting to really get into it. Apparently, he’s really good. He’s playing a Bard, so that should be fun.”

“Yeah,” Richie replied, not sure what else to say. Was it too late to fake being sick to avoid the situation that was rapidly hurtling towards him?

The crunch of tyres in the driveway answered that question for him.

When the rest of the party had arrived and there was no sign of Eddie, Richie began to hope against all hope that Eddie had chickened out or that he wasn’t going to show, but there was a damning knock at the door five minutes later. Eddie strolled into the room a moment later, as adorable as he always was, cheeks flushed because he was no doubt embarrassed to be the last to arrive.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said as he strode towards the table. “I took a wrong turn and I got…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes locked with Richie’s and Richie, unsure of what else he could do to make the situation less awkward, waved at him.

“No worries, Eddie,” said Will. “We usually just talk bullshit for the first half an hour anyway. I take it you know Richie?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Eddie replied, pulling his eyes away from Richie to introduce himself to the rest of the party. When he took the seat next to Richie, Richie was certain that his heart was visibly thudding like in a Tex Avery cartoon.

“Sorry, Eds, I meant to tell you, but the moment passed on the first day and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up again without looking like a dumbass,” Richie whispered.

“The good news is that you don’t need to worry about looking like a dumbass,” Eddie replied under his breath as he set out his character sheet, notebook, and dice, “because you are one. And I’d be a lot madder at you if it wasn’t just such a fucking relief to see you here.”

He threaded his fingers through Richie’s under the table, and Richie beamed at him. The crisis had been averted.

Eddie was as good as Will said he was. It became instantly clear from the moment he opened his mouth that he was just what the party needed. His Bard was snarky, impulsive and had a witty comeback for almost everything. Richie had been right in his guess that they would role-play well together – their characters bantered back and forth seamlessly and it filled Richie with pride to see the rest of the party laughing at Eddie’s clever one-liners. It was also the best feeling in the world to glance over at the person he loved more than anyone else in the world and know that he was enjoying all of this as much as he was.

While in combat with several wyverns that had suddenly snuck up on the party, Eddie nudged Richie, pushing his notebook closer so that he could read what he had scribbled there.

Salvan is kinda based on you, just so you know.

Richie couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, despite the twenty points of damage Lucy’s character took just then. He scrawled his reply beneath Eddie’s message, the words curving up because of the angle he was writing at.

Pips is kinda based on you too.

Eddie gave him a confused look and began writing again.

An angry little gnome cleric? I don’t get it.

Richie raised an eyebrow at him.

Think about it, babe. You’re obsessed with making the people around you better – healing – and you hold a disproportionate amount of rage for someone so small.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie after reading the note, but the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Fuck you so much, Tozier. ♡

Richie’s stomach flipped at the little heart next to his name, and he smiled softly to himself as he penned his reply.

Fuck you too, Kaspbrak. ♡♡

Eddie blushed, and Richie wondered how he had gotten so lucky. For the first time in years, he officially had no secrets.

Well, he mused as he took Eddie’s hand again under the table, at least not from him.

–

@faequill

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins 

I wound up writing a little thing based on those panels you showed me of villains “rehabilitating” (but actually being mind-controlled) at Clear Mountain Center in X-Men 92.  This was meant to be a funny story about Fabian in rehab learning how to talk to women, but it got a little disturbing because of the mind-control aspect, and also Avalanche tells a grim little story about baby murder, so warnings for that.  But now I’m really tempted to write something about Haven taking the place over and actually Doing It Right.

“So,” Fabian began, speaking in the halting tones of someone attempting to wrap his mind around a difficult concept. “You’re saying you’re not attracted to me?”

               “Not in the slightest,” said Tabitha Smith, the mutant known as Boomer (and also Time Bomb, Boom-boom, Meltdown, and whatever other code-name caught her fancy).  Her tone was firm, but she smiled at him, as if to soften the blow.  “I mean, you’re obviously good-looking, just not my type.”

               “Oh, of course, you prefer women.  I understand.  I am open-minded about such things –“

               “Nooooo…..” Boomer cut in, with some slight irritation creeping into her voice.  “I’m mostly into guys.  Just different types of guys.”  Fabian thought hard.  He was tempted to spread his legs out wider, to give her a better look at what she was rejecting, but he’d gotten enough tiny power-bombs to the crotch to learn that that was a bad idea.  (The low-powered bombs did no real damage, but they certainly stung.)

               “I get it, I get it.  You are holding yourself back.  You are maintaining a professional relationship because you are my counselor.”

               “No!”  Boomer held her head in her hands for a moment, sighing.  “Look, not every woman will find you attractive, okay?  Everyone has different preferences.  Like, people think Leonard Decaprio is super-hot, and he just doesn’t do anything for me, I’m more of a Brad Pitt girl.  It’s not something you need to feel bad about, it doesn’t mean you’re like, ugly, or anything like that.”

               Fabian’s mind whirled.  This girl was young, beautiful, a powerful mutant, and had showed him such kindness as his mentor.  She had a surprising amount of wisdom underneath her shallow and flippant demeanor.  And yet, her judgement was so unsound. Perhaps she had some kind of psychological condition, like a strange form of face-blindness?  But then, Fabian had been learning to accept many ideas that had previously seemed impossible.  The idea of living with the humans in peace.  The idea of answering hatred with understanding, not violence. The idea that he should treat others with kindness and respect, instead using them as stepping stones in his quest for status and power.

               “Very well,” Fabian began again.  It was difficult to force the words out.  “I…accept that you do not find me attractive.  I….accept that some people…..may….not find me attractive.   After all, there are many different preferences in this world.”

               “Yeah, dude, exactly.  It’s like…some people like Cool Ranch Doritos?  And some people prefer Nacho Cheese.  There’s no right or wrong, except for the people who like Funyuns, because that shit is nasty.”  Fabian wanted to roll at his eyes at her rather low class tastes, but instead he found himself laughing good-naturedly.

               “Ha, ha, yes, that is a funny joke,” he said, beaming.  It was strange.  His mind felt so….slow.  Like there was this weight pressing down in it.  But at the same time, it was oddly pleasant.  A bit like Anne Marie’s more enthusiastic hugs, which always threatened to break the recipient’s back.

               “In Spain we have jamon flavored potato chips.  Perhaps you would find them interesting to try.  I will bring some back the next time I visit home.” He did not add that he had never eaten those chips, they were junk food for peasants, but if this girl found them enjoyable, he would indulge her.  It was a nice thing to do, and he found that he wanted to be nice lately. He didn’t entirely understand why.

               “Oh dude, that would be amazing!”  Boomer exclaimed.  “I love trying junk food from other countries.  There’s so much cool stuff out there.  Did you know that they have, like, a whole ton of Kit-Kat flavors in Japan?”

                I don’t care, Fabian wanted to say.  I spent my time in Japan eating Kobe beef and blue-fin tuna, not wasting my money on cheap candy.

               “No, I didn’t know that,” he said aloud instead.  He hadn’t meant to say that.  He hadn’t intended to sound so interested, but his mouth and brain did not seem properly connected.  The pleasant feeling hung over him, almost suffocating.

               “OMG, there are like, so many!  There’s strawberry, and sweet potato, and soy sauce, and wasabi – which is like, better than you’d expect – and sake, and…”

               Fabian wanted to tell her to stop prattling, but he couldn’t quite find the words.  He looked around the outdoor area while she rambled on.  There was Blob pruning rhododendron bushes with Storm, the blossoms tiny in his huge, clumsy hands.    

               “….and blueberry cheesecake, and apple pie, and brown sugar syrup, and cantaloupe which sounds totally disgusting but apparently it’s pretty good, and…”

               The Kleinstock brothers and Frenzy were tossing a Frisbee around with Feral and Cannonball, while Vertigo and Arclight were playing scrabble with Polaris and Multiple Man.  Ruckus was strumming a guitar, pausing occasionally to sweep his hair back dramatically, and clearly looking around for an audience.  Ugh, he was singing “One Tin Soldier.”  Fabian hated that song.  Fabian hated……a lot of things that were happening at that moment.

               “….and maple, and pumpkin, and chestnut, and green tea, and Tokyo Banana, because apparently that’s a thing, and..”

               He hated listening to this stupid girl spew out every thought in her empty brain.  He hated sitting in group therapy and listening to the peons that he shared the facility with whining about their inconsequential problems.  He hated having to hug people.  He hated being stuck in this adult daycare while he should be leading his Acolytes to victory against humankind (and racking up a few kill points for the Upstarts while he was at it.)  Something in his mind was breaking free.

               “Enough!” he snapped, jumping to his feet.  “This isn’t right!  I shouldn’t be here!”  Boomer paused in her Kit-Kat flavor recital.

               “Whoa, dude.  Chill out. You need a time-out, or something? Maybe you need some time in the Angry Room.”

“No, I do not need some time in the Angry Room,” Fabian snarled.  “I don’t belong here with the  rest of these losers, there’s nothing wrong with me.  I’m….I’m so much better than the rest of you.  I’m practically a god!  I should be….should be –“  His eyebrow twitched.  His body shuddered, and a fixed grin came over his face.

               “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying things like that. What am I thinking?  We’re all special in our own way.  I just want us all to be friends,” Fabian continued.  A single tear leaked out of one corner of his eye.

               “Hey, good job, man,” said Boomer, patting him on the shoulder. “You recognized a negative thought pattern, and then, like, stopped it.  That totally deserves a Hershey Kiss.”  She tossed him the silver wrapped chocolate.

               “Thank you.”  Fabian shuddered again, and then his body seemed to relax, his tense smile softening into one that seemed genuine, if a bit dazed.  “I like Hershey Kisses.”

               “Don’t we all, buddy.”

               “They are good,” Fabian continued, pulling the foil off and popping the chocolate in his mouth absent-mindedly.  “This place is a good place.  We are all good here.”

               At the table, another group was mid-way through a fairly intense game of Uno.  Most of the group (X-Men included), would have preferred poker, but apparently that wasn’t wholesome enough the rehabilitation process.

               “I’m just saying, we didn’t start the war.”  Avalanche slapped down a card, perhaps slightly too hard. “Humans want to stomp out anyone who’s different.  That’s the whole damn history of the human race.”

               “But nothing will change if we continue the cycle of violence,” argued Colossus.  

               “We must ‘turn the other cheek,’” agreed Nightcrawler. “Send out a message of peace and love.” He betrayed that sentiment by tossing down a Draw Four card.

               “Yeah, and the guy that did that got nailed to a cross, didn’t he?”  Avalanche retorted.  “Didn’t work out so well for him.”

               “You can’t be expecting us to imitate Christ, can ya?” Pyro put in, throwing a Reverse on the stack.  “He was all flawless and perfect and ‘ineffable,’ right?  And he had a get-out-of-death-free card.  We ain’t got that.”  

               “You could have that, by the Grace of God –“ Nightcrawler began, than stopped, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, this is not the right place for that conversation.  I know religion is very personal, and everyone must make their own choices.  But I will talk about it with any of you privately, if you want.”

               “All I’m saying is, humans have tried to bloody kill us,” Pyro continued.  “Are we supposed to just lie down and take it?  I’ve had people turn on me, even back before the Brotherhood, before I committed any crimes.  People that I thought I could trust.”  The cards in his hand crumpled as his fist clenched.

               “Humans are fucking brutal.  I’ve seen…..”  Avalanche shook his head.  “There was a woman back on Kalymnos, gave birth to a baby with gills.  Nothing wrong with the kid otherwise, it was just a cute baby.  But people acted like it was the damn anti-Christ.  Her husband moved out and wouldn’t have anything to do with her. And one day….”  A slight tremor rippled across the table as he continued. “One day some guy just snatched the baby out of her arms and threw it down on the rocks.  I’ll never forget how she screamed.  And nothing ever happened to the guy.  He was a murderer, and the police did nothing.  Everyone just pretended that it never happened –“  The table shook visibly now, the vibrations spreading out into the ground around them.

               “Tovarish, please calm down.  I understand how that memory must pain you, but –“    

               The vibrations suddenly stopped.  For a moment, Avalanche looked confused, then a dull smile spread across his face.

               “I’m sorry, friends.  I just get upset sometimes, thinking about that.  I shouldn’t dwell on such horrible memories.”

               “Yes, we should just think about good things,” Pyro agreed, wearing the same sickly smile.  “We are in a good place.  We are all good here.”

               Sitting in the sun on the roof, Toad wrapped his arms around himself, smiling.  He felt….good.  For the first time that he could remember, he was entirely at peace with himself.  He wasn’t plagued with anxiety at every social interaction, waiting for the inevitable rejection, wasn’t miserable when he looked into the mirror.  No more flashbacks or sudden fits of sadness or anger.  He woke up and was actually eager to get out of bed in the morning, eager for a day that he knew would bring good things.  And people were actually being nice to him!  There was no superficial politeness or poorly hidden disgust, no cheap pity.  Just genuine kindness.  His counselors and the other former super-villains actually seemed glad to see him every day.

               Of course, sometimes it felt too good to be true. Sometimes he would look around and everything would feel slightly off, like one of those hyper-realistic dreams where you can only tell that you’re dreaming because something in your room is out of place.  He felt like he was constantly wrapped in a blanket of warm air, and it was so good and comforting, but it made him dull and sleepy.  (Perhaps this was what being drunk was supposed to be like?  For the normal people?  When Toad tried alcohol, it only seemed to make him sad.)  Things were very hazy, and it was hard to put his thoughts together.  But that didn’t matter, did it?  Because finally he was safe and happy, and everyone was so nice.

               “This is a good place,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “We are all good here.”

[you-got-skamed]

Make Me Feel - Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: You meet Roger at the store you work at, sparks fly and he invites you to the Queen concert that night. Alcohol, a certain blonde drummer and relentless flirting, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is my first time publishing something I wrote but my love for Roger Taylor is bigger than the fear of putting my writing out there. I hope you enjoy this little prompt and please don’t hesitate to send me messages if you want to talk about the fic or just Queen in general :)

After today’s shift you were definitely going to quit your job. Screw the money, screw the fact that you needed to pay rent, screw every stupid customer that walked through the doors of the clothing store you worked at. Not only did your boss call you in on your first free day in weeks, no. On top of that two of your colleagues called in sick so you had to man the store by yourself with only one person at the register. Now after possibly the most stressful shift you ever had it was nearly closing time and your patience for dealing with customers was damn near gone.

“Oh, cheer up Y/N! We only got an hour left and then we’re both free from this hellhole, mate,” Marc, your favourite colleague, called after you while you were angrily cleaning up the mess that the last couple of people had left behind.

Usually, you really loved working at the small boutique. As far as jobs go, it was pretty chill and the group of people you worked with were great. Mostly students just like you. Looking at the clock again, you noted that there were only 45 minutes left until you were allowed to close the store and not a single customer was in sight, so you started to hum along to the radio that was playing in the background while you folded clothes and rearranged a couple of displays.

“Marc, would you mind getting me the new shirts that arrived today? I think they’re on the shelves all the way at the back,”you yelled towards the front without looking up while diligently trying to get as much work done as possible.

Just for once you wanted to leave on time and not have to stay longer because some dumbass customer came in 5 minutes before closing time and made a giant mess. Marc only grunted in affirmation and went downstairs to the small room the shop used as storage. Already thinking about the paper for one of your literature classes, which you had to finish writing tonight, you didn’t notice the door opening and a couple of people filing in. When you finally turned around you couldn’t help the annoyed expression that crossed over your face before you caught yourself and started smiling. “Hey, Welcome to Bold. How can I help you guys?” you cheerily asked in your fake retail voice.

The group of men that just came in curiously looked around the store. One of them emerged towards you. “We’re just looking around, darling,” he sauntered past you but then turned back around. “Actually, I changed my mind. We’re looking for outfits for tonight! Something flashy and glam. Considering your store is called Bold I assume you have things like that.” 

He had a big smile on his face and even though you desperately wanted to be mad at him because there was no way this would be done before closing time, you couldn’t. He was way too charming for that. First, you scrutinized the men to get an idea of their style. Then you nodded to yourself and got to work. It was actually pretty fun to dress them which made up for the fact that you would get home later than usual. They introduced themselves as a local band that had an impromptu gig tonight but no fitting clothes.

Freddie, the lead singer, picked out a lowcut silver shirt with black skinny jeans, both technically out of the women’s department but he pulled them off better than any woman you had seen them on. Both Deaky and Brian went for something stylish but not nearly as risky as Freddie. Then you turned your focus towards Roger, the drummer of the band, and truly something to look at if you were completely honest. The other boys were currently ringing up their purchases with Marc, chatting with him and seemingly getting along pretty well.

Going up to Roger who was currently browsing through the men’s section, you cleared your throat and interrupted him. “So, pretty boy, what do you want?” His blue eyes shot up at you and a small smile formed on his lips.

He leaned a bit closer to you. “I don’t know! What do you think will look good on me, love?”

It was like your brain went blank. Was he flirting with you? “Oh, I think most things here will suit you,” you answered without thinking and laughed softly. What the fuck? Were you flirting back? What was this man doing to you?

Roger simply smiled at you and held up his hands in surrender. “Just pick something. I’m sure it will look fantastic.”

Thinking about it, you actually had the perfect jacket for him. It was black with silver applications all over it. You handed it to him. “What do you think?”

His eyes lit up and he quickly tried it on over the shirt he was currently wearing. “I love it. It’s beautiful,” he murmured. Already turning around, you reached for a simple black T-Shirt. “I would wear something like that under it.”

Roger just smirked. “Don’t worry, love. I already own the perfect thing to go under that jacket.”

You raised your eyebrows but didn’t want to ask further. “Great, then let’s ring you up, so I can finally go home,” you said enthusiastically and made Roger follow you to the register where his friends were waiting for him.

“You found something, darling?” Freddie inquired and curiously looked at the jacket in Roger’s hand. “Oh, that is nice. I might steal that from you.”

“I might too actually!” added Deaky. “Nice job, Y/N.”

You blushed slightly. The whole group was just so kind and seemed to be fun to be around. Now your day didn’t seem so insufferable after all. After Roger had paid, the group already turned to leave but Freddie hung back as if he had forgotten something.

“Oh, wait. How rude of me. Y/N, you should totally come to our gig tonight! We’ll put you on the guest list as a thank you for helping us and an apology for coming in so close to the end of your shift.”

Surprised you blinked. “You really don’t have to! It’s nice of you but it is my job after all and despite that I have a paper to finish.”

Freddie stopped your protests with a wave of his hand. “Darling, it’s a Saturday night. Do you really want to sit in your room studying or do you want to listen to great music and get a couple of drinks on us?”

A smile creeped on your face. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

Roger handed you a flyer. “Everything you need to know is on there. Don’t be late, love,” he winked at you.

If you were able to focus on anything else despite his gaze on you, you would have seen Brian and Deaky looking at each other and rolling their eyes. But you were too busy staring at Roger’s beautiful face. How was it fair that he went through life looking like that? It should be illegal to be that attractive. After they left, you regretted accepting their invitation for a minute. You were tired, you had other stuff to do and you were broke. But due to exams you hadn’t been out in a while and it couldn’t hurt to finally socialize a bit and get out of your apartment at least for tonight. And the prospect of seeing a certain blonde drummer again made you want to go even more. Tonight should be fun.

 Just two hours later you were standing in front a bar on the other side of town. For the first time in weeks, you had taken time to get ready and you were feeling pretty good about yourself. You were wearing a red velvet slip dress with a plunging neckline, your favourite pair of heels and an oversized denim jacket on top of it.

Other than work you hadn’t really left the house since exams started and wearing something else than sweatpants felt really good. Confidently, you went past the line, ignored all the stares and went up to the bouncer.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“My name is Y/N. I should be on the guest list,” you said, ignoring his suggestive stare, pulling the jacket closer and hugging your body. Christ, it was freezing outside.

The doorman quickly checked his list and let you in. As soon as the door closed behind you a rush of warm air hit your face. It was so crowded in here that pushing past all the people that tried to get towards the front of the stage proved to be difficult. Realizing that it was futile trying to find one of the band members in this chaos you decided to head to the bar first and get yourself a drink. Even though that was equally as difficult, using your elbows you managed to catch a spot at the bar and leaned on the counter to tell the barkeeper your order over all the noise. All of a sudden, a warm hand was on your lower back. Immediately you turned around, relieved to see that it was Roger.

He smiled at you. “Y/N, you made it.” Just as the bouncer, he eyed you up and down, but his gaze made you feel something completely different. “You look fantastic,” he leaned closer and whispered in your ear, making run shivers down your spine. His hand never left your lower back and you felt a tingling sensation.

In disbelief at how many people were still pushing into the bar, you looked around. “I’m not trying to be mean, but I didn’t realize that you guys were that big of a deal.”

Roger’s answer was interrupted by the barkeeper putting your drink down in front of you and you started to dig in your purse for money. “She’s with the band. Everything she orders is on us,” Roger said to the barkeeper who just nodded and left to serve another customer.

Sighing you grabbed your Gin & Tonic. “I should say thank you, but then again Freddie promised me a free drink. Still, thank you for enabling me to get drunk tonight.” Roger laughed and you started to look around for his bandmates.

Again, he leaned in closer than necessary and screamed into your ear. “Listen, let’s go backstage! The show starts in 20 minutes and I still need to get changed. Oh, and you’ll have a way better view from the side of stage without getting groped by strangers.”

You just nodded as he took your hand and dragged you through the crowd. Unlike for you, people actually parted to let Roger through. Some people, especially girls, were giving you nasty stares but you payed no mind to that. You were too busy being overwhelmed by everything. Before you realized Roger had manoeuvred you toward the stage entrance and finally you were able to walk without being pushed around and all the noise from inside the bar was dulled as the heavy stage door closed behind you. Both of you went to the band’s dressing room where Brian, Freddie and Deaky were hanging out, already in their stage outfits.

Brian was the first to notice you. “Y/N, hello,” he said absentmindedly while plucking his guitar, playing a couple of chords. Deaky was in conversation with someone but he smiled at you and gave you a tiny wave.

Freddie was sitting in front of a mirror trying to smooth down the shirt he was wearing. “Hey Freddie.” You said putting your glass down and shrugging out of your jacket to put it somewhere in the dressing room. In the mirror you could see Roger’s reaction to the big jacket coming off and revealing the tight dress you were wearing. Your eyes met and you raised one eyebrow. Freddie turned towards you and broke the moment between you and the drummer.

“Y/N, darling, you look stunning.” He frantically looked for something on the table in front of him and noticed Roger’s stunned expression. “Roger, I know she is gorgeous, but you need to get changed. She will look just as pretty after the show. Then you’re free to do whatever,” he teased and made Rog blush. The drummer turned around and disappeared into one of the changing rooms.

“Can you help me with this, Y/N?” Freddie dangled his eyeliner between his fingers. You sat down on the bench next to him and plucked the pencil out of his hands.

“Sure, close your eyes.” As careful as possible you drew a sharp line with a tiny wing at the end. Not wanting to mess it up took a lot longer than you imagined but when you were finally finished, and Freddie looked at himself, the big smile he gave you was worth it.

After one of the people swarming in and out of the room informed everyone that the show was supposed to start in 5 minutes, Roger finally came back. And what you saw took your breath away.

The black jacket looked amazing on him but what was even more amazing was the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. He was bare-chested with just some necklaces around his neck. Now it was your turn to look stunned.

“Like what you see, love?” Roger smirked and sauntered towards you. You should say something. Something sarcastic, something witty, anything. The only thing that came out was a quiet “yes” when he stood right in front of you.

His eyes were focused on you and he licked his lips. Your breathing quickened and you would have kissed him right then and there if there hadn’t been so many people around. Again, it was Freddie who brought you back to reality.

“Alright boys, show starts now.”

Together you walked towards the stage, Roger brushing against you every chance he got, making your skin tingle. When it was time for the boys to finally walk out, you wished them luck and stood at the side with some other friends of the band.

They started to play, and you were immediately in awe. Now you weren’t surprised anymore at the amount of people here. Freddie was an amazing performer and his voice gave you goose bumps. Their songs were so catchy and just like everybody else you danced along. Despite the fact that the whole band had such a magnetic presence on stage, your gaze kept on wandering back to Roger.

The way he played his drums, with such vigour and passion, did things to you. He caught you staring and held your gaze. Suddenly you felt hot and you weren’t sure if it was the effect of the alcohol.

Sooner than you liked their set was over and the boys were leaving the stage after a roaring applause from the crowd. As soon as Roger jumped down from the platform his drum set was standing on, his heavy gaze settled on you. And you were right there with him. He didn’t even bother saying anything to his bandmates. Just as before, he took your hand and dragged you along with him into the changing room he came out of earlier.

“Roger, wha…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before his lips were crushed against yours and his hand was buried in your hair to angle the kiss better.

Nothing about this was soft. Roger was all teeth and tongue and rough edges, and you basked in every minute of his lips gliding against yours. This was like nothing you experienced before. Fire was running through your veins with every stroke of Roger’s tongue against yours. Eagerly you slipped the jacket of his shoulders and peppered kisses down his neck and the front of his chest. You could feel his chest heaving against your lips.

Putting one hand on the back of your neck, Roger pulled your face up again to kiss you. The other hand wandered down to grab your ass, but it didn’t linger there. Slowly he pushed up your dress and reached between your legs. You gasped when he pushed one finger inside you.

“Christ, you’re so wet for me, love,” he moaned in between kissing you.

All control was lost when he started pulling back out and pushing back in in a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders because you were pretty sure your knees would collapse otherwise. As if he had read your mind, Roger put one hand around your waist to hold you up while he kept on pumping his finger into you.

Loudly you moaned, your head falling back against the wall behind you. “Roger, Jesus fucking Christ,” you swore when he picked up the pace. He chuckled.

“Roger is enough, Y/N.” Unable to give a coherent sarcastic answer, you just opened your eyes and glared at him. But then he curled his finger inside you and you’re back to being completely lost in the sensations.

“Rog, I need you.”

Lazily he kept on fingering you. “What do you need? Use your words, love.”

That little shit had the audacity to tease you. Fuck, you could barely think straight. Your breathing was labored.

“I need you inside me. Now,” you whispered sounding nothing like your normal shy self.

Immediately he pulled away from you and started to unbuckle his pants. Looking around you spotted a counter which you quickly hopped on after losing your underwear. You caught Roger’s eyes when you opened your legs as an invitation to him. Both of you knew that this was going to be quick.

He pumped his cock a couple of times before stepping up to you and lining himself up with your entrance. Quickly he looked up at you, searching your face for any reservations you might have. Blue eyes stared into yours. You answered him in kindness by simply kissing him feverishly. Just as you pulled back, Roger pushed into you in one swift motion. You heard him curse but you were too lost in the feeling of him filling you up to even realize.

A broken moan left your lips. His forehead leaned against yours as he kept on fucking you with a fast pace. Not caring who heard you, your moans kept on getting louder and louder which only seemed to spur Roger on.

“That’s it. Come for me, love,” he said huskily and reached in between your legs again.

With that touch you exploded, screaming his name and Roger wasn’t far behind, your orgasm sending him over the edge.

For a short while you just stood there, both breathing heavily. Then Roger slowly moved away from you and discarded the condom while you tried to make yourself look less fucked in the literal sense of the word.

The comb in your bag fixed your messy hair but there was nothing you could do against the growing hickey on your neck and the fact that your lips looked swollen. At least your make-up was fine.

Roger watched as you pulled your dress back down and put your hair in a ponytail. He came up to you while you looked at yourself in the mirror. Softly he pressed a kiss against the back of your neck.

“They’re all going to know that we did it,” you murmured feeling self-conscious.

Roger smirked. “Well, as loud as you screamed my name everyone in that bar should know.” Then his face became serious. “If you worry about the guys, they’re not going to say anything. And for everyone else. Good! I’m glad they know.”

Finally, you were finished, and you turned back around. “You don’t mind? You’re pretty damn proud of yourself, aren’t you, Roger Taylor?” you asked laughing and putting your hands around his neck.

The smug look on his face was answer enough. Roger put his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss against your face.

“Let’s go and enjoy the rest of this night. I promised you a drink, didn’t I?” You laughed and followed him.

Leaving the house tonight might have been the best decision of your life.

[wotinspntarnation]

The Pursuit of Love •Chapter 1•

Pairing: Stripper!Sam x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: just shy of 2500

Warning: language, strip club ?, drinking

Summary: After endless failed dates set up by students and staff of the school you teach at, you cave in to a night out with your girls. Little did you know you’d meet the love of your life. Can the two of you make your opposite lifestyles work or will everything fall apart in the pursuit of love?

A/N: I AM HYPED ABOUT THIS OK. THAT'S ALL, ENJOY.

Beta: @ravenangel33 god bless u

Moodboard: me but I learned my mad skillz from @anotherwaywardsister

He had to be the most handsome man you have ever seen, long brown hair with hazel eyes that could kill, a pure white smile framed with the most beautiful dimples you’d ever seen, and his body. God was he chiseled, with the strongest V line, and just enough hair to cover his pecs along with a delicious happy trail.

The amount of adrenaline and excitement that pumped through your veins straight to your core was insane with him dancing and grinding above you. You flung your head back as a fit of laughter overtook you; there was no way this was real.

Just as you were about to pull your head back up, he was licking a stripe from your collar bone to your chin. “Mm, so fucking beautiful.”

Did you hear him correctly, or was the music too loud for you to decipher his words?

-

You loved your job and how you could teach an Advanced Literature class, which was really just conspiracy theories, as long as you assigned homework. “Guys, it’s been two months; I think I’m allowed to assign a three page essay now”

“Butttttt, Y/N, you’re the cool teacher.” whined Nick.

You came around the desk, taking a seat on it. “Oh Nick,” you sighed. “I could definitely make it five or ten pages like the other teachers… .”

A collective gasp and “nooooo” came from your class of juniors and seniors followed by Nick’s sigh, “Fine, at least let it be fun.”

“Oh sweetie, everything I do is fun.” You winked, his cheeks turning bright red as he began to shift in his seat.

You slid off the desk, coming up to the white board to grab a dry erase marker. “All of my seniors know me well; that’s why they’re in here for a second year,” you began while uncapping the marker and turning to the group. “I want you all to tell me about a conspiracy you genuinely believe in, no matter how crazy. No one will be reading it but me, and the grading is simple; show me why you believe it..”

You wrote the assignment with stars at each end. Capping the marker and setting it on your desk you smiled, “And yes, I know. ‘But it’s Friday!’ That’s exactly why you have a week to finish it instead of the weekend.”

All the students began shoveling books into their bag; and as you finished your sentence, the bell rang. “Have a good weekend, kids!”

Not even ten minutes after the bell rang, you heard a sudden voice. “I have a surprise!”

“Fucking Christ, Elizabeth. You scared the hell out of me; let me hear it.” Elizabeth was wonderful, and the only teacher friend you could stand. Vegas was a difficult place to make friends, let alone trying to make them while working at a school.

“Wellllll, I know you haven’t had the best of luck with the douchebags here,” she began.

You rubbed your fingers at your temples, “Yeah, don’t remind me of all the messy dates my students and you have tried to set up,” you chuckled.

She sat on your desk, “Yeah Yeah, anyways! You’ve also been stressing about work, SO Rachelle, Marissa, and I are taking you to a strip club tonight,” she finished, bringing her hands together.

Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You know I have eighteen year olds in my class right? With my luck, I’ll end up seeing one of them there.”

“Okay the likelihood of that happening is very small. You have no choice! We’re picking you up at 8!” She called back, jogging out of your room.

You slumped back into your chair, “I swear, if I see any of my students there, I will have nightmares.”

-

You heard a knock at your door, Elizabeth’s jaw dropping as you opened it. “Okay, I’m used to seeing the Y/N who wears jeans and button ups most days; where is this coming from?”

You blushed, curling slightly into yourself. You were wearing a skin tight, satin pink romper matched with a diamond choker and black, peep toe pumps. “I don’t get out much… .” you stated as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You look hot, don’t even deny it. So grab your shit; we’re about to to go watch sexy men strip for us!” She shrieked.

As you walked down the strip, heads turned. All of you were dressed for the night of your life, and boy was it going to be that. “Oh my god, Marissa! You’re engaged!” You giggled while shoving her lightly. All the girls broke out into another fit of laughter.

“Okay. In my defense, I can look; but I can’t touch.” She managed to choke out in between laughs.

As you came into the club, you were escorted to a center table near the front by an older gentleman who had a salt and peppered beard. “God, would I love to get my hands on that. Think he’s a sugar daddy?” Rachelle purred as he walked away.

“Okay, so here’s the lowdown. There’s four songs; we get a beer per song.” Elizabeth spoke, pressing her pointer finger against the table.

“No getting shitfaced tonight, Y/N,” the table laughed. You put your hands up. “It is not my fault that I can handle liquor better than you.” An ‘oooooh’ echoed as the lights dimmed.

Stage lights turned on as the first beats for “Salt Shaker” began. There, stood five beautiful men dressed in trousers and white button ups, forming a “v”. Within seconds of the song starting, they ripped off their shirts and pants leaving them in Calvin Klein jock straps.

To the back left, there was a man who was smaller in stature, but still toned, with light chestnut hair that flopped to one side and blue eyes. To the back right, there was a man similar to his height, but a little more built with a wider rib cage and dark brown hair with a short cut and piercing blue eyes. In the front was the older man who escorted you to the table, he was shorter than the rest; but lord did he have a nice body with tousled brown hair and gray/blue eyes.

Between him and smaller statured one, there was a taller man with messily spiked, dark blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, about the same build as the one to the back right. But the last one.. he had to be the most stunning. He was the tallest, with long brown hair that didn’t quite part down the middle and hazel eyes that weren’t quite brown, weren’t quite green. He was the most toned and built out of all of them with a light layer of hair that adorned his massive pecs and trailed down to his crotch in between the strongest V line you had ever seen.

The song came to a close, the room went pitch black, and you could hear shuffling. “You ladies are in for a treat tonight” beckoned from the surrounding speakers. The beat for “Candy Shop” began as he spoke, “Tonight we have our newest member, Jack.” A spotlight at the mid left table flicked on as Jack jumped on the table. “The apprentice, Castiel.” Another spotlight turned to the mid right table as Castiel jumped on the table. “A very loved, Dean.” You practically had to turn all the way around to watch the repeated process at the back center table.

Whipping around, a spotlight was on your table. The beautiful, long haired man stood across from you at the table. “A favorite, Sam.” Marissa shoved you little as your jaw hung open at the sight of him jumping on the table.

Snapping out of it you scanned everyone, “Was this planned?!” All of them giggled, wooing at the lumberjack on your table.

“And you ladies can’t forget about me..” he trailed off as a spotlight hit him on the stage. “I guess you could call me the god of stripping, but for now call me Chuck.” He winked, sliding the mic stand behind him.

They were all dressed in camouflage pants, combat boots, a white shirt, dog tags, and an Army style hat. As the lyrics “I’m a seasoned vet” blared through the speakers, they all ripped off their shirts and dropped to their knees. You made eye contact with Sam, and you felt like your heart was in your throat. There was so much going on, but you couldn’t help notice that his eyes were locked with yours. They weren’t roaming to the other women at your table, even as they filled his pants with dollar bills. All the guys must choose a lady to look at during the number; that had to be it.

As the song finished up, Sam took a hundred dollar bill from his belt and tucked it into the plunging neckline of your romper. With a wink, he jumped off the table and the lights went off again.

Before the next song even started all the girls were screeching, “Oh my god Y/N!!! That was so hot.”

“Down On Me” boomed through the speakers as the lights turned back to the stage, the men in an opposite “v” from the first song. Jack and Castiel were in the front, Chuck in the back. Leather vests with hoods adorned their bodies, hoods up. They also had on leather underwear and open fingered gloves to match. Through the entire song, you couldn’t keep your eyes off Sam, and it seemed he couldn’t keep his off you.

Sams POV

More often than not you had women request your table; it was nothing new. The chosen woman would sit directly across from the stage; you would do the dances and be done. It was never special; they were always brides to be or married women, and you knew your boundaries.

You watched from the back door, waiting to see what woman Chuck escorted to your table. Jack, Dean, and Cass came up next to you. “Heard this one is single, and hot.” Dean jabbed at you with his elbow while leaning into you. You shushed him, and Chuck escorted a group to your table. You waited to see who would be placed in the sacred chair.

“Holy shit.” Castiel muttered as a beautiful woman in a satin pink outfit sat down. Chuck caught your gaze and winked at you.

“Holy shit is right. God she’s beautiful and curvy.” Dean stated, and he was right. She was perfect. You turned around, speed walking into the dressing room.

“Dude, you’re pacing like me, but I’m the one who’s new.” Jack laughed, the others joining in.

“I don’t know man; I’ve never felt like this, they’re all usually about to get married or are already married. Never had to worry about actually being attracted to them.”

Dean slapped his hand against your back, “Well Sammy, tonight’s your lucky night.”

Thank god your outfits were made to restrain erections, because you’d had one since the lights turned on during the first show. The second show was even better; you could see her beautiful Y/E/C and plump lips adorned by bright red lipstick. You couldn’t fucking wait for the final show.

—

As the stage lit up for the last song, there was a chair seated at the center, facing the audience. You could hear Chuck’s voice, but he was nowhere to be seen. “As some of you may know, Sam has the final show. A lucky lady gets a personal lap dance from him, and generally she knows who she is. But tonight, it’s a little different. Miss Y/L/N, please come up.”

You gasped, looking back and forth from each girl as they giggled, shooing you up to the stage. You seated yourself as you heard Chuck’s voice again, “Have fun sweetheart, and do keep your eyes forward until instructed otherwise.

The spotlight dimmed slightly and as “Ride” began, the crowd of women roared. Suddenly, a blindfold was obstructing your vision and two giant hands were running down each arm, your core throbbing. Sam spun the chair around as the music picked up; your hands grasped it in shock. “Don’t worry darling, I’ve got ya.” Your body was overwhelmed with not only his hands touching every bare inch of your body, but his scent. It was unique, vanilla and sandalwood.

As the second verse began, he took the blindfold off. The beautiful view of Sam in jeans and a bow tie being the first thing your eyes caught, raking up his body to his pearly white smile caged between two dimples, then up to his eyes that were watching your every move. As the final chorus was beginning, you flung your head back.. there was no way this was real. Just as you were about to pull your head back up, he was licking a stripe from your collar bone to your chin. “Mm, so fucking beautiful.”

Did you hear him correctly or was the music too loud for you to decipher his words? You gasped, your panties were immediately drenched, and you could tell he knew as his cock strained in the jeans against your stomach. As the final piano notes played, he leaned into your ear, “Meet me at the bar afterward.” He finished, nipping at your earlobe and you shuddered.

Sams POV

Your hands were shaky as you tied the blindfold. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your mind of the anxiety. She got scared as you turned the chair around, and you couldn’t help but reassure her that you had her. Everything was going fast until you took her blindfold off; then the world seemed to stop as you watched her eyes practically fuck you and then meet yours. She threw her head back, and you couldn’t help but lick her neck. She smelled decadent, and the thin layer of sweat covering her body made her glow. As the final notes played out you leaned into her, praying to God she couldn’t notice how shaky your voice was. “Meet me at the bar after.”

You high fived all the guys once you were at the bottom of the stairs in the back room. “Damn dude, I’ve never seen you that passionate on stage,” Dean commented, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you from pacing, “You asked her to wait behind, right?”

You nodded, pushing past him to grab your regular clothes. “Yeah dude, of course but I’d be fucking lying if I said I weren’t nervous. I don’t know; it’s just different. She’s actually single and beautiful.”

“And sexy.” Cass added with a smirk.

You pulled the black v neck over your head and let the front of it set slightly tucked into your Levi’s. “I’ll give it fifteen minutes for the place to clear a bit, and I’ll meet her over there.”

Tags: no tags yet but maybe you guys are interested?? @spnskinnyballs @mrs-meghan-winchester @supernatural-teamfreewillpage

[weareindeedbastards]

ok but listen guillermo del toro is just so fucking good

so the shape of water was clearly about minorities stepping up to the man and shit right?

but it wasn’t just plot-wise and dialogue driven it was also visually. And yes it’s pretentious of me to assume people won’t get these because they’re not super subtle visual cues and very basic college film class 101, but I wanna talk about it anyway bear with me

so the story being set in 1962 makes the plot a lot easier to go about. Cold war, experiments, usa vs russia and the rest of the world can go fuck itself. It just makes sense, tense times. But more than that, it was a fantastic opportunity to highlight human hypocrisy at its most obvious (woof that sure was some alliteration right there). The early 60s wasn’t drastically different from its preceding decades. A lot of its culture was basically just everything back until the 30s but with a new stamp on it. And when I say that what I specifically have in mind is what my man del toro decided to focus on here: ideals vs reality

you thought I was gonna say minorities again, right? well hold on, children, I’m getting there

we’ve all heard it before. “Boy, I sure wish I could go back in time. I’d love the 40s/50s/60s, wouldn’t you? Apple pies, milkshakes, tight hairdos and pretty polka dot dresses to the sound of some jazz, nothing like it, don’t you think?” And while my answer is usually nervous laughter it’s not just because those people often fail to realise my developing country did not exactly have the same americanised culture. It’s also because no I wouldn’t love it. Sure there’s some nice aesthetics that we associate with the time periods but I’d much rather enjoy them in modern times which we absolutely can. Why? Because life would suck for me as a poor, queer latina. And I know people who are all sorts of categories that don’t exactly thrive in these conditions (non-white, non-rich, non-straight, disabled, etc) who would and have said the same. We don’t romanticise those times because they wouldn’t be kind to us unlike the often clueless upper middle class abled straight white person posing the question. And you know what, I think it’s ok some don’t realise! It’s not their fault, guys, they grew up hearing about how awesome it was from people like them. They never saw or heard it from another pair of eyes.

And that’s precisely what the film does. But it doesn’t just say it, it shows it too.

Mr of the Bull presents us with the glorified ideals of the time. The whole shebang, from the stereotypical family Giles has to paint for an ad and the real life examples of it, Strickland’s family

to peak 40s/50s/60s culture: an all-smiles blond man tending to a colourful diner full of sweet treats

and all of it emphasised by the sounds of Vera Lynn and Carmen Miranda through scratched vinyls and old TVs (the latter which is, probably intentionally and ironically chosen for the soundtrack because it’s a white woman who’s often seen to represent brazilian culture despite being portuguese so as to be more mass marketable than the exotic but too foreign actual brazilian culture - but hey that doesn’t sound as nice or printable as “the brazilian bombshell”, huh?)

it all sounds nice and cosy though, doesn’t it? Pop me open a cold glass bottle of cola and we’re good to go...but woah there, only if you’re a privileged straight abled white man, of course. That’s right it’s exclusive to a very specific group and it’s irregardless of your personality! In fact, both examples above are assholes but who still get their ego boosted by a submissive wife, adoring clients or a salesman. Who cares about having things because you earned them or simply treating people the way you wanna be treated, right?

Meanwhile the minorities suffer but differently, because despite all of them being marginalised groups they present different layers of experiences and social positions in the hierarchy. What do I mean by that? Eliza and Giles are both white but are discriminated over something unseen. Eliza is disabled and Giles is queer. Zelda and the couple who show up at the diner during one scene are discriminated over something visible. They’re black. And on top of that a bunch of these characters are not well off and gotta struggle in such undermined jobs.

And once again, all these power layers are told to us but also shown.

With privileged characters being positioned upfront at the camera, all big and untouchable, while minorities...

are sheepishly hidden in the back.

And yet it takes a character like Giles being discriminated for showing his true colours to finally open his eyes and see other marginalised groups’ suffering which he previously ignored.

He who, just like Eliza in comparison to Zelda, was previously closer to the camera to seemingly represent the second layer at the social positioning - aka they were benefited by their appearance but held back by their unseen “problems”. But Giles finally takes a step forward, and after subtly defending the couple’s mistreatment (could have been a lil bit firmer buddy but ok) quite literally rises above the unkind privileged man showing that in the end he’s not the real loser here, he’s not “lesser”. And again the camera play shows the change with perspective and character size. Intimidated -> determined

He then comes out braver and ready to kick some ass! Kinda..he helps rather gently, as himself, which is accepted by Eliza because accepting your friends as they are is super badass. And just as he does this the visuals of the dreamy 60s begins to seem darker and darker in saturation and our knowledge of how cruel the world can be taints every idealised scenario we step in.

While also being a more optimistic metaphor for leaving outdated concepts behind and moving on - note the cutesy old fashioned font washed in darkness, but it’s on the back of a van being driven by a scared gay man helping a mute female janitor take the weirdest member of the squad (it’s ok nobody judges anymore, acceptance rules) back home. This is a love mission dammit.

As for our two girls? Our help-people, shit-cleaners and piss-wipers as Mr Cutthoseoffalready put it? They were always strong. And when the time came to help each other they fucking stepped up to the task alright.

Whether it was in the simple but incredibly difficult act of not submitting to the abuse of someone who knows fully well their privilege allows them to get away with it (ew look at that creepy smile, christ dude, it’s darker than your fingers)

- which Del Totoro portrayed by having the villain taking over all the upper space on screen, never respecting others’ space and just keeps taking up more. He’s so in your face that the mirror in the scene where Zelda is threatened reinforces this manmade claustrophobia of our heroines’ enemy being everywhere. Much like the challenges minorities face everyday... -

to some aggressive action taking. They came, they saw, they took frogman to the docks. And all these characters quite literally crushed the repressive society represented here by the male ego, in turn represented by stricklame’s teal car getting rekt (cry, bitch, cry those repressed feelings out)

And they did it all despite the obstacles of their underprivileged positions because in the end, my lambs, it was their social setbacks that made them stronger, more caring and more resilient. All until they were finally the bigger person on camera, standing above their oppressors and becoming the (literal lens) focus of the story to the privileged character’s eyes.

And just like the Amazon Merman God showed us minorities: you can do it too. Guillie is using this dark, but uplifting fairytale to say that he believes in you.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, have a nice day

[itkeepsgettingworsethings-blog]

Oh god everything sucks

Jesus fucking Christ. It’s been a downhill slope ever since getting to my college and I don’t even know what to do at this point. So many bad things have happened to me that it’s simply unbelievable. 

I started off with a shitty-ass roommate who decided it was his business to get into MY business--he criticized how long I washed my hands, insisted I was responsible for creating a “smell” in the room despite the fact that none of my friends or I could smell it, refused to stop setting unnecessary alarms early in the morning until I brought in the RA, left pubic hair all over the toilet, and peed all over the floor and then denied it. He gave me a sense of paranoia that I still carry with me; my new roommate has been chill af, but I still worry I upset the new roommate with tiny, unimportant mistakes even though they don’t matter. 

I recently found out that I have a combination of cubital tunnel syndrome and wrist tendonitis (specifically De Quervain's tenosynovitis) after months of trying to figure out exactly what I had. This has been a bit of a problem, since I am currently a viola major. Backstory: In late November, I found nerves in my wrists twitching after a particularly long piano session, leading me to drop viola and piano for over two months. Since I was set on doing music, I was constantly stressed and worried. I have, up to this date, had 6 doctor’s appointments to try to fix me. I feel the cubital tunnel is slowly getting a litttttle better, but my wrists still are not good. In fact, the bases of my thumbs have started hurting. Not looking great.

My viola playing, which had begun to suddenly deteriorate over the summer, has just spiraled downward. I used to be able to play difficult concertos relatively easily, but now I literally (and I mean that word fully) struggle to play an easy Bach Cello Suite movement. I tried to improve the way I played, but instead I made myself unable to play. I literally am going to switch majors to Economics because I can’t play anymore. I’ve never told anyone--not my girlfriend, not my best friend, not my parents--but the only reason, pretty much, that I’m quitting is because I can’t play for SHIT. If I could suddenly play again, I’d gladly keep up classical music. I’ve made up excuses to the aforementioned people because the truth just sounds so absurd, but it’s the truth. I still enjoy classical music, and I wouldn’t really want to give it up normally. If any of y’all out there still think there’s hope for me to change the way I play, you can lose that hope--two months without playing, and my bad habits are still getting in the way of my playing? They’ll never go away.

I also started off this semester with shitty-ass grades. Last semester was a breeze; I was a committed music student and classes were easy as pie. My calculus class (my only really difficult class other than theory) was a breeze because I had an easy professor. Now, I’ve started off with two C’s in calculus and a B+ in Econ. Fucking great.

Finally, for the first time in my life, I got a girlfriend. I’m not trying to throw her under the bus or anything, but handling a relationship is fucking stressful as fuck. Not only do you have to worry about your problems--you have to worry about someone else’s as well? It’s a responsibility--one that, in my current mental and physical state, I am ill-equipped to handle, especially considering the fact that I have never done anything like this before. At least my girlfriend is a great person to be around and she seems to like me, which feels nice. But we suddenly had our first roadblock (not even really an argument, but I’m worried that I unintentionally hurt her), which will be discussed below.

And today. Holy fucking shit I’m typing this at 3 AM. I normally associate Fridays with positivity--I don’t do much work outside my classes, I go out to dinner with friends, I hang out late into the night, I watch a movie, etc. etc. Today, everything just went completely to shit. This guy--let’s call him “Diego”--came with us to dinner, and he just fucked everything up. 

Diego and I have been pretty good friends for a while. We met in the same calculus class, and he was one of my first real friends here. We’d often get breakfast together and hang out with other friends on weekend nights. He didn’t seem to be a very emotional kinda guy, and I got the sense that he didn’t really give much of a shit about other people, but that was ok with me. He’s got a weird but good sense of humor, and is reaaaally smart. He’s also the same major as me and hangs out with the same friend group as me, which makes him the ideal friend to have on my side. We’ve actually been working with a group of friends to form some kind of business club at our college, and I was also planning to room with him and a couple other friends next year.

Then today, Diego and my girlfriend are messing around. My gf jokingly says, “Punch me. You won’t, bitch!” AND THEN HE ACTUALLY FUCKING PUNCHES HER. HARD. I was shocked. I knew Diego wasn’t a very empathetic person at all, but I didn’t think he’d go that far. My gf was understandably VERY pissed, and exploded at dinner, telling him to apologize. He didn’t. (I have a theory about that; more about that down below). My gf was understandably even MORE pissed, and we spent one hour starting from 2 AM just talking about it. It didn’t help that another personal issue in her life was going on that she found out about that same day, so she was having a really bad time.

So, my theory on why Diego did that? Here it is: he’s a fucking asshole piece of shit. My best friend (we’ll call him Steve) is a little closer to Diego, and so Steve tried to justify his behavior, saying that Diego wasn’t usually like this and that Diego was normally a really nice guy. However, I personally know Diego quite well as well, and as far as I can tell, Diego didn’t seem off his game at all; plus, when Steve and me messaged Diego later asking if Diego was going through a rough patch, Diego claimed he was “fine.” Diego constantly insults and roasts other people, and I really honestly don’t agree with Steve on this one. However, the problem is I can’t disassociate myself from Diego. He’s a central part of my friend group, first of all. Second of all, he’s a smart guy who wants to live abroad after college, so he’s bound to be successful and influential later on; I’m going to probably run into him later on. Finally, I reallyyyy want to create that organization with him, especially now that I’m leaving my school’s music program. My gf was hurt that I still didn’t want to ditch him completely, but what the hell can I do? I didn’t give her my reasons either, which probably looked hella sketchy, but I’m pretty sure my reasons wouldn’t convince her at all.

Man everything is so bad right now. I just need some sleep, but I don’t think I’ll be able to, despite how tired I am. Fucking Christ.

[morningsound15]

The view of someone of the girls, a moment where they noticed what was going on (no need to be the first time)

“woooow, i love this concept ! i would love to see more of them “falling in love” or being extremely obvious about their affair like in the kitchen scene or even Fat Amy figuring it all out. “

Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12203370/chapters/27763473

Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them.

She isn’t shy. She’s never been shy. She’s loud and brash and completely honest 100% of the time. She thinks the worst thing a person could possibly be is dishonest — about themselves, about other people, about anything. She abhors dishonesty. Lying makes her feel sick to her stomach.

She’s honest. She’s honest and loyal and outgoing and sociable, funny and quick to crack a joke, the first one to start ribbing on her friends in the middle of an awkward situation. She breaks ice, relieves tension, and tries her damndest to always be the life of the party.

So, Amy is a lot of things, but ‘oblivious’ is not one of them.

She is, and always has been, extraordinarily perceptive. It’s something not a lot of people give her credit for. Not her parents, not her art teacher when she was 15 and adamant about learning to perfect painting the ‘naked male form,’ not the old man who lived in the Outback who taught her how to shoot a bow and arrow when she was 10 years old, and certainly not her roommate.

Amy thinks she should probably be insulted. Beca must think she’s the stupidest person on the planet if she’s convinced that her charade is fooling her even a little.

She should be insulted. But mostly she just finds herself exhausted by the lengths to which Beca goes to hide her very obvious affair with Chloe.

Because really, at this point? They’re only keeping it a secret by default, by not explicitly telling everyone they know that they’ve been regularly fucking. There’s nothing discrete about them, and it’s ridiculous that they think they’re being anything close to secretive.

Look, it’s none of Amy’s business. She likes Jesse just fine, but she likes Beca and Chloe a hell of a lot more, and if you ask her she’d tell you they’re both being moronic by dancing around this thing that they have going on. She’s never met two people more supremely well-suited for each other in her entire life, and the fact that they clearly refuse to talk about it infuriates the hell out of her.

These two idiots just need to get their heads out of their asses and figure it all out.

They really are exhausting.

~~

She figures it out entirely on her own. She wants to make that very clear. No one tells her, she doesn’t walk in on any sort of compromising situation, and she definitely doesn’t see any incriminating texts while she’s digging through Beca’s purse looking for $20.

She figures it out on her own.

(It isn’t like they make it difficult.)

There’s fact that Beca is frequently gone from their room but Amy hears Jesse complain nearly every time she’s around him that the Bellas are hogging all of his ‘Beca time,’ so she knows she isn’t off at his place.

There’s the fact that sometimes Chloe decides to wear sweaters and scarves in the middle of spring and Amy knows it isn’t because of her quirky fashion sense because one time she sees a peek of Chloe’s neck, marked red and purple with love bites (like they’re in middle school or something, Jesus Christ), and another time Chloe lets her sweater fall down to her elbows as she’s digging through one of the taller cabinets for a bowl for her cereal and Amy can see something that looks distinctly like rope burn around her wrists.

There’s the fact that Beca leaves a set of handcuffs locked to her headboard one day, and while Amy has to admit she doesn’t know a ton about Beca and Jesse’s relationship she’s almost positive that they aren’t for any of their kinky sex acts.

There’s the fact that Chloe turns red in the face when Beca stares at her for too long. The fact that Chloe hasn’t dated anyone in nearly four years; not since she met Beca. The fact that Beca goes quiet and glum and practically murderous whenever she sees someone hand Chloe a drink in a bar or ask her for her number over coffee. The fact that Amy starts to find bits of Chloe’s wardrobe scattered around their shared bedroom in the oddest places (a bra behind Beca’s desk, a jean skirt in the shower, a button up shirt on the floor with more than a few buttons missing). The fact that Chloe slinks and ducks out of the room whenever Jesse shows up, the fact that she goes into a depressive spiral whenever Beca goes home with him for the holidays (it only happens twice but those are some of the darkest days Amy can remember).

Honestly, they could both do to learn a little bit of subtlety. But Beca especially needs to brush up on her covert lying-my-ass-off-to-my-boyfriend mannerisms.

Sometimes Amy feels like she isn’t even trying anymore.

~~

She figures it out on her own, but once she knows it’s like she can’t stop seeing evidence of their relationship everywhere.

And these two idiots clearly can’t keep it in their pants longer than five damn minutes.

God, sometimes she thinks they aren’t even trying.

They disappear together at frat parties, Beca’s fingers tangled in Chloe’s as she drags her into a spare bedroom or an upstairs bathroom, totally out in the open for just anyone to see or notice.

They duck out of group dinners early with flimsy excuses while they exchange hungry looks, like they think none of the other girls are going to catch on to what they’re up to.

They disappear for long weekends, squirreled away up into Chloe’s bedroom to ostensibly ‘brainstorm setlists’ no matter what time of year it is or if they have any competitions coming up.

Beca will sneak out of her bed in the middle of the night, long after she thinks Amy’s fallen asleep, and Amy won’t see her until the next morning.

They stop talking. Sometimes for weeks at a time. With little to no explanation given to the rest of the group. Amy knows when they’re fighting because group dinners are particularly icy, because Beca and Chloe avoid each other’s gaze at rehearsal, and because the weeks when they’re fighting are the only times Amy can reliably count on her roommate actually spending the entire night in her own bed.

Most of the time, Amy thinks she’s the only one who notices what’s going on between them because she’s the only one who is supposed to see Beca every single day. None of the other girls notice if Beca isn’t in her bed, if she leaves the room at two in the morning, if she starts hiding her phone when she goes to the bathroom, if she stays up until the early hours of the morning restlessly turning over and over in her bed, if she wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, if she starts getting dark bags under her eyes, if her expression flashes with the smallest amount of panic whenever Chloe’s name is brought up unexpectedly.

She thinks she might be the only one who notices.

But for fuck’s sake, they could try and make it a little harder, couldn’t they?

Like, one time, in the middle of the damn afternoon, she walks in on them full on making out in the kitchen. In their shared kitchen! In the middle of the afternoon!

Chloe has Beca pressed up against their refrigerator, Beca’s hands slowly running through Chloe’s hair, their lips moving lazily against each other like they’re in no rush at all. Beca is smiling into Chloe’s mouth, and Amy would think it was almost cute if she didn’t also think it was so fucking reckless of them.

So she slips out the way she came, out the back door, without making a sound. She takes a breath while she’s out there, waits a beat, and then stomps up the stairs. “Who’s home and wants to make me lunch!” She calls as loudly as she can, taking care to slam the door behind her before taking heavy, deliberate steps into the kitchen.

When she gets there they’re standing almost ten feet apart, looking the picture of perfect innocence except for Chloe’s messy hair and a flush that creeps its way slowly up Beca’s neck.

They barely look at each other while Chloe starts to dig through the fridge. Beca slips out the front door mumbling something about “Class” and Amy watches her go, feeling monumentally sad.

And maybe also a little disappointed.

She thinks that she should tell Jesse. She really, seriously considers it.

God, she almost tells him so many times.

But she doesn’t. She can’t. She feels like she should but she also feels like it isn’t her business. She likes Jesse a lot, but her loyalty lies with Beca, Chloe, and the other Bellas before anything or anyone else.

She feels like she should tell him but she isn’t sure if it’s really her place.

She doesn’t know what Beca and Chloe are playing at with this whole business, but she knows that it isn’t right. She doesn’t know if they’re both struggling through some serious internalized homophobia, if they’re just using each other for the physical relief, if they’re in some sort of serious denial. She’s not sure if they’re both sociopaths who don’t care about the feelings of the people around them (although she’s pretty sure that one’s not true), or whatever else. There could be a million reasons for why they’re doing what they’re doing.

Amy doesn’t know what their deal is but she knows they need to figure their shit out and fast.

Otherwise it’s going to end up ruining their lives.

That’s one thing of which she is certain.

~~

“Hey, Amy? Can I ask you… kind of a crazy question?”

Amy cracks her knuckles and stretches, throwing her feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. “Fire away, hot stuff,” she says, throwing Stacie a perfectly-executed wink.

Stacie glances over at Cynthia Rose. They both look equally nervous as they sit gingerly on the other side of the couch.

Amy turns to pay them her almost-undivided attention. (She has to keep one ear on the Jeopardy! game playing out on her daytime TV program, obviously. Otherwise, though… full attention.)

Cynthia Rose clears her throat. “So… we might be crazy…”

“We definitely think we’re a little crazy,” Stacie interjects.

Cynthia Rose frowns. “Right…” she says carefully. “Either way. You… you live with Beca, right?”

Amy squints at her. “Did you forget?”

“No. No, it’s just…” Stacie and Cynthia Rose exchange a significant look. “Have you noticed her acting… odd, recently?”

“A little off, maybe?” Stacie continues. “Secretive? Disappearing at weird times and acting vaguely hostile when we ask her about where she’s been?”

Amy regards them with a look of pure concentration. She weighs her words carefully. Brings her hands together, her fingers forming a bridge that rests against the tip of her nose. She purses her lips. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

Cynthia Rose’s face is carefully impassive. “What do you think we’re asking you?”

“Well, if you’re asking me whether or not Beca and Chloe are secretly having a prolonged sexual affair, then the answer is an affirmative ‘yes’.” She yawns again and turns back to the TV. “You don’t have to play coy. We all know, by now.”

The murmur of the TV is the only sound in the room. Amy blinks and looks back at her two friends.

Stacie and Cynthia Rose are sitting completely still, their mouths wide open, identical expressions of disbelieving horror on their faces. “I’m sorry…” Cynthia Rose finally says, looking completely rattled. She shakes her head and snaps her mouth shut. “They what now?”

Amy swallows thickly. “Oops.”

[ellrond]

Fave Thomas headcanons, pls.

sorry for the late reply!! this has been in my inbox for like a week but i wanted to give it the attention it deserves!! 

also i dont know if you’re asking for fandom headcanons that ive noticed or my own, but seeing as how i havent seen that many (none actually really spring to mind if im honest) this will just be an incomplete list of my own thomas headcanons unless otherwise stated

(disclaimer: of course it’s very difficult to have an original thought these days, and if you’ve seen these headcanons anywhere else, know i’m not trying to pass someone else’s idea off as my own, it just so happens that i have come to a certain conclusion that another person has, without me even seeing their posts. two people can have the same ideas without ever having any sort of interaction or seeing their posts alright alright glad we got that sorted)

fandom headcanons that r great and i fully endorse 

thomas is gay. he absolutely adores miranda and they share a sex life (whether that be through group sex, mutual masturbation, or straight up one on one sexual activity) but he is a homosexual man

thomas is a top. this one the fandom seems to be agreed on. bottom thomas?? i dont know her

he doesnt like wearing his wig much it is itchy 

my own headcanons

during elections he cast his votes for the Whigs rather than the Tories and should he have ever stood for office in the lower house would have done so as a Whig (the less right-wing of the two political parties during this period of British history) but believed party politics were dangerous and detrimental to the greater good of the country. He saw the dangers of the laizze-faire attitude the Whigs had and their sometimes aggressive anti-Catholicism disturbed him although sometimes the way he has been raised means he lets anti-Catholicism come into his line of thinking (as seen when things get heated with him and pops). That being said, he was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a royalist and had Tory tenancies (I think it’s safe to assume there was little love in Alfred Hamilton for liberalism, and I’m sure Thomas was raised a Tory) in that regard. Thomas was born very close to the time of the Glorious Revolution and with his family being an old aristocratic one, conservatism, in one form or another, would have been in his very bones.

tl;dr ^^ he’s a liberal who dislikes party politics and subscribes to ideologies from both sides of parliament 

he’s a genuine believer in God and in Christ. He knows his scripture (he must be quoting the bible more than hes saying his own original thoughts in the show probably gfgdgfd) and Christ is important to him. He bases his life around Christ’s teachings - that’s why he’s so kind and so concerned with forgiveness and redemption and hope. He rejects the violence and hatred found in other parts of the Bible and has a great love for the gospels instead and finds his strength in Christ’s words about love and kindness and charity and forgiveness. He believes that to be a good Christian one must above all else be kind. He also highly values the lesson of the Good Samaritan (surprise surprise said no one ever) and reminds himself daily to never judge someone else for the life choices and decisions. 

his mother was just as bad as his father. I’ve seen people suggest that thomas’ mother must have been an angel to balance out the devil of alfred for thomas to have turned out so good and im calling bullshit. someone with two mean-spirited and cruel parents can absolutely be wonderful people, and in thomas’ case i believe it was the distance of his parents and their disdain and judgement of the world and unkindness that made thomas quite the opposite. he saw the mistakes they were making and learned from them. 

we know he went to eton. he deffo started kissing boys at the age of 13 or 14. he’s been a heartbreaker since teenagehood. 

he’s around 30-35 when we see him in 1705 (less a headcanon and more a lazy estimation similar to ones hundreds of other people have made) 

he enjoys sex a lot. he’s had a number of sexual partners most of whom were of the same social standing as he and he’s been in love before he meets james. he’s never loved anyone like james though. he believes james is his soulmate

he is caught between thoroughly enjoying high society life with all of its frills - the fashion, the music, the art, the luxurious houses and exuberant interiors - and feeling guilty about being so rich whilst others have so little in comparison. he’s not perfect, and so he lets himself enjoy the glamour of aristocratic europe without trying to give it too much thought. 

it’s canon he’s a Big Thinker and was homies with other Big Thinkers (he probs fucked half of the enlightenment giants but thats for anotehr time) and I Think he’d spend a lot of time Thinking about Big Things you know like ??? would educating the masses be a good thing?? child labour, huh whats that all about is that worth it?? why are some people entitled to more simply because of who they were born as? and what even IS class? and other big questions politics and sociology and criminology and philosophy and economics and history students spend £9k a year thinking about lmao (tag urself im tragic politics student still cryin over the overlooked work engles did for yrs n yrs oh fred you was done so bad i lovE YOU) 

crazy horny boy have james wear a butt plug during dinners with alfred lmao oh tomhas you wild thing