#* we’re walking a tightrope : ⸢ people : mom ⸥ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nsheetee · 4 years ago

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Awaken

Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.

“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”

“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”

Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.

“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.

“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.

“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.

“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”

“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”

“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”

“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.

After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.

You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.

He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.

He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.

Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.

“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.

“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”

“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.

It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.

Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.

“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.

“You like it?”

“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.

“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.

In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.

You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.

“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.

The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.

His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.

“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.

“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.

“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.

“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”

It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.

“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.

“Why so many?” Chenle asks.

“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You collect your luggage and head upstairs.

Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.

His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.

“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.

“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.

“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.

“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.

“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.

“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.

“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”

“But you’re a guest—”

“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.

“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.

Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.

From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.

As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.

As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.

“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.

Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.

“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.

“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.

“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.

“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”

“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.

“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.

Could you get anymore perfect for him?

You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”

Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.

“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out

what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?

Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.

You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.

Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.

His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.

Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.

He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?

‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.

Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.

His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.

But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.

Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.

He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.

Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.

Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.

Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.

He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.

You’re right there.

Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?

“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.

“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.

“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.

Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.

He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.

You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”

Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.

It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.

“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.

When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.

He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.

You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.

“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.

“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.

“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”

“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.

Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.

You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.

“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.

Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.

When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.

When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.

Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.

“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.

You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.

“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.

Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.

He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.

“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.

“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.

Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.

Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.

“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.

“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.

“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.

“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.

“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”

“What? What does that mean—”

“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

Note

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

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moribundanchor · 4 years ago

Text

The Pelle/Dani Receipts, Post 11: The May Queen

The last lap of the film is the culmination of two separate tracks: one, Dani breaking with Christian, coming to terms with her grief, and sloughing off her old life, and two, Dani being embraced by her new family and, with that final, slightly-mad smile, finding joy with them. Much as in the “Do you feel held by him?” scene, Ari masterfully keeps the final scenes of Midsommar walking that tightrope between validating the Pelle/Dani romance and minimizing it in order to center Dani’s broader character arc and story, and to that end, he doesn’t even wobble. Still, he can’t get out of this without some explicit (though not explicit) mushy stuff for the OTP, and that, of course, is why we’re here.

We already mentioned the dance competition in the context of Pelle and Team Hårga winnowing Christian real good so he can be Maja’s baby daddy, but this is yet another opportunity for Pelle to demonstrate to Dani the contrast between him and Christian. As Dani begins to dance, Pelle is right up front, attentively, patiently, smilingly watching. She has every bit of his attention and support. Meanwhile, Christian stumbles into the audience late, burdened and internally roiling after his meeting with Siv.

Now, we don’t know how Christian ultimately answered the Matriarch when she asked if he would mate with Maja. Ari, the imp, cuts away. Not to taint our favorite scene with comparison, but very like Dani’s protests in “Do you feel held by him?” Christian’s evasions, more pronounced in the Director’s Cut (“I’m here with somebody,” “We haven’t even talked.”) are frail, toothless things against the truth joined with temptation. He doesn’t love Dani. And he does want Maja. By the time he comes to watch the dance competition, Dani dancing is the furthest thing from Christian’s mind, even though betraying her is the crux of his dilemma.

And do please remember that Siv proposes this ritual snuggling to Christian as something Dani will not know about, so he really is contemplating betraying her, as opposed to what Pelle suggests to Dani.

This is the contrast that waits for Dani during a break in the dance. Pelle smiles at her flirtatiously, even proudly, and silently applauds--totally here for you, Dani--while Christian is literally looking the other direction, back towards where Maja--oops, I got myself eliminated, teehee!--has taken her seat. During the dance, Dani is, yes, tripping balls and speaking gibberish, but she is still having the best time ever. So, initially exhilarated, Dani wilts the moment she sees Christian, and if we were going to argue that Dani doesn’t reciprocate Pelle’s feelings, the visible heartbreak on her face here would be Exhibit A. Except people are more complicated than that. Relationships are more complicated than that. Dani is definitely more complicated than that. Letting go still can hurt long after you know it’s over.

All that being said, even the most complicated relationship stuff can get simple real quick with a grand, unambiguously romantic gesture, and as Dani is crowned May Queen, finally, finally, finally, we get one. No evasions, no apophasis. Stunned, still kind of high, Dani’s new family washes her away in a tide of congratulations. Odd welcomes her home again, in Swedish this time, and it’s just a lovebomb lovefest all the way down. The only ones who don’t hug and/or paw at Dani are hallucinations (or are they) of her parents in Hårgan garb, her mom laying one surrendering caress on Dani’s shoulder as she passes by, and, of course, Christian, poor dope, standing by the maypole, looking every bit as alone and lost as Dani probably has felt up to this point. The Fire Temple is a ways off, but he will never again be allowed close to her. They are over.

At the end of the procession, for maximum dramatic effect, Dani’s happy Hårgan sisters tilt her toward OHAI PELLE. As Pelle bends down to her, initially he appears to be in supportive friend mode, (“My God, Dani! May Queen!”), but then he just sweeps Dani up in a kiss that isn’t long enough to stop the ceremony, but just long enough to be undeniably romantic. In the script, the kiss is actually described as a “blunt, passionate kiss.” While so much of the Pelle/Dani ship is not scripted, here it is plain: Pelle, now wearing the Wunjo rune, is Dani’s wish for an understanding, loving partner come true, and for the minute she can be spared from the procession, he is kissing her for all he’s worth. Let’s just watch this on a loop for a while.

This is the moment that has launched several thousand “Did Pelle like Dani?” Google searches, and it looks like a freaking wedding because it kind of is. Look at all the Hårgans bursting with happiness, not just for Dani, but for them. We are all Hårgans because all Hårgans are clearly Pelle/Dani shippers. (Okay, there’s something going on with Inga, but that’s a different analysis post.) Dagny in particular looks like she’s going to cry. My sweet brother birthmate found him a newblood and they are the cutest. Both Pelle and Dani are in full Hårgan dress for this kiss, as though their relationship always had to be consummated with Dani fully planted in the fifth panel of the spoiler tapestry. Also note that the pink flower in Dani’s crown reflects her heartbeat. Notice how it speeds right on up while she’s in Pelle’s arms. At this point, Dani might yet equivocate--not that she’s very equivocal in the moment--but crown flowers don’t lie.

Christian probably doesn’t see this moment. In addition to succumbing to “the tea with special properties,” he’s watching from the maypole, and Dani and Pelle would have been obscured from that vantage by a few dozen white-clad bodies. But if he cared enough about Dani to celebrate her triumph instead of blankly witness it, if he had been able to refuse the tea...but then, if he cared that much, we wouldn’t have had a movie.

Once Pelle surrenders Dani, the happiest and proudest of all possible soft cult boys, she’s urged toward a litter in the shape of the sun and lifted high off the ground. The Hårgans serenade their queen in a procession to the dinner table, Pelle prominent among them, his hands arranged in a cradling gesture previously seen when the Hårgans burned Dan’s body. This is an assumption, but it seems a fair one, that the gesture conveys Pelle bearing Dani’s spirit, even if he’s not one of those physically carrying her litter. In the wide shot, you will notice they are sailing Dani right past an image of Terri hidden in the trees. In this scene, Dani is very literally leaving her birth family and Christian behind. When Dani takes her throne at the head of the mirrored banquet table, Pelle will placidly sketch the moment, and as previously mentioned, we’ll see him reflected in the table surface, indicating how he’s still plotting even in that idyllic moment which would seem to be the culmination of all his hopes and dreams. After all, Christian’s still breathing.

Sadly, this concludes the dramatized Dani/Pelle content. We know. We’re sad, too. In the major scenes around the kiss itself--the serenade, the photograph, the dinner after her crowning--Pelle is near Dani, but not next to Dani. No more close communicating reaction shots. We can see Pelle enthusiastically toast Dani at the dinner table, and she seems to trade a sly, flirty smile with him immediately afterward, but that’s it. We can’t even see Pelle’s reaction when Dani gags on the pickled herring. In the final ceremony, Pelle’s crowned, too, just as the movie has been promising all along, but he and Dani don’t share the stage or even a single shot. Blocking and camerawork, so suggestive of their love story up to the point Pelle lays a good ‘un on her, suddenly becomes a blue-nosed chaperone. But consider what the film would be like, what it would have to become, otherwise. Midsommar isn’t primarily a romance anymore than it’s primarily a horror movie. Nope, it’s not a horror movie either, not really. It’s Dani’s story; it just happens to have smooches and blood eagles in it. So the kiss is a great moment, but it’s going to have to last you. (Hey, would you like to see our fanfics?)

Green Man/May King or not, it would appear there’s more post-canon wooing for Mr. Pelle to do (though Ari has confirmed more than once that Pelle has an excellent chance with Dani, wink.) The script specifies that Pelle is one of the Hårgans that bears Dani’s throne to scoop her up after she stumbles in her May Queen raiment before the film’s final shot, but like so much Dani/Pelle content in the script, that doesn’t actually end up on film. The last we see of Pelle, he’s on his knees scream/crying as the Fire Temple burns, and the last we see of Dani...well, the last we see of Dani is the final, iconic shot of the film. Insane? Eh, maybe. She’s synced up with her new family and having her unholy affekts burned away. Probably should check back later for that one. Happy? Definitely. Ever after? Sure looks like. And why not? Girl got her wish.

Oh, but there’s one more topic we have not quite explored. The writing on the wall. And the ceilings and the tapestries and the clothes and the footwear and the decorative flourishes and the furniture and the tables and plinths and the...

For more, click on The Pelle/Dani Receipts Masterpost

#the pelle/dani receipts #pelle/dani #dani/pelle #pelle x dani #dani x pelle #pellani #midsommar

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

One Night🌙5

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Sorry there’s no Eye of the Storm for today. I’m currently going through physical and emotional hell but I hope you don’t mind some Andy Barber.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went to bed angry. You were always warned against it and you always learned your lessons the hard way. Hence, your current predicament and that stabbing just above your eye brow.

You got up slowly. You groaned and grumbled as you forced yourself to your feet. It was early and you had a shift at the diner. You never thought you'd be eager to be in your greasy apron but it was better than the alternative.

The night before, you'd spent a few minutes looking around the bedroom. There was an attached bathroom and you were thankful for that as you'd awoke once to relieve yourself before stumbling back to bed.

You pushed through the half-open door and pulled your night shirt over your head. You stretched and reached to start the shower. There was a hand towel hanging from the ring above the sink but nothing else. You went to the closet but upon opening the door, you were surprised to find another bedroom on the other side.

You swore and slammed the door before Andy could look up from his tie. You searched the handle for a lock and clicked it into place. God damn it! What kind of house was set up like that?

You heard his bedroom door in the hall and he knocked on your own. You scrambled to pick up your night gown and pull it back on as the hinges whispered and he appeared at the bathroom door. He looked confused as he crossed his arms.

"What was all that about?" He asked.

"I needed a towel," You huffed. "And I thought it was... a closet."

"Ah, linen closet's right next to my room." He explained. "I never really liked the layout but Laurie... I'll get you a towel."

You nodded and he left you. He returned with a dark blue towel and offered it to you. You took it and he reluctantly let it go. His gaze never left you; sombre and serious.

"Did you decide?" He asked.

"I'll tell Saul today," You said. "Is that acceptable?"

He sighed and sniffed.

"Call me." He said. "Doesn't matter when, I'll pick up. You let me know when your next appointment is."

"Okay," You resigned. "So, can I shower or...?"

"I gotta head out," He tucked his hand in his pants pocket. "I'll leave your breakfast on the counter."

"I can take care of myself." You insisted.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," He gave a sarcastic smirk. "What time are you done?"

"Seven," You answered dully. "I'll be home before curfew, dad."

He rolled his eyes and backed away.

"Well, won't be long till I am," He countered. "Isn't that right, mommy?"

He left you, the door closing with a snap. You listened as he went back to his own room and left shortly after, his footsteps fading down the stairs.

You set the towel down on the toilet lid and felt the warmth of the shower’s spray with your fingertips. You'd thought living with your mom was hard. Now you almost missed it.

🌙

You felt like you had a secret victory. While you'd given up the job that had seen you through the last decade, your job at the cafe was starting to look more promising. Many of your co-workers were college students and handed off shifts quite often.

By the time you left the diner, dispirited as you were after the last few days' events, you had picked up two half-shifts for the next week. Another and you'd have more than thirty hours away from Andy and his suburban prison.

It was short-won as you found a bitterly familiar car waiting by the curb as you walked out of work. Andy sat in the front seat, his hand leaned against the steering wheel as he squinted at the glowing screen of his phone. You were tempted to ignore him and catch the bus instead but you didn't want another night of arguing. You just wanted to be home. You could hide in the guest room and try to forget. Well, as much as you could.

You knocked on the window and he looked over. He gave you his usual disapproving look and unlocked the doors with the flip of a switch. He tucked his phone away and turned the engine as you climbed in.

"I messaged." He said as he peered out into traffic. "Why didn't you answer?"

"I haven't checked my phone," You frowned. "Sorry."

"I told you to call me." He pulled out and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the wheel. "You make your appointment?"

"Monday," You muttered. Only three days away. "Ten thirty."

"I can make it work," He said. "You wanna grab some dinner? It's a bit late to cook."

"You gonna spoon feed again?" You challenged.

"Only if you make me," He said. "I want a copy of your schedule. Every week. I need to know when you're working and not."

"You're not serious?" You scoffed.

"I think I have a right to know. And look, we're having a kid and we should learn to get along before it gets here." He glanced at you in the rearview. "It wasn't so hard that night in the bar."

"Andy, forget that night," You breathed.

"I can't." His voice was low, dusky. "Even if... if I hadn't run into you again, I'd still be thinking about it."

"Don't do this," You begged.

"I love-- Loved my wife," He continued. "But it was never like that. Never that--"

"Stop," You interrupted. "Andy, I get it, well, I can't really understand what you're going through but you're grieving your family. It's confusing, scary, but you can't expect me to fill that hole. It was a one night stand. As far as I know those are suppose to end the morning after, at latest."

He was silent as he pulled into the drive through of a local burger joint. You'd been to the place once, they had great potato wedges but charged a bit much for limited portions. He stopped at the speaker and turned to you.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"Chicken burger, extra mayo, side of wedges," You craned to read the menu around him. "And an iced tea?"

"That's a lot of sugar. You should have a water for now and I have some stuff at home."

"Why did you even-- fine," You relented. "Water is fine."

Andy ordered and idled between the windows as he waited for the food. When it was his turn at last, he drew up and paid. He took the paper bag and the tray of drinks and handed it to you. He tipped, well, and thanked the server before pulling away.

"You don't understand. You're right." He said stiffly. "You can't but you can at least try. A baby... do you know what that means to me? Especially now, after everything. I never really put much faith in God but it feels like... a sign."

You lowered your head and shifted the paper bag on your leg as its warmth seeped through your pants. You felt bad. You were so concerned with what you were going to do, you hadn't really thought about him or his feelings. Sure, he was bossy, angry, but could you blame him? After a tragedy so uncontrollable how could you not be desperate for an ounce of control?

"Thank you," You said quietly. "For buying me dinner. For... letting me stay with you."

"You don't have to thank me for that. Decent people do those things." He stared at the road grimly. "I'm... sorry I've been so angry."

"It's alright. I haven't really been easy to deal with." You chuckled darkly. "I'd blame the hormones but I think it's just me."

"No, it's not," He turned down his street. "I'll be home late tomorrow night. There's lots of food in the fridge. You working?"

"Closing." You answered. "I'll be late too."

He nodded as he pulled into his driveway.

"Alright," He killed the engine. "I still want that schedule. It'll make things a lot easier."

You wanted to slap yourself. He came around as you managed to open your door and took the bag from you as he left you the tray of drinks. You followed him to the door, shaking your head at your own idiocy. He might be decent but it didn't make him any less overbearing.

🌙

Your days continued on a tightrope. You did your best to balance between Andy's irritability and your own misery. He might have apologized but there was something about the man that just kept you on edge.

And it was difficult to adjust to living with a man that was barely more than a strangers. To live in the shell of his former life. Even when you were alone, you stayed in the guest room, kept to yourself. It felt wrong to be there.

When Monday came, you woke to ready for your appointment. You dressed and went downstairs to find Andy awake and put together as always. The smell of his coffee made your mouth water.

"Any left in the pot?" You asked.

He shook his head as he blew the steam away from the rim.

"You can't have coffee. Too much caffeine." He said. "I'll buy you some decaf if you want. There's a gourmet place in the market."

"Don't worry about it," You grumbled. "I'll just have some orange juice."

"And some fruit, toast, yogurt..." He began as he set his mug down. "You should start writing down your meals. Keep track. You don't want to undereat." He opened the fridge and pulled out a basket of blueberries and a tub of yogurt. "We should also look into some supplements for you. Iron, probably."

He grabbed a bowl and measured out the yogurt and then rinsed some berries to go on top. He slid the bowl across the island and put everything back in the fridge. He grabbed the loaf from the breadbox and shoved two slices in the toaster.

"They should be able to let us know what after today," He continued. "I was reading up. They're gonna take some blood, probably some urine, and you might even have an ultrasound."

"Reading?" You narrowed your eyes. "Did you do all this with... before?"

He pressed his lips together and cracked his neck.

"I was younger then. Naive," He said. "Nine months is a long time. A lot can go wrong."

You were quiet. You scooped yogurt into your mouth and tried not to scowl. You didn't need to walk into the doctor's in a mood. The whole thing was stressful enough.

He finished making your toast and offered you peanut butter. You took butter and accepted the dry dark rye. He tapped his fingers on the counter and reached for a book on the end. He slid it over and flipped it open just as you read the title; 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'. You wanted to laugh. You chewed instead.

"That's your research?" You asked.

"You should read it," He said without looking up, crossing his arms atop the counter as he bent over it. "You'd learn a lot."

"Oh yeah?" You swallowed. "I'll see if I can fit it on my reading list."

"Huh," He looked up at last. "I saw that you had quite a few hours next week. Thirty-three."

"You said I couldn't work two jobs," You shrugged. "So I have one."

"I thought we were getting somewhere," He stood straight. "I really did."

"What else am I supposed to do? I can't just sit around and wait for the baby."

"You can," He snapped and rubbed his beard, feeling the bristle of his beard. "Jesus, I just-- I'm trying to do what's right."

"For you? Me? The baby?" You wondered.

"For us," He said pointedly.

"Us?" You echoed and set down the last crust. "What do you think is going to happen when the baby is here?"

His brows crinkled and took a breath.

"Well, I hope to have the nursery set up by then. Some clothes ready. No surprises, we'll need to know the sex so that we're ready." He slowly smiled as he spoke. "And maybe a pump for you, just in case. And I can take some days off to help out. It can be exhausting--"

"Andy!" You spat. "Andy, do you think-- do you think I'm going to stay here... forever?"

"You gonna pop this thing out and just go?" He asked.

"I never said I'd stay. Why would I--?"

"Because we're gonna be parents. Together." He hissed. "Because I won't have my child bouncing back and forth like volleyball."

"I'm not doing that." You said. "No, I'm not--" You stood and rounded the counter. "I'll find my own way to the appointment. There's no reason you need to be there."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa" He stepped in front of you and blocked you. "I wasn't asking."

"You can't make me--"

"I can do whatever I want," His voice grew deeper as he backed you against the island. "I can tell the police you abandoned your child. I can sue you for support. I can have you arrested for neglect."

"Prove it," You snarled.

"Won't be hard. I got buddies in the PD. I don't even have to plant the evidence," He smirked. "I just gotta give them the go ahead."

"No," You tried to push past him and he grabbed your sides, pushing you back against the counter.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart," He leaned in to whispered in your ear. "You're gonna do a lot of things you think you don't wanna do."

His hand slipped to your hip and you caught his wrist, grasping his chunky watched. He stood straight and looked down at you nonchalantly.

"You're right," He wrenched his arm away and looked at his watch. "We're gonna be late."

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #fic #series #one night #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

Note

elmo! hi! I saw your post about how you want to learn proper anatomy and re-do your artstyle. I'm fairly new to digital art, but I'm determined to get the learning process right (is there even a right way to do it?). Just wanted to ask how you're approaching your practice. Are you doing anything new? How do you advise I go about practicing art? Best of luck to you!

man you guys gotta stop giving me excuses to talk about my process before i’ve even figured out What the process is exactly (in the background, a herd of cows is being beamed directly out of the earth’s atmosphere) to answer your first and perhaps most important question, i don’t think there is a right way to learn anything. i am one of those motherfuckers who will walk circles around you and then stomp on the floor and declare that there is no objective truth and god is dead and so it follows that my current view of art is this: draw thing that make brain go brrrr.

with that in mind i really don’t know a fucking thing about the Art Process beyond ‘i open csp -> breakdown -> i close csp’ so i probably shouldn’t be dispensing advice and will be describing my current ‘process’ instead.

i started out with a duplicate of momentum december. 31 days in january, yeah? all right, then, 31 photo studies of people. 31 headshots, if you will. pick different angles every day, pick different kinds of faces, do something new. this was meant to address a huge root problem i have which is that i don’t know how to draw the outline of a human face. here is hatsune miku to demonstrate. see those red arrows? these lines have been giving me grief for the past nineteen years.

and the thing is, i’ve spent my whole life drawing anime shit. i grew up on fruits basket and cardcaptor sakura and copied the shit out of my mom’s 90s shoujo manga tankobon covers, but i never actually sat down and thought about how, exactly, a person works. and because i don’t plan these posts we’re going to segway into a brief aside in which i lament the fact that drawing has always been a completely thoughtless process for me. thoughtless as in 1) i give no shits but also as in 2) i have never known a thing about art. i have never had any ambition. i have never had vision. i have never, in particular, tried to do anything, because i’ve always accepted that i’m a writer first and a clown second and an artist somewhere down the line. ‘i can’t draw backgrounds’. ‘i can’t draw cute people’. ‘i can’t draw.’

so these are like, mindset issues, right, but i also have a bunch of habits stuck in my muscle memory that are baseless and completely pointless because that’s what happens when you try to move forward with no direction in life.

so here’s what i’ve been up to. i’ve always started drawing faces with the eyes, nose, mouth, then shape of the head. right now i’m starting with the line of the brow and then the nose, the outline of the face, the eyes, the mouth. up until now, my guidelines have been stick figures. right now, i’m trying to use spheres, cubes, polygon (DOT COM VIDEO PRODUCER)(GOOD LUCK BDG). and the biggest thing of all, unsurprisingly, is photo studies (pensive homo dab).

i started out with, you know, photo studies of heads. like just. the head. the nose mouth eyes ears etc because i just wanted to draw cute faces but it occurred to me as i began to change how i look at the world as a whole that i suck at everything LOL so i’ve been troubleshooting my understanding of the human being, bit by bit. when i realized i couldn’t draw foreheads properly i did studies of bald people. when i realized i couldn’t compute the shoulder i did studies of torsos. i just finished a round of lip studies because god the mouth has always confused the living FUCK out of me, and now i think i’m ready to apply what i’ve taken away to some sketches of botw link (i have 300 sketches of botw link now and all of them look different).

from a mindset point of view, i’m changing the way i process photos. before this, i’d done referenced art and photo studies before, but i focused on a one for one likeness instead of capturing the motion, the flow, the proverbial dick energy of a photograph. now, i’m breaking things down into shapes. before i do a study i’ll go over the photograph with straight lines. here’s the nose. triangle. here’s the chin. flat line, short, slightly curved. here’s the cheekbone. square. rectangle. hexagon. i’m trying to process 3d space. here’s where the cheekbone turns away from the camera. here’s where the neck folds. here’s where the nose looks shorter, and the eyes look larger, and the brows disappear. it’s kind of interesting, honestly, because this was how i ended up settling into background studies too. i stopped thinking about it as ‘i am going to draw a mountain’ and started thinking about it as ‘i am going to render some shapes’. sometimes you need to think about the water and not the ocean.

but for all my dramatics, how much have i actually succeeded in changing? fuck if i know. i’m running around with my eyes squeezed shut on a tightrope strung up over the mouth of a volcano, but if there’s one thing i’m sure of, it’s that all of this. all of this is fun

SO i am going to have different thoughts in a few weeks’ time but here are my interim takeaways: learn from the world. the world is so fucking cool. it would be a pity not to do so. apply your learning. i do a photo study and then an applied sketch where i try to use what i just learned in a separate, slightly different sketch. but really, right, really really, ultimately, my biggest takeaway up until now, still running around naked on top of the volcano, is this: there’s nothing you can’t draw. there are only things you’re too afraid to draw

#asks #anon #this is so dramatic and i don't even have images to accompany my drama because #not supposed to post em and anyway they look hilariously bad #its like when youre going through puberty and all your photos look like shit #thats me rn #but yeah anyway im fresh off of lip studies so time to do something with that #did you know lips are 3d? i didn't #anon please feel free to disagree with all of this #also there are a lot of resources online so go look them up BUT DONT BE CONTENT JUST SAVING TUTORIALS #USE THEM #APPLY THE KNOWLEDGE #i saved tutorials fr years and what did it do for me? nothing because i was a clown who never tried to draw anything remotely related to em #ok i run now #before anyone calls me out this was NOT proofread or edited so if it sounds cheesy there im a cheesy fuck so help me #bye #Anonymous

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noordledoordle · 5 years ago

Photo

“There are fundamental things about ourselves that we know to be true. It's important to remember those things when you find yourself in a tough situation, or you need to make a decision from the heart, but it's equally important to know that you can surprise yourself, too...”

Novel-sized post under the cut:

I don’t say much on my art posts or on Tumblr in general, but as we’re in the home stretch before SU leaves forever, I thought I’d leave a bit of commentary for the five people who may happen across this.

I started watching the original series a couple weeks after Friend Ship aired in 2015, mostly because I love MST3K’s Joel Hodgson and heard he was playing Mayor Dewey. I know it’s a common refrain that you have to sort of “endure” SU up to Mirror Gem, but that was not the case for me. The kookiness, the gentle nature of the characters, the overarching mystery of the setting - SU had me hooked right off the bat.

I loved all the characters (and I still love all the characters! Even if Ronaldo is best left as a background role and Resident Plot Oracle), but I was especially fascinated by Steven. Outwardly, he was as laid-back as his dad, and seemingly took a lot of stuff in stride, even his odd living situation. And every time a Big Reveal happened that re-contextualized the episodes prior, he would react a little bit in the moment, but never too much. Like clockwork, this pattern kept repeating itself. He would continually focus outward on the immediate problem or person in front of him, and get deeply emotional for their issues instead of his own. He’d also get emotional for surface-issue things, like Cookie Cats and snakes.

I found that odd. And intriguing. At first I figured it was just a narrative device since he was the MC and my window into the world of SU, but it happened so often that I finally got suspicious. What was it going to take for this kid to really express himself? He was so good at getting others to open up, why couldn’t he do it, too? Yes, he had times and even a couple episodes where he’d tip his hand for a bit and show something deeper, but they were oh-so-fleeting.

As I started watching the remaining S2 and S3 episodes as they came out, this pattern kept up. The layers of the world and its characters slowly unwrapped, but Steven stubbornly kept to himself and was mostly content to point the audience away from him. (Not a bad thing, narratively, as the stuff with Peridot and the latter half of S3 were wild rides!) Back then, I felt pretty alone in giving a shit about him as a character when it seemed a lot of others didn’t, but, dammit, he was my favorite little mystery regardless and I just hoped his reticence was going somewhere, especially as the show’s stakes got higher and higher.

Sweet, sweet vindication came when Mindful Education aired. The second he started giving terrible advice to Connie, I knew we were finally due to for a good look into his brain. And then came the butterfly on the sword, and well, everything else. Yeah, he’d dropped enough breadcrumbs prior to Mindful Education implying he was proper fucked up about his identity, but this was a whole loaf of fresh French bread. It was now clear beyond any shadow of a doubt that Steven was bottling up the majority of his issues and probably had been from the start.

I mean, damn, the Pink Diamond reveal? Amethyst couldn’t drag more than a couple grumpy lines out of him over pizza, and like most things Rose related, was more about his feelings towards her than what that meant for him. When he flipped out at a hologram of his mom or cried for his dad, his family wasn’t present to hear his inner thoughts. Regardless, after CYM happened and he’d resolved his identity crisis, I was content enough that they’d acknowledged his constant deflection and almost tyrannical need to help others as character flaws and would have been fine with what we got as an ending. Still, there was a lot about Steven that had been left unsaid, and I was excited to see was S6 was gonna be about...

And then the movie and SUF came along, and I swear to God I don’t even know what to do with all this vindication. Rebecca Sugar may as well have beamed into my living room and screamed “LOOK HERE ARE 20 EPISODES OF CONTENT TAILOR-MADE JUST FOR YOU.” Finally, they’re really unwrapping the mystery of our main character. They’re tearing him apart right down to the core of tragic nougat at the center of his being.

So, anyway, here we are at the lowest point of Steven’s long story. He’s burned King’s Landing. He’s crossed the Rubicon. My son, my boy, has shut out everyone he loves and has an honest-to-goodness kill count, and it can’t be justified by saying he was backed into a corner or that he was fighting to protect someone. He didn’t mean to shatter Jasper, but it’s clear he meant to hurt her.

I was always adamant that he’d never shatter anyone, but now that he has, I get why.

Steven is all about that duality. He’s human and Gem, burdened with Special Magical Destiny yet supposedly free to choose his own human path. The closer he gets to discovering his future, the deeper he has to dig into the past. He’s a cute little critter who can quietly drool on himself while napping on a road trip and also an angry teenager frustrated over a life he never had. He’s trapped between reality and facade - all those healing Rose-style powers he worked so hard to get in the original series were a cover for something older, more ancient, more destructive. And, most pertinent to Fragments - he adores soft things like romance and weddings, yet also values tough things like strength and power.

And he’s having trouble walking the tightrope between all these contradictions. When it comes to power, for example, he loves gaining new powers in order to feel useful to his family, but, in fights where he isn’t pink, he’ll always stop just short of using them to their fullest and stay on the defensive as long as he can possibly get away with it. He’ll even apologize or warn his opponent if he tries to do something big. He’ll nearly always fall on the side of softness over power, but the power is still very much there, if unused. And even up to this last episode, he’d always stop just short of going full feral even when he was pink. Part of this is because Steven is a good kiddo at heart, but also afraid of what he can do to someone unchecked.

And now, here at a bad point in Steven’s life when he’s loaded up with PTSD and cut off from his usual support, Jasper (who is also...going through some things) gives him permission to indulge in the sort of thing he’s avoided since that day he summoned a shield with an ice cream bar. She tells him to not hide a part of himself, so for just this fucking once, he lets go. The ecstasy of battle overtakes him. He doesn’t tap into the soft, rounded Rose-style powerset for even a second. No bubbles, no shield, just that raw diamond geometry. And when he gets to the moment of the KO, there’s no stopping, no break to talk things out, no “yo watch out!” He even pins her down to make damn sure she can’t get away. It’s a surprising facet of Steven we have never seen, but it’s still absolutely him, just another one of those parts he squirrels away out of view. He didn’t need that “training” at all... it was always there.

When he told Jasper he’d been holding back, he meant it. He’s been holding back for years, in so many ways.

#steven universe #steven universe future #my art #steven universe spoilers #steven quartz universe

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papipopsicle · 4 years ago

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AFTERTASTE PART FIVE

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Candy by Doja Cat

Warnings: swearing, minors consuming alcohol

Words: 3.6K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/N lasted two weeks before thoughts of even throwing the bet came to mind. She had been strong so far; making sure to wear her tightest outfits and highest heels, being extra touchy-feely with Archie and not reacting to his moves in the slightest. Her personal favourite moment was sitting on his lap at the Twilight Drive-In and giving him a hard-on whilst Kevin and Betty sat next to them non the wiser.

But now, on day eighteen, she needed reinforcements. The redhead realised his attempts were failing miserably and he couldn't help his reactions to Y/N’s provocative movements. He turned it up a notch, becoming rather possessive of the five foot blonde knowing she enjoyed that side of him. He carefully walked the line of teasing and taunting like a tightrope, always whispering in her ear and letting his hand rest on her inner thigh under the table. And now, Y/N found herself wanting to pounce him whenever he caught her eye. It was getting out of hand, so she called for the only two people who could possibly help.

"Have you tried doing the bend and snap?" Cherry asked out of the blue, her head rested on her girlfriends lap as the three watched Clueless from the comfort of Felicity's bed.

"Babe," the blue haired girl said with a sigh and took a handful of M&Ms, "I love you but I don't think our answer lies in a two-thousand's rom-com."

"Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?" The brunette grinned smugly and leaned up to kiss the girl above her, earning a handful of chocolate to be launched in their direction and a disgruntled groan from the blonde sitting beside them.

Y/N pouted, "Please stop reminding me how single I am."

At this, the two girls pulled away and sent her the same bewildered look, "You wouldn't be if you told that hunky ginger you're in love with him!" Flick barked, a hand playing with the hem of her partner's shirt whilst the other flew up in desperation.

The y/h/c girl sent her friends an incredulous glare, it only growing when their shared 'you know I'm right' smile made an appearance. She took a handful of sweets and irritably shoved them in her mouth, "I am not in love with Archie Andrews... I just want his body on my body... in a variety of ways, and locations... multiple times."

"Right, so let me just get this straight," Cherry sat upright and gathered her hair over one shoulder, she paused the film and sent the petite girl a serious look, "you really think a no-strings-attached relationship can actually work? Have you even seen Friends With Benefits? It doesn't work! Sure it's all fun and games now but it's only a matter of time before one of you catches feelings and shit gets real. Then we'll have to pick sides, obviously you automatically get us, but I really liked Archie, he was promising..."

"What my gorgeous girlfriend means, is that we won't have this relationship ruined because you two can't keep it in your pants. We've put a lot of work and effort into this ship and it isn't going to waste, this isn't some TV teen drama shit, there's no need to wait until season 6 to actually be happy. Don't be Lydia and Stiles." Flick rounded up, taking the remote and pressing play.

Y/N simply sighed and slouched against the pillows, her attention turning back to the TV as she sulked, "I came here for your advice, and honestly now it feels like my moms are telling me I can't have sex with my hot best friend because they ship us too hard romantically. How can sex ruin a friendship? That's like saying extra sprinkles ruin ice cream! Anyways, none of that matters unless I win this stupid bet."

"You know Y/N/N, asking a lesbian and a bisexual whose only ever been with a girl on how to seduce a boy isn't exactly your best move." Cherry commented, snuggling under her blanket with a near-empty bowl of mini-pretzels at her side.

"My advice? Just be yourself, dumbass. Clearly for some weird reason he's into that, so it's only a matter of time until he gives in and this insanity will end. Boys think with their dicks and have a lot less will-power than us. For fucks sake, he's sprung when your name's mentioned in passing conversation, clearly he wants to bone your brains out. Wait it out, you're one stubborn chick when you want to be, you got this."

Two days later, on one rather fateful Friday night, Y/N found herself in the midst of a party thrown by none other than the Blossom twins. It had been a while since she'd spoken to either of them, but since their entire year was currently making out on the couches, the invitation wasn't all that strange. She and Betty had spent the evening getting ready whilst rocking out to the cheesiest music known to their generation. The smaller blonde wore a little red number with lace cutouts, and only managed to convince her taller friend to ditch the mom-jeans for a conservative royal blue knee-length dress. Baby steps, she told herself whilst trying her best not to cut a deeper neckline in the mass of material.

Betty Cooper had absolutely no idea what was going on between two of her three best friends; and although she'd always been silently jealous of their closeness, she was used to it and didn't think twice to question it. Y/N spritzed her neck and wrists with her favourite perfume, Daisy Dream, and gave herself a final once over in the large mirror beside her wardrobe.

With perfect timing, like some magical intuition, Y/N’s phone buzzed, notifying her their ride was outside. She grinned at the taller girl and slipped her black Louis Vuitton's on, "Ready, m'lady?"

"I-I don't know, Y/N/N." Betty panicked, wringing her hands together as a worrisome look etched onto her face, "What if my mom sees us leave? She'll kill me if she finds out we're going to a Blossom party."

"She won't. And even if she does, she'll only see us getting into a car with Cherry and Flick, just tell her they invited us over for a girl's night or something... Stop worrying about the future, and start living in the now! You look smokin', I look hot, we are not wasting my precious work on Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore again, capisce?" Y/N didn't allow even a millisecond to pass before dragging the taller girl downstairs with her where they met Polly and Ren.

The four took a few quick photos together and hightailed it out to the red convertible sitting on the edge of the drive. Polly switched places with Flick and the happy couple sat in the back on each other's lap, leaving Y/N and Betty sat beside them like two spare wheels.

When the group of girls arrived, Cheryl graciously directed them down to the basement. Thoughts of being led down to a torture chamber came to mind as the redhead opened a large squeaky door, but those died down when the smell of liquor and sound of house music hit them like a brick wall.

So now, an hour into the night, it was just Betty and Y/N standing at the side of the room with a red solo cup in hand. Polly ran off to find her beloved boyfriend as soon as she arrived and Y/S/N just so happened to find herself hitting on a nearby houseplant. 'Flicky' were playing beer pong, well cider for them, against Reggie and Moose, and were winning with only one cup standing.

The petite girl, who still stood below her friend even in four inch heels, was about to save her sister from some terrible mugshots, but a strong arm stopped her in her tracks and pulled her back into a muscly chest.

"Where'd you think you're going, gorgeous?" A deep voice breathed in her ear, and a second later she ripped herself away from the boy, instantly recognising him and wishing to be the other side of the building right now. Though her actions were quick, the brunette pinned her to the nearest wall and stared hazily into her wide chartreuse-coloured eyes. Y/N actually laughed at the irony of the location, finding it funny that the last time she was in this position it was rather enjoyable.

"Fuck off, Chuck." The girl took another sip of her drink, not bothering to pay the boy any attention because that's exactly what he wanted. Though, when his arms moved from the wall to around her waist and neck, forcing Y/N to look up at him, she felt like punching the stupid smile off his smug face. But with one hand stuck at her side and the other holding her drink, she simply settled for chucking her remaining vodka-lemonade at the boy.

He chuckled cynically and wiped his face down, eyes darkening as he pushed himself against her with even more force, "Now, now. That's no way to treat the best fuck you've ever had. Why don't we go find somewhere quiet, for old times sake." He commanded, his tone leaving no room for questioning or any form of verbal consent.

But Y/N scoffed and chucked her now empty cup at his face, "Do you really want to be known for rape, as well as leaking a fifteen year old's sex tape, that you were a part of let's not forget?"

He sighed and brought a hand up to cup her face, coarse fingers gripping her jaw achingly tight, "Y/N/N, aren't we past that? I was mad and you embarrassed me in front of the entire football team, what did you expect me to do? Can't we just forget about that?" His other arm aggressively tugged her closer, "C'mon, you know you want me, slut."

Y/N had her eyebrows raised intolerably the entire time he spoke, and when she realised this had no affect on him, she cocked her head ever so slightly. That word felt so good coming from Archie's lips weeks ago. But with Chuck's intoxicated breath panting down on her made up face, she felt completely and utterly violated, physically and mentally.

She hid the look of disgust as best as possible and simply let her best fake alluring smile grace her features; Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and looked ever so sweetly into his darkened eyes, "Clayton, we were together for what, eight months? And somehow, in that entire time, you never made me orgasm, not even close. I feel sorry for any girl, or whoever else who has to put up with your shitty oral. Don't you ever, ever use that word against me or any other girl. Don't touch me, you do not and shall never have consent to touch my body, remember that." She smoothly spoke, her voice laced with sugar-coated venom.

Using his drunken and shocked state to her advantage, Y/N unhooked his arms and rushed off to find one particular individual. She fought through the endless crowd of teenagers and after ten minutes of searching, Archie was nowhere to be found. A light tapping on one shoulder caused the y/h/c girl to spin on her heels, ready to slap a bitch if it were another jock.

But thankfully it wasn't, and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when her eyes found Betty's figure. She took her taller friend by the arms and asked, "Have you seen Archie at all? There's three fucking gingers at this party and I can only spot two."

"Last time I saw him he was in line for the bathroom, and that was around five minutes ago." The taller blonde said, peering down at her friend in concern as a hand smoothed down her signature ponytail instinctively, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Betty's question almost flew right past her as she searched for the toilet queue, but thankfully she managed to make out a few words, and quickly put two and two together. Y/N shook her head and finally looked at her friend, "It's alright, but one of us is about to lose a bet, I'll tell you who once I find out."

Betty's expression contorted at that, and she began to feel an uneasiness settling in the pit of her stomach. The Cooper girl did her best to hide her jealousy along with her crush on Archie. She'd always viewed Y/N as the unwanted cog in the machine, but as the months went on she couldn't help but feel like a spare part.

With that, the petite girl marched off and soon found herself pushing through throngs of her drunken classmates until a head of fiery-red hair poked up above the crowd. He was joking and laughing with Reggie, both wearing giddy smiles whilst sipping from from their cups every so often.

Y/N was used to being easily knocked, because she was so tiny in relation to the 6 foot something masses of muscle she called her friends, so it came as no surprise when someone practically rammed her right into the middle of the boys' conversation. Luckily, being the gentleman he was, Archie's arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to steady her toppling body. Their chatting ceased and it took Reggie no less than a second to start talking to someone else, leaving the red-haired boy looking down in confusion at his best friend.

"You okay there, Tiger?" He asked, gingerly hooking a few strands of her y/h/c hair behind her ear, making Y/N crane her neck up to watch him intently for a moment. She bit down on her lower lip and let out an intoxicated little giggle, "My knight in shining armour, however will I repay you?"

Archie breathed out a deep chuckle and smirked, "I can think of a few ways..." he all but muttered. Y/N’s thoughts flickered back to just moments ago in the lull of silence, and that was all the boy needed to lead her out of the packed basement. He saw the look confliction in her eyes, not quite understanding it, "has something else happened, Y/N/N?"

"Do you remember last spring, when I finally broke it off with Chuck... and then he, you know?" She tried to clarify, but her words wavered and fell short.

"Released a video of you two without your consent and only got suspended for a week?" Archie almost growled his voice felt so heavy. He hated remembering their relationship. Not only because he wanted Y/N to be only his, but because he was forced to see his best friend humiliated and heartbroken all at the same time and couldn't stop it.

"That's the one." The girl looked down, unable to meet his eyes as her mind raced back to one of the darkest weeks of her life. But she pulled herself away from the horrible memories, "Look, it happened and I can't change that, but I really don't want to be around him right now."

"We'll go back to mine right now, Tiger." Archie affirmed with his hand now cupping her made up face, bringing her gaze back to his own.

"Woah, didn't realise you two were a thing." A slurring Reggie turned back around and winked at the pair with his usual cheeky smile, "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Y/N giggled and hiccuped at the same time, "Fuck off, Reg."

"Hey, if you hurt her, Andrews, I'll knock you into next year." The Asian boy only partly joked with his best friend.

The Robins girl pulled herself away from the wall and wrapped her arms around Reggie, "My hero!"

"Yeah, yeah." He hugged her back, not too hard though as in his drunken state he was scared he might snap her in half with all his muscular might. "I love you too, Y/N/N."

She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before returning to Archie's side, clasping his hand in her own and leading the both of them away from the raucous party. Nobody seemed to notice in their happy little haze, even if they did, most people assumed the two were sleeping together anyway.

"Does it bother you at all?" Y/N small voice called as they walked down the narrow roads back home. She didn't know whether the answer would be something she wanted to hear, but it had been bothering her for the past minute or so.

Archie's brows furrowed, slightly more sober and completely not understanding his companion's train of thought, "Does what bother me?"

"That people assume so much about us? That we're sleeping together? That we're a couple?" She pondered.

"Not unless it's something that puts you in a negative light, otherwise I really couldn't care less about other people's opinions. Everyone has them, but the only ones that matter to me are my friends and my family's." Archie reassured her.

Y/N giggled at her own joke, "I thought you were going to say they're like assholes?"

The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Everybody has one." She grinned and wrapped her arm around his waist as his own found its way to her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. The rest of the walk was silent after that, cool summers air bringing an ease to Y/N's tipsy frame. Twenty minutes must have gone by before they saw the Andrews' household finally in view, it was anything but awkward though. Their hands clasped swinging between them, the girl's feet beginning to ache from the regrettable choice of five inch heels.

They shared giggles and passing comments that wouldn't make sense the next morning, gleeful smiles hanging from cheek to cheek. Before Archie had the chance to hunt for his key, the front door opened with Fred sending the two teenagers a short look of annoyance.

"Get in already." He rolled his tired eyes, not wanting to question why his son's best friend was currently looking up at him with hidden adoration as she slipped off her shoes.

Y/N hiccuped and sent the adult an apologetic smile, "Sorry if we woke you, Freddie."

"I couldn't sleep anyway, kid, don't worry about it." Fred gave her a kind smile and felt her small frame hug his own. He returned it as always and after a few moments, let the teenagers carry on upstairs. The girl immediately went into the bathroom and found her small bottle of cleanser under the sink, removing her heavy make up before returning to her best friends room.

Y/N couldn't help but gawk at the sight her eyes were greeted with, the redheads body clad with tight boxers with his warm bedside lamp lighting the room, and his muscular build, perfectly. Her hands lightly traced his back, making Archie jump before leaning into her touch.

"I'm still going to win this bet," She whispered, shutting the bedroom door and pulling the boy down to his bed with her, "but Arch, can I ask you something?"

Y/N's head nearly reached the wall as the redhead towered over her, hot breath tickling her skin while he rest himself against her without putting any weight down. "Of course." The words floated from his lips so easily, knowing his whole life he'd do anything or answer whatever she wanted.

"Do you think we're meant to be more than friends? I think I've finally realised it's not that we were never and will never be romantic in each other's minds, it's always been that way but we've just never really known." The Robins girl seemed so sure of her words, staring up into his amber eyes with so much honest admiration.

He watched her for what felt like forever, not knowing whether it was the alcohol in them both or just that the little game they were playing didn't matter anymore, and decided to throw that away. A short gasp fell from Y/N's lips as Archie caught them, rolling over and pulling her on top of his chest.

"You're right, I've always wanted us to be more than friends Y/N/N, ever since Leonardo went missing when we were in sixth grade and you kissed my cheek when I found him." Archie propped himself up and returned that same gesture. She stole a kiss but he didn't let it end, running his fingers through her curled blonde hair.

"Arch?" Her small voice called out, sitting atop of his torso still in her revealing red dress. He nodded back with the biggest smile, unable to control the pure joy as her next words tumbled into the world, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"I don't have a choice, since I lost the bet, do I?" He mocked, smile not falling as she hit his chest and rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course, yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

PART SIX

#fanfic #fanfiction #archie andrews smut #archie x reader #archie andrews imagine #archie fluff #archie riverdale #archie imagine #archie andrews fluff #archie andrews fic #archie andrews x reader #imagine #riverdale imagine #riverdale #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #riverdale fanfiction

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mrsamaroevans · 4 years ago

Text

Tightrope

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader.

Request: No. Please, bear with me… I’m not ignoring your requests, I’m just writing as I feel inspired.

Words: 4,643. (This is the longest thing I have ever wrote, I’m really proud of it, but I don’t think someone is gonna read it :c)

Warnings: A swear word maybe.

A/N: English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor. *Gif mine* There’s no need to say I got inspired with The Greatest Showman’s song “Tightrope”. I freaking love it! PT. 2 HERE

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

|| PROMPTS LISTS TO REQUESTS ||

“Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go”

Some people may say you were too young to know about love, at least, that was what everyone used to tell you. Starting for your parents, then your older siblings, your uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, family friends… everyone used to tell you that you were crazy for thinking your high school boyfriend was the one for you. And you got so tired that you just stopped listening.

Oh, but when Miguel put a ring in your hand… that was it for your family and even some of your friends disappeared as soon as you told them. They all agreed on something: twenty-two was a stupid age to get married.

But, how could it be a stupid decision when Miguel was always there for you when even sometimes your own family wasn’t? How could you be crazy to get married to the man who had loved you since you were sixteen? The man who cheered you up in your good moments and even more in the worst.

You looked at your family’s relationships; you had never seen your parents kissing or even hugging each other, you had never listened an “I love you” from any of them to the other one and even your mother had said in a few occasions that she didn’t love your father anymore, she was only with him for mere habit.

“Nothing good comes with marriage… nothing” one of your aunts told you when she saw the pretty ring Miguel gave you. But she was married. Did that mean that she didn’t feel anything for her husband anymore? Did that mean she didn’t considerate her children as something good?

Your sister was divorcing after only three years of marriage, your brother broke up his engagement and got back together with his girlfriend —or fiancée, you didn’t know what they were anymore and, actually, no one really knew— maybe ten times by then. One of your oldest cousins was going for his third marriage, other one had a baby and the father left two months after her daughter was born.

With all the history of failed and turbulent relationships in your family, most people wouldn’t want to get married, they wouldn’t even believe in love. But you did. You believed in Miguel, you believed in your relationship.

Your family didn’t want to know anything about the wedding, you were still living with your parents, but it was like you weren’t. Your mother ignored you most of the time, she only talked to you if it was extremely necessary. You never saw your brother, it came a moment when you only used to go to sleep ‘cause the rest of the day you were planning the wedding with Dita, Miguel and your only friend who stayed with you.

And the day came. After months of planning your wedding, you walked down the aisle with your father at your side; he was the only one who wanted to be at the event. He was the only one in your family who didn’t push you aside. Did he like your decision? No, he didn’t, but he loved you and he wanted to be at your side in one of the most special days of your life.

You looked at Miguel waiting for you. His eyes never left yours and when he took your hand, you knew you weren’t making a mistake.

“You look so gorgeous, I’m so lucky to be at your side” He had whispered before the priest started the ceremony. Miguel intertwined his fingers with yours and he didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the ceremony.

And you hoped for him to never do it.

“You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream”

“We’re so proud of you, hijo,” Dita said, squeezing Miguel’s hand as some tears were gathering in her eyes. Your husband smiled, radiating happiness and pride for working so hard the past weeks.

“You also should be proud of (y/n)” Miguel looked at you and smiled when you frowned “These past weeks were hard but she was amazing… she was there all the way and she didn’t scream at me not even once”

“Shut up” You chuckled, palming his arm.

Your in-laws were in town to celebrate Miguel’s first development deal. The four of you were having dinner at a restaurant and your husband’s parents looked as happy and proud as him.

Miguel’s parents didn’t want him to get involved with the cartel, and the fact that he just started his career on the other side of the border meant that he was further away from the business his father started once.

So they felt relief.

“But, seriously… we have more news” Miguel added, sitting straight and taking your hand. You didn’t know anything about that other news, so you looked at him waiting for whenever he had to say.

“¡Oh, por Dios! You’re having a baby?” Dita cried in excitement, her hands on her mouth, and the tears almost rolled out of her eyes.

“No,” you said, quickly “No, we’re not” A little laugh came out of your mouth and you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty after seeing her reaction.

“Querida, they’ve been married for six months, let them enjoy marriage life as a couple,” José said, smiling and chuckling when his wife also laughed “But a grandkid would be great” He added, making you and Miguel laugh “So, what is that other news?”

“Yes, I also want to know” You frowned but kept your smile at your husband.

“Well… your agent called while you were showering” Miguel started and your heart stopped for a second at hearing him mention your literature agent “Random House wants your book”

Dita gasped in awe and excitement and you felt José’s hand palming your shoulder as a way to congratulate you. Miguel laughed at you ‘cause after a minute you were still shocked, so, his laugh made you go back to reality.

“Are you kidding me?” You asked and Miguel chuckled again “Miguel if you’re joking… I swear to god—”

“I’m not” he shook his head no and squeezed your hand twice “You have to sign the contract tomorrow”

Your hands went to cover your face, you were so excited that you felt about to cry and didn’t want your in-laws to see. They chuckled while Miguel’s arm landed on your shoulders to kiss your temple.

“It shouldn’t be a surprise, love, your book is so good,” Miguel said, pulling your hands out of your face and smiling at you “(Y/n) Galindo, bestselling author, I can see it”

“So I risk it all just to be with you”

Later that day, you went to Loco’s Festival to keep celebrating. There was something about fairs and the smell of cotton candy that kept you happy all the time you were in the place. It reminded you that day when Miguel asked you to be his girlfriend in a fair in Hermosillo.

It all started at a fair and you loved going back to that day.

Miguel held your hand as you were walking through the place, he was trying to convince you to get into the hunting house but all that came from your mouth was a massive “no”

“C’mon! I’ll hold your hand the whole time and everything” Miguel said but you shook your head no again “Amor…”

“I said no, Miguel” You looked at him, smirking “You know how much I hate when someone scares me”

“But nothing’s gonna happen” he insisted “I’m gonna be with you”

“No” you repeated, laughing with him.

But soon, your smile disappeared from your face when you saw the one who was your best friend. She was too far away from Hermosillo, but she looked happy.

You couldn’t help but think about everything you left behind when you got married to Miguel. The last time you had seen your family was the day before your wedding, they didn’t want to know about you once you took Miguel’s name, not even your father had called you in all that time.

You heard your brother’s girlfriend got pregnant and they finally got married. By now, their baby should have been born already and you wouldn’t get to know your niece or nephew.

You missed your mom, you wanted to tell her about your book and wanted to share that moment with her like you always planned, but you made a decision a year ago, and you knew what the consequences would be.

“You’re okay?” Miguel asked once he saw the person you had your eyes on.

You looked down at your intertwined fingers and saw the silver band around his finger. You didn’t regret it.

“I am,” You said, nodding. Miguel half-smiled and leaned to kiss your lips.

“Let’s go find my mother”

“Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between; desert and ocean”

You looked at your mother-in-law through the picture window of the living room; she was in the garden. She was looking at the flowers, maybe talking to them like she used to do. She was dressed in black, just like your husband, just like you.

Once the funeral ended, you went back to your in-laws’ house. Miguel didn’t want to leave his mother, at least not yet, and you also didn't. Dita hasn’t said too much since they told her José had been killed, not even had cried that much, and you were worried about her.

But Miguel… you didn’t know what to do or what to say to him. You had never seen him like that and that was why you didn’t know what to do. Of course José’s murder had hurt you, it hurt you even more than you imagine could possibly do, after all, he played the father role with you since the day you got married to his son.

You knew that because of the life he was living, anything could happen. Your father-in-law had a lot of enemies, but you thought you’d had more time with him; He dreamed of the day when you and Miguel finally announced that you would make them grandparents, and now he would never get to have the chance to meet your kids.

You looked up at hearing footsteps near you. Miguel walked to the armchair you were in and sat at your side “She had said something?” He asked you, looking at his mother.

“Nothing” you shook your head no and he sighed “She’s going to be fine, Miguel, we’re going to be with her as much as she needs it”

Miguel nodded, holding your hand that you placed in his thigh as soon as he sat with you. You looked at his tired eyes, he didn’t sleep last night, actually, he hadn’t slept properly since his father died.

His eyes were lost at some point in the coffee table. It was unbelievable how things could change within days. Ten days before, you were in Hawaii celebrating your third wedding anniversary, and now you were praying to see the happiness that his eyes held those five days again.

“I want to talk to you about something,” he told you, but you already knew that for the look in his eyes “I’ll take my father’s place… in the cartel”

Your heart stopped. “No” you shook your head no and interrupted him when he was about to talk again “You can’t be serious… after what happened to him? There’s no way…”

“Amor—”

“No, Miguel!” You said, letting his hand go “You have your own business in Santo Padre, you don’t have to do this…”

“I talked to Devante—”

“The only thing Devante wants is to keep his job—”

“We’re talking about my father’s legacy—”

“You are your father’s legacy!” You told him, trying to make him understand. You didn’t want to lose him the same way Dita lost José “Your father didn’t want you to follow his steps; he sent you to Cornell, he helped us to start our lives in Santo Padre and it was all ‘cause he wanted you out of it”

Miguel knew you were right, but he couldn’t let all that his father achieved disappear just like that. So, he sighed and didn’t look at you.

He had decided it, he wasn’t asking for permission, not even for your opinion.

You sighed and stood up to go to your room. You needed time to think.

“Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land to follow what's written, but I'd follow you to the great unknown”

Later in the night, you were on your side of the guest’s bed. You were dressed in your pajamas, under the covers, and trying to read a book. But, the truth was that you kept thinking about what Miguel told you.

Even though he had never mentioned something about the desire to follow his father’s steps, something inside you knew he would eventually do it. These past years, Miguel started to be closer to his father, so, you knew it was just a matter of time for it to happened.

The door was opened and Miguel walked in. You looked at him for a second and looked back to the page you read at least thirty times trying to get the words in your head.

Miguel walked through the room to grab his pajamas that consisted of only a pair of pants ‘cause he never wore the shirt no matter how many pajamas you buy for him. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was putting the jacket of his suit in a hanger alongside with his black tie.

“Can we talk?” Miguel asked you when he sat beside you.

You put the book in the nightstand and turned to him “There’s nothing to talk,” You said, shrugging, and for a moment he felt fear at those words, but when you took his hand, that fear vanished away “Do you remember what happened three years ago?”

Miguel smiled, looking at the silver ring in his hand “The best day of my life”

You got closer to him and kissed his cheek. Your chin rested on his shoulder for a few minutes before you said: “I don’t want to lose you”

“You won’t,” Miguel said, moving to cup your cheek “We’re gonna be fine. I promise” he took your hand and kissed the back of it “I love you”

“I love you too”

“We're walking the tightrope, never sure, never know how far we could fall”

As if your lives weren’t hard enough, Lincoln Potter came into your way just to put more tension and distance between you and Miguel. The first weeks after the DEA raid were fine, you were trying to recover from what happened with Los Olvidados and your son’s kidnapping, and once you were going back to your normal routine, Potter began to require more of Miguel's time and adding that he was working now with the MC and Los Olvidados, he barely had time to spend with his family.

In the beginning, it was hard for you to not have him near you like you used to, but as soon as you started working in your fifth book and helping your husband with his proposal for the agricultural expansion, you didn’t have time to notice his absence.

These days, in particular, had been a complete mess. Two days ago, Random House wanted a preview of your work before noon and as the perfectionist you were, you woke up at 5 AM and went to your office to edit what you had by then. Miguel left the house at seven after he reminded you that the architect was coming to start with the plan of reconstruction of your previous house. Cristobal woke up with a fever just after Miguel left and after giving him some medicine, he didn’t want to be with his babysitter or anyone who wasn’t his mother, so you had to work on your text with your son in your lap.

At 3 PM the architect passed by to show and explain to you the plans of the reconstruction and it took you an hour to attend him. You made an appointment with Cristobal’s pediatrician at 5 PM and you stayed with your son the rest of the day waiting for the other symptoms of the cold to come.

That night Cristobal woke up maybe four times. Miguel didn’t even notice it because as soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the next morning when he asked you to take his mother to the doctor.

“Mexico?” You asked, after drinking a sip of your coffee. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” He said, and with those two words, he canceled the dinner you and he were supposed to be having that night “I’ll make it up to you” you heard for the millionth time in the past six months.

“It’s okay” you nodded nonchalantly, grabbing your cup of coffee and your notebook. You needed to work now that Cristobal was sleeping.

“I changed your meeting with Martin at four ‘cause Dr. Kamen’s appointment is at six,” He said before you could leave the kitchen. You bite your tongue before you could say something.

“Thank you,” You said and finally headed to your office.

That hour you spent out of the house, made you feel a bit better, but on your way back home you started to feel how exhausted you were. The only thing you wanted to do was sleeping for a whole week, but once you heard Cristobal’s crying, your mom mode got on and you had to push your tiredness aside.

That night, again, he woke up four times and when you put him back to his crib for the last time, it was 7 AM already. You had a meeting with your agent at nine so there was no reason to try to go back to sleep.

Miguel went out of the house in a hurry and didn’t even have the time to say goodbye to you or tell you when he was coming back. You tried to ignore it, but when you realized you’ve been living that way for the past six months, it wasn’t that easy.

You understood. You always did. Anytime he had to work long hours before, you never said anything, but that time was different. You felt Miguel getting further and further away, and you didn’t like the feeling.

And then, you knew Adelita was pregnant. You didn’t want to think about it, but after the long hours Miguel got to spend with Los Olvidados, you couldn’t help it. And it was killing you, ‘cause you wanted to trust your husband, but, after six months of that awkward distance… maybe he wasn’t the same anymore.

“Hey” you heard on your back.

You were in Cristobal’s bedroom and when you looked back, you saw Miguel at the door, looking at you.

“Is everything fine?” He asked, walking a few steps to you.

You nodded and put the baby monitor in the pocket of your robe “Yes, he’s getting better” you said, looking back at your son who you just laid in his crib for the second time in the night.

“Better?” Miguel looked at his son and then at you.

“He has a cold,” you told him “He’s having hard days… and nights”

“Why I didn’t know?” Miguel asked you but he soon had the answer with just looking at your eyes.

“You haven’t been around the past days… I meant, months” You shrugged and turned off the lamp.

Miguel looked at his son in the dark, feeling guilty for not knowing about his state. He didn’t even hear your footsteps on your way to the door, ‘cause his eyes were lost in your son’s face.

“Don’t touch him,” you said when he was about to caress his head. Miguel looked back at you and for the light of the corridor, you saw how hurt he was at those words “It took me two hours to make him go back to sleep… you should sleep, Miguel. We all need it” and you walked out of the room, holding back your tears.

“We're walking the tightrope, never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?”

Two months after, nothing had changed not even after he promised it would. You had been arguing for the smallest of things, sometimes it was like you didn’t stand each other’s company. Now, even the intimate moments were not present in your life and if you felt Miguel away from you before, now it was worse.

You talked to Nestor multiple times, and even though he assured you Miguel still was head over heels for you, you couldn’t believe it. Not when you looked back at the past eight months and saw a pattern.

That’s when you understood your parents. You remember how much you hated whenever they argued in front of you, you remember fighting with them whenever something like that happened, but now you understood it. Maybe they started like you and Miguel did, maybe when they were younger everything was different. But people change, feelings too and you couldn’t do anything to avoid it.

You just needed to face the truth just like your mother did it. Miguel didn’t love you anymore? He was with you for mere habit? ‘Cause the only thing you could be sure about, were your own feelings.

And that was what hurt you the most; you still loved him.

“You’re busy?” Miguel asked you, walking in your office.

You looked away from your computer and at him “What do you need?” You asked and he smiled, walking a few steps towards your desk. That gorgeous smile just proved to you once again that your feelings for him had not changed.

“I just wanted to tell you that I made a reservation at your favorite, we have to be there at seven,” he said. He seemed so happy for finally having the time to go out for dinner.

But you looked at the time in the corner of your laptop’s screen and then, to the text you were working on “Uh, sorry, Miguel, but I don’t think I can” you said, shaking your head no “I’m really busy” you added.

Miguel smiled again and sit in the corner of your desk “Can’t you leave work for tomorrow?” he grabbed your chin to make you look up at him.

“I don’t know, could you?” You asked and his smile faded away. You tried to ignore what that action made you feel.

He had canceled hundreds of dinners in the past eight months ‘cause he was “busy”. You could cancel one and it shouldn’t be a problem, the thing was, that you knew he wouldn’t think the same.

Miguel scoffed and stood from the desk, and again, you tried to ignore the cold you felt when he stopped touching you. If you think about it, maybe that was the most intimate moment you both had in the last two months.

“Okay, I’ll cancel it,” He said, making his way to the door.

“Thank you… also, you need to call Dr. Kamen to make the appointment with your mother for next week” you told him, so he turned around to see you.

“Next week?” He asked, frowning “I thought you were going with her”

You shook your head “I’ll be in New York, so won’t be able to”

“What?” Miguel said, taking a step forward “When were you gonna tell me?”

“They told me three weeks ago and this is the first time you have time since then,” you said, looking back at your computer.

Miguel sighed. Maybe you didn’t want him to get mad but that was something you just did, and it was about to get worse “Okay, I’ll ask Maria to stay over to watch Cristobal”

“You don’t need to” Miguel frowned again “He’s coming with me”

“You’ll be busy—”

“That’s why Lucy accepted to come with me to help me” you interrupted and at seeing how angry he was with you, you stood up from your chair “Why does it bother you? You’re never here anyway”

“Are you going with that again?” He asked, scoffing. You didn’t answer, you wanted to know what he had to tell you “I’m working to give you and Cristobal the life you have”

“Excuse me but that’s not true” You stopped him, walking around the desk to be closer to him “Don’t come at me saying you’re the only provider in this house ‘cause I had never asked you for a fucking dollar. All my stuff, all Cristobal’s stuff I bought it with my own money… we bought this house together, did you forget it?”

He knew you were right. Your books were selling too well and you had been making a lot of money because of them since you were twenty-three, but, the fact that you were right, only pissed him off even more.

“I’m away ‘cause the DEA has my fucking ass!”

“And who was the one that wanted to sell drugs? It wasn’t me!” You snapped, raising your voice.

You have never said something like that to him, not even when Los Olvidados kidnapped your son. That was why he was taken aback and couldn’t answer anything.

“Ten years ago, I promised to be with you through it all and I’ve kept my promise, you cannot say otherwise. But you? You said nothing was gonna change, you promised me we were not going to be like my parents and here we are”

Miguel chuckled “We’re not like your parents…”

“No? You’re never here and there’s no difference at all when you are…” your eyes were holding tears and when you said that, his eyes started to get cloudy as well “When was the last time you told me you love me?” You asked, but he didn’t make an effort to answer “Tell me ‘cause I don’t remember!” You raised your voice again, your voice was breaking and you were hoping for him to tell you he loves you now.

But he didn’t.

“You can’t tell me that nothing has changed, Miguel, ‘cause we both know it has” You wiped a tear from your cheek and that broke Miguel’s heart.

“Does that mean—?” He babbled.

“No” You interrupted him “I still love you like the first day, but the question here is… do you still love me?”

“Don’t ask that…” he shook his head and cupped your cheeks “You know it” Miguel said.

“Do I?” You asked, taking his hands off from your face “You spend more time with her than with me”

“What?” He squeezed your hands, not wanting to let them go.

“Adelita… all this time you’ve been spending with her—”

“Them, Los Olvidados” he corrected “And Alvarez is always with me…” he said, shaking his head multiple times ‘cause he wanted to take that thought out of your head “It’s only work, nothing had happened” He assured you.

“You know who the father is?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said before, but regretting it right away “You know what? It doesn’t matter” you released from his grip, and he quickly cupped your cheeks again.

“No, no, no… listen to me” Miguel insisted but you shrugged.

“Miguel… I’m going to New York tomorrow” you said and that was when he stopped trying “I don’t want my son growing with parents who don’t love each other like I did... I come back in two weeks, I hope that is enough time for you to think about everything”

“Well, it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view, walking the tightrope with you”

|| MY MASTERLIST || PART 2 HERE ||

|| PROMPTS LISTS TO REQUESTS ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x female reader #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x you #Mayans MC #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fandom #mayans mc fanfic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fandom

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troop-scoop · 4 years ago

Text

Mistakes & Regrets IX

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, (Italics are memories when they’re in bulk, but if it’s one line it’s a thought!)

A/n: Yes I know, a bit of a confusing chapter, I will clear it up as the story goes on.

•••

“Okay, so, in this example,” Mike pointed to the paper he’d drawn on in red pen, of a line, like a tightrope, with a stick figure and a crapily drawn bug. “We’re the acrobat, Will, Barbara, that monster and you are this flea.” the dark haired child told you, pointing to the paper. “And this is the Upside Down, where you hid, and where Will is hiding. Mr Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip through time and space, that’s how you got there, even though you’re from the future.”

You nodded without much though, brows furrowed. You didn’t expect such a detailed lecture from a twelve year old, yet, here you were.

“Caused by a gate.” Dustin added.

“That we tracked to Hawkins lab.”

“With our compasses.”

You nodded again. “That would make sense. . . It would probably have a stronger electromagnetic field than the north pole, so the needle would point you to the gate.” You weren’t good in science class, but you did still know things.

“Exactly!” Dustin explained. “See, guys!” He told his friends, gesturing to you. “Even the time traveling weirdo knew!”

“This gate underground?” Hopper asked.

The girl, who’s name you learned was Eleven, looked to Hopper with a blank expression. “Yes.”

“Near a large water tank?” He asked again.

Her answer was the same. “How did you know all that?” Dustin questioned.

“He’s seen it.”

You looked to your grandmother who’s grip on your hands tightened as she began to speak to Eleven. “Is there any way that you could. . . that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this-”

“The Upside Down.” Eleven corrected.

You knew that Joyce was holding onto you so tightly because you were her granddaughter, and just a kid, but you also resembled her son in many ways.

“Down. Yeah.” Joyce whispered.

“She did it with me. . . When I was there. I saw her.” You told them. “She saw me too.”

“I didn’t do that.”

•••

What were you supposed to be thinking about while emptying a bag full of salt into the large kiddie pool with Hopper and Jonathan? That this was normal? That any of it had you feeling like you were perfectly sane. You felt like you were losing your mind.

Maybe you were. Maybe you were really in 1983, but you’d imagined what that boy had said to you. That you imagined that entire scenario of buying a kid water balloons. Maybe you never did see Eleven in the Upside Down, as the middle schoolers liked to call it. But she remembered you too.

Maybe you weren’t crazy. Maybe you were just. . . having a fever dream. That had to be it, right?

No, this was real, you were just trying to deny it, find any semblance of hope that you weren’t really there, filling up a kiddie pool with salt that Hawkins used for the roads.

There was no explanation for how you could have possibly seen that boy in August, even though you didn’t show up in 1983 until September 5th. There was no explanation as to how you could have seen Eleven in that place, when she wasn’t the one who made it happen.

But now you could clearly remember quite a few moments where things didn’t seem to add up in Hawkins. Like how you’d been walking with your dads and your brother, and stopped at the crosswalk with two girls who didn’t seem to know what personal space was, talking about Madonna as if she was new. Their clothing way out of date, with a pair of Levi’s, and , but you were never one to judge.

But maybe they were talking about Madonna as if she was new, because she was to them. There were so many ‘maybes’ that you could dwell on, theorize over, analyze like you were good at, but that was exhausting. You’d barely eaten that day, just two donuts and a coffee and that was earlier in the day, it was late now, you were tired, and wanted to sit in the shower.

The realizations just kept coming to you, though. Memories of being in Hawkins and seeing people who were out of place, or like the time you’d gone to a cafe with your family in what your dad used to be the arcade he always went to as a kid, and you’d blinked once after getting your smoothie, and the entire cafe was replaced with arcade games and children happily playing them before you blinked again and you were back in the cafe.

The same happened when you’d been walking around Hawkins the afternoon before the incident in the restaurant that made you run off, and end up in that place. You’d been minding your own business when it happened, once again, you blinked, and everything was slightly different, hazy, yet clear. It looked like 1980’s Hawkins instead of the one you’d been in.

Pulling the empty bag away from the kiddie pool, you tossed it onto the floor and looked at Joyce who nodded a bit, holding the goggles you’d found in a science lab that Joyce covered in duct tape to make it dark for Eleven.

You then looked to Dustin who lowered an egg into the kiddie pool, and to your relief, it floated. “Okay, Kid, let’s get you in.” Eleven nodded a bit, taking the watch off of her wrist and handing it to Mike who put it on his wrist. Joyce handed her the goggles. Grabbing onto Eleven’s hand, you helped her into the pool while everyone surrounded the pool, watching as she lowered herself down to float in the salt water.

Joyce took your hand, holding it in her own. Her spare steadying Eleven in the water while your spare reached out for the girl’s hand, which she grabbed onto and held tightly in her’s.

“Barbara?” Eleven questioned. Your eyes looked to Nancy whose gaze was focused on the twelve year old female.

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You gave Eleven’s hand a gentle squeeze, the kind your Pa taught you how to do. She squeezed your hand back but didn’t relinquish her grasp, which told you something was wrong.

“Gone. Gone! Gone!” Joyce released your hand and grabbed onto her shoulders while Hopper grabbed the girl’s other hand.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Joyce kept repeating while Eleven calmed down. But Nancy wasn’t calm, instead holding back tears of her own while Jonathan held her.

“Castle Byers. Will?”

Your ears perked up, and so did Joyce’s. “Tell him. Tell him I’m coming, Mom is coming.”

From the walkie that you’d brought and placed on the medal cart holding the bags of salt you could hear his voice “Hurry”

•••

“Hey, Pa, Look at this!” Daniel said excitedly, holding out his phone for Pa to see the new high score on Tetris.

“Kid, I can't, I’m driving.” Pa reminded, gesturing to the empty road. You were close to Dad’s hometown now. Hawkins, Indiana a small town in northern Indiana, but not anywhere close to Lake Michigan.

“Yeah, Danny, Pa’s driving.” You told him matteraffactly with a smile. You were the older sibling, it was your job to antagonize your little brother.

“Shut up!”

“Daniel!” Dad scolded, turning to face the two of you from the passenger seat of the Chevy. His usually soft and kind eyes, clearly annoyed with how the two of you had been treating each other the entire trip. “Stop telling your sister to shut up all the time. It’s rude, and annoying.”

You chuckled a bit and the tip of Dad’s pointer finger was facing you, causing you to just smile brightly at him, thoroughly amused.

“Will, c’mon, you know her ‘fear sensor’ is broken. Remember when Danny threatened her with a fork?”

You chuckled again and Dad just sighed at the memory, turning back to face the windshield. You’d all gotten back getting fast food, Daniel ordered boneless wings, and it came with a plastic fork. You’d said something to annoy him, and flat out, in front of your fathers, Danny threatened to stab you with it. To which you responded ‘Do it, Punk.’ You weren’t scared of your brother.

The car grew quiet except for the music playing on the radio, which quickly turned to mostly static, which drew everyone’s attention. “Can I connect my phone?” You asked, holding up the device.

“Uh. . . yeah, yeah sure.” Dad told you.

“What? Why can’t I ever connect mine?” Daniel demanded. Offended that on the way to Indiana only you and your parents had played things from your phones.

“Because we actually have good music!” You shot back.

“What? Mine’s way better!”

“Dubstep isn’t music, asshole!”

“Hey!” Pa and Dad both shouted at the same time, Dad holding the cord out to you to connect your phone, and the moment you reached for it, the static shifted a bit.

“August fifth 1985-”

Your dad reached to the volume knob, turning it to the right to turn it up, amplifying the static female voice over the airwaves.

“September- Castle by-”

“Dad?”

“Sh!” Dad told Daniel. Your brother’s hand found your own on the center seat while the two of you watched your Dad staring at the radio intently while Pa stole frequent glances to his husband while still trying to keep an eye on the road.

“I’m sorry- Mist-”

“Will? Babe, what’s wrong?” Pa asked. He was freaking all of you out a bit with how intently he was listening to the familiar voice.

“Sh!” He repeated, stunning you all into permanent silence.

“No word for- Explainat- Ste-”

The radio went back to normal, and you saw the unreadable expression on your dad’s face and he leaned back into his seat, eyes still on the radio as Ed Sheeran’s name came across the screen, as well as the name of the song.

“Dad? What was that?”

He stayed silent.

“You know, Sweetheart, sometimes when we’re in a lower area than before, the signal doesn’t reach us as well. . . It kinda changes between two stations.” Pa tried to reason, his hand holding Dad’s as he continued driving.

“Yeah. . . Right.” You agreed, though you weren’t convinced, something about it wasn’t right.

•••

“Name please? Your full name.”

Looking up from the iron tabletop you met eyes with the man who had a few papers sprawled around on his side of the table, a fountain pen at the ready to write.

You hesitate for a moment. “Y/n Byers L/n.”

Everything was too much, trying to process how Joyce and Hopper left you, Nancy and Jonathan with the kids, and then Nancy and Jonathan left which resulted in all of this. The trauma of holding Mike in your arms as tight as your could on the ground as if he was your own brother while Eleven and that. . . thing both died.

You remembered his tears and how he clutched onto your shirt in that seventh grade science class classroom, his heat against your chest while you tried to soothe him. You remembered how Dustin and Lucas came to you for comfort as well.

“Year of birth?”

“2004.” You relayed blankly. The sounds of Mike’s muffled sobbing echoing around in her head while you sat in front of the government official.

“Home residence?”

“425 Culpepper Lane, Weehawken, New Jersey.” The voice that you’d heard while running with Eleven in your arms also still echoing.

‘Today is just another day of trying to get by without her.’

It was your brother’s voice. But not as high pitched, or squeaky.

He asked your age. “Fifteen.” Was your response, looking down at your hands, where Eleven’s dried blood was smeared over your palm when you wiped it away from her nose. It was caked into your skin.

“Alright Miss Byers, correct me on anything I might have wrong. Y/n Byers L/n born 2004 aged fifteen, raised at the address of 425 Culpepper Lane in Weehawken, New Jersey?” You nodded a bit and looked back up at him,

“Biological daughter of William Byers?” He asked. once again, you nodded.

“Alright, Miss Byers, we need to go over a few more things.” He told you, taking out a large file and placing it on the table in front of you.

“LIke?”

“How your new life will look. Unfortunately, we can’t get you back home to your time, we’ll help you build a new life here. We’ll give you a birth certificate, emancipation papers, and we’ll give you a monthly stipend for however much minimum wage is where you’re from.” He told you, taking out a calculator from the folder, ready to calculate how much you’d be getting from them. “How much is it per hour?”

“Like, ten dollars.” You shrugged a bit. Now not only trying to process the sobbing and tears that had stained your shirt and the girl who had disappeared before your eyes, probably dead, but now you had to process that the government was going to try and buy your silence.

“Ten dollars?” He questioned, looking up at you from the calculator. “That’s outrageous!”

You tilted your head a bit, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. “Yeah, out of everything about my life so far, the most outrageous thing is the minimum wage in New Jersey as of late 2019. Inflation’s a bit of a bitch, isn’t it?”

The man’s pale skin went flush, as if he just remembered who he was talking to. That you weren’t just an adult he was negotiating with, but that you were a fifteen year old girl who wouldn’t see the world like you knew it for another 36 years, where, biological, you’d be a fifty-one year old woman who lived her entire life in the past, instead of the fifteen year old girl who had her entire future in front of her.

“I apologize. . .” He spoke, typing into the device and then taking out a check book and uncapping his fountain pen, writing down on the small rectangular paper. Ripping it off, he handed it to you.

You just stared at the check for a moment before reluctantly taking it from him. Holding

it between your thumb and index finger, staring down at the beige paper without much thought, your vision not focused on anything in particular on the sheet.

“We’ll have you moved into an apartment by the end of next week, and pay for rent for the first few months. We’ll give you a budget for furniture,-”

You began to zone him out, going back to a few hours prior. How when Eleven threw Mike back he landed against the cabinets. You were by his side in an instant, holding him while everyone watched in shock as Eleven sacrificed herself.

Even twenty minutes after it was all over, you still held him on the linoleum floor listening to his crying while he held onto you for dear life. To him, you were a stranger, yet he trusted you enough to cry in your arms. A twelve year old version of your Uncle Mike, who you knew well. But you barely knew this boy. He was just a kid. He wasn’t the man guy you knew as your Uncle Mike yet. He was just a scared and sad kid.

“Miss. Byers.”

You looked up snapped out of your train of thought, meeting the ice blue eyes that the men held. “You’ll be going by Y/n L/n, only. Byers is no longer your name. And you have to stay quiet about all this. We’ll talking to Mr. Sinclair, Henderson, and Wheeler, as well as Mrs. Byers and her son. We’ll speak with the chief as well as Miss Wheeler. No one can know you’re from the future. Or anything that’s happened due to Hawkins lab. We need you to sign this NDA. You can never speak about this again. Is that understood?” His question was assertive as he put the fountain pen in your hand.

“Okay.” It was a whisper, but he understood it while you signed the papers, handing them back to him.

“You and the Byers boy will come to the lab periodically to get checked up, mentally and physically-”

“Excuse me?” You questioned, tilting your head a bit.

He cleared his throat, “You and William were in that place for extended periods of time. And we’re concerned about your health. The atmosphere there was toxic. We’re afraid that it could affect your long term health. Especially yours. How long were you there exactly.”

“A while.” You started recounting the amount of times the hands on your watch went by. “A month? Maybe?”

His face shifted as he stared at you, before writing something down on his paper. You could remember how many times you’d counted after the Demogorgon busted its way out of the wall in the middle school. You could remember plenty about it now. How you’d take a few sips of water from your water bottle to make sure you were at least a bit hydrated, but you were conserving it.

You’d always retained a bit of your baby fat from being an infant, but you’d crawled out of that place without any of it, and your baby face was practically gone. Cheeks a bit sunken in, barely noticeable, but you’d noticed it. You’d also noticed how you could see the bump where your ribcage ended without having to stretch up. You didn’t look like you. You didn’t look like the little girl who ran around the house while either your pa or dad chased after you. You didn’t look like the kid who you’d seen in the mirror the morning you called yourself an expensive disappointment. Now you supposed you were an expensive missing disappointment.

“Alright Miss L/n. Send in Henderson when you leave.” He gestured to the door. It didn’t seem right, everything about it was slightly off as you stood from the chair, grabbing your bag and leaving the room into the brightly lit hospital hallway.

“Dustin.” You called to the waiting room, seeing the curly haired boy look up at you in curiosity before seeing you gesture to the door with your head. He got up and went in.

•••

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the wall and your walkman playing Queen at full volume. You needed it. It was the only thing keeping you sane while the boys were with Jonathan, Joyce and Will.

You’d sat with the boys before they were able to go back. Being the emotional support that the three needed. Even if their parents were there, they’d never understand what the boys went through. You did, and you’d be there for them as best as you could.

But the moment they left, and Nancy and her mother had gone to get something to eat, you’d gotten up and went over to the vending machine, which refused to work. So you’d opted for the ridiculous look of having your walkman clipped to the collar of your hoodie, hair a mess and dark bags under your eyes, a scowl on your face.

Eyes closed you just listened to Freddie Mercury’s voice, your foot tapping to the guitar rift. And even though you were completely absorbed into your music, you weren’t oblivious the feeling of someone standing next to you before sitting down.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to see Steve sitting next to you. His face bruised and a few cuts from how harshly Jonathan had punched him. But you were pretty sure the small one by the crease of his nostril was from you.

You pulled the headset off of you ears and stared at him while he said nothing, the music now being heard by both of you.

“I’m a giant prick, huh?” It made you smile a bit, tilting your head in confusion as he turned his head to look at you, eyes soft. “I mean- I fucked up. I over reacted over Jonathan and Nancy, I’m. . . I’m sorry that I was mean to you.”

You shrugged a bit, keeping quiet which left him confused. You always had something to say to him, always was quick to playfully insult him, or give a come back, you usually said something witty to keep up the banter and conversations.

“Y/n, you gotta give me something to work with, I don’t know how to talk to you right now. You look like you want to equally cry and punch me again.”

“I don’t wanna punch you.” You finally said, turning your head back to where the wall and ceiling met in front of you. “Just a bad day overall. I mean, i go to very early this morning, like two am, and then Jonathan had the fucking audacity to wake me up at seven. And then you and your shit-stirrer friends pissed me off, I bruised my hand.” He said, lifting up the fist you’d used to punch him, maybe a bit too hard. “Got arrested, only ate two donuts in the morning, then I. . . deal with a lot of mind-fucking bullshit, then I filled a kiddie pool with salt. Fucking salt. It wasn’t even really a kiddie, it was giant. And then! Oh and then, I ate a fucking can of choclate pudding! I hate pudding! I was just hungry! And then I held a twelve year old in my arms in a empty science class while he cried.”

Steve stared at you, seeing the stress that had been put on your shoulders throughout the entire day. He didn’t know what to say. What was there to be said? You were trying to cope with something, and he couldn’t see what it was.

“Yeah, that. . . sucks.” Was all he could say but it got a frustrated and annoyed groan out of you.

“Yikes! Just say yikes! Or if it’s really bad ‘big yikes!’” You’d said it so many times back to back that it didn’t sound like a real word to you.

But Steve found it interesting while he stared at you, examining the way the hoodie fell around your silhouette, and the ridiculous way you had your walkman clipped right under your neck. The pink medal being a very stark contrast to what you were wearing

“Yikes.” He repeated with a smile.

A brief grin came across your face as he said it.

“So, we’re still friends?” He asked, sitting up straight and turning his whole body to face you, his legs crossed like a kindergartener on the class carpet, in his own colored square.

“We were friends before?” You asked teasingly, doing the same to face him, and like you were as a kindergartener, sticking a leg out. Which always got you into trouble.

“Shut up.”

“Y/n!”

Turning your head you saw Jonathan coming down the hall, A piece of stained paper in hand as he came over. You didn’t miss the way that both Steve and Jonathan glanced at each other, though.

“Jona-”

“Here. I think you’ll want to see this.” He told you, holding out the folded piece of paper out to you, which you hesitantly took as Steve picked up on the cue to leave

“I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later?” You nodded as a response, watching as Steve stood up and went back to the opened waiting area while Jonathan squatted down next to you as you unfolded the paper only to be met with a photo of your own face. The word ‘missing’ right above it in all capital letters, your name, age, and facial description on it, as well as what you’d been wearing when you’d ran off that night. The date of your birth, and the date of that night.

“Mom said she found it in there.” Jonathan informed you while you kept examining the photo of yourself. Your hair pushed behind your ears, a smile on your face in a pale blue sweater around Christmas time.

“No. . .”

•••

Add yourself to the taglist!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @jxnehxpper @yllwtaxi @songofcosplay @potatopooper05 @cheesecakeisapie @robinsdolan @yall-wildin-like-siriusly

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington slow burn #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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bechloeislegit · 5 years ago

Text

2020 BeChloe Valentines

CIRCUS BELLAS

Prompt from FanFiction user kitra39: How about an AU where Chloe is a tightrope walker in a circus, high in the air, and Beca is on the ground, the clown that loves her.

Beca Mitchell, aka Bubbles the Clown, sat in the stands of the Big Top, watching the Balancing Beales practice their acrobatic routine. Actually, she was more interested in one particular Beale. She held her breath as she watched Chloe making her way across the tightrope.

Beca stopped breathing when Chloe seemed to stumble a bit. She knew it was part of the act, but it still got her every time. Beca doesn't know what she would do if anything ever happened to Chloe.

"Hey, Bubbles," Stacie said, smiling as she sat next to Beca.

"Hey, Stacie," Beca said. "How's Brutus doing?"

"He's fine," Stacie said, looking up to watch Chloe finish her routine. "I think he ate some garbage or something. I put him through some of his tricks and he made it through without getting sick."

Stacie, the dog trainer, had become one of Beca's best friends since joining the circus. Brutus, one of the dogs in Stacie's act, had been sick for most of the night before and Stacie had been worried about him.

"That's good," Beca said.

Beca and Stacie started clapping when Chloe made it safely to the other side. She looked down and waved at them, giving them a bow before she started climbing down from the platform.

Once down she hurried over to Beca and Stacie.

"How are my two favorite performers today?" Chloe asked, beaming smile in place.

Beca handed her a bottle of water. "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"I'm good now that Brutus is feeling better," Stacie said.

Chloe chuckled as she sipped her water. "I can't believe you named that little ball of fluff Brutus."

"The kids eat it up," Stacie said. "When I introduce Brutus their eyes get big because they're expecting a huge dog. When my tiny French poodle comes out, they all laugh."

"How about you, Bubbles?" Chloe said with a teasing smile. "Any new routines you clowns are cooking up?"

"We might have a surprise or two up our sleeves," Beca said with a smile.

"Chloe," Charlotte Beale called out. "Come on. We're taking a lunch break."

"Coming, mom," Chloe called back. "I'll see you guys later. Bye, Becs."

"Bye," Beca said and let out a sigh as she watched Chloe walk over to her mother.

"Girl, you got it bad," Stacie said, patting Beca on the leg before leaving her sitting alone.

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

After Stacie left, Beca sat alone in the stands thinking about how she went from wanting a music career to becoming a clown in a circus.

"Come on, Beca," Amy whined. "It will be fun and we can make good money."

"But, joining the circus?" Beca said. "That's childish and stupid."

"We can be clowns," Amy said. "That way we can do childish and stupid stuff and people will laugh. And we'll get paid."

Beca doesn't remember agreeing to Amy's idea yet found herself going to Clown College. She's surprised Amy stuck with it because of the amount of physical exertion that was involved. But stuck with it they did and three years later, here they were, working for the Posen Family Circus as part of the Bellas, the name Aubrey Posen, the circus owner's daughter, gave to the clowns since it was an all-female group.

Beca was ready to quit being a clown before she joined the Posen Family Circus. But, she met Chloe on her first day and fell for her instantly. Beca was shy and hadn't done more than watch from afar as she fell more and more in love with Chloe.

In the three years she's known Chloe, they have become good friends. Beca counts Chloe as one of her best friends, along with Stacie and Amy. Beca sighed; being Chloe's best friend was all she would be.

Beca let out another sigh and turned her head when she heard CR call her name. Beca got up and walked over to CR.

"What's up?" Beca asked.

"We're going to lunch," CR said. "I was told to find you so you could join us."

"Thanks," Beca said, and the two walked out of the tent to find the Bellas waiting for them.

"Come on, Beca," Emily said excitedly. "We're going to that diner in town you like."

Beca smiled and easily walked with the Bellas to the local diner.

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

"Hey, Flo," Beca called out. "Can you help me with my backflip? I can't seem to stick the landing. These clown shoes keep getting in the way."

"Sure," Flo said. "I'll show you a trick I learned."

The rest of the Bellas were rehearsing when Aubrey came over to them.

"Looking good, Bellas," Aubrey said as he stopped to watch the group."Can I have your attention over her for a moment, please?"

The Bellas gathered in front of Aubrey.

"Thank you," Aubrey said. "Tonight is our first night in this town and I want to make sure we do everything exactly as rehearsed. Keep it tight and try not to screw it up."

"We're clowns," Amy said. "Aren't we supposed to screw it up?"

The rest of the Bellas laughed.

"All the moves are choreographed to prevent any accidents, Amy," Aubrey said. "So, do the moves exactly as choreographed and we won't have any accidents. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Amy replied with a salute.

Aubrey walked off and Chloe came over.

"Hey, Chloe," Jessica and Ashley said.

"Hey, girls," Chloe greeted as she joined them. "Beca, can I talk to you for a minute?"

All eyes turned to Beca, who blushed. "Sure."

Beca moved to stand next to Chloe and Chloe took her wrist to lead her away from the group. Chloe didn't stop until they were behind a tree and out of view of the Bellas.

Chloe stood nervously wrenching her hands. She looked at Beca.

"Are you okay?" Beca asked.

"I want to run away from the circus," Chloe blurted out.

Beca chuckled. "I thought people wanted to run away to join the circus."

"I'm serious, Beca," Chloe said. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"What?" Beca asked. "Why?"

"I told my parents that I wanted to quit so I could go to college to become a veterinarian," Chloe said. "My dad didn't take it well."

"I'll miss you if you leave," Beca said. "But, you should do what will make you happy."

"I know I'm throwing this at you in the worst possible way," Chloe said. "But, I want you to come with me."

Beca gasped and her eyes widened in surprise.

"You do?" Beca asked. "Why?"

"I like you, Beca," Chloe said. "A lot. And I think I may be falling in love with you. I don't want to lose you from my life. I remember you told me that you wanted to make music. If we run away together, I can go to school and you can start the process to become a music producer. Whatever that entails."

"How will we live?" Beca asked.

"I have almost everything I earned from being a part of the Balancing Beales saved up," Chloe said. "Plus, we both are hard workers and I'm sure we can find jobs to help us earn enough to live off of so we don't have to use up all our savings."

"I don't know, Chloe," Beca said. "It's really risky. I'm going to have to think about this."

"Is it because you don't like me in a romantic way?" Chloe asked, tears stinging her eyes.

"God, no," Beca said, taking Chloe by the arms. "I've liked you for a while. I just need to process all this. I promise I'll think about it and let you know soon. Okay?"

Chloe nodded her head and looked down at her feet.

"Hey," Beca said, stepping closer to Chloe.

Chloe looked at Beca and Beca leaned in to kiss her. Chloe was a bit surprised at the bold move but kissed Beca back. Beca broke the kiss.

"I promise, I'll seriously think about it," Beca said.

Chloe smiled and the two went their separate ways.

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

Beca didn't exactly avoid Chloe over the next few days, but she did make sure that Chloe was unable to get her alone. If Chloe had, she would have wanted an answer from Beca and Beca didn't have one for her.

That night thoughts of the future haunted Beca's dreams.

"Do you Chloe Beale take this woman, Beca Mitchell, to be your wedded wife?"

"I do," Chloe said, with a beaming smile as she stared into Beca's eyes.

"Beca! Your song is on the radio," Chloe squealed and hugged Beca. "And, it's already at number ten!"

"Well, Dr. Beale," Beca said. "How was your first day as a doggie doctor?"

"It was amazing," Chloe said. "I helped save a litter of puppies."

Beca woke from these dreams with a smile on her face. She checked the clock and it was only four a.m.; way too early for her to get up, so she went back to sleep.

Beca watched as the love of her life walked down the aisle toward her fiance.

"If I hadn't been such a coward that could be me," Beca thought as she watched the ceremony through her tears.

"We're sorry, Miss Mitchell," the record producer said. "But, anyone can do this. Bring us something original and we'll consider it."

"Oh, Beca," Chloe cried over the phone. "I lost another patient today. I'm a terrible vet."

"It's not your fault, Chloe," Beca told her. "You can't save them all."

"I can't save any of them," Chloe cried. "I should never have quit the circus."

Beca jerked awake and sat up in her bed. She ran a hand through her hair, her forehead sweaty.

"So, which future is real?" Beca asked herself. "This doesn't bring me any closer to knowing what to do."

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

Beca was in a funk most of the day and Stacie and Amy noticed

"What's up with you, Beca?" Stacie asked as she and Amy sat with her while watching the Beales practice.

"Yeah, Beca," Amy said. "You've been off most of the week. "What's going on?"

Beca looked at her two closest friends and then looked up at Chloe on the tightrope. She let out a sigh.

"Chloe wants to leave the circus to go to veterinary school," Beca said.

"And you don't want her to go," Stacie said.

"She asked me to go with her," Beca said.

"That's great, Beca," Amy said. "We know you like her. A lot!"

"Yeah," Beca said. "And, she likes me, too. That's why she asked me to go with her."

"Beca!" Stacie squealed and pulled Beca into a hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"I didn't say yes," Beca said.

"You told her no?" Stacie asked.

"No," Beca said. "I told her I had to think about it."

"What's there to think about?" Amy asked. "You like her. She likes you. She wants to pursue her dreams. If you go with her you can pursue your dreams, too."

"It sounds like a no-brainer to me," Stacie said.

"Yeah, but what if I'm not good enough to become a music producer?" Beca said. "Or Chloe changes her mind about me? I'll be out there, God knows where, doing God knows what, on my own. It's too risky."

"Beca, look at me," Stacie said; Beca looked at her. "Everything in life is risky. The girl you've been slowly falling in love with for the past three years wants to be with you. I say you should go for it."

"I second that," Amy said.

"What about you guys?" Beca asked, looking from Stacie to Amy.

"What about us?" Stacie asked.

"You two are my best friends," Beca said. "I don't want to lose that."

"You plan on ghosting us, Mitchell?" Amy asked.

"What?" Beca asked. "No."

"Then what's the real problem?" Stacie asked.

"I'm scared," Beca said. "Scared of failing. Here, if I mess up, it's no big deal. I can hide behind my makeup and no one knows it's me. Out there, I'm exposed and if I mess up, everyone will see it's me."

"Chloe sees you without your makeup and she still wants you to leave with her," Stacie said. "That doesn't sound very scary to me."

"It doesn't sound scary when you say it out loud," Beca said with a half-smile. "But it does when I say it inside my head."

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

That night during the show, Beca wasn't feeling very clownish.

"Beca," Aubrey called out to get the girl's attention.

"What?" Beca asked, walking over to Aubrey.

"Get it together," Aubrey said. "You're supposed to be a clown. Kids don't want to see a sad clown. Get it together or leave the Big Top. Got it?"

Beca nodded her head and ran after Ashley, tripping over her shoes as she fell and took down four other clowns with her. The kids laughed and Beca was back into her Bubbles character.

The Bellas were set up around the ring as everyone watched the Beales perform. Beca only had eyes for Chloe. She watched with rapt attention as Chloe went through her routine on the tightrope. Beca knew it was almost time for Chloe to 'stumble' and held her breath. As Chloe approached the spot, Beca noticed something was off. She immediately ran over to the net that would catch Chloe if she fell.

Beca continued watching the whole time. A gasp went up and then a collective "Oh" sounded around the tent. Chloe tried to regain her balance but couldn't and fell.

Beca watched in horror as she noticed that Chloe was going to hit the net close to the edge. She played it up a bit, running back and forth a couple of times with her arms held out as if to catch Chloe.

Chloe hit the net and bounced; she came down on the edge and Beca was there as she flipped off the net and into Beca's arms. The crowd roared with approval as Beca held Chloe in her arms.

"Are you okay?" Beca whispered.

"I think so," Chloe whispered back.

"They think it's part of the show," Beca whispered. "It's Valentine's Day, let's give them a show. Follow my lead."

Chloe nodded her head. Beca carried Chloe around until she was at the exit to where the performers entered and exited. The spotlight followed them and Beca set Chloe down so she could stand. Beca doffed her hat and bowed down in front of Chloe. She stood and Chloe smiled before kissing Beca's cheek. Beca put her hands over her heart and started moving them back and forth as if her heart was beating fast (it was). She then twirled around and fell to the ground as if she had fainted, kicking her legs up before dropping them to the ground.

The crowd roared with laughter and applauded their antics. Chloe smiled and waved at the crowd before exiting the tent. Beca sat up, shaking her head back and forth. She saw a few of the performers outside the exit rush over to Chloe to make sure she was okay. Beca stood and made as if to follow Chloe. Amy and Emily came and grabbed Beca's arms, dragging her back to continue the show.

After the show was over, Beca rushed out of the tent to find Chloe. She was told Chloe was with her folks in their trailer.

Beca knocked on the trailer door and Mr. Beale answered.

"Hi, Mr. Beale," Beca said. "I wanted to check on Chloe and make sure she was okay."

"Come in, Bubbles," Mr. Beale said, smiling at Beca still in her clown costume.

"Sorry. I was worried about Chloe, and came straight here after the show," Beca said, thankful that her makeup hid her red cheeks.

"Beca," Mrs. Beale said, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you for catching Chloe. It could have ended badly if you hadn't been there."

"Is she okay?" Beca asked.

"I'm fine, Becs," Chloe said, coming from the back of the trailer.

"Do you feel like taking a walk?" Beca asked. "I'd like to talk to you."

"Sure," Chloe said. "A walk would be nice."

"Don't stay out too long," Mrs. Beale said.

"We won't," Beca assured Mrs. Beale.

Beca held the door for Chloe and they started walking. Beca led Chloe to a somewhat secluded spot and pulled her into a hug.

"I was so scared when I saw you falling," Beca said.

"It's okay," Chloe said, holding Beca. "I'm okay, thanks to you."

"I want to go with you when you leave," Beca said, pulling out of the hug to look at Chloe. "Things could have gone horribly wrong tonight and the thought of losing you-"

Beca stopped and cleared her throat. "I don't want to think about it. I, uh, I love you, Chloe, and I want to go wherever you go. I'm in. Let's run away together."

Chloe let out a happy squeal and kissed Beca. Beca kissed her back and pulled back with a smile.

"I love you, too," Chloe said. "And I talked to my parents again. They're going to let me go and said they'd help me with college and everything."

"Oh," Beca said, stepping back. "So, I guess you won't need my help."

"What?" Chloe said. "No, no. I didn't ask you to go with just to help me. I love you and want us to be together. I told my parents about asking you to go with me and they're all for it. They know I love you, and they're okay with that, too."

"Really?" Beca asked.

"Yes, really," Chloe said, pulling Beca to her again.

This time Beca kissed Chloe and they broke apart when they heard someone clearing their throat.

"Shit," Beca muttered, as she turned to see Stacie standing behind her with a smirk on her face.

"It's about time," Stacie said. "Oh, and Chloe?"

"Yeah?" Chloe said hesitantly.

"You got a little something on your face," Stacie said, laughing as she pointed and waved her hand around Chloe's face.

Chloe reached her hand up and wiped at her face. She pulled her hand back and started laughing when she saw some of Beca's makeup on her hand.

"Here," Beca said, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. Being a clown the handkerchiefs kept coming. Beca rolled her eyes and handed Chloe the handkerchiefs.

Chloe laughed and wiped the makeup from her face.

"I guess this means you two are leaving us," Stacie said, a sad smile on her face.

"It does," Beca said. "But, you're my best friend. We'll keep in touch. I kind of love having you as a friend. I'm not going to lose what we have."

"I second that," Chloe said.

"Thanks," Stacie said. "I'll let you two get back to what you were doing. Happy Valentine's Day, love birds."

~ 2020 BeChloe Valentines - Circus Bellas ~

Ten years later, Grammy-winning music producer Beca Mitchell, and her veterinarian wife, Dr. Chloe Mitchell, were sitting at the breakfast table with their two children, four-year-old Sophie Mitchell, and two-year-old Dylan Mitchell. Chloe was reading the morning paper when she let out an excited squeal.

"Beca! Look at this."

"What is it?" Beca asked, walking over to look over Chloe's shoulder. "The Posen Family Circus is coming close to us this year. We'll definitely have to take the kids. We haven't seen your folks or Stacie and Amy in almost a year."

"I'd love that," Chloe said. "I'm sure the kids will love it, too."

"And look," Beca said, pointing something out in the article. "They have a show on Valentine's Day. We should go then."

"That's perfect," Chloe said.

Beca put her arms around Chloe's waist and kissed her shoulder. "I'm so glad you asked me to run away with you."

"I'm so glad you agreed," Chloe said, turning on her stool so she was facing Beca. She leaned her head back and Beca kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Beca said.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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ace-pervert · 5 years ago

Note

Why are we still here on this website despite everything that goes on?

Discord servers are to small and homogenous and there arent that many servers , the servers are dominated by a few people so if you dont like the culture established by them the server isnt exactly fun, and if you're on bad terms with the server owner get ready for every responds to feel like walking on a tightrope over a pit of hungry sharks. Oh and every server has its own official and unofficial rules so whats ok on one might be banned on another and its a pain in the ass to remember which one has which rules.

Facebook has access to pretty much everything aside from the soul of your first born, the place is as tolerant to anything sexual as a sex repulsed catholic nun, anything you say can and will be found and used against you by future employers and/or relatives, and the place is dominated by fake as fuck disney loving homeschooling stay at home moms with .

Twitter is dominated by moronic celebrities and idiotic politicians, the character limit is to low to do anything without making seperate posts, you need to give them your phonenumber which in and of itself makes the site risky to use no matter how secure they claim it is, theres a massive bias by the miderators against certain political groups but they do nothing against other groups even when they more or less post the same things.

Smaller blogging sites suffer from all the issues of the discord servers but you have to memorise even more passwords, and they tend to be even more niche.

And other sites simply lack the capabilities that we as bloggers desire.

Even ignoring all the issues that I mentioned, the simple truth is that the ability to communicate with so many people from vastly different backgrounds in an enviroment where the user, not the site, is in control of which information they want to share, has resulted in a place where the users are in many regards more, not less, honest about who they are and what opinions they have on pretty much everything, without fear or retaliation in the real world.

Put bluntly we're here because its the only place where we can be ourselves

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echoes-of-realities · 4 years ago

Text

I’m a writer, and despite not knowing how I feel or what to write, I wanted someplace to record all the things I do remember about him. I spent so long trying to erase every memory of him, and now that he’s really, truly gone, I want all those memories I hated back.

He always smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, sawdust, and something sweet I can never ever name until I get a whiff of a can of Pepsi being cracked open.

He was quiet, and reserved, and he didn’t like to drink. I get that from him. I got my sweet tooth and terrible eyesight from him too, and I take my coffee the same way he used to. I remember because my sister once tried his coffee before he put the cream and sugar in it and she somehow loved it black; my dad and me couldn’t understand how this three year old liked black coffee. I’m scared I got his addicting personality too, which is why I rarely touch alcohol and will never gamble in my life.

He loved yard sales and pawn shops. It didn’t matter where we were going or how late for a job he would be, he would always pull over and look through them. Was it irresponsible? Yeah, of course, but he would let us wander the plastic tables of people selling their long forgotten memories and dusty old regrets and he never rushed us even as the clock ticked further and further away from being on time.

He bought a GameCube and the Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker for $70 from a yard sale once. We used to crowd around the tv and play together, just the three of us. My sister was too young to handle the controller, but we used to let her sail around the ocean while we looked up walkthroughs. I spent almost 2 frustrating hours trying to do the part on the pirate ship at the very beginning, but when he came home he did it for me and it took him like 10 seconds. I thought it was a miracle despite not knowing what a miracle was.

He once adopted a cockatiel from the lady who hired him to redo her kitchen flooring instead of taking payment for a job. My mom hated that he did that, and hated that bird even more. I was five, but he let me name him Cuddles even though he knew you can’t really cuddle a bird.

He used to set up a cheap tv and our gamecube in his van so my sister and I could play it while he was on jobs. We usually ended up following him around and watching him work though because playing video games by ourselves wasn’t half as fun as seeing strange houses and unrolling carpet. I haven’t even been in a flooring store since, but I could probably install a decent looking carpet even still.

He used to let my sister and I pick the pickles off his McDonald’s burgers even though they were his favourite part, because they were our favourite part too, so he gave them all to us every time.

He bought me a painted wooden elephant from the farmers market just because he saw me looking at it. I can still remember that day; the bright sun, my sister sleeping on my mom’s shoulder, the cement parking bar I was walking on like a tightrope, my dad’s hand in mine and the wooden elephant in the other.

He would call me squirt and monkey instead of sweetie or honey and I always loved that because no other dad I knew called their kids that, and when my sister came along he called her little squirt. I always forget about that until I find myself calling my little cousins squirt or monkey just like he did to me, once upon a forever ago.

He used to fall asleep curled up in front of the fireplace like a cat. Apparently it helped his sore back but I think he just liked the feel of the fire on his face, even if it was electric heat. He once melted a pillow and almost burned down our house and the neighbour’s because we lived in a tiny duplex, but the next day he was fast asleep in front of the fireplace just like always.

He’s the real reason I wanted to learn how to play guitar, and I’ve never once admitted that to anyone. He had an electric guitar and an amp and a microphone set up out in our garage, and I would spend hours trying to get my little fingers to play a chord while he worked on his wood project of the week. He was never any good at it because he never had someone teach him and he was too busy to get better on his own, but I still remember sitting in rapt attention in the garage with cigarette smoke thick in the air between us as he slowly plucked one of the few songs he knew.

The feel of the strings under my fingers and the hum of the body against mine makes me feel closer to him, even in spite of the miles and years and corporeality now between us.

The only thing I have left of him is an old guitar strap, a wooden elephant, and these ashes that were once him.

My dad was a petty thief, he evaded taxes for probably 20 years, he owes over $50,000 in child support, he stole dental equipment and jewelry from jobs, he had a gambling addiction that ruined my family and nearly put us on the street, he went bankrupt and didn’t tell my mom until Canada Revenue was knocking on her door looking for someone to pay off his debts, he abandoned us and hurt me more than anyone else in my life ever has and probably more than anyone else ever will.

He was also just, you know, my dad for 9 years, unquestionably, unconditionally. He taught me to ride a bike, to play video games, to tie my shoes, to sword fight with sticks, to roll carpet properly, to balance on cement parking bars, to bury my sister in sand, to sometimes eat dessert before supper after a really bad day. He gave me my love of music, of video games, of McDonald’s pickles, of fantasy novels, of wolves, of sweet things, of coffee with three teaspoons of sugar. He was my only connection to being Cree and I was too young when he left to ask him all the questions I have about our shared culture.

He was Native and born to two fifteen year olds, the oldest of five kids from four different dads. He never finished grade 8 and started working at age thirteen to help his mom support his siblings. His own father held him in the hospital once the day he was born before being chased off the reserve. His sister never knew her dad either, his brother’s dad was abusive and died of cancer, his youngest brother and sister were 16 years younger than him. He had two kids who were so white passing most people thought we weren’t even his. Between the inter generational trauma and the fact that he never had a stable father figure in his life, it’s a wonder he stayed around as long as he did.

But while knowing this now explains his actions, it doesn’t excuse them. It doesn’t make my own pain magically go away, it doesn’t erase the decade and a half I spent angry and confused and grieving someone who’s love was supposed to be unconditional. I don’t forgive him for all the pain he caused me, but I miss him. I’ve always missed him, despite all the years I spent hiding that with anger.

I’ve always know that grief can be very lonely, I never knew exactly how lonely it truly was until I lost someone that only one other person in my life is grieving. My sister and I are alone, despite the love and support from our friends and family, we’re alone in this. Nobody in our lives aside from us, his only two daughters, miss him.

There’s a different type of grief when you lose an estranged parent, especially one that abandoned you when you were just a kid who had only just learned her times tables and how to write in cursive. It wasn’t my choice to have no contact with him for over half my life, but I still regret those lost years all the same. I’ve been grieving him for fourteen years already, but it’s different now because he’s really gone, not just “out there somewhere.” I used to check obituaries for the town I was born in because I didn’t know whether he was dead or alive, whether he was homeless or had another family, whether he was even in that town or not. He’s really gone now, and so is any chance at ever rekindling with him, at having a relationship with him.

I’ve lost my dad three times in my life:

The first was that February night when he dropped Valentine’s Day gifts off for my sister and I and then disappeared into the dark night, swirling out of focus like the snow falling just out of sight of the porch light.

The second time was that August evening when he sent me a Facebook friend request and I deleted it because I was still so caught up in my anger at him abandoning us that I was in no place to make amends, I know now that it was because he was sick and dying even though it would take another five years before he was truly gone.

The third, and last time, I lost my dad was July 25th, on that windy afternoon when his sister who we’d never met Facebook messaged us to tell us that she found him dead that morning.

I will never lose him again because he’s gone for good now. I’ve know this fact for fourteen years, but somehow it’s so much more painful now than it was on July 24th, when he was out of my life but still out there somewhere, still alive.

#personal #don’t reblog #I might delete this later but his memorial is this afternoon and I can’t sleep so instead I just wrote for a while #and I just needed to feel like I am sharing these thoughts to someone even if no one ever reads this #this is also why I’ve been effectively mia for the past month cause I’ve been working on processing my dad’s death

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moonb-eam · 5 years ago

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Ok I have a fic question if you’re willing to answer: what did Eliott say to Manon? I wanna know soooo bad!! (What Manon mentions in ch3 of sk8er boi 😅😅)

ahhhhhh omg this is so cute!! 🧡🧡 thank you for asking!!

okay, so i love this question so much that instead of just telling you, i wrote a little scene about it??? i hope it satisfies your curiosity!! 👀

(takes place ~ two weeks after ch. 3)

“Can I ask you something?”

Manon looks up at him from where she’s cutting Daphné’s birthday cake into perfect, even slices. She smiles. “Sure.”

“What did, uh…” Lucas runs a hand over the back of his neck, focusing his gaze on where the F in Bonne Fête has been sliced in half. “Remember when you told me you thought there was something going on between me and Eliott? Because of something he said?”

Manon pokes her tongue into her cheek. “Yeah, I remember.”

She looks like she’s trying not to laugh, and Lucas would normally rather chew tinfoil than give her the satisfaction of being right, but it’s something he’s been wondering about for weeks, and he’s desperate. He drops his head to the counter. “Ugh. Just, what did he say?”

Manon presses her knife back into the cake, cutting another even slice. “I don’t know, Lucas. Maybe it was said to me in confidence. Do you want to break your boyfriend’s trust?”

“Manon.”

She outright laughs now, reaching her free hand over to ruffle Lucas’s hair. “I’m just kidding. I’ll tell you. Although, I should warn you it’s not going to be nearly as juicy as you’re thinking.”

Lucas turns his head to the side, freeing one eye to peer up at her.

“So,” she starts. voice low and warm, “this is months before you two started dating, but it was the sort of thing that just…made me pay attention, you know?”

Months before. The back of Lucas’s neck feels hot. “Okay.”

“It was—well, do you remember that week of classes you missed?”

Lucas does. It was a week at the end of May, when Lucas’s mom had a bad episode, and his dad had called him from Monte Carlo, asking is Lucas could check in on her because he was too busy. Lucas had already been having a stressful month, too preoccupied with his assignments, with the stress of trying to pay rent, with whatever the fuck was going with his heart whenever Eliott Demuary was in the room. He’d become so anxious that he was barely sleeping, and when he went to go see his mom, and saw how poorly she was doing, he went pretty well over the edge. So, he took a week off. He slept for an entire day and spent hours with his mom at the clinic, and got his homework assignments from Yann. It had been a rough time for him, a breaking point from building stress, but it had also been, as the school counsellor says, an important step in him confronting stressors in his life, and healing.

All he says is, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Eliott asked me about it.”

Lucas snaps his head up. “What?”

“Yeah. I ran into him that day when I was leaving school. He was going to the skatepark or whatever, I don’t know.”

Lucas smiles without realizing it, fond.

“I go over to say hi to him, and we’re chatting about classes and whatnot when out of the blue, he asks me, ‘Where’s Lucas?’” She laughs, her imitation of Eliott’s voice exaggeratedly deep and seductive. “I was a bit confused, so I didn’t say anything, and he kept going. He said, ‘He just hasn’t been around this week, and I was wondering if he’s okay.’ And I think that’s nice, so I say, ‘He’s okay, he’s just dealing with some family stuff.’ That’s when he gets kind of shy, you know? And he says, ‘Does he need anything? Can I bring him something?’”

Lucas blinks at her.

“And I’m still kind of confused, but,” she raises an eyebrow at Lucas, “I think I’m starting to get it, so I tell him that he’s sweet, but he doesn’t have to do anything, that we’re all helping you. Because I think you would have lost your shit if I sent Eliott to go check on you.”

Lucas is sure he would have had a coronary, if in the middle of all of that, Eliott Demaury had shown up at his doorstep with a can of soup, or something.

“That was probably a good call,” he tells her.

Manon grins. “I thought so too.” She picks up a stack of paper plates and serves out slices of cake, passing them to Lucas to set aside on the table. “But this is the real thing that made me think. After I tell him that, he seems happy, but before I leave, he says, ‘It seems like Lucas is always taking care of others, doesn’t it? I want to know that someone is taking care of him.’”

And Lucas. He freezes, holding onto a paper plate with a Princess and the Frog design on it, pink icing smeared onto his thumb. “He—” He pauses, swallows. “He said that?”

“Mhm.” Manon takes the plate from him and walks it to the table. “It was the way he said it, too, like he never believed anything in his life more, but he was also so nervous. It was like, just speaking your name, that made him shy. Lucas, from that alone…” She shrugs, rips open a box of plastic forks. “I knew he liked you. Or more than that, I knew he cared about you. At first I thought it was more than you cared about him, but then I saw the way you looked at him. And Emma and Yann started a bet on how long it would take you to bring him up in conversation.”

Lucas makes an undignified sound, a hand coming up to his chest. “They what?”

“You’re not subtle, Lucas. But really, neither is Eliott. You two are made for each other.” Manon turns to face him, holding two plates in her hands. “So, there you go. Now you know what he said.”

Lucas nods. His face is burning, and he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Manon nods, and swans out of the room.

Lucas stays in the kitchen for a while alone, leaning back against the kitchen counter and staring at the wall across the room. He thinks about that week back in May, when everything had been too much for him, and all he wanted was for someone to hold him and say, Lucas, it’s going to be okay.

He hadn’t known that Eliott wanted to be that person the entire time.

I want to know that someone is taking care of him.

He pushes away from the counter, wheeling out of the kitchen and into the throng of people in the hall, some dancing to a remix of a Dolly Parton song, some drinking on the sofa, some standing by the bar, but where is he, where is—

Eliott.

He’s near the stairs, talking to Arthur and drinking a can of Cherry Coke, listening to a story intently, one that involves a lot of hand gestures from Arthur, and is resulting in Eliott laughing so hard his eyes crinkle into little half-moons.

Lucas marches up behind him, making a face at Arthur when they lock eyes, but not stopping until he’s close enough to touch Eliott, close enough to wrap his arms around him from behind, burying his face between Eliott’s shoulder blades.

Eliott startles, then melts back against Lucas, running a hand over his arms. “Hi,” Eliott says, and his voice sounds like the most comfortable bed Lucas has ever slept in.

“Hi,” Lucas mumbles into his back. He kisses him though his t-shirt. “Hi.” He repeats, and kisses him again.

Eliott laughs, craning his neck back. “What’s going on?” When Lucas still doesn’t move, his voice becomes tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

I want to know that someone is taking care of him.

“M’fine,” Lucas says, smushed into Eliott’s back. “I love you.”

Neither of them have said it yet, both tiptoeing across a tightrope wire of do you? i do for weeks. Or at least, Lucas has. He hopes Eliott has too, but even if he doesn’t. Lucas just wants him to know.

“Oh.” Eliott whispers, stilling.

Lucas peaks over his back and sees that Arthur has subtly ditched them for the dance floor, where he’s now grinding back against Yann to Jolene.

Then Eliott is turning in the circle of his arms, and Lucas’s vision is filled with nothing but Eliott: Eliott’s broad shoulders, his narrow waist, his green t-shirt, soft under Lucas’s hands, his beaming smile, his wide, grey eyes.

“Lucas,” Eliott says, and he’s leaning down, pulling Lucas into a searing kiss that makes Lucas’s head spin, makes his knees feel like the melted icing of Daphné’s cake. “Lucas,” Eliott repeats, pulling back. “I love you too, fuck, I love you. Oh my god.” They kiss again, but Eliott is babbling into it, and their teeth clack together. “Lucas, oh my god, I’ve wanted to say that for so long, but I wasn’t sure you did too, and I didn’t want to—”

“I know.” Lucas interrupts him, smiling so wide his face hurts. “I was scared to tell you too, but I...I love you. So much.”

Eliott laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “God. Why are we like this?”

“You know, Manon says we’re made for each other.”

“Does she?”

Lucas nods, tilting his head back so he can see Eliott’s eyes. “She told me something else, too.”

And it’s only a second, but he can see a tightening around Eliott’s eyes, like he’s nervous all over again. “What did she tell you?”

“Something you said, a while ago. It’s okay, I just…” Lucas holds Eliott’s face in his hands, stands on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eliott exhales against him. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

#got a bit carried away asdfjk #but i love that you asked!!!#thank you so much! 💖💖💖#asks #anon #fic tag #elu fic #could possibly file under #prompts #i realize the timeline is completely wrong for daphy’s canon birthday 👀#but we’ll just ignore that asdfjjs

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loquaciousquark · 6 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E49 (Jan. 29, 2019)

Hey hey hey, we’re on the internet! Filling in for @eponymous-rose, it’s time to fake my way through a Talks without having quite caught up yet. What could possibly go wrong?

Tonight’s guests: Sam Riegel & Liam O’Brien!

Announcements: The second season of Between the Sheets debuted last night, ft. everyone’s friend Bobby. It’ll be on Youtube tomorrow morning & is already on the CR Twitch. Next week will feature cinematographer Quyen Tran (aka Sam’s wife!)! Everyone agrees Sam married up. It’ll air Monday night on the CR Twitch.

And now, episode 49: A Game of Names

Brian comes back prefacing some comment with a mention that Matt names the episodes, which Sam immediately derails because he thought Taliesin named them. Poor Matt.

CR Stats: The M9 have cast Disguise Self 97 times. Liam: “What a bunch of lying motherfuckers!” 20 were by Nott; 17 were by Caleb.

Sam’s found it interesting that his in-game persona has been a bit of a facade, but Nott as a character is in an in-between place between who she was and who Nott purports to be. “It might be weird to be called Veth, actually, because it’s just not in the course of her experience in the last couple years. She’s gotten used to the name if not the body.”

Caleb doesn’t like to think about Bren or the old self that came with it; he winged the name “Caleb” the moment he met Nott, but now he has a lot of good memories associated with that name. Brian asks if it was a name of someone from his past; Liam points out you can always retcon anything. Sam’s surprised it was the day he met Nott; Liam says he’d actually been using different names everywhere he went, and Caleb happened to be the one that happened to keep being used by people he never left.

Sam and Liam goggle that they both picked characters with false (very similar) names, that their questlines are so accidentally intertwined, and that they’re so linked despite the fact that they’d decided they’d traveled together right before the first show. Sam wonders who else has fake names.

“Nott the Brave” and “Veth Brenatto” being anagrammed was a purposeful decision out of an accident. He was originally going to be Vix off a gag he made in Campaign 1 re: Vex & Vax, but decided he’d better scrap it & just go with a V name instead as homage. He created the anagrammed names together (without the help of a fantasy name generator, he points out).

Everyone thinks Fjord still has secrets to reveal. “What if it’s Ferrrd?” “What if it’s Fred?”

The water issue for Nott grew out organically in the game. He knew she’d been turned into a goblin (and assumed she’d been killed in the process), but wasn’t sure exactly how she’d died until a few months into the campaign. Then he emailed Matt and asked if it was okay if the way Nott had died had been by drowning, and Matt said, “Yep!”

Liam agonizes over the fact that they all can email Matt, asking if something can be added to character history based on how plots are going in-game, only for him to say “Yes!” and then be silent for six months before walloping someone over the head with a barbed-wire bat. Ha!

Liam reminds everyone that Caleb canonically does not know Beau’s last name. Liam knew it and was talking in third person (even though it was in an accent). It was not meant to be metagamed knowledge.

Liam was surprised by the “Fuck him!” comment but was not surprised Nott had had something chambered, so out of game he recognized this was the beginning of Nott’s story & was ready for it. Caleb still feels like he’s walking a tightrope and juggling plates, but Liam points out it’s his own fault if anything drops.

Everyone marvels at Nott’s use of “Bren” as a false name in episode 2. Sam remembers looking over at Liam as Liam gave him “the weirdest look! Liam looked at me like I had just said the c-word.” Liam: “I was staring holes into your skull.” Sam thought Caleb was judging Nott for being deceptive. Liam sat there for a hot minute wondering if Matt had let something slip, if Caleb was talking in his sleep, if Sam had seen a sheet from Liam’s binder... “Anything but this impossible fucking coincidence.”

GIF of the Week: @winteristboi with an incredibly topical GIF of Liam revealing his name, Sam commenting “That’s why you looked at me,” and including a flashback of the just-mentioned episode 21 moment.

The intertwining of Nott’s & Caleb’s backstories has been fun for both of them. Sam finds Liam an excellent actor and likes doing scenes with him. Liam and Sam both talk about how they actually prefer bumps in the road and complicated relationships instead of everyone being friends & peaceful. They had a conversation months ago about how they’re looking forward to things falling apart within the group. Liam reminisces about how much he loved the bowl argument with Beau. “That’s the best part of the show.”

Nott is very excited that part of Caleb’s backstory is out so that he can get some healing, maybe.

Caleb is closer to Beau than the rest of the M9 at this point. In the moment of his backstory, “he was wanting to borrow her spine. And Beau had rested her hand on his shoulder just moments before, and that was reassuring to him because he knew things could get ugly, so he was looking for that again.”

Very quickly, Nott saw something in Caleb that reminded her of her son. “A boy who was scared and alone in the world and needing someone to take care of him.” Even in game zero, Caleb was knocked out and Nott had to save them, kill the gnolls, and get them out of there singlehandedly.

Sam finds out onscreen that halflings live much longer than humans. It’s hilarious. “I thought they lived the same as humans!” He’s worked it out with Matt that Veth is not older than Caleb, who is 32. Veth got married at 20ish (childbearing age), spent a couple years happily married, goblins intervened, escaped, and is now about 25 years old (a young mom). “Similarly, as I understand it, when you are reincarnated, you are given an adult body, so goblin Nott is 7-8 years old.” Liam gasps that if she doesn’t get changed back, she’s taken a 200 year lifespan and violently compressed it to only a fraction.

Many of Veth’s quirks (collecting things, general nervousness, and enjoyment of wine) were badly exacerbated and heightened in goblin form. Where she enjoyed a nip of sherry wine before, she’s now a raging alcoholic. Where she enjoyed collecting baubles before; now she’s compulsively stealing. She was a nervous Nellie before; now she’s ratcheted anxiety. Sam discussed this with Matt. Liam again: “Her lifespan was condensed down into this dense little ball; her habits were condensed into a dense little ball too!” Sam, brightly, dancing: “It’s a saaad episode!”

Liam’s asked about his arm-scratching as Caleb. (Sam’s stunned; he never realized!) In Liam’s mind, the scars are extremely faint and old, and it’s cold in Wildemount. He doesn’t imagine them as large or even visible gashes unless you knew where to look.

Sam envisions his goblins as just generally amped up. Not angry, but murderous. Sam also has been playing it that Veth has been becoming a bit more goblin & less halfling over time just because she’s being overwhelmed by the physiology. It would have been different if she’d been in a different body. She’s very eager to get back, but she is also aware that her “perceived vehicle” who might be able to get her back to her original form is not quite ready yet. She’s anxious for that to get cooking.

Early in the campaign, when Caleb wakes up from a fight and screams, “Take them out!” he was talking about the crystals Trent put in his arms.

Fanart of the Week: @queddajaw with a gorgeous Nott drowning portrait.

Nott has a general tendency to want to see people connect (Astrid’s letter, Jester & Caleb). She knows time with a loved one is not eternal. It’s not really a projection of her own relationship. Augh.

Caleb didn’t give the whole truth because a) it’s too humiliating & heartbreaking to talk about and b) the first confession to Beau/Nott was only out of need, and he was just excruciatingly lonely. He’s gotten it out once and knows that it’s completely awful, and he doesn’t want to dump it on the rest of the group unnecessarily, such as “sunflower” Jester. Liam also didn’t feel it was all pertinent information in the moment since he didn’t want to trample on Nott after she’d just bared her soul to the group. Liam mimes opening a door over Sam’s face: “But alsooo myyy story is super tragic!”

Sam thinks VM was more familiar with each other at this point in their campaign, but not as vulnerable/connected. It’s a very different story.

What makes Sam keep picking goblins as backstory villains? “They’re gross.” Actually, it’s more coincidental this time as Liam was the one who picked his goblin race. Sam talks about how he’s gotten tweets wanting to know why goblins can’t be nice, is he racist against goblins? Sam: “Yes. In your campaign, you can do what you want. Veth might be horribly misguided!” but in his/Veth’s mind at the moment, there’s nothing redeemable about them. She is curious about the butler goblin, but didn’t really get a chance to talk to him.

Caleb is very relieved they’re not going to Rexxentrum.

Sam thinks it was a good time for Nott’s reveal. Caleb had thought it would take longer for him. Matt had asked Sam how long he wanted to play it out, if he wanted the reveal to be early or late game, and Sam told him it would be fine for him even if it never came out in the whole campaign. He’s excited to see how this will change the group dynamic for everyone.

Liam comments that he always tries to make character decisions that feel true, even if it leads to things that are sad.

Sam did tell his kids how Nott became a goblin. As soon as he was done, his daughter asked him to tell them the story one more time. I have flashbacks to Travis saying “Let’s do it again” at the end of C1.

Sam hasn’t given up on the shirt gag, but he gave away 20 shirts for a donation prize. When he has the shirt, he will wear it. Sam also points out that he’s also tracking the facial hair from C1 too.

After Dark: Secret Secret Names Edition:

Everyone marvels again at how cool Quyen is. Sam tangents full circle into a discussion of Mr. Yuck. Brian tries to get us back on track talking about drinks, and I don’t even know what’s happening right now. Sam drinks a (I think!) Miller Lite on screen and almost throws it back up. You dramatic fool.

Quyen is a big wine nerd, just like Sam. “Now, we enjoy a burger and a beer once in a while, we’re not awful people.” Then he tells a story about how when people bring them wine bottles at their homes as gifts his wife has a terrible poker face if she doesn’t approve of the wine. Don’t buy her wine, is what I’m getting from this.

They discuss Mame Drop from today, which featured some laser discs and old games.

Nott’s favorite reality show would be whatever is the opposite of Hoarders, like maybe Storage Wars. Dani suggests Caleb might be into dating shows. Brian takes great offense at the word “smut” as a descriptor and talks about his 30-person Bachelor watching parties. Dani suggests he [Caleb] might be into the sordid melodrama of that and Real Housewives. Liam: “Tell me more about my character. You too, internet.”

This entire segment has devolved into an almost rabid discussion of reality shows and I legitimately cannot keep up with it. GBBO has come up, cat judging shows, documentaries about Scientology...

Liam & Sam try to have a man date once a year where they have a good dinner and glass of wine together and catch up on their years.

Travis apparently really got into David Blaine like eight years after he was relevant. Brian puts out a call to send him David Blaine gifs. “He’ll know exactly why.”

We end with an incredible moment of tiny Sam’s head being shopped live onto the cutout of his Emmy acceptance. “We go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard, hard, hard.”

And we’re out! Have a lovely evening, everyone, and is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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tunehummed · 5 years ago

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THE JONATHAN LARSON PROJECT. — 458 sentences from the 2019 album the jonathan larson project, conceived by jennifer ashley tepper! change pronouns as needed. trigger warning for mentions/discussion of abuse, sexism, homophobia, and oil spills.

GREENE STREET.

‛ i found the sun on a midwinter day. ’

‛ on a backstreet down in soho, there was snow on the ground. ’

‛ instinct told me to get out and search for a day. ’

‛ there goes a chic, chic baby on her way to a coup d’état. ’

‛ there goes a fella like me lookin’ for his day. ’

‛ there goes a boy in his mama’s arms. ’

‛ you can say what you can say. ’

‛ there goes a lover sittin’ and writin’ this song. ’

‛ i’m sittin’ on greene street! ’

‛ and i don’t mean money, honey. ’

‛ watchin’ the world waltz by. ’

‛ laughing the day away. ’

‛ there goes a man with a camera whose sunglasses shade his eyes. ’

‛ there goes a man who seems that he knows a star. ’

‛ there goes a tourist who’s scared to answer me. ’

‛ there goes a dancer too scared to answer me, an artist who winked as she passed by. ’

‛ an artist who winked as she passed by! ’

‛ all these people out in the street, too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ everybody i see walks right by. ’

‛ would someone please look me in the eye? ’

ONE OF THESE DAYS.

‛ another failure, another flop. ’

‛ i should try another hobby, this has gotta stop. ’

‛ i feel like a tightrope walker without the wire. ’

‛ one more disaster, one more dud. ’

‛ it could be worse! at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood, though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ maybe it’s luck! what is luck, how could this be luck? ’

‛ no one’s luck could be this bad! ’

‛ maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s time… ’

‛ one of these days i’ll find a way. ’

‛ i’ll make it to the top, leave ‘em all back in the dust. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘that boy will never stop!’ ’

‛ that day’s gonna be one of these days. ’

‛ don’t understand it, it isn’t fair. ’

‛ every time i try to prove myself results just aren’t there. ’

‛ i feel like a mountain climber without the peak. ’

‛ my sister laughs at me, says i’m odd. ’

‛ my mom and pop think i’m a punishment from god. ’

‛ i get looks from my neighbors that seem to say, ‘there goes that FREAK!’ ’

‛ sometimes i wish - no, i don’t - yes, i do, i wish! ’

‛ i wish that somehow i’d been born dumb. ’

‛ then i feel that something may change. ’

‛ i’ll rise above the throng. ’

‛ they’ll be amazed at who they see. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘i knew it all along.’ ’

‛ one of these days that’s what will be. ’

‛ god, can it happen today? ’

‛ maybe there’s been a mistake. ’

‛ let’s trade a failure for one minor miracle. ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one! ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one, at least in some one person’s eyes. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘you are my only one.’ ’

‛ i’m gonna fly, i’m gonna touch the sky. ’

‛ i’m gonna win, i’m gonna sin, i’m gonna never die. ’

‛ gonna glow, gonna flow, gonna click, gonna stick. ’

‛ gonna gain, reach, conquer, gonna make ‘em sick. ’

‛ gonna triumph, prevail, sail, razzle dazzle, glitter gleam. ’

‛ gonna see my face in every house on every screen. ’

‛ i’ll be the hero, i’ll change the world. ’

‛ and maybe in the end i’ll even get the girl! ’

‛ gotta believe it. ’

‛ i can see through the haze. ’

‛ a miracle’s in for a landing, gonna get here, gonna happen one of these days. ’

BREAK OUT THE BOOZE.

‛ the wolf’s at the door and i hear talk of war. ’

‛ somebody break out the booze. ’

‛ let’s grab some hooch. ’

‛ let’s get goopy and smooch. ’

‛ forget all this sob sister news. ’

‛ the world’s gettin’ lousy, so let’s go get drowsy. ’

‛ yes, right here and now-sy. ’

‛ let’s bow-wow these blues. ’

‛ the stars look poetic. the moon’s copacetic. ’

‛ crank up your jalopy and then we’ll get sloppy. ’

‛ we’ll call up our bookie and say to him: ‘cookie, lookie, we’ve nothing to lose.’ ’

‛ the times ain’t so jake, every bum’s on the take. ’

‛ got no cake, got no steak, just this ache in my shoes. ’

‛ the moon’s looking cheesy. your eyes say, ‘i’m easy.’ ’

‛ oh – it’s swell to be alive. ’

‛ oh – it’s the real mccoy! ’

‛ oh – give a yell, we’ll survive. ’

‛ waiter! who needs a mug? give me a bottle or a jug. ’

‛ the government’s awful, so let’s be unlawful. ’

‛ throw out the compass and let’s make a rumpus. ’

‛ this town’s getting screwy, so let’s go kablooey. ’

‛ it’s true if we get boo-hoo-y, we lose. ’

‛ let’s make it strange – hell! let’s get naked, angel. ’

OUT OF MY DREAMS.

‛ out of my dreams. ’

‛ out all night, kisses on the street. ’

‛ sidewalk, dance, september heat. ’

‛ stay in bed, love all day. ’

‛ fire, passion, every single way. ’

‛ go to work, mind on you. anticipating what we’re gonna do. ’

‛ nasty words on the telephone. ’

‛ alarm goes off, i’m in bed alone. ’

‛ you left my life. stay out of my dreams. ’

‛ thursday, friday, 3 am. ’

‛ buses, subways. us versus them. ’

‛ winter chill, skies look dark. ’

‛ monkey business in central park. ’

‛ coffee, cocoa, more whipped cream. ’

‛ vodka, brandy. was it just a dream? ’

‛ window shopping, christmas day. ’

‛ i wake up, all that was yesterday! ’

‛ try to stay busy. hard to stay afloat. ’

‛ will i be sunk by this lump in my throat? ’

‛ can’t think, can’t act, can’t find new roads. ’

‛ think i see you everywhere, my heart explodes. ’

‛ will i ever laugh? will i ever be the same? ’

‛ i’m tossing, i’m turning, i’m calling your name. ’

‛ maybe you’ll come back. that thought makes me weep. ’

‛ the only thing i do is i go back to sleep. ’

‛ stay out of my dreams. get out! ’

VALENTINE’S DAY.

‛ he was a greeting card candy cupid. ’

‛ there was a blizzard, it was twenty below. ’

‛ she was 15, clean, lonely and stupid, and as pure as the virgin snow. ’

‛ he pulled her in from the storm and the fire was warm. she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ beat her till she’s black and blue and gray. ’

‛ draw a little heart. draw a little arrow. draw a little blood. ’

‛ v-v-v-valentine’s day. ’

‛ red wine, waterford crystal. chocolate kisses and lace. ’

‛ knives and chains and a pistol mounted on a wall, like scars on a face. ’

‛ he said he liked to play rough as he locked the handcuff. she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ february winter in her heart. ’

‛ i said i’d show her normal love. she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ now her fashion is basically leather. favorite color is basically red. ’

‛ and her passions change like the weather, as she dances from bed to bed to bed. ’

‛ and she feels like a fool, but she likes her men cruel. ’

‛ i doubt she’ll be cool till she’s dead. ’

WHITE MALE WORLD.

‛ bryant gumbel, decaf coffee, french vanilla ultra slim. ’

‛ pert shampoo with extra body, clinique, neutrogena. ’

‛ hey, madonna. ho, madonna, hey. ’

‛ stay-free, yeast-x, estee lauder. ’

‛ estee lauder, revlon, calvin klein’s obsession. ’

‛ advil, ultra-brite, no nonsense. ’

‛ diamonds are forever. ’

‛ it’s just another day. just another day. ’

‛ just another day in the white male world. ’

‛ salad bar, no! candy bar. ’

‛ yes. candy bar, no! salad bar. ’

‛ diet coke, no! diet rite. ’

‛ cellulite or cancer? ’

‛ yes sir, no sir. ’

‛ holly hunter, melanie griffith, meryl streep. ’

‛ spandex, reeboks. ’

‛ taylor dayne, stairmaster, oprah winfrey. ’

‛ let’s cut down a jungle. ’

‛ let’s go start a war. ’

‛ let’s go rape a co-ed. ’

‛ what a lovely thing to do! ’

‛ let’s drink beer and bust some heads. ’

‛ let’s all vote for jesse helms. ’

‛ let’s string up a faggot and a black guy and a jew. ’

‛ evian water, black lace push-up, billiard table, dirty words. ’

‛ skinny blue jeans, skimpy t-shirt. ’

‛ husband hunting, binge & purge. ’

‛ open your mouth and open your legs and open your purse. now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ wait! don’t stop! too late, he’s finished. ’

‛ what if men got pregnant? ’

LA DI DA RAP.

‛ we all should be drinkin’ to abraham lincoln and get stinkin’ drunk in his name. ’

‛ it’s a good thing he’s dead cause he’d cry his eyes red, hang his head if he saw this campaign. ’

‛ singing hey la di la di, hey la di da day. ’

‛ lincoln! here’s mud in your eye. ’

‛ are we past our prime? or is this the time to climb from the slime, make america great. ’

‛ are we so hollow that we blindly follow and swallow whatever they put on our plate? ’

‛ just sing no! ’

‛ to handlers, sound bytes, madison avenue, cynical hollywood, la di da pictures. ’

‛ tabloids, images, wrapped up facts in relation, slim control. ’

‛ la di da you drama la di da de da de la di da. ’

‛ pour some ales for old roger ailes and danny quayle’s his protégé. ’

‛ in ‘96 his looks, his tricks make tricky dick’s crime passe. ’

‛ i’ve had it up to here. ’

‛ here’s mud in your eye! ’

IRON MIKE.

‛ on a starry black night at the base of mount hogan, beyond horsetail creek and anderson bay. ’

‛ from the port of valdez sailed a ship, bound for long beach. ’

‛ over one million barrels of crude stowed away. ’

‛ to the left of the wheel in the bridge of the upper deck under the compass, was he. ’

‛ navigation computer, the captain and fisherman’s friend who could steer perfectly. ’

‛ they called him iron mike. ’

‛ in the dead of the night he steered the way through the darkness. ’

‛ iron mike didn’t see the red light on the reef. ’

‛ he’d been known to throw back one or two. ’

‛ yet no one thought twice when he set autopilot and retired below with the crew. ’

‛ from the two am stillness came the cry of the third mate. ’

‛ someone better go wake up the chief! ’

‛ yet by then it was too late. ’

‛ the starboard tanks had 12 foot gashes cut out by bligh reef. ’

‛ the forget-me-nots cried and the salmon all died and the fisherman wore black armbands. ’

‛ and the spokesmen from exxon said, ‘no major damage,’ though six million gallons remain in the sands. ’

‛ and from rocky point down to mount freemantle, you can still see the black film on the soil. ’

‛ and the echoes rebound throughout prince william sound of half frozen animals, choking in oil. ’

‛ who’s at the helm of this ship of state? ’

‛ we’ve in for some rough navigation. ’

‛ we have the power – the hour is late. ’

‛ gotta get tough and clean up the nation. ’

‛ black rainbows of exxon lightgrade again flowed, like hot fudge in a big apple spill. ’

‛ the detection machine had malfunctioned quite often, repair procedure so hard to enforce. ’

‛ and down on prall’s island, the cleanup begins. ’

‛ and the horror continues till we chart our own course. ’

‛ it’s the dead of the night. ’

‛ we can steer a new way through the darkness. ’

‛ we must see the light for relief. ’

FIND THE KEY.

‛ she’s walking, he’s sitting. ’

‛ he plays a dark c-minor chord. ’

‛ it’s like the keyboard is his heart. ’

‛ he hears the clock, he hugs the cat. ’

‛ he hugs the cat… no. he kicks the cat. ’

‛ he pumps the volume higher. ’

‛ a fire’s just about to start. ’

‛ why can’t, why can’t i? ’

‛ why can’t i, why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ door closes – he freezes. ’

‛ he sees it’s hard to end duets. ’

‛ he lets his fingers feel the way. ’

‛ he loves her, he’s lost her. ’

‛ he’s hearing melancholy strings that sing the things that he can’t say. ’

‛ he can’t imagine what he should have said. ’

‛ it’s all been said and sounds cliché. ’

‛ he’s at the bridge between his head which says, ‘it’s dead,’ and his heart which says, ‘don’t let her get away.’ ’

‛ she’s gone now. he’s singing. ’

‛ he’s singing. he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he looks around – this can’t be real. ’

‛ this can’t be real. ’

‛ depression, a dark progression. ’

‛ why can he only sing it? ’

‛ what will it take to make him feel? ’

‛ and then somehow it ends. ’

HOSING THE FURNITURE.

‛ hello my lucite coffee table. someone spill a little milk on you? ’

‛ tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. ’

‛ one – more – twist! that’s better now. ’

‛ silly little me, me, me, me, me, me, me! ’

‛ i’m singing in the living room. ’

‛ what’s the time? fifteen minutes. ’

‛ pour the bleach, put the finishing touches on the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. still outside. ’

‛ my nails! my god! a chip! ’

‛ tom likes wonder bread with turkey. ’

‛ tom was preoccupied last night. ’

‛ is it me? is it – ’

‛ do i have enough milk? ’

‛ oh stain stain, down the drain. ’

‛ i can see myself in the coffee table, pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ i’m as pretty as the coffee table. we’re so pretty! ’

‛ we’re so pretty! ’

‛ ah! what? you scared me. ’

‛ who were you talking to? ’

‛ who? no one. ’

‛ what’s all this? ’

‛ why are you acting so weird? ’

‛ you know i’m hosing the furniture. ’

‛ and when i hose, i sing to myself. ’

‛ who do you think cleans up? some elf? ’

‛ no sweeping – no mops. in no time it’s wheeeeee! ’

‛ when i’m hosing the furniture i’m free. ’

‛ i’m free – i’m free! ’

‛ now run along and play – i’m concentrating. ’

‛ you know your father likes to come home to that ‘just decorated look’... ’

‛ raindrops are falling on my couch! ’

‛ what’s the time? thirty minutes! ’

‛ martinis, cut the flowers for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. hasn’t been fed. ’

‛ my hair! my god! a gray hair! ’

‛ tom likes onion cocktails. ’

‛ tom nodded off again last night. ’

‛ i get treated like dirt! ’

‛ i can see myself in the drapery. ’

‛ am i pretty as i was on my wedding day? ’

‛ am i pretty as the drapery? are we pretty? ’

‛ are we pretty? ’

‛ don’t you care? ’

‛ do i look mad? my happiness grows! ’

‛ who needs dad when i’ve got the hose! ’

‛ this house is a reflection of me – modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ in everything i see my reflection. ’

‛ do i really look so simply pathetic? ’

‛ what? pull the trigger! ’

‛ soon it’s gonna rain on the bookshelf. ’

‛ what’s the time? 120 minutes. ’

‛ dry turkey, look relaxed for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. the dog died last year! ’

‛ my blouse! my god! a crumb! ’

‛ i can see myself in the television. ’

‛ i was pretty on my wedding day. ’

‛ i was pretty as a television. we were pretty. ’

‛ we were pretty. ’

‛ a minor flood never hurt anyone! ’

‛ sometimes i wish this hose were a gun. ’

‛ just joking – see, i’m laughing. ’

PURA VIDA

‛ we are the people. ’

‛ we are the people who float on the river. ’

‛ we run up to the hill, we run down to the water. ’

‛ birds laugh and the sun, she smiles. ’

‛ and the trees, they dance in the wind. ’

‛ we race against time. ’

‛ we race for pure life. ’

‛ we need the people. ’

‛ we need the people who live on the river. ’

‛ find a pace, find a speed. ’

‛ nowhere to stop in big water. ’

‛ fish fly and the rocks play games and the trees sing out in the wind. ’

‛ sing in harmony. ’

‛ can we endure this race? ’

‛ can this race endure? ’

‛ we need the people who live in the forest. ’

‛ ‘ust there be finish lines? ’

‛ can’t the world drum like the water? ’

‛ the rivers will dry, and the birds will die. ’

‛ and the ghosts of the trees will cry out in the wind. ’

THE TRUTH IS A LIE.

‛ the berlin wall wasn’t destroyed, it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick and reconstructed on capitol hill, on the congressional floor. ’

‛ the money spent on one stealth bomber couldn’t wipe out homelessness. ’

‛ george bush never said, ‘read my lips.’ ’

‛ the peace dividend didn’t pay for the war. ’

‛ don’t look out the window. don’t go to the mirror. don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ martin luther king and the kennedys were fictional players in a mini-series, just like charles manson and princess grace. ’

‛ bensonhurst was a publicity stunt. ’

‛ aids is a myth, first amendment’s fake. ’

‛ the sun revolves around the earth and the holocaust never took place. ’

‛ the truth is a lie! ’

‛ love does not exist between consenting members of the same sex. ’

‛ two plus two is five. ’

‛ the human body is revolting. ’

‛ we always will thrive. ’

‛ children don’t learn to hate from their parents. they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ the moon is cheese and everyone should own a gun. ’

‛ women ask to be black and blue and pregnant their entire lives. ’

‛ the earth is flat and the white man knows what’s best for everyone. ’

‛ don’t you know what you might see? ’

‛ don’t look at the picture. don’t go to the theater. don’t you know what you will see? ’

RHAPSODY.

‛ i turn a corner, see a rat in the rubble as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ i step on some budweiser glass. a limousine drives by. ’

‛ a rich man turns a corner, sees a rat in the rubble. ’

‛ he raises his smile glass window and reads the wall street journal. ’

‛ sky’s not free. river’s not free. i’m not free. life’s not free. ’

‛ life’s not free in the city. ’

‛ i’m told i too must wear a tie or they’ll fire me from my boring nothing job. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment, though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ so many people hounded to the pound. ’

‛ so many people collared to the dollar. ’

‛ okay, freedom is a state of mind. i agree. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. ’

‛ with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ you forget that there’s earth below the subway and beyond the ‘scrapers, there’s sky. ’

‛ i plan a day in the country with you. ’

‛ having gotten home from work last night at 12:30 am. ’

‛ having fallen asleep last night at 3:30 am because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ the city never sleeps. ’

‛ as the phone rang this morning, your sweet was calling, i looked at that clock. ’

‛ how i hate that damn clock. ’

‛ i excuse myself from our date. ’

‛ see, i had to be back by mid-afternoon. ’

‛ and i know these are lame excuses and i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i know it’s important, but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me with a rolled-up new york times. ’

‛ and this leash keeps tanking on my tie. ’

‛ i love ‘rhapsody in blue’ too. it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ and only the rats, the roaches, the rubble and the rich men are free in the city. ’

SOS.

‛ this may be my final message. ’

‛ this may be the final bow. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ i hear footsteps down the hall. ’

‛ don’t know how much they’ll allow. ’

‛ if you’re waiting for the last reel, i think the time is now. ’

‛ i think the time is now. ’

‛ sos, oh, savior! ’

‛ sos, oh, hero! ’

‛ sos, messiah! ’

‛ yes, oh yes, oh! ’

‛ sos, oh jesus! ’

‛ sos, oh buddhal! ’

‛ sos, emmanuel! ’

‛ this may be my final hour. ’

‛ this may be the dying day. ’

‛ though they never taught me why in school, i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ they are right outside the door. ’

‛ don’t know why they keep on stalling. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before, but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ sos, almighty! ’

‛ sos, oh yahwah! ’

‛ sos, oh mighty zeus! ’

‛ sos, oh allah! ’

‛ does anybody hear? ’

‛ does anybody hear? answer me now if you do. ’

‛ answer me now if you do. ’

‛ is anybody there? ’

‛ is anybody there? i need you. ’

‛ i need you. ’

‛ this may be the curtain call. ’

‛ does it matter anymore? ’

‛ i asked why. that’s why i say make a try. it’s only a play. ’

‛ that’s why i say make a try. ’

‛ it’s only a play. ’

LOVE HEALS.

‛ like a breath of midnight air. ’

‛ like a lighthouse, like a prayer. ’

‛ like a flicker and the flare the sky reveals. ’

‛ like a walk along the shore that you’ve walked a thousand times before. ’

‛ like the ocean roars, love heals. ’

‛ there are those who shield their heart. ’

‛ those who quit before they start. ’

‛ who’ve frozen up the part of them that feels. ’

‛ in the dark they’ve lost their sight, like a ship without a star in the night. ’

‛ but it’s alright. love heals. ’

‛ love heals when pain’s too much to bear. ’

‛ when you reach out your hand and only the wind is there. ’

‛ when life’s unfair, when things like us are not meant to be. love heals. ’

‛ when you feel so small like a grain of sand, like nothing at all. ’

‛ when you look out at the sea. that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where you’ll find me. ’

‛ you’ll find me. ’

‛ so if you fear the storm ahead as you lie awake in bed. ’

‛ no one there to stroke your head and your mind reels. ’

‛ if your face is salty wet and you’re drowning in regret, just don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget love heals. ’

‛ love heals. ’

PIANO.

‛ when the world is a constant jumble and a wall or two decides to tumble. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line, somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get through to you in time. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul again. ’

‛ you saved my soul again. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got soul. ’

‛ but i got soul. ’

‛ piano, save my soul. ’

#askbox meme #rp meme #sentence starters #lyric starters #mine.#mine: lyrics.

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