#I did not reread Death Masks but I remember there was a tree house part. <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[drawsdenfiles]

Carpenter’s Treehouse

[smoshvalentines2018-blog]

Contained Sunshine - Fanfic Exchange

​written for: @immayoutubebitch Part of the Smosh Valentine's Day Fanfic Exchange - please note this account is not the person who wrote this fic. Check back within the next day for the author reveal.

Title: Contained Sunshine Pairing: Courtney/Shayne, mentions of Noah/Keith Rating: E Keywords: dystopia au, dark, fluff Summary: When the world is overrun with water and mold, Courtney and her friends try to find their little bits of sunshine wherever they can in order to survive. Things are dangerous, but Courtney risks it all just for a moment to see Shayne smile.

- - - -

Courtney looked up the fire escape, sighing. It was climbing with vines and on the first step she felt it whisper, as if asking to give way into the graying green. She double checked the address that Olivia had scribbled on her hand and squinted, rereading the falling off paint on the side of the brick. It had to be the place, but she also wished she had told her that she’d have to climb the whole thing so she could have at least brought a hair tie so she could try to avoid getting tetanus from the rust without having to get her hair in her eyes.

It would be worth it; Courtney told herself as she swung her body up and began to climb. Seeing Shayne’s face when she brought it back would make it all okay. The fire escape moaned underneath her and she did her best to tread carefully, patting the railing to say thank you once she was at the top. She paused for a couple of minutes to look out over their decaying city. She missed the sun.

It seemed to be only a few weeks ago that they were all just housemates here. She could remember the way the sun looked, streaming in through the large bay windows of the penthouse she and the crew all shared. It was supposed to be a new beginning, not a death sentence. She remembered the face Keith had pulled when Noah had first suggested they move to a top floor in the midst of the Metropolis. “A penthouse is a bad shelter, y’all know that,” he had said. Noah had wrapped his arm around the other boy’s shoulder and leaned against him, giving him a devilish look.

The first week in the penthouse, Keith never left. He would stand on the balcony every morning and stare out into the sun, claiming that Icarus just didn’t know how to properly care for his skin.

But now, the sun was gone and the water never seemed to stop flowing. It had started with the rain, but then the rain had flooded the sewers and the tunnels under the Metropolis. It was fine at first, even a little bit beautiful. The earth was starting to retake the city, starting to tear apart foundations and replace them with plants and seeds. The water made everything spread and soon, it was all green. When it first started, the five of them had sat up on the balcony at night, trying to catch the rain water in bowls and buckets. Maybe if they could help things to grow, they would be rewarded. It was a silly and naive idea, but any silly and naive idea that Noah pitched always seemed to sound somewhat feasible.

Keith was right; a penthouse was a bad shelter for all of them and the government was less kind to a group of wannabe actors that hadn’t contributed the last four years. They were lucky they could find the Den at all.

Courtney blinked at the overcast sky, wondering how long the Den would last if the rain didn’t let up like the predictions had said. Turning away, she went back to the task at hand. The building must have flooded pretty early on. She could tell by the smell and the way her feet sunk into the floor like it was already collapsing into the marsh. She would have to move quickly.

Trying her best to ignore the smell, she explored quietly until she found the small parcel she was looking for. Tucking it into her bag, she escaped as quickly as she could, wanting to be out of the gray.

Once inside the Den, she shucked off her backpack, dropping it onto the cold, concrete floor. “Did you find it?” Olivia asked

Courtney nodded, sitting down next to her friend. “Yeah, but you could have warned me.” She took off her boots, groaning at the mud that covered her socks. It would take at least a week to get all of the wetness out of them.

“If I had warned you, you wouldn’t have gone.” Olivia gave her an apologetic grin. Courtney shot her a look in return but didn’t say anything, knowing she was right.

“Where’s Shayne anyway?” Courtney asked instead.

“He and Noah went into the tunnels to see what they could find.” Her friend stretched before turning back to her again. “Keith hasn’t left his room, of course, but I said I’d stay in case he did.”

Courtney was about to reply when the door scraped open, revealing two figures dressed in all black, hoods low over their faces.

The smaller figure pulled off a mask and Noah breathed a sigh of relief, tossing it to the ground. “The good news is the market seems to be swimming.” He grinned at his own joke, ever the optimist. He pulled a small jar out of the pocket of his bomber jacket. He placed it on the turned over dresser they used as a coffee table. A soft yellow light glowed inside and for a moment, all four of the friends seemed to be entranced. Courtney thought of butterflies and days outside, barefoot. She thought of her parents’ house and the old beech tree she used to climb.

Shayne sighed as he ripped off his own mask. He stepped forward and grabbed the jar, giving it back to Noah. “It isn’t fair that you always show them but never give them more than a taste. Either bring enough back for everyone or just say it was a good trip.”

Slightly hurt, Noah tucked the jar back into his jacket pocket. “Thanks for coming with me,” he mumbled to Shayne before he headed for the stairs to Keith’s room.

Courtney retreated to her room and heard footsteps following close by. Shayne leaned against the door frame, one foot up against the wood to keep himself stable. “Where were you today? You could have come with us, you know.”

“I was busy.” Courtney brought her backpack over to the mattress on the floor and sat. She looked up at him, patting the space next to her. “I had to get something.”

“Oh?” Shayne’s curiosity overtook him and he sat next to Courtney, hips turned toward her. He pushed a hand through his hair, moving the falling pieces out of his eyes. It got longer every day. Courtney understood that it didn’t matter anymore, but she wished he would shave or at least let her trim his hair for him. It was meaningless now but she missed the way her friend didn’t look like he was drowning in his own blonde locks.

Carefully, Courtney pulled the book out of the bag. She looked down at it for a moment, admiring the cover and the pages. Then, unceremoniously, she pushed it into Shayne’s lap. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Shayne looked down at the book and the entire conversation that had started it all replayed in Courtney’s mind. When the world slowly began to dismantle, Shayne had confided in Courtney that the one thing she would miss more than anything was a book that didn’t contain mold or water bound pages. He loved the cracking noise of dry pages, he had said, loved that enough physical touch could force the textured fabric of a hardcover book to nothing but a smooth vessel.

“It’s a book of poetry,” Courtney said softly, wanting to explain without pulling the other out of whatever happy place he had disappeared into. He hoped it was sunny there in his head.

“By Tennyson, I know,” Shayne said. His hand combed across the cover. “Have you ever read the poem Ulysses?”

Courtney shook her head no. “Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—/That ever with a frolic welcome took/The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed/Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old,” he recited in a soft voice, flipping through the pages. They gave a lovely flittering sound, like wings beating in the air.

He looked over at her after a minute and grinned, his eyes brimming with tears. The world didn’t need any more water, but Shayne’s eyes were always a pair of oceans that Courtney never minded drowning in, night after night. “Do you want me to read it to you?” He asked gently.

Courtney wiped a few of his tears away with the edge of her sleeve, wondering why all of the water that flooded the world could have been tears from a friend that had simply been moved by a gift. “Yes please,” she smiled in return and laid back, eyes gazing out of the skylight. The clouds were heavy and gray.

When Shayne began to read, Courtney closed her eyes and the inside of her eyelids shone red and warm, like the sunlight that used to stream in through the windows of the penthouse.

[feadae]

For the Fairytale Asks: Muse, Spark, Roses, Castle, Swan Lake, candlelight, princess, sweet daisies, and dwarf.

Ooh wow you flatter me!

Muse: How do you like to relax?As long as I’m sitting by myself somewhere without anyone trying to get my attention, I’m fairly relaxed, but ideally I’d be in the little Hobbit-hole I’ve constructed for myself under my dorm bed, reading, writing, or watching something, in pajamas, with my blanket with classic book quotes on it. The basement of the university library is really nice, too, because you’re required to be stone silent down there, and it’s got a bunch of different kinds of seating for different studying needs, and that seating includes small couches with three walls, so you can pull a small desk in front of yourself and only have distractions in front of you, or you can pull two of the pods together and have a lovely nap (which is not actually that uncommon).

Spark: Favorite film?I’m really bad at picking favorites, so if I’m not careful, I’m just going to list my entire movie library… I usually default to The Princess Bride or Dead Poets Society though, and DPS is a particular favorite at the moment.

Roses: What fictional universe would you like to live in?D e c i s i o n sIf we’re talking living during the events of the book/movie/what have you and being involved in them, then probably Lord of the Rings, just because I’d trust the Fellowship with my dang life and I’m already basically a Hobbit anyway. Or maybe Stardust, because I just really love that movie and being a sky pirate would be fun as hell and also Charlie CoxIf we’re talking living day-to-day, not interacting with any of the characters, but living in the universe, then probably Harry Potter, post-Second-Wizarding-War, just because magic.If we’re talking in between, interacting with the characters and going on adventures of your own, rather than the plot of the book/movie/what have you, then probably CotIG, because it’s got an enormous cast of interesting characters, and I love them all, and good Lord, what I wouldn’t give to live in Tamerlane House for even a day.I’ve thought about this too much

Castle: Favorite fictional character?D E C I S I O N SThere are a whole ton of characters whom I adore, and there’s no way I’m choosing a most favorite from all of them, but a good default answer would be Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter. Say what you will about HP and JKR, and chances are I’ll agree, but I’ll never be able to ditch Harry Potter, because it was a hugely formative part of my childhood (seriously, one of my favorite memories is a few months after Deathly Hallows was published–a family tradition from the time I discovered HP in second grade was for my mom to read the books out loud to the whole family a chapter or two at a time–we had just reached the Battle of Hogwarts, it was a Friday night, and my brother and I were about to go to bed, but we wanted to know what happened next, so Mom made us a deal: we would get ready for bed and she would sit out in the hall with Dad and read while we got ready (our rooms and the bathroom we used were all within 20 feet of each other and it was a narrow hallway). So that was what we did, and when we were both ready for bed, we sat down next to Mom and Dad while Mom finished the chapter, and then she kept going, and we didn’t complain because hey we got to find out what happened next and we got to stay up late, and that was how we finished the series–sitting on the floor of the hallway, all four of us, in our pajamas, and Mom said, “The scar hadn’t pained him in 19 years. All was well.” and closed the book and we just sat there with the best Post-Book Bittersweetness I’ve ever experienced). And I’m pretty Hermione-ish now, but when I was a little kid, I was basically a carbon copy of Young Hermione (personality-wise), and I dressed as Hermione for Halloween for four years in a row, and she’s been my favorite character for a long time. As I grew up and got used to the fact that you don’t have to have just one favorite anything, my Favorite Character roster expanded exponentially, and I grew to love Ginny and Luna as much as I love Hermione, because they’re all badasses in their own ways and they each have valuable lessons that they taught little Elementary-School Me, that I carry with me to this day, and I swear I will listen to any critiques you may have about JKR’s writing, but these characters are way too near and dear to my heart for me to eschew HP altogether.(And yes I realize I could have answered this question with “prolly Hermione lol” and done the trick but that’s not how I function)

Swan Lake: Do you like poems? If so, what’s one of your favorites?Fun fact: I didn’t care about poetry that much until the first time I watched Dead Poets Society, and then I went on a spree with a poetry anthology my mom had, basically taking it as my own and dog-earing the pages of poems I liked (this very anthology is on my desk in my dorm room as we speak, lo these many years later). I still don’t know very much about poetry, nor do I usually care to learn, but I’ll always have a soft spot for Shakespeare and Poe, and in the weeks of obsession after I rewatch Dead Poets Society, I pull that anthology back out and reread my dog-eared poems. So here are a couple of those.“Engraved on the Collar of a Dog, Which I Gave to His Royal Highness” by Alexander PopeI am his Highness’ dog at Kew;Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?“The Laboratory” by Robert Browning Now that I, tying thy glass mask tightly,My gaze through these faint smokes curling whitely, As thou plyest thy trade in this devil’s smithy–Which is the poison to poison her prithee?

He is with her; and they know that I knowWhere they are, what they do: they believe my tears flowWhile they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drearEmpty church to pray God in, for them!–I am here. 

Grind away, moisten and mash up thy paste,Pound at thy powder–I am not in haste!Better sit thus, and observe thy strange things,Than go where men wait me and dance at the King’s.

That, in the mortar–you call it a gum?Ah, the brave tree whence such gold oozings come!And yonder soft phial, the exquisite blue,Sure to taste sweetly–is that poison too?

Had I but all of them, the and thy treasures,What a wild crowd of invisible pleasures!To carry pure death in an earring, a casket,A signet, a fan-mount, a filigree basket!

Soon, at the King’s a mere lozenge to giveAnd Pauline should have just thirty minutes to live!But to light a pastille, and Elise, with her headAnd her breast and her arms and her hands, should drop dead!

Quick–is it finished? The color’s too grim!Why not soft like the phial’s, enticing and dim?Let it brighten her drink, let her turn it and stir,And try it and taste, ere she fix and prefer!

What a drop! She’s not little, no minion like me–That’s why she ensnared him: this never will freeThe soul from those masculine eyes–say “no!”To that pulse’s magnificent come-and-go.

For only last night, as they whispered, I broughtMy own eyes to beat on her so, that I thoughtCould I keep them one half minute fixed, she would fall,Shriveled; she fell not; yet this does it all!

Not that I bid you spare her the pain!Let death be felt and the proof remain;Brand, burn up, bite into its grace–He is sure to remember her dying face!

Is it done? Take my mask off! Nay, be not morose;It kills her, and this prevents seeing it close:The delicate droplet, my whole fortune’s fee–If it hurts her, beside, can it ever hurt me?

Now, take all my jewels, gorge gold to your fill,You may kiss me, old man, on my mouth if you will!But brush this dust off me, lest horror it bringsEre I know it–next moment I dance at the King’s!

My choir in high school also sang a song with the text from “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost, and the song was freaking gorgeous, so that poem’s close to my heart too.

Candlelight: Coffee or tea?Honestly, probably neither. I’d love to like both of them, but no matter how much cream and sugar I put in them, I can’t get past the bitterness. I do like the occasional chai latte, though (they’re like liquefied snickerdoodles!), so both and neither at the same time, I guess.

Princess: Favorite TV show at the moment?I don’t watch TV that much; I don’t have the time to commit to whole seasons of things… I’m not even remotely caught up, but I enjoyed the few episodes I watched of A Series of Unfortunate Events. I also binged the first 10-11 episodes of Switched at Birth the other day, but I’m really only watching it for the ASL. I don’t really like any of the characters, except Daphne and Melody and probably Regina. I want to like Emmett, I really do, but boy needs to get his romantic feelings under control; he can’t keep ping-ponging between Daphne and Bay. That’s gonna end really poorly.EDIT: Can’t believe I forgot these–The West Wing and NCIS are staples in my life. NCIS is just loads of fun, and I love the characters, and I could rant for days about how damn GOOD The West Wing is. It was written by Aaron Sorkin, who’s one of my favorite playwrights (he wrote A Few Good Men, the play the movie’s based on), and it’s just written so damn well. I don’t typically give a shit about the inner workings of the government, but The West Wing makes me give many shits. Many of them. All the characters are intellectual badasses, and I love them all so much.

Sweet Daisies: Do you believe in love at first sight?That’s called infatuation, kiddos, and it’s not healthy for anyone.

Dwarf: Do you enjoy horror films?I’ve never seen any, because I’m only a few years out of spending 95% of my time with my family, and my mom hates horror films with a passion, so we never watched any. I don’t have an interest in that many of them, either, ‘cause I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat (barely made it through Chapter One of Bendy and the Ink Machine; quit five minutes into FNAF 1), but I really wanna watch A Quiet Place, primarily because ASL and partially because my horror-movie-aficionado friends say the atmosphere was like nothing they’ve ever experienced.

Thanks, Al! Sorry about the wall of text, but I’m really glad I got the opportunity to type it all!