#also i feel like i always have to apologize for writing betsy because I FEEL WEIRD

[stawpny]

I’m bored and ao3 is kinda dry (atleast for the wttt ny tag)

so here are some NY ships I NEED to see more of 🙏

—

MassYork: ok, I used to be almost totally opposed to this, seeing them having more of a brotherly relationship but with history n stuff it’s kinda not possible. But anyway, probably my main ship for now, bc OHMYGOD “nobody can kill you but me”? GET OUT, GET MARRIED, PLEASE.

like if it’s Mass/Cali/York or Mass/Jersey/York I will eat it up.

no questions, it is already in my mouth. I am eating the fuck outta this.

GeoYork: in my mind they have a cute dynamic. I feel they would be best friends as younger colonies and then have a very complicated relationship until they finally get together. Slowburn kinda, also kinda they have been in relationships dozens of times but something always happens. and isn’t Georgia called the “Empire State of the South”? or am I just hearing things

peach + apple? cobbler + pie? idek but I love them

TexYork: guys pls. southern gentleman and city boy? literally perfect for each other. they would make fun of each other endlessly. accents, vocabulary, actions, plus so much more because they’re very different.

TX taking York to his ranch to meet bro’s cows??? yes please. I’d like to meet Betsy too .

^TexaCaliYork: also a fire ship (see what I did there?) like the ship above, but with the hipster in it aswell. Texas and Cal constantly bicker like children and York sorts it out like a teacher would.

NY: you hurt his feelin’s, go apologize.

TX, scoffing: fine, but don’t expect me to get along with him after.

(spoiler alert!! York forces them into a cuddle pile afterwards to get over there lifelong beef)

IlliYork: they’re enemies, they’re lovers, the whole kit-and-caboodle. they’d switch hats sometimes and hold each others hand when they’re in their cities. they’re idiots and the Midwest and the Northeast hate them for it. It’s kinda gross but in a good way.

they’d be the couple who like hold hands in public but not make a single move other than that to show that they love the other. absolutely no kissing in public, they would just sit there in silence with a death grip on the other’s hand. they would totally insult each other to the face and then say, “Love you, tho.”

FloYork: fun fact: they are absolutely insane together. They influence each other and constantly say stupid shit. Florida would force York outta his comfort zone from time to time but the inner extrovert masked by New York’s fake introvert personality will do it almost willingly. he puts up a “fight” but he would deadass do it bc he thinks this shit is hilarious.

NY would be a little like Florida even if they weren’t dating. like NYC is absolutely batshit so that would mean York would have to be a little too.

NY/CA/TX/FL/LA: little crazy, ik, but I remember reading fics abt these five (including gov, but I’m still questioning if he would be in here or not) and absolutely devouring them. spectacular ship. it’s like a little bit of everything, except the Midwest and the other western states, but almost everything. I would love to see more of them.

they would def fight over each other. (who got to hold hands with who, who got to sleep/cuddle with who, etc.)

—

I’m not forcing you to give into my opinions, but if u like these, I like you 😼

some of these hc’s are not entirely mine, some were influenced, tho most are from the rotting part of my brain

I hope u use these ships in the future or I might spontaneously combust

(spoiler alert 2!! I will still explode [out of love] if u write about them)

ily guys

[sixofravens-reads]

Finished The Bird's Nest!

(spoilers ahead, sorry I couldn't write my thoughts without them)

Overall I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. Any horror story dealing with "multiple personalities" is usually a pass for me, considering in the modern day it tends to just be another way to demonize mentally ill people, but Jackson's take on this trope (and I'm not sure if this was a trope in her time or if she was one of its originators) is unique. She uses it as an allegory for grief and guilt (SORRY i know that's overdone but it is!), in particular when you're grieving someone you loved but who also treated you horribly and who no one else seemed to like, and you don't know how to reconcile those emotions.

We hear many different stories about Elizabeth's mother from all her personalities before her aunt clarifies things. She clearly tried to love her daughter, but struggled with substance abuse, had a tendency to disappear for long periods of time, and had a boyfriend who was potentially abusive (it's never clarified, but it's implied Robin either tried to force Elizabeth out of her mother's life when he got tired of her or else abused Elizabeth directly), and when she died Aunt Morgen's opinion was basically "good riddance." In the end we find out it's Elizabeth who killed her mother, because she disappeared for two days and showed up to a carefully planned birthday celebration drunk/high. The killing was clearly unintentional, a teenage emotional outburst at the person Elizabeth loved the most betraying her again, and it's implied that her mother was already so weakened (or outright dying) from her addiction that Elizabeth"shaking" her was enough to kill her.

So Elizabeth is unable to handle the truth, and that's where the different parts of her personality come in: it's an allegory for the grief and guilt Elizabeth feels about her mother's death, and how she crushes every undesirable feeling down so that she can go on with life, without making her aunt angry or having to reconcile the facts about her mother, but as always happens when you try and repress your emotions, they start coming out in random outbursts and slowly Elizabeth loses control. Jackson is taking a normal situation to the extreme for effect, but I don't think she was necessarily trying to portray the condition realistically (so if you're sensitive about that, maybe take this book with a grain of salt or just avoid it).

We have Elizabeth, the "primary" for a while, who's very dull, not showing much emotion, just going along with what others want. She's the "safest" in that even when her aunt is upset with her, she doesn't think or feel as deeply about it as the others and she almost never thinks of her mother, and when she does she believes her mother died of a heart attack while Elizabeth was locked in her bedroom. Next there's Beth, who at first seems like the kindest and sweetest and "best" personality, but it becomes clear that if she experiences even the tiniest but of negativity she immediately crumbles. She's part of the hurt child that Elizabeth had to push down because she hadn't come to terms with the fact that she could never be "good" enough for her mother to treat her better. She immediately turns on Doctor Wright when Betsy dips in the middle of being yelled at and Beth accidentally gets part of the lecture. She's too emotional to listen to others and won't accept the doctor's apologies or explanations at all, and it's all downhill from there.

Then we have Betsy, the problem child. Betsy seems younger than the others, and potentially her development was stalled because of something Robin did (the only memory we really get from her is one of her and her mother and Robin at the beach, where he pretty much tells the mother to abandon Elizabeth/Betsy because he's annoyed with her). She's wilful, childish, rude, paranoid, and demanding, and struggles with learning how to behave in society. She's also very clearly a hurt child who wants to act out for attention, and wholeheartedly believes her mother is still alive. She has little care or concern for the rest of Elizabeth, and often pranks her other personalities and at one point runs away to New York and needs Bess to assert her dominance and get them home.

Finally, there's Bess, who believes she's 19 and her mother died just three weeks ago, and whose main concern is that her aunt is in control of her father's money (he died when Elizabeth was a baby, and left it in trust to Elizabeth, with Aunt Morgen to distribute funds until Elizabeth's 25th birthday because he knew he couldn't trust Elizabeth's mother with it) and she fears she's going to spend it all foolishly and leave Elizabeth destitute. That said, she's also a bit of a shopaholic and seems to believe that as long as she spends all her money on herself, everything's a-okay (Betsy often pisses her off by giving money to homeless people, she's that uptight about it). She also contains/is created by the emotions that killed Elizabeth's mother, namely pride, anger, and the deep feeling that she's being screwed over that comes from having a parent who always fails you.

So in the order that they're discovered, meaning how deeply they were buried in Elizabeth's psyche, we have: Elizabeth (the primary), Beth (the nice girl), Betsy (the misbehaving child), and Bess (proud and angry). Which tracks with how someone grieving/guilty might bury emotions they don't want to feel. Bess goes the deepest because it's "her" rage and humiliation that killed her mother and Elizabeth doesn't feel like she's allowed to be a proud, rich woman anymore. Then Betsy, because she makes life so difficult and Elizabeth can't face the childhood trauma that creates those emotions, and then Beth, who's the kindness and naivety Elizabeth wants to have but can't because it's not safe, and then Elizabeth at the top, going through the motions of life and trying to keep everyone around her happy and not rock the boat.

The problems come when Betsy, who can't be contained anymore, starts giving Elizabeth crippling migraines and writing her nasty notes in the brief time where she gains control, which leads Elizabeth to Doctor Wright who discovers her condition. Personally I think Betsy would've gained strength eventually and run away even without the doctor (similar to how I, ah, called in sick an hour into work last week and drove to the mountains because I couldn't deal with work stress anymore), but he was the catalyst for each part of Elizabeth realizing there are other parts taking control, which led to them all being able to come together. Doctor Wright is the kind of character who could've been written as a totally valid doctor in the 50s, but comes across as kind of suspicious nowadays. However, all of his machinations about crushing Betsy and Bess and making Beth the primary fail, because you can't just disappear your bad feelings by trying to be kind and sweet and pure, you have to accept and deal with them in order to move on. He was the catalyst for Elizabeth realizing she needs to accept and deal with all parts of herself, but she did the real work.

In the end, she becomes one whole new person, a merging of all aspects of her personality whose conflicting opinions cancel out, so she has to basically relearn how she feels about everything, including her aunt, who has been through the wringer dealing with a niece who alternately loves or hates her depending on the moment. She's still got work to do, and it's clear she'll have to do it alone since Wright and Aunt Morgen are too tied up in their own opinions of her and desires for who they want her to be to help, but she's got a new lease on life and time to figure it out, without the weight of her past.

So, TLDR: excellent allegory for the grief and guilt of losing someone you have a complicated relationship with, and how that wound can fester if you don't deal with your emotions properly. I wasn't expecting that and I'm a little surprised at how well it works and conveys a lot of thoughts about grief and trauma that I thought were more modern.

Anyway, 4/5 stars, will definitely buy a copy and reread it. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive about how multiple personalities are portrayed though, because as stated above I think this isn't intended to be a realistic portrayal and is using that as an allegory.

[striker-brayden]

Location: Betsy’s Office Date: August 17 Time: 11am

trigger warnings: Drug abuse, addiction, alcohol mention, mentions of vomit, and a brief hint of suicide.

“You ever going to let me add booze to one these things?” Brayden asks as Betsy hands him his mug of hot chocolate, giving him an amused look before shaking her head, “Of course not.”

He only asked to stall the inevitable, but he rolls his eyes anyway before taking a slow sip. It feels wrong to be drinking such a hot, rich drink in the middle of August, but he’s not complaining. It gives him something to focus on other than the session. He can sense where this session going, even though it hasn’t even started yet. The Foxes have to meet with Betsy in the beginning of each semester, but Brayden already meets with her frequently, so it’s almost just another day for him.

“Are you excited for the season?” Betsy asks.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “I guess I was a little. Grant and I worked on some strategy last year that I still remember.”

“Was?” Betsy repeats, tilting her head as she watches him.

“Landon’s the Assistant Coach for the Ravens now,” He shrugs nonchalantly, averting his gaze to his mug. He plays it off like it’s not a big deal, even though it has his mind whirling.

“I see. And you thought this would be your first season without him,” She adds.

“It still is, I guess. He’s not really playing…he’s just there,” Brayden mutters as he stares down at his hot chocolate. Landon is always there, even when he thinks he got rid of him. When Landon graduated high school, he thought that would be the last of him, but that got fucked up when Brayden also joined a Class I Exy team, leading him to face Landon on the court.

Shaking his head, he looks up at her, “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Taking the hint, she nods and scribbles something in her notebook, “That’s fine. Who are you living with this year? The same group?”

“Arlo, Sterling, and Grayson,” He answers flatly.

“Arlo,” She observes, smiling a little. “You two have become pretty good friends, right?”

Betsy says that like she wasn’t the one who talked Brayden through his meltdown last year. She encouraged him to apologize after he basically verbally attacked Arlo for suggesting they were anything more than acquaintances. Brayden suspects she just wants to hear him say the words.

“Yeah,” He nods, refusing to give her anything more.

Bee nods, clearly in approval, as she take a few notes. “You came a long way last year, Brayden. You made friends, and you were proactive in practices. I really want to see you continue to progress.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming next?” He asks slowly.

“No, there’s no ‘but.’ I just know that progress can be scary or overwhelming, and sometimes it can cause people to regress instead. You don’t want to talk about your brother, but I think he’s an important topic to touch on, given what you just learned.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” He says, shifting his gaze to the window.  

“There is,” She responds quietly. “I know how hard it is for you every time you see him, and this change of plans could be potentially triggering for you.”

Brayden hates that word. Trigger. It’s thrown around so often now. Everything’s a trigger, and he hates being associated with something that makes him sound so pitiful. His jaw twitches in response, licking his lips before he speaks up, “Well, I’m not going to fuck up, so it’s fine.”

Betsy is quiet for a moment, but Brayden knows it’s because she’s jotting down notes, he can hear her pen against the paper, the sound alone makes his skin crawl. He’s been attending these sessions since he first came to Palmetto and they never get easier. And yet, he still stays with her every summer. He doesn’t have a choice, but he doesn’t put up a fight either.

He hates talking about Landon, because all it does is bring up the shitty memories of being back at home. Memories of feeling so invisible that he might as well have been dead. Of being so desperate for a fix that he would’ve done anything to get his hands on it. And through it all, his mother was too caught up in Landon to realize that her younger son was a drug addict, and Landon thought he was so pathetic that he just didn’t care.

“It’s an achievement each time you see your brother again and remain clean. You should be proud that you reacted to his new job so well,” She finally says when she looks up at him again before adding, “How did you feel when you found out? How did you get past it?”

“Fine,” He says shortly, his lips pursed in a tight line.

“You didn’t have any reaction?” By her tone, Brayden can tell she doesn’t believe him, prompting him to roll his eyes in frustration.

“I was fucking pissed. But I can’t do anything about it. So, I distracted myself. I hung out with Arlo or whatever. It’s not a big deal,” He knows he’s being defensive, and it’s not helping his case. He’s so afraid she’s going to dig deeper into his relationship with both Landon and Arlo that he’s trying to beat her to the punch.

Bee’s face remains neutral, even though he’s slowly unraveling. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. She simply nods, “You still try to brush past the topic whenever we talk about Arlo. I thought we got past this last year.”

There it is. It’s his own fault, but he knew the topic would land here eventually. He finds himself reaching for the mug of hot chocolate without meaning to, craving some sort of heat right now. Betsy’s fucking conniving with the stuff, somehow knowing the Foxes will eventually turn to it even if they deny it at first.

“I did. I just don’t want to talk about him,” He retorts, the edge in his voice clear now as the mug shakes in his hands, some of its contents spilling on to his sweats.  

Brayden notices her gaze go to his hands. She’s known him long enough to know what it means. She’s effecting him, picking him apart bit by bit.

“This is a safe space, Brayden. If you need to talk about him or Landon you can. And it’s important for your recovery that you don’t drown yourself by keeping it all inside. Did something happen with Arlo over the summer?”

Brayden knows she doesn’t mean it that way, but his mind automatically goes to the amount of almosts. That moment when their faces were too close while they watched fireworks from the roof of the car, or the one where their hands brushed as they shared a bag of chips during a HGTV binge. The summer was made of moments between them that were just too close. Where they could’ve crossed a line that Brayden can’t allow.

You can’t have him, you can’t have him, you can’t have him.

Brayden lets out a laugh that sounds a little too hysterical and shakes his head almost violently in response. “I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t know why we still talk at all. I’m clean, and I’ve been clean for years now, so I shouldn’t have to keep going to these sessions.” Bee doesn’t even flinch as Brayden’s voice raises. She sits there stoically, pen in hand as she studies him patiently.

“Brayden,” She begins after she lets him breathe for a moment. “Heroin is one of the most difficult drugs to recover from. That’s why so many addicts end up relapsing multiple times throughout the duration of many years. They say that many recovering heroin addicts never fully stop wanting to use. And when they’re confronted with a difficult situation, many will feel the urge to rely on it again. That’s why it’s important that we continue our sessions, so you stay on the correct path. You relapsed, and no one wants to see that happen again. We need to talk about what led your addiction in the first place and what keeps you from actually letting people in.”

“What does this have to do with Arlo?” He retorts. He’s heard it all before. He knows that he’s most likely going to spend the rest of his life actively trying not to fall back into his old bad habits.

“You still won’t let him in even when you’re friends, and I’m sure this stems from how your family made you feel,”  She informs him

“I don’t need Arlo or Landon,” He mumbles stubbornly, staring down at his shaking hands.

“You say you don’t need anyone, but you turned to drugs when you didn’t have anyone,” She reminds him. “Your mother and your brother hurt you, and so you pushed them away in response–“

“They went willingly,” Brayden interrupts quickly, but Bee keeps going.

“And now, you push anyone away who reaches out to you as a test to see who will stay and who will go. Even the ones who do pass your test, like Arlo, you keep at a distance. I don’t think you really want to be alone. I think you’re afraid of what will happen if you do have someone. You’re afraid they’ll leave,” She lets the words sink in before she adds the topping to the cake. “You can let yourself have things, Brayden. You’re allowed to be happy.”

“No,” Brayden’s out of his chair before his mind can catch up to his body, slamming his mug back down on the table. To his horror, his eyes begin to sting, and he really needs to get out of this room before he pukes or, worse, cries. “I don’t get to just have things. It doesn’t work like that. Just because I’m fucking in love with him–”

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud or even mentally, and he just blurted it out to his fucking therapist. Afraid of what he’ll do next, he doesn’t spare her a second glance before he quickly leaves the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

[exy-softie]

neil and parental figures (maternal abby)

- a ted talk by me

(no but seriously before you read this you should know it was 5am when i wrote it you can’t blame me for being a sleep deprived mess i don’t even know what this is but i’m posting it for the sake of the impulse sorry for any type of mistakes, thank you)

okay so obviously kevin’s parental figure is wymack and we also agree that andrew’s is betsy right? right

but what about neil?

he has made it clear that he’s not looking for one nor does he need it, he’s actually rather uncomfortable with the thought but-

*sighs*

we can’t consider stuart as his parental figure; he may be his only family (by blood) and maybe they even get in touch now and then (i’ll probably write another post about this) but as much as i love the idea of neil having this cool gangster uncle who protects him from an ocean away, they aren’t really that close. 

*sips tea and looks into the horizon*

some may say that wymack is the closest he has as a paternal figure and i agree, since wymack always tried to help him and was there for him and he has very paternal vibes and is kind of all the foxes’ dad and whatever- 

BUT

*gulps what’s left of the tea agressively*

what if

abby

was neil’s maternal figure

aND his closest parental figure

*throws tea cup to a wall*

now i kNOW I KNOW,,,,that this is kind of impossible and just a dream cause canon neil would most likely never but we come here to be happy not to be real-

...

everything is fake-

...

*inhales*

(EVERYTHING IS FAKE EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD IS FAKE THE GRASS ON THE FOOTBALL FIELD ISN’T EVEN GRASS IT’S PLASTIC ALL THE PEOPLE ARE FAKE THEY ARE MADE OUT OF METAL BUT I LIKE YOU AND THAT IS NOT FAKE *hits head against the table* *cries and visibly shakes*)

*exhales*

(I APOLOGIZE BUT REGRET NOTHING)

(YES YG DID ME DIRTY)

(in a beautiful way)

anyways

abby being neil’s maternal figure. 

maybe he was curious. he probably used to think of mary as a “decent parent” (not that she was) but she was abusive, so he is intrigued, although first frightened, by abby’s nurturing and kind essence

abby was the first person from the team who saw his scars and was always making sure he was alright (when allowed). i like to think she earned his trust trough the years and maybe one day, abby gets to be the only person (apart from andrew and matt) who neil lets himself be soft with. 

he starts accepting abby’s gentle cares and finds out he enjoys her company and feels peaceful in her presence. 

while neil is at palmetto they meet once a month or every two weeks to have tea with cookies and they mainly talk about neil`s classes and exy and abby`s new hobbies

*suddenly remembers the tea and pours herself another cup*

*tries it*

*kinda cold tbh*

speaking of which, abby’s main hobby is to knit, so if you’re imagining her knitting neil hundreds of scarfs and sweaters and socks and gloves you’re totally right

neil loves them but he also encourages her to start doing them for the whole team bacuse he`s running out of space and it becomes a christmas tradition to get one of abby’s nitted pieces

she gives a matching pair of sweaters to neil and andrew as a present in one of their anniversaries

when neil goes pro tho, they don’t see each other that much, however one of them calls at least once a month and neil also visits when he has the chance and they have their tea afternoons. he also sends her little gifts from different places he’s been while andrew does the same with bee

(can you imagine bee and abby bff forever talking about their *sons* and how proud they are of everything they have acomplished and also how much they love each other)

*wipes away emotional tear*

*whispers* lovely bastards...

now....

just imagine...

the possibilities if:

ABBY IS AARON’S MATERNAL FIGURE TOO

*laughs manically*

imagine everything i just mentioned

but sometimes aaron is there too

like both neil and aaron go to abby’s on the same day and she makes them both stay and have tea with her and they can’t say no cause it’s sweet old abby. 

i think is easier (or not actually, because aaron is really suspicious and rejective towards anyone but wtv) to explain why aaron gets close to abby, since both of them are health workers (or student) and he already respected her professionally. with the time tho, he starts going to her for advice and he also (like neil) finds her attitude comforting. she makes them both understand how maternal affection is supposed to feel like. 

aaron and neil fighting over who gets abby the best birthday present. 

later on, aaron and neil bonding over deciding what to get her and weighing up the best options togheter cuz #thisisimportant

aaron, neil and abby sitting at the table gossiping about aaron’s co-workers and neil’s teammates and rivals (aaron and neil trashing them while abby tries to reprimand them but still laughs at her boys critizicing people togheter cause they seem actually happy)

(andrew having to stand this new awkward friendship between the two and sometimes just sitting there while they talk about random stuff)

[springsteenicious]

here's an story idea that popped up on my mind out of nowhere... jackie still says no to kelso's proposal on s8, BUT, she asks to move with him to Chicago instead (as friends), and he's totally on board with it. i think this has great potential to be a j/h fix-it (and maybe that could make donna realize how she's been a bad friend too)

Ooh! I like this idea a lot. I love Jackie and Kelso's friendship, I think they could have been great friends if they hadn't dated.

I think this could be a cool fic. I don't think I'll write it fully, but here's how I think it would go:

Donna, Hyde, Randy and Fez drive down to Chicago to help Jackie and Kelso move into their new apartment. Jackie forbids Samantha from coming. While setting up, Jackie talks about how glad she is that she and Michael can start moving on in life and how they're not stuck in Eric's basement anymore. That makes Donna realize she needs to move on with her life too instead of waiting around for Eric. She also realizes she's part of the reason Jackie's so excited about moving on with life, so she decides to be a better friend.

Hyde, on the other hand, just does what's required of him (ie. moving heavy furniture), then gets the hell out of there. He thinks about what Jackie said, about moving on with her life. He thinks about it a lot. He thinks about how he should be getting over Jackie because of Sam, but his love for Jackie hasn't faded since he married Sam. He thinks about how Jackie could be moving on with her life with him instead of Kelso, if only he hadn't married Sam. How he and Jackie could be living together and still dating, possibly even engaged.

After thinking about that for a while, he breaks it off with Sam. He's just not happy with her and he sees no point in staying with her or keeping her trapped in Point Place. So he buys her a plane ticket and she goes back to Vegas.

Hyde hears a lot from Donna and Fez about how well Jackie's doing in Chicago. She went back to the station that offered her a job at the end of season 7 and got the job. She takes a few night classes at a community college near her apartment. She's developing her interests and starting to find things she's passionate about. She's growing as a person and moving away from her strong desire to get married. She still wants to get married, but she doesn't feel an urgent need to do it right away.

Hearing that makes Hyde realize that he isn't moving on with his life. All he's been doing is sitting around the basement and working at a job he was handed by his father. So he decides to apply to colleges. Because why not? Red gives him the money he's been paying as 'rent' that's secretly been going into a college fund. Hyde gets accepted to a college in Wisconsin and starts taking classes that he's interested in (in addition to required classes).

Once Hyde starts growing and moving on, he realizes he should make up with Jackie. Not necessarily get back together, but apologize and try to get back into her life.

He visits her and Kelso. They are getting along really well, and they've formed a strong friendship. He pulls Jackie aside to talk privately.

Hyde: Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For the way things ended between us. That was an asshole move and just a horrible decision. You didn't deserve that, so I'm sorry.

Jackie: Yeah, it was a bad decision.

Hyde: I, uh... I saw that you were moving on, so I decided I would too. I'm going to college now, can you believe it?

Jackie: Not really. You always said college wasn't 'your thing.'

Hyde: Turns out I didn't really know what I wanted. I know now. It's too late for some things, though.

Jackie: Things like...?

Hyde contemplates answering, then decides he should go for it.

Hyde: Things like being with you. I know I fucked that up, so I get it if you're over me.

Jackie: Steven, I could never be over you.

Hyde smiles a little.

Hyde: I could never be over you, either.

Jackie: But I also can't trust you.

Hyde: I know. How can I fix that?

Jackie: Prove you can be my friend, and that you don't need women who aren't me. Once you've proven I'm more important than sex, I'd like to be with you. But I can't be with you until I trust you and you trust me. Deal?

Hyde: Deal.

From there, Hyde does all that stuff and Jackie takes him back. Kelso eventually leaves the apartment to live with Brooke and Betsy and Hyde moves in to be with Jackie. And all is right again.

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 3 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story

On AO3.

Ships: none

Wasrnings: Aaron and Alex get punched by the Schuylers and theyre at a party so drinking. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week passed quicker than expected and soon enough Alex was dragging Aaron along to the meeting place with Herc, Lafayette and John. Inside he was hoping none of them had read up on their history and wouldn’t know what Aaron had done.

Or that they at least wouldn’t be salty.

No such luck, the moment they arrived Alex skipped forwards as he introduced Aaron: “Hi, guys, this Aaron Bartow, my roommate.”

At the name John surged forwards, only getting held back by Lafayette, who whispered: “Lets not do this tonight.”

John tore himself free and jabbed his finger at Aaron as he hissed: “The only reason you don’t have a broken nose right now is because I don’t want to ruin our evening and Alex is attached to you for some reason.”

Before Aaron could reply Alex stepped in: “Damn, I knew people tell you not to mix social circles, but I did not picture this. What did you do piss John off? He’s practically sunshine.”

The others all stared at him, unsure if they should explain or just leave him in the dark as they had done so far. No one had informed Alex of who they were, besides mentioning soldiers and revolution – or lawyer in Aarons case.

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Alex broke the tension.

“Just leave it, Alex. It’s too complicated.” Herc said.

“Ooohh, relationship drama through the ages.” Alex couldn't help but tease, “Were you past lovers?”

Aaron and John both chocked as Laf and Herc burst out laughing and suddenly the tension from before was gone as Herc gasped: “Oh my god, Alex, I know you have no context, but that was the funniest shit to date.”

“But was I right?” he asked.

“NO!” suddenly Aaron and John could agree, both with horror on their faces.

John grimaced: “I’m gay, but not for him, ew.”

“I feel like I should be offended, but I honestly don’t care.” Aaron replied.

“Sad, you two would be cute together.” now he was just talking shit and if it ever came out that he’d already known right now, he was going to be fucked.

There were more snorts and sounds of horror. When everyone had calmed down again he gestured to the house from which sounds of the party were coming. He said: “Are we going to get shitfaced now?”

John forgot Aaron as he whooped loudly and practically dragged the others inside, leaving Aaron to sigh and trudge after them. He had forgotten how much he hadn’t missed this.

Inside Alex looked around for the Angie, who had invited them. It was polite to sat hi to the host after all. He soon spotted her and dragged his companions over to her and two other girls by her side.

“Hello, Alex, I’m unsure which of you to thank for inviting me.” he greeted with a charming smile, “I also brought my housemate Aaron, hope it’s not an issue.”

“Aaron?” Angie asked.

“Yeah, oh and that’s John, Herc and Lafayette, his real name is way too long so we just call him Laf.” he smiled.

Before he could say anything else one of the other girls had punched Aaron in the face. The puzzle pieces fell in place, but before he could say anything Angies fist collided with his own. His hands flew up and he yelled: “What the hell!”

In the background he heard Lafayette ask: “Schulyers?”

“Yes, naturally.” Angie replied.

“Alex doesn’t remember or he really isn’t him.” Lafayette said softly, “We’re unsure.”

Pretending he hadn’t overheard the conversation, he looked up and said: “I probably deserved that, though I am unsure why, but, and I repeat, what the hell! Do you always go around punching your guests?”

Angie gasped and Alex felt kind of bad, since he honestly did deserve that. She explained: “I’m so sorry, I thought- with Aaron- and then, you- god, I’m so sorry, I knew an Alex, well, an Alexander, in a past life and he broke my sisters heart.”

“Damn, he must have really fucked up.” Alex sympathized.

“Yeah, he cheated on me and published it for the world to know.” the girl who punched Aaron told him, “Elizabeth Schild, but everyone calls me Lizzy.”

“Alex Hambleton, and that guy sounds like a fucking asshole, pardon my language. He deserves more than a punch at this point.” he said, trying to apologize while also not, “But why did Aaron get punched?”

“Well, maybe now it isn’t him, since you’re not-” Lizzy, no Eliza, his Betsy, said, “But if he is who I think he is, then he shot my husband.”

“Holy shit.” Alex forced his eyes to go wide with surprise, “Remember what I said? Holy fuck. I was right, well not completely, but holy shit.”

“What?” Angie, Angelica, asked.

“Well, this is awkward, well, uhm, when I asked these three if I should invite Aaron here, they asked me what, you know- what was the worst that could happen, you see.” Alex stumbled.

“The point.” there was a reason he had always liked Angelica.

“The worst I came up with was that he over there murdered your past lover, not hers, and that you were going to murder him and that I was going to be involved somehow and then I was going to get deported for being an accessory.” Alex told her.

“That is scarily close.” Eliza said.

“Exactly!” Alex said, “Way too close, jikes. Please, don’t murder him, I want to keep my visa, please.”

“I’ll consider it.” Angelica raised a brow, charmed.

“Thanks.” Aaron sounded strained, his nose was still bleeding.

“So, are you the guy who shot the husband.” Alex asked, he had to, it would be suspicious if he didn’t.

Aaron looked around to all the expecting faces and sighed defeated, this was not how he had hoped this evening to go: “Yes.”

“On one hand, damn, on the other hand, that guy kinda deserved it.” Alex told him, “So, silver linings.”

“You are extremely calm for a man rooming with a confirmed murderer.” John said, still mad at Aaron.

Alex shrugged: “I mean, that was the past, people change, my man. And mean, I’m still alive, so I trust him.”

He tried to ignore the look of awe and disbelief on Aarons face.

“Weirdo.” said the other girl, “I’m Margret Smith, but call me Peggy.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Alex said, he was glad Eliza had found her sisters, she deserved to have something nice like that in her life. He added: “Hey, Peggy, could you show me where the ice is? It’s not that I don’t love this drama that I’m unable to follow, but my nose hurts.”

“Yeah, sure.” she said, before sending her sisters a look and dragging Alex off to give the others privacy to talk about the past.

They wormed their way through the crowd of bodies to a luckily empty kitchen, where Alex was given an ice pack for his nose. Sitting on the counter he asked: “Sorry if this rude, but did you know what they were talking about?”

Peggy shrugged and said: “I mean, technically yeah, we used to be sisters in our past lives, but I died before all the drama, so it’s always more them and then me. I’m the ‘and Peggy’, at least Margret is slightly better than Margarita as a name”

Alex snorted and nodded, de and Peggy had always gotten along. She’d struggled with this before as well. He offered: “At least you know. It seems everyone wants me to be someone, but I am my own person. Having a past life seems to be exhausting and it would only drag me down, I have so much to achieve.”

Peggy grinned and said: “Well, I don’t blame them for thinking it, honestly. You are so much like the other Alexander, he made it to the History books, you know.”

“Really?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, you have no clue how awkward it is to learn about your brother-in-law during high school.” she confided.

He laughed and said: “That must be insane, I’m honestly tempted to ask who he was, but I also don’t want to know, because then I know who everyone wants me to be and it seems like he was a lot to live up to, being a shitty husband aside.”

“Lizzy called him her little hurricane.” Peggy told him, “He was quite much, but in a good way, as far as I knew him. Always talking or writing.”

Alex grinned, he had always gotten the gossip about Angelica and Eliza from Peggy and it seemed even death and more than 200 years had not changed that.

He replied: “Damn, that does sound like too much energy,” god was he one to judge, he was practically still the same, “How about we go back, before they actually murder Aaron and we’re accessories.”

It delighted him that he got a laugh out of the youngest sister as she gave him a drink, for the last of the pain as she told him, before going to find the others again.

Aaron had already left, but the night was good nonetheless. Alex, however, was getting quite concerned with all the people he’d know. If he wasn’t careful, he would be forced to tell everyone he knew who he was.

As much as he loved seeing his Betsy again, he hadn’t deserved Eliza before and he certainly didn’t deserve Eliza again. He wasn’t going to force her to go through that again.

So, he spend the night flirting with a guy, named Yoseph, making sure he had known no one with the name. And distanced himself.

[mrslackles]

"TLDR: If you don’t know the emotional burden the POC behind the scenes are carrying then don’t use them as a defence just because you like the end product." holy shit. fuck yes. i apologize in advance if this gets long & rambling. it is super offensive to use the race/presumed race as a shield. i've seen stand use it with the writers' room, the actors, & themselves. so, one at a time. (1)

(2) The writers: like you said, maybe some just don’t have the emotional energy or desire to be the “race monitor” for every conversation (AND THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BE!). Getting staffed in a room is hard enough and I can easily see the desire – because I’ve had it too in work & personal settings - to not get labeled as the troublemaker who is always bringing race into it. I mean, shit, we see it happening in the fandom and none of us are getting paid for this (although some seem like it).

Exactly! It’s so hard to even get in the door. Being the ‘race monitor’ is so utterly exhausting and it shouldn’t be an expected duty from POC. 

(3) I will say that I bet the Good Girls writing room is probably 85% better than most other rooms, which is faint praise if you’ve read any thing about the industry. I just can’t believe JB left Shondaland without learning anything. Quick tangent: I’m not a fan of Shonda Rhimes’ creative output. Watched a few episodes here & there; maybe even the entire first of GA. They are too DRAMATIC! for my tastes. But I’m a HUGE fan of SR and what she’s accomplished.

Same! I’ve only properly watched two of her shows: How to Get Away with Murder, when it was still good, and The Catch (which I’m still mad got cancelled!). But I’m astonished by what she’s accomplished, it’s super impressive. I’m also not sure how Jenna seemingly came away with very few lessons about intersectionality, though. (I think Laurel on HTGAWM probably got more about her culture included in the first episode than Rio has in nearly three seasons.)

(4) (although an interesting though experiment is would all that have happened if she hadn’t hooked up with Betsy Beers?) And one thing I remember reading from SR that stuck with me b/c it is a fact of life but not often articulated is that when she would read scripts the only times a character’s race was indicated was when the character wasn’t white. so, white is the default. the presumed. the normal. I love that she said that because that’s the kind of subtle racism that is so insidious.

I didn’t know about Betsy Beers! That is actually really interesting. 

And, yes. White is the default. That’s what I really loved about @septiembur‘s response as well – so little thought goes into making the Latinx characters real people, which really shows in the naming and the way they haven’t let Rio step into his identity. 

I also think she made a really good point that the friendship between the girls is something else to be investigated. I’ve always felt, but especially in 2x08 it was hard to ignore, that there isn’t much acknowledgement of how the world treats Ruby differently than her two best friends, and I can’t help wondering if that’s as a result of that default treatment – these characters get cast as POC, but not written as such. Because every POC knows that having white friends is a Whole Thing.  

(5) that’s the kind of racism that says “i can’t be racist, i have black friends.” ok. point 2 - the actors. as at @septiembur mentioned, Retta & Reno have both spoken about pushing back on things. they also mentioned that the “La Di Da Di” sequence came about because they were just doing it for fun around set and someone took a video and sent to JB and they wrote it in. Manny has been super vocal about the struggles of MOC in the industry and his own in particular.

I know. Every time people say “Manny must be fine with…” or “Manny hasn’t said anything against…” I’m so confused because he’s said so much more than I would ever expect someone in his position to say. Not directly about the show, but like you say, he’s been vocal about his struggles in the industry, and it’s very easy to see how that plays out on this show as well. Nobody can speak for him or know how he feels, but he’s been clear on certain issues and those issues crop up here too.

(6) he’s constantly saying he never knows how tough or charming to play the character and that means he’s not getting any guidance from what’s written. also in the Angie Martinez interview, he mentions director & writers telling him to play tougher (while making a growl noise), which is basically like in community when they try to tell Shirley to be sassier. it’s hella coded language and poc deal with it all the time. 

Oh, for SURE. I’m not Latinx, black or even American and I immediately knew what he meant.

(7)��point 3 - the fans. woo boy, this is the stickiest one. I’ve seen stans say “I’m latinx and it didn’t bother me.” great. not all poc have the same reactions. also, we live in a white heteronormative patriarchy and that affects us all. it’s why so much of social justice is UNlearning. also, may I present stacey dash & ben carson. and the over 50% of white women who voted to uphold the grossest form of white heteronormative patriarchy in 2016, especially important as that was the catalyst for the show’s creation.  

(8) and maybe i’m being uncharitable, but some of those stans are the same ones that have zero problem calling other female fans misogynists. so, at best, they understand that having an identity of an oppressed class does not automatically make you immune to participating in that oppression. at worst, they throw that term around and then use their racial identity as armor. Damn, ok, hope some of that made sense. 

I also find certain stans to be the sticking point, tbh. It’s one thing to have a problematic show. It’s a different one altogether to have a fanbase that not only defends that show with its lives, but also attacks anyone who dares speak up against it.   

“some of those stans are the same ones that have zero problem calling other female fans misogynists. so, at best, they understand that having an identity of an oppressed class does not automatically make you immune to participating in that oppression. at worst, they throw that term around and then use their racial identity as armor.” 🔥🔥🔥

Dang, Anon, you did not come to PLAY!

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Not Like This

warnings: underage drinking, cussing, that’s it lmao

word count: 1.4 K

A/N: i saw an episode of new girl with a plot like this and I LITERALLY WROTE THIS IN ONE SESSION LIKE I STARTED IT AT 6 AND FINISHED IT AT 7 IVE NEVER BEEN SO INSPIRED WTFFF also i’m still working on a warren smut BUT I HAD TO WRITE THIS ASAP

(Y/n)’s thoughts were pulled away from her homework as someone pounded on her door.

“Open up!!!”

(Y/n) hopped up, heading to the door, “What the fu-”

“Hey!” 

Jubilee pushed her way into (Y/n)’s room, hands holding two bottles of vodka.

“What the fuck? Why-”

“Guess what?! My senior friend just turned 18 so look what she brought me!!”

“No.”

Jubilee placed the bottles on (Y/n)’s desk. 

“Jubilee, no! One, we’re underage. What if the professor or Hank finds out? And two, I have so much homework!”

“Oh shut up! It’s Friday night. You can do your work tomorrow. Plus..... Warren will be there.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, letting out a huff as she sat down on her bed. 

“Isn’t he still dating Betsy?”

Jubilee laughed, “They were never dating- just hooking up.”

(Y/n) glared at her, “That doesn’t make it any better. And that doesn’t answer my question!”

She sat next to (Y/n) on the bed, “Jean said that Scott said that Warren said he dropped her. Said something about wanting to actually date someone, not just hook up.”

(Y/n) stayed silent, eyes trained on the bottles sitting at her desk. Her mind was running wild with thoughts of Warren. They had been very close their freshman year at the school, having shared four classes. (Y/n) had been unable to stop herself from forming feelings. She never once spoke of them to Warren, too afraid for the inevitable moment where he would say, “I like you, but as a friend.”

(Y/n) however, didn’t know that Warren had felt the same that year. And every year after. He constantly felt like he wasn’t good enough for her. Actually scratch that- he knew he wasn’t good enough for her. He figured the best way to suppress those feelings was to focus on other girls, a lot of other girls.

Even throughout his little fuck boy phase, (Y/n) was still his best friend. Except lately it had been different. He started to confide in Scott more. There were things he couldn’t share with (Y/n). They were usually about (Y/n) so obviously he couldn’t talk to her about how he’d had a crush on her since 9th grade. 

“(Y/n).”

“Huh?”

“I bet he wants to date you.”

“Shut up.”

Jubilee shoved her, “I’m serious! You guys are so close!”

“That doesn’t mean anything. We are just friends. Don’t get my hopes up.”

Jubilee hummed, not knowing what to say to that. “Well, he’s coming over here. The whole gang is.”

“Why is it always my room?”

Jubilee gestured like it was obvious, “You have the most furniture! More space for True American!”

(Y/n) sighed, leaning back, “You suck.”

“I rock! You should clean up before tonight, I’ll get the vacuum.”

It was now 9:30 and the whole “gang” ((Y/n), Scott, Jean, Warren, Kurt, Ororo, Jubilee, and Peter) were almost done with one of the bottles. 

They were in the middle of true american, a drinking game Peter had made up his first year at the school. The game was usually utter nonsense, but seemed even worse now that everyone was tipsy. They had been playing for an hour, each person still in the game was stationed on a piece of furniture to avoid the hot lava (the floor). 

Peter downed his shot, “High stakes round for the remaining players! Kiss and tell!”

(Y/n), Ororo, Warren, and Jean (the remaining players) followed suit, downing their vodka, “Kiss and tell!”

“Okay,” Peter slurred, “Doing the count, okay?”

Warren placed his cup down on the desk he was standing on, “No one do three! No one do three!”

Peter cleared his throat, “Doing the count! Three, two, one!” 

As he counted down everyone put a number on their forehead using their fingers. 

Miraculously, it seemed as though no one had the same number. 

“Warren! (Y/n)! You’re up!” 

Warren stood up straight on the desk, “What?! I said don’t do three!”

(Y/n) looked at her hand, clearly holding up two fingers, “I didn’t!”

“Huh?,” Warren looked at his hand, holding up two fingers as well, “Oh! I forgot to do three.”

“Stupid!”

Peter started chanting, “Kiss and tell! Kiss and tell!”

“No! Come on, we’re too drunk for this!”

(Y/n) hated to admit how hearing Warren protest hurt her feelings. 

“You know the rules, kiss and tell or you’re out! And this is high stakes! We’re up to $20 in the pile.”

Warren groaned, hopping off the desk, being safe from the lave because of “kiss and tell.” 

(Y/n) climbed off her nightstand, following Warren towards the corner that over the past few months has been named “the kissing corner” for this reason exactly. 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Peter started the chant, getting everyone else to join.

Warren placed his hands on (Y/n)’s shoulders awkwardly. “I don’t want to do this.”

Ouch, she thought.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want to though.”

Ouch again.

“Just kiss me! Or we’re both out.”

“No!”

“Warren if you get me out of this game I swear to God!”

“I don’t want to!”

Peter clapped his hands together, “Come on! Don’t be a pussy! High stakes! High stakes!”

“Just do it, Warren.”

Warren closed his eyes, slowly leaning in. 

“No- I, I can’t do this.”

“Oh come on! $20!”

“Just no, (Y/n)! Not- not like this.”

“W-what?”

(Y/n)’s eyes were wide, trying to understand what that meant.

“N-nothing. Just- just..” 

Warren’s cheeks were bright red, and not just from the alcohol. He let go of her shoulders, pushing past her and out the door. 

“What?” (Y/n) felt like she was rooted to the spot.

“So.. Warren is disqualified! (Y/n), you’re still in and we can do another round of the count for kiss and tell.”

(Y/n) looked at Peter and then back at the door, “No, I-I need to go talk to him, sorry. I’m out.”

(Y/n) ran out of her room, not even bothering to put shoes on, which was probably a bad idea because she immediately fell on her ass as she tried to run down the hallway in her socks. 

(Y/n) stood back up, deciding to walk around the school, hoping to find Warren somewhere. She first went to his dorm, knocking. She couldn’t hear anyone inside so she decided to move towards the back hallway. As she walked past the windows, she saw the stark white of Warren’s wings. He was sitting on a bench outside, staring off into the lake.

(Y/n) tiptoed outside, not wanting to be heard yet. She snuck up behind him before taking a seat next to him. He didn’t flinch at all, just stayed staring forward.

“Hey.”

Warren nodded, glancing towards her real quick before looking back towards the water.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I-”

“You didn’t do anything, don’t apologize.”

(Y/n) nodded, staring at the water with him. 

“So what was that?”

Warren shrugged, his face burning.

“Don’t just shrug. What did “not like this” mean? Not like what?”

“It’s nothing, (Y/n).”

She rolled her eyes, looking at him. “It’s obviously something.”

Warren huffed, “I- I just didn’t want to kiss you for a stupid game.”

“It wouldn’t have been stupid, we could’ve been in the running for $20 bucks!”

Warren let out a small laugh, “You don’t get it.”

He glanced towards her before looking down at his feet. 

“I like you, (Y/n). And- and I didn’t want to have our first kiss in front of all of them while getting drunk in a stupid drinking game.”

“Oh-”

“I’m sorry, that was probably embarrassing for you, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, Warren. It’s okay. I- um, like you too.”

Warren’s head whipped to face her, “Really? Like actually?”

(Y/n) nodded, giving him a shy smile. 

“Cool, cool, cool-”

“Cool.”

“Did you drop Betsy to date me?”

Warren’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Well, Jubilee said-”

“Scott, that little bastard. I trust him with ONE secret and he tells the whole world.”

(Y/n)’s leg was bouncing up and down, “So it’s true?”

“Yeah. I mean- honestly I only ever got with Betsy to try and not like you, but it just made things worse.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m stupid.”

(Y/n) nodded, “Yeah.”

Warren elbowed her lightly, making her laugh. He turned to see her face. 

“C-can I kiss you now? Show you how I wanted it to be like?”

(Y/n) nodded, feeling speechless.

Warren slowly leaned in, eyes closed. His lips brushed up against hers lightly before the kiss became more firm. (Y/n) felt fireworks going off in her stomach and felt as though all the breath had been sucked out of her. She pulled away to get air.

“Wow.”

Warren laughed, kissing her cheek. 

“I wanted it like that. Just us. No games.”

“I liked that.”

“Me too.” 

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @queen-baelin 

hmu to be added!

[roselukes]

Summer Dream - Chapter 16

Previous Chapters

At freetime that day, Michael went to the beach with the boys again. He was too confused about the situation to hang out with Audrey, and he didn’t fully trust Aspen yet. “Nice of you to remember who your friends are.” Calum rolled his eyes as Michael sat down.

“I’m sorry, okay? Things are just really confusing for me now.” Michael sighed. “I was talking to Aspen this morning,” Calum cut him off.

“Wow, what a big step. You’re talking to girl you ignored for no reason.”

“Will you listen to me, please?” Michael asked him. “I get that I’ve been a shit friend lately, but you guys haven’t exactly been great friends either.”

“Yeah, we listen to both sides of the story, though.” Luke sighed.

“I want to know Aspen’s side. I tried asking her this morning, but she wouldn’t tell me. She hates me now..”

“With good reason.” Ashton looked at him. “Your new girlfriend gave her a fractured ankle.”

“Audrey isn’t my girlfriend.” Michael sighed. “And, I didn’t know Audrey was like that. I had no idea she would do something like that. Aspen told me about things Audrey did when Aspen was touring with Keith Urban, too. It’s all just really confusing. I want to know Aspen’s side of the story. Will you guys tell me what happened between them?”

“How do we know you’ll actually listen?” Ashton asked, still looking at him.

“I promise, I will.” Michael sighed. “I need to learn the truth..”

“Alright, well, the real story is kind of a long one.” Calum sighed. “What has Audrey told you?”

“She said they wanted to form a band but no one wanted a group, so Aspen went behind her back and got signed, while stealing Audrey’s songs.” Michael said.

“Okay, well, that’s a lie.” Ashton said. “They did want to form a band, but Aspen didn’t go behind Audrey’s back or steal songs. The producer wanted a country artist and signed Aspen because she’s country, Audrey isn’t. Aspen licensed the songs she wrote. She didn’t steal anything from Audrey. Audrey has someone write all of her songs for her now, how do you explain that with Audrey’s lie?”

“I-I don’t know.” Michael sighed. “What else happened?”

“Aspen’s producer sent demos to other labels for Audrey, because he did think she was talented. One of them signed her, but she was dropped because she couldn’t write songs.” Luke said.

“Audrey was bitter about everything and decided to start the rivalry. Aspen did nothing wrong, and she’s paying for it. She lost you, because of Audrey’s lies. She’s currently on crutches, because of Audrey’s bitterness.” Calum said. “Aspen loved you, Mike. She really did. Now, she feels betrayed.”

“She loved me?” Michael looked at him. “How do you know?”

“Are you blind, mate? The way she looks at you, the way she acts with you.” Ashton sighed.

“But, she doesn’t believe in love.” Michael said, looking at the sand.

“She may not believe in it, but she loved you. She probably still does. You need to talk to her.” Luke sighed.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.” Michael sighed. “She doesn’t love me, she hates me.”

“Do another one of your little picnic things.” Ashton said. “Make her listen.”

“I feel so stupid..” Michael rubbed his face. “I should have listened to you guys. I should’ve listened to her story. It makes so much more sense than Audrey’s.”

“It’s not your fault.” Ashton sighed.

“Audrey also told me that Aspen lied about her life. And that she lied about her family.” Michael looked at them. “How do I know who’s right about that?”

“Talk to Karmen. She knows everything about them.” Calum shrugged.

“Yeah, Karmen’s always watching.” Michael said, getting up. “I promise, I’ll listen to you guys next time.”

“There better not be a next time like this.” Ashton laughed. “We love you, Mike. You’ll always be our best friend.” Michael smiled.

“I love you guys, too.” He smiled and walked away to find Karmen. “Hey, Karmen, you got a second?”

“Yeah, what do you need?” She asked, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“I wanted to ask a few questions about the Hanson’s.” He said, leaning against the wall with her.

“What do you want to know?” She asked, looking at him.

“What were their parents like?” Michael asked.

“I only ever met their mother, their dad was long gone before Carter and I met.” She sighed. “Jerry was awful to them. He was abusive, specifically to Aspen. He hated the fact that he had a daughter. When he left, he tried to take the boys with him, but Betsy wouldn’t let him. So, he just left. Not even a goodbye. Betsy went downhill, always drinking. Their house was a really dangerous place to be. Betsy wasn’t as much abusive as she was scary. She would throw bottles at them, but never hit them with anything. Aspen was still pretty young then, and Carter didn’t want her to grow up thinking home was supposed to be scary and dangerous.”

“So, he moved out and took them with him?” Michael wondered.

“Pretty much. He was 18, so he took it to court and got custody of them. He brought them here to live with their grandparents.” Karmen explained.

“Did their grandpa really try to marry Barb?”

“Oh, absolutely. She still wears the ring.” Karmen nodded. “It was such a sad time. Things were finally turning out right for them. “

“What about Connor?”

“Shh.” Karmen said, covering his mouth. She looked around and made sure no one was around. “Who told you about him?”

“Aspen did.” Michael looked at her. “So, he’s real.”

“Of course, he’s real. Who told you he wasn’t?”

“Audrey.”

“Of course, that bitch did.” Karmen laughed dryly and finished her cigarette. “Look, Audrey is the definition of evil. She’s known Aspen since they were kids, and she uses everything she can as blackmail. Aspen used to wear a purity ring, but she also still fooled around. She wasn’t always what people call a ‘good girl.’ She put on an act, but when you grow up the way she did, you’re bound to act out. She knows about Aspen’s depression and she thinks it’s a joke. A few years ago, Aspen attempted suicide. Audrey made a big deal of it in the media and they had a hayday tearing Aspen apart.”

“Aspen has depression? She must be good at pretending now.” Michael sighed.

“When you live a life so out in the open, you can’t let people see certain parts of you. Mental illness isn’t exactly something that the media cares about hearing.”  

“So, why don’t they talk about Connor?” Michael asked.

“Would you want to talk about your sibling that died in a war we shouldn’t have been fighting?” Karmen asked. “They don’t talk about it because they were young when he died. They hardly knew him, and it’s hard to honor someone’s memory when you don’t know anything about them.”

“I guess that’s a good point.” Michael sighed.

“I need to get back inside. I’ve got some things to add to my notes.” Karmen said.

“One last thing, how much publicity do people get from your articles?”

“I could end your career with what I write, that’s how much publicity my articles get.” Karmen said, walking inside.

That night, Michael knocked on Aspen’s window. “Aspen, open up.” Michael whispered, tapping on the window. Carly got up and opened the window.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Carly sighed.

“Please? I really need to talk to her.” Michael sighed.

“About what?” Aspen asked, keeping her back to the window.

“Everything.” Michael said. “Please, come on an adventure with me.”

“Fine, I’ll go.” Aspen sighed, and got up. She grabbed her crutches and walked to the window. She carefully climbed out and Carly closed the window. “You better have a good reason for this.” Aspen huffed.

“I do.” Michael smiled a little. “Hop on.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, getting ready to get on his back.

“Of course, it’s partially my fault you got hurt.” He sighed. She jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You’re right, it is.” Aspen rolled her eyes.

“We have a lot to talk about.” Michael said, carrying her down to the lake. He set her down and laid out the blanket.

“Like what?” She asked, sitting down.

“Literally everything.” Michael said, sitting down. “The boys told me your side of the story. It makes a lot more sense than Audrey’s.”

“Yeah, because it’s true.” Aspen rolled her eyes. “What’s in the basket?”

“Chocolate covered strawberries.” Michael said, opening the basket. “I’m sorry, I never asked for your side.”

“It’s okay, no one ever does.” Aspen sighed and reached into the basket, grabbing a strawberry.

“I should have. I was much closer to you than I am with Audrey, I don’t know why I blindly believed her.” Michael sighed.

“She’s good at manipulating people.” Aspen shrugged. “She’s always been good at it.”

“I wish I had asked you about the rivalry before her.”

“I’m actually impressed with her. She’s getting better at telling fake stories about me.” Aspen rolled her eyes and ate the strawberry.

“Can you ever forgive me for this?” Michael asked, looking at her.

“Of course, I forgive you, Mike.” Aspen smiled a little. “No one’s ever taken me on an adventure just to apologize.” Michael smiled and leaned over, pressing his lips to hers. She smiled against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed this.” She whispered.

“I have too.” Michael smiled, kissing her again. She kissed back gently before pulling away. “Hey, I wasn’t finished.”

“Shh.” Aspen said, feeding him a strawberry. She giggled and ate one of her own.

“So, when do you get out of the crutches?” Michael asked, eating another strawberry.

“Wednesday. I get the cast taken off and a boot put on.” Aspen sighed.

“It looked really bad the night it happened.” Michael said. “Rian carried you in and I thought you were dead. I had no idea what was going on. You were all on the opposite side of the room. You were dead, Calum was soaking wet, Luke had cuts on his arms and twigs in his hair, Carly’s clothes were torn, Leigh Anne and Jade had awful poison oak. I was so confused, but everyone was glaring at Audrey.”

“Trust me, if Audrey could murder me and get away with it, she would.” Aspen sighed. “I’ve learned to sleep with one eye open.”

“You won’t have to worry anymore, I’m here to protect you now.” Michael said, kissing her head. Aspen smiled and leaned into him. “Ashton told me something interesting earlier today.”

“Did he now?” Aspen looked up at him.

“He told me that you love me.” Michael said, looking down at her.

“You know, I don’t believe in love.” Aspen reminded him.

“Yes, but you never know.” Michael shrugged. “Cuz, you know, I love you.”

“No, Michael.” Aspen said, moving away from him. “You can’t. Take it back.”

“Aspen, it’s okay. I’m not expecting you to say it back, or anything.” Michael said, reaching out to her.

“Michael, you can’t love me. It’s not safe, for either of us.” Aspen shook her head.

“What do you mean?” Michael asked.

“Audrey.” Aspen whispered.

“What about her?” Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“She’s a master of manipulation. She can make you think things aren’t what they are.”

“Aspen, what are you talking about?” Michael shook his head.

“I’ve had two boyfriends in my lifetime.” Aspen said. “One summer here, I met this guy. We really hit it off and we started dating. Audrey swooped in and within a week, he thought I was the devil. She made him believe all these things about me that weren’t true, just because she didn’t want me to be happy. It wasn’t even that she wanted him, she just didn’t want me to have him. Then, there was my first relationship as a celebrity. He’s the one that said he loved me, and then cheated on me. He cheated on me with her. She convinced him that I was cheating, so he slept with her as retaliation. I guess he liked it, because he continued to do it for months before I found out.”

“You know I wouldn’t let her come between us again.” Michael said, grabbing her hand.

“I want to believe you.” Aspen said, tears filling her eyes. “But, it would never work. Audrey always wins in the end.”

“Hey, I love you, Aspen. I wouldn’t let her take that from you.” Michael said, cupping her cheek. A tear fell down her cheek as she looked at him.

“I can’t lose you again..” She whispered, looking up at him.

“You couldn’t lose me, even if you wanted to.” Michael said, kissing her forehead.

“I’m already going to lose you when the summer ends. We can’t be together, Mike.” Aspen sniffled. “Our jobs make it nearly impossible.”

“We just have to work at it. Baby, I know we could make it last.” Michael said, wiping her tears from her cheek. “You won’t lose me.” He whispered, kissing her gently. She kissed back slowly before pulling away.

“Promise?” She whispered.

“I promise.”

[abeautifulblog]

is it hard writing for a character who dislike small talk?

Robert’s dialogue is rather difficult in general, but his aversion to small talk isn’t my biggest stumbling block. (Although yeah, sometimes I’ll find myself starting to write a “What have you been up to?” conversation and it’s like, NO, NO, ROBERT DOESN’T DO THAT. You have to find some other way to get that information out.)

Robert’s randomness is the hardest part, his really offbeat responses -- like his bullshit stories, like him when he’s manic -- because my bipolar friends do make those kind of mental leaps, and they’re startling and clever and funny. But I don’t experience mania myself, and it’s really hard to fake that kind of effortless creativity, it’s just not where my brain goes. I have to premeditate my humor more than people like Robert, who can do it off the cuff, so a lot of Robert’s better lines have wound up being things that got added later, after I’d had time to think up a good response, in the “insert jokes” stage of editing.

I feel like I have a good handle on what’s going on inside his head, what he’s feeling and what his bleakly ironic thoughts/reactions are -- but he also keeps 99% of that shit to himself, and so much of what he actually says is misdirection, or engaging with you on a superficially humorous level only. So there’s often this split-second jump between his internal monologue and whatever completely unrelated thing he says out loud, and I sometimes have trouble making that jump.

(It’s also why Robert’s never had a manic episode in the fic -- because I’m not sure I could write that properly. Maybe from the outside, like Gene watching Alex’s manic episode in The Old College Try, but not from Robert’s POV. The closest it comes is a mixed episode he has in the final chapter, but even that is narrated from Gene’s POV.)

And his bullshit stories, oh man. I had the worst time with those in the beginning, until I realized that they all seem to be Robert trying to communicate, to convey what he’s feeling, if not what actually happened. That a lot of them could be read as a 1:1 cipher for the truth, and after I realized that, the stories practically wrote themselves -- Joseph the Zodiac killer, Betsy rescuing him from Russian mobsters.

But that said, Robert’s dialogue isn’t weird all the time, or even most of the time -- those just happen to be the most memorable parts. Early on in the fic, I was replaying the game to reacquaint myself with Robert’s speech patterns, and I was surprised at how much of his dialogue is actually quite mundane. I’d been feeling the pressure to make him ALWAYS WITTY, but he’s not; you can let him take a break sometimes.

He’s not a social maladept, he does “normal” things like thank you for a nice evening, and apologize for having been AWOL between the first and second dates. You have to press him to talk about his feelings, but when he does, it’s as honestly as he understands them and he never tries to downplay it with jokes or a layer of irony. Which is kind of your cue to respond with as much seriousness as he’s telling it to you.

Think of Robert’s random humor and his bullshit stories as performative -- it’s what he puts on for most people, to make them like him (Robert’s so funny, he’s such a cool guy to have around!), to distract them from what he’s really going through. It’s when he starts to trust you that he lets himself show you his more serious side; he extends a little faith that you’re going to stick around even if he’s not being entertaining 24/7, and he wants to confide in you.

[saintcheesus]

Hi, I heard from a friend that you were doing ficlet request. I have three. The first one is Damien gets Robert a really cool knife for their anniversary to go cryptid hunting and Robert's just like marry me. The second one is Robert and Damien are getting busy (smex) when Lucien comes home early and Damien hides Robert. The third one is Damien is self-concise about his body and Robert wants to take him to the beach, so the compromise is they go to the beach at night and have fun.

Nonny bless you for these fic prompts! The problem withtumblr is that I can only answer the ask once (unless I keep reblogging thepost with the additions of the fic requests but that’ll be a dash-clogger) ifyou see this ficlet and you would like to send each fic request separately that’sfine, or if you would like to come off anon and I can personally tag you ineach that’s also fine!

I’m going to do the third one first because that was the oneI was planning to add to my fic Love That Dad! But with Lucien coaxing himrather than Robert, but I am still very excited to do it! Here goes nothing

~~~~~~~

It was admittedly one of the hottest days in the year. Theseason was about to turn and of course mother nature (the most elusive cryptidof all if you ask Robert) decided that this was the time to scorch everyone onearth, the residents of the cul-de-sac more specifically. He was certainlyroasting alive in his tiny house, he should open a window, but it would onlybring more heat in. He already drank a whole case of ice cold beer and all itdid was make him sad. So now he was hot and sad, in that order. There wasnothing on television, and if he watched another show where people ran aroundbeing scared by “ghosts” then he was sure he was going to throw himself to theDover Ghost. He made a little tub of ice water for Betsy, she seemed satisfiedenough. Her little body just big enough to fit inside of the plastic bin, hertongue lolled out of her mouth. She was sleeping. He smiled, she was dumb butshe was his dummy and he loved her.

He got up, shedding his sweat-soaked shirt. He was prettyhairy, so that meant that hot days were even hotter for him and that meant thathis water bill was going to be through the roof this month. He chucked it inthe hamper and went to go the bathroom but then an idea ran through his head.

He wanted to go to the beach. But not by himself, and notjust with Betsy, she had no head for conversation. He got out his phone andscrolled through his small list of contacts. Brian? Nah, he was going to bringhis daughter and talk about how great she was and he didn’t need to be remindedof what a shitty dad he was. Mat? He was cool, and made good coffee, maybe theycould chill and drink a jug of ice coffee. Nah, Mat got nervous around people,and that meant small talk and no bouts of silence that he wanted. Craig? Hardno. It would end up being a workout and he doesn’t need to get anymore sweatythan he already is. Fuck Joseph, automatic no. Mary? She was pretty much downfor anything. He sent her a text. She replied quickly saying that she andJoseph had to go to the church for some meeting about renovations, shortanswer: no. Hugo probably would prefer to stay indoors and read so he wasn’tgoing to even text him. That only left Damien.

Damien was cool he guessed, Mary knew him longer than shedid himself and she never badmouthed him. The three of them only hung out a fewtimes but it was fun. And he was the only person that knew what a cryptid was,and enjoyed being in cemeteries at ungodly hours of the night. His son was alittle shit but Damien loved him so that was enough for him. He tapped onDamien’s icon (which was a picture of Nosferatu) and the message box opened. Hestarted to type a message but then remembered that Damien preferred moreintimate modes of communication, like letter-writing, or face-to-face.

To Robert that translated as clever ways to claim his victims.He got up and looked out the window. He was home because the car was in thedriveway.

“Dude’s got to be burning alive in that house.”

Guy’s house was all black, and the inside was just as dark.He sighed, he wanted companionship, and the suspected vampire was just the onehe needed. He picked up his leather jacket and looked over at Betsy, who wasn’tmoving anytime soon. He went to the freezer, got the bag of ice and poured somemore in the bin.

“I’ll be back for you little lady.”

Betsy only boofed in response. He left the house and prettymuch ran to Damien’s house. He knocked on the door and waited a moment.

“He’s not a vampire, Robert…he’s not gonna eat you…he’s justinto Victorian stuff…definitely wasn’t the inspiration for Dracula…get ittogether!”

He wasn’t kept waiting long because the door opened and insteadof being greeted by the Goth Prince himself, he was greeted by just…Damien. Hewas wearing a black tank top and purple shorts. His hair was tied up and he waswearing his glasses. Robert thinks he’s never really seen him like this. Nopainted eyes, no contacts, just regular. Damien smiled and Robert always checksto see if there are fangs in his mouth. He’s safe.

“Ah, Robert! What brings you here today, friend?”

Damien’s jaw drops once he gets a good look at Robert. Thenhis cheeks go impossibly red.

“My friend…are you not wearing a shirt?”

Robert looks down. Oh, he forgot to put a new one on. Henods.

“Yeah, other one got dirty from my tangle with a bunch ofthugs last night. Almost thought I was done for, Betsy saved the day. That’s uh…that’swhy she couldn’t be with us today.”

Damien’s eyes widened. “Oh Robert! Are you okay, do you needme to call the authorities?”

Robert couldn’t hide the grin and laughed outright. Damien’sface straightened and he seemed unamused. “You are horrible.”

“I’m aware, Bats. Betsy’s at home chilling in her ice bath.”Damien pushed his glasses up. “You never explained your reason for being here.”

“Wanna go the beach?”

Damien looked uneasy suddenly and began fussing with the hemof his shirt.

“Right now?”

“Yup.”

Damien swallowed and Robert raised his brows. “Oh w-well, I…um…wouldit be possible if we were able…to go at night?”

Robert smirked and crossed his arms. “What, afraid you’regonna burn in the sun?” It was sunset now but still. Damien wanted to laugh buthe looked nervous and a little sad. He shook his head.

“If only that were the case…”

Robert’s smirk left his face as he stood straight, now genuinelyconcerned for Damien. “What, what’s the problem?”  

Damien pushed his glasses up and grabbed Robert’s wrist tolead him inside of the house. It struck him that Damien’s house felt…reallygood. Did he have AC? Well, if he was going to paint his house all black thenhe had to have been prepared for days like this. Damien crossed his arms andlooked at his feet.

“What’s the matter?” He asked again, surprised by thesoftness of his voice. Damien looked ashamed that he felt whatever he wasfeeling.

“I um…I haven’t gotten top surgery yet…”

Oh. Oh.

And now Robert felt like an asshole for not even consideringthat. Damien couldn’t even make eye contact with him and Robert, without thinking,pulled him in a hug. They were both shocked by this, and he forgot he wasn’twearing a shirt.

“Hey, hey…” He rubbed Damien’s back, “Don’t sweat it man, ifyou want to go at night, we’ll go at night, okay?”

Damien nodded and for a moment Robert forgot that noteveryone was as accepting as himself and the rest of the dads in thecul-de-sac. He pulled away, but clapped both hands on Damien’s arms and gavehim a reassuring smile.

“We’re gonna have fun, Bats. Don’t worry, I’ll see youtonight.”

“Yes, thank you. I apologize if this is causing you any inconvenience.”

Robert gave him a slap on the shoulder and walked out thehome. He turned back around. If only his son wasn’t so allergic to dogs then hewould have brought Betsy over to chill in the house until their date. Date.Huh. That sounded nice.

He came back promptly after the sun went down and it wasnight time. The plus side to the beach was that it was open all hours of thenight, if they went swimming they would just have to be mindful of their limitsbecause the lifeguards aren’t there. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and hemay have just gone home and slept because of the heat in his house, but when hewoke up, it felt a lot better. Betsy relocated herself to her doggy bed whichwas now soaked. He poured some dry food for her and left the house afterkissing her wet little head. He walked over to Damien’s house and knockedagain. Damien opened it and was wearing the same black tank, but crimson swimtrunks with it. He was wearing flip flops and Robert just couldn’t help butthink how good he looked in his trunks. He always thought that Damien washandsome.

“I apologize again, Robert. I’m ready to go.”

“Nothing to worry about, Damien trust me. I see you broughta picnic basket.”

“Oh yes, it’s my way of making up for delaying our outing.”

“You got whiskey in it?”

“Yes, I brought a flask just for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course not, Robert.”

So, he does have a sense of humor. They got into Rob’spick-up truck and drove to the beach. It was thankfully empty and still warmenough that the water’s breeze wouldn’t freeze them to death. Damien set downthe blanket and placed the basket in the middle. Robert was already in hisswimming trunks, well, his boxer briefs, really. He left his jacket in the car.

“You did not bring Betsy with you?”

“Nah, she was sleeping.” Robert noted that Damien soundeddisappointed. Damien started to take his shirt off and Robert couldn’t help butstare.

“What? Why are you staring at me?” Damien crossed his arms tocover himself and Robert shook his head.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I was just thinking about how good youlooked.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“No, I really mean it Damien. I find you attractive.”

“Really?”

“Do I love whiskey?”

Damien laughed and Robert couldn’t help but laugh too. Hewanted to find more ways to make him laugh. Damien sat down next to Robert andpulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“I’m afraid I have no head for whiskey, but Mary gifted mewith this bottle a few years ago and I thought that I would partake with you.”

He poured Robert’s glass to the top and gave it to him. Hepoured himself a glass and set the bottle back in the basket. They clinkedglasses and Damien took careful sips whereas Robert pretty much downed half ofit in one swig. Too used to shots. Damien chuckled and took another sip.

“The water is quite beautiful at night.”

“Yep.”

“In the Victorian era, the women were forced to use machinesto paddle them out to water to swim because the men found their bathing suits inappropriate.”

“Really?”

Damien nodded excitedly, happy to share all he knows aboutthe time period. Robert finished the glass.

“Assholes.”

“Quite.”

Robert placed the glass back in the basket and took Damien’sglass and placed it carefully in the sand. “Hey, you know I heard that there’sa sea serpent right here in this beach?”

“Has there?”

“Oh yeah, as long as ship and known to terrorize anybody whoswam in the water at night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t— “

“We’re gonna swim in it.”

Damien looked at him. His smile irresistible.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Damien…”

“Rob— “

Robert kissed Damien on the lips. “Yes…” He growled inDamien’s ear. Before Damien could recover from the shock of the kiss, Robertgrabbed his hand and rose running toward the water.

“Do you your worst sea serpent!”

“Robert, stop!” Damien laughed as he was being dragged intothe water with Robert. The only noises heard that night were the sounds oftheir laughter, and splashing, and after that, the sounds of them snogging onthe sand.

~~~~~

This was a lot longer than I wanted it to be I hope you like it! 

[alexsunmners]

5 times we were never alone and the one time we were + Alex ❤️

Alex Summers + this prompt list

A/N: Karley my love I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. @mvximoff @rax-writes wanna suffer too? anyway this is angst for days so enjoy y’all and also can anyone tell me what my damage is when it comes to water based metaphors bc idk wtf is going on there

inspired by (or something) neptune by sleeping at last

It was supposed to be just the two of you. It’s not, but itwas supposed to be. You smile tightly at Alex across the room, across the sofathat is now too full of your boyfriend’s friends to fit you next to him. Hesmiles tensely, apologetically back at you. I’msorry, his eyes say. I forgot youwanted it to be just us. I’m sorry. Your hands are cold as you twist anduntwist the hem of your sweater, another mechanical smile pulling at your lips.The movie on but it’s just background noise for you. It’s fine, you’ll tell Alex later. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. We’ll have time for us another night.Maybe you’ll remember it when you’ve had a less stressful week.

Maybe he will.

He probably won’t.

You don’t want to fight with him. You never wanted to fightwith him, but it feels like you’re suffocating under the weight of things thatdon’t work about the two of you, and you’d swear you were never thisincompatible before. Funny how things work out like that sometimes.

The movie plays on and you keep twisting and untwisting thehem of your sweater and stare blankly at the TV screen as you think of ways toavoid fighting when the others all leave for the night.

Raven is waiting by the door, hovering with tension evidentin her face as you stare evenly back at Alex. You can feel the uncertaintyradiating from her and you know she doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want tohave to be seeing this. It’s not her fault she’s seeing it, though.

“Alex, I told you. I can’t do tonight. I’ve been telling youall week that I’d be busy with the work function tonight.” Your chin is raiseddefiantly and you refuse to back down or to show the slightest sign ofweakness. He sets his jaw and exhales slowly.

“It’s another party. Do you have to go to another party withthe same twenty something people you’ve already met a hundred times-” he startsand you fold your arms.

“Yes, I have to be there, Alex. I have to go. I even askedif you wanted to go when it was first organised and you said no. Which is whyRaven is coming instead of you,” you remind him, a little too sweetly for theapology in your tone to be genuine.

There’s a pause that echoes sharply, like something isfracturing, breaking irreparably. Something is changing between the two of youand you don’t want to think about it right now, so you just smile tightly andmove to kiss his cheek and say “Another night, baby. I appreciate that youwanted time for just the two of us. Another night.”

You can feel him watching you as you turn on your heel and maketo leave, taking hold of Raven’s arm as you let the door swing shut behind you.

“So, how are you two?” The question hangs in the air, likebait in the water as the shark circles below, just out of sight. You risk aquick glance at Alex, offering him the chance to answer first, unsure just howmuch of the damage the two of you are willing to reveal to the other people atthe party. He meets your gaze and then as suddenly as if a switch has beenflicked, he smiles brilliantly and turns back to meet Betsy’s eyes.

“We’re great. Things have been busy lately, what with workand everything, but we’re both doing fine, if a bit tired.” You’ve only met heronce or twice before. She’s Warren’s girlfriend and she’s just trying to bepolite. She wouldn’t have known just how loaded the question she posed was. Alexcan feel the way your hand tightens slightly on his arm, and out of the cornerof your eye, you can see the way his smile flickers slightly, can feel the wayhis arm tenses briefly. The well-practiced façade of ‘fine’ is tired. Is rundown. Is barely believable.

The room is suddenly far too full and you wish you hadn’tcome to this party. You don’t even know who’s hosting. Someone from Alex’swork. Someone you’ve probably met before, but can’t remember. Maybe if youremembered who was hosting, you wouldn’t be fighting with Alex like youare-have been. Alex’s body temperature has always run high, but right now hisarm is ice cold under your touch, and you feel so distanced from yourself thatyou might as well be floating miles above everyone else.

The rest of the crowd is unaware of the tension risingbetween you and your boyfriend, but you feel it’s sharp talons dig into yourspine and you know they’ll stay there until you’re home, until the wave breaksand the latest fight begins.

You’re tired-so unspeakably tired. You’re sitting in bed,staring at a book you thought you wanted to read and wishing you were somewhereelse. You can hear the faint murmur of Alex’s voice in the next room, the lowanswering hum of Hank’s voice in response, but you can’t make out the words.You don’t think you want to. The exhaustion radiating through your body makes youfeel like you’re sinking down into the mattress and you’re hovering right onthe edge of dreamless, weary oblivion, but sleep isn’t overtaking you fast enoughto outrun your thoughts. You don’t know when loving him got this hard. Becauseyou do still love him, but these days, it doesn’t feel like loving him isenough to make things work for the two of you.

You haven’t fought much lately. It feels like you’re bothtiptoeing delicately around each other, hoping that the feigned peace willlast, hoping that if you pretend for long enough it might become real again. Itwon’t, and you both know it, and right now you’re too tired to let yourselfcling to a false hope. Your hands are numb as you set your book aside and you shiftonto your side, pulling the covers up to your chin and wondering idly if thingscould have been different.

Doesn’t matter now, though. Things aren’t different. Thingsare bad and you and your love and your exhaustion are caught right in themiddle of it all. There’s a low sigh from the other room and you hear Hank saysympathetically “I’m sorry,” and you wish you didn’t know what he wasapologising for, but you do. Or at least, you can guess. And you know it’s notHank’s fault.

You sit back against the sofa in the coffee shop, warmingyour hands against your mug of hot chocolate as you tune out the voices of Seanand Angel, chatting idly beside you, your gaze fixed on Alex’s back as he waitsin line for his coffee. It’s bittersweet as he glances back and smiles at you.You feel like you’re standing on thin, cracking ice, and there’s a pit in your stomachthat reminds you of falling. You’re tired and so is he. The carefullyengineered veneer of ‘fine’ is fractured almost beyond repair and you know yourfriends are all treading delicately around the both of you. The looks ofsympathy from the others is almost more painful than knowing that sooner orlater, you’ll have to call this whole thing off.

The hot chocolate burns your tongue a little as you take asip and you wonder absentmindedly if Alex can feel the end looming over the twoof you as clearly as you can. He glances back at you again, and the flicker ofsomething desperate in his eyes tells you he can. Maybe that’ll make it easier.Maybe it’ll feel more like falling asleep than drowning when you both finallylet go. You wonder if it would hurt less if you blamed him for it all. Even ifit might, you can’t find it in you to put all of the blame on him. It’s yourfault too.

The room is empty, except for the two of you and it feelslike the walls might cave in. He’s right there but there might as well be amillion goddamn miles between the two of you. You could reach out and touch himif you wanted to, but you’re afraid that if you try, your hand will pass rightthrough where it looks like he’s standing. It doesn’t feel real. None of thisfeels real. You force yourself to meet his gaze, dragging your own from yourfeet, your head feeling like it’s full of cement.

“Yeah. I get it. We-it-yeah.” The words slip numbly fromyour lips, and you’re barely paying attention to your actions. “I understand,Alex. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s the furthest thing from okay, but tryingto hold on, trying to prolong this would only make it worse. His brow isfurrowed and his eyes are distant and glassy and you wonder if you look likethat. Worse, probably.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice is low and hoarse and alittle desperate. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you.” His words are likea final plea for you to stop this, for you to reach out and take hold of himand pull him back to shore. You know that’s how he feels because you feel thesame way. But you know this has to be over. It’ll hurt, but if you cling tothis broken love you’ll only end up hating each other. You take a deep breathand square your shoulders.

“I’m sorry too. I hope-I hope we’re both happier after this.”This is the grown-up thing to do, you tell yourself. This is the right thing todo. It feels like you’re letting go of the safety raft, letting yourself driftaimlessly into the dark current. “I love you. I want you to be happy. And beinghappy means we have to call this off.”

Letting go feels a little like drowning, a little likefalling asleep. It’s different to how you thought but it doesn’t hurt any less.You smile sadly at him and reach out to squeeze his hand. He’s real. Hisfingers flex under your touch and he lets out a long, shuddery breath. “Yeah,”he says almost inaudibly. “This needs to be over, doesn’t it?”

Your smile has jagged edges and you can feel your head slippingunder the water, safety slipping from your grip.

“Yeah. It does.”

[jo-the-schmo]

Show Me (Breaking...Alternate Ending #3) Continuation of #2

Show Me #2

A/N: I am thoroughly ashamed, I hate everything happening right now. Why have I done this???

Wordcount: 1670

Warnings: General discomfort, I’m going to classify this as mild smut and I hate it so much, language as always (I will probably never write anything close to this ever again but I make no promises)

Tags (I am so sorry if you don’t want to be tagged anymore):  @midnightokieriete  @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty @meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demi-godamit @gum-and-chips @sweaterkitty-fluff @pinkyiger7 @littlemissshortcakes @msageofenlightenment @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandom-panda-221 @hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub @myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013 @itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-77 @phantastic-fandoms @hoshihime98@shinigamired @martapetrovic @robotic-space @tayahqr (lol) @asprinkleofmermaids @pinkyiger7 (I’m tagging you twice my friend!) @satellitesuga @rose-coloured-nihilism @okie-dokie-artichokeme @alyssumax@pandartist @marquiis-de-la-baguette @abi-sans05 @apandawithcookies (Adding you because you requested this)

It all must continue, the end is near for this line...

Why the hell am I supposed to do?! WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?! You were starting to panic. What the hell was that? I don’t see Alex like that!...Right? I don’t see him like that, right?! Did I initiate that? I can’t tell! It was...kinda nice… No! Stop thinking like that Y/N! He’s married! And the kids...and Philip! You can’t do this! You felt like you could still feel his lips against yours, the roughness of it, the scratchiness from his stubble. It was...intense, that seemed to be the word that fit best. Your face felt like it was burning. Okay, this has to stop! You decided to try and sleep. So you got ready for bed and laid down. Unfortunately, sleeping was easier said than done. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. You couldn’t figure out why either and that bothered you even more. Eventually, your eyes were forced to shut. It was cold and dark, at first. Then the blue light came back. It inhaled you into its frozen light. You smelled smoke, old smoke. Like a day old campfire. Then a voice faded in and sent shivers through your brain, your own.

“I’ve never been satisfied either…”

Your eyes shot open and you graciously took a much needed gulp of air. Your whole body felt weak, you were exhausted. For a moment, you didn’t notice the smell, simply relating it to your dream. But you weren’t dreaming anymore. The faint scent of smoke loomed over you. You looked out your window and saw a dark plume of ash coming from the front yard. Quickly, you got ready, changing into your work clothes. As you were about to reach for the door, you noticed your chair propped under the handle. Did I lock myself in? I don’t remember doing that… You shook off the eerie feeling in your gut and moved the chair out of the way and made your way out. That’s when you had a realization. A pamphlet came out today, important and discussing the affairs of Alex, smoke coming from the front yard. Eliza… You picked up the pace and as you ran through the hall, you saw another chair propped underneath a door handle. The study. You shoved it out of the way and busted through the door. The room was a mess and you had just cleaned it last night. The drawers were open and papers littered the  hardwood floor. Alex was laid down on the couch, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. You ran over to him, leaning over him and shaking his shoulders.

“Alex! Alex, wake up! You need to get up right now!”  He stirred a bit, he seemed to be having a nice dream. You felt bad to pull him out of it and welcome him with this sort of news. You tapped his face lightly. “Alexander Hamilton! Wake the hell up!” You said a bit more sternly.

“Titania…? What are you doing…?” He yawned, taking your hand and moving it away from his face.

“It’s Eliza! She’s making a monumentally horrible mistake for history, we need to go right now!” You helped to pull him up off the makeshift bed. His cravat was laying on the ground and his vest was unbuttoned. Looking back on it, you should’ve let him fix his clothes but neither of you were really paying attention to that. You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the study, through the house and out the front door. Eliza was throwing papers into a fire made on the front lawn, Rachel was standing off the the side watching.

“Betsy! What in God’s name are you doing?” Alex asked as he jogged down the front steps, you trailing behind him. She looked furious.

“Don’t you ‘Betsy’ me, Alexander! I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago! Burning the thing that pushed you away from me! These papers, your work, your obsession! I hope that you’re happy, because you’ve ruined me!” She threw the rest of the papers into the burning pile, you nodded to Rachel as she chased after her.

“Lady Eliza! Wait, we can talk about this!” You heard Rachel plead as they disappeared inside. You focused back on Alex. He kneeled down in front of still burning fire and picked up a burnt shred of parchment. He studied it, held it in his trembling hands but stayed quiet. You knelt down beside him and glanced at the piece yourself, it was the bottom corner of the original page. In very neat cursive it read as ‘Always yours, John Laurens’ Alex stared down at the piece, almost as though he was trying to silently apologize to it. You placed your hands on his, trying to calm the shaking.

“Shhh… It’s okay...Alex, look at me.” He didn’t respond. “Alex, please… Look at me.” You said a bit more softly. You gave his hands a light squeeze as he turned his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry Alex...I’m so, so sorry…” You could feel how hurt he was with his eyes alone. It wasn’t the years of destroyed work that bothered him, it was the memories now reduced to cinders that were getting to him. Alex had talked with you about Laurens in the past. No matter what label you put on their relationship, it still was real. You felt as though it was more than just a friendship but you never wanted to pry. He shook his head and you let him lean onto your shoulder. You shifted over so you would be in front of him, his forehead moving into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his back to pull him in closer, he seemed to find it comforting. You looked over at the door and saw Philip standing on the porch. You couldn’t figure out why you felt so conflicted, he seemed just as confused.

“Need any help?” He mouthed to you.

“No, I’ve got him.” You mouthed back. He nodded and went back inside. After a few minutes, you felt Alex start to relax. You moved your hand over to his and tilted his head up. “Are you okay to go back inside now? I can help you clean up the study a little bit.” You smiled sadly at him.

“Yes...I believe I’m alright now.” He sighed. He stood up and helped you off the ground. The two of you went back inside and made your way to the study, it was still as messy as it was before. You closed the door behind you.

“Okay, I’ll start with the papers…” I just did this last night! UGH! You went over and began to pick up the papers, you straightened them up as you walked over to the desk. But you felt a hand touch your waist, stopping you in your tracks. Your arm slowly fell, the papers going with it, landing back on the floor. You recognized the feeling, the hand specifically. Then you felt the person pressed against your back. “Alex…?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” He responded, his words hit the side of your head. “I just...wanted to say thank you…You truly helped me today, I’m not quite used to accepting help. Most people choose not to bother.” You stayed still as he spoke.

“Alex, of course I’m going to help you! I understand a lot of the stuff you go through and I really care about you…”

“I care about you too Y/N, more than I should admit. That’s why I feel as though I must remind you of something. I trust you with my deepest thoughts, which to me is worth more than my own life. I had hoped for you to trust me equally but last night...I had to have broken that trust. I was weak but that is no excuse for what I did! I made advances on you that were not for a just man to have done, I became the thing that you fear! I can’t apologize enough for how horrid I was...Look, even now it’s difficult for me to pull myself away from you!” His hand began to move away from your waist but you grabbed his wrist and snaked his arm back around. He was taken aback by this, and so were you.

“I do trust you Alex...That’s why I… What happened last night wasn’t one sided, Alexander.” You leaned back against his chest.

“Wait...What?” You could already feel your heart racing.

“I leaned into that kiss too... and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since...God, I sound like a terrible person, huh?” He took a deep breath after your answer.

“So you regret it?” He asked.

“It...depends on what you mean by ‘regret’. Do I think that it was a mistake? Yes. Did I enjoy it and can’t stop imagining it? Also yes. So, I suppose it just depends on who you’re asking…” He turned you around, you were so close. You could feel his breath on your skin. His hand came up to caress your cheek, his thumb trace lightly against your bottom lip.

“Is...this a mistake too?” He asked softly, you shivered.

“Yes…”

“Should we stop?” You took a moment to respond.

“No.”  He didn’t waste a second after that answer. He pressed his lips into yours, the same feeling of confusion waving over you. You backed up and ended up hitting the desk, your arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted you up to sit on it. You thought for a moment that you heard a sound from the opposite side of the room but you couldn’t be sure. He pulled away quickly, leaving you gasping for air.

“You know, you can always say no to this…” He informed you.

“I don’t think I know how.”  

[cooperjones2020]

Nobodies Nobody Knows, chp. 3

Summary: She is the lamp in Hero’s tower, the scissors in Delilah’s hand, the blood in Guinevere’s bed. She is a million and one metaphors and all of them are his undoing.

Some of the scenes from Second City but from Jughead’s perspective. More a character exercise than a story.

A/N: This chapter just did not want to come. But I’ve been sitting on it and now it needs to make its way in the world if only so I can move on. The second part of this scene will be posted tomorrow night and Second City should be updated Sunday.

A/N2: This chapter goes with Second City chp. 3 and I’m pretty sure requires it to make sense.

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11434950/chapters/25920375

Nobodies Nobody Knows one / two

Second City one / two / three / four / five (ao3)

He sees her open the door to the bar out of the corner of his eye, sees her spot him and head over. But he continues to type until she sets her bag down on the chair next to him. He hasn’t had a break through or anything. In truth, he’s typing his grocery list over and over. But it gives him a moment to adjust to her presence—the light floral scent of her perfume, the shift in the air around them that he can almost feel press against him—before he has to turn to look at her.

He saves his file and closes the computer while calling her out on trying to apologize for being on time. He’s not surprised she does. And he had gotten here an hour early on purpose. But still.

The small talk is going well, he thinks, until the bartender sets the drink in front of her, and in a flash she goes from peach to pale to puce to pink. But she does not appreciate his attempts to interfere.

When Betty gets up and walks away, Jughead convinces the bartender to take back the offending drink, though not before he swipes the cherries. Once the bathroom door shuts behind her, he bites down with his molars and slides them off the toothpick in one move, while glaring at the man.

He knows he’s being childish. He’s not jealous, per se. He knows he can’t have her, knows she doesn’t really want to be here with him. But he is surprised at the protectiveness that flares in his chest when he sees her looking so uncomfortable.

Also. It’s the principle of the matter. It’s rude. The man could clearly see they were together. Not together together, but you know what he means. The drink was clearly a power move meant to make them uncomfortable, to establish the other man’s alpha maleness.

It’s the kind of crap Jughead has very little patience for. He stands by his assessment: “What a dick.”

So all in all, the evening gets off to a rocky start. Though tequila definitely helps. Not the liquor itself, but the look in Betty’s eyes right before she takes the shot.

He’s not sure why he orders the round of shots in the first place. Tequila is definitely not his drink of choice, though he wouldn’t surprised if Betty sometimes drank it on nights out with her girlfriends. He supposes part of him just wants to see what she’ll do.

So when she asks him about it, he simply says, “Liquid courage, Betts.”

Then she gives him a patented Betty Cooper look. The one that says she’s incredulous that he would think she needed any more courage that she already possessed. The one that says she’ll rise to any challenge.

“You’re a bad influence, Jones.”

“Always.”

After the bartender has switched out their empty shot glasses for a more sedate bottle of beer and glass of wine, he prompts her, “So we should probably get started?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He watches her fiddle with the recorder, angling it so the microphone will capture them both.

She begins, “The sequel came as a bit of a surprise. At the end of The Final Fissure, you revealed the murderer. What story is left to tell?”

It is the question he’s gotten most often since the sequel was announced, so he has an answer already rehearsed. But then she catches him off guard.

“I was surprised when I first picked up Final Fissure and saw the genre. You gave up on your Philip Marlowe fantasies.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how much hard boiled crime fiction you’ve read, but it usually doesn’t turn out well for the women. You get to college and take one theory course, and all of a sudden all you can see is the male gaze and the forced dichotomy between the ingenue and the femme fatale.”

He is an utter ass. Worse than that, he’s a pretentious utter ass. And he knows it. Truthfully, he sort of always is, though he hopes not this much. But it’s what people expect out of 20-something white male writers. And it makes sitting next to her, talking like this, easier. It gives him a character to inhabit that isn’t Jughead Jones, still pitifully in love with memories of his high school girlfriend.

“Besides, you took over the story pretty early on and your voice—sorry, Betsy’s voice—was pretty insistent.”

She makes a face. “You just had to pick Betsy, didn’t you? Do you remember our third grade teacher called me that all year, no matter how many times me, or you, or Archie corrected her?” Of course he remembers. It’s a memory he’s confronted daily once it became clear that “Betsy” she would stay.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I tried to call her every variation of Elizabeth there is. Eliza stuck for a while but I kept writing ‘Betts’ in spite of myself so calling her Betsy saved me a ton of rewriting and annoyed calls from my editor.”

He wants to say: She would only every respond to Betty. She could only ever be you. But he doesn’t. They’re having an okay time so far, and he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Instead, he says, “Though she found other things to latch onto. She thought ‘Betsy’ was ‘too mid-century, not enough millennial.’”

Betty’s questions continue, strictly professional. Some of them he’s had before, but all of them have a unique Betty spin. He doesn’t know if it’s because she knows him that she knows just what to ask or if it’s that she’s really that good an interviewer. Probably the latter. After all, she doesn’t know him. And he doesn’t know her anymore.

“One of the big changes this time around must be your relationship to your readers. Have you felt the pressure of people waiting for this story, of what they might want to happen next? Has it affected you, either in your work or in your life?”

“Obviously the story starts in your head. But as soon as it’s printed, readers make it their own. It’s a dialogue in which they define the story—and me as the author, by default—as much as by who they are as by who I am. In the case of The Final Fissure, I was just trying to tell the story. Writing it was as much an act of therapy for me as it was a work of literature for everyone else. I wrote it as a teenager and then sat on it for many years, before I had the emotional distance I needed to edit it into a shape that would hold some broader appeal. This time around, it’s a little bit meta. Sweetwater Subtext is the same narrator coming back to a defining event of his life, trying to understand how it’s shaped him. Final Fissure was for me, but Sweetwater Subtext I did write with a specific audience in mind.”

“Not the audience who’s bought and loved it?”

“No, something a bit narrower than that.”

He fully admits he’s been rambling. It’s definitely part of why he sounds like an asshole. It’s okay when he looks straight ahead, but when he looks at her, when she blushes or bites her lip or pushes her tongue against her teeth, a little more of the filter between his mouth and his brain evaporates.

So yeah. Definitely shouldn’t have said that last bit.

It’s like standing naked in front of an open window. He doesn’t know if he wants her to see. He doesn’t know what he wants her to see.

So they muddle on.

“Did your routine change? Anything in the physical process of how you wrote?”

“Definitely. Being an established author has conveyed a huge privilege on me. The Final Fissure was written in spare time at school or late nights at the diner. I’m still a nighttime writer. I still can’t write at home, I need people around me to observe. But writing gets to be the focus of my day now. I’ve also gotten better at letting other people see my writing. As a teenager, I was obsessive about making it perfect first.”

“Oh I remember.” He smirks at her, just a little, then wider when her eyes crinkle in response.

“But now, sometimes it’s just get it on the page and send it off, especially if I’m under a deadline. Still, though, I like some feedback if only to reaffirm my own conviction that I’m headed in the right direction. Actually, Archie looked at a few chapters of Sweetwater Subtext pretty early on.”

“Really? I can’t see him as a particularly dedicated editor.”

Jughead can’t help but laugh. “No, definitely not. But it was more feedback on the content I was looking for, than the style. Whether I was crossing a line with anything.”

“Well, color me intrigued.”

“Good.” Yes. Concision. Good, Jug.

“I’m surprised Archie didn’t tell you I was moving here.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t exactly talk about you.”

“Right, obviously. That was stupid of me.”

He wants to correct her, to tell her he can’t bear to hear Archie talk about her, to hear him be so casual about the intimacy they share post-break up, an intimacy his own decisions have denied him. But that seems like a minefield he shouldn’t wander into two drinks deep.

“On a related note, what do you owe to the real people upon whom you base your characters?”

“That’s a question I’ve been wrestling with. The best answer I’ve been able to come up with, insufficient as it is, is honesty.” And he means it, even if he hasn’t been successful at it himself.

[hamilkilo]

Café Rendez-vous

Prompt: Reader meets up the boys at the coffee shop, and Alexander is in a heated argument with Jefferson. Also, fluff? Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad ft Jefferson X Burr (X Madison, but he’s MIA) 

 TW: Cursing, alluding to getting beaten up in a fight, black eye, sassy ham arguing with jeff, fluff??? Mention of drinking?

 A/N thank you so much for all of the positive encouragement and love! I didn’t know y'all liked Brawl in the Streets that much, so I’m pleasantly surprised! Thank you for everything! If you want me to tag anything, let me know! I want you to feel safe! Don’t be afraid to send in some requests! Please enjoy! 

 Word Count: 2456

 It was embarrassing to show up to work on Monday with a black eye, but after explaining what had happened to your boss, Mariah, she sent you home on a paid vacation. You didn’t think it was necessary, but she insisted. She said that it was just a token of thanks to her gallant knight in shining armor. You did recall her mentioning her girlfriend at some point… what was her name again? Betsy? Betty? Elizabeth? Whatever. It wasn’t really your business anyways. 

You returned to work on Tuesday, extra refreshed but fairly behind, and the week passed in a blur as you struggled to keep up. The only sign to you that time had passed was the fading of your war wounds. 

Throughout the week, you’d received the occasional text from one of the boys, asking how you were and if the bruises were fading. It was simple and distant, like mere acquaintances. However, today was Friday, and the boys were well known for how they spent their Fridays. You giggled to yourself as you recalled how bitter that thought would make Aaron. 

You were walking to your car at the end of work when you’d gotten the text from Herc. “Hey, Y/N, wanna join your favorite fight club for coffee tonight at seven? Xoxo Herc.” You smiled at the ground. He was such a teddy bear. You still couldn’t believe the ruckus you had caused by running away. 

You quickly shot him back a text as you got into your car. “That depends, is there going to be another fight?”

You couldn’t keep that silly smile off your face as you turned the engine over and backed out of your parking space. You began to drive, ignoring your burning desire to check your phone. The radio played quietly in the back ground, but you paid it no mind. You’d forgotten to plug your phone into the aux chord, so you weren’t interested in whatever was playing. 

When you got home, you quickly parked and checked your phone. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. Whatever you choose, we’re there… and besides, you know how Alex can be! Xoxo, Herc.”

You glanced at the clock. It was already past six. You got out of your car and went into your apartment. You lived up on the third floor. It was nothing fancy, but it was quaint, and it was yours. You quickly went into your closet and changed out of your work clothes. You knew you were going out, but it was to the Mudhouse Cafe, not to meet the Queen of England. The boys wouldn’t care how you looked. Besides, you were fairly certain they were all gay for each other. So instead of dressing to the nines, you pulled on a loose pair of leggings, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of slip-ons. You scraped your hair into a messy bun, then smiled in appreciation of yourself. You were so cute! You went into the kitchen area of your place and quickly fixed yourself a quick snack. You figured you wouldn’t be eating for a bit, and you didn’t want the boys to see your hangry side yet.

By the time you’d finished, it was already time for you to leave, so you grabbed your purse and hopped in the car. You plugged your aux chord in this time and sang along to Colors. You were in that kind of mood today. 

When you went into the coffee shop, you immediately spotted the boys in their usual spot. However, this time, Alex was arguing with another man. You rolled your eyes before you carefully approached. You wanted a front row seat the the drama, but you didn’t want to get involved.

 Alex was stretching up as tall as he could to go toe to toe with Jefferson. “-maybe next time you should consider thinking in that scientifically astoundingly small brain of yours before you open your fat mouth you useless f-" 

"Y/N!” Jefferson quickly exclaimed, looking over a furious Alex-much to his dismay. You blushed, swearing in your head that you had gotten dragged into this. 

“Hey, guys! Did you start the fight without me?” You joked as you stood on the edge of the group awkwardly. 

“I was just explaining to Jefferson how grossly incompetent he was-”

“I only suggested that you add another sex scene to keep the readers hooked-”

“Im not selling porn, I’m selling art-”

“Porn is art, and art is porn!" 

They had both started arguing again, and you bit your lip. You slowly tried to slip away so you could go order your drink. Hopefully, when you came back, they’d be calmer. However, as you walked off, someone came up beside you and threw an arm over your shoulder. You cringed away on instinct before you looked up and saw John beaming down at you.

"I’m so glad you decided to come! Sorry you had to see them squabble like that… We didn’t know Jefferson would be here tonight,” John gave you a timid smile as he apologized, and you laughed. He was so adorable.

“What was it even about anyways?” You inquired, your curiosity getting the best of you. You were both now waiting in line, John’s arm still resting over your shoulders. You blushed, but you leaned in to take in more of his warmth. This felt nice. Then you scolded yourself. You had to remember that he was already taken!

“Alex writes on the side, and as much as he hates to admit it, Thomas is a good editor, so he sends his work to him when he’s thinking about publishing. I mean, it’s always ugly, but it’s usually through passive aggressive emails and explicit comments on Google Docs. This time, Thomas suggested the addition of a sex scene, but because the advice is coming from his rival, Alex is going to argue… Even if we all know Thomas is right,” John muttered the last part under his breath, then sent a sly wink your way, which caused you to giggle. 

“So you’ve read it?” You inquired, eyebrows raising, and John grinned, showing his dimples. 

“Of course,” he almost boasted, and you could tell he was proud of Alex. 

“What’s it about?” You stared at his face as his eyes lit up, and he smirked at you. 

“Well, there’s this guy who moves to New York City with the aspiration to become this great actor, and he meets another guy from his acting club he joined while he worked a side job and searched for his dream role. And he’s really into this guy, but this other guy is taken… and he almost gives up when he and the guy share a kiss in a scene on stage, and he realizes that he can’t let this guy go. So he goes to profess his undying love or whatever, as cliche as Shakespeare could comprehend, and he was going to beg the guy to give him a chance, when he discovers that the guy is in not one relationship, but two! And he’s polyamorous! And the guy admits he loves the other one too! And it’s really a beautiful story about self discovery, but Jefferson is trying to get Alex to make it smutty. I do think a sex scene would be nice, but-”

“Y/N! Fancy meeting you here!” You looked away from John, who had been passionately explaining the glorious work of Alex, and saw Aaron grinning at you. “Don’t tell me you’re hanging around with this rambunctious bunch!”

You glanced at John, who nodded to Aaron. You turned to your favorite barista and grinned at him, “Don’t you recall the fight I started last week? If anyone’s rambunctious, it’s me!”

Aaron laughed and leaned on the counter, waiting for you and John to order. You cleared your throat, “Can I get the Mudpuddle?”

Aaron nodded, and wrote on a cup, then glanced at John, who shook his head. “I already got a drink.”

You fumbled in your purse for your wallet, but before you could fish it out, John had already paid. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he held his hands up with a sheepish grin. “Um, payback for defending my honor from the mob?”

You scowled at him, then gave him a smile. He was too cute to even be mock angry at. His arm was still around you, after all. And you hated that you liked it so much. 

“So anyways,” John leaned against the counter as you both waited on your drink, “as nice as a sex scene would be, Jefferson recommended there be one as the resolution of the whole plot, a kind of bring it all together and end it with a bang…” he winked at you to make sure you got his pun, “but Alex thinks, and I agree, that if he adds smut there, then he’s sexualizing the entire sexuality as a whole. Like, this is an identity, not a kink. The focus is about finding your sexuality, and hot sex would take away from the final statement of the book as a whole.”

He finally took a breath and glanced at you, waiting for you to say something. “I see where you’re coming from. I think Alex should stick to his guns on this one, but maybe he could satiate Jefferson’s desire by moving the sex scene to an earlier part in the book? I don’t know, I haven’t read it, but I’m sure Alex knows what he’s doing-”

“Y/N!” You took the drink from the worker at the counter and walked with John back to the group. Jefferson and Alex were still arguing. Hercules and Laf were completely ignoring them and appeared to be playing Go Fish on the love seat. 

“-I’d say stick to being a doctor, but you’d probably kill all of your patients-”

“You won’t be saying that when you wind up on my table after shooting your mouth off to the wrong person-”

“I’m gonna put you on your own damn table in a hot sec-”

You had gotten annoyed listening to them both argue, and for some reason, these boys brought out your more impulsive side. You moved quickly. Their faces were inches apart, and if they didn’t look so pissed, you’d have thought they were about to kiss. You quickly snatched both of their ears and pulled them down to face level so that they were both looking at you. Alex let out a string of curse words as he reached up for his ear that was in your grasp. 

“Stop squabbling; you sound like children! It’s annoying! You don’t have to agree with each other, but you also don’t have to scream insults in the middle of a coffee shop. If a sex scene is really that big of a deal, then I question if it’s about artistic integrity or more so about your lack of sexual activity in the past few months!” You heard a few of the boys snickering behind you while you scolded these two like the children they were. You took a deep breath and let go of their ears. Alex rubbed at his ear and huffed while Jefferson fixed his hair.

“It’s good to see you, too, Y/N,” he grumbled to you, and you gave him a wide grin. 

“Go hit on your boyfriend; I’m sure that’ll cheer you up!” You suggested, and he sighed before he ruffled your hair and went to go talk to Aaron.

“What in the hell was that, Y/N? I had him!” Alex raged to you, and you rolled your eyes, sipping at your coffee. 

“Did you?” You stared matter of factly. “There’s a difference between resolving an issue and quipping like kids.”

“It was my business to resolve-”

“Then resolve it in private; don’t insult the man in the middle of a coffee shop, Alex!” You scolded him, but then you noticed the bags under his eyes. He was being grouchy. He probably hadn’t been sleeping much lately. “Come on, Alex. Sit down and relax. You can deal with Jefferson later.”

He stared at you for a minute, calculating how much you’d annoyed him, before he nodded and sat down beside you on the couch. John sat on his other side, and Alex leaned his head on him. They were so cute… it made you bitter. You wished you had that. 

You crossed your legs and sipped at your coffee, but you were quickly startled when Herc started whooping from the love seat. 

“Aw, come on, ‘Erc! I know you saw my cards!” Laf poured as Herc pumped his fist. Herc was quick to give Laf a quick peck on the cheek, and you smiled to yourself. These boys were just so cute!

"So what’ve you been up to lately?” John suddenly asked you, and you quickly focused on him. 

You shrugged. “Not much… just work really. I haven’t been out much this week. How about you?”

“Work, mostly. I dunno, I took Alex to a fancy restaurant on Tuesday… that was nice. He needed a break from his all nighters and heart stopping amount of coffee,” John rubbed Alex’s back. Alex snuggled into John’s neck, and you shared a smile with John. 

“We were kinda disappointed when you didn’t text us at three in morning this week inviting us to drink with you,” Herc teased, and you blushed. 

“I’ve been too busy with work to drink…” you admitted. How long had it been since you’d had a drink anyways?

“Too busy to drink?” John asked incredulously. “'Ow you say? Nonsense!” Lafayette shouted, and you laughed. 

“Come on, you’re coming back to our place for some drinks!” Herc stood abruptly, and you blanched. It had been a while since you’d drank, and you usually drank alone on a quiet Friday night. You were a child away from being a wine mom. These boys were rowdy as it is… get a few drinks in them and you had no idea if you’d be able to manage them. 

John stood and put his arm around Alex, who was groggy and adorably codependent at the moment. Herc linked his arm with yours, and Laf did the same on the other side. 

“I don’t wanna impose…” you lamely mumbled, and Laf looked down at you, almost offended. 

“You could never impose on us, mon cher!” And you were quickly dragged out of the cafe. 

You trusted these boys, sure. But you had no idea what to expect once they were drunk. And you were even more concerned as to whether they’d still like you after seeing what you were like when you were wasted.