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rogershoe · 4 years ago

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Lights, Camera, Action

Part One

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho

(I’m so sorry, tumblr isn’t letting me properly tag some of these accounts ;(

Warnings: Age gap between reader and Daniel, slow burn? (Don’t know if that should be a warning haha)

Notes: I didn’t specify the reader’s age since I wasn’t sure what you guys would be comfortable with ;) Plzz lmk what the maximum age gap is that you all would be okay with or I’ll just decide on one myself haha (also lmk if you’d like to be in the tag list!!). This is my first Daniel x reader fic so plz leave ideas and suggestions! (I myself am not actually sure where exactly this fic is going lmao). Tysm for reading!!

p.s Huey Kerrigan is the actual name of one of the second assistant directors of Cursed :)

Sunday, January 6th 2019

10:16 pm

You opened your laptop nervously, your leg bouncing against your couch. It was your last night as a jobless woman and that both excited and scared you. You opened your email, scanning your mail quickly before your eyes landed on “Call Sheet”. You clicked on the email and saw that there were two documents attached. The second was labelled “Cast List”. Your eyes widened when you realised you would be finding out who you were working with tonight. Not tomorrow. Not at work. Tonight.

You forgot about the call sheet and quickly clicked on the one about the cast. As your eyes scanned the list, you gasped audibly as a name caught your attention.

“Daniel Sharman”

Daniel Sharman? The Daniel Sharman? The one you had been practically in love with when you were 17? (Not anymore of course).

Your heart beat faster as you scanned the rest of the list….”Katherine Langford”…….”Gustaf Skarsgard”..those were the only other two names you recognised so far. Now you couldn’t wait to get to work. You were even more eager but also increasingly anxious to wake up tomorrow. Would you even get to see the actors? If you did, would you be able to meet them? You had so many questions but no one to answer them. Trying to push all of the increasingly complicated thoughts out of your mind, you closed your laptop and got up off the couch to head into your room. You lived alone in your flat, full of piles of DVDs in a corner, two worn out but comfy couches, and your greatest purchase to this day….a large flat screen TV. You wouldn’t call your flat small, it was just…cozy. You looked around at the space admiringly before entering your bedroom and closing the door behind you

Monday, January 7th 2019

4:15 am

You woke up with a jolt, breathing heavily. You looked around for your phone grabbing it and swiping across the screen to turn your alarm off. You closed your eyes and laid down, breathing deeply.

The day was finally here. Your first day on set. You had to admit that by now most of the excitedness had been replaced with anxious thoughts. You attempted to ignore them as you opened your phone again to check your messages etc. Nope, nothing interesting.

At 4:25 you finally decided to muster up all the strength you had to pull yourself out of bed. You had to be at work by 5:30 meaning you should leave around 5:10.

You sat at the edge of your bed, rubbing your eyes. You hoped you wouldn’t fall asleep on set….you wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

You got up and walked into your bathroom. You looked into the mirror and immediately looked away. Waking up at 4:00 had only made your eye bags more prominent. Your hair was disheveled and eyes crusty. You tried not to look at yourself again until after you were dressed. You freshened up, washed your face, brushed your teeth etc before going back in your room to wear your clothes.

You had had an outfit ready since last week. They had told you to wear comfortable clothing and comfortable shoes. The most comfortable thing you had were sweatpants but you knew they didn’t mean those so instead you settled for a pair of your most comfortable jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

You changed and then went to your dresser. After some concealer, mascara, and tinted lip balm..you looked a bit more presentable. You could’ve gone completely barefaced but it was your first day and you wanted to look good.

The nerves could’ve killed you at this point. It was exactly 5:05 when you grabbed the call sheet you had printed this morning, your phone, your keys, and headed out of your apartment. You rode down the elevator and arrived at your car, a second hand red Fiat.

You fumbled with your keys before pressing a button and unlocking your car. You sat in the front seat and started the engine,

5:28 am

You pulled into the parking lot of the studio and parked your car in the “crew” area. You hoped this wasn’t the director’s spot or anyone else’s for that matter. As a production assistant, you were right at the bottom of the film crew ladder and answerable to any and everyone on set. Although that thought scared you, you were completely new so hopefully they would cut you some slack.

A week ago when you had gotten a call from the second assistant director (AD), he had told you to come into the building and find him. From there he would tell you what to do.

You walked around to the back of the building where there were six or seven people walking around with headsets, setting up chairs and tables. There were also several trailers set up in the parking lot, no doubt some for the actors. You nervously went up to one of them,

“Hi, where could I find the second assistant director?” you asked

“You’re new?” he replied ignoring your question.

“Yeah” you said smiling slightly

“PA I’m guessing?” he said and you nodded

“He’s in the studio, ask any of the crew inside, they��ll know” he said and smiled, opening a chair.

“Thanks” you said and quickly walked inside through the back door.

Inside it was exactly like what you had imagined. People bustling around, many sporting walkie talkies and headsets. Some held papers, some were talking to each other. You stood in a hallway lined with grey walls. As you walked through the halls you came upon what you guessed was the main studio. It was huge, you could barely see the roof through all of the lighting fixtures. There were multiple props on set but you could tell that the set hadn’t been completely set up yet. This wasn’t the only studio though of course. Judging by the size of the building, there were probably multiple sets. You were in awe for a few moments before realising you had to find the AD. You went up to someone who was setting up water bottles on a long white table.

“Hey, would you happen to know where the second AD is?” you asked

She looked over her shoulder, her short blonde hair tied into a small bun at the back of her head,

“Yeah he’s right over there”, she pointed towards a man who was holding a clipboard and also wore a headset. He had black hair and glasses and looked to be about in his 40s.

You smiled gratefully at her before turning around and walking towards the man. He was looking at his clipboard intently, chewing on his black pen. Your heart beat faster, you hoped he was the right guy. You walked up to him, keeping your distance..not wanting to disturb his thought process.

“Hi I’m Y/N’ you said quickly, waiting for his response. It didn’t come. After a few seconds he looked up at you and put his pen in his pocket.

“PA right?” he asked unconcerned.

“Yes” you said letting out a breath, at least he remembered you.

“I’m Huey Kerrigan”, he suddenly started past you, towards the hallway. You followed him not knowing what else to do. He pointed at the large white table the girl was setting bottles of water on,

“This is the snacks table, you’ll have to set it up in the morning and also restock it throughout the day”

“Got it” you said quickly, not wanting to seem like you were ignoring him

He walked in front of you passing through the hallway and swerving around the many other members of the crew. He walked through the back door you had just passed through a few minutes ago into the cool fresh air. You took a deep breath and followed him to what looked like a charging station beside the tall concrete walls of the studio.

“These are the batteries, aka hot and cold bricks” he pointed to two crates and a table on which there were multiple charging batteries. The “station” was covered by a large white canopy.

“Hot bricks are charged batteries and you must have one on you the entire time in case a crew member needs it. They’ll give you their dead battery aka a cold brick and you bring it here to charge” you were silent for a few seconds trying to process what he had just told you.

“Got it?” he asked

“Yeah…got it” you stuttered smiling nervously

He continued walking and took you right to where all the trailers were parked.

“This is the basecamp,” he said, waving his hand towards all the trailers.

“All the actors’ trailers, the hair and makeup trailers, they’re all here”

You felt a jolt of excitement before remembering to reply, “Okay, cool”

He nodded and continued walking throughout the several trailers, there had to be at least forty. You also scanned your eyes over the area, hoping to maybe get a glimpse of the actors or their trailers.

As if he read your mind he said, “The talent isn’t here yet. They arrive around 6:20 am, get their hair and makeup done and start shooting around 8:30 am….of course this all depends on the day”

You nodded, making sure he saw you.

For the next 20 minutes he showed you around the basecamp and exactly where the makeup and hair trailers were. He also told you about how you never talked to the talent unless you had something to tell them, they had to be somewhere, or if they talked to you. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, you weren’t surprised but had still hoped you’d get a small chance to maybe have a chat with the actors.

When you went back inside you saw that the studio had completely transformed. There was one set which looked to be a room with three or four beds and wooden features. Another set opposite that was of what looked to be a marble room with shelves and a white bed. It all looked so realistic that if you were in the set area you wouldn’t have even realized you were in a studio.

“We’re shooting a scene today from episode three, these sets” he waved towards the area, “are from scenes taking place in an abbey”

He stuck a hand down his pocket, wiggling his fingers about before removing it holding a crumpled paper.

“This is the main cast in these scenes,” he said, handing it to me. I nodded quickly grabbing and unfolding the sheet.

Main cast list for abbey scenes

Katherine Langford

Peter Mullen

Daniel Sharman

Shalom Brune-Franklin

Emily Coates

Sophie Harkness

Caroline Lee Johnson

Gabriel Akuwudike

Your heart leapt inside of you when you realised you’d get to see all these actors today.

“You’re green so you won’t be needing the list today” he continued and you looked up from the paper, “but in a few days, you will”

You guessed green meant someone who was new.

He walked further into the studio, to the large snacks table and handed you four bottles of water. “You first task” he said smiling, “take these to the grips over there”. He pointed to four men on ladders adjusting the lighting above the wooden room set.

“Okay sure” you said grinning, happy you could start working.

“And then go over to the team of PAs and ask what else you can help with”

Before you could reply, he abruptly walked away and out of your sight. You took a deep breath and walked over to the set where the “grips” were. The set was amazing, the sheer detail of the beds and the door and the walls and the small trunks at the end of each bed were unbelievable. You took a few seconds to admire it before trotting over to the three men and one girl. You looked at your watch, it was 6:11 am.

“Yeah, just screw it a bit tighter” one guy said squinting at the light fixture from the ground.

A man on the ladder moved his hand, adjusting the light bulb.

“Hey, I got you guys some water” you said, hopeful they heard you

The girl grabbed the four bottles from you without a word handing one to the man beside her and putting the other two on the ground next to the ladder which the two men were currently on. She wore glasses and had long brown hair held back by a hairband.

“Thanks” she said glancing quickly at you and then getting back to work.

You smiled slightly, remembering that you really were on the very last rung of the ladder of crew members.

You walked away from the set and towards the snacks table, thinking of what to do next. You decided that you should go get a hot brick since that was something Huey said you should have on you at all times. After that you could come back inside and find the rest of the PAs.

You headed outside, having to be careful and not bump into anyone in the hallway. The fresh air was welcome after the several people brushing past you inside. You walked over to the canopy covered area to get a “hot brick”. You knelt down placing one knee on the ground to steady yourself. Before looking through the crate, you decided to tie your hair up since you saw that almost everyone on set had their hair somehow kept away from their face. As you were pulling your hair back, you saw a black car pull into the parking lot, a few spaces away from the crew parking. Your heart beat a bit faster as you tied your hair tie around your hair. Could it be…?

Although you knew getting starstruck was the worst thing that could happen to you as a PA, you couldn’t help but stay there as you tightened your hair, not wanting to remove your eyes from the car. It pulled into a parking space and you saw a man step out. As he locked the car and started walking towards the basecamp you realised it was exactly who you thought it was.

Daniel fucking Sharman.

Now your heart was beating fast, threatening to leap out of your chest. He was wearing a grey shirt, jeans and sunglasses and was walking towards one of the trailers, probably his. He was far from you but still, his eye caught yours as he turned his head towards the battery station. Your cheeks heated up and you looked away quickly, mentally slapping yourself. You had practically been ogling your eyes at him..and he had seen you. You knew he knew that you were looking at him. After a few seconds, you pulled yourself together, looked back in his direction and saw that he was entering his trailer his head facing forward again…the the door closed behind him and you let out a deep breath.

You scolded yourself..you couldn’t get this starstruck whenever you saw him or any of the other actors..they were human after all not some sort of gods. You turned towards the crates and grabbed a charged battery, putting it into your jeans’ back pocket. Although you tried to convince yourself that he didn’t have any effect on you, you couldn’t help but be delighted about your luck that you would be working with him out of all the other actors in the world.

Plz plz plzzz comment how you liked this first part! I need some feedback 😂😭

Part two

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penguintransporter · 4 years ago

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Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part VII

You know how I keep saying that this will be the last chapter, well, I have no idea myself if this is it, so let’s keep it open. This one is dedicated to my favourite anon and @virgilthesuperbabe (and not because of your avatar, just so you know. I genuinely think you’re the sweetest). This chapter is not edited all the way, but I was just starting to go in the circles. Anyway, me stops rambling now so read, enjoy and tell me anonymously or not what you think about it...

The faint odour of sweat tickled her nostrils as she stood in the same corridor ninety-something minutes later – the entire second half of the match feeling more like a blur than anything else. Glancing down at unfolded paper between her fingers, Aida sighed before looking up at the very same chaos of people surrounding her – staff, medicals, journalists and footballers in their sweaty kits walking towards their changing room.

She was on the edge – heart contracting with both anticipation and fear, and for the first time in a while, Aida felt like fainting.

Despite not seeing him at first, Aida heard his voice coming from the tunnel just seconds before he strolled in, long after his teammates have entered their changing rooms, talking to the goalkeeper of the opposite team. Both of them were laughing as Héctor flailed his arms enthusiastically, painting a picture to his story like a kid with lots of imagination.

Aida exhaled the breath that caught in her throat, feeling the shiver spread down her spine at the sight of him – cheeks and nose nipped red by the cold, hair gathered in ever so messy bun after running on the pitch, and the jersey clinging to his body in a way that made her own cheeks turn deep burgundy and her core warm.

There was a feeling of apprehensiveness growing inside of her as she watched him hug his mate, saying something quietly that made them both grin before they parted their ways, and he, without a warning, started walking towards her.

Aida took a quick breath, anxiously straightening her clothes before looking at him with a small and timid smile.

It is only Héctor. Remember?

Héctor gave her a knowing smile instead of the greeting as he stopped in front of her, tucking stray strands of his hair behind his ears. Not bothering to say anything, he pulled at the collar of his jersey before blowing wisps of air inside his shirt to cool himself down, looking at her through his eyelashes.

“Alright, unicorn?” he began, finally breaking the silence between the two of them. “You look a bit pale,” Héctor added, still blowing air into his shirt.

He sounded so casual; so relaxed while Aida only managed to open her mouth to say something, but as usual, no sound came out. She shook her head a little as if that would help her brain cells to rearrange as Héctor gave her an amused look with his eyebrows raised a bit.

“Uh, yeah…” she answered, rubbing at her forehead nervously, wishing for some invisible force to come down and knock some sense into her because God knows, she wasn’t able to do it on her own. “I’m alright, but I—that brochure you gave me… I found—,” Aida stopped to take a breath, realising quickly that she wasn’t able to express herself with words without sounding like a mess, so instead, she lifted her hand with the paper that looked as if the dog had been chewing on it for some time – fingers shaking a little.

“Oh that!” Héctor expressed innocently, rubbing at the side of his jaw with a grin.

“Yes, this,” Aida nodded, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, but she was sure that he could see the nervousness in her eyes as he took the paper out of her hands.

“We’ll have to print you another copy, love,” he stated calmly, looking at the partly scrunched paper, ignoring Aida’s confused face, “can’t follow anything on this one any more.” Héctor lightly hit the paper with the back of his free hand as he spoke, nonchalant as ever.

Aida wanted to groan in frustration.

She also wanted to slap him, shake him, make him stop with the theatricality and the entire beating around the bush game.

You also want to kiss him.

“Look, I am just trying… y’know—,” Aida trailed off – her stomach doing the all to familiar flip, feeling the heat suffocating her. She suddenly regretted wearing all the layers she had put on earlier that day. “What is this?” Aida finally asked.

She wasn’t stupid or slow – far from it, but she didn’t need to be a genius either to figure out what the contents of the paper in Héctor’s hand suggested. Aida knew that it referred to what she said that night – her poor attempt at flirting as they sat in his kitchen; the cocky smirk he gave her when she uttered those words, thinking that she was winning the game.

He gave her a wide smile, putting the paper between his lips before quickly pulling his jersey over his head, surprising her with his movements. Aida almost chocked on her own breath when she realised that the long-sleeved white shirt he wore underneath fit him like a glove, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her stare away as she blushed lightly.

Good Lord, what is wrong with me?

It’s been a while, Aida – that’s what’s wrong with you.

“This?” Héctor asked, unfolding the paper again after placing his jersey over his shoulder. “You’ve never seen an excel sheet before?” He moved to stand beside her, leaning closer, but quickly changed his mind, “Sorry, I forgot that I am smelly. It happens when I run.”

She briefly looked up at him, sighing defiantly, “Of course I’ve seen an excel sheet before, Héctor, and I don’t care if you’re smelly. I am just not getting—,” she moved her hand around as she spoke, pissed off with herself for not being able to focus.

“—Oh, so you want me to be close?”

“For the love of God...” Aida trailed off, getting impatient.

Héctor was obviously very entertained with her behaviour, containing his laughter as he straightened the paper between his fingers.

“I can explain,” he started, and Aida’s heart shifted in her chest a little when he placed his index finger on the paper, pointing at the first row. “Here are the items that I own. Obviously it is not everything because I own a lot of things, so I focused on the ones that I thought it would fit you,” he grinned, subtly checking her out from the corner of his eye as he moved his finger towards the bottom of the paper, “and then, here is the number of those items, and—.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she quickly interrupted him, holding her hand up to stop him from talking, “can you just stop and tell me if this mean what I think it means, Héctor?”

“You need to be more specific, love,” he taunted, moving away so that he was standing in front of her again as he started to fold the paper.

Aida whispered a small profanity, closing her eyes for a second as she tried to gather her thoughts. If he was saying the truth and wasn’t taking a piss, then this entire thing meant—Aida couldn’t bring herself to even think about it.

Before she could say anything, she felt him lean closer, placing the paper in the pocket of her coat. Aida’s eyes opened in surprise and a single breath hitched in her throat when his fingers brushed against hers deliberately – a pleased smile dancing on his lips.

“You do realise that you still haven’t answered my question, and this—,” Aida left her words hang in the air as she glanced down at where he was moving his finger up and down her cold hand. “You’re not exactly helping, Héctor.”

“Ah no?” he asked with a smirk before retreating his hand and looking down at his kit – face expression changing from playfulness to a mild grimace. “Mind if I take a quick shower, unicorn, and then after that, I will be all yours,” he added with a wink and the only thing Aida could do was to stare at him wide-eyed and confused more than ever.

Stopping at the traffic light, Aida glanced at Héctor who sat in the passenger seat of her tiny and messy car, looking ridiculously out of place yet comfortable as he busied himself with reading the notes she had scribbled down on the sides of the book he found under her seat. It was an old copy of The Catcher in The Rye that she picked up on a South Bank book market.

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when she agreed to give him a lift home after he joined her at the parking lot, but now, that she was halfway the route, she couldn’t help but praise herself for not crashing into something because God knows that she was in a state do to so.

“You’re staring,” Héctor smirked to himself as he spoke – eyes still focused on the page as he turned the book sideways to read whatever she had written down. She quickly looked away, blushing and just in time to see the green light turn on before she started driving again. “I don’t mind it, though,” he added, glancing at her, “strokes my ego.”

“As if it needs any stroking in the first place,” Aida retorted quietly, making him laugh out loud – the sound of it quickly filling the space of her small vehicle.

Héctor’s house was quiet as they walked in and he dropped both his backpack and his jacket in the corner of the entryway before helping Aida with her coat, hanging it on the modern and expensive-looking coat hanger. Giving him a quiet thanks, she stepped away from him, turning around sheepishly on her heels – a rush of butterflies evading her stomach when she realised that he was watching her.

“Anything in particular you want to do?” he asked weaving his fingers through his hair as he pushed it away from his face.

Aida forced herself to look away from him – ignoring the shiver that ran up and down her spine as she let her mind wander further than she wanted to; further than she thought she could go.

Blinking few times, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind, instantly regretting it. “Can I see your garden?”

Beg your pardon, Aida?

Héctor was clearly trying to stifle his laugh while he watched her. “Is that how people call it these days?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows suggestively.

Aida wanted to slap herself.

Several times.

She groaned, shielding her eyes before peeking at him through her fingers like a little girl. A giggle escaped her throat, and she blushed ever so slightly at her idiot behaviour.

She was hopeless.

Héctor laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Come on, unicorn, let me show you my garden.” He gave her an encouraging smile before making his way through the small corridor.

Aida couldn’t bring herself to move, so she kept standing in the entryway for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself down before turning around – a sudden feeling of déjà vu greeting her. There were things that nagged her, and she needed answers to questions that kept itching at her brain like a weeks-old scab on a scraped knee.

He was in the kitchen when she hesitantly stepped in through the large hallway after ignoring the sitting room, dimly lit due to the blinds that covered the windows entirely – nervously pulling at the sleeve of her old, scuffed jumper. Héctor turned around, probably sensing her presence, giving her a smile that said absolutely nothing.

“I see you skipped seeing the garden. Want something to drink?” he asked taking out a glass from an open shelf.

Aida shook her head lightly – lips curling into a small smile that she had no strength to fight off. “No, thanks, but I do want to talk,” she spoke softly, the need to know the answers fighting off the nervousness, “you still owe me an answer, kind off,” she added as she leaned with her elbows against the kitchen island, “about the excel thing, y’know?”

He smiled at her, filling a tall glass with some tap water before taking a sip.

“It’s a lovely excel sheet, innit? It’s a hobby of mine,” he responded, as his smile turned into that smug smirk, and Aida couldn’t help but let out a snort that was all but ladylike, giving him an incredulous look.

“Do you take anything in your life seriously?” Aida asked, straightening her back and shaking her head a little.

“Mhmm, many things.” Héctor took another sip of water, “Global warming issues, God and my grandmother, among other things…”

“You are unbelievable,” she huffed in annoyance.

“But in a good way,” he continued with a wink.

It took everything in her power to keep her face straight, despite remembering the exact moment when he said those words to her. It didn’t help either that Héctor was looking at her before shaking his head in amusement as he made his way towards the sitting room.

“What’s so funny?” Aida inquired as she followed after him.

Héctor sat his glass on the dining table – his grin turning into a gentle smile, and Aida’s heart soared at the sight. He kept watching her from where he only stood few feet away, giving her plenty of time to stew in anticipation, and the only thing she could do was to twist her fingers nervously as she waited for his answer.

Instead of letting her nerves get the better of her yet again, she focused on the gold chain around his neck, the pattern of his jumper, the ring on his index finger.

“You still think that I am taking a piss,” Héctor finally spoke and as Aida opened her mouth to object, he silently interrupted her giving her a look that stopped her from saying or doing anything – including breathing, “—despite me spelling it out for you? Literally.”

Aida could sense that he didn’t want to have this conversation, and she suddenly felt bad for pushing it. “Sorry, I thought you were just…” she bit back the words she wanted to say as she nervously rubbed at her right eye with the bottom of her palm. She was getting overwhelmed, but she needed to know.

“’s okay,” he answered with a shrug before taking a step closer and reaching out to touch her face with his fingertips. “It’s a good thing that we are talking about it, no?” Aida couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him and meeting his gaze – feeling stripped naked of any words. “That blush just won’t go away, eh?” he asked – the vulnerability of his voice disappearing and a confident smile reappearing on his lips.

Aida was unable to move, and she was very much unsure of what to do with her herself when he ran a finger across her blazing cheek. She was fighting the urge to lean against his touch – to obey her own needs.

“It’s not my fault that your flirting game is at the same level as my football skills,” she blurted out nervously, teasing out a chuckle from Héctor’s throat.

Pulling her against him, his other hand tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before moving down her arm and stopping at the curve of her waist, leaving a trail of tingles wherever he touched her. Aida couldn’t contain her own smile at how he made her feel, and if there was one thing she wanted, it was to have him close, showing her what he wanted to say with that idiotic excel sheet that still rested in her coat pocket.

Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as he drew her face closer until there was just a fraction of space between the two of them, and she breathed out shakily when his nose touched hers – warm on cold; fire on ice.

Aida was boiling on the inside as he teased her with his touch, and despite having her eyes closed, she could feel him smirk which made her huff lightly.

He knows what he is doing.

The idiot knows what he is doing.

“Don’t think I don’t want to kiss you,” he murmured when Aida went in for a kiss but he moved away ever so slightly but still staying dangerously close to Aida’s lips, “but I also enjoy watching you squirm. You get all breathy and nervous,” he added.

“You are unbelievable,” she whispered, taking every ounce of her power, wrapping her arms around his neck before closing the almost non-existent distance between them as she kissed him.

❤

Tell me what you think...

#footballer fanfiction #football fanfiction #football fan fiction #football imagine #football oneshot #soccer fanfiction #soccer fan fiction #soccer imagine #soccer oneshot #arsenal fc fanfiction #hector bellerin fic #hector bellerin fan fiction #hector bellerin fanfiction #hector bellerin imagine

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benmcm18 · 4 years ago

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Group 7 Independent Project!

Pre Production -

This is the second time I’m working with Group 7. It is truly an honour to be surrounded by such talented people. We have learnt from last time and we thought it would be interesting to switch up the roles. Here was what we ended up with:

Director - Jack

Cinematographer - Bonnie

Producer - Heather

Production Design - Ben

Editor - Heather

Writer - Tom

Here were also the tasks we sorted ourselves:

Write a 1-page proposal (synopsis and directors statement) - JACK (13th May)

Make the movie - Jack

Make a plan and a schedule for your work - Heather

Create a mood board (Each character) - Ben

Create a sonic world for the film (no dialogue / no voice-over) - Heather and Ben

Cut together a series of still images or sequences of footage to create a 2min film - Heather

Record some sound effects using objects you have in your room/ house - you can record on your phone. - Heather and Ben

Source and use sound effects and Atmos sound on Freesound. - Tom

Make a storyboard + animatic - Bonnie

Source footage - eg shoot, take stills, source stills, or work with stock footage from Film Supply to envision your idea - Bonnie

Shot list - Bonnie

Scriptwriting and development - Tom

Present it at the crit - receive feedback - Everyone

Write a short critical reflection on your blog. - Everyone

Songs - Everyone

As Production designer I had to create a mood board. We had discussed in meetings what aesthetic we wanted to go for and I believe we ended up with a mixture between films like “Moonrise Kingdom” and “Fight Club”. Either way, these were two of the films I took inspiration from when working on the mood board of the film.

Additionally, I had to think of the costume for both actors. For the man I chose to instead of having major differences in the two separate costumes to instead change them subtly to give a feeling he is still grounded in reality. So that means I added the glasses, changed the tie and gave him a watch to switch up how he looked. The Imagination costume is inspired from Ewan MacGregor’s character in “Big Fish'' we wanted to give him a full blue costume originally but I realised fairly soon that that wasn’t going to happen. So I adapted and decided to use his ties as a means of stating which reality he was in. When he is in the “dream world” he has a very colourful yellow tie but when he returns to his office I believe we went with a black/red tie.

For the woman, I chose to give her a very colourful look. This was purely so she could match the imagination around her. I discussed with Bonnie about possibly putting flowers in her hair but for some reason we couldn’t find anything. In regards to the rest of her costume I gave her shades so that there would be a physical separation between the two. If he can’t make eye contact with her how is he supposed to connect.

Overall, I’m very happy with the costumes and for a first attempt I’m actually quite proud.

Finally, set design. I had recently worked on a project called “Pied” where I had to create a whole set for my actors. That was pretty much my crash course for this independent project. Using the knowledge I can gain from creating that set I tried implementing it into the office workspace and the picnic arrangement. I’m happy with it but it will honestly be down to you to decide if I did a good job. If I could mention any little “fun facts” about what I did here would be a few:

I used a ping-pong table as the walls splitting the workspace

I tried spreading the food along the picnic like a wall that separated the two of them.

There is a jar of pickles in one of the shots. I don’t know who would bring a jar of pickles to a picnic but I thought it would be funny

On the back wall of the office there is a bunch of hidden Easter eggs *HOWEVER* David’s massive head covers them up!

In regards to how the other team members did. We developed the script ideas until we landed on this one. Jack had a great idea about filming some really nice shots of food. We were actually quite a big fan of this idea. I just thought Heather’s idea would allow us to experiment more.

Tom then wrote a (very) detailed script in collaboration with Heather, Bonnie drew a genuinely fantastic storyboard (she is too hard on herself haha) and Jack prepared for the shoot. One issue that presented itself fairly soon was the fact we had two actors on set. However, our Producer (Heather) handled it like a pro and we managed to get the all clear. Overall, a very hardworking start with the promise of Bonnie doing a short animation for the storyboard. (I’m looking forward to hopefully seeing it)

Production -

The shoot day was very fun. We all arrived at 11:30am and we made our way over to the location. Originally, we had planned to film on top of a hill however, things quickly changed and Jack said there was a fantastic path to film on. I was fairly set on the hill idea (As I had imagined the scene being somewhat similar to the UP opening montage) but he said it was a better location and I trust him.

So this is where it got a bit funky. It turns out the location had been converted into a dirt road since the last time Jack had been there. This was a bit demoralising as we had carried a lot of props out but luckily we had seen a location closer to the beach that could possibly work and the rest was history. That very location near the beach ended up where we would film.

With Jack directing and myself on camera we began to make our way through the storyboard Bonnie had devised. I have to be honest there were parts where we deviated from what was on the storyboard: For example, there is a section where he falls over however it didn’t look natural so we thought of another way to film it. This was where I got a bit carried away with VFX. In the long run I’m pretty sure everyone is happy with it but I wasn’t too sure at the time.

Jack did well as a director, he worked well with David and Kady especially when it came to movements of the actors. There isn’t any dialogue in the scenes so it's mainly physical language instead of verbal. My only advice for Jack would be to do a bit more research on the project before going onto the shoot because there were parts of the shoot where actors would ask questions about their character and I wasn’t confident he knew the answer.

In regards to me, I find it very hard to create something someone else envisions because I’m used to directing and filming projects on my own. I definitely think I improved on this project and having the storyboard and detailed script was a big help. I also felt I should have been more prepared as it didn’t look very good in front of the actors with me fiddling around with the camera because I had set it up in the wrong position.

Overall, I think it was a very fun shoot and it went pretty smoothly. You're going to hit speed bumps on the way but I believe Jack and I handled them well.

Oh also, forgot to mention that I had to also record sound and label all the audio and footage for Heather (why do I almost call you Clair XD) It didn’t take as long as I expected and was actually somewhat therapeutic if you can believe haha.

Post-Production -

The post production process has been going well. We have plenty of time until the deadline and we have already got a very solid draft edit so I’m not worried. I just kind of want to get it finished.

First and foremost, Heather has been doing a fantastic job editing the video. She works efficiently, takes feedback on board and seems to me to have a very solid feel on the fundamentals of editing. Looking at the edit now, there are definite issues but nothing that can’t be solved in 10 minutes. It’s clean, fluid and most of all enjoyable to watch. I’m worried without a synopsis people might not get it but I guess you could see it as “up for interpretation” haha!

Before I talk about my role in the Post-Production process, I just want to mention who else is working on the edit as well. Bonnie is planning on adding some very small animations to the edit to give it that feeling of “not-reality” I think this is crucial because without the animation in the shots. When the man defies the laws of physics it will seem really strange. I believe Tom is doing sound, I’ve supplied them with plenty of audio from on set and am free at anytime to get more for them so it will just be down to when it is completed, I have faith that Tom will create something really special with the Sound design as he will probably blend the sound of the surrounding nature with cold office sounds. I’m excited.

Now onto the part I play. I offered to do the VFX for the film and I’m very happy with them. It’s nothing incredibly tedious to create. It’s very basic motion tracking and keyframing but I think using it in small doses works well and with it accompanied by the animation and sound it will take the film to new levels of quality.

I’m just going to talk about the final VFX shot as it was the most challenging (but fun) part to work on. First, I had to figure out how I was going to get the image of Kady onto the wall without printing her because I realised I would be able to match up the shots if I had just zoomed out from an actual image. So I went for a bit of green paper. I motioned tracked it through After Effects and then played with the colour so it matched the scene. I then added an artificial zoom in Premiere and I got the final result. Now, it is not perfect in any means. I wasn’t able to track back any further than I did so the image in the paper actually moves but with the help of Heather and the use of changing aspect ratios I think it really works. I guess we will have to see how people respond.

So that is about everything on the project. I will be back to reflect next month on the finished project. Hopefully it turns out okay. Hopefully, it doesn’t turn into a train wreck. I’m sure it won’t :)

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har-rison-s · 5 years ago

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heaven: 16

nothing lasts forever

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Hi! Part sixteen already. Whew, last one was quite long, wasn’t it? It’s one of my best works ever, I think. Has me feeling so many emotions, and quite strongly, idk. Welp, here goes one of the last chapters. I still haven’t decided how many more chapters there will be, but I just know this Heaven is nearing its end. I hope you all like how this turns out. I’m still a bit conflicted between a few characters and plot points of the ending, like I have a few versions of the ending in mind, and I wanna execute all and none of them at the same time. If I decide on this one ending that’s the most strong out of all of them, I hope y’all won’t kill me. I just finished rewatching the 1990 mini-series. Damn, that’s messy. The dialogues, the special effects… Don’t even get me started on the acting. Anyways, happy quarantine reading! Love you lots <3

warnings: long as always hahahah, wounds, blood, food, nothing else

word count: 3.7k

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Gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me! (Also, it's raining in the gif but idc! Y'all know it's morning and sunny as hell in Derry, Maine rn!)

“Could we have six menus and a first-aid kit?” Richie Tozier asks the young waitress who has approached their miserable-looking table. Her eyebrows raise and she scans the eight adults to see why they would need a first aid kit—not that it’s any of her business—and she screams, coming across Eddie’s bleeding side. The Losers flinch at the high pitch of her scream.

“You need to get to the hospital!” She says, tears streaming down her face. Now this one’s quite emotional for six o’clock in the morning, the Losers think in unison and exchange looks between themselves, finding it imposible to say any words at the current moment.

“I promise, he’s fine.” Richie tells the girl, looking at her through his thick glasses.

“It’s just a scratch.” Eddie says non-chalantly, and the waitress thinks to herself that these really are a bunch of crazy people, as she presumed when they walked inside the diner. “Besides, I’m a doctor. Could you please bring the menus and a.... uh, a first-aid kit?” He squints and tries his best at a smile at the crying waitress.

She gathers herself, wipes her tears and smiles as wide as up to her ears. “Right away.” She says in a squeaky voice and leaves their table. The Losers exchange looks between themselves once again, overwhelmed by the events of the night and by the heavily emotional waitress that they have to deal with. They huddle closer together to one another in their red-and-white leather seated booth.

The place smells of freshly cooked food, coffee and cigarettes. Oh, they’ll all definitely have coffee. A mood and energy booster, that’s for sure, that’s what they need. Though none of them are sure they even have such a thing as a ‘mood’, or ever will. This morning they’re certainly not in any kind of mood. To be completely honest, the Losers feel quite hollow. They feel completed, and they feel a lot of love and pride, but they feel empty inside, as if there’s a hole in their chests and it keeps getting more hollow.

Stanley’s head rests on Y/N’s shoulder, his hair fallen against her delicate neck. She runs her fingers slowly through his semi-dry curls. Only the roots have dried, and slowly the draught moves further through his jet black strands, taking its time. Stanley places his hand over Y/N’s in his lap, their fingers intertwining seconds after. She lays a kiss on his forehead, and he closes his eyes. You can be at peace.

Y/N looks onto Eddie and Richie, both anxiously waiting for that requested first-aid kit. But they look more peaceful than ever before and Y/N thinks, they all must look that way. Richie’s arm has fallen with natural force around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie holds that slack hand in his own, creating a lock of security around himself. Richie’s other hand is drumming against the marbled surface of the table, and he looks at Bev and Ben across the table.

They’re talking to themselves abotu something so quietly that no one can hear them. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re playing with each other’s hands softly, playfully. Bev’s crimson locks touch Ben’s cheek ever so softly and he closes his eyes. January embers. He opens his eyes again and looks strongly into Bev’s. My heart burns there, too.

Bill tries not to watch them too strikingly. But it’s hard, his first supposed crush and love sitting at the other end of the table with his best friend, completely in their own world, completely in love. It’s hard for his heart, to be precise. His mind knows better. You know better, Bill, you have a wife that you love and, now that you think of it, looks a lot like Bev here. And Beverly’s happy. So are the rest of your friends. You’ll go home and you’ll be happy, too. Back home with Audra, her movies, your novels and their shitty endings.

Maybe I don’t want to go home, he finds himself thinking. And he’s a bit surprised by that thought. Hmm. What does that mean? Maybe I could live in Derry, spend the rest of my days here, watching as the town, hopefully, evolves, changes. Maybe he can live with Mike now. Bill looks over at his friend. Mike’s smiling, smiling for his friends and his own self, but he’s not looking at them. Mike is probably gonna stay, isn’t he? So what’s so bad about me staying here, and with him?

Actually Bill doesn’t even wanna think about going back what’s been, for the last thirteen years, considered home. The thought of it makes him sick, for some reason. Maybe he’s not yet ready to think about it all, think about the possibility of going back to England and telling Audra they’re moving to Derry. Yeah, she is not gonna like it at all. And he’s not gonna like that she won’t like it. The thought of it makes him sick, as already said.

“Here are your menus and the kit.” The waitress has returned, and she doesn’t look shabby anymore. She lays out the menus on the table with her delicate, seemingly teenage hands, and puts the first-aid kit on the table in front of Eddie.

“Thanks so much.” Eddie speaks his thanks the loudest, and the young girl leaves again. Eddie immediately opens the red box and searches for disinfectant and bandages. He finds a bottle of Equate antiseptic and hands it to Richie, continuing his search for cotton gauze and pads, assuming he won’t find plasters as big as he needs in here.

Richie unscrews the antiseptic and lifts up Eddie’s shirt. Jeez Louise, it’s a bloodbath. Eddie’s started to bleed onto the seat. Y/N sees their desperate situation and hands the box of tissues on the windowsill to Richie. But Richie gives them to Mike, so he can help clean the wound while Richie cleans it with wipes Eddie’s found in the box.

“You’re losing a shit ton of blood, dude, you feeling okay?” Richie asks Eddie, carefully cleaning the scrape in his side. Eddie winces here and there, and even draws back when it really stings.

“I’m fine.” Eddie replies in that same non-chalant voice he’s used for the past half hour. “It’s not that much, anyway.” Richie shakes his head at that statement. They’re almost done with cleaning the skin and wound. The blood still flows, though.

“We’re going to the hospital later.” Richie states in a soft, commanding voice. Eddie doesn’t really pay mind to Richie’s words, having trouble connecting to thoughts about the next five minutes. He’s gathered some bandages from all that he could find in the kit. Then Eddie looks down at his left side and groans.

“Looks like something took a bite out of me.” He states, looking at the obvious strike in his skin and a bit further than that. There’s other layers visible already, a darker red than his skin. Muscle, that is, and he can see some blood vessels too. Oh, dear God, he’s going to faint. The blood flow is not stopping.

“Be thankful it didn’t.” Richie reminds him. Eddie takes some medical wool and gives it to Richie. He puts it, as softly as he can, directly into the wound after it’s disinfected, to hopefully stop the blood drip for at least a while. Eddie winces, and his face scrunches so much he feels tears squirting out at the corners of his eyes. That is not a nice feeling at all.

Mike presses his hand on the wool to keep it there while Richie gets bandages from Eddie. He puts the biggest plasters at the top and bottom of the wound, securing the wool, and Mike lets go. Then Eddie adds more wool, puts tissues and bandages over it, and Richie helps him secure it all with gauze. Quite messy, but for the time until they’re in the hospital, this will have to last. Richie cleans up the blood around their make-shift work place and puts Eddie’s shirt back down. They throw the tissues in a trash can under their table—wow, they have that kind of thing here?—and lean against the sofa, both tired, more tired than before.

“No staph infections in our lifetime.” Richie states between yawns. The ones who were there, in the back alley where the two holy words were spoken first, laugh. But Mike and Bev only share looks of confusion. Richie lays a kiss atop of Eddie’s head and embraces him back in his arms. Now they have time to look at what the menu’s offering.

Y/N opens the menu in front of her and Stanley so they can both read it at once. Stanley sighs. “I don’t have my glasses.” He mewls. The words printed on the laminated paper are blurry to him, and he realises his obstacles are either back at the hotel or lost in the over-flown sewers or the underground lair. He blinks his eyes twice, but he still can’t read anything except for Derry Diner Menu, which are much larger and in bold.

Y/N tilts her head to rest on his. “Breakfast. Pancakes - ones with caramel, ones with chocolate, ones with bacon and cheese, ones with berries and fruit, ones with ice cream…” She reads out loud. “Country breakfast - ham, eggs, fries, baked beans. Eggs Benedict, Lobster Benedict, Irish Benedict, Eggs Florentine, waffles, steak & eggs.” She sighs. “Anything strike your fancy?”

Stanley shrugs. “Keep reading.” He says, and feels his eyelids and chest heavy. Her voice is so sweet and soothing. Y/N nods.

“Breakfast burrito, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with lobster,” she widens her eyes, “chili, chicken pot pie… turkey, roast beef sandwhiches… sea food, side orders…” she flips through the menu, which requires to move the arm that’s around Stanley. And she finds that his body is limp against hers. She worriedly looks down.

His breath passes through his slightly parted lips, his eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He’s asleep. Y/N almost laughs into his face, but she turns away and suppresses her giggles. Her friends look at her. “He’s fallen asleep.” She tells them in a whisper, pointing down at Stanley. They nod and most of them smile. No wonder. They feel like doing the same, and they’re actually on the verge, if they weren’t concentrating on reading the menu and hoping for coffee soon.

Y/N stops her giggling fit and looks down at the menu again. What do I want, what do I want… “What are you guys gonna order?” She asks her friends.

“Probably pancakes.” Comes from Bev, who’s decided for both her and Ben.

“Us too.” Mike informs. “Bacon?” He asks.

“Berries.” Ben responds.

“We’re gonna get that country breakfast or whatever.” Richie says. “To get proper fat, you know, grow into Eddie’s mom.” He explains further and everyone giggles, even Eddie himself.

Y/N hums. “I’ve got no idea. I want everything, but it just won’t fit.” She states and Bill chuckles. “I know what to order for Stanley, but myself…”

“Take the same and stop working your brain.” Mike suggests. Y/N looks at him.

“It’s worked enough for the past hours.” Bill supports his argument. Her eyes shift to Bill, and then she looks down at the menu again, a smile on her face now.

“I guess it’s just that easy now.” She admits and closes the menu, putting it on the table instead. Making decisions really is that easy now. She leans back into the seat, Stanley’s body moving with hers. He gets more comfortable while sleeping, his face nuzzling into her neck, tickling her a bit, and his arms going around her, securing themselves together at her waist. Y/N smiles and hugs him back, resting her cheek on his curls. She closes her eyes.

“What will you have?” Bill asks her and she opens an eye to look at him, her own eyelids feeling sort of heavy now. “Before you join him.” He whispers, smiling. She smiles back.

“Love you, Bill.” She tells him sincerely. “Eggs Benedict for us both.” She says and Bill nods. “And coffee, too. Both black, but two sugars in Stanley’s.” She’s surprised herself that she still knows how he likes his coffee, or which breakfast option he’d always choose. It’s like it’s basic knowledge now, something that’s imprinted in her mind and feels like it’s been that way since she can remember. She closes her eyes again and lets her exhaustion take over. She wants to rest, just for a little bit, just lay with Stanley for a while.

She did join him in sleeping for a while. Bill wakes her up when the food and coffees have arrive, starting to tickle her, Ben doing the same to Stanley. The two adults jolt awake, eyes wide and confused, and make their friends laugh.

“Morning, sleepyheads.” Richie nods to them with a smile. Stanley nods right back and Y/N and he both right themselves, sitting up straight. Y/N moves her hair behind her ear and Stanley flattens his shirt. They look down at the fresh food in front of them, though their vision and look on their environement is still hazy from the good-as-hell nap they just woke up from.

“Bone, apple, tit, was it?” Richie suggests as a toast for the Losers’ diner breakfast. Everyone laughs once more, but they clink their coffee cups together, repeating Richie’s ridiculous words and they laugh again, harder this time. Languages have never been Richie’s strongest side.

They all drink coffee in unison and regain some amount energy at that, then delve into their steaming breakfast which fill their noses up to the maximum with utterly irresistible aromas. Richie, like the beast he is, devours half of his plate in the first few minutes while everyone else devours their food bit by bit. But everyone is so endorsed in eating that they don’t pay mind to their friends, for the time they’re eating they even forget they’re with their friends, lest someone else entirely. Food is very good right now. Heavenly, if you might.

When they’re done, they all slump into their seats, letting out groans of content and holding their bellies. “For a diner, that was really good.” Bill says. Y/N laughs. Bill, Eddie, Stanley, Ben—cross that, all of them, except herself and Mike, have grown used to dining at fancy restaurants where it costs to even reserve a table, grown used to making great mega-dishes at home for themselves. They’ve grown used to business events with crazy dinners and a wide range of appetisers. Champagne, wine, whiskey of the highest classes. So this is entirely out of their usual menu, and Bill is, of course, taking it like a snob. Hence Y/N laughed.

She and Mike have not lived the life their friends have. Not that it’s bad lives they’ve been living upto this point, just different, way different from most of the Losers Club. Y/N hasn’t become a famous writer, architect or fashion designer, neither has Mike. So for one, their daily routine differs, and two, their eating habits differ from their friends’. Diner food may be the lowest of them all, considered so by the highest class of society, but Y/N can safely admit that she likes diner food and doesn’t mind having it once in a while. And what can Mike have in this shithole town, anyway, other than make-believe restaurant meals, takeout and diners? Neither of them mind eating here now or any other time.

“I want more.” Y/N manages to croak out, and everyone laughs. “Anyone up for a sundae split?”

“Ugh, we’re really gonna get fat.” Eddie sighs.

“Haystack’s gonna have a come-back!” Richie announces and changes his face into an excited expression. But he still makes his friends laugh, including Ben himself. His laughter rumbles deep and low like a bear’s roar.

“I’ll have a sundae split with you, Y/N/N.” Beverly says, then. Y/N smiles at her.

“Anyone up for a Diet Coke and salad?” Mike asks now, and they all laugh again. Richie joins the girls for a sundae split, and the rest agree with Mike’s offer.

“Wait, wasn’t Y/N working in a diner for a while? In, like, high school?” Eddie asks now, as they wait for the waitress, and he looks at Y/N. She looks at him, tired and full from the eggs, but nods.

“I was.” She confirms. “Not this one, though, the one in the center of town.” She leans towards the table to sit proper and rests her elbows on the surface. She crosses her arms and puts her chin on top of them. “After Bowers and Cockstetter were… out of the picture, I had the freedom to work in the skirt the diner required me to.” She recalls. Those boys were always onto her and Beverly, while they were still alive, which made it hard for them to ever wear something remotely feminine. They always got some sort of cat-calls, and groping was the worst of what would come from them. “Jesus…”

“What scumbags they were.” Beverly joins in, also leaning against the table. She moves her hair out of her face, and looks to Y/N, but Ben’s worried gaze catches her eye instead. She turns to him. He only reaches for her hand with his own. I’m here now.

“You working in a diner was the best thing, Y/N.” Richie says, putting emphasis on ‘best’. She looks at him now and smiles, remembering how stoked they all were for free food and the food that she actually made. Mostly deserts. Stanley’s arm makes its way around her waist. She leans closer to him. “I mean, the birthday parties there were amazing. Nothing could top them.”

“Wow, Rich, even college and work parties?” Mike asks, and they both chuckle.

“You bet your fur, Mikey,” Richie says, patting his friend’s shoulder. He looks reminiscent for a second, his head hangs down, and then he tries to put it into words, “you know, I think—I think because childhood, and teenage years, were the best part of my life. I mean, I’m forty now, so I’m old enough to say shit like that, you know, but… It’s true. I know that I thought it then and I know it now—those were the best parties of my life.” He admits and looks around at his friends. “Because—because I was still young, and because it was the best childhood, I think, any kid could wish for. Even counting in all the shame, the fear, and IT. And because I was with you guys.”

A silence falls upon the Losers Club. But they smile at Richie, and at each other, realising that’s true. Those were the best years of their lives, and actually, taking the horrible parts, the best childhood any child could wish for. The best friends anyone could wish for to spend that childhood and those confusing, difficult teenage years with. Without each other, they wouldn’t be the same, and they wouldn’t be as strong and as full of love and, perhaps, belief.

“You know…” Stanley starts to say, they look at him, “nothing lasts forever.” He states, shaking his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. Nothing does seem to last forever, that is true. But he has a feeling of differing in opinion with his own statement. Nothing lasts forever—the monster they thought had lived under Derry forever, eaten its kids and other residents, cast a spell on the adults and the whole air of Derry, is now dead. So that doesn’t last forever. The promise they made—it is fulfilled now, meaning it won’t last forever, either. It lasted as long as needed to unite them all again. But this… what they have…

“Except for friendship.” Y/N says, looking at him. “And love.” Yes, friendship and love. Those will last forever. The love they have for each other will outlive all their future deaths, all their future kids’ deaths, and their kids’ deaths. This love, and this bond, it will last forever. It will always be somewhere in the predicted long life of the Earth and humanity. It will fly with the wind, blossom in flowers and rosy cheeks, it will swim with the ocean and breathe with the air. Always.

“And love.” Eddie says it with Y/N in unison. They smile at each other. Love. What a wonderful thing. It might as well be a living creature, like fear was. Only much stronger.

“Desire.” Ben suggests. Beverly closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. I know, Ben. But we’re here now. All the desire pent up in teenage and adult years seems much lighter now. For Beverly, Ben and for Richie and Eddie, too. And for Stanley and Y/N. All their desire towards each other has finally been released, even if the door to it is only open in a narrow slit now. Desire might as well live in all eight of them, desire for each other, desire to meet each other again, desire to have that unbreakable friendship again. Desire for that lived in their hearts all these empty years, it was unknown and mysterious, a feeling they could not guess. Now it’s known, and out in the open, nothing to hide from each other. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re proud.

The Losers Club fall silent, but comfortably so. They’re finally in a comfortable state with themselves and each other, and with the world around them. Strange, vile and ignorant as it may be, the world is truly amazing, though, and much bigger than they all thought. Brought them together that one summer, made a bond that will last forever. They’ve got a lot to thank it for. But they’ve also got every reason to kick the world in the butt and other places.

For now, they’ll let it slide. For now, they’re only focused on being in the diner, getting desert and then showering. Most importantly, for now, they’ve got each other, safe and healthy, and that’s all they need. That will do.

“Anything else you’d like to order?”

Permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @eddie-spaghetti-boi @anxiousanakin @terratori812 @urban-dreams

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand @kimseungminsgf @stanstan-the-manman

Heaven tag-list: @lovvliies @kaspbrak-uris @happy-at-home @jars-of–jupiter @violetzendaya @veronicapuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

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ataswegianabroad · 4 years ago

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Alone Amongst the Gum Trees Part 3 - It Was Murdoch All Along

NOTE - this article has been migrated to Medium. As of 2021, A Taswegian Abroad will be closed down, and all of my writing will be published on my Medium profile.

“For some time, Australia’s democracy has been slowly sliding into disrepair. The nation’s major policy challenges go unaddressed, our economic future is uncertain and political corruption is becoming normalised. We can’t understand the current predicament of our democracy without recognising the central role of Murdoch’s national media monopoly.

There is no longer a level playing field in Australian politics. We won’t see another progressive government in Canberra until we deal with this cancer in our democracy.”

- Kevin Rudd - THE CASE FOR COURAGE

Foreword

I started this as a brain dump on July 25th, 2016 just before I flew back to Australia for 4 weeks. I decided to wait to finish it as an “Alone Amongst the Gum Trees” piece after the 2016 US election as it would have directly impacted the outcome.

That was the plan, anyway. I forgot entirely that I had written this draft for almost 5 years. The next thing you know: it’s early 2021, I’m married, have a dog, a car, and my first child is due in August.

My last political opinion piece was from April 11, 2016: a piece on how Bernie Sanders was being treated in the lead-up to the 2016 presidential election.

So what happened from mid-2016 to early 2021? I didn’t jump back down the political commentary rabbit hole. No more rants on Tumblr blogs. No angry posts on Facebook. The odd spicy tweet about the current election happening between my old home (Australia), my new home (Canada) and the messed up cousin next door (United States). I instead chose to divert my love of writing to sports (see https://thefiftyfooty.com/), technology, and music.

From a political standpoint I chose to mostly stop talking, and to listen. Now don’t become misconstrued: I did not ignore it. I was very active over the Provincial and Federal Canadian elections of 2015 and 2019, I followed the unprecedented US political climate very closely given our proximity to the United States (and learned a lot in the process), and I voted in the most recent 2019 Australian election (my third from Toronto since leaving in 2012).

If I take a step back - I still need to be self-critical: I was defeated and I surrendered to the tidal-wave of the far-right. I was watching the US tear itself in two over race, alternative facts, and radical ideology. I was watching the UK go down a similar path with Brexit and Boris Johnson. I was watching my beloved homeland of Australia continue to confusingly elect damaging conservative governments despite the polls, trends, movements and more indicating it was time for a change.

As I matured into my late 20′s and now early 30′s (*gulp*) I was asking myself: was this how it was going to be? Did the western world just decide “we’re done with progressive views, let stick it in reverse for a bit and see how we go”? If that was true, then why did Canada buck this trend with Trudeau in 2015 & 2019? Why was New Zealand thriving under Arden after 2017 and 2020?

I went to a dark place on this.

But then something amazing happened. Enter former Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd talking about wanting a royal commission into Rupert Murdoch and his News Corp empire who control 70% of print media in Australia.

Did he say 70% of all print media in Australia?

I STRONGLY recommend taking 15 minutes to watch this video. It will do a much better job of painting the scene than I ever could. If not, you can still read on through.

youtube

After doing some looking into this: all I can say is that I didn’t have to dig very far to have my fire reignited. All I can think about now is this #MurdochRoyalCommission

My world view has changed, and what I am about to write next will explain a few things that I hope will change yours too.

This is not a left vs right piece. This is not a blame, shame, or complain piece either. I won’t curse or abuse, because this is a self reflection, a cry of encouragement, and a call to action to all who live in and want to protect the political integrity of democracy around the world.

I am here to explain my thought patterns with the goal of having at least one more person under the thumb of Murdoch’s “beast” realise just what’s going on, and to encourage that person to make more informed decisions knowing the facts.

The Path to En-frightened-ment

February 2014 was the last time I updated the long-form political arm of my blog. Back then as a young man exposed to his first bout of political and social disappointment after the 2013 Australian election - I felt the need to get it all out and I did in a little more linguistically brash Part 2 of “Alone Amongst the Gum Trees”.

I was in an interesting position then. I was a 23 year old finding his place in the world - personally, politically, spiritually, environmentally. I was mostly deciding whether or not I was done with Toronto and it if was time to stay home permanently after spending 3 months back in Australia.

I chose no. I left. I came back to Toronto and the rest is history.

Then one day a couple of years later I got us flights back to Australia for a visit. After nearly 3 years avoiding it (mostly because of my post-election distaste for Australian ignorance), it was time to bite the bullet and go home for a bit.

In 2014 I mentioned:

...let’s talk about Australia, how things changed, how it looked from outside the huge wall that the government apparently has built around the country now, and how it looks from a bloke who literally can not wait to leave again.

I had been anxious about that trip for a while. Not because I hadn’t seen everyone for so long or because it was my wife’s (then girlfriend who became my fiance on that trip) first time visiting, it was because Australia had a chance to move away from the “ignorance, inequality, narrow-minded idiocy, and over-conservatism” I mentioned in 2014.

But we didn’t. Turnbull won the 2016 election. I was so angry at the Australian people. I was so scared of that ignorant, greedy, racist, xenophobic, homophobic, narrow minded, privileged, climate denying creature that seems to be slowly devouring the planet.

From that point in time, all I could think about was some sort of big right-wing populist shift happening across the globe. Outside of the obvious ones: Trump in the USA, Johnson in the UK and Abbott/Turnbull/Morrison in Australia, there were a few more extreme cases: Putin in Russia, Marine Le Pen in France, Viktor Orban in Hungary. Then there’s Cambodia, Brazil, Turkey, Egypt etc who saw this as a huge advantage as well. It may not be the end of a progressive vision of the world but it definitely seemed like the beginning of a big switch.

One thing I learned during my political writing hiatus while serving my self-induced “exile” to Canada is that this country was one of the few blips in this trend. Why did Canada choose to elect Justin Trudeau in 2015, a left wing liberal, after 9 years of Harper’s conservative government? Was it simply because Canadians were good and fair people? Did they just fundamentally understand that you need both conservative and progressive governments to advance society? Perhaps they do, and Canadians are most definitely good and fair people regardless of election results. I am even set to become a Canadian citizen myself (and a dual-citizen overall) in 2021.

So where is this all coming from? Why are the United States, Australia and the United Kingdom on a continued path to segregation, protectionism, populism and division while Canada and New Zealand show basically zero of these tendencies?

The News Corp cancer that is Rupert Murdoch’s media empire is the deciding factor.

So What Does Kevin Rudd Have To Do With It?

Mr. Rudd has been living in the USA for the last 5 years and is firmly spearheading the charge in that Rupert Murdoch’s media behemoth “News Corp” has been unlawfully influencing Australian opinion and undermining elections in Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States for close to 3 decades (more predominantly in the last 8 years).

Before you read any further I have to be transparent about my opinions of Kevin Rudd. I accredit his “Kevin 07″ campaign as the catalyst for my interest in politics, my decision to study economics at university, and my ongoing support for progressive policies in every federal and state election since 2007. His work has played a big part in shaping me into the person I am today.

Despite my positive position on Mr. Rudd, I am also disappointed he did not action this during his time as prime minister. However, I am “all in” when it comes to what he is standing for, and that is:

Eradicating monopolies in all forms (be it political, business, journalism, etc)

Improving media literacy to encourage fair and unbiased journalism

Avoiding the pitfalls of Murdoch's divisive influence on the USA happening to Australia

There’s a few key factoids to his claims of mass-media bias:

70% of print media in Australia is owned by ONE MAN: Rupert Murdoch (100% owned in Queensland)

Print media influences the national conversation on a daily basis

Rupert Murdoch owns the biggest YouTube channel in Australia (news.com.au)

The line between fact-based and opinion-based reporting continues to blur, resembling that of CNN (Democrats) and Fox (Republican) extreme partisanship in the USA

All of Murdoch’s papers have backed the Liberal/National party in all 19 out of the last 19 federal and state elections

The ABC is breaching the Australian Broadcasting Act of 1983 by not standing up to Murdoch media purely out of fear

Politicians are not standing up out of fear of character assassination

Whether or not Murdoch is backing left or right, Labor or Liberal, the question still remains:

Do you think it is healthy for a FOREIGN PRIVATE ENTITY to own a monopoly level of influence on a sovereign country’s political system for that private entity to use for their own personal gain through targeted media attacks and character assassinations?

Watch This Space...

There are utter mountains of evidence to accompany these claims, and to make sure you can digest what I am trying to say, I recommend that you sink your teeth into the following videos to validate and truly comprehend the size of the tumour we are dealing with:

Feb 20, 2020 - 1h - Friendlyjordies informal interview with Kevin Rudd

This is right before the Covid outbreak in March, which delayed Mr. Rudd’s ability to move for a formal commission into media bias

Provides excellent insight into the ABC’s lack of action, the opportunism of the Green party, and the complete absence of unbiased reporting in Australia

Feb 18, 2021 - 1h 30m - Kevin Rudd Officially Requesting Royal Commission to Australian Senate

The first 20-30 minutes provide Mr. Rudd’s summary of the situation

The remainder of the video consists of questions from both Labor and Liberal senators about Mr. Rudd’s claims

Mar 1, 2021 - 2m - Kevin Rudd speaks to Sunrise about the Murdoch monopoly

Mr. Rudd went on a national flagship morning show to discuss his concerns regarding News Corp

LISTEN to the questions being asked of him: completely disregarding his valid points and dismissing him as “sour grapes”

Channel 7 is not News Corp, so why try to discredit Mr. Rudd? Fear of being targeted by News Corp

Mar 9, 2021 - 1h - National Press Club: The Case for Courage

Mr. Rudd stands up in front of The National Press Club of Australia to promote the four big challenges facing Australia in his upcoming book “The Case for Courage”

He takes questions from journalists from both Murdoch and non-Murdoch media outlets

As I start to conclude this piece, for action to happen, an independent royal commission is required to get to the facts. Mr. Rudd already gathered over 500,000 signatures that were recently sent to Prime Minister Scott Morrison asking for the royal commission to take place, but this is not enough.

Even former Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, a friend of Rupert Murdoch and political opposite to Mr. Rudd, signed the petition and said the following:

Mr Turnbull, a former Liberal prime minister, said the Murdoch media used to be a group of traditional right-leaning outlets but has now become "a vehicle of propaganda."

He told ABC television's Insiders program on Sunday that Australian democracy was suffering for allowing the "crazy, bitter partisanship" of social media to creep into the mainstream.

"We have to work out what price we're paying, as a society, for the hyper-partisanship of the media," Mr Turnbull said.

"Look at the United States and the terrible, divided state of affairs that they're in, exacerbated, as Kevin was saying, by Fox News and other right-wing media."

I recently sent a (somewhat long) letter to Mr. Rudd expressing my concern for the state of Australia’s media landscape, with it culminating in the following questions:

I am deeply moved and inspired by your bravery to take on "the beast" as you so aptly name it, and I want to boldly ask: how can I help? How can I get involved?

I am yet to hear back from Mr. Rudd himself - but I think if you’ve gotten this far, you know what I am about to say next.

I want to help, learn more, or get involved.

That’s amazing. We’re not asking for money, just action. Here’s some ways you can help is stop the rot:

SUBSCRIBE TO and FOLLOW direct updates from Kevin Rudd:

Website / Newsletters

https://newsroyalcommission.com/

https://kevinrudd.com/

Social media alongside the #MurdochRoyalCommission hashtag on all platforms:

Twitter

Instagram

Facebook

YouTube

Boycott News Corp media sites, publications, and channels

I’ve linked a list of all assets by News Corp above

This includes steering clear of ALL mediums of news owned by these publications and outlets including the respective:

Social media channels and pages

Television and radio news channels

Print and online newspapers and articles

SHARE and spread the word of this cancer affecting our democracy

Talk TO your friends and family (not AT them) and LISTEN to their views - people are not dumb: this will make sense if given time to digest

WATCH the videos posted above as a start, alongside a few more recommendations:

This interview between Friendly Jordies and former Labor Leader Bill Shorten from earlier in March 2021

I learned more about Bill Shorten in the last 20 minutes of this interview than I did in his entire run as opposition leader.

This just goes to show you how utterly mistreated he was by Murdoch media

For a laugh - every episode of Kevin Rudd: PM from Rove McManus’ late night show

I want Australia to remain a safe, secure, and lucky country to raise my family in someday. I care about this very much and plan to ramp up my content around this until we are free from the Murdoch beast and its lies.

Thank you so much for reading, as always, I am happy to discuss.

List of Murdoch (News Corp) Owned Outlets [Expanded Below]

Television

Foxtel (65%)

Australian News Channel

Fox Sports Australia

Streamotion

Fox Sports News

Fox Cricket

Fox Footy

Fox League

Kayo Sports

Binge

Sky News Australia

Sky News Weather

Sky News Extra

Sky After Dark

Australia Channel (News Streaming channel)

Sky News New Zealand

Sky News on WIN

Internet

Punters.com.au — Australian horse racing and bookmaker affiliate.

SuperCoach

Australia Best Recipes

hipages

odds.com.au

Mogo

One Big Switch

Knewz, a news aggregator

Realestate.com.au

Advertising, Branding & Tech

Global

Storyful

News UK

bridge studio

wireless Group

wireless studios

urban media

First Radio

Switchdigital

TIBUS

ZESTY

News Corp Australia

SUDDENLY - Content Agency

Medium Rare Content Agency

HT&E (Here, There & Everywhere)

News Xtend

Radio

News UK & Ireland

wireless Group

talkSPORT

talkSPORT 2

talkRADIO

Virgin Radio

FM104

Q102

96FM

c103

Live 95FM

LMFM

U105

Scottish Sun 80s

Scottish Sun Hits

Scottish Sun Greatest Hits

Times Radio

Magazines and Inserts (digital and print)

News Corp Australia

Big League

body+soul

Broncos

Business Daily

delicious

Escape

Foxtel

GQ Australia

Hit

Kidspot

Mansion Australia

Motoring

Sportsman

Super Food Ideas

taste.com.au

The Deal

The Weekend Australian Magazine

Vogue Australia

Vogue Living

Whimn

Wish

News & Magazines (digital and print)

News UK

The Sun

The Times

The Sunday Times

Press Association (part owned, News UK is one of 26 shareholders)

The TLS (Times Literary Supplement)

News Corp Australia

The Australian including weekly insert magazine The Deal and monthly insert magazine (wish)

The Weekend Australian

Australian Associated Press

news.com.au

New South Wales

The Daily Telegraph

The Sunday Telegraph including insert magazine sundaymagazine

Victoria

Herald Sun

Sunday Herald Sun including insert magazine sundaymagazine

Lions Raw

Samizdat

Queensland

The Courier-Mail including weekly insert magazine QWeekend

The Sunday Mail

Brisbane News

South Australia

The Advertiser including the monthly insert The Adelaide magazine

Sunday Mail

Tasmania

The Mercury

The Sunday Tasmanian

Northern Territory

Northern Territory News

Sunday Territorian

Community suburban newspapers

Cumberland/Courier (NSW) newspapers

Blacktown Advocate

Canterbury-Bankstown Express

Central

Central Coast Express Advocate

Fairfield Advance

Hills Shire Times

Hornsby and Upper North Shore Advocate

Inner West Courier

Liverpool Leader

Macarthur Chronicle

Mt Druitt-St Marys Standard

NINETOFIVE

North Shore Times

Northern District Times

NORTHSIDE

Parramatta Advertiser

Penrith Press

Rouse Hill Times

Southern Courier

The Manly Daily

The Mosman Daily

Village Voice Balmain

Wentworth Courier

Leader (Vic) newspapers

Bayside Leader

Berwick/Pakenham Cardinia Leader

Brimbank Leader

Caulfield Glen Eira/Port Philip Leader

Cranbourne Leader

Dandenong/Springvale Dandenong Leader

Diamond Valley Leader

Frankston Standard/Hastings Leader

Free Press Leader

Heidelberg Leader

Hobsons Bay Leader

Hume Leader

Knox Leader

Lilydale & Yarra Valley Leader

Manningham Leader

Maribyrnong Leader

Maroondah Leader

Melbourne Leader

Melton/Moorabool Leader

Moonee Valley Leader

Moorabbin Kingston/Moorabbin Glen Eira Leader

Mordialloc Chelsea Leader

Moreland Leader

Mornington Peninsula Leader

Northcote Leader

Preston Leader

Progress Leader

Stonnington Leader

Sunbury/Macedon Ranges Leader

Waverley/Oakleigh Monash Leader

Whitehorse Leader

Whittlesea Leader

Wyndham Leader

Quest (QLD) newspapers

Albert & Logan News (Fri)

Albert & Logan News (Wed)

Caboolture Shire Herald

Caloundra Journal

City News

City North News

City South News

Ipswich News

Logan West Leader

Maroochy Journal

North-West News

Northern Times

Northside Chronicle

Pine Rivers Press/North Lakes Times

Redcliffe and Bayside Herald

South-East Advertiser

South-West News/Springfield News

Southern Star

The Noosa Journal

weekender

Westside News

Wynnum Herald

Weekender Essential Sunshine Coast

Messenger (SA) newspapers

Adelaide Matters

City Messenger

City North Messenger

East Torrens Messenger

Eastern Courier Messenger

Guardian Messenger

Hills & Valley Messenger

Leader Messenger

News Review Messenger

Portside Messenger

Southern Times Messenger

Weekly Times Messenger

Community (WA) newspapers

(50.1%) (Formerly)

Advocate

Canning Times

Comment News

Eastern Reporter

Fremantle-Cockburn Gazette

Guardian Express

Hills-Avon Valley Gazette

Joondalup-Wanneroo Times

Mandurah Coastal / Pinjarra Murray Times

Melville Times

Midland-Kalamunda Reporter

North Coast Times

Southern Gazette

Stirling Times

Weekend-Kwinana Courier

Weekender

Western Suburbs Weekly

Sun (NT) newspapers

Darwin Sun

Litchfield Sun

Palmerston Sun

Regional and rural newspapers

New South Wales

Tweed Sun

Tweed Daily News

Victoria

Echo

Geelong Advertiser

GeelongNEWS

The Weekly Times

Queensland

Bowen Independent

Burdekin Advocate

Cairns Sun

Gold Coast Bulletin

Gold Coast Sun

Herbert River Express

Home Hill Observer

Innisfail Advocate

Northern Miner

Port Douglas & Mossman Gazette

Tablelander – Atherton

Tablelands Advertiser

The Cairns Post

The Noosa News

The Sunshine Coast Daily

Townsville Bulletin

Toowoomba Chronicle

Townsville Sun

weekender

Daily Mercury (Mackay)

Tasmania

Derwent Valley Gazette

Tasmanian Country

Northern Territory

Centralian Advocate

International

Papua New Guinea

Papua New Guinea Post-Courier (63%)

United States

New York Post

Wall Street Journal

realtor.com

Move (80%)

Dow Jones & Company

Consumer Media Group

The Wall Street Journal – the leading US financial newspaper

Wall Street Journal Europe closed

The Wall Street Journal Asia closed

Barron's – weekly financial markets magazine

Marketwatch – financial news and information website

Financial News

Heat Street - news and opinion website

Mansion Global - global luxury property website

Enterprise Media Group

Dow Jones Newswires – global, real-time news and information provider.

Factiva – provides business news and information together with content delivery tools and services.

Dow Jones Indexes – stock market indexes and indicators, including the Dow Jones Industrial Average. (10% ownership)

Dow Jones Financial Information Services – produces databases, electronic media, newsletters, conferences, directories, and other information services on specialised markets and industry sectors.

Betten Financial News – leading Dutch language financial and economic news service.

Strategic Alliances

STOXX (33%) – joint venture with Deutsche Boerse and SWG Group for the development and distribution of Dow Jones STOXX indices.

Wireless Group

Talksport

TalkRadio

Books

HarperCollins

4th Estate

Collins

Ecco Press

Harlequin Enterprises

Harper Perennial

Harper Voyager

Kappa Books

Modern Publishing

Unisystems Inc.

Zondervan Publishing

Christian publishing company taken over by HarperCollins in 1988

Inspirio – religious gift production

#murdochroyalcommission #rudd #auspol #politics

1 note · View note

dealorism · 5 years ago

Photo

Rough Night

Brian May x fem!Reader

rating: E (18+) contains: professor!Bri, a lot of teasing, a bit of dom/sub, oral (f&m receiving) word count: 6.7k summary: teasing Brian is fun until he decides to tease you back. date: 1st January 2020

* * *

The terms that you and Brian agreed upon clearly stated that no physical marks could be left on your bodies to prevent people from catching onto your arrangement. However, that doesn’t mean that Brian wouldn’t find ways to get past loopholes in your agreement to mark you as his. It was infuriating, to say the least, but also an extreme turn-on to have him so desperate to show the world that he was the one responsible for your orgasms. Last night, too, was no exception.

You are sitting in class, waiting for the lecture to start. Your throat is still sore from last night, but you have hidden it well — until now, at least. This is only the first lecture you have for the day, after all. You’ve barely spoken to anyone all morning, just giving slight nods and shaking your head when others asked you anything. You eye the bottle of warm honey water you hastily prepared this morning before grabbing it and drinking a mouthful, in a vain attempt to soothe your sore throat fast.

The lecturer is late, but you’re okay with that. After all, you did blow his mind away last night. At that, you lean back into your seat and absently rub your cheeks with your fingers as you smile, relishing the memory of his rough moans.

With an uncharacteristic loud bang of the door, Brian finally makes his grand appearance. He’s forgone his usual suit-and-tie look and instead opted for just a simple white dress shirt and black slacks. The shirt is unbuttoned too low to be proper, but you don’t see anyone complaining. His wild curls are extra wild today, like he didn’t even attempt to touch his hair at all. He sets his briefcase on his desk with an audible grunt and looks around the lecture hall. The hall isn’t big and you’re seated right in the middle, so his eyes meet yours easily and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Brian lets his eyes linger for a second too long before resuming scanning the class. You keep your eyes on him though, letting them trace the tanned skin of his neck, down to necklace that fits snugly around the base that directly leads to his collar bones. Hey, remember that wet kiss you planted there last ni—

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone lightly bumping your shoulder, snapping you out of your trance. It’s the girl sitting beside you, and she’s smiling, with a crinkle in her eyes. “Hey, I know the professor is hot, but you should probably keep your ogling a little down,” she whispers, leaning close to you so your shoulders touch.

You instantly blush, embarrassed that you got caught. God, if only they knew what we were doing just the night before…

“All right,” Brian speaks up from the front, and you straighten up. “I apologise for being late, I ran into… some problems this morning and that interfered with my schedule a little,” he says in his smooth baritone. “Good news is that it shall be resolved in a little bit.” He smiles at that, and you feel his eyes flit to you for a fraction of a second. Then his stance shifts and his tone changes. “I’ve uploaded our material for today a couple days ago — I hope everyone brought the printout.”

With various Yes and Hmm and Oh shit floating around the room, you reach into your bag to dig out your printout of the material. You got it printed just yesterday, after Brian made you do it, in case you forgot. You’re glad he did, because nothing is worse than having to tell him you didn’t have the printout, or ask someone to share their paper with you.

Brian allows you and your classmates several minutes to settle down before he walks around to the front of his desk and leans against the edge. He crosses his legs and scans the room. “I’m assuming nobody read it?”

You shake your head sheepishly, along with almost all of your classmates. Who even reads class materials before the class?

Brian crosses his arms in faux anger and pretends to be offended. “How dare you defy my orders! I specifically asked you people to read it before class.” He shakes his head. “In that case, I’ll take this opportunity to appoint someone to read for us.”

You catch onto Brian’s plan the second his eyes meet yours. You widen yours in horror while he crinkles his in amusement. You try to shake your head with as little movement as possible while staring at him, silently telling him don’t do it, don’t do it don’t do it…

“How about you in the white sweatshirt?” he calls out and stares directly at you, along with all 100 of your classmates. The girl beside you sends you a wink and you feel your jaw drop.

You can get out of this! you tell yourself. You try to smile and shake your head, waving your palm in the universal sign of how about no?

But Brian is having none of that crap. He impatiently taps his fingers against the oak wood and stares pointedly at you. “You’re wasting everybody’s time.” Even though his tone is reprimanding, he looks amused. There’s really no way of getting out of this.

You take a deep breath, and start reading. Your voice cracks at the first syllable and you flush, but you don’t stop. The faster you read, the sooner this will be over. While reading, you look up to Brian several times to find him smirking at you, and you want nothing more than to slap him in his pretty face.

Your voice unceremoniously cracks on the last syllable and you finish with your head drooped low. You’re so embarrassed you could just dig a hole out of the floor beneath you and stay inside until you died.

“I must say,” Brian starts, and you peek at him through your eyelashes. He’s still leaning against his desk, but now with his hands dutifully clasped in front of his crotch. “I was not expecting that at all.” He chuckles. “Rough night?” he asks while smirking directly at you.

Your face heats up in record time and you want nothing more at the moment to glare and maybe chuck your shoe at him. But he’s still your professor, and the fucking reason for your rough night.

“Yeah,” you murmur in your croaky voice. “Had one hell of a coughing fit last night,” you reply smoothly.

He nods, his eyes sparkling. “I see. I hope you recover soon.” He then carries on the class like nothing happened. The tension is so thick between the two of you that you’re surprised nobody sensed it.

Everyone leaves you peacefully alone for the rest of the day, and for that you’re grateful. You don’t think you can handle another incident like that — your quota for embarrassment has reached its painful limit. All you want to do now as you sit in your last lecture of the day is to go back to your room, finish the bag of leftover crisps and watch movies for the rest of the day. Well, that, and confronting Brian.

As you watch the professor drawl on about something you weren’t quite listening, you find yourself getting angrier as the seconds drag on. How dare he embarrass you in front of the whole class? How dare he put your arrangement at bay by such a close call? How dare he openly flirt with you that way? You must look murderous with your brows scrunched up and your lips down-turned into a scowl, but you just can’t care less at the moment. You need to find him as soon as possible.

Clicking open your phone, you realise that there is only 9 minutes left of the lecture, and this professor always releases on the dot of the scheduled time. After a second’s hesitation, you unlock your phone and press into the messaging app. Your fingers hover over the keyboard.

Wanna talk to you

His reply is instantaneous, almost like he has nothing to do and is on his phone, waiting for your text.

I’m free for the rest of the day.

You leave him on read.

* * *

When you knock on his door a few minutes later, he doesn’t realise it’s you.

“Come in,” he answers, using that formal voice of his that he has for addressing colleagues and student alike. When he sees you, though, his mouth stretches into a lop-smirk and he leans back into his chair. “You.”

You don’t give him any reply as you spin around to close the door behind you, locking it conveniently. When you turn back around to face him, he’s completely taken his attention off of whatever he had been doing, instead focusing on you. You slip your bag off your shoulders onto the vacant chair in front of his desk slowly as you hold his eyes, the exact expression you give him when you put on strip shows for him.

He’s leaning comfortably against his chair, his eyes darting appreciatively up and down your body, even though you’re wearing the biggest sweatshirt and the baggiest pair of faded blue jeans you own. He looks at you like you’re dressed in the lingerie that he bought you. He’s probably already mentally undressing you.

“Professor,” you murmur in your raspy voice, taking slow, measured steps around his desk, letting your fingers drag along the smooth wood of his desk.

His eyes visibly darken at your voice. He raises his chin as you reach him, his hazel eyes almost a dark brown in the artificial office light.

“Sit.”

There is only one available seat at the moment, so you hum and lower yourself onto his lap. Immediately, you can feel something digging into your butt and you make yourself comfortable. His jaw clenches and you see his hands noticeably tightening their grip on the armrests.

“I want to talk,” you murmur under your breath, tracing your finger along the exposed skin of his chest. You can feel him shiver just the tiniest bit under you, but you keep your smile to yourself.

“Yeah?” he breathes. He keeps his hands firmly attached to the armrests ― he wants to see where you are going to take this.

“You asked me if I had a rough night…” you trail off, letting your finger glide across his jaw. “...and I said I had a bad coughing fit.” You look straight into his eyes, which are darker than before and gleaming. “I lied.”

“Yeah?” he breathes again, his control slipping dangerously fast.

You nod, making sure the action involves your whole body. He lets out a harsh breath.

“I did have a rough night, but it wasn’t from a coughing fit,” you say, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He notices with a hitch in his breath, but doesn’t try to stop you. “It was someone driving his cock down my throat.”

Brian nearly chokes on his next breath. Nearly. He jerks in his seat and his hands fly to your waist, fingers greedily squeezing and massaging.

You lean forward until your lips are right next to his ear and whisper raspily, “And I loved it.” You hear him gasp just as you bite the shell of his ear softly. His fingers dig into your skin and his erection stirs, growing harder against you.

He’s breathing harshly into your neck, his chest moving quickly against yours.

“Baby, I―” he starts, but you cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“I know you love how I sound right now, all raspy and sore from you fucking my throat,” you say, slowly sliding off of his lap to sink onto your knees. You unbutton his shirt fully to reveal his chest and belly, the muscles taut with anticipation. “I bet it reminded you of how good it felt, didn’t it? Having your hands in my hair and pushing your cock deep into my mouth; you love how pretty my lips look wrapped around your cock? Love the sounds that it makes when you fuck my throat like you’d fuck me?”

You’re toying with his belt buckle, glancing up at him with your eyes wide. His eyes are hooded and his pupil blown as he stares down at you, his breathing ragged. He’s painfully hard now, straining against the limited space in his slacks. He must’ve been affected from the moment you spoke this morning ― Brian is uncharacteristically absorbed and isn’t as poised as he normally is. His control is held by a thin thread that will snap in any moment now.

You undo his belt and drag the zipper down, over the tent. He’d went for white boxers today, and you can clearly see the outline of his cock through the material, an unmistakable dark patch growing where the head is.

You plant the softest, but wet kiss against his clothed cock, and he groans. Dangerously close now.

You bite your lower lip and reach forward to peel his boxers down, his length springing free and slapping against his navel. It is red, swollen, and leaking. Ouch.

His cock twitches when you lean forward to ghost your lips over his length, letting your hot breath linger against the sensitive head. You glance up at him to find him with his eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape with anticipation. He is expecting you to go down on him right this instant ― his control really is gone.

You pull away and stand up. Brian immediately notices the absence of warmth and his eyes snap open with confusion, his mouth dropping even more. You smooth your hands down your sweatshirt and give him the sweetest smile you only reserve for when you want to make a bargain with the lecturers.

“Have a nice day, Professor.” You shoot him a wink and turn around to grab your bag. Brian is still comprehending what has just happened, but he is so hard, all he can think about is the feeling of your lips wrapped around himself. He can only gawk as you pull open the door and leave without a single glance back.

* * *

You know you’re going to have hell to pay for doing Brian so dirty ― leaving him high and dry in his office ― but that sense of victory you feel for the rest of the day is almost worth it. You waltz back into your apartment with a skip in your steps, pushing open the flimsy door with more enthusiasm than you usually have touching that piece of wood. After you enter your room, you throw your bag onto your chair and start finishing up the work that are due the next day. You have a feeling you’d be busy tonight.

You lose track of time in the pile of work you have — you really have to stop procrastinating and leave yourself a mountain of immediate work. When you’re finally done, it’s already way past six in the evening, almost seven. Your stomach growls in accord.

You check your phone and the edge of your lip turns up at the text you’d receive from Brian.

Dinner. You’re not allowed to say no.

You grin to yourself. You could tease him further, but he already sounded so tense through text, are you going to push him further?

No.

You keep your stationery and books into your bag slowly as you wait for Brian’s response. Your heart is hammering heavily in your chest and your hands shake a little from how anxious you are.

His reply only took 5 minutes, but it sure feels like 50 years.

Don’t test me, baby. I’m not feeling generous right now.

You can picture Brian clenching his jaw and his expression darker than usual as he types out the messages. You’re thrilled at how worked up and angry Brian is, even though you really shouldn’t be. If last night was rough, you don’t know if you can survive tonight, especially with an angry professor.

Just kidding. Where will we meet?

At yours. I’ll be in twenty.

You can’t help but allow yourself a sick grin as you open your wardrobe, searching for the perfect piece to put on. Your eyes, however, land on a white paper bag lying at the bottom. You’ve almost forgotten about that. You bend down to retrieve the paper bag and gingerly set it on your bed. It’s a set of white lingerie you purchased from Victoria’s Secret a few weeks ago.

It seems to you that Brian has a soft spot for white clothing, and this set of garment is sure going to drive him absolutely crazy, especially when he’s as worked up and angry as he is now. You hop into the shower to clean yourself up before changing into the white lace, barely avoiding tearing it into pieces in your haste to get it on. When everything is in place, you have never felt more beautiful. The white lace complements your skin perfectly and accentuated all your curves. You feel modelesque, almost, striking all these poses before the mirror.

Then your phone chimes with a sharp message notification, and you immediately know that it’s Brian. You quickly slip into a nondescript white sweater and a pair of shorts before almost skipping to the front door to answer it. You pull open the door to find yourself face to face with Brian, who seems so much taller than usual. He doesn’t look as angry as you thought he’d be — in fact, he looks nonchalant as he crosses the threshold of your apartment and steps inside, one hand in his pocket while the other carries the takeout bag. You shut the door behind him and follow him to the kitchen, where he is retrieving plates from the overhead cabinet easily, like he’s done it a million times. You lean against the counter and look at him work quietly, eyes lingering on the way his hands expertly empty the fried rice onto your plates.

The meal is silent and tense, but you don’t really know why. Brian doesn’t look angry, he looks passive. He looks like he does every other day — like his thoughts are spinning at 70 miles per hour in his head — but instead of smiling and talking to you about his day, or teasing you relentlessly, he’s quiet. That scares you a little, more than if he’s yelling you. You eat your rice across the table from him, your eyes darting everywhere but him. But you can feel his heavy gaze landing on you every few minutes, and every time it sends shivers down your spine.

When you’re both done, you offer to wash the plates and he lets you wordlessly. You are running the slippery plates under the tap to wash off the dish soap when you feel heat against the back of your neck. You gasp when you feel him plant a wet kiss at the base of your neck and instinctively bucked your hips backwards as you arch your back, but he places a warm hand on your waist to hold you in place.

“Let’s play a game, baby,” Brian rasps at your ear, his breath hot and ticklish against the shell of your ear. “You’re mine for the rest of the night.” He pauses to plant another wet kiss on the sensitive skin behind your ear. That elicits a moan from you and one of his hands snakes up to your mouth to pinch your bottom lip. “And that, is not allowed.”

What?

“You heard me, baby girl,” he coos, pulling at your bottom lip and then letting go. “You’re not allowed to make any sound, unless I’m addressing you directly or it’s your safeword.” Your grip on the plate is hard as you nod. He squeezes your waist in warning. “Use your words when I address you directly.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He lightly scratches the exposed skin under the hem of your sweater before leaving you to finish washing the dishes.

You’re panting and out of breath as you stare at the running water. For a second you forget how washing a plate goes before your brain recovers and you quickly rinse off the soap and place the plate on the dish rack. You swallow hard, before turning around, to see Brian beckoning you to your room. You absently wipe your hands dry on your sweater as you obey his silent command immediately, your legs carrying you to your room on their own accord.

Brian shuts and locks the door behind you, and you’re officially closed off from the world with an obviously still angry Brian. And he’s clearly seeking revenge, that you can tell will be filled with relentless teasing. You notice that the shirt he’s wearing is only buttoned half-way, revealing his tanned and taut chest, as well as that necklace with the pendant resting right on the hollow of his throat. He stalks around you like a predator would a prey, his eyes snaking up and down your body appreciatively until he reaches your bed and he sits down.

You stand in front of him, unsure of what to do and desperately turned on, until he gives you a simple command: “Strip for me.”

You are eager to obey his every command. It’s been a long tiring day and you want nothing more than to succumb to him and let him take control. You slip the sweater off and blush at the way Brian’s eyes widen a little at the white lace hugging your breasts. Your shorts are next to go and Brian leans back on his elbows, his eyes running up and down your body with an appreciative smile on his lips. You are extremely pleased by his reaction and reach behind to unhook your bra, but he stops you.

“Leave your underwear on. You look beautiful in these,” he says. You let your hands fall, and nervously toy with the hem of your panties as you wait for his next order. “C’mere,” he murmurs softly and you stop before him. He sits up straight and his hands land on your hips, his palms warm against your cool skin. His fingers massage the skin softly and he leans forward to plant a kiss on the valley between your breasts. You clench your core at that feeling, already feeling a little overwhelmed and he’s barely touched you.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs against the soft skin of your belly. “Did you wear these for me?”

You nod fervently, but his soft kisses end with a nip of his teeth. “Use your words.”

“I did, Sir,” you breathe, and you feel him continuing to press soft kisses to your skin, slowly travelling upwards.

His lips reach your chest, kissing and licking at the swell of your breasts, but never truly giving attention where you desperately want him. You hands are clenched into tight fists beside you and your breathing is ragged, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. Brian is hell-bent on teasing the fuck out of you and this is only just the warm-up.

Slowly, his hands start travelling south until they rest on your ass. His hands knead the flesh with a low groan and without warning, he spreads your cheeks apart and you nearly gasp at the feeling.

“So perfect for me,” he groans and press a hot kiss against your navel, just above the hem of your panties. Your bottom lip is going to bruise from how hard you are biting on it to keep the desperate whines at bay. One of his hands land on your ass cheek with a slap and you buck your hips, tipping your head back at the chilly sensation starting to spread across your bum. “Such a good girl now, yeah? You weren’t like this in the afternoon, were you?”

When you don’t answer, he delivers another spank to your other cheek. “Answer me.”

“No, Sir,” you all but whimper. “Please.”

He continues to knead the now burning skin of your ass, his fingers slipping dangerously close to your dripping center. Your hands snake up his arms to circle around his neck, pulling him to your breasts and begging him to touch you already. But he isn’t easily swayed. Not right now.

“Such an impatient little thing. So desperate and—” he slips his finger to your damp panties, “—so wet for me.” He rubs the wet material with his index and middle finger and your legs almost give out from the minimal stimulation. “You’re so soaked, baby,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers back to find them glistening a little.

He pulls at the hem of your panties until you are sure he can just peer down and look at your pussy, then lets go and let the thin elastic snap against your hips.

“You’ve been so good for me, baby,” he says, and you widen your eyes at him. Is he finally done with the teasing? He reaches up behind your back and easily unhooks your bra, and you quickly wiggle out of it and he throws it across the room. His cups your breasts eagerly in his hands and his thumbs quickly start circling your nipples. You let out a sigh and push your chest forward for him. “And good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” You are deciding whether you are expected to answer his question when he leans forward and you realise, it’s rhetorical.

His lips reach your right breast and he swirls his tongue around your sensitive nipple before he wraps his lips around it and start sucking hard. You keep your hand around your mouth to muffle any sounds that might escape. He lets his teeth graze against your nipple and then soothe it with his tongue, before releasing it to blow cool air against the wet skin. He does the same with your other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple where his mouth is not around. You feel yourself growing wetter until he releases your nipple with a wet pop and his fingers quickly go for where you’re the most desperate for him.

The first swipe of his finger against your slit elicits a groan from him, and a silent moan from you. He dips his finger in to collect some of your wetness and brings it to his face. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans and slips his finger into his mouth to suck it clean. “God, you taste so good.” You can barely keep your whimpers to yourself when he hooks his fingers around the elastic and pulls the white lace down with one smooth tug. You step out of the soiled material with shaky legs and then he pulls you onto the bed before climbing on top of you.

It feels so erotic to be naked while Brian is still fully clothed. You rub your bare pussy against the tent in his jeans and you sigh at the direct stimulation on your clit. He realises what you are doing immediately and holds your hips still with one hand.

“Stop,” he grits out. “Don’t do that.” He leans down to kiss you for the first time tonight, and you sigh into the kiss. The kiss is fervent and desperate and full of clashings of tongues and teeth, but it is perfect. It is probably driving Brian crazy too to be teasing you for so long, and he pours all his frustrations into the kiss. He pulls away with a gasp. “I need to taste you. Now.”

He then descends down your body, pressing hot, wet kisses down where he can reach, biting and sucking until it almost hurts. Then he’s pressing the softest kisses on your thighs, slowly travelling inwards to where you’re pulsing with need. You have never been more turned on in your life, and watching Brian staring at your bare center with awe could’ve made you come on the spot. He swipes his finger up your slit just to test the waters, and your hips buck at that simple stimulation. He’d only graze your clit slightly and you’d reacted so strongly. How would you even survive with his tongue and lips—

You bite back the scream that bubbles at your throat the moment he licked his way up from your entrance to your clit, groaning to himself as he does so. He laps at your entrance, making obscene noises as he slurps and groans. You fingers find his hair and tug hard at the roots, and he grunts against your clit. Almost in revenge for that, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard. You tug at his hair again but this time he doesn’t mind. He continues to suck at your clit, only letting go to push the sensitive bud around with his tongue. He closes his lips around your clit again, this time swirling his tongue around it and gingerly letting his teeth graze against it. You buck your hips up in a silent cry. You just need one more of that and you’d come…

He pulls away.

Your eyes snap open like how his did this afternoon. Brian smirks wickedly at you as he shrugs off his shirt. His chest is glistening with sweat like his chin is glistening with your wetness. Your orgasm slips away just like that and your bottom lip quivers. He is evil. He stands up to unbutton his jeans and push them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, rock hard and red and wet at the tip.

He returns to his earlier position and blows cold air against your throbbing pussy. “You didn’t think I’d forget what you did to me this afternoon, did you?” He kisses your clit. “Got me so hard and left me alone in my office to fend for myself; that wasn’t nice.” He licks up your slit. “I had to jerk myself off in my office, where other teaching staff could catch me.” He dips his tongue into your entrance. “I couldn’t come, because I was so nervous about being caught — whether I was seen of heard.” You feel his finger lightly grazing your entrance before he pushes it inside you. He pumps it torturously slowly, twisting his finger with every thrust, grazing against your front wall every time. “Look at me.”

You peel open your eyes to look at his hungry eyes. His dark eyes smoulder in the light as he adds another finger, stretching you deliciously. You lock eyes for a few seconds before he glances down, his gaze resting on the way your lips stretch to accommodate his fingers. He adds another, now pumping three digits in and out of you. You’re panting, gripping the sheets tightly as you feel your orgasm building quickly. His thumb starts rubbing your clit tightly and you gasp, feeling yourself getting closer by the second. When you start clenching around his fingers, now knuckle deep, he pulls away completely, for the second time tonight.

Your legs are shaking from being denied an orgasm twice in a row.

He sits up, giving you time to recover from the brink. You clench desperately around nothing as you will your orgasm to come back. You try to rub your thighs together from some friction, but his knee keeps you from doing that. He keeps your legs spread wide open for him so he can look at you pulsing for him. He licks his fingers clean of your wetness and leans forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He collapses beside you, leaning against the headboard. “I say you finish what you started earlier, baby,” he murmurs. You allow yourself a second to breathe before you get up and straddle his legs, your pussy throbbing with need.

Despite how nonchalant Brian is acting, you can tell he’s desperate for stimulation. He’s achingly hard against his lower belly, red and leaking at the tip. You’re going to make this good for him.

You ghost your lips over his length, and Brian takes in an audible breath. You lick a bold stripe from the base to his tip, and he groans loudly. He’s been so hard for so long, that just the feeling of your tongue on him feels like heaven. You do it again, tracing the prominent vein along the length of his cock until you reach the tip. You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and gently kiss the sensitive head, licking away the precome that beaded around the slit. Then you wrap your lips around the head start sucking. His hips buck uncontrollably and pushes his cock further into your mouth to push against your palate.

You start bobbing your head, taking him further and further down until his hits the back of your throat. He groans loudly and you pull off him with a loud pop. You breathe greedily, pumping his cock in a circular motion until he slips his hand into your hair to pull at your roots lightly, urging you to give him your mouth again. You take his cock in your mouth and let your tongue swirl around the head, sucking hard on the head before pushing him further down your throat. Your eyes start to water as you take him deeper, and you pull off of him again.

“Such a good girl,” he groans, and he cups your cheek, wiping away the tears with his thumb. You lean down to suck him again, but he stops you and flips you around so he’s above you again. “You’ve been such a good girl, haven’t you?” he murmurs, and you whimper. He starts circling your clit with his fingers. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes, Sir,” you croak out. “I’ve been such a good girl for you, Sir.”

“You have,” he confirms and you feel him lining himself up at your entrance. Your legs quiver in anticipation. “And good girls deserve what?”

“A reward, Sir— fuck!” He pushes into you in one swift motion and buries himself to the hilt.

He groans into your ear. “God, you feel so good around me. Always so good, so wet and so tight around me.”

“Please,” you beg. You don’t even care that you’re not allowed to make noise anymore. It seems like Brian doesn’t care, too. Because he groans and pulls out all the way before sinking into you once again, bottoming out in one swift movement. “Fuck, you’re so deep, please, Sir.”

He starts fucking you, setting a punishing pace. With every snap of his hips, he drives his cock deep inside you and you feel your orgasm quickly building. Your room is filled with the sounds of yours and Brian’s heavy breathing, as well as the lewd noise of his cock sliding in and out of you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he reaches impossibly deeper inside you.

Brian groans when he looks down at where you are joined, mesmerised by the way his cock slides effortlessly in and out of your pussy, watching as his cock disappears into you and relishing the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

“God, you’re so tight,” he grunts, speeding up his thrusts as you whine. You scratch your nails down his back and feel his muscles moving underneath your fingers. He feels so good inside you and he’s so fucking deep. Your orgasm is building quickly and you tighten your walls around him, to which his groans and fucks you harder. “Fuck, are you close?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, and he buries his face between your neck and shoulder, messily kissing the sweaty skin. His fingers reach down to your joined bodies and start rubbing your clit in tight circles, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine, pushing you closer to your release. “Oh, fuck!”

Brian kisses you messily as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Come for me, baby,” he grunts against your lips, his fingers relentless against your clit and his cock driving deep inside you. The combined feeling of his fingers and his cock tips you over the edge. You fall, hard, as you come apart. So hard that your vision blackens at the edges for a few seconds. You clench around Brian’s cock, and he groans almost painfully.

He’s still fucking into you desperately, chasing for his own release.

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper in his ear, and that is all he needs.

His comes, his cock jerking inside of you as he empties himself, coating you in his come. He lazily thrusts into you through his orgasm, until it’s over. You’re so oversensitive now that it is starting to hurt, so you tap Brian on his shoulder for him to stop.

He does, stilling inside of you before gently pulling out. Immediately you feel his seed trickling out messily along with your wetness and onto your sheets. But you’re so exhausted that you can’t even care less. Brian kisses you slowly and sweetly before collapsing beside you in exhaustion.

You’re both breathing hard, your body still still shaking from the mind-blowing orgasm you just had.

Brian allows himself a few seconds before he sits up. “Are you okay?” he asks, affectionately pushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

You nod weakly at him, and he smiles at you. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He gets up and disappears for a moment before returning with a warm cloth. He wipes you clean, careful to avoid over-stimulating you. When he’s done, he disappears again, this time returning with two glasses of water. “Here.” He hands you a glass and you shoot him a grateful smile. You gulp the water down greedily, relishing the feeling of the water soothing your throat. Your throat is going to be even sorer tomorrow, you’re sure of that, but you can’t bring yourself to even be mad at Brian.

Brian is busy staring at your body with a ghost of a smile on his lips. What? You look down, and you discover little hickeys dotting all over your skin, especially around your breasts. Brian shouldn’t be, but he is proud of them. These marks showed that he is the man responsible for your pleasure, that he is the man responsible for your orgasms. He leans down to kiss the marks he’d made, smiling against your skin with you reach into hair to tug at his curls.

As usual, you cuddle for a bit until you’re both dry and recovered enough before Brian leaves. You watch as Brian untangles himself from you, struggling a little to get his limbs to function as he climbs off of your bed. He bends down to retrieve his boxers to slip it on.

Your eyes widen and you gasp silently as you stare at Brian’s back.

Long, red lines run down his back as claws of pleasure. You feel yourself blush, remembering yourself running your nails down his back as he fucks you. Just like him, you’d left marks on his body to show that he’s yours, and that feels good. His back muscles roll as he slips his shirt on and covers up the red lines. If he wears a white shirt tomorrow, those lines are going to be very visible. He turns around as he buttons his shirt up half-way, and pulls his jeans up. He smirks at you staring at him and you decide not to tell him about the lines.

Now that he’s fully clothed, you sit up, and the sheets fall off your body, revealing your hickey-decorated breasts. He groans at the sight and you grin at him before covering yourself with the sheets.

He leans forward to kiss you sweetly on the mouth, a lingering goodbye kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmurs with one last kiss on your forehead before he leaves.

The temperature of your room drops drastically in the wake of his absence. You gingerly climb off the bed and limp to your bathroom. Your reflection in the mirror looks completely fucked out, cheeks rosy and lips swollen, not to mention the hickeys extending from your boobs down. You’re sure your voice would be multiple times worse than it is today, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This arrangement with Brian is perfect, and you never want it to end.

#brian may x reader #brian may #rough night #my writing

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adhd-sorcha · 5 years ago

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Im trying to get into the medical field and I have a super hard time with adhd. Any advice for getting through all that schooling?

I am soooo sorry I took so long to answer this (good thing you didn’t go on anon!). I have no excuse, I’m just like this.

Before I get into anything, I just want to say that I was only diagnosed a few months ago, so I didn’t go through school consciously coming up with ADHD-busting strategies and there were definitely mysterious difficulties that I’m only now understanding but at the time I never managed to sort (*shakes fist at essay based subjects/exams*). I will tell you what I think were my accidental ADHD-helping techniques though! One other thing, I have predominantly inattentive ADHD ( or formerly ADD) so if you or anyone else are looking for tips on how to stay seated for extended periods or anything like that, I’m afraid I’m no help there. Sorry!! Also, since I don’t know what stage you’re at school-wise, I’ll include things that I found useful in secondary school too, in case it’s useful.

So, in no particular order! (this may get long...)

- Diary, diary, diary: In the schools (primary and secondary) here in Ireland you get given a diary at the start of the year. At the end of every class, the teacher writes up the homework and we copy it into our diaries. Great system!! The diary is only for school so it never needs to leave your school bag, so it should be hard enough to forget. I used to only write short notes, eg. Maths: pg 20, part a-e or something like that. It makes it easy to look through at the end of the day when collecting your books to bring home. I used to look at one line, put those books in my bag, then look at the next line. One at a time. And I often double-checked. It made me slower to get ready to leave than everyone else, but hey! I remembered my stuff! I got myself a diary for college when I moved on. They are soooo helpful. And it’s so satisfying to tick things off as you do them!!

- Have ONE school bag: Might sound weird, but I know people who, in college, just bring whatever handbag matches their outfit that day. No! You’re going to forget to transfer something over. With one bag, you can keep your school diary and pens and student card and things like that in it. They will always be in there. No need to go moving them around, they’ll only get lost if you do that. It just helps to limit the things that you have to remember to bring with you, if your bag is already kind of packed as a default.

- Take advantage of desk/locker space: Keep spare items at your desk/in your locker so that even if you forget to put them in your bag, you’re still covered. Things that I’ve kept at desks/in lockers include: spare pair of glasses, hair ties for labs, spare writing paper (so it doesn’t matter if you forgot your copy!), pens/highlighters/pencils, socks (it rains a lot here, probably not the most relevant...). Absolutely anything that you think you may be likely to forget and is safe to leave at school just keep a spare one already there! (maybe don’t leave valuables...)

- Set your timetable as your lockscreen/homescreen: I’ve never done this one personally. I kept my timetable in my diary. I find it easier to read. But, I know a few people who used to make out their timetable in Word or something and set that as the lockscreen on their phone. People tend to keep their phones somewhere that’s easy to reach, so it shouldn’t conflict too much with executive dysfunction or anything like that.

- Routine: Having a set routine can really help with getting homework done. It becomes a habit and so a certain amount becomes automatic. I used to do mine as soon as I got home from school/college. And I had a set time for when to start my work at the weekends.

- Bring the lecture slides to lectures: I assume this will vary by college, but our lecturers used to post their lecture slides to the class site before the lecture so you could bring them to class. You could either bring the pdf on a tablet/laptop or print them off. (If you’re using a tablet/laptop you can always download the notes when you get there so it’s okay if you forgot to do it before class!). I found these helpful because I only had to make note of the extra information that the lecturer said out loud or I could just highlight important words, thereby limiting the amount I actually had to write. When I just had blank paper, I was always trying to write everything for some reason and just became lost...

- Make study notes that suit you! I remember being shown in school how to make notes when studying. But I found the standard neat lines, black/blue pen that teachers wanted didn’t work for me. They were boring to look at so they were boring to use. So I made them interesting! I used lots of colourful pens, sticky notes just to create little ‘boxes’, scribbled in the margins, drew labelled diagrams instead of putting some things into words. People would actually ask from time to time how I studied from them XD Study notes are one of those things that we’re taught how to do, but there really isn’t a one size fits all approach to it, so don’t be afraid to do different things with your notes. I used mind maps to study history in school! Here’s an example of my 3rd year pharmacology notes (believe it or not there isn’t any colour-coding XD I just went with what was fun!).

- Have a study buddy: This seriously helped me when I moved from school to college. The two girls I became friends with in first year were so much better at organising study and assignment work between lectures than I was. They’d just automatically go to the library to get stuff done between lectures so I went with them and just worked on whatever they were working on. Having them around kept me on track. We did this informally (by which I mean I’ve only recently come to realise that copying their behaviour is why I got through my first two years so well, they have no idea that that’s what I was doing XD), but you could always formalise something like this with someone. There is no shame in needing someone to help you organise your study or needing someone around to work on assignments together. You don’t have to do education on your own.

- Have multiple study places: I know study advice normally says have one dedicated location for study, but that gets so boring. I might be able to study at my desk in my room this month but then it gets boring and I can’t study. So, I have multiple dedicated locations for study. My desk at my room, the main college library, library on a different campus. People with ADHD like novelty, so sometimes I find having a change in study scenery can help focus on work!

- ASK FOR HELP: To be fair, this is one I still struggle with myself. But honestly, so many problems can be solved so easily if you just tell someone about them. Can’t remember when that exam is happening? Ask. Don’t know how to make that application/do that assignment? Ask. What did those instructions even mean? Ask. Forget where that office is? Ask. So many educators, particularly at third level, genuinely want their students to do well, but they can’t help if they don’t know you need it. I know for myself I don’t want people to know how disorganised or confused I get so I put off asking questions, but the sooner you ask, the sooner the problem gets fixed!

- If you need to do something differently, do it differently: Before I started my leave I was starting to realise that my having ADHD meant that I would have to do things differently to my neurotypical labmates. I was going to need to write more reminders of basic things for myself and stick them all over my bench. I was probably going to generate data more slowly than them because time management and organisation is difficult for me. I was going to need to have a detailed protocol next to me at all times instead of knowing the procedure off by heart like the rest of them. The neurotypical way is not the only way. Doing something differently does not make it wrong.

- Be kind to yourself: The education system is tough enough on it’s own, but those of us with ADHD have some extra obstacles in our way. There really is no point in comparing yourself to someone who doesn’t have ADHD (or similar problems) and berating yourself for not getting as much done as them or doing something slower etc etc. Don’t let ADHD limit you by any means, just remember that the route to success looks different for different people.

I think I’ll stop it here. This is getting quite long! Like I said, I’m newly diagnosed so there are things that I’m still struggling with myself (time-management is a big one!! I am 100% unqualified to give people advice on that one!!) and the things that I have done well have been more lucky accident than anything else. I hope these are somewhat helpful? Feel free to ask anymore questions though! And I wish you the best of luck with getting into medicine!!

#asks #tips #neurodivergent academia #adhd #actually adhd

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steveramsdale · 5 years ago

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Big dipper Blog - 10.10

This blog is, essentially, the same as last week’s. There are some alternative factual details, but they are superficial. Anyway, you could just reread (or remember) last week’s offering and save yourself a bit of time. If you do decide to read on, we could make it more fun. You could try to decide for yourself the highest high and the lowest low. Remember, it’s just for fun. There’s no prize, so don’t write, text or email.

I think, as people, we are supposed to grow, to learn, to develop. That’s the most startling revelation you’ll read today. Adversity can be, I’m told, an opportunity for such personal growth. It may, in fact, be true, that I have been learning about myself. I wonder if my ‘issue’ is that if one thing is wrong, it affects everything else. See what you think.

On Saturday, my chief goal was to get the car de-registered and get the papers I need for me to be able to export it. The police centre I needed to go to was advertised as opening at 9:30 so I had time to get up and get sorted. I had a wonderful colleague on notice to be available for telephone translation if necessary.

I took a 6am trip to the shop through the park. Many people were already out running, I’d say 100 or more and it’s not a big park. Much of Tashkent has given up on lockdown.

Soon it was time to head off for the simple process of taking my car off its registration here! Google maps took me behind the centre where there was no gate. It was not difficult to find a way round to the front. That was the last time a problem was easily solved on Saturday. When we got the van and went to register it for the first time, the father and son who sold it to us, took me and helped. Even so, when we got there, they accepted the help of a man who was at the centre to do just that - help, for a fee, people through the process. He charged me about £20 but probably saved us 3 or 4 hours by knowing what to do and going to the front of queues. When I returned to the scene of this lengthy but problem-free process, there were, again, these free-lance ‘sorters’ and I decided it would be worth accepting help. The price was about the same. However, the first problem emerged in minutes. The address. I knew, back in September, that this would be a problem one day, would bite me on the bum. Sorry, I forgot to say that this blog would contain strong language and adult themes. I have a credit card-sized, well, card which is my ownership document (log book). It has all of the details about me and my van. So, of course, the address is our old address. Now, in my passport, I have my new address. I did not sort this out. The people at the centre said they could not de-register me until I changed the address (of course I questioned this), and that I could not change he address there but had to go to the centre in Yunusabad. I paid about £2 for something and my assistant asked for (and received) about £5 for his help. I set off for the other centre.

Long-time readers may (won’t) remember that at the original registration, we also went to two centres - the wrong one first. The centre I had to go to now was that ‘wrong’ one. I love symmetry, and here it was. When I got there, again came the offers of help. There were more guys here and they wanted £60. I declined, at this rate. I first drove into the inspection hall. Here they check the car against the ‘tec-passport’ as the credit-card is called. They match up the chassis number, etc. I had the papers from the first centre, so that went through without a hitch. Thereafter, the day was just a big hitch or series of small hitches that’s looked like one big hitch. We return to the Uzbek system, seen at the Kazakh border (remember) of needing to go from window to window, room to room. However, I was soon (a relative term) told that I would not be able to deregister the van until I had proof that I was leaving the country too. This would be in the form of a stamp in my passport given by my landlord! This cuts a longer story short and, by now, includes Miss Viktoriya as my telephone translator. I was certain that this could not be right (by the way, the miss-matched address was no longer an issue. It would mean, for example, that an Uzbek could not export a car to a relative in Russia! I tried explaining this, we went back to the main hall to talk to the boss a couple of times, but no one was changing this story. I phoned Pim, the export guy who has helped with every stage of this van conversion, and he put me on to a colleague. We talked and he also spoke to the officials there but got the same answer. Pim then told me that his people would look in to it more on Monday (yes, this story goes on) and help to sort it. The woman I had been dealing with insisted that I go back to the other centre and get my £2 back - which was an incorrect charge. She even phoned them to arrange it for me. I didn’t go back. Not for £2.

As an aside, there has to be a better way for the authorities to organise this free-for-all. The system is not a system. Queuing is almost non-existent and the mass of people at peak times is ridiculous. The spivs there to help....It is bad enough in normal times, but while a pandemic is still around....

So now I was free, for the rest of Saturday and Sunday to worry and consider the prospect of being unable to send the van (and the ridiculous amount of other stuff) home. Here is where I realised that this one problem took over everything. I heard that cafes and restaurants would be allowed to re-open on Monday and immediately thought of Ecorn. I should have been more happy. I wasn’t. I did decide I would go and have a chicken caesar sandwich after work on Monday.

Monday was a tough day. There quite a lot of end of year stuff at school, practical stuff, which I’m finding stressful. Then there’s this. The rule is ridiculous but it seems to be the rule! Then, some good news - someone offered to help me. I had called Ekaterina, the woman who deals with staff visas and registration. I thought that she would know about this stamp I needed or would be able to find out. She did not know about the stamp but said that she would go with me to the car centre to find out about it. I still had the papers. We went after my last lesson and when she was free. We went to the office of the ‘Saturday woman’. She wasn’t in the office but her colleague remembered me and said I could go to the main room. We went across and up to a free window. Ekaterina spoke to the police officer there. He immediately told us that no such stamp was needed and, had I brought the car, or even just the number plates, he could have done it there and then! We had gone in a taxi. I asked if there was time for me to go and get the plates then, but there was not. I resolved to go early the next day as he said it would take about 30 minutes. And suddenly the world was full of sunlight and joy again. I looked with pleasure upon my fellow Uzbeks, pushing to the front of queues and standing too close to each other.

We shared a taxi as Ekaterina lives quite close to the centre. I enjoyed (really enjoyed) my Ecorn sandwich. Life was good again. As an aside, these were my first taxi rides since The 22nd March. I saw Z—- JB so I’m sure KB is out there somewhere. Will I see it?

On Tuesday morning, as planned, I went back to the Gai. It opens at 8 so I was there at 7:30. The officer from the evening before was the first to arrive and had the key for the room (more of a hall, really). My first lesson of the day is at 9. School is a 15/20 minute taxi ride away away (I was going in to school to do some of the other jobs I have to do), so this would be a doddle. I was the only customer. I had the number plates and the documents and handed them over. The officer began the process. After about 20 minutes we went over to the cassa (the payment room. He took me. It was about £6. The woman there said I should go back to get my refund (I had given her my receipt from the other place). I agreed that I should but did not say I would not. A taxi there and back would be about £4! We returned to the main room. he continued the process. Time continued to move on. More customers began to arrive. Many went to my guy’s window and he flitted between my job and theirs. None of them could see the ‘maintain distance’ stickers on the floor. These were very obtrusive, written in Uzbek and Russian and invisible to local men. As time ticked on, it was clear I would be late for my first lesson. I sent my students an email. I waited. Eventually, my officer moved across the room, to a computer. This is it. he’s going to print my papers. After about another 20 minutes, I saw the ‘printing’ notification/animation appear on his Windows ME screen. And, five minutes later, he was handing me the paper work. It was done. My first lesson of the day was abandoned but I had what I needed.

One more observation here - no one in Tashkent will be getting coronavirus of the chin.

While I was feeling sorry for myself, over the weekend, I saw people collecting rubbish being moved on by the police. I have mentioned previously, that there are always people sorting through the rubbish bin. The mostly seem to be collecting plastic bottles but take anything of value. This group of four had huge bags of plastic and were near ‘my’ bins. I have no idea why four police men were moving them on. I wondered how many plastic bottles you would need to collect in a day to ‘make a living’. I also wondered what these people had done wrong, ‘stealing’ my rubbish. I also wondered why I had been feeling so sorry for myself trying to sort out my ‘huge problem’. Perspective. It had gone. It has returned but I did not know it could be so fleeting.

I did some lessons at school on Tuesday and began all of the sorting, packing and tidying tasks. Mafirat, my TA, was in too. The internet is not great at school! It was good tom see people, but I was not entirely comfortable.

On Thursday, working from home again, I decided to go for coffee out before work. While walking round I saw two kittens playing and stopped to say ‘hi’. One had jumped into a ditch but the other stopped and looked at me. It the looked back at its mother (I’m guessing but 99.9% sure). She came stalking round a bush. She was ready to attack me if necessary. It was not necessary.

The fire engine and disinfectant squad were also back. While I was out, they sprayed all the way up the stairs in my building, so I imagine they were going through all of the buildings.

Thursday was also the day I would take the van. I had loaded everything. I had stuck the paper transit number plate in the front window. I was ready to go. It is a short drive to Pim’s warehouse. Of course I was stopped by a police man. he wanted to know why I was driving without number plates. As soon as I showed him the paper plate stuck in the window, he was fine. At the warehouse, about six guys unpacked everything and re-packed it in their boxes. It was (is) a ridiculous amount of stuff. And so, I left Munisa with strangers, to travel alone on the journey we should have made together.

And if I did stop at Ecorn and have another caesar sandwich, that’s nobody’s business but mine.

There were children playing inside my building. This is the first time this has happened. I could hear three or four playing further up the stairs - laughing and running around. Later, while I was talking to Mairi and Fred, they were outside my door. They were having a good time. I don’t know why they were playing on the stairs and I don’t mind. It was nice to hear voices and laughter.

Also on Thursday, in my last lesson of the day, guided reading, two notable things happened. A high and low (you decide). In our morning English lesson, we had defined some vocabulary, including ‘bittersweet’. We had talked about the meaning, in terms of taste, of the two parts of the word. They said they were happy that they understood it. The guided reading was Kensuke’s Kingdom. I had not realised it was the last chapter. We were suddenly at the end. I can assure you there are no spoilers ahead. As I was reading, I suddenly found myself getting emotional. The two main characters were interacting and I felt that I was going to cry. In fact, I did. The events of the last two or three paragraphs got to me. They are relevant to my situation, I suppose. This has never happened to me before in a lesson. I always tear up at the end of Sister Act 2 (the cinema’s greatest achievement) but this is a new one. One of the students said “Oh Mr Ramsdale, don’t cry!” The postscript didn’t help, but I regained my composure.

We talked about the complex emotions of the ending. One of my brightest students only every joins in through the chat. I looked in the box and she had written one word. -‘bittersweet’. My work here is done.

I know it’s been a longer one, but there are a few loose ends and thoughts.

Returning to an old them, I heard ‘unite together’. I also heard ‘plateaued off’. Unnecessary, people. Perhaps I should have said ‘returning back to an old theme’.

I saw JB. Driving over to the centre, I saw E___JB. So they’ve been out for a little while. Appropriately, the driver got that plate from one of the centres I went to this week!

Let’s finish with Trump. I mean that in both senses of that sentence. This week he again asserted that testing causes cases of the virus, so testing is bad. He also said that if people stop calling others racists, racism will quickly go away. At what age do toddlers acquire the concept of object permanence? He’s not there yet. If we can’t see him, will he cease to exist?

And that’s it. What sort of week has it been? Bittersweet.

See you next time.

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thirteen-beaxhes · 6 years ago

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Our Last Words - Chapter 3

Summary: In a universe where the last words your soulmate speaks to you are printed, Cyrus Goodman wants nothing more than to never meet them. And he definitely doesn’t want it to be the blonde-haired boy in his class.

ALL LINKS IN REBLOG

~~~~~~

Love - Lana del Rey

“I’ll get it!” Cyrus yelled as he ran down the stairs to open the door.

“You came!” he said in excitement, seeing Andi and Buffy armed with popcorn and cold drinks.

“You’re talking as if we haven’t been here since literally yesterday and all we did was go to Andi’s to get popcorn,” Buffy said, laughing at Cyrus’ enthusiasm.

“But it felt like forever,” Cyrus whined jokingly, grabbing the drinks from Andi’s hands, leaving Buffy with the three bags of popcorn.

“Um, hello?! A little help here?”

“Why Buffy? Can’t carry it yourself?” Andi teased, challenging Buffy.

Unable to back down from a challenge, Buffy simply huffed and manoeuvred her way to the kitchen.

“So, who else is coming, Cy?” Buffy asked, setting down the popcorn.

“So Jonah and Libby should be here in about 10 minutes. And Amber said she’ll be coming soon.”

“Amber’s coming?” Andi said, looking up from her phone, in a voice feigning disinterest. She was failing miserably at that.

“Ooh, Amber huh?” Buffy said, bumping her shoulder into Andi’s, clearly enjoying the way the blush was creeping across her cheeks.

“Who else is coming, Cyrus?” Andi asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“Only TJ.” Now it was Cyrus’ turn to be slightly flustered.

The girls immediately went ‘Ooooohh’ and laughed at Cyrus’ face. He was more than happy to open the door to Jonah and Libby.

Within the next half an hour, Amber and TJ also joined them, both arrivals garnering a round of winking and eyebrow-wiggling directed at Andi and Cyrus respectively.

“So what do you guys want to do?” Cyrus asked, also signing his words.

“Dude, it’s your birthday. You should decide!” Jonah replied, with sounds of agreement from everyone.

“Movie marathon and pizza!”

His response was greeted with loud cheers from everyone in the room until Buffy groaned. “You better not put on some documentary about reptiles, Cyrus or else I’ll never talk to you ever again.”

“Hey, I like watching those documentaries with Cy!” TJ replied, to Cyrus’ surprise.

“Sure, it’s the documentaries you like watching,” Buffy muttered, still very much audible. A chorus of ‘Aww’s sent the two boys blushing like crazy.

“The ‘Mamma Mia!’ movies?” Amber suggested, after everyone in the room had calmed down a bit.

They all needed just one look at each other before Cyrus ran to the laptop and loaded up the first movie.

They spent the next 4 hours just dancing and singing along to the classics that were ‘Mamma Mia!’ and ‘Mamma Mia!: Here We Go Again’. Cyrus looked around, noticing Andi and Amber sticking close to each other the whole time, Amber occasionally pulling in Andi for a dance. He couldn’t help but smile at the pair. They really were oblivious to the other’s affections. Libby and Jonah just seemed happy in the moment, as Jonah constantly tried to twirl Libby, failing miserably nine times out of ten. Buffy danced along with Cyrus sometimes, occasionally bumping into Jonah and Andi, distracting them. Otherwise, she mostly danced alone, smiling. Cyrus felt kind of bad, knowing that she was wishing Marty were there. He really had tried calling him, but like they had realised. The universe just wouldn’t let the two meet after the words had been said.

The times when Cyrus wasn’t dancing with Buffy, he was with TJ. It was a surprise he was alive, to be honest. TJ’s hair was messy with all the dancing, and his face just had this smile of just pure, unadulterated joy. Cyrus wanted to look at his smile forever. That may be creepy, but he couldn’t care much at the moment.

“Hey,” TJ whispered, pulling him aside during one of the scenes. “I got you something for your birthday.”

“Teej, I told you that you didn’t have to…” Cyrus started saying before TJ cut him off.

“I wanted to, okay? Here,” he said, handing Cyrus a paper bag. In it was an adorable soft toy dog with a handmade tag saying ‘Underdog’. And there was also a chocolate chocolate chip muffin.

Cyrus looked up at TJ, and he swore that his heart had melted. Why did TJ Kippen have to be so sweet and sentimental and perfect?

“TJ, I love it! Thank you,” Cyrus exclaimed, hugging TJ tight, keenly aware of his heart going ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom at a million miles per hour.

“I knew you would,” TJ replied, holding him closer.

Cyrus could have stayed there for ages, but a crashing sound made the two jump apart, alerting them that maybe Jonah should not be left near some tables and couches.

“Man, I forgot how draining it is dancing for 4 hours,” Amber exclaimed, collapsing into the couch as the credits of the second movie began to roll. The others all followed suit, some falling on top of each other in the process.

“Why Ambs, not got the stamina?” Andi teased, earning a light punch in the shoulder from Amber. Neither meant it, indicated by the looks of utter fondness in their eyes.

“Now what?” Jonah asked, putting an arm around Libby.

“Well,” Buffy said, her voice implying she had a scheme. “We could watch a horror movie…”

“No!” Andi and Cyrus yelled in unison. They were not watching horror movies with Buffy. She always picked the scariest ones, the last one having left them sleepless for a whole month.

“Oh, don’t worry Underdog. I’d protect you from everything,” TJ said, pulling Cyrus to him by the shoulder. Cyrus tried to keep him cool and act normal, but who was he kidding? That was enough to make his heart go crazy.

“Fine, if you wanna suck the fun out of everything.”

“Well, it’s already 10 pm. So we have, what, 5 hours until all of us are asleep?” Andi said.

“We can watch the Hunger Games movies! They’re good, plus we’ve seen them so many times, we might as well watch it another time.” Buffy replied, everyone nodding in agreement.

“Great! I prepared just for this eventuality,” Cyrus said, leaving the room to his friends’ confusion. He returned bearing a huge pile of blankets and pillows.

“Okay guys, here are your options of comforters. Choose wisely, as we won’t be getting up for the next 5 years,” Cyrus announced to the cheers from the group. After everyone had taken their blankets, there was only one left, and TJ and Cyrus had not taken one yet.

“Looks like we’ll have to share,” said TJ, winking at Cyrus. Oh, he was not going to survive.

“Good luck getting any blanket to yourself, Kippen,” Cyrus said, in a mock-threatening tone.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we Goodman?” TJ replied, his voice dropping low.

Cyrus simply rolled his eyes and sat on the couch, keeping a safe distance between him and TJ.

Oh please. What’s the worst that could happen?

It was only halfway through the 3rd movie that TJ noticed that Cyrus had fallen asleep on him, his arm snaked around TJ’s waist. Andi and Amber had fallen asleep, cuddling close. Libby and Jonah were signing and texting to each other. And Buffy was munching on popcorn and hugging her blanket, her concentration solely focused on the movie.

In this quiet moment, TJ snuck a glance at the sleeping boy using him as a pillow. The sight of Cyrus’ calm and peaceful face sent TJ’s heart into a frenzy. He tried to move Cyrus onto the pillow, but if he shifted even an inch, Cyrus just held on tighter. Cyrus looked adorable asleep (well, he looked adorable always, but especially when asleep) and TJ’s massive crush on Cyrus did not help him in the slightest.

After some time, of TJ trying to move Cyrus to no success, he just put his arm around him and continued watching. Eventually, the movie sounds became a lullaby, and the warmth coming from Cyrus holding onto him made TJ incredibly comfortable. Laying his head on top of Cyrus’, he soon fell asleep.

Cyrus woke up, slightly disoriented, as he noticed that the movies had stopped playing. He must have fallen asleep while still watching the 3rd one, he realised. He also realised, to his slight horror, that he was clinging onto TJ, who also had his arm around him and was resting his head on Cyrus’. He started, and before he could try and control himself, he felt TJ stir awake.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Cyrus whispered, trying to detach himself from TJ in the process.

“No no, it’s okay,” TJ replied, pulling Cyrus closer. “I don’t mind.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” TJ said, laughing softly. “My phone’s on the floor, probably out of charge.”

Cyrus lay his head on TJ’s shoulder, calming down a bit after the initial shock of waking up cuddling TJ Kippen. “What time do you think it is?” he whispered.

“Well, it’s still dark out, so like 4 I guess?”

Cyrus held TJ, the weird time somehow giving him a burst of courage? Confidence? Stupidity? Whatever it was, it was there. They lay quiet for a while, the only sound they could hear was each other’s breathing. Against his better judgement, Cyrus whispered, “I’m scared.”

TJ straightened up a bit. “About what, Cy?”

“Soulmates.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to meet a person who I think is the one, and when I find out they are, it’s too late.”

“Yeah, I understand. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would you make a person perfect for you, then not have you know until after you’ve lost them forever?”

There was a pause, when TJ asked, “Is there any person you wish is your soulmate?”

Cyrus sighed. “More like the opposite. There is a person who I wish isn’t my soulmate.”

“Oh?” TJ said, his smile coming through his voice. “Do I know them?”

Cyrus looked up at TJ, “Why should I tell you?”

“Come on, Underdog! You have to tell me.”

“Never in your wildest dreams.”

They laughed, but the realisation of the space between them, or lack of, hit them slowly. They were very much in each other’s personal space, but that didn’t matter to them, never had. Prompted by some unexplainable force Cyrus started leaning in ever so slowly and was surprised to see TJ do the same. His gaze flickered down to his lips and the distance between them was closing in and-

“Shoot!” Buffy whisper-screamed, as she fell off the couch. The sound sent TJ and Cyrus jumping apart. “Sorry!” she said, climbing back up.

“I’m just gonna sleep,” Cyrus said, not looking at TJ.

“Y-Yeah, me too,” TJ stammered back, moving to the other side of the couch.

They shared the blanket well enough, and Cyrus lay his head on the back of the couch, but he couldn’t sleep no matter how much he tried. He and TJ had been so close, and if Buffy hadn’t fallen then, who knows what would have happened?

No, he knew exactly what would have happened, and he didn’t know if he was more confused or scared.

The next morning, as the group packed up their things and left the Goodman residence, Cyrus still didn’t know what to say to TJ.

“Thanks for coming, Teej,” he said, setting for a simple one.

“No problem, Underdog. I had fun,” TJ replied, his eyes attempting to avoid Cyrus’.

“I’ll see you in school then?”

TJ nodded and walked away as Cyrus went into his house. He turned around and looked at TJ one last time, still confused about the events of the previous night. Shaking his head, he went back into his house.

A few moments later, TJ turned to look back at Cyrus just as he closed the door, emotions running fast through his mind.

~~~~~

Hey guys, hope you liked this chapter! I’m trying my hardest to keep a regular schedule so bear with me for a while!

If you want me to tag you when I post, please hmu!

#andi mack #tyrus #tyrus fanfic #tyrus fanfiction #our last words fic #my fic #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #ambi #amber #andi #buffy driscoll #jonah beck #libby #jibby #tj x cyrus #tyrus soulmate au #fanfic #fanfiction

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kiruuuuu · 6 years ago

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Smoke/Mute oneshot in which, as usual, utter chaos happens and I attempt an explanation as to where these pink Siege skins came from. (Rating M, crack + some sexiness going on, ~2.7k words) - written for @glockchen who asked me to write anything about these skins and I could never say no to you ♥♥♥

It starts with a simple drawing.

As it’s a perfectly normal morning in Hereford, the canteen, including the kitchen, is in complete and utter chaos: Caveira has followed through with her threat of disgustedly pouring what she calls bleached bullshit (also known as refined sugar) into Dokkaebi’s collar because the Korean woman forgot to buy ‘proper’ sugar, sparking a small war in their corner of the room, Blitz is currently burning the third batch of eggs and looking to his boyfriend for approval (and Rook reacts with a pained smile), and Bandit is surreptitiously trying to trip everyone walking past while pretending to be an angel in Montagne’s direction.

Mute and Smoke are sitting somewhere in the middle of all this, only half listening to Sledge’s tired mantra of they’re all adults they can clean up after themselves don’t get up let them make their own mistakes and learn.

“Gargle is such a typical, ugly English word”, Maestro muses and feeds the Scotsman a bite of his cheesecake because who needs breakfast food when there’s cake. “It’s onomatopoeic, agreed, but if the love of my life told me ‘I just gargled with maple syrup’ I wouldn’t care how sweet the kisses were because it’d be the same as if I proclaimed myself to be moist. Ugh.”

“I dunno, it can be pretty romantic”, Smoke shrugs and surreptitiously rolls his eyes at Mute – it’s clear why, the two lovebirds next to them are once again wholly lost in each other. “I sometimes gargle with Mark’s come and he never complains.”

Sledge chokes on the cheesecake and looks like he’s about to protest the mention of bodily fluids while he’s eating (and Mute gets ready to retaliate by pointing out the bright purple lovebites peeking over the Scot’s collar as well as the faint bruises on Maestro’s neck), when there’s a sudden, dramatic entrance. The door flies open and in strides Tachanka, head held high, stance proud and a fond smile on his lips.

Most of the ruckus dies down over the abrupt change in mood as the Russian makes a beeline for the fridge, carefully stepping over Bandit’s outstretched foot, avoiding the two flailing women and ignoring the sharp smell emanating from the stove. Now Mute notices the piece of paper in Tachanka's hand which he unfolds and then pins to the fridge door with a few magnets. From this distance, all Mute can see is a whole lot of pink.

Seeing as most pairs of eyes are glued to the old man by now, Tachanka grins and addresses the room with his booming voice: “If you ever ask yourself why the hell you’re still here – this is why.”

Curious, Mute leaves the quiet argument of what constitutes as revolting behind and joins the small crowd gathering around Tachanka, catching a better look of what seems to be a child’s drawing. It’s hard to make out at first as more than half of it is just a mix of different shades of pink, but eventually he identifies it as Tachanka himself holding what looks like a little girl, only his uniform has been recoloured from his usual olive and he’s displaying a horn as well as a mane and even a tail.

If he’s honest, it’s adorable. He knows the story, Glaz told it with a sheepish Tachanka modestly brushing him off but smiling appreciatively anyway: on their last mission, the old man heroically rescued a girl and made sure to carry her to safety and even reunite her with her parents. Judging by Tachanka's expression, it’s one of the most touching fan letters he’s received and he’s immensely proud, as he should be.

At least until Blackbeard steps up and snorts at the display. “Not at all your colour, I’m sorry to say, this looks like the gayest version of you”, he points out. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Says the guy with the man bun”, Pulse shoots back immediately.

“Is that bold-faced envy I hear? At least I have hair, Jack.”

“Yes. Too much of it. I’m just waiting for you to start stealing Sébastien’s plaid shirts.”

“I am comfortable enough in my masculinity to experiment with non-traditional looks, thank you very much. When’s the last time you changed anything about your appearance? I’ve seen your driver’s license. The only new thing about you are your wrinkles.”

Mute considers texting Smoke to stop demonstrating his ability to shove an entire piece of cake into his mouth and instead witness this rare American-on-American smackdown but forgets all about it when Tachanka, who’s been listening with a decidedly unimpressed scowl, chimes in: “You call yourself confident but mock this gift I got? Just because it’s pink?”

Belatedly, Blackbeard realises his mistake of potentially angering Tachanka of all people and tries to backtrack. “Well, I mean – only because you’d look silly wearing it. The picture is cute, but you in a pink uniform -”

“What’s wrong with a pink uniform?”

“It’s not really – it’s too visible, and you in pink is just laughable.”

“What’s wrong with me in a pink uniform?”

Mute is failing to suppress a grin by now. While Tachanka sounds perfectly calm and pleasant, Blackbeard is getting more and more flustered by the second. “It’s not a manly colour. You agree with me on that, right? You’d look stupid.”

“Pink used to be a boy’s colour, you know. A softer red, in a way. I think it’d suit you, it’d go with your hair.”

“I’d rather drop dead than be caught wearing something like this”, Blackbeard mutters and then wisely retreats before Tachanka's good mood dissolves into something else.

Amused, the Russian turns to Mute and mirrors his grin. “Confident in his masculinity, hm?”, he repeats doubtfully.

“We can actually make a pink uniform for you”, Mute suggests, causing Tachanka to perk up. “James has dyed clothes before.”

“Would you? I’m beginning to like the idea more and more. I can wear it during training and dazzle everyone.”

“I’ll even do you one better. Just wait a few days.” The two of them nod at each other and Mute returns to his table where Maestro is currently praising the soothing quality of green tea for an upset stomach. “James, I know what we’re going to do today”, he announces with a glint in his eye.

“Are you sure these are the correct measurements?”, Smoke complains for the nth time around the needles between his lips. Doubtfully, he holds up the patterned trousers and frowns at them, visibly dissatisfied. “They look too short, babe. They look like they’d fit me.”

Odd, isn’t it?, Mute thinks and bites his cheek until he trusts himself to reply without sounding highly entertained. “Those are definitely the correct measurements, I’m sure.”

“I bet you’re bloody grateful I can sew or else you’d still be watching Youtube tutorials.”

“I’m glad your mum made you fix the clothes you ripped on the daily, yes. Teaches you about the value of your time.”

“Teaches me not to buy expensive garb, more like. How’s your unicorn coming along?”

Mute takes a moment to inspect his work. After airbrushing one of Tachanka's helmets a lovely shade of pink, he started to add a few more personal touches he expects the Russian to enjoy: a pair of bear ears which Bandit owned – and no, Mute didn’t ask for details –, an actual unicorn horn he improvised out of a few available materials plus a mane made from faux fur which Frost generously donated once she caught wind of their project. He’s currently gluing letters onto the monstrosity since the rainbow he added for good measure has dried already. All in all, it’s solid work and he’s happy with it. If this doesn’t make Tachanka's teammates question some of what they thought they knew about him, then nothing will.

“See, I get why we’re making two of these abominations, babe, even if you haven’t told me the reason outright”, Smoke murmurs more to himself than directed at Mute, “but why three? Did anyone else want one? Are we gifting one to Dom? You know he’d wear it, especially with this sexy leopard print. Christ, we’re not giving the old man the leopard, are we? Because I’m sure he’d say something like ‘I have the underwear to match it’ and thank you, now we’ll need some brain bleach.”

“He’s not the only one I know who’d have matching knickers”, Mute states drily. “And Dom isn’t the only one I know who’d wear this.”

Smoke stops messing with the hem and throws him a deeply distrustful look. “Babe. Are you serious?”

“I have the perfect ears to go with it too.”

His quiet statement makes his lover’s brows rise. “They’re for me, aren’t they.” It’s not a question and so Mute doesn’t answer. “Really though – are you taking the piss or does the thought of me wearing this stuff actually turn you on?” Mute steadfastly refuses to respond and instead focuses on lining up the letters playfully. Maybe he could add glitter, yes, in any case he needs to not think about Smoke in a leopard print uniform, absolutely not squirming on his lap, the rappel harness flattering his thighs and soft mewls -

The rustling of clothes catches his attention and when he looks up, Smoke is half naked already. “What are you doing?”

“Trying it on, what does it look like? You want me to wear this, so I will.” He pulls on the finished pieces of his uniform and poses only partly jokingly. His arse looks amazing and Mute forgets how breathing works for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and cop a feel because then they’ll never get it all done. “Bloody hell, this is tight.”

“Yeah”, Mute agrees distractedly and openly disregards the concept of eye contact entirely in favour of ogling other body parts, “like I said: definitely the correct measurements.”

Grinning, Smoke walks over to where he’s sitting and buries a hand in Mute’s hair to drag his head forward and smush his face into his exceedingly prominent bulge, ignoring the slight resistance and massaging Mute’s scalp once he’s started mouthing at the growing erection rubbing against his cheek. “Why don’t you get the ears, babe?”, Smoke hums and seems not at all perturbed by his unusual attire.

A few days later, Mute stands outside of Blackbeard's room, taking a deep breath and checking the time again. The American’s daily schedule is rigid and thus he’s been asleep for more than an hour at this point, not at all disturbed by the commotion outside of the base. They invited everyone interested, distributed beverages and promised a show, meaning there’s a sizeable crowd outside waiting for the main event to happen – whatever it’s supposed to entail.

Tachanka's uniform garnered a lot of approval, and Mute was especially proud to hear almost everyone complimenting his admittedly fabulous helmet, but the real treat hasn’t even surfaced yet.

Once he deems himself ready, he barges into the room and starts shaking Blackbeard awake rudely. “Get up, Jenson, come on, we need you, there’s a situation.” He does his best to appear urgent, and to his credit, Blackbeard is up on his feet before he’s even processed anything that’s going on. “Hostage taken in London, we need to fly out ASAP, get dressed and let’s go!”

He left the door open to let just enough light in for the American to not crash into his furniture as he stumbles about the room, getting dressed and mumbling something incoherent. Mute leaves him no time to think, talking rapidly out of his arse and ushering him out of the room and down the corridor. Blearily, Blackbeard allows himself to be manhandled and merely responds with a few grunts, but once they’re outside and in the middle of the sizeable gathering, he realises that something is off.

Being greeted with cheers, Blackbeard looks around in confusion until his gaze lands on Tachanka toasting him with a can of beer. “The fuck are you wearing?”, he asks and eyes the unicorn helmet in disbelief.

“The fuck are you wearing?”, Tachanka shoots back good-naturedly.

Finally, Blackbeard looks down at himself. He’s clad entirely in pink, mirroring the Russian perfectly. “What”, he says helplessly.

“I told you it’d go with your hair.”

And while the two start bickering immediately, with Blackbeard pompously proclaiming his intent to undress this instant and Tachanka amusedly egging him on, much to the audience’s delight, Mute feels a tug on his sleeve, turns around and mutters a curse under his breath. “I told you not to wear this outside”, he hisses and tries his best not to glance down at Smoke’s dangerously tight trousers.

He’s wearing the full outfit sans mask, and the cat ears which allegedly pick up on brain activity and move accordingly are perked up in excitement. Smoke was amazed by them the first time he put them on and refused to take them off for an entire evening – and admittedly, Mute’s heart melted a little every time Smoke looked over at him and the ears shot up instantly.

Right now, however, his heart isn’t the body part most touched by Smoke’s appearance.

“I’ve been a naughty kitty”, Smoke purrs and begins wrapping himself around the taller man, “you should punish me.”

And while the whole thing in itself has nothing erotic about it, it achieves the desired effect nonetheless as Mute is overcome by the sudden urge to stuff Smoke’s mouth.

Before he can act on it though, Bandit appears by their side, ignoring Blackbeard's repeated insistences that while pink is apparently a feminine colour, there’s nothing wrong with femininity, it’s just not for him (and Tachanka merely lets him talk with a partly disbelieving, partly entertained smile). “Have you seen Gilles? I don’t know where he is.”

“He said something like ‘I have one of these’ when he saw Chanka and then disappeared”, Smoke informs him helpfully and receives a concerned frown. “No idea what he was on about but he seemed excited.”

“Well, he better not be -”

Bandit trails off in horror and neglects to shut his mouth, so Mute and Smoke follow his line of sight while most of the noise around them dies down as well. It quickly becomes clear why: Montagne’s standing in the doorway to the base, wearing – well. What is he wearing?

Only on the second glance does Mute discern the butterfly pattern, noticing that it even continues over his balaclava, harmonises well with the hot pink helmet and – are those feelers?

Montagne catches sight of Smoke’s attire and nods approvingly. “That’s… a choice”, he states. “Maybe a little too racy but I don’t dislike it.”

“What do you think is going on here?”, Bandit addresses him weakly and looks torn between wanting the ground to swallow him whole and wanting the ground to swallow Montagne.

Now the Frenchman seems to be questioning himself, expression turning sheepish. “Isn’t this… these aren’t designs for breast cancer awareness? I thought -”

“See! That would be the only acceptable occasion for a man to ever wear pink!”, Blackbeard tells Tachanka triumphantly while pointing almost accusingly at Montagne, sparking yet another discussion now involving most of the people present.

“Does it look bad?”, Montagne wants to know sadly and only cheers up once Bandit has walked over to reassure him and started to play with his antennae – Mute can only imagine the amount of willpower it takes for Bandit not to make a thousand inappropriate and/or sarcastic jokes at once.

Not that he’s in a much better situation, seeing as Smoke is attempting to seductively meow in his direction. Sighing, he grabs Smoke’s wrist and drags him along. “You look hot but please never pretend to be a cat again. Promise me, James.”

“If I do, am I allowed to wear this on a mission?”

Smoke’s bright smile is going to be his doom one day, he knows this. He predicts quite a lot of arguing about the use of this particular outfit but can’t really say that he minds, not when they do most of their fighting in bed.

And maybe he’ll tell Smoke to put the mask on this time as well.

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #tachanka #blackbeard #fanfic #oneshot #okay look I don't genuinely think mute has a thing for animals #don't @ me please #also these ears exist and they're adorable

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 6 years ago

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Shield Hero 20

Motoyasu getting dragged by Filo was funny…not enough to get a proper laugh though. Just a smirk or two.

Stop narrating and just get on with it, Naofumi and friends…!

“I was saying we should fight together all along.” (from Itsuki) – Were you, now…? (skeptical)

Ass-pull! I call “ass-pull” at the power to swallow the phoenix flame! Seriously, when did the dragon get the opportunity to teach Naofumi how to do that???

How did Naofumi not die after losing so much blood…?

What does the Q even stand for in the queen’s name…?

Sarazanmai 7

The seagulls…so fluffy…

For some reason, I expect a fakeout, but then it never arrives…these boys are really connecting…

I found some kappa croquette thingy online, but it referred to a “Shiki City” which probably isn’t in Asakusa…

The shirt…Kazuki’s shirt says “frog” but I get the feeling it also means “return”.

Shirohasu water. It’s Irohasu in Japan.

Was the lyric to Kawausoiya (the otter song) “gonna take ‘em”…?

Nice ET reference, Sara.

Balls…not just sport entendre, but…y’know. The sort of humour I don’t like as much.

Ooh…Keppi is shaping up to be the bad guy. But what plans does he have? Am I speculating too much and is he being framed? Hard to know until next time…

BSD 32

When Kyouka is eating the sundae, she looks like the Tofu Kyouka from Mayoi…hmm.

Can I confess something? Before I saw the illustrations for s2, I thought Louisa’s hair was much darker than what it is in the anime…hmmm, indeed.

I don’t think we were ever told (in the manga or the anime) what Louisa’s wish was…

This bit with Fyodor…I don’t think it was in the manga.

Subarashi-sou is a pun on “it seems wonderful”. That wasn’t in the manga, but it’s a great pun (because it’s right up my alley).

Fitz laughing at the neighbour’s TV wasn’t in the manga either, but that’s just the anime director’s humour peeking through.

“Blalack Daniel’s”, LOL.

Ohh…a quick Google reveals TJ Eckleberg is from the Great Gatsby. In there, he’s an eye doctor, but here, he’s an engineer.

George B Wilson is also from the Great Gatsby…Here be spoilers, but…George dies in his original work too.

Manhasset is a place in New York…I assume it’s connected to the Great Gatsby as well…

Oh yeah! Random Poe moment. That’s in the manga, so Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for the terrible humour) doesn’t have to fake that bit.

Cue “Objection!” by Fitz, lemme guess. Even if I know the outcome and how it was done, I’d like to have my memory refreshed (by stabbing in the dark…and making an Ace Attorney joke in the process).

I already know, without googling, that Tom Buchanan is part of Great Gatsby as well…

Bank of Amerigo…LOL.

Fruits Basket 8

“If you show up for the banquet now…”

“The banquet sounds just like the folk tale!” Honestly, subbers, proofread…

Haa-kun and Haa-san. No distinguishing between them (aside from honorifics), even though they’re two completely different people.

Hatori’s squinty face was…hilarious, to put it simply.

Oh…I forgot the dance seems to be something the animal of the year does. So if Yuki was 3 years ago, it makes sense Momiji is doing it this year.

Best seat in the house for a sunrise, huh?

Kimetsu no Yaiba 8

I’ve seen Muzan being described as “Demon Michael Jackson” and now I can’t get that out of my head when I see him…sorry.

Tsukihiko, huh? It translates to “moon’s radiance” or something like that. That name is appropriate for a bad guy, isn’t it?

This is the first time I’ve really listened to the OST (aside from the OP and ED), so it’s…really something.

Ooh, I didn’t realise until now, but Ufotable even imitated the paper Jump is printed on with the next-ep previews…

OPM 2 8 (OPM 20)

Er…I haven’t mentioned it for the past few episodes, but Suiryu is hotttttttt. (No? I said that? Okay, next step.) That’s basically the only reason why I’m watching anymore…I can’t seem to find anyone who thinks positively of this tournament arc enough to do reviews of it that I can read, which has made my own opinion of this beloved series go down the drain…Also, if you weren’t aware, my taste lies not in Suiryu’s huge bulk, but rather in the fact he’s got long hair.

Didn’t Suiryu get pierced in the abs??? Where’s the blood coming from his injuries??? Update: He does have injuries there, they’re just not bloody…that’s all.

The main criticism for OPM 2 is the fact that it keeps cutting between different events, so it’s hard to follow. Well, I’ve had worse (see Concrete Revolutio) so that’s why I’m still here.

People say that clothing changes you – say if you put on a new outfit, you feel like a new person. (Of course, that’s all glamorising and praising consumption, but that’s beside the point here.) I think that’s what’s up with Max and Snek.

Shield Hero 21

“…the Shield Hero is worshipped.”

Really? Boob jiggle, at a time like this??? (Context: Malty is getting th slave crest painted on her.)

Wait, was there ever a Shield Church???

Okay, that felt like a real seasonal ending. What the heck is going to happen in the last few episodes, I wonder…?

Sarazanmai 8

Chikai knows the real meaning of YOLO…heh. I’m only kidding…

To be honest, I think I like Toi best out of the main trio. I tend to like the boys in blue…and no, I don’t mean the otter police.

Kazuki’s service provider is “Kappa Phone”, LOL.

When Reo held up the gun, I was yelling, “Enta! Get it for him!” (i.e. take the bullet) I didn’t expect him to actually do it…

…and here I thought tragic yuri was common enough and we don’t have enough Tragic Yaoi Dudes…

Notably, Toi was registered on Enta’s phone as “Kuji”, while Kazuki is registered as “Kazuki” (katakana) on Toi’s.

Shots fired…!

Update: I didn’t notice this, but the evil dude with kamome written behind him (I think it’s in this episode, but it might have been in the last one instead) must be based on a seagull…because that’s what kamome means.

Bungou Stray Dogs 33 (BSD S3 Ep 8)

I think it was around here I stopped reading the scans, because the series was picked up legally anyway…but I can see the death flags for a certain Port Mafia man…one who stands at the top.

As expected…butt shot. Igarashi (or whoever’s responsible for that shot) likes butts, so between this and Sarazanmai…*imagines image of kappa!Kazuki holding a shirikodama* There’s absolutely no buts about it (LOL), there’s no shortage of butts this season.

“To think that the rabbit being hunted would show its face…” – I think it’s hard for you to say that, Akutagawa, when you yourself have no face in that frame…

Why are both Akutagawa and Fyodor Naruto running today???

“So you’re doing this for that woman.”

What is “Mukurotoride”? I don’t seem to remember…maybe I never learnt what it was. Update: Apparently a tower in Dead Apple is called Mukurotoride.

Conspiracy time! This book sounds like Kunikida’s Ability…so imagine if it were under Dazai’s nose the entire time…

Fruits Basket 9

I love how the synopsis for this episode goes, “Kyo fights Yuki, Yuki fights a cold…”

Hatsuharu’s wearing such an ostentatious fluffy jacket…LOL, I love it.

Holy cow (LOL), I forgot how old Hatsuharu is…so that means he’s 15-ish, right?

Come to think of it…I see Fruits Basket characters in Ro Te O, which I started writing at about this time in 2013. The Azrael of that time was a hybrid of Hatsuharu, Ritsu and Ayame, Tetsuya is basically Yuki and Ryou is Kyou…hmm.

Apparently, Shigure had in the 2001 anime a song that went like, “High school girls, high school girls, cute high school girls for me.” So that’s where it was??? (Context: I haven’t seen Fruits Basket 2001, but read the entire manga.)

Kimetsu no Yaiba 9

Recap time, recap time…so the lady’s in the back room and Tanjiro conveniently forgets the man is in the basement…? Wuh?

Moya was complaining about how repetitive this show can get when it comes to the script (i.e. it repeats itself because it doesn’t trust its audience, but I think that’s because this is originally serialised on TV week by week that people may forget if they’re not bingeing, taking notes or following the manga). I’ll talk more about that in my KnY collab post, I guess…

When Yushiro said “watch your back”…he really meant it, huh?

Temari are the balls, but kemari is when you kick the balls.

“…the eyeballs on his hands are creepy.” – LOL.

Shield Hero 22

The ep title just says “Hero Council”…not specifically that there are 4 of them.

My stream’s been buffering more than usual, so I went “like mother, like daughter” before Naofumi did…

It would’ve ben massively funny to hear Melty call Malty either “Trash” or “B****”…especially the last one, because that’s always a fun way to end a sentence (especially for a girl as young as her). Update: She does, but the way she does it isn’t as funny as I thought it would be (and she doesn’t end her sentence with her sister’s new name).

Wait, I thought they got rid of her slave pact??? I thought it was only for the duration of her trial that she needed it for.

L’Arc and that lady seem like they’re foreshadowing for later…hmm. Update: The next-episode synopsis says “yes”. So does that new visual.

Sarazanmai 9

I can’t believe this show’s almost over…That means I gotta get a move on with RobiHachi, but to be honest? Non-anime things are probably going to kep me busy until…a few days from now. So I’ll get RobiHachi watched then.

Characetrs are dying en masse in this episode, aren’t they??? I saw a spoiler that (well, SPOILER) Chikai’s gonna die, but I don’t know about Enta or Keppi…Update: To be honest, I thought Chikai was going to become the next monster – a gun monster, perhaps. Maybe now that I’ve finished the episode, he’ll become a real zombie. (Hey, see what I did there with the bolding…? How’s that for hiding spoilers, eh???)

Oh yeah…I forgot Enta’s sister was Kazuki’s teacher…

There was a sign behind Masa that said”Hinode Asakusa” – “hi no de” meaning roughly “under the sun” or “leaving the sun”.

Tokarev…? The gun? Gun monster, maybe? Is this a critique of the American gun…(exaggerated voice) Nah, can’t be…this is Japanese.

Lionel…Lionel…for some reason, that name in relation to soccer seems familiar...I just can’t put my finger on who it reminds me of, though. Update: Is it, perhaps, Messi…? Yes, I think that’s the guy I was thinking of…!

Aw…I’m not crying, you are…But these words were running through my head before Toi chucked the bag of money away and yelled, “F***!”: “Everything I do, I do it for you.” Isn’t that cute…?

Bungou Stray Dogs 34

“…one by one?” Junban means “sequentially”, so I don’t see why you have to use the phrase “one by one”. Or “one at a time” would also work.

Hardbank…to contrast Softbank (a phone company in Japan).

Face-stealing aliens strike again…(re: Atsushi)

Oh flip. This reminds me of my Kunikida fic…yeah, I bet you don’t remember it.

Hey, this dude! Apparently he’s from one of Kunikida’s stories. I really am approaching the end of what I know of canon…*gulp* Update: Oops, we already passed that part…

I wonder if the real Fyodor could play cello…? Or is this just a thing to make him ominous and villanous…?

The cross on the wall behind Kunikida…makes this show more like Eva than Kekkai Sensen…exquisite. Absolutely exquisite, isn’t it?

Another cool cross, behind Tanizaki!

What’s a tatamigatana? Also, I didn’t know other people could be synchronised using Doppo Poet and Ranpo’s deduction…

Does Kouyou mean (by “the one I most despise”)…Chuuya? Or herself? It’s definitely not Ace.

Kimetsu no Yaiba 10

Headpats for Yushiro as well! Headpats for everyone!

There’s a lot of Tanjiro being terrified in this episode…

Wait…Kizuki? I thought they were the 12 Moons? (Well, “tsuki” means “moon”, but then what’s the “ki”?) Update: The “ki” means “demon”, so the Kizuki are the 12 Demon Moons.

Being alone with the body…that’s always a scary thought in murder mysteries…for the people who dissect them to determine the cause of death, that is.

Considering the name of the episode is “Together Forever”…nup, I don’t see Nezuko and Tanjiro separating anytime soon…

The Kasugai crow is what happens when you can’t turn off your Google Assistant…or GPS…or Siri.

If Tanjiro knows the name of his crow, how do the crows get their names? Do their trainers (is that the right term for a crow breeder in this case…?) give them names?

OPM S2 Ep 9 (Ep 21)

LOL, that one shot of the ants…JC Staff really don’t care about this series, do they…?

I kinda forgot about Genos after a bit more than a week…sorry, I was watching other anime in between. (More than usual, at least. I started playing Chibi Tamago – a forum game for AniList where you collect badges for watching anime - that’s why.)

Did he (Pri-Pri Prisoner)…store his phone in his butt…?

#simulcast commentary #Bungou Stray Dogs #one punch man #Sarazanmai #Fruits Basket #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #the rising of the shield hero #Chesarka watches Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari #Chesarka watches BSD #Chesarka watches OPM #Chesarka watches Sarazanmai #Chesarka watches KnY #Chesarka watches Furuba #Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari

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lmfmp2021 · 4 years ago

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Developing And Improving My Origami Packaging

Now that I have critically reflected on my origami packaging at this point in time, I will now be making all these changes that I previously said about and picked up on. To start, I have firstly focused on the back on the design, to which I had added in a barcode and the weight too. I didn't mention this in my previous post as I only just remembered that I needed to add this on for it to become a real product. I did this by simply coping and pasting them from the previous jar labels. I decided to place these in either of the bottom corners as I thought that they wouldn't interfere with the flaps when they fold in. When looking at the back section, I have also changed the orange circle so that its no longer transparent. I have turned the opacity back up to 100%, to which I think this looks a lot more tidier as there wasn't really any need for it to match the jars this closely.

Additionally, the other thing I forgot to mention in the previous post is that the flaps covered up my little icon saying that there's no palm oil in them. This was simply because I forgot that it was there as it was completely covered up. Although, I thought that if I place it on the top left corner flap then this would clearly show this way.

Next, I decided to change the text at the front so that it would actually show the whole phrase this time. While doing this, I chose to slightly adjust the phrase so that it said something different. Instead of it saying ‘A selection of chocolate spreads’, it now says ‘A variety of chocolate spreads’. There was tow reasons for this, one being that this new version as slightly shorter meaning I could fit it on better, but also as I think it just sounds a little better and less predicable. By this I mean that I feel like the word ‘selection’ is used quite a lot of foods, so I wanted a slightly different word that mean the same thing.

Another thing I have chosen to change is the logo, so I have placed in the multicoloured logo as I feel that this just works so much better for many reasons. I then changed the circle around this logo, to the dark brown colour as I feel this gives a strong contrast this way. The reason I was able to use this colour was because I got rid of the rectangle that was going through the logo and circle. This was because this didn't show at all once it was put together so it made no sense to keep it, apart from to match the jars, but the concepts between the two packaging's, doesn't have to be this unified. As well as this, I also got rid of the same rectangle on the back too again for the exact same reason.

After doing all of this, I then remembered that I had to decrease the size of the front and back circles so that they actually fit in, without the flaps covering them. This process was very simple as I just had to hold down ‘shift’ and ‘alt’ for it to size down in the centre.

The other thing I have changed since the last screenshot is I have decided to make the repeat pattern cover the whole of the sides. So instead of it just being on the sides, this way it can show on the flaps as well. I think this small adjustment will make a massive difference as it was slightly annoying before on the position that the pattern stopped. This way, it wont happen this time.

Here, it is now showing where I have thought of a way in which I can make the base of the packaging work, with the orange colour. I mentioned in my previous post that I feel if I use the orange colour in with the dark brown, it will work, although I wasn't too sure on how I wasn't going to resent the orange shade. However, I have thought of using my them of circles to my advance as drawing a circle to fit the whole base but still have the brown showing in places. So this is what I did, where I then felt to have the type written inside this shape. To do this, I needed to copy and paste the circle and then use the ‘type tool’ and click on the shape once it changes to a circle instead of a square. I could then write out my description. Now looking at this, I think this works so much better as it actually has some interest to draw yo in now. At the same time, it has also been kept quite simple. The only other thing I have been able to change is the fonts, to which I separated the two paragraphs by using ‘ Helvetica light oblique’ for the top section and just ‘Helvetica light’ on the second paragraph. From doing this, it has just helped to show a difference, without being too dramatic.

Below is showing the final result from making all these adjustments to my design. From looking at this, I think its been massively improved as everything just looks neater and more in place.

Now moving onto the interior of the design, I realised that I didn't reflect much on the this part, although just from printing it out, I already found one issue. This was that the printer cut off part of my design. This then lead to many problems, one being that the measurements of the packaging is now not 21cm x 21cm. But the worse problem is the fact that it hasn't cut the sides off equally, mainly that one side from the centre is one measurement the other is completely different. This is a problem that I don't think I can fix. Although, when I actually put the packaging together before, it wasn't too bad. I could see that the base of one side wasn't in the centre like it should be.

Another thing I have changed since last time, is the composition. So instead of having the question at the bottom I decided it would make much more sense having it at the top, which I know that I didn't want to do at first as this is quite boring. But when you think about it, everyone will read from top to bottom meaning that they will read ‘no palm’ first, then the information and lastly the title. Whereas the title is what you ned to read first.

As well as this, I edited the logo so that it matches with the exterior now. I have changed the circle so that its showing the quarters with each colour being different.

The last adjustment I made was to get rid of the text saying ‘unfold to reveal more’ as like I said before, this seemed very tacky to me. I have then replaced this with an orange circle that is going around the logo. I have drawn the circle so that its fits the base again, as this will then match the other side, where the type is and this same colour theme.

As a result, I have now finally come to a point where I’m very happy with this design, layout and colours. So now, this means I will need to print out my final design onto some more thicker paper as this will then give the final product a more luxury feel. After that I think I will add the same green coloured ribbon that I found when creating my initial origami packaging. This is because green will match with the colour from my repeat pattern and should hopefully compliment with the other colours too. The other colour I could use is white as this would then match with the lids of the jars inside, although to me this shade is a little boring.

#development

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imgilmoregirl · 7 years ago

Text

AO3 Link

Notes: This chapter was revised by the amazing beastlycheese.

Oh, oh, we are so close to the end! I can't believe it. But we still have quite a few exciting chapters ahead.

Chapter Fifteen

The letter was shaking in Gold's trembling hands, the paper getting crumpled under his fingertips, a lump beginning to block his throat and making it difficult to breath. A couple of months ago, Baden had said that he had spent a great amount of time stuck waiting for his mother inside the car with Killian. His mother had gone to talk with a friend after saying a bunch of bad things about him and Lacey. He had absentmindedly given a quick thought to the building his son had described, but he thought it was too impossible that he was right, so he has just forgot about it. However, now he regretted not having prepared himself for this, because every single thing that mattered to him seemed just about to be lost.

He eyed the liquor he had served himself from earlier still intact in the glass, condensing and wetting the dark table as drops of water slid from it. Gold closed his eyes, tempted to rip the letter into tiny pieces and set it on fire, the sound of the door opening behind him not enough to free him from his hypnotic state. Her footsteps against the woodened floor where soft and slow, almost careful until she reached for him, sliding her hands down his chest.

"Hey, stupid, what is going on?" Lacey asked, casually.

Gold felt weak, just about to break down, but his anger was taking over him and he pulled her hands away, standing up and casting the letter aside, throwing it on his desk as he took his glass of whiskey, walking towards the fireplace, refusing to stare at her. He took a long burning sip, while Lacey glanced puzzled at him, waiting for her answer, but he still needed to get some courage to speak, so he breathed in and looked up at her.

"I'm being called to court, over Baden's guardianship," Adam confessed with a sigh.

The expression in Lacey's face changed, she looked in shock, her shoulders shrunk, she had a hand on her back and the other one palming her eight-month long pregnant belly.

"What?"

"Milah wants to fight for his full custody."

"But - " she blinked and he swore that he could see some unshed tears in her eyes, as if Lacey was fighting with a sudden need to cry. "But I thought she had given it to you after she ran away. Don't you have any document that assures that his guardianship is yours?"

Tightening his grip on the glass, Gold shook his head. And what a fool he was for not protecting himself against this. He should have known better, he should have at least wanted to do everything right legally but he couldn't imagine Milah would ever ask for that, because she never before showed any interest in having Baden around. God, she barely spent time with him these days.

"No, our agreement was never settled on paper," he explained, "and now she claims I took him from her and forbade most visits."

Lacey narrowed her eyes, looking no less threatening than she usually would wearing a pink printed maternity dress that had been a gift from her assistant in the library, a young girl called Jasmine. But the anger was still there, shinning powerfully as she stepped forward.

"Wait, you made a whole contract to assure I would give you our daughter but you trusted bitch Milah's word about Baden?" She inquired furiously. "What is your fucking problem?"

Feeling his own mad hate over that situation burst, Gold threw his glass against the fireplace's wall making it break and causing the flames to lift up momentarily. Lacey jumped, startled by this unlikely behaviour.

"I'm an idiot," Adam cursed in a low voice.

"Whoa, hey, come sit and calm down," the girl by his side demanded, reaching to stroke his arm, but he shifted away from her touch.

It was like his vision was covered by red lenses and everything he could see was blurred by his rage. His chest was rising and falling quickly with the adrenaline running through his veins and telling him to do something, anything from stopping the inevitable from happening. Because he was a lawyer and he understood very well that judges always took the mother's side in a custody fight, unless they were facing a lawyer like him, and what a pity it was that he couldn't defend himself.

"She will take my boy, Lacey!" Gold yelled. "I do not expect you to understand my despair of course, as you care nothing about your own flesh and blood either, but I do care about my children."

Lacey gasped, a heartbroken look crossing her face as her chin trembled and her stubbornness weakened.

"You know how to be a complete bastard sometimes," she spitted out at him.

Then she moved to the door, casting a last glare full of pain to him before slamming it shut behind her. Snorting and knowing that he had really been a bastard to her, Gold followed he girl, but she had already grabbed her purse and was walking towards the hallway.

"Lacey, wait," he pleaded, "I'm sorry!"

However, she didn't look back, she just left.

Some hours later, Lacey found herself in the market street of town, walking beside Ruby with some plastic bags full of things she didn't actually need to buy. It had been quite a long time since she last went shopping, because between being bribed by Bunny and saving money for her move to Seattle, she hadn't much money left. Today however, she needed to take away her distress, so she got to use some of the money just for the joy of spending it.

"What a jerk!" Ruby exclaimed, with a narrowed brow.

"Yeah, I hate him today," Lacey snorted. "And most days too."

She caught a glance of herself reflected in the windows of a store and narrowed her nose at how ridiculous she looked with those clothes that Jasmine gave her. Unfortunately, they were the only ones she could manage to fit into lately, so if she didn't look like she was wearing her grandmother's dresses, then she would have to walk around completely naked.

"I thought you liked him," Ruby continued to speak, "usually."

"I - " Lacey shook her head. "I don't know how I feel anymore, Ruby, everything I know is that I don't want Milah to take Baden away from him. That boy is his whole world."

"Yeah," her friend agreed, knowing from Lacey's stories and her quick visits to the Golds' house, that this was true. "And soon your little girl will be too."

Biting down her lip, Lacey rearranged the bags in her arm as she stared at the big mound that was now her belly. She was feeling all weird these last few months, everything was uncomfortable, everything made her angry and the sensation of the baby moving inside her was simply so different that it made her want to laugh with joy at the tickles it caused her sometimes, but also made her want to cry on other occasions at how it felt painful when the child hit some wrong places.

Gold, appeared to be astonished all the time, full of excitement with the prospect of having another kid in his house, just like Bae was. But now, everything seemed unsure and poor little Baden might never get to meet his sister.

"I hate her," Lacey bounced, gaze fixed on the end of the street. "Milah, I mean."

Sighing her friend gripped her wrist, dragging Lacey to a shop by their left. "Come with me."

She hadn't realised what kind of store it was, until they were inside, which made her heart race a little, and a lump appear in her throat. The need to run away from there was too big and she felt like the store was closing around her, bringing all these things to her face and making her breathless, just like if she was having a claustrophobia attack.

"Ruby," Lacey said with difficulty, "what are we doing here?"

"I didn't see you buying a thing for baby Gold so, I'll do it," the other girl shrugged.

"There is a reason why I'm not buying anything, she is not mine!" Lacey yelled, freaking out. "Gold already has a whole nursery full of baby things for her. I didn't take a look at it, but I saw him working with some furniture inside there."

Some weeks ago, she had seen Adam carry two cans of paint inside the house and put them inside the room next to his. On the next day, when they arrived home, Mrs. Potts told him that the furniture he had ordered had arrived during the morning. They never talked about that, although she knew that he was clearly making room for his daughter, but as he didn't talk about it, Lacey just supposed that he just didn't want her to be involved.

Ruby picked up two tiny white dresses and showed them to her. "But I bet you can't help yourself and are imagining her in these beautiful little clothes right now."

"No, I'm not doing it," she said, folding her arms.

"Geez, Lacey," Ruby complained, "continue to sound like that and I'll have to agree with Gold when he says you care nothing about her."

Eyes narrowing, Lacey crossed the shop, going straight to the new-born section and picking out a small purple dress, that was just the most beautiful piece of clothing she saw inside that place. Yes, she would like to see her daughter in this, even if just for once.

"I'm buying this one," she told Ruby.

"But - " the other girl started, but Lacey interrupted her.

"I like the colour. I can picture a baby in it and even if I never get to set eyes on her, I'll give it to Gold and ask him to take a picture when she wears it, so I can use it as my lock-screen and when I look at it every day I can cry with regret. Is that what you and him and the whole wide world want to hear?"

Moving to the counter Lacey payed for the baby's clothes and took the plastic bag, leaving the shop with her best friend on her heels.

"I'm sorry, Lacie, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I don't want to get attached to her, is that so difficult to understand?" Lacey shout out, turning around so she could face her. "It is already killing me to think that today she is right here, nestled inside me and in just a couple of weeks she will be gone forever. But I will need to move on, Ruby, so please stop asking me if I care about my own daughter, because I do, more than I want to admit."

"Lacey - "

Shaking her head, she mumbled: "I have some work to do."

Letting some tears fall from her eyes, Lacey disappeared down the street, going to the library, where she could think a little, calming herself enough before she went back to Gold's house, because even if he deserved to be treated harshly, Baden didn't and she knew that, by the time she went back, Milah would have already dropped him off.

However, when she arrived the library, the course of her day changed completely, because laying there on the floor right in front of the door, was an envelope with a short, but clear threat. Bunny wanted her to pay a thousand dollars to him, immediately, or he would send his men after her.

In all the years Gold had known Cora Mills, he had never gone inside her office. He usually avoided that place and was very grateful that it was very far away from his own law firm, so he only met that despicable woman when they were at court at the same time. She was like one of those distant memories that only came to haunt him to remind Adam of how stupid he had been in the past.

After parking his car near the extremely showy building, Gold headed to the entryway to take the elevator to the twelfth floor. He landed in a black and red stylised office with a grumpy security man staring at him all the time. Adam didn't bother with this, he knew that he wasn't welcomed there at all, but for his son he would go to hell and come back any time he must. Stopping in front of the receptionist, he gave her a little smirk.

"I'm here to talk to Cora Mills, you can say it is Gold."

"Oh," the blonde girl muttered, "she told me that you'd come soon. My name is Anastasia, please, follow me."

Standing up, the girl led him through the hallway and indicated the door he should enter, before leaving without another word. Gold didn't hesitate, he grabbed the knob and swung the door open stepping in to find his ex, typing something on her laptop.

"Acting behind my back again, huh, Cora?"

"Uh, I was expecting your visit," she said, lifting her head to look up at him with a bright evil smile, gesticulating to the stuffed red armchair in front of her desk. "Sit down, please."

"I'm fine right where I am," Gold remarked.

Closing the lid of the laptop, Cora picked a pen that was by its side and started to turn it around her fingers as she stared at Gold with that glow of victory in her eyes.

"So, if you are here to discuss the letter I sent you we'd better start putting all our cards on the table," she smirked, moving her chair so she was facing him from the same angle. "Milah wants to claim Baden's guardianship for herself and move to Ireland."

"You already made that very clear, dearie. I'm mostly interested in the other cards on this table," he replied slowly. "Explain to me, why."

"The girl you're keeping in your house, Lacey French," Cora said with a flourish of her hand. "So, this is what Milah is proposing; if the girl disappears, no one goes to court and she will leave you in peace."

He should have seen that one coming, he should have known. Milah may not want him, but she also didn't want to see him happy, for some twisted reason all she ever wished for was him to be sad and miserable. She had warned him right from the very start, when she first saw Lacey in his house, but he never thought that Milah might take her threats forward.

"That girl," Gold said, stepping forward, jaw clenched and voice frightening, "is carrying a child of mine."

"You can lose a child you never got to meet or the boy you already love so much, it's your choice," Cora answered with a shrug.

He blinked with disbelief.

"You're asking me to choose between my children?" Adam gasped. "You really have no heart, right dearie?"

Cora leaned back against her chair, making herself comfortable while his whole body started to shake with rage.

"If you fight, I'll make sure that Milah gets what she wants."

"I'm not abandoning my child and throwing Lacey out of my house," Gold bounced, with conviction, "you can prepare yourself Cora, because I won't give up. Not on this."

He turned around opening the door again so he could leave that sick place as fast as he could, but Cora's voice held him in the corridor for a moment more.

"Good luck, Adam," she shouted behind his back. "you'll need it."

Lacey entered The Rabbit Hole like a summer storm. She was so furious that everybody could notice her distress as she aimed for the counter, looking for any sign of the freaking chubby owner that she so learned to hate. When she located him serving a girl, that just like her, eight months ago look lost and desperate, Lacey crossed the bar with swift steps, laying the envelope on the counter right in front of him.

"What is this?" She questioned, eyes narrowed in a threatening expression.

"Your father's recent debts," Bunny shrugged, looking up at her.

Shaking her head, Lacey tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but nothing seemed to help right now. She was having one of those bad, terrible days in which no matter what you do, everything will end just horribly and it just can't be stopped. In her hands were the bags with the things she had bought that afternoon with Ruby; she had no hurry to go back home to face Gold, because she knew that more heartbreak was yet to come. To complete the disaster, she had to end this, before she did something stupid like slapping Bunny's disgusting face.

"No one can waste a thousand dollars in drinks in less than two months!" Lacey insisted sceptically. "I paid the last three bills you sent, with the foolish hope that you'd leave me alone for once, but what a naïve girl I was. This is all about you getting easy money from me!"

"Well, let me explain things to you, Miss French, since you do not seem to be aware of anything," Bunny said in a sluggish tone, leaning against the counter, so his face was closer to hers. "Every single night your stupid father enters through this door, he sits here by this counter, drinks enough to gather some courage and then moves himself to the game tables in the back. He makes wagers he can not afford paying and loses them all."

"That's not true," she said, weakly.

But, God, as much as she wanted to deny it, Lacey needed to admit that this was some scenario in which she could easily picture her father in. He was lost, so damn lost that he was dragging her down with him.

"Oh, it is not?" The bar owner bounced with a laugh. "You have two options, lass, you pay up or we will go after him and then, after you. Gold will eventually pay me, if he ever wants to hold this baby you two have been waiting for."

Lacey swallowed. She was genuinely afraid, but she wasn’t going to show it to Bunny, so she held up her chin, being as impertinent and petulant as she dared.

"No," the girl answered, her voice sounding harsh and strong. "You won't play with my life anymore and you won't have any money from me nor from Gold, because I'll make sure I can get rid of this child, so you won't have anything to bargain with him."

Some weeks, Lacey thought, if she could hide from him for just some weeks then the child would arrive, she would give it to Gold and disappear from Storybrooke to never come back. Her life had just gotten more dangerous and Lacey just hoped she could make it right for her daughter, because once she was with Gold she would be protected and cared for, so she turned her back to Bunny, listening to him urging her to get very far away from there hearing just one last bit of advice come from him:

"I hope you're fast enough, Lacey, because I certainly am."

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mine #writing #golden lace #rumplestiltskin #belle french #lacey french #baelfire #neal cassidy #ao3 #fanfic

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omg-gy · 6 years ago

Photo

30/05/19

g.r.a.c.e to PRINT

Update: Focus Group (*see appendix) was a success. Results were positive. And, I’ve added a contact page at the end of my doc, (obviously with made up workshop address, email and phone details), just to make the feel more professional.

That’s it for my launch pack.

So, time for print. I decided to print at Print Quarter, as I was impressed by the large array of printing options.

Hopefully, it’s worth it, as it’s a hassle to get to. I will be collecting my book tomorrow, but you can see the format I’ve chosen, which will replace that cover with our logo and a spoiler alert at the back.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. g.r.a.c.e is all about sustainability, yet you're using metal?????????

Well, no. We are repurposing metal that was thrown away like we do with waste in our designing process.

We are also using 100% recycled paper.

The recycled paper bit is true. Obviously, the metal part isn’t. But, I thought it was a quirky detail that mirrored g.r.a.c.e.

Although I knew I wanted to print on recycled paper from the very beginning, the colour threw me off a bit, as the paper was more yellow rather than white, and it made the pictures look grainy (not in a bad way tho). However, I have to stick to what I support throughout my writing: environmental responsibility.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this project. It was definitely really eye-opening and challenging, as I immersed myself into a completely different side of fashion, developing skills like research, creative thinking and teamwork further, along the way: so that’s a bonus. And, after going to the taunting 3rd Year briefing, I feel that I am somewhat already equipped because of it, as I have had a good glimpse into the real world of brand building with this brief- which was definitely foreign to me till now.

I’ll let you know if I am pleased with how the pack turned out, when I pick it up later today, If you don’t hear back for me, that means everything is A-okay.

Update: Not really pleased with Print Quarter, as don’t think it was worth the hassel in the end- #1 they printed my cover upside down lol and so holes got punched both ways (eventhough in the end I did think it suited the quirky element of my brand) and #2 I caught a few pages being dirty (yes, I’m a perfectionist).

Also, I realised that I forgot to change the thickness of some writing, resulting to it being almost non-existent, unless placed under a microscope. Thankfully, it was not die-worthy text haha. But, it’s something I should add to my checklist for next year to ensure this doesn’t happen again.

Anyways, glad it’s done. I added my quirky details too with markers, as I never experimented with adding like marker in my book. Since I feel it fitted my brand, I wanted to try it out. I liked the result.

Not gonna lie, the highlight of my year was signing off my ethics clause (digitally too because I’m extra) and placing my books in the basket. :)))))))

On a closing note, thank you for keeping up with me throughout this journey.

BYE, SECOND YEAR.

Have a fabulous summer, whoever you are.

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writingthingsisdifficult · 8 years ago

Text

Shifting perspective

(Horrible title, I know. I suck at naming stuff.) I don’t know what this is. It came to be from my strong wish to have Norwegian swearing in one of my fics (don’t know why. Don’t ask.) Anyway, this is what grew; one OFC called Oline (nicknamed Oli), one pining Sam, and a bunch of asshole shapeshifters. Enjoy.

The translations are in brackets right after the Norwegian, so you don’t have to scroll so much, but most of the translations aren’t literal, partly because of my limited knowledge of the English language, and partly because I tried to make it flow.

For example: Faen is used a lot. It’s a common Norwegian curse word, and it’s quite versatile, kinda like fuck, but the meaning is of religious origin, not sexual. Faen is a shortened version of Fanden, which is another (old) name for the devil (or a demon, depending on where you’re from).

Please let me know what you think, but also keep in mind that English is not my first language.

My tag lists are open, if you want to be included (or if you want to be removed). Just drop me a line.

Word count: 7392 (sorry not sorry)

”Good morning!” Oline came waltzing into the kitchen like she owned the place, wearing a pair of black pyjama pants with cartoon puppies printed along the side, and a light blue t-shirt with a band name no one could determine, because the print was so faded.

Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she hadn’t put any make-up on, but still Sam’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide the fact that his body was more awake than his mind was.

She had been on and off hunting with them for almost four years, and lived in the bunker for one and a half of those, but her looks still took his breath away – even looking all dishevelled and tired. It was as if her skin glowed on its own, and her hair… well, Sam would’ve done pretty much anything to run his fingers through it. Quickly, so she wouldn’t catch him staring, he cast his eyes down and kept them focused on the bowl of cereal. “Mrn.”

She didn’t notice the slight breathiness to his voice – or if she did, she was polite enough to not comment on it. Sam smiled into his spoon. She was too nice. If Dean had been there, he would never have heard the end of it.

Daring a glance up, he caught her just as she reached for something on the top shelf; exposing a small line of skin along her hip and back. He could just make out the tips of the points on her anti-possession tattoo, and then decided that he didn’t trust himself enough, so he grabbed his notepad and jotted down a few words just to keep busy.

“Ready for the road?” Her voice sliced through the bubble he’d buried himself in.

“Huh?”

She laughed. “Still not awake, huh? I asked if you’re ready for the road.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” He smiled back at her. “Never seen anyone so eager for a shifter job before.”

Oline shrugged. “ They’re not all that common back home. And those that I did come across couldn’t hide their true identity completely. A tail here, patches of green skin there… Or maybe they were just bad at what they did. I don’t know.”

“Tail? Green skin? I don’t think that’s what we call shapeshifters over here?” Sam said, tilting his head and squinting. His earlier embarrassment was forgotten; always eager to learn about new monsters.

“Really? Ooh! Is that coffee?” She snatched his cup and gulped down half of it before he could even blink. “Yeah,” she said, inhaling the word. “Norwegian shapeshifters live underground, or inside the mountains. Most of them have green or blue skin, and at least the females have tails that resembles cows’ tails, but they change to look more human to lure unsuspecting victims to their deaths. They don’t do that here?”

“Wow, no. What we call shapeshifters are humanoid creatures that can take on the appearance and memories of any living person they decide to mimic. Some can even change into animals. We can kill them with silver through the heart. Or even decapitation.”

Oline tilted her head slightly and smiled upside down. “Huh. Interesting. Gotta read up on them before we get there. Everything is so different over here.” Tapping the side of the cup she’d hijacked, she thought for a second. “I’ve been here for what, four years, and still your country is so foreign. You don’t even have proper brown cheese.”

Getting himself a new cup, Sam blew a silent chuckle through his nose. “Technically, you’re the foreign one, you know.”

“You better have coffee in there!” Dean shuffled through the door, looking very much like he just woke up, and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this shit. Who decided we start this early?”

“You did,” both Sam and Oline replied, watching as Dean bumped into the counter with half closed eyes, both grateful that he offered some distraction from the disaster waiting to happen. Some times Sam could’ve sworn Oline looked at him like she wanted to eat him up – now that was an interesting thought, and then the next moment she seemed totally uninterested. To be honest it drove him mad, never knowing which way to interpret her language.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence. Sam continued to scribble on his note pad, Oline stared into the air, dreaming about an alternate reality where she had the guts to tell Sam how she felt with actual words he’d understand, and Dean slowly sipped his coffee, generally regretting his recent life choices.

“Road trip!” Oline suddenly called, getting to her feet and dumping her plate in the sink.

“How can you possibly be this cheerful so early?” Dean asked gruffly after he refilled his cup.

Oline waved her own cup around. “Because coffee,” she replied with a short giggle. “Og fordi han der er spesielt søt når håret stikker ut til alle kanter. [And because that one is incredibly cute when his hair is sticking out like that.]” She said it deliberately not looking at Sam, because her insides squirmed at the thought of him suddenly understanding her.

“Hey, no fair,” Sam protested. “We don’t speak Norwegian.”

She shrugged with a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Dean lukter som en geit, [Dean smells like a goat]” she teased in a sing-song voice, causing Sam to chuckle. “Men Sam lukter som epler og solskinn. [But Sam smells like apples and sunshine.]”

“Be nice!” Dean replied. “I may not understand the words, but I recognise a non-compliment when I hear one. Would you at least wash your dishes?”

Dancing towards the kitchen door, Oline shook her head. “Sorry, Dean. You know I love you.” She stuck her tongue out and leapt through the doorway. “Meet you by the car in an hour.”

Sam laughed to himself. “Dude.”

“What?”

“I think… she, uh…” He could barely get the words out, laughing so hard. “I think she called you a goat or something. I don’t see the lie, though,” he added, flicking some crumbs at his brother.

“Shut up! You’re… a goat.” There was a moment of silence. “Wait… you know Norwegian?”

Sam ducked his head, his ears turning crimson. “No. Just a couple of words. I’ve been trying to teach myself, but it’s is a friggin’ hard language to learn – I wanted to surprise her.”

Dean stared dumbfounded at him for a few seconds before a big grin cracked over his face. “You’re in love! Oh my god! You are!”

Hiding his face in his hands, Sam shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his own grin. “Shh! I’m… I’m not… shut up.” He got to his feet, grabbing his notebook, and left.

“Great. I live with a couple of slobs,” Dean muttered, grabbing the cereal bowl Sam had left on the table. “We gotta get a maid or something.”

“Good news,” Dean said with a shit-eating grin. “They only had one available room.” He dangled a single key in the air, getting scowls in return. Sam sent him a look that stated: “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t like it.”

Oline groaned. “At least tell me there’s three beds.”

Dean shook his head.

“A sofa? Or a… a chair?”

“Nope. Looks like we’re gonna have to share.”

She rolled her eyes and poked Dean in the chest, lowering her voice. “Du må ikke tro at jeg ikke har gjennomskuet deg! [Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing!]” And then after a brief pause she added: “Fucker!”

Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she snatched the key from his hand. “Hey, Sam, your brother is disgusting. Mind if I bunk with you?” It was an opportunity after all. She had to make the best of it.

“Sure,” Sam replied with an easy smile, following her inside with his own bag.

When Dean finally got inside, Oline had claimed the bed closest to the window, and she’d already spread her books and papers all over it, and sat cross-legged on the pillows with a pen in her mouth, scrolling down her laptop. Sam had taken his spot on the floor, with his back against the bed, also scrolling on his laptop, but more aware, alert. Like a watchdog. He looked up briefly as Dean closed the door, but seeing no threat, he ignored his brother as best he could.

How these two didn’t realise they belonged together was beyond Dean. He shook his head with a tiny scoff and dumped his duffel onto the other bed. “Got anything yet?”

“Nah. I’m thinking we gotta go government on this. There’s at least one witness who’s sane enough to interview.” Suddenly, Oline dropped her laptop, sending papers rustling to the floor. “Faen! [Shit!]” She breathed the word with her eyes scrunched shut and punched the mattress.

“What is it?” Sam asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” She looked at the Winchesters with utter despair in her eyes. “I forgot my duvet.”

“What?” Dean burst out laughing. “Damn, I thought you’d found something

She grabbed a fistful of the fabric covering the bed. “Your stupid, American motels only have blankets. I’m gonna die of hypothermia.”

She looked so heartbroken even Sam had to laugh. “Relax. It’s like 68 degrees outside.”

“Yeah, but my feet still get cold in the night. And my duvet is so soft,” she pouted, fiddling with her knitted socks.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said once he had dried his eyes. “Sam’s a virtual fire place. He’s gonna keep you warm. Aren’t you, Sammy?”

His brother’s eyes said “Don’t!” but he nodded to Oline. “I’m always hot. And I don’t mind you poking your cold toes on me.” He thought for a second, the stretched and flexed ever so slightly. “Can’t help you with the softness, though.”

“Dude! You’re gross!”

Oline tossed a pillow on Dean. “Hey, he’s no grosser than you. Thank you, Sam.” She smiled and hopped down from the bed. “I’m gonna change into my FBI gear.”

“Smooth,” Dean nodded appreciatively once the bathroom door closed.

“You set this up, didn’t you?” Sam growled through gritted teeth.

“Maybe…”

“Just… just stay out of this, okay? I really don’t want to screw up our friendship.”

“Well, maybe that’s just what you need to do,” Dean grinned and ducked just in time to avoid a second, zooming pillow.

It took two days of investigating and interviewing more or less willing people to figure out where the shapeshifters were hiding. There were four of them, and as far as Oline could see, the shifters were young and inexperienced, filled with new ideas and not too bright on how to pull it off. But still: shifters were dangerous no matter what, and the three of them went through the safety check behind the Impala.

“Silver knife?”

“Check.” Both Sam and Oline held up theirs.

“Shifter gankin’ bullets?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Wait, wait. What’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Dean resembled a big question mark.

“Yeah, dumbass. The plan. There’s four of them and three of us. We can’t just barge in like we normally do.” Oline winked at him, making Sam snort and turn away so Dean wouldn’t see him laugh.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You want a plan, børk børk?”

“Yeah. And the chef is Swedish, by the way.”

“Oh, Sor-ry! I didn’t mean to step on your toes. Not my fault that it’s practically impossible to see the difference.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Winchester. Else I’d have to kick your butt.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s how it is. And you know I could do it. Sure, you’re a bit stronger than me, but I’m almost as tall as you –“

“Yeah, and those years spent trudging through the snow,” Sam added with a wink, “means her endurance is high.”

Oline blushed. “Thanks, Sam. But I’m not too fond of the snow. I can’t ski to save my life. But I climbed a lot of trees when I was younger. And I’m faster than you.”

“Not likely,” Dean growled, crouching down to pounce on her.

She squealed and ran to hide behind Sam. “Save me!”

With her hands on Sam’s hips, he almost forgot how to breathe. “Alright you two. You can fight it out later. We’ve got a case here. Remember?”

“Sorry, boss,” Oline said in mock regret, turning to Dean. “Truce?”

“Truce. Let’s do this. And quietly.”

The moment they were inside, they split up. Dean took to the right, through the kitchen. Sam went left, heading for the living room, while Oline took the stairs, slowly sneaking along the wall.

She peered around the corner and spotted a shifter. He clearly hadn’t understood the danger yet, so she tip-toed up behind him, ready to stab him, but just as she raised her knife, he turned. Faster than she expected, he leapt to his feet and rushed past her, knocking her over in the process.

Another shifter appeared above her, and she kicked out, hitting him in the ankles. He landed crookedly on a chair, and it broke with a loud crash. It wasn’t enough to take out the shifter, of course, and a couple of seconds later he got to his feet and charged. But that was all it took for Oline to get ready, and with a massive exertion and a loud groan, the knife pierced through the ribs and into the creature’s heart.

The shifter fell heavily to the ground and Oline listened to the air rasp through the punctured lung to make sure she got him properly.

Sam managed to sneak up on the shapeshifter without being discovered, and swiftly and soundlessly drove his silver knife into the creature’s chest. Unfortunately the ruckus made by the dying shifter attracted another one, who hit Sam over the head, then ran away. He staggered back and forth, seeing double from the impact, but as soon as his vision normalised, Sam ran after him, raising his gun in defence.

The sound of Dean’s gun rang through the house, and Oline mentally counted the kills. Dean had one, she had one, and Sam probably had one going by the sound of it. One left, then, and this one had escaped downstairs, unless there was a secret doorway somewhere.

At the bottom of the stairs, she bumped into Dean. “One left,” they said simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Oline panted. “He got past me and ran downstairs before I could get him.”

“I’ll go,” Dean began, but she stopped him.

“No, I got this. He owes me the satisfaction of dying. Besides, Sam’s still there. Two of us: one of him. Piece of cake. Go get the shovels. “

“Anything to get some alone time with my brother, huh?” Dean replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dean! Don’t make me slap you. I’m more than capable of kicking your ass. I wasn’t kidding earlier.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down. Go help Sam or whatever. I’ll be back in a few.”

When Sam skidded through the doorway he came face to face with Oline, and lowered his gun. “We got them all?”

She grinned widely and took a few steps towards him, but just then he heard her yell “Duck!” somewhere behind him, before something shiny zoomed past him, lodging itself in Oline’s chest. She collapsed on the floor, lifeless and cold, and Sam cried out, dropping to his knees. He was interrupted by Oline’s arms around his shoulders.

“I’m me,” she said calmly. When he didn’t answer right away, she moved around him, pointed to the blood soaked pile of human remains on the floor and said “Shapeshifter!” then at herself and grinned: “Oli.”

His eyes narrowed, and he remained still.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out to him again. When he recoiled, she wanted to scream. To see him unsure and almost afraid of her hurt more than anything else she’d experienced since she came to the US, but she swallowed the grief, telling herself she would probably react the same way.

“It really is me. I promise.” She pulled the knife from the body on the floor, wiped it on her jeans, and ran the edge over her arm. The blood was dark red against her pale skin. “See? It’s me.”

Sam took a few moments to react, so Oline decided to try another approach. “Remember when we got drunk in Seattle and I kissed your eyelid better after you got in a fight with that douche. Over… over… what was it?”

“He insulted your accent,” Sam replied with a smile, neglecting to mention that a shapeshifter would’ve had access to her memories; he was satisfied that she was the Oline he knew. To be honest he just wanted to hold her close. “We laughed so much on the way back from the bar…” He could still feel her lips on his skin, and the memory woke the slumbering butterflies in his stomach.

“Heh, yeah. We must have looked like lunatics.” She thought back to that intensely intimate moment, and felt her ears burn. She’d managed to blame it on the alcohol, but she knew that was just an excuse.

Taking her outstretched hand, Sam pulled himself from the floor. “Come on. Let’s go help Dean.”

“He’s gone to get the shovels,” Oline grinned. “We’re done here.”

He marvelled how quickly she could change; from gentle and caring one moment to bubbly and cheerful the next. And now he had that eyelid kiss stuck in the front of his brain. He wondered if it was possible to love someone more than he did Oline. He doubted it, but still he said nothing.

She let go of Sam’s hand the moment they were outside. More than anything she wanted to keep him close, but with the recently surfaced memory from Seattle, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t say or do something stupid. There was no way Sam felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk heartbreak.

When she let go of his hand, Sam breathed out slowly, both in relief and disappointment. The electricity and heat spreading from her hand made him dizzy, but it felt good. And the lack of contact made him feel cold, but it made it easier not to do or say anything stupid.

They buried the bodies in shallow graves in the field behind the house, salting them for good measure. It was starting to get dark when Dean dropped the last shovel of dirt onto the very last grave, patting it a couple of extra times before kicking a layer of grass and sticks and leaves over it.

“Whooo!” Oline yelled and pumped her fist in the air, making Dean jump in surprise. “Who’s awesome? Oh yes, we are!”

Sam couldn’t help but smile too: her enthusiasm and joy was contagious.

“Damn straight we are,” Dean replied, and they high-fived, causing Sam to groan loudly.

“Really, how old are you?”

“Aw, Sam, you jealous?” she pouted, offering her hand up. “Come on then, don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been told it’s rude.”

“Fine.” He slapped her hand, and she laughed, mostly to drown the squeal that built in her throat every time they touched.

Her laughter rippled through Sam’s body like waves of pure sunlight, and he suspected he could probably live on that feeling alone for the rest of his days. To mask his urge to pull her into a bone-crushing hug, he grumbled a little extra, muttering about acting like teenagers, before throwing the shovel over his shoulder and setting course for the Impala.

“Hey, gimme a break. I never had an American childhood. This is all still pretty new and shiny to me. We typically never touch each other back home. Let me have my moments of physical contact?” She wiped sweat and dirt from her face before following Sam. “We are the champions,” she sang, high-fiving Dean again on her way past him. “Gotta celebrate this. What do you say, huh? The three of us and a pile of beer bottles?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean grinned. “Remind me why I haven’t married you yet?”

She faked a gag. “Um, because that would be gross and considered wildly inappropriate, Winchester. You’re not my type.”

Dean laughed loudly. “Oh yeah, there’s that.”

Her eyes flicked over to Sam, and the short gesture wasn’t lost on Dean, but he said nothing this time: he’d tried to push her before, and that nearly ended with a black eye, so he kept to light teasing and inside jokes now and then.

Sam, however, was completely oblivious to the look he’d just received – lost in his own thoughts.

“You in, Sammy?” Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Beer, burgers, babes… Celebrate our success. Come on, bro. Have a little fun. Even you can’t be boring all the time.”

“Yeah, I’m up for a few beers,” Sam said eventually. “But I’d like to wash off this gunk, though.” He wiped the blood from his hands on his jeans.

“Oh yeah,” Oline nodded enthusiastically. “Shower. Definitely.”

The bathroom door opened, and Sam emerged like he was in a cheesy rom-com. Steam billowed around him, and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans.

Oline stopped mid-scrolling. Her brain lost all function, she lost the ability to speak; she just stared with her hand hovering over the mouse pad on her laptop.

When her brain regained consciousness, she quickly averted her eyes and swore silently. “Faen. Skulle tro du gjorde det med vilje. Hvis du fortsetter sånn, kommer jeg til å selvantenne – eller drukne! [Fuck. I could almost think you’re doing it on purpose. If you continue like that I’ll spontaneously combust – or drown!]”

“What was that? He looked up, still with the towel in his hand.

“Uh… nothing,” she lied quickly, rubbing the embarrassment from the back of her neck. “Hope you left some hot water for me.”

They found a table close to the exit and plopped down on the chairs, ignoring their slight stickiness. And after the first sip of beer, Oline sighed happily. “Nothing like a good beer after a hunt,” she smiled, gazing around the crowded room to hide her frequent looks in Sam’s direction.

“Never met anyone who enjoys her beer more than you,” Dean grinned, clinking his bottle against hers.

“Well, how can I not? I mean, beer is so cheap here. It’s like… $4 for a bottle? It’s crazy! Back home you’re lucky if you find one under $10.”

“I’m drinking to that.” Lifting his bottle, Dean toasted the air. “Hey, you never said why you left. Don’t you ever miss home?”

She nodded and smiled sadly into her glass. “I do. But I can never go back. I’ll tell you sometime. Another time. Let’s talk about something else?”

“Sorry.” Dean fell silent, and they all sat just listening to the music and sipping their drinks for a while.

But after a few minutes, Sam put his hand on Oline’s knee. “Hey, you okay?” He’d caught her sighing deeply. She nodded, blinking rapidly a couple of times, and he could have sworn he saw tears glittering in her eyes, but they disappeared so fast he wasn’t completely sure.

Her answer came as a whisper, and it hit him in the gut. “Yeah. I just miss my family. It hurts that I’ll never see them again.”

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knee. “When you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Sam. It means a lot.”

Dean looked up, studying Oline’s face, but said nothing.

After a long silence, she dragged her hand across her face and leaned back in her seat. “I first decided to leave when it became clear to me that I couldn’t stay without killing them – my parents, I mean,” she began. Hesitantly, fearing shock and judgement in the brothers’ faces.

Dean frowned slightly, but kept quiet: she could see the dozens of questions bubbling on his tongue, and how he swallowed them down. Sam’s gaze softened, and he squeezed her knee gently, giving her courage and strength to continue.

When they didn’t show any signs of wanting to run away, she grimaced what could have been an uncertain smile, and spoke again: “…six years ago I think it was, when my parents were bitten and changed. And they embraced their new lives with delight. Soon the small hunting community we were a part of demanded I’d take care of them. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it: even knowing the chaos and destruction they brought. I just couldn’t. My guess is they’re dead now anyway. I don’t know.”

She sighed and breathed out a short laugh. “Pathetic, I know. Running away from my responsibilities like that, but I… so I left. Got away. Travelled for a bit. Eventually I got on a plane and landed in Boston. Did a bit of sightseeing, but the hunter’s life never lets you go, yeah? Hunting new monsters over here became sort of a healing process, I guess. Then I ran into you guys. Best coincidence in my life.”

The three of them fell silent, before Oline spoke up again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to deflate the balloon like that. Let’s talk about something else. Like that woman over there,” she said after looking around the room searching for a topic. “She’s been ogling you since we got here, Dean.”

Picking up on her intentions right away, Dean sat up straighter. “Who?”

“The one over there with the bouncy, red curls. Don’t look now. I’ll let you know when…”

And so the next few hours flew by in a fog of discussing old and new conquests, women – and a few men, alcohol, music, and even more alcohol. Eventually Dean decided to go say hello to the redhead, bringing her over to the table, and making Oline and Sam uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Oline declared after a few minutes of being forced to watch Dean’s moves, standing up faster than she ought to, knocking over her chair. “You want anything, handsome?”

“No thanks,” Dean replied, quickly ducking from her hand swatting the back of his head.

She swayed slightly. “How ‘bout you, Sam? Another?”

He measured what was left in his glass and shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” Oline replied defiantly and made her way over to the bar.

Sam followed her with his eyes, memorising how she moved; still elegant, even now when she was drunk and had to use other people as support to not wobble too much.

“Dude!” Dean said, punching his brother in the arm.

“Ow! What?” Rubbing the forming bruise, Sam scowled back.

“That girl’s got it bad for you,” the redhead said, earning a nod and affirmative grunt from Dean.

“Shut up!” Sam looked back at Oline, who was talking to a guy at the bar. She was laughing and leaning close to him, and he recognised the look in the guy’s eyes: stars and dark lust – he’d hit jackpot.

Once again Sam failed to notice the longing look Oline gave him before she turned around and unleashed her smile on the gentleman next to her. But he did see the effect she had on the stranger. Within a minute of talking to him, he was completely under her spell. And it made Sam feel nauseous.

“I’m… gonna head back to the motel,” he muttered. “Don’t feel too good.”

Looking up from the woman sitting in his lap, Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Need me to come with you?”

Sam shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. “Nah. I’ll be fine. You have fun now.” He nodded once to the woman and left the bar.

When Oline turned back to look at Sam again, she was devastated to find him gone. Devastated, but not surprised. He was bound to find a lady to spend the night with – half the bar practically threw themselves at his feet when they entered, but it hurt nonetheless. She so wanted to be the one he took home.

It wasn’t until Dean slammed the bathroom door and shook his wet hair over him that Sam woke up. Flopping sleepily, he rolled over on the side and pulled the blanket over his face. Silence reigned for a few seconds before he warily emerged from his cocoon. “Ugh. What time is it?”

“Good morning, little brother.” Dean was positively beaming. “It’s…” He checked this watch. “6.15 – and I just got back! Oh man! You missed out last night. Daisy, you remember Daisy? She had a friend, and since you weren’t there, I was feeling generous…”

And with that he launched into a monologue so filled with confidence and smugness that Sam couldn’t wait for Oline to finish in the shower so he could get away. He only hoped she left some hot… water… There was no water running and the door was cracked open.

“Hey, Dean?”

“…and let me tell you: she wasn’t shy. Oh no –“

“Dean. Did Oli –“

“Neither of them were, if you know what I mean –“

“Dean! Will you shut up for a goddamned minute?” Sam almost yelled, causing Dean to smack his mouth shut with a betrayed look on his face. “Thank you. Did Oli leave to get breakfast?” Best to play it casual.

“Don’t think so,” Dean replied with a slight shrug. “Looks to me like she didn’t come back here last night. Her stuff is untouched.”

Sam sniffed her pillow, concealed as a yawn. It still smelled like the motel’s detergent. She definitely hadn’t slept there, but he patted it just to make sure. It was cold. “You’re right,” he muttered.

“Good for her. She needed a good lay. Not surprised she took off when she faced a night in bed with you.”

“Screw you!” Sam grabbed his phone. No messages. Good morning. Will you be long? Dean’s going to get breakfast. What’cha want? We’re rolling in a couple hours. He sent it more to calm the growing unease in his stomach, then got out of bed and into the shower, letting the running water massage his sore muscles.

The first thing he did when he got out was to check for a reply. Nothing. Hey, sleepyhead. Time to head north again. Still nothing. Oli? You OK?

“Dean, I don’t feel too good about this. Oli’s not answering my texts.”

“So she’s busy. I wouldn’t answer your clingy ass if I was in the middle of a good time either.” When Dean put a hand on his shoulder, Sam looked up: seeking some sort of comfort in his brother’s face. He got none. Instead, Dean asked: “I’m getting us something to eat. Want coffee?”

“Please. And a bagel.” Sam didn’t really feel hungry, but he needed some time to think.

Dean nodded. “And don’t worry about Oli. She’ll be fine.”

“Mhm.” Sam automatically glanced down on his phone, then flung it on the bed, picking up his laptop instead. Didn’t take long before he reached for his phone again. Still nothing. Sam sighed.

“Listen, if this bothers you so much, why don’t you talk to her? Tell her –“

“Yeah, alright, Dean. Thank you. Get out of here.” He had a point. But Sam just didn’t know how to begin. And the what ifs were piling high in his brain. This was not how he imagined it though. Sure, he’d been annoyed as hell when Dean conned them into sharing a bed, but it was an opportunity he just had to take. But now he realised he was too late. What if she had found someone? What if she decided to leave the life? He couldn’t blame her. Once he would’ve abandoned everything for a shot at a normal, boring life too.

When Dean came back thirty minutes later, Sam had worked himself so up he was convinced that Oline had already eloped to get married to some random dude. And it didn’t help that Dean thought it was hilarious.

“She’ll waltz in here in an hour, glowing and smiling shyly, and then we’ll carry on like usual.”

The hour came and went. Sam became more and more nervous. Even Dean was becoming a little antsy. “Maybe she just needs some alone time,” Dean said. “Remember when we first met her? I was convinced she didn’t like me, ‘cause she was so hard to get to know. Besides, Oline’s basically a Viking. She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a grimace. “But I still think it’s weird she hasn’t replied to my texts.”

Ping. Sam’s phone chimed happily, but he snatched it with force, staring at the message on the screen.

Dean grinned. “See? She probably just woke up a bit late.”

“No text,” Sam replied silently. “Only this.” He held out his phone. The message was just a link to a video. Nothing more.

Dean cocked his head. “Huh. What –“

Sam groaned. “What if she… what if she says she wants out? That she doesn’t want … I mean, she’s been gone since last night.”

“Come on,” Dean said with a reassuring smile. “Oli would never do that. She’s probably just, I don’t know, lost track of time or something. It happens,” he added with a grin.

Not the answer Sam wanted, and he glared at his brother. “Not helping.”

“Just doing my duty. Let’s see what she has to say before you panic, okay?” He grabbed the phone and opened the link.

The video was dark at first. They could barely make out a dark figure in the middle of the shot, but nothing else. Occasionally shadows flitted across the screen and they heard soft feet pitter-pattering over concrete floor. Somewhere out of the shot they heard running water.

“What the hell?” Dean began, but Sam interrupted him.

“Shhh! Something’s happening.” His stomach felt like he’d swallowed a rock.

Suddenly the light was switched on, and Sam felt like throwing up. If Dean hadn’t been holding the phone too he would’ve dropped it: the dark figure was Y/N. Slumped over in a chair, she looked bruised and beaten, and her jeans were stained dark red.

“Wakey wakey,” a coarse voice said from behind the camera.

Oline groaned and stirred, slowly lifting her head, to reveal a swollen, bloody face, and a split lip.

“Oli,” Sam breathed, gripping the blanked he was sitting on tightly. Dean growled in agreement.

It took a few minutes before she regained full consciousness, blinking and swallowing; wincing when her skin stretched and moved. Then, as if the floodgates had opened, she started yelling. Her voice was raw and somewhat diminished, but her meaning was clear enough. “I helvete?! Hva faen er det dere driver med? Kom her din jævla feige kukskalle, så skal jeg faen steike meg sparke deg så hardt i ballene at du kjenner smaken av dem i halsen! Din forbannade forpulte pikk! Slipp meg løs for faen! Jeg skal faen meg gi deg deng, din helsikes forbannade demonjævel! [What the hell? What the fuck are you doing? Come here you fucking cowardly dickhead; I’ll fucking kick you so hard in the nuts you’ll taste them in your throat. You damned, fucking cock! Let me fucking go! I’ll fucking kick your ass, you goddamn fucking demon bastard!]”

She continued to yell, both while exhaling and inhaling, making Sam’s mouth twitch. At least she still had her wits. But the fuckers were gonna pay for what they’d done. He looked over at Dean who just stared at the screen. Sonofabitch!

“Wow. Didn’t expect such language from a lady.”

Both men whipped around, drawing their guns in fluid motions, but when they realised the intruder was a minor threat, they relaxed somewhat.

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” Sam asked, slouching back on the bed.

“I’ve missed you too,” Crowley replied with an air kiss. “Can’t a King check on his favourite nightmare subjects?”

Sam scoffed. “We’re not your… argh! Forget it!” He grabbed his phone and leaned on the headboard, flicking the phone back and forth between his hands.

“I’m not too proud to admit it: Hell bores me. So I came up to see if you had something exciting going on. What’s up with Samantha? I haven’t had a welcome this icy since I came for Prince Albert. Victoria could be quite stern when she wanted to. Makes me feel all sorts of nostalgic.”

Dean clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oli’s been kidnapped.”

“Ah,” Crowley nodded, “that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Sam’s dread – seriously, the stench fills the whole room – and Oline’s colourful phrasing. She got quite the razor tongue when she’s pissed.”

“Wait, you understand this?” Sam gestured with the phone.

“I’m the king of Hell, you moron. It’s in my job description. Wouldn’t be much of a King if all it took was a foreign language to keep secrets from me. Now what did I miss?” He held out his hand and Sam handed him the phone.

With the video playing in the background, Crowley started translating. “Well, they certainly aren’t my demons. In fact I rather think they’re something else entirely.” He tossed the phone on the bed, where it bounced a couple of times before settling. “I think I’ve seen enough. Shall we?”

“Shall we, what?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Go rescue the damsel in distress, of course. Get her safely home so Sam can go back to pining after her. Really! How thick are you?”

Squinting, Sam got to his feet. “You’re just gonna help us like that? Out of the kindness of your heart?”

“I’m nice like that,” Crowley smirked. “All I want in return –“ He paused dramatically to think, “– is your undying gratitude and a couple of favours to cash in when –“ Sam looked like he was ready to launch himself at the demon. “Alright, I’ll help you for a bottle of whisky; the good stuff, not that gut-rot you usually poison yourself with.”

“Done,” Sam said quickly.

“…and you have to address me as Your Majesty until we get her.”

“Eat shit, Crowley!” Dean spat, looking like someone had suggested painting his beloved Impala neon pink. “You… that’s… you...”

“Appappapp! What are you forgetting?”

Sam looked at Dean, and they both pursed their lips. “It’s a deal,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

“It’s a deal…?”

“Ugh, for the love of… It’s a deal, Your Majesty,” Sam added, apparently struggling to speak without self-combusting.

Crowley clapped enthusiastically before catching himself and reverting back to his dignified, solemn self. “Oh, I gotta get this on tape,” he giggled. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“So… your… Your Majesty, gonna tell us what we’re dealing with? Ugh! Do I really have to call you … that?”

“I fully intend to enjoy this as long as I can, yes,” Crowley replied with a nod. “It’s not every day you two morons show me the respect I deserve.”

“Oh, come on!”

“As for who has Oline,” he continued, ignoring Dean’s outburst, “look.” He paused the video and pointed to two tiny, but very distinct flares on the screen.

“Shifters,” Dean muttered.

“But we got everyone,” Sam began.

“Then you did a poor job, because there’s most definitely some left. And they look pissed. I would be too,” Crowley added with a shrug, “if some half-wit hunter burst through my front door and killed most of my family.”

Dean drove like a maniac, more so than usual. Normally Sam would’ve told him to calm down, but now he sat in silence, with a murderous look on his face. In the backseat sat Crowley, starting to feel a bit green around the eyes. He seriously debated whether or not he should just teleport to the hideout, but then he’d miss the opportunity to bother the boys, so he bit his teeth together and focused on the road ahead.

“Well, that was tense,” he said after the Impala screeched to a halt outside the large building. He stretched his legs and gulped down the cool evening air. “This is where you screwed up last night?”

Sam’s lips were straight and his eyes almost shot lightning bolts. “Shut it, Crowl – Your Majesty. Let’s just find these bitches. My patience is wearing thin.”

It didn’t take long to take care of the last two shifters. Although pissed and strong, they were no match for Crowley, who seemed to find it relaxing and therapeutic to kill. By the time the second one hit the floor, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Ah,” he sighed. “There’s nothing like a little bloodshed in the evening. Pity there weren’t more of them.”

Oline didn’t even look up when he started to untie her; just flexed her jaw and furrowed her eyebrows. “Få de jævla hendene dine vekk fra meg! Jeg sverger: når jeg kommer meg løs hefra så er du en død mann! [Get those fucking hands off of me! I swear: when I get out of this, you’re a dead man!]”

Crowley chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re not gonna kill anyone, darling. There’s no one left TO kill. But I’m sure there’s other ways for you to use all that pent up rage and energy.”

“Crowley? Du er ikke virkelig. Bare en drøm. Faen… [You’re not real. Just a dream. Fuck…]”

“Some people have been known to call me a dream, yes, and I do travel with a pair of plaid nightmares –“

Sam pushed past Crowley and sank to his knees in front of the chair. “Oli, sweetie, look at me. Can you do that for me, please?” He lifted her chin up with his fingers, and smiled softly when her eyes slowly opened.

“Sam? Is it really you? It’s not just an illusion?”

He sighed, sniffing the tear that slid down the edge of his nose. “No, sweetie, it’s really me. And Dean is here too. Even Crowley.”

“I knew you’d come for me. Just hoped it would be before it was too late.”

“Of course we came for you. It’s not the same without you.” He swallowed. He had to lighten the weight on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do if you – I’m crazy about you.”

Dean coughed and grabbed Crowley’s sleeve. “Let’s give them a few minutes. Help me bury the bodies.” Crowley raised his eyebrows, making Dean sigh loudly. “Alright. Help me bury the bodies, Your Majesty. But this is the last one, I swear!”

“I’m gonna miss it,” Crowley sniggered, but he followed Dean outside.

Oline looked from the door to Sam.

“I know,” he replied to her silent question. “It’s a long story, but a small price to pay, really.” He took her hands in his, rubbing the cold from them. “I’m sorry, Oli. I really am.”

“For what?” Her voice cracked as she let out a short, nervous breath.

“That it took something like this to make me say something. I mean… with the life we lead, you’d think we’d understand how fragile that balance can be. But I’d like to… I mean… Can we try to…”

“Yes! I’m… I’m crazy about you too. Just didn’t know how to…” She reached up and put her arms around Sam’s neck, and he swooped her up, giggling like a teenager.

Carefully Oline pressed her lips against his, but withdrew quickly with a hiss. “Ow! Stupid monsters ruining my dream even when they’re dead.”

“Your dream, huh? Well, luckily this isn’t a dream you have to wake up from. There’s plenty of time to live it.” He searched her face for an unharmed spot, and kissed it tenderly.

“Aww… Aren’t you cute?” Crowley cooed from the doorway.

Oline leaned on Sam’s chest, and he rested his head on her shoulder. “Should think so yeah,” she grinned. “I’m adorable and he’s only the most handsome man in the world.”

Dean stuck his head around the corner and grimaced. “Ew, come on, Crowley. Oli clearly got hit on the head or something.”

Tagging these magnificent people:

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#sam x ofc #sam x oline #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn #fanfic #norwegian ofc #writing is hard #shapeshifters

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