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thetravellingvagrant · 1 year ago

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Day 1: In Which A Bully (With Incredibly Fresh Breath) Spits Into My Mouth

In preparation for this years trip I decided - for the first since I wrote a good portion of them – to re-read my previous blog entries and while, yes, they were very funny and great and you should immediately hire me to write pithy and scathing anecdotes for your old-timey print media company publications, the thing that really stood out to me within them was how terrifyingly and stressfully late I apparently always am for everything. I don't think, in the entire 11 year history of this blog, that I have once caught an international bus or flight without doing that awkward half-run-half-walk thing whilst simultaneously repeating the phrase “oh jeez” under my breath.

“Not so, this year!” I vowed, smugly, as I pawed through the annals of places I had been and kebabs I had eaten, seemingly every single day I had been travelling, without exception. “My flight is at ten to two in the afternoon and there is a bus directly from my door to the bus station and then from the station to the airport. There is literally nothing that could stop me from comfortably reaching my destination in a timely manner, today, thank you very much.”

I checked the clock – reading the final flurry of blog entries had taken an hour longer than I expected or had realised. Oh jeez.

Now in...I suppose a bit of a rush, I hurriedly smashed every t-shirt I own – all six of them – into a bag, along other, presumably equally important possessions of mine and darted into my bathroom to shave in a rush as I had started to look a bit like a Victorian factory owner and also because fuck having anything even approaching a beard in any kind of heat, whatsoever. Badly gashing up my face only once, I stepped out of the bathroom four minutes poorer in time, but the face of one teenage Swedish girl the richer.

albeit a bleeding one

I ran-walked my way to the first bus of the day going “oh jeez” a lot, vowing to at least make good on my resolution not to eat a kebab a day while I was away, even if controlling my punctuality in any – even the most minimal – sense was clearly a ludicrous pipe-dream which I was a fool to have thought possible, and just about squeaked on the bus that I needed to get before real panic would have set in so it was fine, anyway, actually, and I'll just keep on being how I am, thanks.

Once deposited like a pellet from a friendly cloaca into the teeming, filthy river of people that is Buchanan Bus Station, I boarded my net bus of the day and was quickly ferried airport-ward. This was all going suspiciously smoothly. Fan of the blog will be aware of the 'first day curse', which usually blights the initial stages of one of these trips, where I miss a connection or get yelled at by a racist or something, but – as yet – nothing bad had happened, and that, in and of itself had put me on edge.

Suspicious, but gladdened to not have been fucked about by the gods of travel, for once, I arrived at Edinburgh airport in great time and, after eating a halloumi wrap I didn't really want but couldn't bring through security, got my body and belongings scanned by an unfriendly jobsworth and found myself sitting in the departure lounge, not really sure what to do with all this spare time, I had found. I decided to sit, motionless, staring at a nearby clock. Baby steps, innit.

Eventually, I found myself in the queue for the shitty little Ryanair flight which would carry me to my first destination of the trip. Seconds away from passing the final security check, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and found myself gazing into the botoxed, yet still quite ugly, face of some awful Ryanair branded bootlicker.

“You'll need to check the size of your bag.” she oozed, through poorly painted lips and a fake smile.

I have been travelling with this bag since the beginning of The Travelling Vagrant and beyond and never once had I been asked to check its size. It fit. Fuck off. Humouring her, I left my hard fought and, really, pretty choice positioning in the queue and showed her that – yes – my bag did meet the size specifications, if you ...squeezed it down a bit.

“Not that one” She gurned, motioning to the hole of the bag-size-checking-thing, in which I had docked my rucksack. “The one at the top”.

The hole at the top of the checker was the size of a handbag. A small handbag.

“If you could check it in there, please, sir!”

I looked at the hole, then at my bag, then at her

“...Well obviously it's not going to fit in that, is it.” I replied.

“In that case, it'll just be over here to my colleague to take your payment; it'll be £46.99 today, thank you!” and with that she tottered away, ungracefully, on her ugly wedge heels to ruin someone else's day. A lot of other people's days, actually. People were being plucked left, right and centre from the queue to play out the pantomime of pretending that their bag might, conceivably, if you squint, be the same size as a small briefcase, but none of them were. Obviously.

Confused, I googled Ryanair's luggage policy, which seems to have changed since the last time I was unfortunate enough to fly with them. Apparently now the overhead storage lockers are reserved for priority passengers, only and any luggage you wish to take on board has to fit under the seat in front of you, if you're not one of the golden elite. To clarify, Ryanair deem bringing your luggage with you on a flight to be a privilege and not – as any right minded person would assume, part of the absolute minimum requirements of their terms of service. I have long since used the (great) analogy that buying a priority boarding pass for Ryanair I like buying a breath-mint for a bully who's about to spit in your mouth. It looks like my breath will be minty fresh from now on. The disgusting, moneygrubbing, evil cunts.

Also worth noting is that in order to make the payment to just bring my stuff with me, I needed to use the same debit card with which I had purchased the ticket initially. Fine for me, though as I finally crossed the security checkpoint, nearly £50 lighter, I overheard a distraught Indian couple who had not brought such a card with them and as such, were not being permitted to fly, if they wanted to bring their luggage with them. When a core part of your company's regulations routinely (I presume) leave people crying and desperately calling their families to hastily re-schedule or entirely cancel plans in an airport's departure lounge, maybe your regulations are bordering on dystopian. Food for thought. Also shit for food. Eat my shit, Ryanair.

As a final indignity, I had been told that my luggage would have to be placed in the hold because who fucking knows, and that I should remove any laptops, tablets, medication or valuables from it before it was taken, which, yes, was basically all my luggage was. So I was expected to sit on the flight, just holding a mountain of my own stuff on my lap, after paying £47 so they could put six of my t-shirts in the hold. Genuinely incredible. In the end, I just hid the tag that they had affixed to my bag under a flap of my jacket, brought it on the flight and put it in an overhead locker, anyway, without a single problem or bit of hassle. Was a fuck waiting an extra half an hour at the luggage carousel.

Fuck you, I win.

I took my seat on the plane (randomly allocated, of course, because being allowed to sit with your friends is a luxury, too, apparently), furious to have paid so much money to such a shit company for no reason beyond them just wanting it and tried to settle in as best I could. Someone was eating an orange, directly behind me. Of course they were. Fuckin' Ryanair, man...

After enduring the surprisingly long flight with little more to complain about, save the chubby man next to me coughing himself inside out and then back in again and – owing to my randomly allocated aisle seat – the stewardesses rolling the refreshment trolley into my knee fifteen times a minute, I was pooted out into Lisbon airport. From here, everything went remarkably smoothly – my quick feet and forceful elbows saw me getting through passport control in literally a matter of seconds and thanks to an incredibly conveniently placed metro station, I was in the city, proper and faced with a scant twenty minute walk, in a straight line, right to my hostel, which I undertook gleefully – my legs having been curled into little Fibonacci spirals on public transport for most of the trip. I walked through some lovely warm rain with something of an uncharacteristic pep in my step – I may even have described myself as... not happy, let's not go crazy, here, but content, I suppose? The journey had been relatively easy and stress-free and I hadn't had to run or panic once. It appeared that I had bested the curse of the first day, this year. With the obvious exception of Ryanair, who are shit.

After a short walk through a nice city, I had reached my hostel and...the doors were locked. And huge. And intimidating. The rain, at this point, had drifted from 'fun novelty' to 'soggy grundies' territory and I really did want nothing more than to have a bit of a lie down. Sighing, I checked the surrounding area for signs that I was in the right place. I found this in the form of a weirdly well concealed buzzer, though, on which, the only sign that the building housed a hostel was a sticker next to one of the buttons reading “NOT A HOSTEL”

I'm on the right track!

One of my key resolutions with this trip was to be less timid about things – not to discard plans wholesale because the doors to museums were closed, to just go into shops and cafes and just ask for things I wanted rather than standing outside, crippled by the awkwardness of speaking to someone who definitely knew English, perfectly, anyway; to just press on random door buzzers and see what happens. And so I did.

“Hello?” came the reply. Not the best start – no “hello, hostel speaking” or anything reassuring like that.

“Hi, I have a reservation?” I replied, opting to follow not the best start with an equally suboptimal continuation.

“Ah, okay, come in.”

the door buzzed open. Fair enough. I'm gonna press random keys on every buzzer I see now, because that was easy as shit and only good things came from it.

I was greeted by a quiet, albeit extremely friendly little Indian feller who worked at the hostel. He checked me in very politely and quickly and even kept referring to me as “Mister Lawrence” - which was very delightful, if slightly uncomfortable – and soon I was left alone in my genuinely quite nice digs for the net few days. It was, surprisingly and contra to the booking.com reviews, really quite clean, spacious and comfortable. I didn't even mind the shared toilet situation.

I'll be in private accommodation for the majority of my trip – another contributing factor to this vagrancy being on easy mode – which wasn't a conscious choice to give myself something nice for once, but rather down to the fact that a shit private room – which I am willing to endure, gladly, Tariq. And your fire ants. - was hovering around the same cost as a good dorm room anyway in this crazy expensive little country, and it's neighbour. So, not willing to put myself in something like a 20 man dorm just to save an extra five euros a night, circumstances have dictated that I get lots of nice privacy and to walk around all in my pants. I'm not sorry.

Done, entirely to completion, I couldn't relax into the night quite yet. I was hungry and, sticking to my resolution, I wasn't going to get a kebab. I would be smart and industrious and go to a local supermarket and get a bunch of stuff I could reuse and that wouldn't make me feel like someone had broken into my mouth during the night to start an illegal tire fire when I woke up.

I googled nearby supermarkets and headed out to one that sounded promising and – crucially – was only two minutes walk away.

This supermarket was possibly the worst I have ever visited. Run, as it was, by a very grumpy little man and stocking next to nothing. Or, rather, I suppose that's not fair – it stocked loads of some things; tonnes of spices, loads of shower gel (though almost no other toiletries) an insane amount of instant noodles; like three full aisles full of instant noodles and a random assortment of shitty homeware - disposable roasting tins, napkins and small plastic spoons (only small ones, though. No big ones. That'd be a mental thing to stock.)

I looked around for ages even the most rudimentary building blocks of a basic meal, but found none. No bread, no cheese, no meat, no vegetables (beyond a tray of wilting tomatoes and a single courgette), but being too tired to google and walk to another supermarket, I decided to just piece together a meal from what I could find.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. To be fair, I had been there ages.

“Oh uh. I'm just looking for...anything” I replied. The man seemed annoyed, but honestly, his shop was shit.

“Like what?”

“...Like, cheese or...”

“No cheese. Only this” he pointed to milk. Right. Not quite the same.

“...Alright, thanks. I'm just having a little look around” I beamed. This seemed to...not placate him – he still seemed furious, but what was he going to do? Eject me from his shop for browsing? Jog on.

Eventually I left with an armful of the least worst food I could find, for which I paid a frankly staggering price and returned home to what may be the most insane meal I have ever eaten.

For the morbidly curious, it is a slices canned hotdog and pickle wrap with garlic mayo and it was repellent.

And afterwards, with my guts quivering ominously, I went to bed for a bibble and a big, nice sleep. Fuck Ryanair.

#travel #travelling #vagrant #portugal #lisbon #photography #ryanair #ryanair are shit #hostel #rain #ahh

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variouslife · 2 years ago

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Ruvini’s stroy from Bangladesh

On May 1st, I received a notice that our factory will shut down in two weeks. I really don't know what to do now. I haven't been paid for months, and now most of the food I have at home is running out. So I've been drinking water instead of having breakfast for several days. Just a few years ago, many factories came into our town. They produced a lot of clothing like fast fashion brands and spa brands. I was happy at first because I had an opportunity to work. However, I am only getting paid $20 per week which is more than 60 hours of work. It is not that much money, however, I had no choice but to take it. At this point, I don't know if I can ever find a job that pays more than this for an inexperienced, uneducated woman like me. Sometimes I resent my parents who passed away. I should be born as a man… or I should follow them and go to heaven.

"…(Sobbing)…"

"Oh my dear, Sachini, are you okay? What's going on?" On the way to work to fill 2 weeks, I met a crying Sachini. Sachini is a close friend of mine who grew up with me since childhood, and we have been working in this factory together for 2 years.

"…Ruvini… my parents told me that I need to get married to the guy from Kotte… But I don't want to. As you know, I just started dating Dilshan!"

"Oh, poor Sachini… I'm sorry to hear that. Is it because the factory will shut down?”

"…Yes… both my parents are sick and they are not able to take care of me. And the guy said that he can give me some money if I get married to him. But he is 60 years old! He is 40 years older than me and he is even older than my parents"

"I'm so sorry to hear that. we might be able to find some other place to work. Shachini, please don't give up."

"… I don't think so…"

"….Why?.. I know that there are other factories that produce fast fashion clothes."

"… It used to be. Apparently, American people don't like fast fashion anymore because the business affects the environment and the poverty wage. They wanted to get cheaper labour so they paid very little. Now, however, they want to look like nice people, so they don't want to produce fast-fashion clothing anymore. They are a hypocrite. We are gonna become poorer obviously."

"…Oh no… so then, I don't know what to do…"

Neither I nor Sachini has an answer. We are thoroughly abandoned by the world, no, even by God. Should I work while being grateful for the remaining two weeks… Or, should I work while cursing… My two weeks are still going by…Without getting any answers……

#garment workers #south asia #living wage

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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Lily Evans and Severus Snape: Headcanons

So, I was asked in the ask about Sirius and Regulus what I thought about Snape and Lily. At this point people are probably going, “Oh that Carnivorous Muffin is just clearly a Snape stan who thinks he could never do anything wrong and anyone who was slightly mean to him is evil.” Shockingly, I’m actually not, I just happen to think sexual harassment and attempted murder are bad and probably worse than JKR intended (I do think she was trying to go the “boys will be boys” route versus “oh my god, they just dumped pigs blood on Carrie at the prom and then threw her at a starving vampire”)

So let’s start on Snape.

First, Snape did live an incredibly shitty life, with circumstances beyond his control, that did lead to many of his poorer choices. In no way am I saying that it was alright for Snape to have grown up in an impoverished, abusive, household and endured years of humiliation and torment at school.

That said, I believe that we all, in some respects, are responsible for our actions and our decisions. Yes, even when we come from non-privileged backgrounds. Life is hard, some people will have it much easier than you, that doesn’t excuse you becoming a domestic terrorist or tormenting and terrifying your students, young children, so much so that an entire generation comes out with a loathing and incompetence in your subject.

I guess let’s start back on his friendship with Lily Evans. We get... a really weird perspective from Snape on that friendship. Time and her tragic death have warped it into this strange worship where I’m not sure the Lily Evans that exists in his mind and memory is the one that really was there. She’s this shining Madonna idol who he failed, actively betrayed, is very very hung up about it years later.

I suspect they weren’t as good of friends as either of them thought they were and it comes down to Snape’s resentment of his own upbringing and muggles. I believe Snape was very racist towards muggles, specifically, due to his father. It was his way of grappling with his home life and only fueled by being in Slytherin. Lily was probably, in his mind, always a golden exception to the rule (Lily is the token, gold standard, muggleborn where she’s pretty, brilliant, charming, etc.) That Severus himself was a halfblood clearly caused him some angst. What I’m getting at is that I believe throughout their entire friendship, especially when they got to Hogwarts, there was an unacknowledged undercurrent of intense racism that eventually boiled up with that one incident in Snape’s fifth year.

Calling her that, while he views it as a slip of the tongue that damned him for all time, I see it more as a Freudian Slip. That sort of thing doesn’t just slip out from nowhere, not at that age when they both knew exactly what that word meant, it simmers beneath the surface, and was ultimately what he thought of her. Later, she became the Madonna figure that he views her as today (ironically perhaps even less of a person than he viewed her as at the time).

That said I think a number of factors played into the young Snape becoming a Death Eater. One, becoming friends with Lucius/that crowd who were all being sucked into Tom’s influence. Two, having his terrible home life and all the implications of Snape resenting his own blood status as well as muggles and muggle borns at large. Three, the loss of friendship with Lily (now there’s nothing to hold him back anymore, he has no reason to preserve muggleborn life). Fourth, Dumbledore’s letting Sirius, James, and Remus entirely off the hook in the werewolf incident.

That last one, especially, I imagine cemented Snape’s utter hatred of ‘the light’ (don’t get me started on the stupidity of light/dark in Harry Potter but I guess I’ll use the term) and those that cater to muggleborns. They’re hypocrites of the highest order, Dumbledore claiming to defend the poor and non-nobility, when he goes and does the exact opposite (James is the next lord Potter, Sirius is still pureblooded even if disowned, Severus Snape is a dirt poor halfblood).

So what I’m saying is I understand why Snape did become a Death Eater, I do not condone this action. Especially as, unlike Regulus, Snape never gets cold feet. He loves being a Death Eater at first, he’s living the dream, getting all the revenge he ever wanted and burning the stupid wizarding world to the ground as he scrambles for ways to climb in Tom Riddle’s graces. We don’t see any hint that he was wavering, thinking of the fact that beloved Lily might die in battle, perhaps at his hand, until the prophecy.

Now, I’m a little kinder than some about the prophecy. We know Snape overhears the first portion of the prophecy in early 1980. He eagerly rushes to the dark lord, regales him with the prophecy in both a) aid to the cause and b) in the hopes of climbing in the ranks and gaining the dark lord’s notice. At this point, Lily Evans is pregnant, perhaps knows the gender, but has not given birth. Months later, when both Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter are born at the end of July, Snape realizes he has signed Lily Evans’ death warrant (because despite Dumbledore talking, I imagine Tom always planned to kill off both children, Pettigrew just happened to make things convenient for Tom to go to the Potters first).

With Lily’s death now so inevitable, and her blood on his own hands, Snape has his existential crisis, goes to Dumbledore who puts the Potters in hiding and becomes a double agent. Snape also pleads for Lily’s life with Tom and he puts in a minimal amount of effort to spare the woman.

Then Lily dies anyway and now Snape lives in the bitter cynicism most commonly seen in characters from Game of Thrones. He’s Dumbledore’s agent and sort of a Dirty Harry character, getting to see all the nasty things that many of the other order members never have to deal with. He’s one of the more intelligent characters in the series, able to see the truth of the world he lives in, but he also doesn’t care enough to actually do anything about it. He’s a bitter, resentful, and angry protector of Harry Potter, choosing to hate a naive child for all the reminders of his own terrible life (both in Lily, for failing and betraying her, and in James his most hated rival and tormentor). He gleefully enables the favoritism of Slytherin (my god how he panders to Draco Malfoy) while tormenting poor Neville into terror (that Neville’s greatest 13 year old fear is Snape is very telling).

Basically by the time we get to him in canon Snape not only isn’t happy but I think he doesn’t want to be happy. He’s accustomed to his bitterness, his cynicism, his quiet rage and moves forward out of both resignation, guilt, and a sense of obligation to a woman’s ghost. The actions he takes in canon aren’t so much for Harry as they are for the memory of Lily Evans.

Even if Snape could be happy at that point, change his life or his purpose, I do not think he would. He’s a man who has given up on life.

Now, onto Lily Evans.

You probably think I’m going to rail on her to for the sheer hypocrisy and nerve of marrying James Potter. I’m actually not. Lily Evans is one of my favorite characters in the Harry Potter series and probably the one I’d label as the most moral (though that’s a very low bar in Harry Potter, the characters are almost all assholes, but even so Lily would still be very high on the list).

You know what, I’m just going to damn myself and sound like a crazy person. Lily Evans always reads to me as a more moral young female Tom Riddle.

What the hell? You undoubtedly ask but I’ll explain.

Lily, while having a far more stable homelife than Tom Riddle, also comes from a muggleborn background. She’s exceptionally brilliant, very good looking, and very charming with a lot of people who would call her friends but no one close. Lily, aside from Snape (and that’s debatable), has no friends.

If Lily had not been a Gryffindor, and were Dumbledore not a raging misogynist, his Tom Riddle bells likely would have been ringing with her.

“But wait, that can’t be right!”

Oh, yes it can. First, as I went into above with Snape and Lily, there was something deeply wrong with that friendship. I believe they both considered themselves best friends, didn’t see many of the warning flags, but ultimately we see the giant fissure when Snape lets loose the m-word. Given all of that, I would not label them having been true friends in the first place. Just the appearance of friends.

Otherwise, while it’s very easily to canonically point out James’ friends it’s incredibly difficult to do so with Lily. First, people hardly remember Lily. We get Dumbledore talking about her like she’s the Virgin Mary, saving her son with the power of her love. We get Snape’s weird Virgin Mary impressions of her. Otherwise, it’s pretty much just Slughorn. Everyone else remembers that she married James and that was great because JAMES WAS SO COOL and that she had very striking eyes and was “nice”. Lily is less than a ghost in Harry Potter canon (sadly Harry never really realizing it).

Also, unlike James who has Sirius, Remus, and Peter to point towards (that are very important characters in canon). Lily has no one. The godmother was Alice Longbottom, a woman many years older than Lily and James who probably liked Lily well enough but I can’t imagine was a close friend. In canon there’s an offhand mention of two girls named Mary and Marlene but we don’t see much of them/Severus was always cited as Lily’s closest friend. As for Lily’s sister, well we know they’re estranged. I think it’s very telling that Lily writes a letter to Sirius, James’ best friend and certainly not hers, telling him that James is pouting over his invisibilty cloak. It’s because there was no one else to write.

So Lily Evans is a brilliant girl, who everyone likes and is very charming, but has no friends and led a very lonely and short life.

Here’s where my slack towards Lily comes in.

When she dumps Snape I completely understand why she did so. Snape dropping that word wasn’t simply a mistake, a moment of infinite regret, but something that revealed what he truly thought of her and where she came from. Lily was absolutely right in walking away.

However, without Snape, her closest friend is suddenly gone and the world is cold. As graduation approaches I imagine Lily’s career options become clearer and clearer. While very talented and smart, Lily is a muggleborn, what job she does manage to get (thanks to the sheer nepotism of the wizarding world/lack of jobs) will likely be through Slughorn if she manages to get a job at all. The world is cold and it is cruel and no one seems to even notice.

Cue James Potter. I do believe, probably until seventh year, Lily loathed James, not simply because of the horrifying things he did to Severus (and I’m sure she knew very little of it, Snape hiding most of it from her out of pride and shame), but because he’s just a giant dick. He’d make flirting with her a kind of game and joke to be shared with Sirius, something to hold over Snape’s head, like she’s a prize to be one.

However, by seventh year the werewolf incident has happened, Snape’s retreated further and further into Death Eater recruit land and she’s cut him off, and for all my “James is a dick” I do imagine he calmed down a little. Now that Snape is no longer friends with Lily/after the whole almost murder incident I imagine they didn’t bully him nearly as much as they used to. Though yes, they probably still bullied him, but Lily probably doesn’t know that now that she’s lost contact with Snape.

James is charming and very good looking. He seems a bit more mature than he used to be. Lily is desperately lonely, living in a world that rejects everything she is, and James seems like one of the few who does support her (that James is more of a ‘pretty fly for a white guy’ kind of support for muggleborns doesn’t hit until later). So Lily is charmed and makes the largest mistake of her life, she and James start dating.

Now, given their extreme youth as well as Lily’s pedigree (say what you like, I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Potter were thrilled that their son was dating a muggleborn) I imagine the wedding was a shot gun wedding and Lily got unintentionally pregnant. Yes, go ahead and throw fruit at me or call foul, I just can’t imagine they’d want a child that young while in the middle of a war while they’re part of an active resistance movement and only just out of Hogwarts.

Then things start snowballing downhill. Lily and James have just joined the resistance movement, Lily’s son is prophesied to defeat Voldemort, they strongly suspect one of James’ close friends is a spy, and they’re forced into hiding.

In hiding is where I imagine stress runs high and their marriage begins to fall apart. We know from Lily’s letter that James was routinely leaving hiding, using the cloak, so he could meet up with Sirius and Peter (I imagine Lupin’s on the out as they suspected he was the spy). While James might not realize what a big deal that was, I imagine Lily always did, and she begins to realize just what she’s gotten herself into but there’s no way out while in hiding.

Now we go really off the rails into headcanon territory in: what the hell is up with Harry Potter?

In my stories, I often choose the unwitting god route. Harry can’t die because he is a god, he becomes the master of death and always was the master of death. This is an answer, but it’s one that makes canon Harry a god and... I would not want canon Harry as a god. JKR and Dumbledore push the “Lily loved her child so much that it deflected death... multiple times” but this always felt... unsatisfying. Many parents love their children (fathers too, JKR, let’s not make this weird Virgin Mary thing) and yet Harry Potter alone in the history of mankind survives multiple times.

Most likely, Lily pulled off some insane bullshit with absolutely no resources and minimal education AND EVERYONE IGNORES IT. We do know that Lily crafted the blood wards, wards stronger than anything Dumbledore himself can come up with/than Voldemort can break. Ones that protect Harry not only at home but away from it as it melts Voldemort for simply touching his skin. Lily pulled off the impossible in only a few months and did it right under everyone’s nose.

This makes her easily one of the most intelligent characters in Harry Potter. Probably beating out Dumbledore and maybe tying with Tom Riddle. And Dumbledore tells us, “Your Virgin Mary mother loved you so much, Harry, that it courses through your veins and lights those that would want to harm you on fire.”

So, that’s Lily for you.

Now, that said, I’m probably a bit biased and clearly very lenient with her marrying James. To be honest it took me years to figure out why the hell Lily would ever marry James after what happened with Severus and was always one of those weird canon things I never quite understood. He’s that good looking and charming, I guess, was my response.

The answer I now land on with some confidence was that the world is that cruel and bleak and Lily was utterly alone for two years.

By the way, a side note/plug, of all my stories while head canons do pop up here and there I think “October” is one where they tend to crop up more. It’s a vast AU of canon, but it gives an idea of what I think x character would do in y situation.

#headcanons #harry potter #lily evans #severus snape #october

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years ago

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The Wall(Jaemin story)

Hello, this was a super quick writing I did. I lowkey spent 45 minutes of free writing. This comes up after reading the first part of the book Five (I had to read this for a class) and this keeps bothering my mind. So, now I warn you Jaemin is a rich guy here who is nice but the other members are a bit snobby and ignorant like rich people in the past. I just want to idk remind people that history once showed how two separate society tier destroyed lots of people and that actually at the moment, it is still happening somewhere out there. We can make changes. Idk i just wanna try to write again and I hope this is either inspiring or make sense Warning : poor girl, (y/n) is a laundry girl, snobby members, rich and poor mentioned explicitly. rough hand (?) but yeah it's not a romance a/n : i am just trying to write again, i'm taking my writing to fiction class and i am so nervous coz everyone looks so good but i will try and keep practicing. thank you for staying..

His younger self cannot understand how the social tier works, nor does his current young mature self. Jaemin smooths his hair back and tightens his neck tie while he watches his proportionally healthy reflection of himself in the mirror. His mind keeps running to the wall that separated the people of the west and the east. As much as he remembers, his father only brought him once there because he wanted to show him about what’s beyond the wall and how he should be grateful he lives in the East side, where all the riches party and shower in luxuries. Jaemin was seven when he witnessed a young dirty lad pick up moldy bread from the trash and popped it into his mouth with gleeful eyes. Until this day, his fifteen year old self cannot get the idea of why social status barred two different lives. Moreover, why the rich cannot help the poor by raising them to be their wife or adopted family.

“Your tie will choke you if you keep tightening it Jaem,” his older brother pops his head into the room. Jaemin smiles and takes his arms down. “What’s so special about dinner?” he questions his brother who is once again fixing his appearance.

Renjun sighs, “We need to present ourselves clean and tidy or we are just like the,” Renjun gives his eyebrow some wiggles and Jaemin blurts out the words “The West people?” Renjun nods “The commoners and poors.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes “You mean the humans living on the other side of the walls.”

“Why are we always talking about this?” Renjun finally shoots a questioning look to the taller guy.

Jaemin shrugs his shoulders “I don’t know why we, the rich, cannot share and make the poor live equally like us.”

“That is because you are too young to understand that.” his oldest brother, Doyoung, appears in the reflection.

“But we can share, we tone down our living style, give this money to the poor and make them slowly have a better life.” Jaemin still stands still despite seeing how Renjun and Doyoung are both already rushing to use their shoes and checking the clock. Their two brothers sigh “And if we do that, won’t that make us poorer?” Both of them ask the youngest, and Jaemin almost talks back but he doesn’t feel like arguing against two of them, so he internally thanks the gods when Doyoung cuts him off.

“We’ll be late if you don’t stop questioning and wear your shoes now. Quick Jaemin, time is expensive.” Doyoung pauses midway to toss the younger a pair of socks and rushes down the hallway.

On the ride to the fancy restaurant his father booked for a regular Friday, Jaemin keeps thinking alone.

It has always been in his mind how can he understand this society level thing and how can he make a change. He didn’t know it was about time he will meet a special someone who really moves his heart and makes him very motivated to make changes for the society.

Jaemin is eighteen when he accidentally sees you working in his best friend’s washing room. He was lost in his thought when looking for the bathroom. Despite knowing Jeno’s (his bestfriend) house by heart he somehow that day stumbles into you.

His heart skips a beat the moment he sees you looking graceful while pouring your energy and emotion into washing the clothes.

“Oh, sorry. I am afraid you missed the bathroom.” you blurt and secretly whisper that you shouldn’t have done that and now your job is in danger. However, Jaemin shakes his head. You are surprised that he doesn’t get mad!

“What are you doing here?” he asks, while his eyes wander along the tubs of clothes, all separated by colors, some soaked in soap water, some in water only.

“I am working as you can see,” you continue doing your task, “Washing the laundry of the Lee family.”

“And how much are you paid?” Jaemin clasps his mouth when he sees your face turn surprised. “I am sorry, I shouldn't have asked that.” he turns super red and you only smile weakly “It’s okay, I should answer all questions a man proposed to me.” you bitterly smile.

Jaemin must have seen how uncomfortable you are so he changes his question and upon seeing your figure he questions,“Forget that, but does Mr. Lee give you food?”

You almost laugh out loud but you just stay silent. “Judging by your cleanliness and your clothes, you sure are a nobel too. Mayhaps a friend of the young master, but you sure don’t know much stuff.”

If this is any other rich man, you are fired right now, but to Jaemin, your answers spark curiosity.

“Then explain to me young lady, what’s your name?” he reaches out his hand and you look at it confusedly. Gingerly you wipe your wet hands into your working gown and shakingly you take his hand into yours. “(y/n) young lord.” He makes a firm grip and shakes your hand, making an internal note at how rough your hand is. “Jaemin.” You gasp in your heart at how soft his hand is, must be a man who never works in his life.

“I’m afraid I must continue to work.” your eyes grow wide when you hear footsteps coming to your place. Jaemin is still shocked from the whole thing and he freezes.

“Jaem? What are you doing in the laundry room, our restroom is not even here.” A deep voice, he believes belongs to Jaehyun or Jeno’s brother, echoes.

“Oh, I’m sorry.I was just lost in my head.” Jaemin quickly turns his head away, his other hand leaves a wave to you and you feel your heart warms a little. Not all rich men are annoying!

---

After his play date at Jeno's house, Jaemin is back seated in his room. His head is trying to remember if he ever hears anything about working as a laundry girl. To no avail, none of his classes mentioned it. He just brings his mind back to how frail you look, how tiring it must be to wash loads of dirty clothes every day, takes them out to the drying room in the attic and hangs the big sheets over strong strings.

“Doyoung, have you ever tried washing your clothes?” Jaemin pops his head inside Doyoung’s study room and the oldest just shakes his head, not even sparing a glance.

“Does the lady doing our laundry get proper food and wages?”

His brother looks up and sadly shakes his head “Proper wages are only for people who run their own company. Those labor workers, they only have enough to pay for their food for one day and maybe rent a bed for sleeping. Why?”

Jaemin clenches his fist, “Then why can’t dad pay them better? Give them food from our tables.”

Renjun shows up upon hearing the commotion from his room, “It’s because society is selfish.”

“Then we need to stop it.”

The two big brothers laugh “You’re too naive and too young. Why don’t you go back and finish your reading? History needs your attention and stop thinking about the poor.”

The youngest feels ridiculed by the answer. No, he is not too naive or too young. He just wants what is best and equal for everyone, especially for (y/n). He needs to know if she can read or if she has someone else to help her raise money for surviving, he wants that rough hand to be soft like his or maybe his soft hand can be a little bit rough. He finds out from the kind laundry lady their family has that their hands become rough from the strong detergent they have to deal with every day.

The young man is more than determined to find a way to live their life and understand how hard it is to be a less rich person. He needs to make changes and he knows exactly how to do it.

He is sad Jeno’s house is far from his, he cannot sneak his way to give you some foods or help you wash but every time he makes a visit to Jeno’s house he used to say he needs to take some fresh air alone, and what he did was secretly come to you and helps you hang the laundry. You forbid him from washing it because you know his rough hand will be a question to his family. But the effort of hanging heavy wet clothes is enough to actually make Jaemin skip his morning classes the next day. When his brothers ask him why, he slides it off as he is feeling sick. Yes he is sick of how society works, and as the future law maker of the town. Since Doyoung is assigned to be the king and Renjun is next in line but he chooses to just be the advisor, Jaemin will take part as the law maker. All he needs to do is fix the law, propose it to his brothers and he believes with enough evidence and proper explanation he can make the poor lives better.

It is still a long and tough journey, but because he keeps learning secretly, he can edit and fix his law one by one.

He wants equity and equalism, he doesn’t want to see a wall anymore and he doesn’t want to hide behind the comfort of being born as the rich.

All thanks to you, (y/n), the laundry girl he shook hands with.

end

net @superm-net @hotpink-ent

#supermnet #hotpinklists #jaemin angst #jaemin x reader #jaemin story #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x you #jaemin x y/n #jaemin fanfic

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whatyouandihave-makesmefree · 5 years ago

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How to say “I love you” without actually saying it - or 137 Milkovichy ways to say “I fuckin’ love Ian Clayton Gallagher”.

1. Kiss me, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.

2. I’ll meet you there in 20.

3. You say that again, I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.

4. Take your hand off the glass.

5. You wanna chit chat more or you wanna get on me?

6. Fuckin’ tough guy, huh?

7. Jesus Christ, you want us to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?

8. Sorry, I gotta go kill your dad, but I’m doing a lot of people a favor, including you.

9. -I missed you- You did? -Yeah, man.-

10. So, uh, what you going down for, then, huh?

11. Don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.

12. -You fuck anyone in there yet?- God, no. -Wise choice.-

13. Hey, my dad took my brothers on a run out of town for a couple days, so you wanna ditch that dump and crash at my place, you can.

14. Fuck you, is what you were invited to.

15. What are you hoping, I tell you not to go? I’m gonna chase after you like some bitch?

16. -Don’t.- Don’t what? -Just…-

17. -You seen him?- Why do you care? -Don’t.-

18. You heard from Gallagher?

19. Not fucking Frank. The other one, the redhead.

20. I like fucking carrot-tops, like, with the freckles and the pale skin and fucking alien-looking.

21. He in trouble? What kind of trouble?

22. You wearing cologne? -No. It’s Kenyatta’s perfume soap shit.-

23. I gotta take care of something important.

24. No, I’m not having fun. I spent the whole day looking for your coked-out ass.

25. You coming back?

26. I’ll do it.

27. Those fingers go anywhere near that cock, I’m gonna break every knuckle in your hand, all 15 of them.

28. Together.

29. That all you think he is? Some twink?

30. Probably best if you don’t, tough guy.

31. Of course we are.

32. You want me to go? -No, I don’t want you to go.-

33. I’m not lying to you.

34. Ian, what you and I have makes me free, not what these assholes know.

35. Well, good. Leave. What the hell do I care, bitch? Fuck.

36. Hey! Excuse me! Can I get everybody’s attention, please? I just want everybody here to know I’m fucking gay. A big old ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that. You happy now?

37. Fuck you! Don’t worry about it! I’ve been staying at Ian’s since you’ve been in the can, bitch! Guess what we’ve been doing, daddy! We’ve been fucking! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard, and I fucking like it.

38. You’re a fucking dick. Yeah, there. That’s what you get.

39. You love him? -Maybe. I don’t know.- Because he has a real penis? -Yeah, I guess.-

40. Rise and fucking shine, Cinderella.

41. Yo, sleepy-face.

42. Hey, you okay? Feeling sick or something?

43. All right, you want me to bring you back something to eat?

44. Ian, are you high? You take something?

45. Fuck’s wrong with him?

46. Before, he was fine. He was happy. He’s staying up all hours of the night, dancing, telling fucking jokes. He kicks my ass every day. I can’t keep up with him.

47. No, no, look. He– he’s low… We cheer him up.

48. What do you mean, hos– Like a psych ward? No fucking way! No fucking way! He’s staying here.

49. I can– I can take care of him. Okay? Let me take care of him until he’s better.

50. Don’t fucking tell me what’s impossible! We’re taking care of him here. You, me, us. His fucking family.

51. He’s not going to some fucking nut house. You hear me? He stays here. He’s staying with me.

52. I’ll be there. -Better be.-

53. All right. I guess I’m going with you.

54. She’ll send him to a fucking shrink. No. We fix this ourselves.

55. I came out for you, you piece of shit.

56. What’s your type? -Redhead.- I am downstairs. -Batshit crazy.- Check. -Packing 9 inches.-

57. I got to take you to a hospital, Ian.

58. I’m worried about you.

59. His partner. Lover? Family? You know?

60. At least he’ll be getting some kind of fucking help.

61. Relationship to the patient? -Sister.- -You?- -Uh, boyfriend.-

62. Hey. Sorry I’m late.

63. We gotta get you to a fucking clinic. Get some meds. Today.

64. Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right.

65. He’s not a fucking lab rat.

66. He’s got me.

67. Hey, Ian’s sleeping in there.

68. All right, breakfast of champs. We got your mood stabilizer, anti-psychotic, anti-depressant. Gatorade.

69. Shut the fuck up. Take the pills, bitch.

70. Hey, no caffeine on your meds.

71. Eat it. Take all those pills on an empty stomach and you’re going to have diarrhea real bad.

72. I didn’t know which Bs to get, so I just got all the fucking Bs. I got B-complex, super B-complex, B-12, B-6.

73. The hell happened to your hand?

74. Did a doctor take care of that?

75. You can’t go anywhere unless you get that looked at, man.

76. Your hand, man.

77. No, no. Look, you’re not supposed to drink on lithium. It makes your blood fucking toxic, and it gets you hammered in like two seconds flat. You can’t-

78. You look like a fucking wet rat.

79. We’re going on a date. -Fuck, yes, we are.-

80. Where the fuck are you?

81. Where the fuck you been?

82. You okay?

83. It means we take care of each other.

84. It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit.

85. You look good.

86. Got a new tattoo. Did it myself. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

87. Been thinking about you. You ever think of me? Gonna wait for me?

88. Will you? Wait?

89. You like the high school bleachers? Our spot, man.

90. Look, I’m, um I’m getting some new IDs, some cash, and heading to Mexico.- Wow. -You should come.-

91. Thought a lot about you inside. You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do? Hmm? Can I do?

92. Knew you’d come.

93. Come here.

94. I’m gonna see you again?

95. The fuck you looking at?

96. It’s what kept me going in the joint. The beach. Us.

97. Oh, check it out. Ian Gallagher putting his big boy pants on!

98. You never fucking visited me.

99. What am I leaving behind? My family? Who cares I never see those shitheads again. You had my back more than they ever did.

100. You ever think about me? When I was in the joint?

101. Fuck, I missed you.

102. What the fuck is that? I don’t want your fucking money! I want you to come with– me.

103. Don’t do this.

104. Fuck you, Gallagher.

105. I rolled on the cartel I was working for, and in exchange, guess who gets to pick where he gets locked up?

106. No, I just did it ‘cause it was the right thing.

107. Would you be fucking happy? -Yes, fuck, yes!-

108. I guess I need some advice. It’s about my partner, Ian.

109. You’re not throwing your fuckin’ parole for me. We need to get you the hell outta this shit-hole.

110. You don’t belong in here, Gallagher.

111. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.

112. FaceTime your brother. See the baby.

113. You seen Ian?

114. About time, man. Your Panda Express is getting cold.

115. Eat your Szechuan beans.

116. Chill your fucking tits and eat your noodles, man.

117. Let’s get out of here, get some Pinkberry.

118. No. No. I’m not running. I need to protect him.

119. Jesus Christ. You proposing to me over fucking patty melts?

120. Fuck it. I do.

121. When you know, you know. You know?

122. No, just saying you don’t love me enough now. And that’s fine. It’s cool.

123. Jesus Christ, save the fucking speech, you pussy. I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll fucking marry you.

124. You must really love cock. -I definitely love one.-

125. You ever try to get me to move to Milwaukee, I’ll fuckin’ murder you.

126. Hey, I like the blue ones. -Yeah?-

127. You sure you still wanna go through with this? -Yes. Why?-

128. You’re a sneaky bastard.

129. -Take your meds?- Yes. -Good.-

130. The son of a bitch is never gonna let me be happy. He needs to die today.

131. Well, there’s plenty of strays wandering around the neighborhood. I’m sure we can pick one up for cheap.

132. Yeah, well, at least I don’t have to hide in a coffin till the sun goes down.

133. Damn straight, Gallagher.

134. I, Mikhailo, take you, Ian, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish you till death do us part.

135. Good morning, Mr - Millagher?

136. You hungry?

137. You wanna go again? -Absolutely.-

#ok i'm pretty sure this was legit #sorry yall #i had to #i know you're definitely gonna read all through this #even though yall know every word by heart #we deserve this #shameless #shamelessus #gallavich #gallahitched #gallavich wedding #ian x mickey #mr gallavich #mr millagher #shameless 10x12 #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #Shameless season 1 to 10

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thewhizzyhead · 3 years ago

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Hey, your misfits musical thing sounded super super interesting! Any other details about it that you're willing to share? Minor plot points? Gay Relationship stuff? :0

oh boy this is gonna be long *cracks knuckles* here we go

SO FUN BACKSTORY BEFORE I GET TO THE PLOT PARTS TJXJJS: my sunday school has a tradition of um holding productions of christmas musicals every december. My teachers would find american christian christmas kiddy musicals productions on youtube and then basically um translate all the dialogue to Filipino (the songs stay in English) and have us um reenact the whole thing and ngl it was a lot of fun! I even acted as some of the main roles there when I was like 10-13 so um I can kinda say that I have some experience with musical theatre YAYYY (jk jk that doesn't really count djsff).

When I was around 12-13 years old, I became obsessed with A Very Potter Musical and wondered what it would be like to make AVPM but Christmas so that my church could perform it (very silly idea but shh i was 12 and I was obsessed) and then over time a plot that Was Definitely Not Harry Potter started to form and them um here we are fjsjd so thank you Starkid for making me go down this hellhole

Oki backstory over, now here comes the very long part:

(Also um warning this musical concept involves a lot of religion talk since majority of the thingy is me criticizing a lot of the hypocrisies in religious institutions here based on my experience so um yea proceed with caution if ur sensitive to religion-related stuff)

p.s. ari i am so so sorry but this is so fucking long and definitely more than what you asked for so um yea goodluck fjxjsjf

SO BASICALLY Misfits is about 5 "narrators" - these guys serve as the "floor directors" of the show and um yea they make sure that the plot actuall happens and everything goes exactly according to the script given by the church higher ups or "producers" - who have to bring 3 teens branded by their church as "Misfits" back to Bethlehem 1 CE in order to "teach them a lesson about God" aka convert them to Christianity thus removing the "Misfits" branding. (Also they can only go back once they successfully arrive at the manger because um that's how the producers want it to be tjxjs)

I have to emphasize that although this tackles a lot of stuff related to Christianity and religion as a whole, this really isn't a Christian Musical and that this very morally questionable mission (through the power of Stage Magic and Super Powers, the Narrators essentially bring the Misfits back to the past against their will for the sake of completing their mission) goes horribly, horribly wrong very very quickly.

Throughout the course of the musical, the 5 Narrators struggle to stick to the given script and get their mission done as the 3 Misfits prove to not only be very freaking stubborn but also quite insightful as well as they bring up really good points in regards to religious hypocrisies and socially questionable, prejudiced and backward views commonly held by most religious institutions here i.e gender roles, homophobia, the demonization of science and technology at times, elitism and classism, etc etc (i can only speak in behalf of the Philippines so um yea Philippines). Overall, this is kinda a case study on as to how religion can influence and shape people's mindsets for either the better or the worse and how it is often used by the authorities to simultaneously give hope to the people (especially those of the poorer sectors wherein because of how hopeless the present seems here because a very flawed system kept in place by the exploitative privilged here, they choose to just trust in God instead and also hope that the afterlife is much much better than this shit) while also keeping them in line and like preventing them from rioting. (Church and politics undeniably go hand in hand here even though we have legislations enforcing the separation of the church and state and um yEA THIS WHOLE THING HAS BEEN VERY PROMINENT THROUGHOUT PHILIPPINE HISTORY AND WE CAN ALL THANK THE SPANIARDS but um anyways that'll be a rant for another day)

On a more personal and emotional aspect, this thingy also tackles a lot of stuff I find rather common among kids my age, especially those who had a very Christian upbringing (aka 99.9% of the philippine population tjxbdbf). There's a lot of questioning involved in regards to one's faith, sexuality, perspective and purpose in life and all that fun stuff and how oftentimes said questioning is discouraged due to the church (and ph society overall) wanting us to just like um sTICK TO THE STATUS QUOoOoO and just comply with what is seen as appropriate and godly cause anything out of the ordinary is ngl treated like it's heresy. (YES THERE WILL BE A LOT OF SELF PROJECTION HERE)

One final and important thing to note is that the show is essentially a musical-inside-a-musical in a way fjsjf I originally designed this thing to be like um produce-able on my church's stage (because they were supposed to help me produce the first version of misfits which um yea that's def not gonna happen now tjxjdv) which um kinda looks like the OG Spring Awakening Stage (and yes Misfits is very much inspired by Spring Awakening God I love that show) which is why the show is kinda stylized like a concert with handheld mics and all wherein um the 5 narrators are aware that they are putting on a show to the point of even directly addressing the audience a lot while the 3 Misfits (except for 1 which i'll get to in a bit) aren't aware that they are in a show. The three do eventually find that out and that's when all hell breaks loose to the point that the "producers" (represented by Hades-ish voices) have to intervene by literally changing and manipulating the show's setting and plot to make sure that their script gets followed and that's when the characters really try to break the show to get out of it bUT THE POINT I WANNA MAKE HERE IS THXJD keeping in mind that I had initially planned for Misfits to be produced by my church prior to the many drastic changes, the show the narrators were putting on (aka the musical-inside-the-musical) was made with the intention to pander to a Very Religious Audience. Successfully convincing people to convert to Christianity, especially those of the youth, is what many religious audiences want to see and that is exactly what the "producers" have written for the 5 "narrators and floor directors" to enact. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a Christian and preaching the Gospel and bringing in new believers isn't essentially a bad thing; if they want to believe in the religion then woo good for them! But, such preaching becomes detrimental when you take away one's agency and basically force them into Christianity by means of guilt tripping and manipulation which is sadly very much a reality here (again, a rant for another day) and a representation of such is shown here in the show where um the 3 Misfits were basically forced into this show that 5 Narrators are putting on and, through the influence of the 5 Narrators, the 3 Misfits have to decide to become "good Christian youths" for the show to conclude because that's show the "producers" have written. So when the 3 Misfits stubborness goes to the point that even the 5 Narrators start questioning the morals of their mission, that's when the show starts to go off-script and that's when the production starts to like umm "break" and whenever that happens, the "producers" start speaking to the Narrators, reminding them that they have an audience that they need to please and a message that they need to convey.

So while the Misfits (2 of them, at least, cause um the third one has um yea i'll get to him in a bit) mainly focus on figuring out what in the everliving fuck is going on (while also dealing with their um unfortunate circumstances, childhood trauma, a shit ton of guilt and the concept of salvation and self-forgiveness), the Narrators are tasked with the burden of carrying the show and making sure that the audience finds it appealing while trying to convince themselves that what the church wants them to do is "right" and what the Misfits keep telling them is "wrong" ala um Holier-Than-Thou mindset. Once they eventually start becoming more willing to see the true nature of both the Misfits and the Producers despite the fear of disappointing everyone who's watching, that's when the Narrators and Misfits all start breaking the show by going off-script and completely destroying the plot and production that the Producers have made for the audience - thus making a statement of refusing to comply with a flawed system for the sake of audience approval while also making the first step to fixing that system for the good of all.

Also fun fact: Although it'll make my job a lot harder because I am more fluent in English than in Filipino, i wanna write the thingy in both English and Filipino fjxjdf the dialogue can be Taglish but um the songs that are "part of the script" aka what the Producers want the characters to sing are in English while the songs that aren't part of the script are in Filipino; songs that are both in Filipino and in English are um i guess indicative of the struggle to follow the script while also trying to do what you believe is right (an example of a song with that style is Interpretasyon - which means Interpretation and um Ezekiel (one of the Misfits) sings in Filipino while Joshua (leader of the narrators) sings in English and um just imagine Wallflower cuz IT IS VERY MUCH LIKE WALLFLOWER GJDJNF) and um yea i kinda imagine it to be some sort of rock-pop musical concert thingy so um woo thank you pma for once again influencing my work

SO ANYWAYS UM THAT WAS LONG SO LET'S GO TO THE GAY SHIT

Okay so far 4/8 of the characters here have queerness directly related to their individual plotlines here but um yea honestly i'm tempted to make all of them queer CAUSE IT'S FUN oki so um anyways on to the character dynamics (I won't be able to include more in depth descriptions because im hungry and GOD THIS IS LONG so um yea)

June & Anna (Narrator 2) - oki so June here is one of the Misfits and she's from the poorer sectors (i'm still working on her backstory to make it more believable but um yea) and she isn't able to go to school due to having to prioritize providing for her family first. Due to a very unfortunate childhood event (one that involves Zack, another Misfit), she had to grow up fast and now appears to have a rather jaded view of the world. Anna, one of the Narrators, is the very opposite of that - she's privileged and wealthy-as-fuck and seems to be very optimisitc and friendly. However, ever since she has been blackmailed by her own churchmates for merely questioning her sexuality (true story), she became a more reserved and emotionally closed person despite her very friendly and cheerful demeanor. So when she finds out that June's music carries a lot of beautiful insight and hope in spite of her unfortunate circumstances (the two girls bond over music btw that's how Anna got June to trust in her), she becomes confused because how can June, a girl who has nothing, not even faith, still have hope that she'll be able to find some semblance of happiness while Anna, who has everything, has such a downtrodded view of the world? So um basically their dynamic will also consist of Anna checking her privilege, June explaining how good people turn against the world when the world turns against them (YES A LOT OF TALK ABOUT POVERTY AND HOW THAT IS A RESULT OF CAPITALISTIC EXPLOITATION) (yes June will talk about that a lot), and um what it means to hope with or without faith and what it means to trust another and oneself again. Oh and also lots of philosophy talk and emotional expression through music wie

Zack and Mikael (Narrator 3) - Zack, another Misfit, is a childhood friend of June and a younger stepbrother of Ezekiel (the third Misfit). After Zack and June lost contact after the 'unfortunate childhood event' (i am not sure on what exactly it'll be but in the earlier drafts a fire burned both of their homes and killed both of their dads and rn I have a song concept describing that called "Umaapoy" which means "Burns" but i dunno i'm still working on it), he became best friends with Mikael and um yea said best-friendship was Definitely Not Platonic. After a picture of them kissing was sent to not only the school principal but to basically everyone in the school, both of their parents were called to the principal's office which led to both of the boys moving to different schools to um mitigate the damage i guess gjdjd while Zack's mom eventually learned to accept her son's sexuality, Mikael um wasn't so lucky - I'd say he went through um a lot of religious intervention almost akin to conversion therapy which then um yea has caused him a lot of internalized homophobia and um yea Mikael and Zack haven't been able to talk or even chat in about 3-4 years so imagine Mikael's surprise when he found out that his mission involved Zack - who does not and cannot recognize Mikael because welp not part of the script. Zack, a bit braver now, takes a liking to Mikael and wants to at least be friends with him partly because he somehow finds him really familiar while um Mikael tries to maintain a strictly professional demeanor out of fear that Zack will recognize him and out of fear that he'll fall in love with Zack again. Their dynamic will also include um learning to trust one another and oneself again (like June & Anna's dynamic), to learn how to be brave and be sure in one's beliefs (Mikael um doesn't really speak up that much out of fear while Zack is not only outspoken, but is also an activist - this is another one of the many reasons why Zack is branded as a "Misfit" aside from the fact that he's gay and um yea Ezekiel spends almost 2 minutes berating Joshua for this out of pure anger and disgust), and what it means to reconnect with the past and to forgive oneself (although that is much more expounded upon with June & Zack's dynamic).

Ezekiel and Joshua (Narrator 1) - SAY HI TO THE RILEY AND CAIRO DYNAMIC WOOOOOOO but yea ari dude your analysis on Riley and Cairo (and Kate) being the Main MAIN characters and everything about cheerwives gave me a lot of think about and SO I PUT IT IN HERE WOOOOOO so basically um Ezekiel is the older stepbrother of Zack and the first of the 3 Misfits to figure out that they are in a show. He figures this out because he recognizes Joshua aka the leader of the Narrators aka his former churchmate and ex-bestfriend. He also realizes that they are in a show because he recognizes their tricks which he knew about because he had participated in these missions before as one of the Narrators (Joshua and Ezekiel are older than the rest of the cast and the other narrators don't know that Ezekiel was once a Narrator as well). Due to an Unfortunate Incident (that i'm still working on) 3 years prior to the events in the show, Ezekiel cut off all ties to the church but he is still viewed as this "perfect role model golden boy" which is why the 4 Narrators were shocked to find out that Ezekiel was part of their mission. Joshua, knowing that the real reason to his sudden involvement is due to "producers" somehow finding out their secret about the Unfortunate Incident, lied and told the others that he was just included to make converting his brother a lot easier, which they believed. Out of all the narrators, Joshua is the one who tries his best to stick to the script the most because he knows that if he doesn't, the true nature of that Unfortunate Incident will not only be revealed to his companions but to everyone else watching. Meanwhile Ezekiel, who doesn't know that him being involved in this mission is some sort of um penance for his involvement in that Unfortunate Incident, tries his hardest to sabotage he show by being the most outspoken when pointing out a lot of hypocrisies within religious institutions and in ph society in general (he refuses to tell the other two that they are in a show though because if that happens, he knows the Narrators, Joshua especially will um get very heavily scolded by the producers and despite everything, he still cares for Joshua a lot). I'd say that these two are the ones that push the plot the most - one wants to push the show accordingly to plan in order to please the audience and the producers and in order to not let his and Ezekiel's secret go out while the other wants to push the show off-script in retaliation against the producers (and yes the Unfortunate Incident involved the time travelling thingy which is why he really wants to sabotage this). In fact, these two have 2 duets that are basically them trying to convince the other to go along with their plan ("Interpretasyon" which means Interpretation and "Sikreto" which means secret). This dynamic involves um yea trying to convince the other to switch sides gjxjd and um reconciliation, responsibility out of guilt, and what it means to forgive oneself (forgiveness is a common theme here) and to start to heal from trauma and to not deny the existence of said trauma any longer.

NOW ORIGINALLY I REALLY DID NOT INTEND THE JOSHUA AND EZEKIEL DYNAMIC TO BE GAY BUUTT WHEN I WAS THINKING OF THE LYRICS, I REALIZED THAT OUT OF CONTEXT, IT SOUNDED VERY GAY SO UM HERE'S AN EXCERPT OF SIKRETO (still not finished writing the thingy)

Joshua: (singing to Ezekiel) (this is also the first time Joshua sings a Filipino solo so this is him breaking the script for the first time) (also um yea the translations aren't direct translations cause I wanted to make them rhyme fnxnf) (So to those who know filipino i am terribly sorry cause yup this isnt an accurate translation fjfjd)

Ang natitirang alaala ay aking binura (I have scrubbed away all the memories that may have still remained)

‘di ko na sila kilala (I don't know them anymore)

Kinalimutan na kita (I have forgotten about your name)

Ngunit ang bigat ng pagsisisi ang aking dinadala (But the weight of regret, I carry all the same)

Ang sakit sa balikat, lagi kong dinarama (I constantly feel the sting of my shoulders' pain)

Pero masasabi ko pa rin na sinusubukan kong itama (But at least I can say, I tried to right-)

Ang aking mga pagkakamali (all that's wrong)

Ikaw, saan ka pumunta? (What about you? Where in the world have you gone?)

Tumakbo ka lang at iniwan mo ako (You ran, you just ran, and left me behind)

Sa pagbubuhat ng kasalanan at sikreto (In carrying the sins and secrets, and you paid me no mind)

Pero pinapanatili ko paring malinis ang ating munting kwento (But I stillade sure I kept our little story clean)

Patuloy na sinisigurong ‘di nila malalaman ang totoo (I kept on making sure the truth would never be seen)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam na natin ang kwentong kailangang itago (We know the story that we need to hide)

Itong munting sikreto ay kailangan burahin (This little secret that has to be erased)

Ating pagkakamali, patuloy na bubuhatin (We will have to always carry, our sins and our mistakes)

Alam na natin ang kwento (We already know the story)

Alam natin ang katotohanan ng nakaraan (We very well know the truth of the past)

Ito'y nakabakas sa isipan, ‘di natin malilimutan (We'll never forget what will remain ingrained in our minds)

At sa Diyos na lang natin mahahanap ang kapatawaran (And from only God could we find forgiveness for what we left behind)

Habang buhay bubuhatin ng konsensiya (Forever will our consciences bear the weight and carry

ang ating pagkakasala, ang kwento't sikreto nating dalawa (our sins kept in secrecy, the story of you and me)

Pero ngayon, ‘di ko alam paano pero nalaman nila (But now, I don't know how, but somehow they know)

At ngayon, dinedemanda na nila ang penitensya (And now, penitence is what they demand)

Kaya ngayon, naghihingi ako ng pasensiya (So now, patience and forgiveness is what I ask)

Sa iyo at sa kanila (From you and from them)

Sa aking gagawin at mga nagawa (for what I'll do and I've done)

Baka nga (Perhaps)

Tama nga mga sinabi mo (What you've said all this time is right)

Na ‘di tayo ang tanging may sala rito (That we aren't the ones only at fault here)

Pero ‘di ko matatakasan ang aking naging tungkulin (But I can't really escape my little role here, because)

Sana ‘di mo nakalimutan: lahat sila nakatingin (God I hope you haven't forgotten: they're all looking at us)

Lagi silang nakatingin (Always looking at us)

Kahit ano man ang iyong gawin (No matter what we do)

Tayo'y mananatili sa entablado (On the stage we shall stay)

At lahat sila nakatingi- (And the stares still won't go awa-) (He then realizes that he's on stage and Should Not Be Having A Breakdown In Front Of The Audience Because Duh and Because That's Not Part Of The Script)

SO UM YEA IN RETROSPECT SOME OF THOSE LYRICS COULD ALSO REFER TO SOME SECRET NOT-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP THAT THE AUDIENCE DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT YET (because the Secret doesn't get revealed til much later) WHEN IN ACTUALITY IT'S ABOUT THE TRUTH BEHIND WHAT HAPPENED 3 YEARS PRIOR TO THE EVENTS IN THE SHIW AND NOT GONNA LIE,,, THEM BEING IN A NOT-SO-PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP KINDA ALSO WORKS SO I'M CONSIDERING MAKING THEM HAVE SOME ROMANTIC HISTORY TOO JDHXBSJF

Oki that's all for today hdhdh there are two more characters (narrators 4 and 5) but i'm still working on them and i kinda wanna make the both of them not cis cause WHY NOT also i have been typing this for like 6 hours now and i'm tired and hungry so tjjxjs anyways if you read to the end, I'm sending you carbonara-

#I HAVE TYPED THIS #FOR 6 HOURS #I AM SO FUCKING TIRED GJXJSJJD #ARI I AM SO SO SORRY I WAS NOT EXPECTING FOR THIS WHOLE THING TO BE THIS LONG #but i guess thats what happens when you work on a thingy for 4 years fjsjf #FBZJSJJF ARI MY DUDE UM GOODLUCK AAAAAAA #God i hope you make it to the end gjxjdjf #um feel free to like reblog this in the tags if you wanna express ur thoughts there! i'd love to know what you think about this clusterfuck #the same goes for anyone woo feel free to rb if u wanna!!#SO ANYWAYS I AM TIRED AND WILL NOW EAT CARBONARA #once again ari i am so sorry jfhxhf #ari! (wattblr tag rambler yay!)#ask me stuff #izzy's rambles and shit #religion tw #ask to tag

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

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The Marriage Project (1)

Omg I can’t believe it’s taken me THIS long to post this. I wrote this chapter probably in like April or May and it freaks me out to finally post but here it is!

My slow burn (American) High School AU with Tom Holland!

All the general info for this series is on the story masterlist, but I’ll list warnings and word counts on every chapter. Chapters will be much longer than my typical 2000 or less babies

Warnings: This will become a mature story in the future (no smut; more info on masterlist). Some profanity in this chapter

Word Count: 4140 (I told you!)

% approximately the 2nd week of August %

Ah, senior year. One last year of high school, one last year of seeing the people you’ve grown up with every day.

You’ve been told it’s easy. The best year ever. And yeah, maybe it will be. It’s not like you’re taking too many hard classes or overloading yourself with extracurriculars, aside from volleyball, soccer, the National Honors Society, and quiz bowl.

(Okay maybe it was a little much, but you loved it anyways)

The only real problem was the certified thorn in your side, Tom Holland.

He’d essentially been your mortal enemy since the sixth grade when he beat your mile time by only a few seconds.

Now, it’s not that he was a bully or anything, he was just so insufferable to be around. And yes, everyone always says boys pick on girls when they like them, but rest assured that wasn’t the case. You’d both always hated each other, nothing more.

You were always competing, and because of that ended up in the same place a lot.

He was in all your honors classes, in NHS, played boys soccer, and did quiz bowl. The only thing you had to yourself was volleyball except, oh wait, his younger brother’s girlfriend was on the team and Tom was his ride home every day.

All these thoughts raced through your head as you walked in on the first day, sitting down in AP calculus as soon as you finished up at your locker.

Everyone did the “how was your summer?” and “long time no see!” as students filed in. Eventually walked in Tom, and you shot each other a glare as he sat down right next to you.

“Holland.”

“Y/l/n.”

Everyone around you groaned. They all knew you two were forces to be reckoned with and probably dreaded spending another year listening to the two of you bicker everyday.

Though you were often in close proximity, you never really talked much, except to argue. Rarely did you agree unless it was on basic facts, and even then was it hard to admit sometimes.

Because of this, you typically resigned yourselves to only speaking when it came to grades so you could keep a mental tally of who was in the lead. You were both in the running for valedictorian at the end of the year, and you were not about to let Tom win.

The week was almost over and things had gone smoothly for the most part.

Sure, you and Tom had had a couple of spats, but nothing that wasn’t handled quickly.

He’d been to all of your volleyball games so far, even the summer ones, which meant he was forced to watch you dominate the court as both a setter and right side hitter.

It was a nice little satisfaction.

Especially because you’d watched him throw some horrendous passes in the preseason football game last week that led to a loss by one touchdown. (Okay, he’d had some good passes too, but they were lucky shots).

You settled into your seat in senior home economics Friday before lunch. The class was your school’s attempt at teaching some life skills for rising adults. For the most part however, it was a glorified cooking and sewing class. You didn’t mind per say, since you could cook up a pre-snack lunch sometimes.

Most of your friends were in there, including your best friend Alexis, whom you hadn’t seen all morning.

You, Alexis, and two other girls stood around a mixing bowl with the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies since it was a Friday, which Mrs. Flynn called “dessert day.”

“Oh! Before I forget,” your teacher, Mrs. Flynn, started getting everyone’s attention. “This year we’re doing something new for this class! Next week I’ll have you all split into pairs for a semester long marriage project! I will be drawing names out of a hat, so don’t get too comfortable yet. Anyways, be thinking on what kinds of careers you might want and things of that nature! Okay, now get back to your desserts!”

The whole room broke out into chatter the last part of the hour-and-a-half class, people speculating who might end up with who and what jobs they’ll get.

“Oh my God, wouldn’t it be funny if y/n got Tom?” Alexis stated as you stirred chocolate chips into the dough. The other girls laughed as you just snorted.

“Yeah, I’d rather lick the inside of the microwave than be paired up with him for a semester,” you replied, earning more laughter from your friends.

You assumed Tom’s friends were saying the same however, because when you looked over to see how bad their dough looked, he was rolling his eyes as his group pointed in your direction.

The next week came and went, and it was once again Friday. Or, as Mrs. Flynn was calling it, Wedding Day.

Every time she’d pull a couple’s name, she was going to make you both come to the front of the class and exchange plastic wedding rings and sign a fake marriage license.

Yay.

Everyone chattered excitedly as she tore up the strips with your names and mixed them around. Finally the time came for her to start the drawing.

“Okay, friends. First up we have...” she drew the first name. “Katherine and... drumroll please?”

The class drummed their hands over their thighs.

“Chris! Come on down folks, let’s get this marriage on!”

She “married” the first couple, and then continued to draw. You had to admit that you were a little nervous, but still eager to see who you’d get.

Two couples later, she pulled Tom’s name.

You shot him an eyebrow raise to which he returned a discreet middle finger. You rolled your eyes as you prepared a drumroll for Mrs. Flynn.

“And his lucky partner is... y/n!”

“What!” you both exclaimed simultaneously.

Almost the entire class burst into laughter.

“Mrs. Flynn, this has to be a mistake,” you said.

“Yeah, can’t we have a redraw?” Tom asked.

You hated that he was agreeing with you.

“Nope! You get who you get and you don’t throw a fit! And if it doesn’t work out in a few weeks we can discuss divorce plans.”

“How about annulments,” you stated dryly, earning a chuckle from her.

“That… kinda depends on if you have kids,” she trailed awkwardly before perking back up. “Now come on down! They always say your first marriage is the most memorable!”

“Who has ever said that?” Tom asked.

“You know. They. Now just get up here and do the ring thing!” she commanded.

You both sulked up to the front of the room.

“Okay, now stand here facing each other and hold hands.”

“Do we have to?” Tom whined.

“Yes, now do it and it’ll be over with faster.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes, and grabbed your hands, holding them loosely.

“May I have the rings please!” Mrs. Flynn asked Caroline, the girl whose desk was closest that she’d asked to be designated ring bearer. She handed over the basket to let you both choose from the mix.

You took a silver colored ring with a faux white diamond in the shape of a star. Tom chose one with an oval “ruby.” You couldn’t help but notice how every single person was on edge watching the two of you.

“Okay now Tom, repeat after me. I, Tom Holland, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

He mumbled through the vow, avoiding eye contact, and slipped your star ring onto your finger. You were surprised at how gentle he was, carefully caressing your hand and making sure the ring faced straight up once it was on your finger.

You, too, said the lines and placed the ring onto his left hand.

“Alright. It is with the power vested in me by this very school that I am proud to now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now air kiss!”

You took a deep sigh and pretended to kiss each other's cheeks.

“Class, I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. and Mrs. Holland!”

They began to cheer and clap and laugh when you interjected.

“Uh, no. It’s Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n.”

Tom began to argue with you when Mrs. Flynn stopped you both.

“Alright fine, we’ll do a combined name. How’s the y/l/n-Holland family sound?” she asked, writing your names on the fake marriage certificate.

With reluctance, Tom agreed to having your name first and you both signed the paper.

Finally you were able to sit back down where your friends were waiting.

“So what was that about licking the microwave?” Alexis asked.

“Oh shut up.”

After your volleyball game (another win!), you and Alexis conversed over cheese fries at your favorite diner.

“Still not ready to talk about today?” she asked. You shook your head.

Alexis had been paired up with Caroline. They were both straight, but you had both been friends with her since freshman year and they got along well.

Today had just been the marriages, and next week you’d be learning more about your family dynamics.

“I’m just so pissed at him. This afternoon in senior art he told all the guys in there that he was going to make it as hard as possible for me. I mean jokes on him, he’s going to want to get an A too, but he was just so smug about it. He also strung his stupid ring on that necklace he’s always wearing. What’s that all about?”

“I mean you’re still wearing your ring. But yeah, that is a little weird.”

“I’m wearing mine because compared to some of the others, the star is actually cute.”

“True. I got unlucky with the selection,” Alexis admitted, digging hers out of her purse to show you a big square blue gem.

“I just wish there was a way to get back at him after all these years. I mean, we’ve been at each other’s throats for almost six years but nothing has ever seemed to really hit hard. This is the last year I’ve got to really make it count.”

Alexis gave you a look, one you knew to be quite mischievous.

“You know what’s the best way to get revenge on a guy?” Alexis asked.

“Uh, no, but by the look you’re giving me it seems to fall under Carrie Underwood ’before he cheats’ directive.”

“No, dumbass. You make his family fall in love with you.”

It took a second to process what she said before you could give a decent reply.

“You’re kidding right? His family already knows who I am because of all the stuff we’re in together. They probably also know about our rivalry. I mean, he’s told his brothers to never become friends with me.”

“And you know that, how?”

“The libero is Sam’s girlfriend. She’s been spilling tea for me for the past year.”

There was a break in the conversation as the waiter brought your meals out. Once he was gone, you spoke up again.

“Look, do you really think that would work? I mean sure I’d get under his skin, but it doesn’t really constitute revenge, does it?”

“Look at it this way,” Alexis put down her burger so she could splay her hands out in front of her. “If you can get on everyone else's good side, they’ll all talk about how much they love you and he’ll be forced to listen. If he really hates you, it’ll drive him crazy.”

You thought on it for a minute as you chomped on a chicken tender.

“Alright, I’m in. If it doesn’t end up working, I still have all of next semester to mess with him anyways. Now if I can just figure out how to really get to know his family…”

By the time Monday rolled around, you and Alexis had done some more scheming, but your plan wouldn’t even begin to be put in action until your volleyball games Wednesday and Friday, when you’d try to talk to Sam.

You sat down in home ec, where today you’d be picking careers. The catch, however, was that your family unit would have a set income, so each couple had to decide how it would be split up.

“Y/l/n-Holland family, you’ll be making $200k a year,” Mrs. Flynn announced, handing you the slip of paper. “Get together and decide who’s getting what jobs.”

“At least we’ll be rich,” you thought as Tom plopped into the seat next to you unhappily.

“So I’ll be the doctor and you’ll be the trophy wife, right?” he asked immediately.

“Hah, good one. I think we all know that I’m the smarter one here and wayyyy more likely to get into med school than you. And don’t call me trophy wife. I mean, what, you think I’m hot now? Can’t wait to tell everyone that little number.”

His ears turned beet red and he balled a fist.

“I don’t think you’re hot, except maybe hot shit. It’s a figure of speech.” he spat.

“Oh get over yourself. I know I’m hot anyways. Let’s just both pick jobs that earn $100k so we can be equal. How’s that sound?”

“Fine.”

He played with the plastic ring on his necklace as you looked up jobs on the computer. After a half hour of searching, Tom and you decided that to be fully equal, you’d both take the same job as physician’s assistants.

“Just so you know, I’ll never actually be anyone’s assistant,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Ten years time if you’re lucky I’ll hire you as mine.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Hey everyone, since class is almost over, we’re gonna wait to draw how many kids you’ll have and other financial things Wednesday. See you then!” Mrs. Flynn called out as students packed their things.

“We have to have kids, too?” Tom asked incredulously.

“Good thing it’s fake. I’d hate to see you as a parent,” you shot smugly, earning another middle finger from him that left you laughing.

Wednesday came kids, and thankfully all you got were twin girls, age 9. The project didn’t make you carry around flour babies or anything like that, you just had to account for them in your weekly budgets.

There goes the annulment plan, though.

Each week, Mrs. Flynn would be drawing something new for you all that would either be good or bad for your budgets, and it was up to you to figure out what to with the funding, or lack thereof. You also had to come up with a story each week that explained why money was put somewhere or what your “family” did that week.

She would also be doing progress checks, so you couldn’t wait until the end of the semester to do all the work. By the end, each couple would have to give a presentation over what they did and learned.

“Okay, so we each get to name one. That’s pretty equal,” you stated, thinking up baby names.

“Well I like Elizabeth,” he almost immediately replied, writing it down on one of the “birth certificates” you’d been handed by Mrs. Flynn.

“That’s… surprisingly good. I’ll go with Francesca. What about middle names? I like Rose.”

“Hm. How about Opal? Then they’ll have the same number of letters in their names.”

You were surprised at how much though he put into this, but let it go as you wrote your child’s name down.

“By the way, we need to plan time to get together and write a budget and find a house this weekend. I have a volleyball game Friday so how about Saturday?”

“I have football practice Saturday.”

“Well yeah but only until like 10 right? We could just meet at like 1. We’re doing construction at my house right now so could we do it at yours?”

You spoke sweetly in an attempt to receive a yes and put your plan into motion. Tom sighed and thought about it.

“I mean I guess. But you’re only going to be there to work on the project and then leave right?”

“Uh, duh. The less time with you the better.”

“Likewise.”

Tom and Sam weren’t at the volleyball game Wednesday, so you had to wait until Friday’s.

Friday was muffin day in home ec, so you thankfully didn’t have to talk to Tom. Instead, you and Alexis discussed the plan of getting Tom’s family on your side as you mixed up batter.

Later that afternoon, you watched from afar as Sam and his girlfriend, Julia, sat on the bleachers speaking. It was still an hour until game time and coach had asked you to round up the girls for stretching.

“Hey, Jules!” you called, jogging over to where she was. “Oh, hey Sam!” He looked at you like you were crazy before responding.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He gave a slight head nod.

“Anyways, coach wants us to start warming up. Wanna be my partner today?”

“Um yeah. Sure. See ya later babe,” she said, giving Sam a quick peck on the cheek before standing up to follow you.

After another win, you were helping take down the net and noticed Julia once again talking to Sam while Tom stood a few feet away looking bored.

“Hey, could you wrap up the net? I need to do something real quick,” you said to another teammate as you headed over.

“Hey, Jules! Solid digs today! You were making my job way too easy,” you joked.

You could see from the corner of your eye Tom look up at you in annoyance.

“Ahaha thanks girl. But I can’t take all the credit. You were on fire tonight. What was that like 15 aces? And your hits? Incredible,” she replied.

“Yeah, you were amazing tonight,” Sam added.

“Ohhhkay we can stop the compliment parade on y/n now. We need to go anyways, Sam, mom wants us home,” Tom interjected, putting an arm out in front of his brother, who was rolling his eyes.

“Alright fine. We still on for dinner tomorrow?” Sam asked his girlfriend. She nodded and they exchanged a quick hug and kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow too, Tom,” you said. “I’ll bring my laptop.��

Sam looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah whatever,” was all Tom could say to you as you strutted off to the locker room.

You stood nervously on the front porch of Tom’s suburban home. You had texted him when you parked but now dreaded actually going inside.

After shifting back and forth for a minute, you finally rang the doorbell.

It was only a few seconds later that the door opened, revealing Sam’s twin Harry. He looked confused.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Harry. Tom and I are supposed to be working on a school project today and he said to come over at this time so...” You awkwardly shifted your backpack straps and looked down.

“Tom! Someone’s here to see you!” he yelled out, making you snort.

He appeared shirtless in the doorway and looked at you blankly.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me? What did you just forget that we have to work on our project today,” you replied, holding up your left hand to point to the plastic ring on it.

“You’re still wearing that? Why?”

“Firstly, the little star is cute. And secondly, you don’t have a lot of room to speak, Tom. Yours is still on your necklace,” you pointed to the chain around his neck, to which he instinctively reached up and grabbed the ring, twisting it between his fingers.

“Touche. Now come on, let’s just get this over with.” He opened the door wider and let you in, locking it behind you.

As he led you down a hall covered in photos towards the stairs, his mom stepped out, almost running into her son.

“Oh, sorry.” she looked at you, “Y/n? What are you doing here? It’s nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Holland. Tom and I have to work on our home ec project and we couldn’t do it at my house.”

“Oh dear just call me Nikki. And I do remember him mentioning something about a project. Are you the one he’s married to? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom tensed up and clenched his jaw while you gave a light chuckle, holding up your left hand again.

“I hate to say it, but yeah. You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of me throughout the semester.”

“Well you kids have fun. And Tom, honey, would it kill you to put on a shirt?”

He went red again and you had to stifle your laughter.

“I was just on my way to do that, mom. Come on y/n,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and dragging you up the stairs.

You turned and waved at Nikki one last time as she called up behind him,

“And make sure to keep the door open!”

He was totally embarrassed by that, and made it a point to shut the door behind him once you made it to his room. Finally you could let out a hearty laugh at his expense as he dug through his drawers and pulled out a simple black t-shirt.

“Finally. I was getting tired of looking at your man boobs,” you quipped, looking around the room.

“Ha ha. Good one,” he shot back dryly.

You were surprised at what his room looked like, though you didn’t know what you’d expected. It was very neat with sleek grey walls. His blue and grey bedding was made up with decorative pillows laid out. On his desk were a few random school papers and a computer, and one shelf held some Spider-Man paraphernalia while another contained medals and ribbons and trophies.

You dropped your backpack to the ground and pointed up at one figurine.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think so,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, no. I’m serious. It’s actually really dope.”

He looked taken aback at your compliment, and even to you it felt weird to be saying that out loud about Tom of all people.

“Oh. Well uh. Thanks. Spider-Man was my favorite growing up. But let’s just get to work.”

After an hour of sitting on his carpet searching for a house and arguing over general money allocations,

“Yes Tom, tampons actually cost like $7 for 30 of them and most girls need at least one box a month. And that’s just one factor of personal hygiene. Do you even condition your hair?”

“I’ll have you know my hair is well moisturized. I just don’t ever have to pay for it.”

You finally came to an agreement on the week’s budget.

Packing up your things, you looked up at Tom who was now sitting on the side of his bed scrolling through social media.

“So next week. Your first game of the season, yeah?” you said, remembering that September was already almost here.

“Oh yeah. You coming? I’d hate for you to see just how incredible I am.”

“Psh whatever. I saw your throws at preseason. But yeah, I’ll probably just rinse off after my volleyball game and head to the field. Gotta see what cuties they’ve got on the other team.”

“Ugh gross. You know you’ll regret saying that when half the school is swooning over me in the stands.”

“The only thing you’d ever see me swoon from is dehydration. And that’s a pretty weak excuse already.”

You stood and Tom got up to lead you back out.

“Oh, I think I know the way. You don’t have to take me.”

“Yeah I do. Gotta keep my eyes on those grubby little fingers of yours. Who knows what you’d do unsupervised.”

Before you reached the door, Nikki spotted you from the living room.

“Done so soon? Wow, good job guys. Come back any time y/n!”

“Thanks, Nikki,” you called back to her, then turned to Tom. “So same time next week? We can do it at my place if you want.”

“Nah let’s just do it here. I’m always exhausted the day after a game and I don’t really want to get up.”

Okay then

“Well, see ya Monday then. Bye.”

You were halfway down the sidewalk when Tom called out, “Be safe,” before shutting the door. You stopped in your tracks in shock, but eventually got into your car.

What really mattered, though, was that you were already on Nikki’s good side.

1 down, 4 to go.

Yay! It’s finished! I really hope you guys enjoy this new series because I’m so excited to share it with you all! Once again, future chapters will have some mature content (s*xual harassment and mentions of assault; underaged alcohol consumption) but those chapters will be explicitly labeled with warnings.

Anyways, thanks for reading and please send an ask or message if you’d like to join my story or permanent tag list!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl,

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #Harry Holland #sam holland #tom holland au #high school!au #high school!tom holland

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mnthpprt · 4 years ago

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Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door. He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation.

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it.

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk.

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire vlad #ikevamp vlad #ikemen vampire charles #ikevamp charles #ikemen vampire faust #ikevamp faust

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cheeseburgersstuff · 5 years ago

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Some Other World

King Steve Rogers x Reader

(Medieval AU)

Warnings: language, (shitty writing...)

Master-list

Chapter 12

Tony was looking at Pepper, who was walking down the aisle with her brother. Everyone was standing looking in awe at the princess. Steve let go of her hand and gave her to Tony, nodding towards him.

No matter how much she tried to not look at him and ignore him, she couldn’t help but notice his wet eyes, he was being emotional at his sister’s wedding. y/n smiled, finding it cute, if the real Steve had a little sister, he would’ve also looked like this one. Walking her down the aisle to her new life, leaving her hand, watching her go with wet eyes.

He went back and stood with everyone else, Catherine went towards him and held his hand. That made y/n roll her eyes. It wasn’t considered good for women to show affection to a man, except for her husband at that time. Watching her medieval self throwing herself on Steve was making her cringe. He always seemed uncomfortable around her but she wasn’t the one to get a hint.

Steve looked towards Catherine and politely took his hand from her. That made y/n smile but she tried to suppress it. The priest’s voice brought her back

“Do you take Petrona as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

“I do,” Tony said without controlling his smile, everyone could see how happy he was. There, she saw the tony she knew. He would also be this happy at his wedding one day.

“Do you take Anthony as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

“I do”

After announcing them as husband and wife, they kissed. It was indeed a shy kiss. It was weird for her, seeing the playboy giving his wife a little shy peck on the lips. After the wedding everyone started to leave the hall, preparing themselves for the night.

y/n also went to her room, seeing Steve coming towards her. What would he want with her now?

After reaching her room, she saw another dress and sighed. When would she get rid of dressing up? She was never the one to dress up. Always roaming around in those big sized shirts covering her tights.

She undressed and laid on the bed in her underclothes. What would happen if she wore those here? They would faint seeing a girl like that. She chuckled thinking about that.

There was still some time until the reception started. She decided to sleep, this was the only way to get rid of her thoughts after a drink, which she doubted she would get here.

A knock on her door made her wake up. She groaned in annoyance, no matter what the world is, real or alternate one, everyone was disturbing her sleep. She opened the door, yawing. Sharon was there with a big smile on her face but seeing her with an open mouth and in her underwear, Sharon gasped making her realize she wasn’t wearing anything. Sharon pushed her inside the room and closed the door. She turned towards her, covering her eyes. “Why aren’t you wearing anything, my lady?” Sharon whispered. “What? you've seen me naked, open your eyes Sharon” y/n chuckled. “No, I have not”. y/n came near her “hmm..what about when you gave me a bath. When I stripped my clothes off my body. You didn’t see me?” y/n whispered in her eyes, making her red with embarrassment. “N..no I have n..not” she managed to say.

y/n smirked looking at an embarrassed Sharon closing her eyes.

She chuckled, “okay, now open your eyes, I know you have seen me. Don’t lie or I’ll make you see me then.” Sharon opened her eyes. She wasn’t looking at her. “I have not seen anything like that. This thing you are wearing is different. A..and if anyone else would see you in this? You..shouldn’t have opened your door in these?” she said, stuttering.

“Oh C'mon now don’t be shy, tell me how am I looking in these? Though they aren’t the sexy ones. I have a lot sexier than these?” y/n didn't realize what she said until Sharon looked at her “you have more? Where?” y/n got quiet, she fucked up again. But it was Sharon, she could handle it. “Umm… I guess. I mean I could have more, in my home. Which I don’t remember.” she murmured

“Anyway, can I wear the earlier ones. Why change every time.” y/n said picking the same one she wore. Sharon took that from her and gave her the fancier one. That dress was indeed beautiful but it looked uncomfortable. The more pretty dress it would be, the more uncomfortable it would be. “You would look pretty. Maybe you could find someone.” Sharon said, with the tone she used earlier to tease her. y/n raised her eyebrow and looked at her. “Well, first, I’m not a royal brat like everyone else here and second, I don't want to get dressed so someone could like me. If they want me, they have to accept me without any dolled up getup.” y/n said making her chuckled. “They would surely like the way you are. But you can’t go like that.” Sharon said pointing towards her naked body. They both started to laugh loudly.

After getting ready again, she turned towards Sharon. “Don’t tell me I look good because I’m not feeling good. How can I even walk in this thing.” y/n complained. Sharon came near her and stretched her lips into a smile, “now, you look perfect. And do not worry about the dress. You’ll feel used to it after some time. I think you should go, everyone would be waiting.”

“Why would anyone wait for me? No one would be waiting.” y/n said. “Um… his majesty, was asking for you?” Sharon hesitantly told her, making her stiff. “Why would he ask for me from you?” “Maybe he wanted to talk to you and he knows I’m your handmaiden that’s why he asked me,” Sharon said with a smile. y/n gulped and started to leave. “You really look beautiful.”

She turned around “thank you,” she said with a smile.

The people there were a lot more than at the wedding. Catherine was talking with Nat and bucky. Tony and pepper, the couple, sitting on the front, receiving everyone’s congratulations. y/n smiled seeing them happy, it was as if they were the real tony and pepper.

She went towards them. Tony looked at her and smiled “look, who is here. The feisty one.” she rolled her eyes playfully. She bowed towards them, making him chuckle. “I am here to give the king and his queen my congratulations.” she tried to say in their accent. Both Tony and pepper laughed, making her laugh too. “Don’t laugh, at least I tried.”

“Thank you,” Pepper said. She didn’t spend time with pepper, considering she was a princess and was busy in her wedding preparations.

She smiled at both of them before leaving. She was looking around when she saw Loki and thor. They came towards her and greeted her “look, my lady. My brother Lukas, my brother which I told you about.`` His voice was loud and energetic. y/n smiled at Loki. He smiled shyly towards her. He was the same but still, there was something in his eyes. An innocence in his eyes which she didn’t see when he was attacking new york.

Thor excused himself to bring something to drink. So it was just Loki and y/n. He was looking everywhere but her. She chuckled “so, tell me about yourself. Lukus. Can I call you Loki? If you don’t mind.” she asked. “Y..yes” he cleared his throat. “I heard you lost your memory my lady,” Loki asked. “Umm.. just call me y/n. And...yes, I'm having some issues with my memory chip” she said laughing. He didn’t understand why she was laughing but he forced a laugh anyway.

Thor came with wine in his hands. “I thought you could have some?” he said, giving her the glass. She never thought she would be this happy by seeing wine.

She instantly took the glass and took a sip. All her excitement went away on the first sip. That was shit. She spilled it without even realizing. “What the fuck is that?” She looked at thor. Both the brothers were laughing at her expressions. “It’s wine.” they manage to say. “That’s shit. I was really hoping to get wasted but no, I’m better off without it,” she said. Another thing added to her most missing things list. Nothing, not a single thing here, she liked except for Steve’s beard.

Thank god she wasn't born in this era.

“You haven’t drunk wine before.” thor asked with amusement. She wanted to scream, for calling that shit wine. She wasn’t a fan of wine but her world’s was much better than this one. “I guess, nothing like this one.” “I also didn’t like it, the first time I drank it,” Loki said with a smile. It was weird seeing him smile.

They were talking when y/n felt someone was looking at her. She looked around but she didn’t see anyone. After a few minutes, Steve came into the hall, and Katherine was with him. A big smile on her face. y/n was looking in their way when steve caught her eyes.

She instantly excused herself and went outside, to breathe in the fresh air. She really needed to control herself. He was a King from another reality, not Steve. Why was she being such a loser? He didn’t give her any look, it was just her imagination. That’s what she was telling her when someone came behind her. First, she thought it was Steve but the voice forced her to turn around. “Ah! Look what we have here.”....

@champagnesugamama

@smilexcaptainx

@ashwarren32

#chris evans #captain america #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #marvel #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #ransom drysdale #captain america x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #king steve rogers #ransom drysdale x reader #medieval au #medieval #time travel #some other world

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Jake Reviews Stuff: Amphibia: Marcy at the Gates

Marcy arrives! The Plantars make it to Newtopia but first have to deal with a slight ant problem and a new addition to the family, as we finally meet the adorkable Marcy. Legs in two months under the cut.

So as you could probably tell by the tone the last few weeks, doing this has weighed on me a bit. While I do love talking about this show week after week, as well as having a recurring series here to bring in readers, the split quality of the Season thus far has been a challenge. Now when I say split I don’t mean like star vs season 3 where it was either really damn good and some of the show’s best writing or “oh god what have they done to marco’s character this time”, it’s more either really good standout episodes ore more forgetable average ones. See a good episode I can gush about, dive into big charcter stuff, motviations, that sort of thing. I defintley will with owl house at some point and have with other shows. A bad episode can be taken apart and taken to the cleaners, which I haven’t done much of but probably should and if you want any taken to task yourself, I do comissions. But self promotion aside, the point is a meh episode just dosen’t leave me with a lot tot alk about and hte recaps became really dry as a result as I just couldn’t find a lot of jokes, and having a busy few weeks on top of that didn’t really help, nor did the antipciation for this week and the intersting setting of newtopia.

Thankfully a combination of a really good few days, a better sleep schedule, and a really good episode this week, and a pile of scary go round collections for a dollar have reinvgorated me, so hopefully I can get back to doing what I love: Overanalizing children’s cartoons. So with that we can dive right into the episode. The keithdavidpocalypse is upon us! Pitter Patter! We open with Spring and Anne in the cart. Their close to newtopia, but Anne is worried they never found Marcy, while Sprig isn’t because her last friend turned out to be “Evil”... which Anne harshly rebuffs. And both sides are understandable: To Anne, Sasha was her friend.. a manipualtive and bossy friend sure but one who genuinely cared for her, she just may not know how to deal with people. To Sprig, Sasha is some asshole who abused his friend, tried to murder his Pop Pop, and works for a guy who tried to murder his whole town. It’s really understandable he woudln’t have the same warm fuzzy feelings Anne has.. insert your own Sashanne joke here. We also get our first actual look at Marcy who to my suprise, rather than be another form of manipulative.. is simply an awkward nerd, constnatly playing video games, reading books , cataloging shit, and trying to get her friends to play d and d. So me if I knew what d and d was in high school.

Anyways, the family finally DOES make it to Newtopia, impressive as you’d expect when the guard won’t let them see the wizard no way no how. Antique references aside, the guard at the gate actually has good reason for not letting them in as they have a tiny barbari-ant problem. A species Hop Pop is, in a nice touch, unfamiliar with due to the Valley not having them. We quickly see them in action as one approaches the plantars, basically a giant ant with ant-lers. Yes I used a pun there sue me. Anyway, our heroes ward off the ant they do find with some really cool team manuvering, and Polly showing she has spiked teeth. It’s a cool sequence. However they quickly find themselves outgunned, outplanned, outnumbered and outmanned. They gotta make an all out stand. Their gonna need a right hand man. Also I finally saw the film version of hamilton, as you can tell. Utterly magic.

Said Right Hand Man, er woman, er tween comes in the nick of time as a cloaked Marcy sprays some black goo and sets it ablaze, scaring the ants off, snatching a stalemate from the jaws of defeat, then rappeling down on a rope shot from a crossbow, also making polly want one because of course. She then.. Faceplants. Still a solid 8/10 entrance Marcy. Marcy is played by Haley Tju who you may remember from such shows as The Loud House. And that’s all I know her from but given Stella’s one of my faviorites and Haley’s performance is part of that, so it’s unsuprising she’s great here. Also fun fact I learned by looking at her trope page: She actually played a younger version of London, brenda song’s character, on the Suite Life I Pray for Death but Death Won’t Come.. or On Deck for those who’ve never watched it. But I like the fact two londons are now on the same show together.. and an actually good noe at that! Horay. But yeah Haley is a great VA and what little i’ve seen her in and a welcome addition. Marcy and Anne happily reunite once htey both realize who the other is, and hug and etc, before Marcy decends on the plantars, talking on and on and on about geeky stuff and how she likes the found family trope. ... I may really relate to this mediums sized child, as I too am a huge nerd with no filter and was probably a lot like her at that age. It’s also clear she very transparently sees this as a combinaton of a video game and a d and d session, but said skills have actually benifited her as rping a rogue allowed her to easily bluff her way into the kingdom’s good graces and now she’s a sworn agent of the king as we’ll find out. She quickly wins over the Plantars, measuring hop pop’s head, gushing over him being a farmer (which he almost instantly adopts her over and asks to point blank later), and then noticing Polly’s legs are about to come in and giving her the note seen in the review image, my faviorite gag. Sprig however is more out and out hostile and has his reasons we’ll get to in a second. Marcy escorts her new family and sorta girlfriend to the makeshift war room set up by three scholoary newts who quickly resolve their planning disagreements by beating the piss out of each other. Just like real politics.. and that’s not a cheeky jab between the actual caning in the sentate that happened once and the various duels in the revolutionary and early america eras.. yeah the only reason the preisdent hasn’t been shot for challening one of hte many people he hates for a duel without realizing he really can’t see through that squint too good is that it’s now illegal and not the kind of illegal he can hide like usual. Anyways after the Newts scoff at our heroes, but Marcy vouches for them and reveals that the ants are getting closer because i’ts gotten warmer....

Marcy has a plan though: Spread scentshrroms around that will release a pheremone which will drive them off, having throughly studied Amphibia’s various flora and fauna and thus knowing how to deal with them. I’ts something I like about the character and how she adds to the other huamns group dynamics. Alll three deal with issues diffrent ways; Anne has plans, but rarely thinks them through, Sasha does think hers through and is a master manipulator while Marcy is a ballance between the two: She does throughly think things out and have well thought out clever plans.. she just also tens to rush into things or go forward with a nose in a book or without a thought to how dangerous soemthing is. She’s prepared, she’s just not very aware of her surrondings, which is amood.

But Anne is nervous about her coming along as is sprig which sets up both’s conflicts with her for the episode: Anne wants to protect Marcy, since she just got her back and her only other remaning friend now clearly wants to stab her and she has a better option now love interest wise. However Marcy convinces Anne, 2nd capefire this episode nonwithstanding, she can handle herself. She also calsl her annabannna which is fucking adorable. The other conflict is that Sprig dosen’t trust her.. he has no rational reason not to give she’s a sweetie, but is a bit gunshy about another human girl working for a dictator popping up in their life. And while he’s probably wrong, while I think Marcy isn’t working for the best people probably she’s likely too oblivious to genuinely relaize she’s doing crimes if they have her doing them or was given a fake justification. I could be wrong, and will gladly eat crow. Metphorically i’m not going to bake a real crow. I don’t have the right seasoning. And i’d also be cursed but eh I doubt I can get poorer. But it’s understandable he has reservations, especially since while he dosen’t say it he’s likely worried Anne will get hurt again. He’s a good boy, he’s just being paranoid over probably nothing. Anyways onoto the plan: The plantars and new girl marcy are gonna:

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Okay phermone them whatever, the point is they head into the Ant Hole, witht he conflicts continuing as the plantars progress; Sprig is naturally suspcious and Anne is worried about her precious gurl. The group fight some more ants, and Marcy seemingly wonders off.. only to instead BLOW THEM A FUCKING TUNNEL with some chemicals from some flowers she found, then instant sprout a plant cage.. and accidently trap polly. NOOOOO.> Thankfully she frees her and tosses some plants on the ants, which is fun to say. We then get to our climax. OUr group find the queen who ihs horrifying.. a good mom as sprig points out but horrfing. Nice design though i’m just.. not an insect guy and sometimes this show leaves me in abject terror. this is one of those times. Our heroes plant the mushrooms, phrasing I know but this review is late as is and i’ve already used up my archer refrence for the day. Anne dives to Save a seemingly oblovious Marcy.. whose mad at Anne over it.. while Anne is udnerstandable Marcy wants her , NEEDS her to understand...

No not that erik. That, much like Anne herself, Marcy’s grown and changed over these past three months. She can handle herself now and she needs her ot see that. Also sprig gets attacked by an ant baby, which not only wakes up the queen, who can hear but can’t see but now knows something’s arry, but causes said queen to unleash a hoarde of ants. Marcy however naturally has a plan: She’ll dive into the queen’s belly and get sprig, the plantars will hold them off and Anne finally trusts her lady enough to fiht off. I don’t have a lot to say I just really like this character arc and Marcy’s character: She’s a bit oblivious, ab it obessed with nerdy things which again relate.. but when push comes to shove she’s also clever, a master planner and has clearly studied her ass off about this world and knows it well. She’s throughly likeable. And that likeablity finally gets through to sprig when she gets him out and swings him. Trust earned, anne’s faith in her gained and the mushrooms go off and send the ants running. Misson Complete. With the mission complete our heroes finally enter Newtopia and meet the mysterious Lady Olivia, whose been sending Marcy on her missions, and is likely her spymaster. Not that i think Marcy realizes that but Marcy’s love of midevil fantasy means she blends in well with thier courty apperance and introduces anne and co to her.. Olvia isn’t impressed but is cordial about it at least.. even with Sprig breaking shit. And yeah , Amphibia has a king over all of it, as Hop Pop puts it “We aren’t savages”. It does make sense it woudln’t come up every day though, it’s not as if the king really cares about the valley... but more on speculation about him in a minute. Hop Pop wisely gives the two “Friends’ some alone time, and the two talk things over: Anne explains how she found sasha.. and it didn’t go great, and Marcy vows that the two of them can go their own way now. Maybe iwth tounge. we dunno. The two then look over anne’s phone while anne recounts her anne-tics.. and we get to the king. And it’s KEITH DAVID BITCHES AS WAS PROHPISED A FEW WEEKS AGO. And he has myserious plans and wood carven figures of both our heroines and possible gaybies. “The game can finally begin. “

Final Thoughts: This was a really damn good episode. Whiel I summarized more than usual , both conflicts were great, all the plantars got to shine, there were gags a plenty, an intriguing new member of the main cast and a mysterious new antagonist. I mean given it was revealed the Newts were behind Toad tower a few episodes back, I figured Andidas wouldn’t be a good guy, even if he’s played by upstanding gentleman and god among men keith david, , but it’s a question of what his end goal is, how the girls got here, and what his plan ofr them is that i’m curious to see play out as the season goes on, as well as see if Marcy is a pawn or not. Newtopia also looks intresting and i’ts nice to have a new solid setting to build on now we’re here, as well as new mysteries to unlock> Ther’es also the honest possibliity marcy, who claims to have found bubkuss, might simply want to stay in a world where she gets to live out her dreams and isn’t picked on or bullied. Again we’ll see all speculation but this episode was damn good. For now this is the clear highlight of the season and i’tll be intresting to see where it goes from here. Until next time courage.

#amphibia #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #hopidiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #marcy at the gates

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catchester · 5 years ago

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Eleven Pipers Piping

Authors: @evieplease and @catchester

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Chapter 14 - 11 Pipers Piping

I turned up at Tom’s house half expecting 11 bagpipers to be waiting for me. I don't know why, flutists or something were probably more likely, but my brain was stuck on bagpipes. Or maybe just men in kilts with bagpipes. Of course the only man in a kilt that my imagination could conjure was Tom. Mmm. Tom in a kilt...

I knew Tom wasn't likely to have literal Pipers Piping, but other than plumbing, I just couldn't think of a play on Piping. Well, unless he wanted me to clean out his pipes, maybe. My eyes widened. Eleven times!? Hmm. It would be a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it...

It was the weekend, so other than emergency calls to worry about, I was free. I’d started using the answering service Tom told me about, and they only passed on genuine calls so I shouldn't have any time wasters.

After being dragged out of Tom’s warm bed, and more importantly out of Tom’s warm arms by a thoroughly plugged drain at six bloody AM this morning, I’d been shopping and making plans for my gift tomorrow.

I’d popped home and packed some clean clothes so I could stay the weekend. Luckily I think most people were still recovering from Christmas and New Years (not to mention that they were probably also much poorer after the holidays) so business was always slow the first week or two of January. Not that I was complaining.

Well, yes. I was complaining. I’d have much rather stayed in bed with Tom! But outside of that complaint, I was doing quite well, all things considered. Tom’s dosing us with Paracetamol and water before bed last night worked a treat. I felt far better than I deserved. And, oh dear god, did I actually sing in public last night?

A post-it stuck to the door said to let myself in, which I did, calling out for him as I dumped my bag on the stairs. Oh my god, what is that wonderful smell?

“In the kitchen,” Tom answered and I followed his voice and my nose.

I was stunned for a moment, as every surface seemed to be covered in baking sheets filled with something that smelled divinely like ginger and sugar.

Tom was wearing his ‘Kiss the Chef’ apron and looking very pleased with himself.

“Did a sack of flour piss you off or do you have a bake sale coming up?” I asked, following the apron’s instructions and then wiping at a smear of flour off my cheek.

“Neither,” Tom chuckled. “This, my darling, is day eleven.” He gestured around at the disaster covering his kitchen counters. Mixing bowls, flour, eggshells, wooden spoons, measuring spoons, spoon spoons, it looked a shambles.

I was still none the wiser.

“We’re piping icing onto gingerbread houses!” Tom nearly crowed, with the biggest grin on his face

It wasn't what I’d been expecting but it sounded fun and a slow smile formed on my lips. Now that I looked at the baking trays, I could see some had a triangle top, so they were obviously the ends of the houses. The rectangles and squares were the roofs and walls.

“Did you bake all this yourself?” I stopped myself calling him ‘clever boy’ at the last moment. I was grinning as widely as Tom.

“I did,” he said happily. “Mum gave me a recipe and talked me through most of it. The first bake should be cool enough now, but I made some spares too, in case of breakages.”

He seemed very proud of his feat, and I was oddly proud of him too. He was practically bouncing on his toes.

“So have you got any I can try?” I asked, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

“You mean eat?”

“Yeah, of course! I wasn’t going to feed it to the birds! They can bloody well make their own!” The scent of ginger was tantalising me and reminding me that my protein bar breakfast had been ages ago. Ages, I tell you!

“Aah, well, yes. I did have a couple of minor mishaps.” He reached behind him and brought out a tray of cracked gingerbread slabs. “I dropped it transferring it to the cooling rack.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his ears went a bit pink, as he held the tray out to me.

I nabbed a piece and tried it. It was lovely, slightly spicier than ginger nut biscuits usually were, but not bad at all.

“That’s bloody lovely!” I told him.

He grinned like a loon at my praise.

“The icing’s nearly ready, I’m just mixing the green now. So why don’t you make us both a coffee and we should be ready to get started.” Tom turned away and my heart melted at the sight of a large floury handprint on the back of his trousers. Something melted anyway. I shook my head.

“Sounds like a plan.”

As I sat at the table, I saw that Tom had three icing bags—two white and one red—ready to go, and a selection of sweets he’d set up in small bowls, next to two piles of gingerbread house components.

“Do you have any experience icing?” he asked as he sat next to me and put the green icing between us.

“Well, icing in the shower sometimes. And I watch that, what’s it called? The Bloody Great Baking Show or something?”

He shook his head at my bad joke and explained how to assemble the house, sticking it together with icing at the seams and along the foundations. It took us a few tries but we eventually had fairly solid structures.

“There, that looks stable,” I said, gingerly removing my hands, afraid a light breeze would collapse my creation.

“No, it looks like a house,” Tom deadpanned. “I’m not nearly skilled enough to bake a stable!”

I laughed. “Fine, next year we’ll get your mum’s help and make a manger scene.”

“What will we make the animals out of? Not to mention the Baby Jesus.”

“Do they make Baby Jesus moulds?”

“I doubt it. We could use marzipan, I suppose.”

“Nuh uh, not unless you want Baby Jesus’s head bitten off.”

He gave me a weird look.

“I love marzipan,” I said, shrugging as if decapitating baby deities was totally normal and defensible.

Tom was focusing on his house so I swiped a bit of broken gingerbread and quickly drew a heart in red icing, then I put a cupid’s bow through it using white icing, and passed it to Tom.

“A sweetheart for my sweetheart,” I smiled.

“Aww,” he said as he accepted it. “I’ve known you a year and this is the first time I’m seeing your sappy, sentimental side.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, make the most of it, it only happens once a year, at Christmas.”

“When the Christmas spirit fills you?”

“Yeah, but I learned to exorcise that bitch years ago, so it doesn't stay for long.

He chuckled. “You can’t fool me any longer Rocky, I know you’re ooey and gooey on the inside, now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You take that back!”

“Nope.” He reached a long arm out, wrapping around my waist and pulling me in tight. “You’re well and truly caught now, love. And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

He laughed maniacally while I struggled to get loose of the entwining octopus tentacles. Well, it seemed as if he had eight arms!

Then he bent and kissed me. Well, what else could I do? I stopped struggling and snogged him back. The octopus magically turned back into a man when he lifted his head and grinned down into my dazed eyes.

“Back to work!” Tom turned, and gave me a little push toward my side of the table, and picked up his icing bag, intently examining his roof before squeezing a judicious dollop onto the corner in an effort to make icicles hanging from the edge.

Fine. I went back to work, carefully shingling my house with smarties.

You would think that piping icing was a relatively neat job but apparently not. At least not when I do it. My gingerbread house looked pretty neat for a first timer, with roof tiles, windows and a pathway outlined in white, green for accents like the window shutters and door, and red for the path to the front door. The house and garden were trimmed with sweets, jelly tots lined the pathway and Smarties accented the roof.

But while my house looked pretty tidy, I did not.

“Look at you!” Tom said, laughing. “You’re a mess! You even have icing in your hair!”

“Don’t sugar coat it, will you?” I shot back, but I wasn't upset. He was right. Luckily I was only in jeans and a sweater.

That didn’t mean I would let him get away with it.

“Aww. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ginger your feelings!”

That did it. Yep.

My house was nearly finished and there was loads of icing left in my bag, so I aimed my nozzle at his head and squeezed the bag with all my might. I was a pretty good shot too, I got him right in the ear!

He turned to me, looking utterly shocked! As well he should, he had a great green blob of icing on his ear!

“Look at you, you’re a mess!” I was nearly crying with stopping myself laughing, trying to sound stern and utterly failing. “You even have icing in your hair!”

“I can’t believe you just did that!” His shock soon turned to a delighted smile and the nozzle of his piping bag turned in my direction.

I fired too, and we doused each other in icing. I grabbed a second bag of icing and ran around to the other side of the table to try and escape Tom. We were both laughing, but fortunately, we both ran out of ammo pretty quickly. We resorted to throwing the empty bags, but by unspoken agreement, we didn't use the gingerbread houses as projectiles.

That left me with only one option, to smush the icing Tom was already wearing. I ran around the table, sliding in some of the icing decorating the floor. I grabbed the lump on Tom’s shoulder and managed to smear it on his face before he could stop me, but then he grabbed my wrists, holding them out wide. While he wasn't a lot stronger than me—thank you manual labour—we were evenly matched, hence stalemate.

Unless I wanted to unman him, and I really didn’t. I like Tom’s bollocks right where they are. And fully operational, thank you!

We both laughed, and Tom leaned down to lick the smear of icing from my cheek as I ducked and shrieked, trying to wipe the wet spit off on my shoulder.

“I can’t believe I’m still having food fights in my 30s!” He shook his head in disbelief, even though he was still giggling.

I was cackling too hard to reply since he had a lovely green smear of icing over one eye. We fed off each other’s laughter to the point that when he released me and I tried again to rub his icing in, my hands were just useless things flopping around on the ends of my wrists.

“Oh god,” I finally managed to say. My sides were aching so much, so I needed to make an effort to calm down. “I can’t believe we did that!”

“We? You started it!” He really does do a very good offended sniff.

“Yes, and you joined in, mate! I wasn’t the only one flinging icing about like a mad monkey!”

We sniggered as we looked around the kitchen, sobering as we both contemplated the clean up, each still giggling occasionally.

“I’m really glad we weren't making bangers and mash! Can you imagine cleaning up the gravy?” Tom glanced up at the ceiling, checking that we hadn’t decorated that as well.

“Maybe I should get Twelve Cleaners Cleaning tomorrow instead?” I said a little wistfully as I stared at our mess. Tom shook his head and sighed.

“Well, we’ve had our fun. Now it’s time to pay the piper, I suppose!”

I picked up a nearby empty, messy bag and lobbed it at him, making a rude noise at him. Piper, indeed!

Tom just looked pleased with himself, smirking at me as he went to the tall cabinet and handed me a mop. After moving our gingerbread houses to place of safety, he grabbed a cloth and began wiping down the table and sides that had icing on them. It was a relatively easy job because it dissolves easily in water. I did the floor twice just to be sure though, and Tom began cleaning up our icing bags and other paraphernalia.

We finished, and I returned our gingerbread houses to the kitchen table so we could better admire them. We both got our phones out and snapped some pictures, so they were immortalized. I’ll be sending the one of Tom standing over his gingerbread house looking as pleased as punch to his Mum.

“Come on, let’s clean ourselves up,” Tom suggested, so we stripped down to our underwear and shoved our clothes directly in the washing machine. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself and dancing it place while I waited for Tom to start the washer. The room was just a bit chilly for prancing around nearly naked.

“You were just looking for an excuse to use the bathtub, weren’t you?” he joked.

“I’m always looking for excuses to get you naked, but your bathtub is a definite bonus!” I said with my best ‘duh’ expression.

He laughed and shook his head at my antics as he headed for the stairs.

“Hey,” I reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He stopped, looking puzzled.

“For this.” I waved my hand around the room “It was really fun. And I mean the houses. I know you baked for hours and I’m sorry you didn't get a chance to finish yours.”

He shook his head and stepped closer, put a hand on my elbow and bent his head to look me in the eye.

“Do you know what I love about you?”

“My boobs?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, nodding ruefully, “but more than that, it’s how fun you make things. Decorating gingerbread houses would have been fun, but you found a way to make me laugh so hard I won’t need to do crunches for a week.” He leaned down and kissed me softly. When he pulled away he had that soft smile on his lips, the one that makes my knees go weak. “I love you, Rocky.”

My heart nearly stopped when he said that, and then it lurched into a pounding rhythm. I was surprised that my feet kept following him, because everything in the universe had stopped and held its breath in the few seconds it took me to open my mouth.

“I… love your bathtub!”

Tom chuckled and started up the stairs, my hand clasped in his. My heart was galloping, my stomach churning, and my head spinning.

Yep. It must be love. Or the flu.

I watched the play of the muscles in his thighs and arse as he climbed the stairs. A sense of joy and rightness bloomed under my ribs, and it wasn’t all due to watching the prettiest piece of English Countryside in all christendom flex and stretch inches in front of my face.

Those three, little, terrifying words had slid smoothly from his lovely mouth, directed at me! And I wasn’t terrified.

Maybe in shock. Except I wasn’t, because I felt the same way. Have done for a while, come to think.

Somehow my friend with benefits, this Posh Idiot, has grown on me, like a fungus. No, wait. Fungus is too low class. Truffle. Definitely a truffle.

Tom dropped my hand and started the shower.

“Better rinse off all the sticky stuff or we’ll be swimming in it in the bathtub, hey?” I nodded distractedly.

He turned and I found myself blankly staring at the second best bit of English Countryside in christendom. Except I was obviously wrong the first time. Or maybe the best bit is whatever bit I happen to be staring at?

Tom put a finger under my chin and tipped my face up. There was a slightly alarmed look on his face.

“What, no wise cracks about ‘sticky stuff’? Are you alright darling?”

I shrugged as I stepped into the shower and straight under the hot spray while Tom stared perplexed after me. The heat felt so good on my chilled skin, I closed my eyes and turned my face up to the water.

Tom stepped in, waiting until I pulled my head out from under the stream of water to ask, “Now, what are you thinking, Rocky?” I wiped the water streaming down my face and pushed my wet hair back.

“You’re a truffle.” Water droplets flew from my lips as I spoke

Tom barked a surprised laugh.

“A what?”

“A truffle. Regular old mushrooms are too common, too basic.”

Tom blinked a few times as he worked it out.

“Ah. You’ve grown on me as well, Rocky.” His smile went a little crooked and his eyes softened. Tom gets me.

In that moment, two things were decided.

The first is that I really needed to stop fannying around and get Tom out to meet my family. Because this doesn’t feel like FWB any longer. I mean, it is. We’re friends, oddly enough. And the benefits are out of this world! But he took me to meet his mother. And his niece. So.

I can’t see Tom introducing a FWB to his niece, now I think about it, no matter how competitive he was about finding a Nine Ladies Dancing activity.

I pushed Tom gently under the shower spray and he tilted his head up, letting the water wet his hair and stream down his face, rinsing the icing off, green and red swirling down his body and into the drain.

Except for the persistent green blob on his ear. I reached up and wiped it away. His eyes blinked open and then his hands cupped my face, staring into it as if memorising me. That was alright, I was doing the same. I wished I had a camera to hand. But water and electronics...not a good combo.

His eyelashes were drawn into those little russet points, wet from the spray, tiny drops of water glinting like minute diamonds in the light. His eyes were sliding into that steel blue colour.

Then his mouth settled softly on mine, moving tenderly over my lips.

I gripped his hips, holding on as I stretched upward on my toes for more, nibbling on his lip. He likes when I do that. Oh, I really shouldn’t be smug when he makes that noise. Really.

His tongue surged into my mouth, caressing and demanding as one large hand pressed against my lower back, pulling me tight against his body and holding my belly against his very hard cock.

His other hand found my boob, a feathering touch of his knuckles on the underside, and circling around and around.

This was Tom, playing my body like an instrument, no, like the whole damn orchestra! Piano and pianissimo, rough and sweet. When he softened his kiss into little teasing licks and kisses and moved down my neck, the hand on my boob squeezed and kneaded firmly, sucking every bit of my attention to the lightning charge building up in my body.

I moved my hands around his body, gripping the hard globes of his arse and feeling the muscles flex under them.

Tom gasped into my mouth and ground his cock against my belly, lighting me up.

I whined and pouted at him when he pulled away, even stamping my foot a little. Dammit, I wanted more kisses! And some other things!

“Patience, my dear,” he counselled cheerily, kissing the tip of my nose. I snapped my teeth at him. That sooo wasn’t the kiss I had in mind! He left me there, getting out of the shower to stopper the tub and start it filling.

“Patience is for people who aren’t snogging you, Thomas!” I called after him. He was back almost before I finished my sentence, chuckling and slipping his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck.

I threw my arms around his neck. “You were gone forever!”

“And yet, here I am!” He smiled and I collected another kiss on my nose. I opened my mouth to complain and yelped as he spun me round back to front and picked up the shampoo.

Tom spent the next year massaging my scalp and washing my hair whilst I moaned and groaned. Things might’ve been happening below, urgent things, but everything waits when Tom’s long fingers dig into my scalp. And when he finished rinsing my hair, he started with the shower gel, cleaning every little, and not so little, bit of me. He really is quite good at that whole massage thing.

Then it was my turn. As tempted as I was to push him down and fall on his dick, I played almost fair, washing his hair in turn. But there was none of that massage nonsense! Tom chuckled when I slapped the shower off as soon as he was rinsed and turned him, pushing him out of the shower ahead of me, and straight over to the tub.

Fortunately, deliciously, Tom’s tub is extra long, and extra deep. Rather like him! So it hadn’t overflowed while we showered off the icing. Also, since I had cleverly talked him into upgrading his hot water heating to a tankless system, we hadn’t run out of hot water, even with both shower and tub going.

I gestured a ta-da at the tub, inviting him to get himself in, but he wasn’t having it. Tom literally swept me up in his arms and deposited me in all that lovely hot water, though probably with a lot more screeching and splashing than planned.

“In, in, get in!” I demanded, running out of patience and slapping the water, sending a wave straight into my face and spluttering while Tom held his ribs laughing hard at me.

This means war! I smirked at him, and laid back, running my hand between my boobs, and trailing a finger around one nipple.

“I guess I’ll just have to take care of things myself…” I said with a put upon pout.

“Oh, be my guest, darling.” He folded his arms with a smirk and leaned against the wall next to the tub for a good view. Tom waved genially for me to start.

Hmm. It’s not like I haven’t fantasised doing this. Many times. The look in his eyes as my hands lifted to drip water onto my boobs sent an arrow of heat through my body. I bit my lip at the sensual feel of my hands on the goospimpling flesh. Circling my boobs with my hands I watched Tom stare hungrily at me.

I might not be a public exhibitionist, but knowing it was Tom watching me turned me right the fuck up to eleven.

Gripping one boob and moving the other hand slowly down my body while I watched Tom’s eyes hood and darken sent a wave of heat over me that wasn’t from the hot water. Oh, not at all.

I slid my fingers into my folds and let my head fall back, concentrating on the sensation of the water washing over the most sensitive bits of me. I let my fingers brush lightly over the inner lips of my pussy, soft and warm and tantalising.

Firming my touch, I gasped as my finger slid over the top of my clit for the first time. My eyes snapped open when Tom groaned.

He stood there watching me, gripping his fully erect cock. I shivered a little at the thrill that his eyes delivered, and the promise in them. He was so beautiful, so hot, and so mine. My eyes wandered over his long runners body, tracing the defined muscles in his thighs, the solid, hard belly, the notches at his hips, the veins standing out on his forearms, and I could feel myself getting wetter.

God, I wanted him, wanted his hands on me, his mouth on me, those hot blue eyes staring into mine. I was picking up a rhythm as I thought about all the ways he could touch me, the water beginning to ripple around my movements.

I wanted him so bad. And I knew, however hot it got me that he was watching, I wouldn’t be able to finish. If I’d truly been alone, imagining Tom watching as I touched myself it would have taken me only minutes to get off, no toys required!

But with Tom there all I could think of was him touching me, and he was right there. I writhed my frustration as I looked at him, communicating my need to him.

“Tom…” I breathed, and he pushed off the wall, climbing in behind me and lifted me onto his lap. His hands closed over mine, pressing harder on my flesh. One hand squeezed my hand over my boob. I could feel my nipple digging into my palm, and his cock like an iron bar at my back. His other hand over mine, travelled down and pushed my finger inside me, along with his.

My head fell back on his shoulder and his lips caressed my neck as he murmured filthy things in my ear about how soft I am, how good I feel, how scalding hot my pussy is when he slides into me. Oh, dear god.

Tom’s hand kept pushing our fingers into me, and grinding our palms over my clit with just the right amount of pressure, and he kept encouraging me and I couldn’t have stopped the freight train barreling right down on me.

My back arched with a cry that echoed off the waters surface and around the bathroom walls, my voice coming back at me and compounding the sound, just like my climax, vibrating and building and pulsing to a rigid peak.

I arched almost painfully, and Tom held me, his hand first urging me and then gentling me, cradling me as I came down.

I turned and curled into his side, laying my head on his chest as all the tension fled my body, leaving me languid and warm in my favourite place in the universe, listening to the steady thump of Tom’s heart.

Tom’s arms wrapped around me, lifting my hips to straddle him as I hung limp in his hands, settling me gently onto his cock, sliding in as he held me securely. I simply let him move me as he liked. I was too shattered to direct things, or even to participate much, I just enjoyed the floaty feeling of Tom moving me to his desire and let him carry on.

Tom’s hands moved to grip my bum, thrusting up into me, rubbing indolently against that ridged spot inside me and slowly pushing me back up to the mountaintop whether I will or no. Fortunately, I was happy to go, as long as I didn’t have to do the work. This time.

It was a lovely, slow fuck, gentle enough not to slosh the bathwater. Much. I lifted my head for a kiss and Tom took my mouth, suddenly fierce and urgent, pulling my hips down firmly as he thrust up and ground into me. It felt so fucking unbelievable to have him so deep inside me. It set me off uncontrollably. I clenched wildly around him and he braced his feet against the bath and arched under me, exploding in long pulses and gasps.

Collapsing back into the water after was what sent the wave over the rim of the tub. We lay in a limp heap, floating in the tub, enjoying the afterglow, slowly recovering and gathering our wits.

It wasn’t until I shivered that we realised that the water was growing cold. Tom helped me sit up, carefully steadying me before stepping out and lifting me out. Brrr!

Drying quickly, Tom plucked me up and strode into the bedroom, and slid me between the sheets, climbing in after and pulling the blankets. I curled my body around his and lifted my mouth for a kiss.

“Thank you for a lovely day,” I smiled at him.

“Makes up for being called out at stupid o’clock?” he asked.

“Not quite,” I laughed softly as I rested my head on his shoulder. “But my day sure did get better.”

Things had changed today.

Well no, that wasn't true, I’d just had some realisations today. Nothing had actually changed. Maybe I had. Over the months we’d been together. Just a smidge.

“What’s the day after twelfth night called?” I asked Tom idly.

“Thirteenth night?”

“Har de har,” I gently flicked his nipple.

“Careful, unless you want me to keep you up till stupid o’clock again.”

I thought about it but on the other hand, “Nah, I’m good.”

My head bounced a little as he chuckled and I snuggled in closer.

“So, the day after twelfth night?” I reminded him.

“Um, I think it’s called Epiphany.”

I smiled. I’d thought so.

“You’re not going to give me gold, Frankincense and myrrh, are you?” His voice was growing slow and deep with lethargy but it’s one of the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard.

“More like copper pipes, Frankenstein and. . . what even is myrrh?”

“I think it’s what you make incense from.”

“I thought incense was made from anger, wrath and rage?”

“No, that’s the Hulk, darling.”

“Of course.” I smiled. “But I don’t wanna smash you, so how’s Eau de Plumber sound?”

“What’s it made of?”

“Hard water and hard luck.”

“I’d really like to get lucky though so how about you myrrhmur my name while I make you come?”

“That could work.”

I stretched like a cat then settled back against Tom, still a little sore from our earlier antics? Well, they do say the cool down is more important than the warm up.

Tom smiled that sexy grin and slid down under the blanket. A warm tongue swept over my nipple and teased the tip until I made an impatient noise and arched against his mouth, demanding more. I felt Tom’s chuckle reverberate through my boob before he latched on and gave a hard suck.

Myrrhmuring Tom’s name suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. I pushed the blanket down far enough to uncover his head, and he looked up, the devil dancing in his eyes, and the devils grin wrapped around my boob

“You are a very bad influence on me, Mr Hiddleston.”

“Me!” he sounded indignant, but he was grinning.

“I have to be up in the morning, you know. Some of us have jobs.”

“I have a job!” His expression told me there was a punchline coming.

“Oh yeah?”

“Making you scream.”

“You’re slacking then, get back to it!”

He didn't need telling twice.

After I’d myrrhmured, screamed and cried his name—and he mine a few times—we finally settled back down to sleep and I moved his arm until I could rest my head on his shoulder again, poking at and pretending to fluff the hard pectoral that I was lying on before settling with a huff.

“I’m not your personal pillow, you know,” he teased me.

“You should be! What would you charge?” I yawned sleepily.

“For you? Nothing.” The arm around me settled on my hip and he began tracing lazy patterns on my skin with his fingertips.

“Now that’s what I call mate’s rates.” Mates sounded a little too flippant, even although I was only joking. We were far more than mates now.

Tomorrow’s surprise was all planned out but now I was rethinking things. It wasn't really even for tomorrow anyway, I’d booked us a week at Drum Castle up in Scotland later in the year, but I’d only paid a small reservation fee because I wasn't sure when Tom was available, so even if I lost the deposit I wouldn't lose much.

And then I had another realisation—or an epiphany, —ha! I was booking holidays for us! I’d never even taken a bank holiday with my other boyfriends, let alone taken the time to research and book one myself. I’d never liked any man enough to want to spend an entire week alone with them.

But Tom? I actually miss the bugger when he’s not underfoot.

All these thoughts only cemented the idea that there was something else we could do tomorrow. Something better. More meaningful.

Slowly the idea began to coalesce as I lay there. I wondered what Dave would extort from me for the last minute change in his plans. I knew it would cost me, but I also knew that my brother would move heaven and earth for me.

I was nearly asleep when Tom murmured in my ear.

“What have you planned for us tomorrow, Rocky?” Perhaps he thought if he were quiet enough and I was sleepy enough, I would spill the beans.

“Mmm, bring your guitar,” I muttered lethargically before I plunged into sleep, leaving him to puzzle over that.

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raisingsupergirl · 4 years ago

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My Supernatural Courage, pt. 1

*Author’s Note: Since writing this, I’ve had a thought, and I’m mulling it over. It might change my stance on things. It might not. Regardless, proceed, dear reader, to better understand where I’m coming from and where I may end up.*

I've been nervous a lot lately. I think everyone has. Not scared. Just nervous—uncertain. I've been nervous about the corona virus. I've been nervous about maintaining my hours at work. I've been nervous because I overcommit. I've been nervous because this past weekend I had to give a speech in front of my freemason brothers and had to play music in front of my church family. And, most of all, I've been nervous about the widespread civil unrest. But the weird thing is, even though national tensions seem to be on the rise, I'm finally starting to achieve some inner peace. Not because I've reached some sort of new normal or because I've given up in some way, but because my frayed nerves weren't actually about the civil unrest at all. They were about my own inner battle. And it took a bunch of local hillbillies to finally set my mind at ease.

If you've followed with me for long, you know that I stay pretty busy. A few weeks ago, I posted about how I didn't have time to truly commit to the conversation regarding ALM vs BLM. The week after that, I posted about not being ready to die because I still have "stuff to do." Well, even though I knew this past week would be crazy busy, I had one request for Father's Day weekend—I wanted to do nothing. And nothing is what I did. My family spent Saturday at the waterpark, nothing but fun and sun. And then we went out to my mom's for dinner on Sunday. That's it. No blogging. No editing. No mowing the grass. Nothin'. And it was amazing, not just because I needed a breath, but because I needed a moment to think. Creatives know that it's essential to recharge every so often. And after I took Father's Day weekend off, I had newfound clarity on, well, a lot of things.

Like I said, the following week came with its own stresses. Not only did I have a ton of editing to do along with practicing songs for the upcoming weekend's church worship team, but that Thursday night, I was to be installed as my masonic lodge's master for the upcoming year. It's been five years in the making—five years of growth, learning, mistakes, and patience. I've learned so much about what it means to be a man in that time. The core masonic principles are brotherly love, relief, and truth, and it's principle duties are to be, "diligent, prudent, temperate, and discreet." And as I said in my speech last Thursday night, masonry is a confirmation of the men we've always been and a reminder of the men we want to be. It doesn't forge us, but it does sharpen us. And as I dwelt on those principles the week leading up to our officer installation, an inner peace settled over me. But, unfortunately, as I said before, it took a bit of a slap in the face by a really ugly counter protest in a nearby town to get me there.

Growing up and living in central Missouri, you'd think I would be used to racism. And I guess I am, but only in the, "Oh, look, a black guy. How about that?" sort of way, which I guess isn't really racism, but I'm also not surprised when I see someone raise an eyebrow at an interracial couple (I also won't deny that I've heard plenty of racist jokes in my day, but I'm not going to get into the nuances of political correctness, Mel Brooks, and South Park). Again, I've always seen it as lack of exposure more than actual racism, and while I've known there were hardcore racists living amongst us, I guess it's just been an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But those blinders were ripped off this last week.

There was a BLM rally in a town about thirty minutes from my house. And, as you'd expect, there were plenty of people who showed up with "White Lives Matter" and "Blue Lives Matter" posters. Which is fine. As I said last week, we live in a free country, and our diverse viewpoints make up the spirit of this huge country. But this rally was pretty awful. First, there were local storeowners standing on their roofs with rifles, looking down on the protestors. I guess I get it. Protect your house, and all that. But, geez, was it really necessary to have your weapons shouldered and at the ready. And, obviously, that increased tensions, leading the BLM and ALM folks to move from "peaceful" to a little more verbally aggressive. And that, unfortunately, led a few of the more, ehem, outspoken anti-protestors to (and I almost hesitate to say it) act like monkeys and pantomime lynchings.

I've seen the pictures. I've heard the reports. The BLM protestors weren't innocent. They threw out racial slurs and accusations. But they didn't resort the that level of debased scum. And I don’t use that phrase lightly. Thinking about it makes me want to spit. Or punch someone. It's no different than making sexual jokes to someone who was molested as a child.

It's easy to write that horrible display off as a small, idiotic percentage of the community. It's easy to sigh and move on, remembering that most people aren't that way. But… some people are! They exist in my community! And those people infect the rest of us. The more they talk, the more they normalize actual (even if it's subtle) racism. Thankfully, their public actions have called them out. They've done much more harm to their cause than good. And that event was at catalyst for me. Well, that and one other.

This next turning point was a small one. It was a simple comment by a black lady. She responded to an "ALM" Facebook post. It was simple and humble. "Everyone already knows that all lives matter but everyone don't agree that black lives matter and if it is never said then we will never matter. So because I say black lives matter it's because I wanna be just as important as you would be to the world…"

Yes, I already knew this obvious truth. Yes, I'd heard it a hundred times. But the way she said it, the fact that it came from her, and the timing of it in my life just made things click. BLM isn't just a social movement with an agenda (which I tend to tie together with human imperfection, various other motives, and some of the rioting). It’s a statement. And it's a simple statement, at that. It doesn't have to be political or loaded. "Black lives matter," I said with a smile and a nod as I waited for her to cross the street. Just imagining that scenario makes me happy. Is it wrong to open a door for a woman, wave a tattooed biker on in front of us at a stoplight, or pay for the meal of someone richer or poorer than us? No. Such acts don't relinquish any of our own self-worth or threaten our futures. They're simple, humane kindnesses that make the world a better place. They're acknowledgements that we are a diverse world, and it's neat to remind specific peoples that they are important, not just to us, but to the Most Holy Lord God.

Oops. I'm sure I lost some of you just now. And that's okay, but stick with me. I'm a Christian, through and through. Christ is a part of my everyday life, and one thing that I've reminded myself of for a long time is that every person I meet is a unique child of God. Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, and Freemasonry reminds us by proclaiming, "Every human being has a claim on your kind offices. Do good unto all." And even though it took me a while to get here, I've found peace in those sentiments. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. And I'm not afraid in the slightest about the future.

When I hear about rioters pushing down statues, I'm reminded of Jesus overturning the moneychangers' tables in the temples. There are plenty of excuses to maintain the status quo, but none of them are really good ones. What are you afraid of? Losing our history? Really? I can still find MySpace comments I made fifteen years ago, and my mom still has pictures of me naked in the bathtub. We're not talking about destroying someone's personal property or threatening their lives (or livelihood). We're talking about a symbolic act of desperation. Was it smart? Or right? Or productive? Who knows, but it's nothing to freak out about!

White people, what are you afraid of? Seriously. Are you afraid that black people will enslave you? Are you afraid of economic collapse? Are your guns going to be taken from you? Your jobs? Your freedom of speech? I mean, c'mon. Even if all of those things did happen (which they won't), who cares!? … Okay, wait. I get it. Slaves care. I'm sure it sucks. But you know how black slaves survived in early American history? They relied on God! Remember the Jews? Christianity was literally born out of a nation of slaves! Oppression is woven into the story of humanity, start to finish. We're a broken world. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. The first shall become last, and the last shall become first. Are any of these ringing a bell?

Okay, sorry. I got a little worked up there. But I can't help it. Everyone is so afraid of losing stuff, and nobody is taking five seconds to ask why. Why, truly, are you alive? What are you trying to do? Okay, yes, I get the compulsion to protect your family and future generations. It's biological (which doesn't make it any less important). It's engrained within our race's perpetuation. But we are one race, and I’m sorry, but your family isn't the pinnacle of genetic, moral, and intellectual perfection for the human race. Your kid may have won the spelling bee, but he's not going to cure cancer.

So, ease up a little bit. Let the rest of the world have a little space. Do I agree with everything the BLM movement has been associated with? Of course not. And I never will, because there are a lot of people who hitch themselves to bandwagons, regardless of their own, personal motives. If rioters make the USA into Mad Max, well, then you'll finally be able to tell your wife, "I told you so" about all of the guns and ammo you've been buying over the years. If one truly evil civil rights activist rises up and turns us into a nation of white slaves, well, I guess we'll just have to focus in a little more on being kind to our neighbor, looking to the afterlife, and trusting in God to reward us for obeying his commandments. But more than likely, all of the extremists on both sides will be cut off from the herd, and the rest of us will (eventually) live in a slightly different-looking America than what it has been for the past couple centuries. That's the funny thing about time—the present eventually becomes history. We don't continue to live in it, and we don't forget it. We accept it, learn from it, and move on. Simple enough.

In the end, it's your choice. I've probably offended just about everyone with this post (but as usual, I did it in a super nice way, so good luck calling me out, jerk). But this has been my journey to peace with the situation. My family will live on. My nation will live on. Maybe we'll be blessed with earthly comfort, or maybe we'll be sharpened by trials and tribulations. But eternity waits for me, and while I still walk this earth, I'll have no problem praising and building up specific people and specific groups. Why? Because differences are what make people awesome, and I'm not afraid to remind them of it.

#equality #peace #finding peace #blm #alm #christianity #inner peace #civil unrest #protest

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latestageyouth · 5 years ago

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When you walk away (Nothing more to say)

chapter 10 - just,,,,all the fucking angst

trigger warnings: sympathetic Remus and Deceit, self-degrading talk, thoughts of suicide, crying, glass stuck in hand (Remus breaks a beer bottle in his hand), blood, toxic father, lots of swearing, lots of angst, allusions to biting nails into blood, rain, talk of hypothermia, some mentions of a dog barking, allusions to self harm and suicide (no actual suicide or intended self-harm), cognitive distortions, underage drinking, drinking spoiled beer let me know if i missed something

summary: All the fucking angst poured into one chapter intended to emotionally destroy you.

author’s note: it's 2,500 plus words, buckle up, buttercups. I am writings this at near-midnight and if ya'll see some typos, don't blame it on me blame it on the red bull. Also wooo!!! this is the 10th chapter!!! can't believe I made it that far and that ya'll are still reading my elaborate daydreams that I vomited onto a screen!! yaay!!!

He was cold. No, not cold, numb. Both, actually. The rain trickled along his soaked denim jacket. Not that Damon cared, he deserved it anyway. The jacket did nothing to keep him warm, after all, it's main purpose was to look cool. A shiver shot through him as his phone buzzed in his back pocket. His shaking hand slowly took it out, "Avery...?"

Remus.

Damon put the phone back and let it ring until the only sound he could hear was the rain falling, the occasional car driving by. He didn't want to talk to Remus right now.

...Huh. Didn't want to talk to Remus, that would be a first. A bittersweet feeling flooded Damon's chest. He couldn't tell if he was still crying or not, if yes, the rain mixed with the tears too perfectly to tell. He could still see the sidewalk before him, but not for long. It was dark, it was getting darker. Damon sighed, just a few streets more. Just a-

He sneezed. Great, so now he has a cold, this day couldn't end any better. He flinched as a loud barking began, probably a dog. It's not like Damon paid any attention to it. He didn't know if Avery would be home, he prayed that they were not. The barking stopped, that or Damon was far enough for the sound of rain to block it out. He should check if Avery was home.

He pulled the phone out again, scrolling through the phone screen with some difficulty due to the rain. He finally reached their phone number, typing a simple message: 'u home yet??'

He waited for a response, still walking towards their house. He tried to shield the screen with his arm but eventually gave up when his arm started cramping. After a few minutes, after he finally accepted he would get so response, his phone buzzed. Damon looked at the screen again.

'U MEAN U ARENT HOME YET!?!!'

Oh, shit, that's right. God, Damon was so stupid sometimes. It wasn't long before the phone buzzed again.

'DAMON HORACE BARNES ANSWER ME DAMN IT!!!'

Well, there goes his freedom for the next six years and a half. He sped up his tempo and began writing back: 'i was at-' he hesitated, finger hovering before the screen for a while, then they got back to work 'i was at virgil's'

'...at least u were inside, wouldnt want u hanging out under a bride in this bad weather or something'

'lmao y would i be under a bridge im not THAT stupid'

'just get home already -_-'

And with that, Damon shut off his phone and looked up at where he was, hopefully his muscle memory didn't betray him. It didn't seem to, as his house was finally in view. He sighed and walked directly towards it, picking up the spare key from beneath the welcome mat on the rocky path. He opened the door and was immediately hit with a wave of warmth. He took off the soaking jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen table. He shivered at the feeling of bare arms, the wet t-shirt doing nothing to preserve his body heat. Not that he cared anyway, it was just another thing to add to his list of problems.

He went straight to his room, not bothering to turn on the light, plopping onto his bed in the still wet clothes. Now that he was alone, still cold, and at home, he could think about what will be the consequences of his actions. He tangled his hands into his hair. Stupid. Remus probably hates him now, great, he made everything between them awkward because he was selfish and wanted Remus for himself. He curled up into himself. Stupid. Of course the one time he doesn't think, the only time he acts on impulse, is the time that he ruins everything and more. He tugs on his hair harshly, taking his attention away from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He's so stupid.

"Okay, you guys ready?" Jenna glanced between the two, "Or is our widdle newd here afraid of freezing to death?" she baby-talked at Logan.

Logan rolled his eyes in retaliation, not saying anything and instead walking up the steep hill to Jenna's brother's car. He...wasn't entirely sure what he was called. Kind of a bad thing considering he was getting a ride from him. It wasn't long before the other two joined, Jenna sitting in the front seat while Logan and Virgil were in the back seat. Logan didn't care for nor listened to the bickering of the twin. He turned his head to the other side at the heavy feeling on his shoulder. Virgil was resting against it, of course, Virgil always preferred to initiate physical contact, it was obvious why. The ride was not at all silent, not that it bothered either of them. It wasn't long before they were at Virgil's house, with the mix of Virgil signing and Logan interpreting to...Tyler, was it? for directions. He didn't thank the twins, even when exiting the old car. It was a bummer leaving Logan, but he'll live, right?

Virgil pulled out his keys to the house and let himself in, recoiling in panic when someone threw himself at him, "There you are! I was worried sick! I thought someone had kidnapped you or you froze to death!" Emile pulled back, still clutching at his shoulders, to look at him, "Do you even know how late it is?! I thought you…" Emile trailed off. The scars on Virgil's legs hurt faintly as he did. Emile soon shook his head, "Well, I am really glad you didn't. Y-you must be cold. Wait on the sofa, I'll make you some hot cocoa and reheat yesterday's dinner, yeah?"

Virgil couldn't help but nod, his chest heaving with guilt of what he did. Not the same guilt mom made him feel, no, definitely not. This was a new kind, he didn't like that one either. The sofa was soft, softer than he remembered, maybe he was just tired…Was Logan tired? Why was Virgil asking that? Of course he was, who wouldn't be?

To say Logan was tired would be an underestimation. He was exhausted, in more than one way, "Answer me, for fuck's sake!" The hands banged on the table. Logan didn't relent answering this time, "I, uh, I was heading home and...got caught up with some friends…" he fiddled with the loose of his flannel.

His dad scoffed, "Some friends you have, you smell like cigarettes and paint."

Logan needed to think of a good lie, just until momma comes down. Just a few minutes, she always worries for Logan, she would check if he came home. His dad inched closer, "It's a second-hand smell, I had to take a shortcut through a poorer part of the city."

Soft steps could be heard up the stairs, growing closer and closer. It wasn't soon after that momma revealed herself on top of them, tired as always. She froze for a second when she saw Logan, then stomped down, all while dad tried to reason with her, "Honey, Melissa, you surely know what a slacker he is, I mean, look at him."

Melissa turned her head so she couldn't see Gerald sign or move his lips. She looked at Logan taking his face in her hands. Logan looked away, sighing after an intense staring contest that Melissa won, "I am sorry, it won't happen again, I promise," Melissa was still frowning, but her face softened, she always had a soft spot for Logan.

Gerald scoffed, knowing his wife won't hear him anyway, "I can't believe she's that gullible..." he grumbled something under his breath, most probably about Logan being spoiled, and went upstairs to his office, where else would he go? His mother removed her hands from his cheeks and began signing, a thing Logan was glad he didn't have to interpret to someone anymore, like, do you even know how tiring that is?

'Where on earth have you been? Do you know how worried I was?!'

Logan sighed, signing back, 'I was out with some of my friends, I apologize for making you worry,' he watched as surprise glazed over her face for a second.

'Boys like Roman and Patton would never stay out so late.'

Logan hesitated, looking away.

Melissa raised an eyebrow, eventually waving it off and sending Logan to bed. The poor boy must be tired, she was too. She can interrogate him about his whereabouts some other time.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The droplets of rain fell to the ground endlessly. Clank. Remus kicked the trash can over, garbage spilling over the sidewalk. Tap. Tap. Tap. His shoes tapped against the concrete. His uneven breaths echoed the streets in white clouds of breaths. The place where his fingernails should be is stinging with the cold and pain, fingers digging into the outer side of his arms, dried blood on where the fingers were placed. It wasn't from the arms, his nails weren't sharp enough to do that. Remus could still feel the metallic taste in his mouth, the familiar taste, it didn't mean he liked it though. He hit his foot on something hard, his eyebrows furrowed. Remus looked down at it, slowly picking the beer bottle up. Did it have something left? Remus shook it. Hah, at least something in his life didn't go wrong for once. It tasted bitter, flat, Remus might say. Not that it mattered, as long as it got him drunk. He took another swig, face scrunching up at the taste, but hey, he'll get used to it. Just like he gets used to everything. Like living with momma. Like being a disappointment of the family. Like being alone. Yeah, he can get used to being alone again, no biggie. He'll get over it. He gets over everything.

He heard a car passing, god, he hopes it'll run him over. It gets closer, Remus can hear it. He considers running in front of it...no, he...he couldn't do that to Virgil. A freezing shock runs through the left side of his body, he shrikes and jumps away from the road.

...God, simply fucking amazing. Now he's soaked completely. Well, too late to jump in front of that car now. Remus blinked and looked up...Where was he again? How...How long did he walk for?

"Remus?"

He already knew who that was, how couldn't he? He didn't need to be babied. Remus kept walking. He couldn't even bare looking at Damon's family.

The car still rode beside him slowly, "Remus, kid, you're gonna freeze out here, c'mon."

Remus kept walking.

Avery sighed, "I'll drive you home, okay?"

"Why?" Remus barked back. His step quickened.

Avery stuttered, "Why?!" Remus flinched at the sudden rise of tone. Avery tensed, "Look, sport, by this rate you're gonna get hypothermia, and I already have one teenager to worry about. Get in the car."

Remus didn't relent. He didn't wanna deal with anyone right now. Knowing Avery, they wouldn't...interrogate him, per se, but they will try to, ugh, talk to him. He didn't need that. He didn't hear them say anything. Did they drive off already? He didn't hear them.

Avery sighed, "I'll call your mom."

Remus' eyes widened, "Wait, no, don't!"

Too late. Too late again. Fucking god, Remus just couldn't do anything right, could he? He just...always messed up no matter what. Remus' grip on the bottle tightened. He could just hear ma and Roman, 'God, Remus, you're such a burden!' his hand started shaking. Why should he even bother them with his presence? Maybe if he hurts everyone he comes to contact with he shouldn't exi-

The bottle shattered. Remus hissed in pain. Fuck. He dropped the remains of the beer bottle onto the ground, beer mixing with his blood. His hand twitched, he trembled with pain, and the rain isn't fucking helping. Great, just...fucking magnificent. This shit is just asking to get infected. Whatever. Whatever. What the fuck ever.

Avery opened the door to their house, putting the keys back in their purse. It was dark, don't tell them..."Damon? Honey, are you here?" they called out, listening carefully for any sound. Soft sobbing came from his room. Avery slowly walked to Damon's room, not bothering to knock and opening the door right away, "Sport? You okay?"

The light from the kitchen illuminated a part of his room, mainly the bed where a bundle of sheets shifted more into themselves, "Get out," came from beneath them, voice hoarse and raspy, almost like...

"Oh, honey," Avery walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I am assuming it has something to do with Remus?"

The muffled breathing stopped, they could almost feel Damon tense.

"I...saw him on the way here," they explained.

Like on command, Damon rose from the bed, "You what?! What did- did he say something? Wh- why is he still out, it's late!" his bloodshot eyes were wide and searching all over Avery's face for answers. All he was getting were dark circles and even darker eyes.

Avery sighed and slowly moved their hand to Damon's. This time, they could actually feel him tense up, "Damon, sweetheart, what happened? Did Remus hurt you?"

Damon looked at Avery like they had just slapped him, Wh-what?! Of course not! He would, he would never do that!" his hand clenched into a fist. Damon looked away from his parent, "I just...messed up like I always do."

Something in Avery broke, "Dee, dee, sugar, look at me."

Although unwillingly, Damon looked at them. They took Damon's face into their hands.

"You could never mess up something as big as you and Remus, okay? One mistake won't erase years of friendship."

"B-but-"

"There are no buts in this household, Dee," they slowly stroked the other's cheek, "I am sure you two will make up in no time."

Eventually, Damon gave up on trying to convince Avery otherwise. He nodded, "Yeah, okay. You're right," just get over with it, he wanted to be alone right now. Or forever.

Avery sighed, "Of course I am, just wait," they got up from the bed and walked over to the door before turning back to Damon, "I'll order some pizza and we can watch Law & Order on my laptop, yeah?"

Damon nodded. As soon as Avery walked out he buried himself back in his bed. Huh, he didn't notice but he was starving. Whatever, he deserved it anyway. He could hear Avery talking on the phone, though he tuned them out. He wanted to be left alone, how could he trust himself around other people now? He couldn't. He shouldn't. He should just...pretend tonight didn't happen and avoid Remus as much as possible. Yes. The best-case scenario, Remus was too drunk to remember it, though, he probably wasn't. Eh, give Damon a rest, let a man dream. Though...Damon wasn't sure he would dream tonight...or anywhen in the future, really. Now that he thinks about it, Damon wasn't sure about a lot of things. Hah, how pathetic of him.

#long post #when you walk away (nothing more to say)#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #me??? coping with my daddy issues??? in this fanfic??? it's more likely than you think.#angst #it's dark side angst o'clock and the clock is stuck

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daydream-hobii · 6 years ago

Text

Circular Glasses | Taehyung | Part 1

Genre: College!AU; So fluffy, I hate myself, but there’s also a lil angst

Pairing: Nerd!Taehyung x Popular.Foreign.Exchange.Student!Reader

Summary: You’re a foreign exchange student at University of Seoul in South Korea. When you arrived, you were immediately thrown into the popular and rich clique since you were an exchange student, and everyone wanted to talk to you. Your specific group of friends happen to be bullies, and have been bullying this nerd that you actually really like. You decide that it’s time to stop.

Warning: Mentions of Bullying; Mentions of a fight; Profanity; Ball grabbing???; Read with Caution~ <3

Word Count: 1,655

// Part 2 // Part 3 //

Author’s Note: Thanks for the request!! I am SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS!! My heart hurts, ahhh. T-T SoooOOOooo, gonna be another parter, cause I have too many ideas. (: I hope you like it!! ^_^ @vincent-j-clint-renoir

Noticing people was something you had always done, you were pretty observant. When you moved to Seoul for college, people really liked you for god knows why, maybe because you were a foreigner? You were even considered the popular person that you see in movies, which was odd in itself, but what was more strange is the people you chose to hang out with.

Your best friend was… well… a bitch. Her boyfriend was a jock with a full ride scholarship, while the rest of your friends were just… well rude and kind of dumb…. You would never stand for their bullying, but you couldn’t stop it.

There was this boy that you saw pretty much all over campus. He was in a couple of your classes and you had talked to him for only a few seconds, finding out his name was Taehyung, but he seemed sweet. He had circular glasses that made his face look smaller, and blackish hair. He had a couple piercings in his ears and would occasionally wear a long, dangle chain earring. He wasn’t that bad looking, his glasses just immediately classified him as a nerd, which frustrated you.

You’d see him sitting in the courtyard with a couple of his friends laughing and smiling, which makes you smile. They’re all a bunch of, “nerds,” but they were all so very cute. Those three were also friends with a few popular kids, take the most handsome boy in school for example. He was a senior in culinary school, and he was drop dead gorgeous, everyone knew him, but he was really close with these guys. Another boy whose going into music, he could honestly be the president of a country one day, is also close with the boys, as well as a cold, distant boy whose also in the music school. You’ve never seen him smile until he’s with those three boys. The last one was a dance major, and Jesus his moves made you feel things you didn’t know existed. Again, everyone knew him and most people wanted to date him, so he was up in the social charts.

Since these four boys hung out with the nerds, however, they were also scrutinized by the rich and popular, which drove you nuts. Sure, they still had high popularity with the other cliques, but they were pretty much banished from the, “popular.”

You really started to notice the nerdy boy when he would work in the library.. The library is where you both really started to connect in some way. The first day you both sat in the library, you sat by yourself and he was just a couple tables from you, also alone. You found yourself occasionally looking at him, noticing the small details of his face. He was pretty attractive, and you could feel your heart flutter as you thought about him.

What you didn’t know was that Taehyung would be doing the same thing. He fantasized about dating you, he really liked you, but you would never go for a guy like him…. He was a nerd who liked to play video games in his free time, and studied all the time. He was a bit poorer than most people, his family were farmers, why would someone as popular as you want him…? But he certainly liked to admire you.

This continued, and you both found yourselves sitting near each other constantly. One day, Taehyung caught you staring, making your face flush in embarrassment as you quickly looked back to your computer, working for your online class.

Today was no different, you both sat in the noisier part of the library, where people could talk freely, and you sat only a table away from him. His two best friends, Jimin and Jungkook, who were also a bit nerdy, sat with him and they all enjoyed talking. Jimin had a pair of gold glasses with bright red hair, and Jungkook had circular, thin glasses with chestnut brown hair. You found yourself smiling at their conversations, it was about Overwatch, a video game.

“Hey, guys,” Namjoon said, walking over to the table and sitting down. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you did anyway. You were fluent in Korean, for the obvious reasons of living there, but some people said your Korean was excellent.

“Hey, Joonie,” Jimin said, flashing a smile.

“Talking about overwatch again?” Hoseok asked, moonwalking to the table. You suppress a giggle as you force yourself back on your screen.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, smiling shyly.

“How long did you three stay up last night?” Yoongi grumbled, walking over with Seokjin and plopping into a seat, head going onto the table and closing his eyes. The three hesitated, looking down.

“Till four…” Taehyung mumbled. You bit your lip in a smile.

“In the morning?” Seokjin asked, wide eyed. “Guys, come on, you need a good sleep!”

“We know, dad,” Jungkook grumbled, making Jimin snicker.

“Hey, Y/n!” Someone yelled, taking your attention away from the seven to see your best friend running over, smiling big. Her long black hair was trailing behind her, making her look stunning.

“Hey,” You replied, taking a sneak peek at the seven. They were watching you, a couple glaring while Taehyung looked sad.

“Why are you sitting over here?” She asked, eyeing the seven before looking at you. “Smells like a bunch of pigs!” She giggled, making you glare at her.

“More like the smell of a dog,” You mumbled, staring at your computer. “What do you want?”

“Ooh, someone’s feisty today,” Another girl said, walking over and sitting. The whole group was here, and you felt sick.

“Yeah, I’m trying to study, no distractions,” You replied, continuing to stare at your computer. The girl across from you shut it, taking it away from you as you stared in surprise.

“Hey!” You complained, staring hard.

“Come on, Y/n,” Your best friend said, flashing a smile. “Let’s go hang out! Have some fun, score some guys.”

“Did I hear guys,” Her boyfriend said, walking over and leaning down, kissing her.

“Come on, let’s move,” You heard Hoseok whisper, standing.

“Oh, hey there,” Her boyfriend said, smirking at them and walking to the seven boys. Looks like a couple of his friends followed, making me gulp and stare.

“Hey,” Seokjin replied, arms crossed. Yoongi was now staring them down, still seated, while the three nerds stared at the table, fear in their eyes.

“Why leave so soon?” The boyfriend asked. “We just got here.”

“Just back off,” Namjoon growled, crossing his own arms.

“What’d you say?” The larger man glared, making your heart sink. “Hey, you.” He pointed to Taehyung, forgetting about Namjoon, making him look at the jock with fear.

“Y-yes,” Taehyung stuttered, wide eyed and fearful.

“Come here,” He said. You took the chance to stand up, watching the scene unfold.

“Y/n? Sit down, enjoy the show,” Your best friend said, but you were too focused on the men before you.

Taehyung stood up slowly, making Hoseok grab his shoulder to stop him. The jock reached in between Seokjin and Namjoon, grabbing Taehyung by the shirt and pulling him forward. You immediately ran around the table, slipping under the jocks arm that held Taehyung so you were between them.

It happened with exceptional speed and once you were there, you placed your hand on the front of his jeans, gripping his balls hard, nails digging through his jeans, making him hiss in pain. You stepped forward, which made him step back. Everyone was stunned.

“I’m so fucking tired of you bullying these guys,” You growled. The jock tried to talk, but you squeezed tighter, taking your other hand and tangling it in his hair, pulled his head to the side as he whimpered. “Shut up! You talk when I tell you. I moved here not wanting any trouble, and I got the worst group in the bunch!”

“Y/n!” You best friend exclaimed, standing up.

“You’re a bitch,” You told her, before turning back to the man, bringing his head closer to you as you kept your other hand tightly placed on his balls. “I see you, or any of your friends, messing with these seven, I’ll kick your ass, got it?”

“Got it!” The jock exclaimed, pain in his features. You let him go, shoving him back. He tumbled backwards, laying on the floor as you stepped over him, looking him up and down.

“Looks like your ego is so big so it can make up for downstairs,” You said, looking to the front of his jeans than to his face. “cause honey, you do not have a lot going for you.”

You listened to a couple boys snicker behind you, turning around to see most of the boys still looking at you stunned. You ignored them, holding your hand for your laptop. The girl who took it gave it back fast. You grabbed your backpack, flinging it over your shoulder, when you heard the jock stand.

“What a cunt,” He growled, but it was a whisper. You sighed, turning around and walking over to him. You gave a bitter sweet smile at him before swinging your foot out and connecting in between his legs.

He gave a high pitched squeal, dropping to the ground and crying in pain. The seven behind you started saying ooh as if it hurt them too. The librarian walked over, stifling a laugh. Everyone knew these jerks.

“Miss Y/l/n! Leave this library!” She exclaimed, pointing to the door. Rules were rules, and you respected that.

“My pleasure,” You said, turned around and staring at your old group of friends. “I think it’s obvious, but in case it’s not, you all share similar fates if you try to talk to me, or these seven lovely men. Tootles!” You said, mockingly kicking your foot behind you and smiling, turning and walking out.

#bts #bts reactions #bts imagines #taehyung #v #taehyung imagines #v imagines #bts college au #taehyung college au #v college au #requested #vincent-j-clint-renoir

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