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lokiondisneyplus · 4 years ago

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Loki director Kate Herron’s heart was beating fast. She’d already had some surreal experiences during her short time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, so a simple phone call shouldn’t make her nervous. But on the other end of the line was Owen Wilson, an actor and writer she admired and hoped would join her on a time-jumping journey through the MCU.

“It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him,” Herron recalls of wooing Wilson, who wasn’t too familiar with Marvel before being cast as Mobius, an agent for the mysterious Time Variance Authority central to the series.

Wilson instantly put Herron at ease with his laid-back charm as she walked the actor through 10 years of onscreen lore for Loki, the god of mischief played by Tom Hiddleston. She answered his questions about Avengers: Endgame, about time travel, about how this version of Loki was not the one fans knew from films like Thor: Ragnarok, but rather one plucked from an alternate timeline from 2012’s The Avengers.

It was all part of a whirlwind few years for Herron, who not that long ago was temping at a fire extinguisher company and struggling to land directing work even though she’d already helmed a BBC project with Idris Elba. Then Herron finally achieved breakthrough success directing episodes of the Netflix hit Sex Education and soon was hounding her agents for a Marvel meeting.

When Herron finally landed one, the Loki superfan cleared her schedule and spent two weeks putting together a 60-page document, even though her agents tempered her expectations by noting it was just a meet-and-greet.

“I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], ‘OK. I’ll just be the most passionate,'” recalls Herron.

Just a few days after officially landing the job, Herron found herself on a five-hour walk through New York with Hiddleston discussing Loki and flying to D23 in Anaheim to be greeted by thousands of screaming fans alongside Loki head writer Michael Waldron.

Herron is now working long days finishing up Loki in Marvel’s production hub in Atlanta, where the British filmmaker has largely lived since getting the job in 2019. Over Zoom from her freezing Atlanta apartment (she still hasn’t figured out the quirks of the air conditioner), Herron dives into Loki ahead of its June 9 debut on Disney+.

What was your process of sitting down with Marvel for this?

I was just so overexcited. [My agents] were like, “Look, it’s just a casual conversation, they just want to get a sense of you,” and basically I was like, “OK, I’m just going to pitch them.” Because I thought, they might not meet me again. So I got as much information as I could, and they sent me a little bit about the show. And I just prepared a massive pitch for it. I canceled everything for two weeks. I made a 60-page document full of references, story ideas, music. I knew I’d be up against some really big directors, and I knew I wouldn’t be the most experienced in the room, so I [said], “OK. I’ll just be the most passionate.”

Was that first meeting in Burbank?

That was in England, in southeast London on Zoom. I had a few stages where I did that. Then after a few interviews with Kevin Wright and Stephen Broussard, two of the Marvel executives who got me ready for the big match, I went in to pitch to Kevin Feige, Victoria [Alonso], Lou [Louis D’Esposito], the whole team there. That was very surreal because they flew me to Burbank and I pitched at Marvel Studios. I didn’t have the job, but I found out they were interested and then I remember Kevin Feige called me, and when he was in London, we had coffee. He was like, “Look, we want you to direct it.” Oh my God. They flew me to D23 and that was crazy because I think I found out I got the job 48 hours before, and then I was onstage. The Lady and the Tramp dogs were in front of me and Michael [Waldron] on the red carpet. “What is going on?” (Laughs.) I met Tom that week as well, so it was a bit of a whirlwind kind of thing.

📷Herron, Waldron and Feige at D23 in 2019.

Where did you first meet Tom?

I had a two-stop trip. I flew first to New York to meet Tom. He was in Betrayal at the time, on Broadway, so we basically went on this amazing walk around New York. I’d never met him before. We just spoke about Loki and what was really important to us about the character and where we thought it would be fun to take him, as well. It was this intense, five-hour conversation with him basically. I met him and then flew straight from meeting him to D23. So it was a lot. (Laughs.)

When did you finally get the scripts? How did that change your thoughts on what you want to do?

They sent me the outline, so I knew the overall story. I also was pitching stuff. “Oh, we could do this with this character.” The pilot was really well written by Michael and I really liked what they were doing with the character and the story. Then it was building upon that and throwing in ideas for where he could go later in the show. It reminded me a bit of improv where you’re always building, always trying to push the story to the best place. So we were always adapting and shifting the story. Our lockdown, during COVID, was a chance for us to go back in. I was cutting what we’d done, so I was like, “OK, this is tonally what is really working for the story.” Then we went back into what we hadn’t filmed and started adapting that stuff to fit more where we were heading.

The Marvel movies have a writer on set to help tweak things. Was that the case with Loki?

Michael [Waldron] was with us at the start, and then he went on to Doctor Strange [in the Multiverse of Madness]. We had a really wonderful writer called Eric Martin from our writers room, and he was our production writer on set. It was between me, him and my creative producer Kevin Wright. We would kind of brainstorm and adapt. I’ve always loved talking to the cast. We had such a smart cast. Owen is a writer as well. If you have that amazing resource, why not talk to them? We were always adapting. Obviously paying respect to the story we wanted to tell from the start, but always trying to make it better.

📷Herron on the set of ‘Loki’ with Hiddleston and Wilson.

Kevin Feige has said Owen Wilson, like his character, is nonplussed by the MCU. Since Owen isn’t necessarily dazzled by Marvel, does that make him all the more perfect for this role?

He is playing a Loki expert, so at the beginning of production, Tom and I were talking. He devised this thing called Loki School. He did a big lecture to the cast and crew. I love the character. This is a decade of fans loving this character and where that character has been. It was talking everyone through that, but through Tom and his own experiences. Stunts that Tom liked or costumes. He ended up doing that same Loki school for Owen. Owen absolutely loved it. Owen has such a writer’s brain. I remember I had to pitch him down the phone. My heart rate [was up].

Was this the pitch to get him to get Owen on board?

Yeah. I love his work. “Oh my God, I’m going to talk to Owen Wilson.” He’s so laid back and nice, it immediately puts you at ease. It was the most detailed pitch I’ve ever done, to an actor, ever. I think I pretty much spoke through the entire first episode with him. You can tell he’s a writer, just by the way he attacks story. His questions about the world and the structure and the arc of the character. It was really fun to work with him.

Was it the most detailed pitch you’ve ever done because you really wanted Owen, or because you knew you needed to woo him a bit to get him to sign on?

It was the questions he asked, and the way he attacked story, in that sense. And also probably because he was newer to the Marvel world, he was like, “OK, how does this work?” I also pitched him Loki’s arc over the past 10 years, where that character has gone, but also explaining our Loki and what happened in Endgame and time travel. There’s a lot to unpack in that conversation.

Sometimes Marvel will give writers or directors a supercut of all the scenes of a specific character. Did you get one of those?

They didn’t actually give me a supercut, but I’m a big Loki nerd. I think his is one of the best [arcs] in the MCU. I really wanted to make sure we were paying respect to that. At the same time, something Tom spoke about a lot was you have to go back for a reason. Let’s be united on what that reason is and feel that it’s worth it.

The reason can’t be, “Well that’s what happened in Endgame,” so the question becomes, “What is the point of revisiting him at this era of his life?”

Yeah. He’s only had — I don’t want to get this wrong — I think 112 minutes of screen time in total if you cut all his scenes together. And he steals the show. We have six hours to really delve into this character and talk about him and go on this completely new story with him. For me, it was making sure that [we’re] paying respect to what has come before — I know as a fan if there is a character I really loved and I found out they are making a show about him, I obviously would be so excited and so happy. I felt lucky to have the responsibility, and I took it very seriously.

Those who have worked with Kevin Feige say he’s someone who can stress test an idea and push things in new directions. What have you found working with him?

Something I always found was we would sometimes pitch something, and it would be at a good place, but he’d always be like, “OK, that’s great, but push it further.” Sometimes I’d pitch stuff and be like, “This is too weird,” and he’d say, “No, go weirder.” He wants to tell the best story and I found it really helpful having his eye across everything and the fact that he does challenge everything. Tom as well, on set. He brings this amazing energy and this great A-game that causes everyone to rise to the occasion.

How do you know when you’ve got the perfect Hiddleston take? Is he asking you for one more, are you pushing him to do one more take?

By the end, it was almost telepathic. We would kind of know. We would look at each other. “We could go again,” or, “We’ve got it.” It’s different with every actor. There are some actors who will come in firing and they just want to go for it. But they don’t want to do a million takes. There are other actors I work with who are very meticulous and they want quite a few to warm up and get into it. It’s actor-dependent. The way me and Tom are similar is we are both very perfectionist. We are both very studious. (Laughs.) We definitely connected in that sense. He’s a very generous actor. I remember one day, we had quite a few of our actors coming in as day players. It was really important for him to be there for them, to read lines offscreen. He would have to be 50 places at once, because he is the lead actor. The most amazing thing about him was his generosity. Not just to the other actors, but also to the crew, to be filming in a time like COVID.

When you make an Avengers movie, you get a big board with every character that’s available, and whether the actor’s deals will allow them to appear or if that would need to be renegotiated. Loki is smaller, but was there any equivalent for you? Was everything on the table? Was only some stuff on the table? I imagine if Chris Hemsworth has his own new Thor movie coming up, he’s not going to be on the table, necessarily.

I felt like everything was on the table if it meant it was good for story, and Marvel would be like, “We’ll work it out.” Me and the writers, we never felt restrained in that sense. Honestly, it always comes back to story.

What is your relationship with your editor as you finish this up?

We have three editors, Paul Zucker, Emma McCleave and Calum Ross. My relationship with all three of them is very different. Emma and me are very close because she was also in Atlanta away from home. I got to know her very well. I love working with the editors because it’s a fresh pair of eyes. You get so deep into something when you are filming, it’s almost like writing it again when you are in the edit. Stuff does change. Even some episodes, we’ve reordered the structure. Or we moved scenes from one episode to another episode. I’ve always loved the editing process. The best thing is someone honest who can be like, “Hey, this doesn’t quite make sense to me,” or, “This isn’t working.”

What are you going to do on premiere day? Will you be on the internet at all to see the reaction?

I’m actually working. I’m still finishing the show. My last day is the day the second episode airs. I’m going to be working that day. Sadly, I’ll probably check in on the internet a little bit, but I’ll probably go to bed when I finish because I think I’ll do a 12- or 13-hour day or something. I can’t remember. I’m really excited for people to see it and just to bring it out in the world, really.

Everyone wants to know about spoilers, but what’s something you wish you were asked about more when it comes to Loki?

Kevin Feige said, “We make movies. We want to run it like a movie.” So unlike a lot of television shows that are showrunner-led, this was run like a six-hour film. As a director, you don’t often get to do that in a television-structure show. I really enjoyed it, having a hand in story and just how collaborative it was. Also, just beyond that, directing the equivalent of a six-hour Marvel movie was incredible for me. That’s something I found interesting about it. Making something the Marvel way.

In terms of the themes, I love gray areas. The show is really about what makes someone truly good or what makes someone truly bad, and are we either of those things? Loki is in that gray area. It’s exciting to be able to tell a story like that. As a director and a writer, you don’t necessarily understand why you are making these stories. Something I keep getting drawn back into is identity. Sex Education, we spoke a lot about identity and feeling like an outsider but actually finding your people. I feel the same with Loki. It’s a show about identity and self-acceptance and for me, that’s also what drew me in.

Gray is a good way to describe Loki. Your version of Loki just tried to take over the Earth not long ago.

Exactly. This isn’t the Loki we’ve seen. How do we take a character that people love, but from a lot earlier, and send him on a different path? That for me was interesting, getting to unpack that. Alongside that, getting to set up a whole new corner of the MCU with TVA. That to me was so exciting.

What about the Teletubbies? You referenced that recently and it made quite a splash. Are you going to leave people in suspense on that?

I referenced the Teletubbies once and people were like, “What, Teletubbies? What does this mean?” Maybe I should leave people in the air with it. One thing I would say is the show for me, stylistically — I wanted it to be a love letter to sci-fi because I love sci-fi. Brazil, Metropolis, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Alien. If people love sci-fi, they will definitely see the little nods we’ve got across the show. People will know what it was a reference for when they see the show. It was a visual reference to something in the show.

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. Loki debuts on Disney+ on June 9.

#Kate Herron #Loki #interview #loki series

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 3 years ago

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Thought You Liked Me Too

Part 1 of Not the One series.

Summary: Blaine is just starting at NYADA, spies Kurt Hummel, and promptly falls in love. One issue, Kurt is dating the lead singer of the acapella group Blaine wants to join.

Notes: Partly inspired by Maisie Peters’ song “John Hughes Movie”

Read Part 2 here

AO3

Blaine tells his friends that the first time he saw Kurt Hummel was at the club they frequent.

When they tease him about his little crush, it’s everything straight out of his daydreams. Dancing with Kurt in the middle of a dancefloor not caring who’s watching, foreheads pressed together breathing in each other’s air, and being able to lean in anytime he wants to kiss him.

Except none of those daydreams are true and none of those friends are really Blaine’s friends.

Sam made friends with a bunch of upperclassmen who had connections to get the pair of roommates fake IDs. Callbacks was a primarily NYADA scene so the NYU students wanted nothing to do with it. Blaine had spent the last weeks of summer hanging out with Sam’s NYU friends exploring the city by day and clubbing at The Lion’s Den at night.

He knew once he started school some of his weekend nights would be spent here and others at Callbacks. Hopefully, Blaine Anderson could make friends at NYADA as easily as Sam had at NYU.

It had only taken two days before Sam came back to their apartment talking Blaine’s ear off about a group of guys he spent orientation with, “seriously dude, Dante and I are like long-lost twins.”

Blaine thought the same thing about him and Sam.

“That’s great, Sam.”

“We’re going out tonight. They want me to meet the rest of the group.”

Blaine was still scrolling through his phone, checking his emails again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything from school. They sent out orientation day schedules when he and Sam went grocery shopping yesterday. Ever since Blaine’s been slightly on edge. Maybe he should update his email notification preferences?

“You have to come!” Sam exclaimed, jumping onto the couch. “Please, Blaine! You’re my best bud. I want you to meet them.”

“I don’t know Sam…they’re your classmates.”

“Come on! It’ll be fun.”

It never took much to cave to Sam. Not when he made his lips so pouty.

“Fine, when and where?”

“Yes!” Sam did an air fist bump. “9 at the Lion’s Den.”

Then, Sam disappeared into his bedroom.

“The Lion’s Den,” Blaine murmured. “Doesn’t sound threatening at all.”

Blaine came to learn that The Lion’s Den was always crowded. Even on weeknights. From trivia night to karaoke to wing specials, everyone had a reason to be here. Not to mention their cheap drinks. If you wanted a fun, inexpensive buzz this was the perfect place.

Their lenient ID policy helped too.

The story of his first Kurt Hummel sighting went something like this: Spinning around on his barstool, after ordering himself a vodka coke and getting a weird look from the bartender, to admire the decor. Dark blue walls with high ceilings. Metal lion heads at every corner. Plenty of multicolored lights dancing over the patrons.

That’s when he saw him.

Bright blue eyes in a sea of dancers. Pushing his way out of the center of the dance floor.

He tells their friends for weeks to come that it was Kurt’s silver shirt that caught his attention that night. Blaine hadn’t known anyone could pull off such a color. It appeared to be made of silk and doused in glitter with the way it shined under the colorful lights in the club.

But that’s all fiction. A story he created because he was laughably bad at hiding his feelings. It took four days after he spun this tale for Tina and Angie to ask questions over lunch. By this point, Blaine had already had his heart broken by Kurt but kept up pretenses for the girls.

What’s his name?

Who’s got you smiling like that?

Someone put a twinkle in your eyes.

Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.

Even when Blaine knew there was no hope, his heart held on. Kurt Hummel had left his mark on him from just one measly conversation. So, he lied and told them he had a crush on some guy he saw at the club. A guy he didn’t speak to and would never see again. A guy whose name would never leave his lips.

Tina called him a hopeless romantic. Angie insisted Blaine would see him again.

If only she had known how right she was. Kurt Hummel wasn’t just some guy he saw in passing. Kurt had actually been at the bar that night dressed in that exact shirt but it wasn’t the first time Blaine had seen him.

Actually, Kurt went to his school. Not that any of Sam’s friends knew that—they all attended NYU. Blaine’s pretty sure they’re just tolerating him tagging along to their hangouts because of Sam. With the exception of Tina and Angie. They were the only ones who sought Blaine out—asked him to lunch. But even their friendship wasn’t solid. They had just met a few weeks ago when Sam started orientation.

A bunch of freshmen all desperate for friends in the big city. Who knows if it would last ‘til Thanksgiving. Now that school had officially started for them, they would surely get busy and Blaine’s feelings would be lost in the hustle and bustle of student life. The girls would forget about him and if he was lucky, Blaine would forget about Kurt.

Except, the real first time Blaine saw him was at NYADA. It was actually on the first day of school, four days before he saw Kurt’s silver shirt amongst the dancers at The Lion’s Den. He was using his space between class times to tour the school, trying to figure out where the rest of his classes for the week would be. Kurt had found him in the hallway where he had been studying the bulletin board filled with organizations you could join.

From chess to anime to superheroes, Blaine couldn’t choose which interests of his to pick. The only thing he knew he wanted to be involved in was Glee Club. Of which, NYADA had a ton. Luckily, Blaine already had his interests in a glee club narrowed down.

All of the brightly colored flyers had tabs to pull so you had the information to contact them about joining. He pulled the tab for the Apple’s Adams; the only acapella glee club on campus. Blaine had just finished his three years as the lead singer for the Dalton Academy Warblers and was pretty sure he’d get invited to join the Apples.

That’s when Kurt approached him though Blaine didn’t know his name at the time.

“The Apples?” he asked.

Blaine looked down shyly at the green tab in his hand. He met the man’s eyes and nodded. “I love to sing.”

“Me too,” he said, “I’ll see you at auditions, break a leg.”

That was it. No hello, no introductions, just a ‘good luck’ and a promise of seeing the most handsome man Blaine had ever seen again. If Blaine was going to daydream about someone at least he knew Kurt and he already had something in common.

He couldn’t wait for auditions.

The second time he saw Kurt Hummel wasn’t at the club either. This time Blaine was getting coffee. Standing in line debating if he should get another cronut or should he just stick to a medium drip and be on his way. Then he heard this voice coming from a table behind him.

Since their encounter the day before, Blaine had been replaying that melody of “I’ll see you at auditions.” It was getting him through his first week of school.

Friday’s auditions couldn’t come soon enough. Though, in reality, Blaine needed all the time he could get rehearing his audition song. The Lion’s Den karaoke nights these last two weeks had kept his vocals strong but Blaine wanted everything to sound perfect. He had more than just the judges to impress.

He quickly looked over his shoulder and noticed a girl sitting across from that blue-eyed man.

“Come on,” she was saying, “that’s not the Kurt Hummel I know!”

That’s how he learned his name. It was fitting. Sounded like a name that could very well be up in lights someday. Blaine hoped he was there to see it when it happened.

“Rach, it’s only the second day of classes please contain your crazy for another week at least.”

She huffed dramatically. “Kurt, you need to put yourself out there.”

The girl, Rach went on to talk about how she was auditioning for as many off-Broadway productions as she could this year. After all, “we’re almost graduates”. Kurt had scoffed at that remark, “we have another 2 years.”

It was obvious then Kurt was an upperclassman. A junior. Blaine had to stand out at auditions to even be a blip on his radar. He moved up in line, ordered his coffee, and mentally going through his closet for the perfect outfit. Surely tight pants and a bowtie were enough to get someone’s attention but what combination of patterns and colors would appeal to one Kurt Hummel?

When Blaine turned back around, coffee in hand, Kurt was already gone.

Okay, he thought, he already had some practice getting along with upperclassmen. Tina and Angie seemed to like him. Chad and Dante tolerated him—Blaine was cool because he liked college football. Bryant and Xavier were the toughest to crack. He wasn’t sure they’d ever really like him.

But Kurt went to NYADA. He liked to sing, obviously enjoyed glee club and theater. They had to have tons in common.

The third time Blaine saw Kurt was at auditions. He was sitting as one of the judges in the audience. This time dressed in a green army jacket and a tight black tank top underneath. Kurt had his feet up on the seat in front of him showing off his white Doc Martens.

In his wildest dreams, Blaine might’ve wished for Kurt to remember him, give him a teasing wink before he began to sing. Of course, nothing happened. Kurt barely looked his way at all when he walked onto the stage.

It was during the last few notes of Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are”, Blaine found out Kurt Hummel was taken. For a second, Blaine was glad the reason Kurt hadn’t given him a second look was that he was already in a relationship but in the next, he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

The man he had just seen Kurt kiss on the cheek was now talking to him. He was British. And taller than Blaine.

“I’m Adam,” he said, extending a hand, “we’ll let you know by Monday.”

Blaine can’t remember if he shook his hand before nodding and bolting out of the room.

Fuck fuck fuck.

There was no way he could stand to be in that group with Kurt and his lead singer, group founder, and British boyfriend.

That night Blaine had camped out on the living room couch, binge-watching the Star Wars movies knowing he had the day off tomorrow, and eating his heart out Sam found him covered in used tissues and Hershey kiss wrappers, with a half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough in his lap.

“Bad audition?” Sam asked.

He didn’t answer. So naturally, he just sat next to Blaine on the couch.

“At least tell me you’re watching them in order.”

Blaine shook his head.

“Fuck dude, it’s worst than I thought if you don’t care about the order!”

Sam reached over his roommate to grab the remote control and paused the movie. Even though both boys had seen them over and over again, they insisted on pausing it for conversation.

“Talk to me,” Sam said.

When Blaine couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth, Sam pulled his roommate to his side in a half hug, half cuddle. That’s all it takes for Blaine to start crying, murmuring about his perfect guy being taken.

“I made it all up in my head, Sam,” Blaine whined.

All that’s heard from their apartment is sobbing and gentle condolences from Sam, who is still confused as to why he’s consoling Blaine at all.

He may have only known about Kurt’s existence for four days but Blaine had been dreaming about him for years. Blaine Anderson had their whole life planned after their first interaction. His middle name was “too much, too soon.” When the Andersons wanted something, they just knew. The depths of his soul knew Kurt was his perfect man.

The fourth time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel was at the club. That Saturday in September after auditions Sam pulled Blaine out of bed to meet up with their friends.

“You’re friends,” Blaine had said, head buried under a pillow.

“OUR friends,” Sam corrected. “Tina loves hanging out with you.”

Sam took the pillow off his face and forced Blaine to sit up by pulling on his arms.

“Because she’s got a crush,” he sighed.

“She knows you’re gay.”

“Gay and depressed,” Blaine told him before pulling the pillow back over his face.

Sam ripped the pillow off and tossed it onto the floor this time and sat Blaine up again.

“Let’s go, you gotta get out of this room. It’s been forever since you’ve seen the world!”

“I was at school yesterday.”

Sam ignored him. “I picked your outfit.”

He held up his choice. The mismatched patterns are enough to get Blaine up and out of bed.

Thank god Sam only wanted to model clothes and someone else would be choosing them.

The rest of the night had been going fine until Blaine caught sight of Kurt. At first, he was captivated by him. Did Kurt Hummel always look like he stepped out of a painting? For a second, Blaine could forget that he wasn’t allowed to want him.

Then, Blaine caught sight of who Kurt was pulling behind him. It all came back full force like someone slapping him across the face.

They were laughing together, probably drunk off each other. What he wouldn’t give to know what he was like to have a man like Kurt look at him like he was currently staring at Adam.

All his earlier feelings, everything Sam hoped he’d drink away, came flowing back. Blaine downed his vodka coke, paid his tab, and asked the bartender to call him a cab.

That was that.

Blaine walked home alone, texting Sam when he got back to their apartment so his roommate wouldn’t worry too much. Then, he locked himself in the bathroom and sunk to the floor.

If this was a movie, Blaine knows there would be heartbreak music playing as a camera zoomed in on his breakdown. It’s not Kurt’s fault that Blaine can’t help but picture a happy ending with every crush he has. They just had so much potential to be a great love story.

Now it was clear that was a story never to be written. If Kurt doesn’t want to be with Blaine then he’s just not the one.

#klaine #klaine fanfic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #not the one #my fics

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

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"Black Magic" *Part 12*

Ayyyyy I fixed it!

For those who missed it, I wrote this chapter also on my phone because apparently I'm addicted to this story I can't focus on my real life even when I'm out.

Also sorry this is short but it was written in a Target parking lot on my phone. And also-- I just wanna put off "THE" part. 😂😬😘

Part 11

Part 13

Tag list

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

-----

Rafael shook his head, still reeling from your encounter. You had no idea what the hell you were talking about, he loved Olivia. He was sure of it. But the last thing you said nagged at him. Even if you had been some kind of crazy mind reading witch, that didn’t stop him from telling Liv about his father.

He had never told her, and if he was really honest with himself, he had no intention of telling her any time soon, maybe ever.

Why didn’t he want to tell her?

-----

Rafael decided to show you, he went straight to Liv's bridal room and knocked on the door.

"Yes?"

"Liv it's me."

"Rafa we can't see each other before the ceremony! It's bad luck!" She called through the door.

"Well it's more bad luck if we start this marriage with secrets." He replied.

Olivia's eyes widened: was he...was he going to tell her his middle name? All on his own? She KNEW you were full of shit

"O-okay just tell me through the door." Her eyes lit up with hope.

"No, I need to be looking at you or I might lose my nerve"

That was good enough for her! She swung the door open.

Rafael stared at her in awe, she had never looked so beautiful in all the years he knew her. He knew you were full of shit, he loved her completely.

"Liv I haven't been honest with you. My middle name isn't Antonio."

"It's not…?" Her eyes began to well up. It was happening. It was really happening.

"No, it's…." He paused and gazed at her. She was beautiful, she was perfect.... But there was no...safety.

"It's Ronaldo," he lied. "I just wanted you to have the right name on the marriage license"

"God damn it Rafael are you fucking kidding me? She yelled.

"What are you talking about?" Rafael was taken aback.

"Why can't you just tell me your real middle name? Why is that so hard for you?!" She yelled again..

"I'm sorry, you know that I'm lying? You know my real middle name?"

"What.. ? Yes...maybe, I don't know," she stammered.

"How do you know my middle name?" He asked.

" I, um...did...did you finish the flask I gave you?" She asked softly.

"....Excuse me?" Rafael asked suspiciously. He turned and walked back to his room. Olivia followed behind him quickly.

"You mean this flask that you supposedly gave me for our wedding day?" He asked, holding up a silver flask with his initials on it.

"You mean this nice loving gift, a token of your love on the most important day of our lives? You're asking me if I 'finished this'?"

"I.. well…" she stuttered.

"And what exactly is this Olivia?" He turned and headed to the bathroom of the groom suite.

"No Rafael, don't!!!" Olivia chase after him frantically.

Rafael opened the flask and poured its contests into the sink. To his horror and disbelief, a dark purple liquid poured out of it; as if it was purple and blue mixed together.

"Holy shit…" Rafael muttered.

"Oh my God!" he just stared in shock as the liquid dissipated down the drain. Olivia could only stand frozen in shock and couldn't speak.

"Oh my God, that girl was right wasn't she?" He stared at her.

"What girl? Was there a girl here?" Olivia quickly turned defensive. "Rafa you shouldn't listen to random ass people--"

"Oh no, fuck that Liv!" He screamed. Throwing the flask across the bathroom.

"What the hell was that?!" He gestured to the sink, now empty of the contents of the flask. "What the hell did you do to me?!

"Nothing!" She stuck to her denial. "It's just the color of the special liquor that I bought you. It's some kind of wine," She tried to think of a lie on the spot, but she wasn't great at it.

"Oh that is a load of shit!" Rafael scoffed while throwing up his hands. "I can't believe this...I can't believe some random ass girl knew more about me than you. She's right isn't she?"

"Rafa come on--" She started to speak, but Rafael wasn't hearing it.

"Oh no fuck that, fuck 'Rafa'. We're past Rafa, don't call me that!" Rafael screamed. "That girl was right, wasn't she? You made me forget her. I'm actually in love with her, aren't I?"

"No! You were never in love with her! That shit was fake. It was as fake as this!" She slapped her hand over her face after saying the last part inadvertently.

"Oh my God...This whole thing is fake. You manipulated my mind. You made me think that I was in love with you!" Rafael felt sick to his stomach.

"You are in love with me!" Olivia screamed. "You just needed to realize it," she added softly.

"And you wanted me to drink more so what? You could make me forget this ever happened so that I would marry you willingly? Like your little robot?" Rafael paced the room angrily.

"No I love you Rafael! That's why I did this! I did this for us!" She was crying now.

"That's BULLSHIT!" Rafael yelled.

"You didn't do this for me, you did this for you. You don't love me at all! If you really loved me, then you would want me to be happy no matter who that was with! I'm not your fucking Ken doll Liv! I'm not some guy you can just manipulate and tote around like some lap dog, doing whatever you say. That's not what love is!"

"Rafael come on, just look--- just, just drink this," she pulled out another vial from her bra. "Just drink it and you'll forget about this, and then we can be happy!"

"Are you not hearing me at all Olivia? Rafael asked her in actual disgust.

"You're still just trying to stick to your delusion? Don't come near me with that. In fact don't come near me at all. I can't. I can't even look at you right now," He started to storm out of the room but Olivia chased after him.

"Where are you going!?!"

"To get back what you stole from me!" Rafael yelled back, running out of the church.

----

You stood there in front of the penguins with Maria and Chloe just staring at them. It had gotten dark now. The tank was lit up, brightening the cave with its neon blue water. They looked so happy, just swimming and carefree, not a care in the world.

"Look at you guys," You sighed. "So happy, so innocent. You wouldn't lie to each other, you wouldn't manipulate each other, you just love each other unconditionally," You started to tear up.

"Oh honey…" Chloe came and put an arm around you.

"He's not coming, is he?" You looked at her with tears now dripping down your face.

She looked down at her watch; it had been about an hour since you had shown up there. That was about 20 minutes from the church. So it had been a while for Rafael to change his mind.

"I mean... I don't want to be Debbie Downer or anything but--" She have you a pity look.

"30 more minutes?" You pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright…." She looked at Maria who just shrugged sadly. Then she linked an arm in yours, laying her head on shoulder. "As long as you need."

------

Rafael was in an Uber, heading towards Central Park. He couldn't decide how he felt at the moment. He was enraged with Olivia for fucking with his emotions, his brain, his heart. How long has it gone on for?

Now that it had been a while since his last "dose", he was starting to realize he couldn't remember yesterday, or any of the past week, and it scared the shit out of him.

How could she do this? How could she just take memories from him like taking cookies out of a cookie jar? And with absolutely NO remorse? She was STILL trying to control him even when he was confronting her! Did she ever really love him? Were they ever really friends? It was like losing a lover and his best friend in one fell swoop.

And then there was you. Maybe you really had been Liv-- his lover and best friend. But she had taken that too, he had no memory of you whatsoever.

Even now he struggled to even remember your name. He was pretty sure you had said it in his dressing room, but all the shit he had in his system still left him all foggy. He did remember you knew his middle name, his Broadway dream.

You knew about Eduardo, how could he have told you about Eduardo? How important were you to him? How could he just forget that? He wanted that back, that safe feeling you were going on about. You were absolutely on the money about him never feeling safe once his Abuela had moved in with him and his mother. His mother's house never felt safe, even after Eduardo left.

His Mami was wonderful, but he never felt like he could ever fully be himself with her, because she wouldn't accept him. Which is why he never felt comfortable sharing himself completely, ever.

He wanted that safe feeling so badly….he wanted his feelings back so badly. Even if they were someone he supposedly didn't know.

"Uh….hey man are you ok? The Uber driver's question made him realize he was crying. The driver was awkwardly glancing back at him.

"Ahem...yeah no I'm fine. Can we uh...can we go any faster?"

"Hey man I can't control New York traffic," he gestured towards the stand still grid of cars.

He was still 5 blocks away. He wasn't entirely sure just how in love with him you were, though you were pretty damn hysterical at the church.

Would you wait all night? Have you already left?

"You know what, I think I can walk faster than this," Rafael told the driver as he got out on the curb and began running towards the park.

"....Don't forget to rate me five stars!!!" The driver called after him.

----

You glanced down at your phone, it had been 45 minutes since you had asked Chloe for 30. Maria was asleep on a bench, Chloe was falling asleep on your shoulder.

He wasn't coming. Olivia had won. You had to accept it.

You put your phone down and walked up to the glass of the penguin tank. They were all sleeping, except for one. They all were wearing these adorable harnesses that had their name on them, hers read "Penny".

Penny was sitting on a rock above the water, just staring at the "shore" of their enclosure.

You wondered if there was any explanation for that-- you googled "PENNY PENGUIN CENTRAL PARK ZOO". An article immediately came up. You scanned it, reading a particular sentence.

"....Penny's mate was killed in an accident at the zoo six months ago. Penguins are notoriously monogamous, so it's likely she won't ever take another mate. She just spends her night and days looking towards the place the Zookeeper's took Leonard from the enclosure."

Your heart broke, tears came to your eyes for the millionth time that day as you pressed a hand to the glass.

"I'm right there with you Penny, I know how you feel babe…" You sniffled as if the penguin could understand you. But she still continued to stare, waiting for her love to come back.

You wiped tears away and walked away from the tank over to Chloe and Maria, shaking her awake.

"Let's go," you sniffled.

"You sure honey?" She asked you as Maria stirred awake.

"Yeah…. it's over," you sniffled again, all out of water in your body.

She let you lean on her as you walked back up the stairs to the park.

You were so downtrodden, you didn't notice you had left your phone sitting in the enclosure.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu

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talkingtea · 4 years ago

Note

Sorry for the length

These 2 TF costars sure have kept us busy speculating these past 7 years and I don't remember another show with bts this spicy, dramatic, angsty for shippers, bombshells, intentionally hidden interactions even the ones captured by paps, weird cast dynamics, crazy w/racism and misogynoir and real cases of sexual harassment by a boss. Jeebus!!! Even C posting that "I'm not crying" vid after G/L announced baby news was like: huh? despite her saying it wasn't about that. It's all about timing.

Only show I have followed w/spicy costar drama is the Duch*vny-Anderson rship especially around 1996-1999 on thexf*les with GA straight up telling a mag that DD didn't tell her he was getting married in 1998 eventhough another costar went to his wedding. DAMN!!! There were signs they might have had something at the beginning of the show in 1993-1994 then stopped quickly but you could tell emotions were always high cuz they were some feelings that weren't going away and after she divorced in 1996 and before he got married they would kiss on the lips at award shows like at the GGlobes in 1996ish when they both won and the camera captured them kissing on the lips when their win was announced. Hawwwt!!! They have remained in good terms tho even though he admitted being a prick towards her sometimes during bts of the show. They still do pretty I-love-you type stuff for each other like when she flew from London to come to the premiere of his broadway show in NY in 2010ish. And 3-4 years ago she showed up at his concert and he called her on stage and they were kissing on the mouth right on stage!!! He was divorced by then now so we were like: are they about to get together? Their rship is quite a roller-coaster for themselves and their fans LOL. Some of it you can tell was to get buzz about the 2 series revival seasons they did. But they really seem to genuinely love each other and respect each other. They reconnect often to do Cons for their forever hit show and even when not doing Cons like last week when GA posted a pic of her w/him out of nowhere and set their fandom on fire LOL. And she/they know what they are doing too when pix/vids of them are released LOL. He was probably just wanting to personally congratulate her on all her wins this award season. Fun Fact: CP watched that show and said she wrote fanfic about it and in one interview in 2016ish said she admires Anderson's career. When I learned, that I was like CP likes the same stuff I like LOL. So you know she also knows the DD-GA bts drama and ongoing post-series rship Mhmmm. If G could just act right so C wants to do post-flash Cons w/him etc...

☕️☕️☕️

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goldenslumbersfanfiction · 4 years ago

Note

If you're taking prompts, I'd love to see your take on Dani reuniting with Judy after Bly.

Read it here on AO3

It’s Carson who calls you first.

When you hear his voice on the other end of the phone, you feel like you could sing and cry at the same time. You feel like you should have called him ages ago, but you also feel like there never would have been enough time that would have felt right; too little time turning quickly into too much time between then and now.

Every time you’d think about him, you’d remember that the last time you saw him was about a week after the funeral. He used Eddie’s key to your house and found you right there on the couch. You hadn’t showered in five days, because he would always be in your bathroom mirror, and you couldn’t undress under his gaze. You weren’t making much sense, everything was a blur, but you must have gotten something across, because Carson came into the bathroom with you and held up a giant bath towel to block you from the mirror while you undressed and got under the hot spray, and he ordered pizza and a few penne vodka dishes that would heat up well for you for the next couple of days. He watched a movie with you, hugged you goodbye, and that was it.

But it’s years later, and you’ve traded one ghost for another, and he had asked your mother for your new number so he could call you for your birthday and catch up, because he just found a bunch of old photos from when you were all little, and he misses you.

So you talk, and it’s wonderful, and you missed him too. And he calls you again the next week, and it becomes a regular, beautiful thing you do every Sunday you can, and you talk about movies a lot, but you talk about everything. After a couple of months, you tell him about Jamie, and he tells you that he’s proud of you. He never asks you if you didn’t love Eddie, and you’re grateful, because he knows you did, so much, but he also knows that it takes time to learn who you are, and there shouldn’t be any guilt in that. He tells you about this guy that he recently broke up with, and you are shocked and delighted when he also tells you which presumed-straight boys from your high school he was making out with in the bathrooms during study hall.

It feels like something holy and uplifting, your phone calls with Carson. It feels like forgiveness and reconciliation and it feels like healing.

It’s an accident, one day, when Judy answers the phone.

You called Carson’s house to talk about My Blue Heaven which just came out last week. He told you that you had to go see it and call him back to talk about it. You were partial to Pretty Woman, which came out earlier that year, but you were ready to hear his tirade about how Steve Martin is the comedic genius of your generation, and how could it not be your favorite movie of the year.

This was the conversation you were ready for when Judy’s voice comes through the end of the receiver, and you feel as if you have been plunged into cold water at the shock of it. But her sweet voice still sounds like a particular kind of home, still holds your heart, even though she’s asking if anyone is on the line because you are silent, stunned by it, and it takes you a second to recalibrate, to find your voice again.

“Judy?”

“Yes?”

“Judy it’s...”

“Danielle?”

It surprises you how quickly she identifies you, because you don’t think Carson has told her about your phone calls. But you suppose, she did watch you grow, has known your voice as a little girl and as a teenager and as a woman, has heard it from across dinner tables, shouting on school playgrounds, has heard it through sore throats and through tears and through happiness.

Carson’s not home right now, but she tells you she just swung by to pick up some Tupperware that she sent him home with last week and needs back for a potluck tomorrow, but what a lucky coincidence, because she’s so happy to hear your voice. It strikes you how there she is, in his life, in his house, answering his phone, how close Carson has always been to her when he’s been talking to you. The idea of reaching out to her always seemed like something so far away, something so beyond what you were capable of reaching for, and so you lost all sense of what it might look like, sound like, feel like, to just tell her about your day and know she’s listening with all the love in her heart for you, even after all this time.

You talk to her for a little while. You tell her about The Leafling, about your business partner, about the Vermont winters and how she would absolutely hate them because she hates shoveling snow. She updates you on all of her sons and their new children or their new homes or jobs, and she talks about Eddie too, with a fondness that could only come with time.

But she tells you she’s planning a trip to New York with a bunch of her friends from church in a couple of months, just to see the sights and go to some Broadway shows, have Junior’s cheesecake, and a Nathan’s hot dog in Coney Island, but not to ride the Cyclone like some of her other crazy friends, her head would fall of if she did, she says, but she’d love to see you while she’s somewhat nearby.

You’d love to see her, too. You want to see her, need to, more than you ever thought you could need something that you didn’t know you needed just twenty minutes ago.

There’s a twinge in the back of your head, a tickle, a feeling, a sympathy, and perhaps, a jealousy, that you have not been forgotten by this woman who loved you a lifetime ago. That you have not been discarded or moved on from or buried. You’ve co-existed with this feeling for nearly four years now, and she doesn’t remember, but she feels, and you know her worries and her agonies well, and you know she was abandoned. But the lady from the lake is also you now, so she can feel what you feel as well if you let her, and so you share this with her because you think she might need it just as much as you do. You let her participate in this feeling of being missed and loved and remembered, and you let her run her hands along the fondness in your chest, let her wrap her arms around the way your eyes start to sting as you feel it fully.

Judy gives you her home phone number, just in case you forgot it, as if you ever could, like it isn’t burned into your memory, like the last four digits aren’t the PIN for your debit card. She tells you to call, and you can set something up.

You talk to Judy a few more times over the next couple of months, but unlike your conversations with Carson, you seem to have an unspoken understanding that you’ll share deeper updates when you’re face to face, heart to heart. You decide to meet her in New York in October. It’s Jamie’s favorite time to go on long drives, when the roads are surrounded with red, orange, yellow, green trees and blue sky for miles and miles, and she can let the windows down and feel the cool crisp air against her skin.

Carson jokes that you always liked Judy best, that of course you're seeing her first, when he’s been talking to you for months. You tell him it’s only because Judy agreed that Pretty Woman was better than My Blue Heaven, obviously, but that he is welcome to visit you in Vermont any time he wants. June, perhaps, and he laughs so loud, and tells you he’ll absolutely take you up on it, and you love this idea, of creating a new kind of life, an honest life, with Carson as your friend. You hope that Eddie would be happy, that he’d be as proud of it as you are, but it’s okay that you’ll never know.

You close the shop for the weekend and drive down to New York on a Friday, and when you get to the hotel, it all sort of starts to hit you a little bit more than it has before. Jamie can tell, and when you’re standing there in the middle of the room, between the crisp made bed and the window, unsure of what to do with any of your limbs or any of your thoughts, Jamie comes up to you and puts her arms around you, and you are so thankful that you have her. You are so thankful that Jamie is here for you, for this.

She had met your mother a couple of years ago, and it went about as well as you expected it to. But it’s Jamie, and she knows that Judy matters more, somehow. It’s Jamie, and she knows you better than anyone else, and the only other person you have ever been able to say that about, before her, was Judy.

Jamie takes you out, and your nerves about tomorrow aren’t forgotten, but they are at bay, and you have a beautiful night out with her. You go for a walk along the Hudson River after dinner, and you’re both tired when you get back to the hotel, but not tired enough to not take advantage of this king sized bed, and Jamie proves to you how much she loves you, how she’s right here for you, so close, and you prove it right back.

You sleep so well that night, curled up against Jamie’s skin, the only place you have ever truly felt like you belonged, aside from under Judy’s roof, and you know that the reason you are anxious to see her again tomorrow is only because you are worried she won’t be a safe place for you anymore. You had decided that you would be nothing but honest with her, and you are worried that she won’t recognize who you’ve become, will decide not to love you, will say goodbye to you after your lunch, disappear around a corner, and that’ll be the end of it.

When you tell all of this to Jamie in the early morning light, and she wraps her arms around your waist, kisses your neck where she’s tucked, and tells you that yes, it’s all possible, that this could happen, but that she knows how wonderful you are, how beautiful and perfect you are, and anyone who knows you a tenth as well as she does couldn’t ever turn away from you if they knew what was good for them. You’re blushing and smiling and hiding your face in the pillow, and you don’t know how it’s possible that Jamie can say things like that and make you feel so shy and freshly in love, when you’re lying here naked with her with a ring on your finger with years of nights and mornings just like this behind you.

You eventually get out of bed, and you dress, and the morning passes in a bit of a blur, and you kiss Jamie goodbye as you head out to lunch at the restaurant you picked near Judy’s hotel, and when you see her, she is standing alone on the sidewalk outside, looking up and down the street for you, excited and nervous like you are. She hasn’t spotted you yet, and you just take a moment to look at her, this woman who took you in and raised you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

You feel it again, that twinge, that tickle, in the back of your head, when you let the lady see that this woman is searching for you. It’s a mother’s love, and that impossibly never ending search for one more chance to hold her daughter close.

When you see her, it feels, at once, like no time has passed, and like you have both lived lifetimes apart, but she pulls you in to one of her too-tight hugs, and you sink into her and she smells exactly the same, and she feels just right, and you think, if you close your eyes, you might be eleven years old again, or nine, or twenty-two. You might be in her living room, or at your high school graduation, or at her son’s funeral, or here, on the corner of 24th and Madison after not having seen her for five years, but you know that you are home.

She holds your face between her palms, and gets a good look at you, runs her hands down your arms to your hands to squeeze them in hers, and she briefly falters when she feels the ring on your finger, looks down, and then back up at you with a surprised, but absolutely joyous smile.

“Oh...yeah.” You laugh a little, bring your hands up to your chest, fumble with the ring a bit. “I’m sort of...”

She looks at you with so much love, says, “Oh, Danielle. I can’t wait to hear everything.”

So you tell her, as much as you can, you’re as honest as you can be while leaving out the tickle in the back of your head, while omitting the last twenty minutes of her son’s life. Some information is best withheld, you think. Some lies spun out of love and protection. This lie, this omission, would have Eddie’s blessing, and so you feel no guilt.

You tell her about Jamie, and she is a bit surprised, but not upset. She’s so happy for you, and you can see it in her face, the truth of her joy when she asks to know more about her.

You tell her how you met, how after Bly you stuck together, travelled a bit, settled, opened a store together. When you tell her about the small ceremony you and Jamie had for yourselves on a trip to Utah, where you exchanged rings, just the two of you and the Trembling Giant at sunset, she says something you’ve never had the courage to voice, even after all your years thinking about it, after all the times you’ve dove deep into the pain of it with Jamie by your side.

“You never would have met Jamie, had he...you know.”

Had he lived.

Had he lived, you never would have been this happy.

She says it so matter-of-factly, so assuredly, but still so sad, and you think about something Jamie had told you the last time she grew a moonflower. How it’s meant to die, meant to break down and rise back up, but the memory of it...that’s what lasts. The work you put into it doesn’t go away, just because the bloom has wilted and crumbled. That’s why you grow a moonflower. To tend to it, to love it, for the brief time it’s here, because it’s worth it. You send that material back to the earth then, and you see what will grow next from its atoms.

“No, I...I probably wouldn’t have met her.”

“Well...” she sighs, “Maybe it was him you know? Maybe he...wanted to make sure you’d have someone. He would have wanted to make sure you were loved.”

“Maybe it was, yeah.” It’s a lovely idea, that Eddie might have guided you from another realm with a forgiving and loving hand right into Jamie’s embrace. You don’t have the heart to tell her that she isn’t wrong, that it was his gravity you were trying to escape when you found yourself in Jamie’s orbit.

“Danielle?”

“Yeah?”

She takes a deep shaky breath, and you feel like, maybe, she’s thought about what she’s about to say to you. Thought about it for some time.

“Honey, I want you to know...that you’ll always have a place in my family. But I don't want you to think that...that you owe me, or anyone, any sort of connection to Edmund. I really...I really just want you to be happy, and...I mean, he was my boy, you know? I think about him every day and I’ve got all of our memories, and that’s enough for me. I’m always going to be here to talk about him, if you want, but I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I love you.”

Your throat is so tight, you can not possibly reply, but it’s Judy, and you don’t need to speak for her to understand you, so you just nod, and you wipe the tears that have fallen down your cheeks away with your napkin, and she reaches out and you place your hand in hers. You tell her that you love her, too.

It’s wonderful, getting to know her a little bit better like this. It’s beautiful, to learn about her as a woman, as a person, and not just as the mother who would always pack extra snacks in Eddie’s lunches because she knew he’d give them to you, not just as the women who always had the guest room made up for you, or who grounded her kids when they broke curfew, but as someone you can love outside of all of that, and for it all, too.

When you get home to Jamie, you are tired, and drained, but so full. You lie in bed and she lays behind you and you doze off at some point, but she’s still right there when you wake up, with her arm around you and her lips on your shoulder pressing kisses into your skin.

The rest of your time in New York is short, but lovely, and you go back home on Sunday afternoon, and it’s weeks before you realize that the tickle in your head has been oddly quiet, oddly introspective, and the lady has been much softer and kinder since you’ve reconnected with Judy.

You don’t know much, but you know she was left behind, by a daughter perhaps, and you hope you can show her that the world isn’t always cruel. That even when people do forget, it’s not because they really want to, but it’s always because people can only carry so much, and they’re making room for things. It’s always because they’re making space in their arms to hold other people close.

You think that the lady is contemplating this new idea that you’ve let her have these last few weeks. Reconnection. You think she’s learning that there’s forgiveness in it, that there’s undying love, and pain, and humility, and all types of wonderful things. You think she’s learning to be a little bit kinder, and with every batch of photos you exchange with Judy, every voice message you come home to on your answering machine, every time she makes you laugh and you feel like you’re fifteen again, you notice the swirling gravity of the lady stills, and you feel her rest, and inhale, and feel it all, too.

#jesus christ this just became 3k words #dani clayton #judy o'mara #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #prompts #I haven't had my tea yet so if there's typos in this its bc I haven't coherently proofread

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masterofmunson · 5 years ago

Text

all i ask of you (1)

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader Broadway AU

Summary: You’re forced to work with your famous ex boyfriend on Broadway.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: language

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’m extremely excited for this mini series. I’m still planning it out right now, but it shouldn’t be longer than 7-8 parts if it goes according to plan. I also know next to nothing about theater/Broadway. I was an athlete in high school and I can’t sing to save my life haha. So I apologize for any discrepancies. I’m trying my best here. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

here is the playlist to accompany the series!

“Oh my gosh, Harry!” you shout, holding your face in your hands. You grin into your palms and heat spreads down your neck.

Harry laughs. You hear him walk towards you. His soft giggles touch the shell of your ear. He gently pulls your hands away from your face. He kisses your knuckles sweetly before pouting at you.

“Pretty, please, baby,” he begs softly. His hands gently hold yours.

“No. Absolutely not. I’m too embarrassed!”

He frowns, pulling you up from the chair you’re sat in. He sets your arms over his shoulders and you stand in the middle of his small private studio.

“You’re going to school for music ‘n you’re too shy to sing f’ me? Me? I’m your crazy talented boyfriend. We should be making duet cover albums right now.”

You whine, shaking your head at him. “Harry, this is different! We’ve been friends for so long and now that we’re dating, it’s different. You want me to sing on the back track of your first single as a solo artist. That’s a big deal. I can’t do that.”

Harry kisses you again and smiles. “Sure you can. ‘M asking you to. It won’t take long. The back track is the only thing missing.”

“I’m only doing one verse,” you argue, “and you’re doing the rest. You can’t watch me record it either. I can’t focus when you’re looking at me like that. Take it or leave it.”

Harry laughs, pulling you into his chest and he kisses you warmly. “If it’s the only way I get to hear you sing, I’ll take it.”

…

Jane had been acting weird since the moment she woke up. She didn’t return your quiet good morning as the two of you drink your morning coffees together. She wouldn’t look you in the eye when you asked if she was okay. It was weird to say the least. It was out of her character.

The two of you went to Northwestern’s Drama school and have been friends ever since. She was the voice of reason when you nearly turned down your first Broadway performance. She followed you three months later and you’ve lived together ever since.

It’s been nearly four years since the two of you moved to New York for Broadway. It was a weird transition at first. You moved from California, to Illinois, and finally to New York within five years and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re doing what you love and you wouldn’t trade it for a second. It was the prime reason you and your ex-boyfriend broke up.

It was a short relationship. It lasted the summer following your last year of college. You spent your last summer at home knowing you wouldn’t return. You had no idea you would be dating someone at that time. You broke the news that you would not be returning to California. You thought you’d be able to do long distance due to the nature of his job. You thought he would be thrilled for you. You were friends with his manager’s girlfriend and they were all happy for you. They knew how much you wanted to be on Broadway and away from California. You were meant for New York and everyone knew that.

He didn’t want to do long distance and you didn’t want to give up your dream, so you broke up. It didn’t matter that he was one of your closest friends before you started dating. He knew you dreamed of being on Broadway and now that it was coming true, he wanted you to choose. It broke your heart, but you wouldn’t compromise and he wouldn’t either. It was okay for you to be selfish. You were following your dream.

The last you heard, he released a second album that is no doubt successful. You have no desire to listen to it. It would open old wounds. You were too stubborn and proud and didn’t care to listen to what you’ve heard is a great album.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jane? You’re being weird and not acting like yourself,” you tell her with genuine concern as the two of you walk down the street towards the back lot of the theater.

“Have you heard the news?” Jane asks you, avoiding your question entirely. You swipe your electronic key to the theater on the keypad attached to the back door. You open the door and step inside. Jane follows behind you and shuts the door behind her.

Your brows crease in confusion and you turn to look at her. “What news? What are you talking about?”

Jane’s face noticeably falls. Her brown eyes widen and she nervously scratches the back of her neck. You know that reaction like the back of your hand. She just asked you a question about something you knew nothing about. You were in the dark and she shouldn’t have asked you. She lets out a careful breath before speaking again, “They stunt casted Raoul.”

Your heart drops. Why didn’t the director or the casting director tell you? Why didn’t John tell you? You had grown quite close to your on-stage love interest and he didn’t have the courtesy to tell you he was leaving the show. You worked together on the show for nearly a year and now you have to start over entirely with whoever took his place.

It wasn’t easy getting comfortable with John. You hadn’t had a big lead like Christine before. You were a supporting character in all the shows you were in up until last year. John showed you the ropes. He helped you gain confidence in your ability to play a lead. Now you’re going to have to rebuild the chemistry with whoever took his place.

Now that she mentions it, you’re going to have to work with a pretentious celebrity. You’ve only been in one other show when they’ve stunt casted a character. It didn’t go over well. He was demanding and hard to work with. It was the longest nine weeks of your life. You hate when shows stunt cast.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Great. Do you know who it is?”

Jane laughs nervously. She bites the inside of her cheek. She avoids your gaze and fumbles with her phone. “Unfortunately I do.”

You raise a brow at her. It makes you anxious because of her nervous tone. She doesn’t want to tell you. In the eight years you’ve known each other, she hasn’t kept a secret from you. She won’t start now. “Why do you sound like you’re about to break bad news to me? Who is it?”

You gently reach for her arm and the two of you stop in the narrow hallway backstage and Jane’s brown eyes meet yours. She takes a careful breath in before speaking, “They stunt casted Harry.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp. The wind is knocked out of you. You can barely breathe. You grab on the wall for support. Jane frowns. “I overheard Frank and Nancy talking about it yesterday when I was in the green room grabbing my phone. He must’ve done a video audition since we’ve been here every day this past week. Today’s his first day. I wanted to tell you last night, but I wasn’t sure how. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

You swallow hard and shake off the shock. You stand up straight and let out a puff of air. You start walking down the hall towards your dressing room. “It’s fine,” you respond. “It’s been years. I’m different and so is he. Besides, he won’t be here very long. Frank will be looking to cast his replacement while he’s here anyway.”

You push open the door to your dressing room and Jane follows closely behind you. Jane nearly steps on your heels when you stop in the middle of the doorway. She peeks around your arm and her eyes widen.

Your eyes meet Harry’s and it’s clear he’s just as shocked to see you as you are of him. He clearly didn’t anticipate your reunion to be so soon. You swallow hard and step into the room. You drop your bag on your makeup table and turn to face him. You reach for your script and hold it to your chest. Your water bottle dangles from your fingers. Your eyes meet Jane’s quickly as she stands frozen in the middle of the doorway looking between you and Harry.

You cough uncomfortably and force a smile on to your face as you stare at Harry. “Hi, Harry,” you greet him. “It’s good to see you.”

Harry blinks before standing up from his chair. He takes a small step towards you and you raise a brow at him questionably. He doesn’t take another step. He knows better than to try and hug you. He smiles uncomfortably and rings his fingers together. He fiddles with his rings and you hate that you know that it’s a nervous habit of his.

“Hey,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously. “It’s nice to see you. You look good.”

You nod uncomfortably and scratch at your arm. “Well, um, we should go to the stage. They’ll be expecting us and they need to introduce you to the rest of the cast.”

“Right, right,” he nods. His eyes move towards Jane. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. “Hi, Jane.”

“Harry,” she spat as you tug on her arm and pull her out of the room, leaving Harry behind.

You let out a careful breath and shake out your shoulders as you make your way to the stage. You ignore Jane’s swears and grumbles as you pull her along with you. You just need to get through today. It will get easier as time goes on. You haven’t seen him in four years. Everything will be fine.

You sit down on stage and pull Jane down with you. She huffs and Aaron nudges you gently. You turn your attention on him and he nods at Jane.

“What’s up with Jane?” Aaron asks you, leaning back on his hands.

“She’s just being Jane,” you answer vaguely, rubbing your hands on your thighs anxiously. Your eyes linger on the side of the stage, anticipating Harry’s inevitable arrival. You hate it.

Harry walks on stage behind Frank, the director of the show, a few seconds later. The cast murmurs and gasps at the sight of him and all you want to do is shrivel up and die. You avoid his gaze. You stare down into your lap awkwardly.

Frank claps his hands together and you look up to watch him. “As you may have heard, John has made the decision to leave the show. As sad as it is, it has given us as a company to work with none other than the fabulous Harry Styles in the meantime,” he exclaims. It makes your blood boil and you grit your teeth. “He will be with us for the next six weeks as Raoul. We want him to feel at home while he’s here, so don’t be shy and introduce yourselves. As of right now, however, I want Aaron and Y/n to work with Harry. Everyone else knows what to do.”

You resist the urge to pout and groan. It’s not Frank’s fault. You have to remind yourself of that. No one knows that you used to date Harry. He’s an incredibly private person and it was no exception while you were dating. It’s not like you wanted to broadcast you were an ex of his either. You’re not Kendall Jenner or Taylor Swift, so why would anyone care? You’re nothing compared to the celebrities he’s dated or has been linked to in the past.

Jane squeezes your hand in silent support before running off to work on her lines. Aaron helps you up from the floor and you walk towards Harry with Aaron at your side. You ignore Harry’s lingering eyes.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Aaron introduces himself, shaking Harry’s hand. “Your new album is fantastic. I’m super excited to work with you, and I’m sure Y/n is too.”

“Thank you, I’m excited as well. I’ve never thought I’d be on Broadway. It was always Y/n’s thing, anyway,” Harry replies.

Your eyes widen and you swallow hard. Shit. Now they know that you know Harry. This is already turning into a disaster. You want nothing more than to strangle Harry.

“Oh?” Aaron turns to look at you. You wipe your hands against the sides of your jeans nervously. “You never told me you knew Harry, Y/n.”

You laugh uncomfortably. You bite the inside of your cheek and let out an anxious breath. You need to save your ass. You have to for the sake of the show. They don’t need to know that you used to date. They don’t need to know that Harry broke your heart.

“It’s never come up in conversation,” you respond easily. “I’m friends with his manager’s girlfriend. That’s how we know each other. I haven’t seen him in forever. It’s been four years since we’ve seen each other.”

Your eyes flicker towards Harry. His eyes are trained on you and you can’t decipher the look on his face. You’re not exactly lying, but you’re not telling the full truth either.

Yes, you are friends with Glenn. Yes, you haven’t seen him in forever.

No one has to know you used to go to his house and kiss the famous Harry Styles senseless, least of all your co-star and director.

“Sweet,” Aaron replies. He laughs and turns to Harry again. “You’ll have to give me all the dirt you have on her later. I don’t buy the fact that she doesn’t like New York Style pizza.”

You resist the urge to elbow Aaron in the gut. Harry could potentially air out all your dirty laundry if he wanted to. All Aaron has to do is ask.

Harry laughs uncomfortably. “Yeah—”

“Not that I don’t enjoy the fact that the three of you are already getting along, but we have a lot to do today,” Frank interrupts, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. It makes you jump. Your nervousness is out of this world.

“Right, right, sorry,” Harry apologizes.

You tune out immediately. Your eyes drift up to the ceiling as Frank talks. Blood rushes through your ears and you have to remind yourself that Harry’s only here for six weeks. It’s just six weeks. You can survive six weeks. He’ll be gone soon enough and you’ll go back to never thinking about him. Hopefully you won’t run into him four years from now. He’ll disappear out of your life in six weeks. It’ll be fine.

“Y/n, I want you to start from the beginning with Harry. We’ll work our way up to blocking next week and have a dress rehearsal before his debut. It’ll be a very long, tiring week, but I have faith in you. Start with the scenes with just the two of you and we’ll work our way up from there. Let me know when you’ve warmed up so I can be there. Julie is waiting for you in rehearsal room two.”

You nod slowly and you walk off stage towards the rehearsal room. Harry follows behind you and you step inside the room. Harry shuts the door and you hug Julie.

“Hi, Harry. I’m Julie, one of the vocal coaches on staff. I’ll be helping you get acquainted with Y/n’s vocal abilities so you know when to project. I know this is redundant, but Broadway is an art within itself. It’s much different from what you’re used to.”

Harry nods, shaking her hand before opening his script. You take a quick peek and notice that it’s already marked up. At least he’s prepared.

“I’m excited to learn,” Harry tells her with an eager smile. “I’m a fast learner.”

“Good, now let’s warm up.”

You set your script and water bottle down before shaking out your hands. You let out a nervous breath and ignore Harry’s lingering gaze.

In the short time you were with Harry, you were too bashful and insecure to sing in front of him. He’s the rockstar. He’s the celebrity with millions of adoring fans. He’s worshiped and you are not.

Your insecurities always got the better of you. You knew you were talented. You went to one of the best theater schools in the country. However, you actively avoided singing around Harry while you were dating. It didn’t matter that you could sing circles around him. He was the one with the fame and following. You were a broke college graduate.

You start to warm up and avoid looking over at Harry as you sing. You stop when Julie says your name. Harry approaches you and you start to warm up together.

You warm up for another five minutes before Julie stops you. You take a drink of water before grabbing your script. The door opens and you turn to look behind you.

Frank enters with Aaron behind him.

“Let’s start in the middle of Think of Me, right before Raoul enters,” Julie states.

You nod and Harry reaches for his script. He flips through the pages and Julie sits down at the piano. Her eyes flicker towards Harry.

“Remember, this is the first time Raoul sees Christine since they were children. He’s enamored by her, so you need to convey that in your singing.”

Harry nods and Julie starts to play the piano. You start to sing and Harry’s eyes soften as he looks at you. You’re clearly more comfortable than he is. You’re in your element. He is not.

Harry misses his cue and you turn to look at him. The piano stops and Harry’s face flushes an embarrassing shade of pink.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m a bit nervous.”

Your brows crease in disbelief. You don’t believe him. There’s only five of you in the room. He’s performed in front of hundreds of thousands of fans and he’s nervous now? You don’t buy it.

Julie starts the piano again and you start over. He starts to sing and your eyes meet his. You sing again until Frank cuts you off.

It’s obvious that he notices how tense you are. You’re staring at Harry like you want to kill him. You’re not looking at him like Christine would be looking at Raoul when they see each other for the first time after so many years apart. You don’t feel an ounce of love or compassion for him, and it’s conveyed on your face.

“Listen, I know Harry’s taking John’s place and it’s only natural that you miss him, but we don’t have time for an awkward stage. You need to be comfortable with Harry. I know you can do it. Let’s try All of Ask of You.”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to snap at your director. You force yourself to relax and shake away your anger. You set your script down on top of the piano and turn towards Harry. He flips through his script again and Julie starts playing the piano.

Harry’s eyes meet yours and he briefly looks down at his script before he starts to sing. It makes you feel weird. You hadn’t sang together while you were dating and now you’re being forced to as exes.

You relax your shoulders and your fiery gaze as you sing. It makes your heart race as you look at each other and you hate it. You absolutely hate it. You’re singing about love and always being there for each other, something your relationship with Harry lacked in the first place.

The song ends and you turn to look over at Frank and Aaron. Frank claps, clearly happy with how the two of you sang. It was definitely better than before. You swallow hard and drink your water.

“Great start. I’m happy with the progress. I know that it’s only day one, but we have ten days until Harry’s debut and it’ll fly by. These next ten days are going to be very long and very tiring, but it’ll be worth it in the end. I want the two of you to spend some time together outside the theater. Aaron told me that you do know each other, but you need to be comfortable enough to sell that your characters are in love. Keep in mind, you kiss about five or six times throughout the show. It’ll help the character’s chemistry if the two of you get reacquainted off stage.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You don’t need reminding that you have to kiss Harry. The last thing you want is to kiss your ex boyfriend, but you have to. Now it’s your job.

You nod and so does Harry. Frank and Aaron leave and you tune out Julie again.

You do as you’re told. You help Harry when you need to as you get comfortable singing with him. It takes much longer than you anticipated and you try your best not to snap at him. Julie doesn’t need to know that Harry is your ex boyfriend.

When it’s time for lunch, you disappear to find Jane. You find her in your dressing room waiting for you. You pull your coat on and grab your purse.

“Ready?” Jane asks you.

“God, yes. I need a drink,” you tell her.

Jane laughs, shaking her head at you. “It’s only 11:30.”

You roll your eyes at her. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“It was that bad?”

“Don’t even get me started,” you roll your eyes.

You walk out of your dressing room and nearly run into Harry. You stumble back into Jane and Harry reaches for your shoulders to steady you. You glare at him and pull away from his touch.

You step around Harry and he says your name softly. “Where are you going?”

“Lunch. I’ll be back in an hour.”

You walk out of the theater with Jane at your side. You let out a loud sigh of relief. “Jesus, this is going to be the longest six weeks of my life.”

Jane laughs loudly as the two of you walk down the street to your favorite deli.

#pls tell me what u think !!!!! pls pls #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry x reader #harry imagine #harry imagines #my writing

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13dead-ends · 4 years ago

Text

Train Ride

Young Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Henry for years and after high school you decide to go on a trip of a lifetime. Your longtime crush on him only gets worse as the trip goes on.

Word Count: 4531

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please wear a condom, folks), oral/face riding, swearing, teeth rotting fluff at the end,

A/N: So my first smut is here! It’s shortish, but I liked it, Also @hellcaster901 said it was good so I posted. This fic literally came from a picture of Henry Cavill I sent to her. Thanks for encouraging me to post anything and everything!

Enjoy!! <3

I stared at Henry in as he ran down the beach into the water. His back muscles glinted in the sun as he came back up, hair wet and trunks clinging to his thighs. I swallowed, adjusting my position in the beach chair, the umbrella keeping me from frying completely. While my skin had burned plenty of times on this trip, Henry’s had only gotten golden brown. Only a burn every now and then on his nose and cheeks. I sighed. Why do I notice every little detail about Henry? I shook my head and went back to my book; staring was starting to get creepy. I couldn’t really focus on it though, the heat, and the waves, and other things distracted me. Henry’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since middle school and decided to go backpacking a few years after we graduated high school. We were on country four now. The Bahamas had treated us nicely, but it was our last day here. We had decided on America next, we would fly to New York and spend a few days there, then travel the country by train or bus. We were kind of winging it a little, but it was nice. Especially with him.

I had fallen head over heels for him in 11th grade. When we were younger I didn’t see him as more than a friend, but when came back from living with his uncle that summer, something hit me. More like punched me in the gut. I don’t know what it was or why, but here I am, almost three years later and still feeling butterflies from just him looking at me. I shut my book, I had reread the same paragraph a thousand times. I set it on my towel and sunk in my chair, soaking in the heat, and shutting my eyes.

“Y/N,” Henry had walked up so quietly that I jumped when he spoke. “You should get in, it’s perfect.” I opened my eyes, and there was Henry still out in the sun, drying off. I tried to calm my heart down a little with a breath.

“I will, I’m just enjoying the heat for a little.”

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Henry had not let the fact that I had turned lobster red in Egypt go. I had forgot to put on sunscreen when we went to the pyramids. He teased me, but he also liked to check in on me.

“Yes, mom.” He chuckled and it was like music to my ears. “Did you?” I pulled my sunglasses down and stared at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He plopped down on the towel next to me, getting a water out of the cooler. Before opening it he pressed the cold thing on my thigh and I yelped, flinching away.

“Fuck off,” but I was laughing. He handed the bottle to me and got out another one. I drank a long swig and stared at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Any places in America that are a must-see?” He leaned back, laying on the towel, his abs flexed under his skin.

“New Orleans, that’s for sure. I’m also dragging you to a broadway show in New York.” I had gotten tickets to A show I thought we’d both like.

“Fine, but you’re bungee jumping with me.” I pursed my lips, jumping off a bridge did not seem like fun, but then I imagined doing it with Henry, and it didn’t seem too bad. “I want to see the Grand Canyon.”

“Me too. I want to go to Denver too.”

“You wanna buy weed don’t you?” He laughed out loud.

“Yes I do! And there’s nothing wrong with that.” I laughed. We discussed possible destinations and then he dragged me into the water. It was nice, though the salt stung my eyes. It was fun to be with him.

…

I rubbed my eyes as I walked behind Henry as we filed off the plane it was a long flight, but we made it. I was just exhausted. We were taking the rest of the day to rest, our Air BnB sounded like heaven right now. Henry was almost to the flight attendants at the door of the plane. I noticed the two ladies who had ran the flight whispering as we approached.

“Thank you, ladies,” Henry said as he passed, and they grinned and told him to have a good day and safe travels. When he was off, and I was walking past them I only got a thank you for flying with us. I scoffed a little and rolled my eyes. I stepped off the plane and moved up, so I was side by side with Henry.

“As soon as we get there I’m sleeping.” I still felt my eyes droop with tiredness.

“Did you sleep on the plane?” Henry had slept through most of the flight. I couldn’t sleep on planes.

“Nope,” I sighed.

“Well, you sleep, I’ll get some food and things for the next few days.”

“Okay, sounds good.” We went through the motions of customs and airport craziness, then took a cab to the place. It was still daylight, but as soon as I saw my room, I was out.

The next day we went around the city and did touristy things. I got a good picture of Henry looking out onto Times Square without him knowing. He looked so good with his curly hair, grown out a little longer than usual and skin glowing from the Bahama sun. I smiled at him as he took in all the signs and logos flashing on the screens.

“When’s the show?” I was pulled out of my trance as he turned back around to face me.

“Tonight, at seven.” He nodded. “We can go eat and just go straight there.” We ate a small bar we found and then went to the show. Us only bringing what was necessary we didn’t have fancy clothes to wear. I had a sundress and Henry honestly just wore a nicer looking T-shirt and pants. We didn’t care anyways.

“My lady,”Henry held out his arm for me as I got out of the cab. I took it and stood. In front of me was the Broadway theatre and I grinned.

“Oh my god, Henry I’m so excited.” He chuckled.

“It’d better be good.” He teased.

“I hope you like it, I tried to pick something we’d both like.” He nodded, pulling me closer to his side as people walked past.

“I’m sure I will. Shall we?” He led me up the steps and to our seats. They weren’t the best, but I still couldn’t wait. As the lights went down and the show started, I felt Henry’s eyes on me. I turned to him and he was staring at me.

“What?” I tilted my head at him.

“Nothing, just watch the show.” I squinted at him and turned back to the stage. The show was amazing, cheesy broadway songs were already stuck in my head as the curtains closed for intermission. Henry and I went out to have a drink before it started back up again.

“Please tell me you like it a little bit?” I nudged Henry as I sipped on my wine. Already feeling the usual warmth alcohol gave me.

“I like it but stop worrying about me. This was really for you anyways.”

“I know but I want you to have fun too.”

“I am.” He looked at me. “This is the best trip anyone could ask for.” I grinned and hugged his neck. He squeezed my waist, his strong hands sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m so glad we did this.” I muttered only for him to hear.

After the show, I was tipsy, and we decided to just walk back to our place. It had cooled down and it felt nice on my hot skin. I always got like this when I drank. Henry on the other hand held his drink well and walked beside me, looking beautiful in the street lamps.

“Okay now you’re staring at me.” I turned to look straight ahead, and he chuckled.

“I think we have a staring problem.” I joked, but I knew I did. “We’re just that beautiful.” He was that beautiful. “I mean I do but look at you.” I punched his shoulder, which hurt me more that it did him.

“Shut up, as if you didn’t notice those guys staring at you on the plane.”

“What guys?” Henry wasn’t looking at me when he spoke.

“They were a few isles down and I could feel them looking at us, well you.” I blinked.

“I didn’t see them.”

“I did, they were like vultures.” I glanced at him, but his face was blank. I was too busy noticing those flight attendants to notice those guys. “I can’t believe you didn’t see them.” I shrugged.

“Maybe I was distracted,” I mumbled.

“Don’t mumble like that.” He shook his head. “You sounded like you did in middle school.”

“We agreed we wouldn’t talk about middle school me.” I laughed.

“I’ve just been thinking about when we first met and how we are now. It’s so different.” I wrapped an arm around him, well not really around him he was so big now.

“Don’t get sappy on me now Cavill.” I squeezed him.

“No, I’m just glad, that we’re still friends. Seriously.” I swallowed but pushed a smile onto my lips.

“So am I, Henry.” I really was, I couldn’t live without him in my life, so if that had to be as his friend then I was okay with that, but I would still love him. I let my arm fall back to my side. “Ha, remember that time you asked Kim out in tenth grade.” He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips together. “You’re telling me I mumbled, she couldn’t hear a word.”

“I swear, little girl.” He grabbed my waist and I screamed, the nickname ringing in my ears. He lifted me off my feet and threw me over his shoulder.

“Henry, I’m wearing a dress you prick.” He held my skirt down, His arm right under my ass.

“I won’t let anyone see.” He chuckled and I huffed, arms swinging down. I did have a nice view of his butt from here.

“You were so nervous though.” He squeezed my thigh hard. “It’s okay, it was cute.” His grip lessened, but it was still holding me in place.

“At least I had you there to comfort me after rejection.”

“You gotta put me down if I you want me here for future rejection.” I don’t think he’d ever have a rejection again. He wasn’t that 16 year old anymore. He set me back down but kept his hands on my waist.

“And I you. Just like I was there for the Jacob break up.” My face dropped, and I shoved him. We walked back to the apartment teasing each other and when we got back, I pretty much passed out.

. . .

I swallowed at the tiny train compartment. It was close quarters for the two of us. Henry was towering over me as he shoved our bags in the top compartment above the small couch that would eventually turn into the bed. His chest was brushing up against mine, my neck felt hot and I turned my face to the side so my nose wouldn’t brush his shirt.

“There,” He shut the compartment and smiled down at me. “I’m excited.” I cleared my throat and sat down on the couch, Henry plopping down with me.

“Me too, it’s just smaller than I thought.” He just shrugged, looking out the window at the city.

“This train stops almost every day, and there’s a lounge to go to. We don’t have to be in here the entire ride.” I nodded.

“I know, but you work out too much and you’re gonna suffocate me when we sleep.” I almost choked at the thought. We were sharing a bed. I hadn’t shared a bed with Henry since we were kids. I stared at my feet.

“Is that how I get rid of you?” I kicked him. “Stop hitting me when you don’t have a comeback.”

“Stop teasing me and I’ll stop hitting you.” He leaned forward our noses almost touching.

“Never, love.” I may as well be putty. I’d let this man tease me all he wanted if it meant being with him. I moved back before I could do something stupid. Henry blinked once and leaned back as well. The train started moving and Henry got us some snacks and drinks from the restaurant car. I could breathe for a second when he was gone. I rested my head on the back of the chair. He was gonna kill me. I chewed on my lip. The worst part was that the only person I wanted to get advice from was the one I was freaking out about in the first place. I leaned forward my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I rubbed my temples and tried to relax.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Henry came back inside, and the room got smaller.

“Nothing,” I sat up, flipping my hair back. “I think I’m tired.” Henry sat down and rubbed my back.

“I bet,” His hand stayed on my back. “We can put the bed down now; we both could use some sleep.” I swallowed, that was the opposite of what I wanted, well not really, but I couldn’t handle that yet.

“Well, if you’re not tired, we can leave it up, so it doesn’t take up so much space.”

“No, I’m tired too. We can just eat and take a nap for the ride.” He handed me a bowl of grapes.

“Okay,” We ate, and Henry told me about this game he got for his laptop, but I was trying not to have a panic attack, staring into my grapes, disassociating a little.

“Alright, you’re zoning out.” Henry was waving a hand in my face. “Time for sleep.” Henry managed to get the cushions in the right spots and made the pillows fluffy and ready for us.

“Get in,” I looked at him, but crawled into the blanket, it wasn’t the most comfortable, but I did feel sleep start to tug at my brain as I laid my head down. Henry came in next to me, his side brushing mine. He barely fit without me being squished against the wall. I couldn’t help but giggle at his awkward movements in the bed. He was just so big.

“Shut up,” Then my giggles stopped as he slid his arm around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breathe. “I think this is the best way we fit.” His voice was right at my ear and goosebumps rose down my arms. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just me.” He squeezed me once.

“Sorry,” I pressed my warm cheek into the pillow.

When I woke up it was dark in the train, the curtains were closed, but a small bit of light peaked out from underneath. I wasn’t turned towards the wall anymore, my nose brushed Henry’s chest as he breathed deeply. He smelled like cologne and nostalgia. I shut my eyes again and pressed my face into his chest. He was asleep, so who cares? A gravelly ‘hmm’ made my heart lurch.

“Someone’s cuddly,” Henry’s voice was low and close. My heart started beating fast I looked up at him. “Hey, there she is.” He smiled at me and my legs felt like jello. He furrowed his brows at me.

“Henry, I-“ I cleared my throat, not knowing what came over me. He brushed my hair out of my face and my stomach flipped.

“What?” He kept his hand on my cheek, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. “Tell me, please.” I pulled myself up and just kissed him. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for him to push me away, but instead he pulled me closer. I let out a gasp and he just pressed into me harder. His tongue made its way in my mouth and I hooked a leg around his hip. “Finally,” He growled as he moved his mouth to my neck.

“Finally?” I titled my head back, breathless, but he stopped.

“Yes, finally. I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N.” He continued kissing my neck and slid his hand down my side, landing on my breast, he kneaded it and I moaned out. “You’ve just been too distracted to notice.” He finished but wouldn’t let me respond by kissing my mouth again. I gripped his T-shirt, pulling him even closer.

“I wanted you too.” I sounded airy and out of breath as I spoke, he kissed me all over my face.

“That’s music to my ears.” He started peeling my top off, but a loud rap came at the door. We froze in place, the top covering my face.

“Dinner’s ready in the dining car.” An attendant called. I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, thank you.” Henry replied and when we heard the footsteps fade away, he ripped the shirt of the rest of the way. “Do you mind if we miss dinner?”

“No,” I moaned out as he kissed my collar, making his way down to my breast. “Henry,” I moaned his name as he unhooked my bra and let his lips surround my nipple. I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling tingles shoot over my skin from his lips. I pulled him back up and kissed him, holding his cheeks so he wouldn’t pull away. I never wanted him to go away. He wrapped his big arms around me, enclosing me inside. He grunted when I pulled his hair.

“Take your shirt off,” I pulled my hand out of his hair to tug at his sleeve. He immediately tugged it off and I ran my hands down his chest. He groaned.

“Fuck,” He held my waist, his fingers digging into my skin, then suddenly one of them dipped down into my shorts and he grabbed my ass, hard. I gasped in his mouth, and he grinned. He pulled me closer and I felt his bulge press against the inside of my thigh, and I quivered. He felt so big already and his pants weren’t even off. He pushed his other hand under my waist band and pushed the shorts down, he let me kick them off and then rolled over on top of me. My chest heaved, I felt hot, and Henry’s lips looked red and swollen. He was propped up on his hands, his knees pressing into my thighs. He stared down at me, only in my panties now. I wanted to look away from his blue eyes, but they almost glittered in what little light we had. “God, so beautiful.” He brushed a finger down my side and goosebumps rose in his wake.

“So are you.” I mumbled, his eyes shut, and he had a smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t mumble.” He was stern, but his hand brushing down my cheek made me smile. He leaned down and kissed me, his hands held my waist down as I tried to arch my back.

“Henry,” I whined, letting my hands slid down to his waistband. “Please get these off.” He smirked, but pushed the clothing off, his erection on full display. He was huge.

“Now you,” He hooked a finger in my panties and pulled them off. “I swear, I’m gonna-“ He stopped.

“What?” He looked me up and down. “Henry, you’re taking too long.” I tried pulling him back to me, but he stopped me.

“I’m trying to decide how I want you.” I bit my lip his words sending shocks through me, and then he grabbed my waist flipping us over. Now I was straddling him and my hands were on his chest, my hair hung over our faces. He tucked it behind my ear and kissed me, but not for very long. He grabbed my waist tightly and moved me slowly up so that my pussy was over his face.

“Fuck, Henry,” I rested my elbow on the wall of the train. Was Henry about to eat me out? Like this? On a fucking train.”

“Is this okay, baby?” He rubbed the back of my thighs gently.

“Yes, yes. Very okay.” I sounded like a child, but he just laughed, the air hitting my core.

“You’re already so wet. Is that all for me?” I could only moan back. “What a good girl.”

“Henry, can you please-“ I was cut off by his mouth on my pussy. I covered my mouth to keep from the entire train from hearing me.

“Is that what you wanted?” He whispered, then went back to kissing and licking me. My legs were quivering, Henry’s hands were doing most of the work holding me up. “God, you taste so good.” I whimpered under my hand.

“Henry,” I felt like I was gonna burst. “I think I-“ His mouth stopped and he pushed me back and his cock slid through my folds. I moaned out and he grunted. I fell over, my forehead on his chest.

“Fuck, I want to feel you.” Henry growled in my ear.

“Please, I want to feel you too.” I kissed his chest, feeling sticky with sweat.

“So many pleases, what a polite girl.” His hand slid down between us and he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance. I took a shaky breath. “Are you ready baby?”

“Yes,” My eyes closed as I felt his head push into me. “Fuck, oh my god-“ I was a mess above him, but as he entered into me fully he pushed me up, so I was sitting on him.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” I must’ve looked insane, but he smirked up at me. He gripped my hips and started moving them for me. He was so large that every new movement made him brush a new part of me. I was going to snap. “Yes, there you go.” He grunted and groaned as he fucked me and it only added more pleasure. I loved hearing him. He picked up the pace, thrusting into me now. I arched my back.

“Please make me cum, Henry,” I was out of breath as I spoke, my chest heaved for air.

“God, yes, baby girl. Cum for me.” That was all I needed; bliss washed over me as a came. My legs pressed into Henry and my hands fisted over the blankets. “Good girl,” I collapse over him, my body flopping over his. He locked his arms around me, our skin pressing together, and he thrusted up into me until he came inside me. I whimpered at the overwhelming feeling having only just come down. He grunted in my ear as he fell over the edge, the sound sending tingles through me. We were panting together, my face pushed into his neck. He released me from his arms, and then pulled me off of him. I shivered as I felt the emptiness without him.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He ran his fingers through my hair, and I nuzzled closer.

“Yeah, I am.” I whispered. He moved me off him and kissed me.

“Let’s clean you up, okay?” I could only nod, feeling too tired to do much else. He got a towel and wiped away his mess for me, and then started kissing me. Fluttery little kisses up my stomach, in between my breasts. I giggled as he reached my neck. He threw the towel on the floor and kissed my lips. I looped my arms around his neck, smiling into his mouth. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?” He pulled away and laid beside me, pulling me to his side. His kissed the top of my head.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” I drew circles in his chest and the sweat on my body started to cool.

“I tried to give you hints.” He chuckled. “I literally invited you to kiss me earlier.” I smacked his chest and sat up, feeling goosebumps rise, it was getting chilly. “Hey, where are you going?” I crawled over Henry, my knees on one side and my hands on the other. I picked up his shirt from the ground and pulled it on. I barely had my head through the hole before Henry pulled me back to his chest.

“I’m completely oblivious.” I scoffed. I was too distracted by him to notice him. His arms were around me tight. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pulled up the blankets.

“It’s okay, you finally figured it out.”

I woke up in the big spoon position with Henry. I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. He liked me too. He wanted me too. I pressed my nose into his back, wrapping my legs around him, resembling a koala bear. His large hand slid over my arm grabbing my hand.

“Hey baby,” His voice was low with sleep.

“Good morning.” I replied. He turned around to face me, he was smiling, and his eyes looked extra blue. He wrapped me up in his arms around me and I kissed his lips. We were making out like teenagers for a while and then my stomach growled.

“Shit, we missed dinner.” Henry chuckled.

“Shall we get breakfast then?” Henry sat up and opened the curtains. I squinted at the bright sun. The train hadn’t stopped the entire night.

“Can we bring it back here?” I wanted it just to be me and him for a while, and I’m pretty sure I’d be waddling down the train car. I laid on my back, hands over my stomach, watching the scenery go by.

“How about I just go get it? You can stay in my shirt a little longer.” He kissed my nose and got dressed and went out. When his footsteps were gone I squealed into my pillow. Part of me thought it was all a dream, but he was here and didn’t reject me. The rest of this trip would be completely different. It wasn’t long before he came back with a pile of food. We didn’t bother putting the bed away, we were sitting on it and cuddling anyway. When the train started to slow down, we had finished eating and Henry had gotten his laptop out and I got dressed. He wanted to show me how to play some game. He was sitting against the wall and I was in between his legs, the laptop on my lap. His arms reach around me to show me how to use the keys.

“Henry you know I’m not good at these.” He chuckled.

“I know, it’s just fun seeing you try.” I rolled my eyes.

“Where are we again?” I looked out the window as the train stopped. Henry shut his laptop, setting it aside and getting out of bed.

“Let’s go find out.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room.

#henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #fanfiction #oneshots #junewrites

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secretradiobrooklyn · 4 years ago

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Get In Moses Edition | 2.13.21

Secret Radio | 2.13.21 | Hear it here.

art by Paige, liner notes mostly by Evan, *means Paige

1. Chantal Goya - “Tu m’as trop menti”

From the movie “Masculin feminin,” a DVD we borrowed from Tim. This is the film where Godard was whispering the lines into a headset of the actor, so they were learning their lines literally as they were saying them. This is the opening song. Not particularly Valentine’s Day, in that it’s about lying too much… but still there’s a dissatisfaction that is undeniably a part of French romance.

2. Human League - “(Keep Feeling) Fascination”

Such a square song! But the keys hook is so immortally beautiful, with its crucial warble. The rest of the song is sweetly and innocently ‘80s. It reminds me of being in art class in high school, fully participating in the aesthetic crimes of the era.

3. Marijata - “Break Through” - “Afro-Beat Airways”

Analog Africa is just now releasing a repress of this long sold-out collection. I’d listened to it before, but I guess that was before I knew about Marijata (thanks again, Jeffrey!) because it was a shock to discover a track by one of our very favorite Ghanaian discoveries. So far as I knew, Marijata only released one album of four songs — which is fantastic — and then eventually started backing a guy named Pat Thomas. Those records, unfortunately, are nowhere near as vital and fascinating as their own record. So finding this song was a welcome revelation! I should also say that, no surprise, the whole collection is a banger from front to back, and will definitely show up again on the show.

4. Philippe Katerine (avec Gérard Depardieu) - “Blond”

This strange guy is a kind of joker songwriter in French pop, as far as I can tell. This song is all about what one can get away with if one is blond. He’s a really fascinating character, a tiny bit like Beck maybe, in the sense that he seems to have made a successful career of taking unexpected directions. He’s also an actor, working with Claire Denis (!), Jonathan Demme and Gille Lellouche among many others. He was also in “Gainsbourg - A Heroic Life,” which is an excellent movie that we highly recommend. (We had no idea who he was when we saw it at the St. Louis Film Festival.) Also, he appears to be married to Gérard Depardieu’s daughter, which would seem to explain this particular guest star.

- The Texas Room - “Cielito Lindo”

Several years ago, a producer in St. Louis put together the amazing album known as “The Texas Room,” which brought together immigrants from all over the world who currently lived in St. Louis. That meant Bosnians, Cameroonians, Mexicans, and native-born Americans… including Andy Garces, a fellow Paige went to high school with — His mom was Paige’s voice teacher as a matter of fact — who recorded this strange and excellent version of “Cielito Lindo.” The release party for the album was one of the greatest nights we spent in that or any city, dancing our faces off to all kinds of music. At one point the Bosnians got so excited they took over the room, shouting along and hoisting up their guy in the air. Basil Kincaid did the art for the album, and I think that’s the night we finally met. We have one of his collages on our studio wall right now — right over there!

5. The Modern Lovers - “I’m Straight” *

When we got the current SK van (circa 2015) we were super excited because we could finally bring out other musicians on the road and we could also have folks from other bands that we were out with jump in the van with us for a stretch. That February we were on tour with Jamaican Queens, and our friend Andy Kahn came out with us to play guitar. Not only is Andy a rad musician and great guy to be around, but he was an excellent road DJ. Somehow I made it to 30 without getting into The Modern Lovers (I know, crazy!) Andy has great taste and had a well appointed iPod so he was the official van DJ pretty much right away. He put on this record one day and I just lost it. The thing is, after that I was like “Play ‘Roadrunner’ again!” all the time. When I hear this record I still think of that tour. Andy in the back seat DJing, Ben and Erik jumping in the van to come with to Baltimore, graduating to “truck” in the Holland Tunnel queue, so much snow, host Bentley, “Go cats?”, Aaaaaahhhhh!

6. Frances Carroll & the Coquettes - “Coquette / When I Swing My Stick / Jitterbug Stomp”

I think we learned about this band last year, when Coquettes drummer Viola Smith died at 107 years old (in Costa Mesa, not Silverlake, Paige would like you to know — her bad). The video link below is highly recommended — the whole band swings hard, and the interaction between them and Frances Carroll is well worth the watch. They were considered a curiosity at the time, being an all-female band, and man they could play. Viola Smith in particular had an insanely long career, playing from the 1920s straight through into 2019! She played with Ella Fitzgerald and Chick Webb, and in the original Broadway production of “Cabaret.” Her particular innovation was having two toms at shoulder height, on either side of her head, which she would roll and ricochet shots off. Very cool style, never copied.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFDD_NxtKZ4

7. Pierre Sandwidi - “Boy Cuisinier”

Born Bad Records is one of the world’s coolest record labels, with a huge array of vintage discoveries as well as African albums as well as contemporary pop and noise bands. “Boy Cuisinier” is off Pierre Sandwidi’s album with them. It bears some definite relation to Francis Bebey but takes its own turns just as often. Sandwidi hails from Burkina Faso, known as the Upper Volta when he was growing up. We’re just now learning about him and his scene — I confess I didn’t even know Upper Volta was African; I thought it was Slavic — so I wouldn’t be surprised if some more Voltaic music shows up here soon.

8. Evan Sult avec Tracy Brubeck - “The Cats Won’t Stay In”

Paige’s mom Tracy called while we were in the middle of the show, and they paused to have a conversation about, you know, whatever — the snowstorms, the neighbors, the news. She was on speakerphone so that we could all talk, and eventually I just started taking notes as fast as I could. This is the result. I find it fascinating. That’s Paige singing lead on the Marty Robbins tune.

9. Kil Monnower Alimunna, Grup Hindustanbul - “Tadap Tadap”

Years ago I saw the movie “Monsoon Wedding” by the director Mira Nair. It really stuck with me, particularly the gorgeous opening credits in maroon and orange and sky blue. I was trying to tell Paige about that sequence, so just in case we could catch a glimpse of those colors, we watched the trailer. This song is the soundtrack to the trailer. It’s really an amazing track — so Indian, of course, but with definite Western points of contact, like when it goes to the major chords unexpectedly in the post-chorus, which sounds practically American. And the final outro minute or so is full of delayed, reverbed vocals in a psychedelic style, til it reaches the strange and intoxicating sound that he makes with his voice as the song fades into the distance.

- Martial Solal “New York Herald Tribune” - “A bout de souffle” soundtrack

10. Gillian Hills - “Tut Tut Tut Tut”

Gillian Hills, probably more famous for “Zou Bisou Bisou.” This track is great, listen for those syrupy slides and harmonies. I just learned that she is English, and the music video for this song is definitely shot in Angleterre. Full of famous red phone booths (now famous little free libraries.) When we were doing this week’s show I asked Evan “Is this song too obvious?” He said no, it wasn’t too obvious. If you know why I’m asking, then you know. So is it?

11. Jacques Dutronc “La Compapade”

We’ve been into Jacques Dutronc for many years now, because he’s a brilliant French songwriter and composer. But this one track has been a baffler for many years now. It shows up out of nowhere and sounds like… what? What the hell IS that? Is it African? It sounds African, but — is it? Is it just some strange lark on his part? Paige was apprehensive about playing it on the show, even though we both really enjoy it, because we couldn’t tell if it was somehow demeaning to someone. But eventually I argued that we don’t know what the hell most of the singers are saying in the songs we play, or which cultural taboos they’re transgressing, and the same is true in this case. If it is somehow offensive to anyone, I hope it’s clear that wasn’t our intention. But… I don’t know. I don’t think it is. I think it just comes from a cultural heritage and context that is French in a way Americans cannot understand or appreciate. In any case, it’s an amazing performance and recording!

12. K. Frimpong & His Cubanos Fiestas - Me Da A Ɔnnda”

Research into African rock and styles eventually brought us to K. Frimpong and His Cubanos Fiestas, which has turned out to be a satisfying step into the Ghanaian highlife/Cuban scene. I love the keyboard hooks in this one and the way the patterns just roll on and on with each other like a river, in no hurry but pulled forward by their own currents. He was also a visual artist — his art appeared on the cover of last episode’s Nyame Bekyere album. This was also the first time I’ve encountered the character “Ɔ” in the wild. I have zero idea how it is pronounced.

13. They Might Be Giants - “Birdhouse In Your Soul”

“Not to put too fine a point on it / Say I’m the only bee on your bonnet / Make a little birdhouse in your soul.” I remember when I first realized that was a feeling I was feeling — hoping to build a birdhouse in the soul of another, to be inside one another in a little protected place. The rest of the song is a nerd-rock dream palace I love as much as any other nerd, but the chorus is where I discovered an emotion I hadn’t suspected was there when I first heard and fell for this song and this band in high school (thanks, Jeremy Peterson!).

Paige adds: This song is blowing my mind. I don’t like writing lyrics, my ratio of melodies and harmonies to lyrics way out of whack. Evan brought this song back into our lives this week when Sleepy Kitty was asked what our favorite love songs are on a real radio show. We’ve been listening to it a bunch since Thursday and damn, these lyrics are good. It’s really reminding me that you can write about ANY.THING. Blue Canary in the freakin’ outlet by the light switch. Looking at the lighthouse picture. It’s a clinic. I learned something, and I can go home.

On the original topic, I love thinking of this as a love song. If you hear a love song, it’s a love song. It’s a love song.

14. Sleepy Kitty - “Tu veux ou tu veux pas” *

I took two years of French in high school and missed out junior and senior year because of a scheduling lulu that made 3rd and 4th year French conflict with advanced painting which was the primary reason I was taking French in the first place. I’m still not over it. Years later, I’m at Electropolis (in my memory) and I hear this Brigitte Bardot song on Tim’s excellent sound system and I can understand…most?…some…of it! I fell in love with this song and with French again and started stumbling, scrabbling at it again. We started working up this cover. Thank you Suzie Gilb for helping with the pronunciation. We did a 7” of this song and it’s a rare SK track with me playing trombone on it.

15. The Velvet Underground - “I Love You” *

I don’t really have much to say about this track except that it reminds me of flying to Germany because I got the 5 Disc set with all the extras on it a few days before leaving for a high school foreign exchange program. I was so happy to have those discs to absorb on the long flight, and come to think of it, it really inflected the whole trip.

16. Secret Song - “African Scream Contest”

The genesis of our love for African rock/funk/whatever (if for a moment we don’t count the profoundly influential “Graceland”) is the immortal collection “Legends of Benin,” put out by Analog Africa. As soon as we dug further for our favorites from that collection, we found “African Scream Contest” vols 1 and 2. I was drawn to the second one because it had a killer track by our hero Antoine Dougbé, but eventually spent as much time with the first volume. Both are absolutely fantastic. Part of what I love so much about them is learning how much of an impact James Brown and his band had on African music, which is super apparent throughout these collections and especially this track. The drums and the grunts and the hard stops and the horn blasts — it’s all there.

One of the finest elements of these records is the hidden track at the end, tucked five or so minutes back from the last song. These are often some of the hottest tracks on the album, well worth the wait, and this mystery song is no exception. Unfortunately, though, that means we don’t know who made this track or what it’s called. Oh well — that only makes it cooler!

- Adrian from Brooklyn

17. The Beatles - “Dizzy Miss Lizzy”

We watched “The Beatles: Eight Days a Week” recently (totally worth a watch), and we were struck all over again by how insane their lives must have been at that time. Yes fame, yes sudden fortune, yes global supremacy, yes yes yes — the thing that I can’t get over is the shrieking, and how it wasn’t just present at their shows, it was EVERYWHERE THEY WENT, AT ALL TIMES ON ALL DAYS, EVERY SECOND THEY WERE OUTSIDE. How completely unsettling that must have been, to be the center of that howl, day after day, year after year.

18. The Fall - “Sing! Harpy”

Dedicated to Adrian from Brooklyn and all those young women and men losing their minds over the Beatles so completely that all they could do was shriek, even at shows where the crowd’s sound completely obliterated the sound of the band they so desperately loved and came to hear.

(This is also some of my favorite violin playing in any rock music, right up there with “Boys Keep Swinging” and The Ex’s “State of Shock.” I would LOVE to work with a violinist in this mode.)

19. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Gnon a Gnon Wa”

So intense! That constant chord strike throughout the song is a kind of high-note drone that we find ourselves drawn to. It kind of reminds me of the sound of a casino, where you walk in and all of the machines are chiming the same note, promising to just take your mind away and keep it safe until you need it again.

- Tommy Guerrero - “El Camino Negro” - “Road to Nowhere”

20. Black Dragons de Porto Novo - “Se Djro” What a slinky number! I love how spare the instrumentation is, but how much power is contained in that one guitar part. This is side A of a 7” put out on Albarika Store, the label that T.P. Orchestre called home for many albums.

21. Helen Nkume and Her Young Timers - “Time” This is (so far) the closest we’ve gotten to reggae on WBFF. I know nothing about the band or the music other than their fantastic name and sound — oh, and the fact that she is known elsewhere as Prophetess Helen Nkume. She appears to be Nigerian, or anyway her record label is. I love the guitar hook on this song, it just sneaks in and steals the show.

22. Anne Sylvestre - “Les Gens Qui Doutent”

23. Parvati Khan - “Jimmi Jimmi Jimmi Aaja Aaja Aaja Re Mere” A lucky find! Someone in one of my Facebook groups posted a video from this album, so I took note and returned later to check it out. This is from an Indian movie called “I’m a Disco Dancer” that looks like a real kooky thrill. The actors appear to have only the vaguest sense of what “disco” might be — or what a guitar might be, for that matter. It kind of looks like someone saw a single photo of a disco night and extrapolated a whole movie from it. Nonetheless, Parvati Khan is entrancing in the song and in the video, and we HAVE to see this movie, with or without subtitles. The smoldering look alone really requires investigation:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUdJQSUcK_Y

24. Nancy Sit - “Love Potion #9” * One thing I’ve always known about Evan is that he doesn’t like the song “Love Potion #9.” When we stumbled across this, I thought it was awesome but I didn’t want to make Evan listen to a song he doesn’t like on Valentine’s Day! Evan says this song has little to do with “Love Potion #9” which makes me wonder, Evan, what’s the part you don’t like about “Love Potion #9”?

Evan adds: I honestly can’t remember what my issue with this song was. I swear, it was like… it was around the time of “Melt With You,” which I also found inexplicably irritating (and still do). I suspect now that there was an inept cover version that first steered me wrong… but luckily there’s a strange Chinese version to steer me right again! Oh life.

- Michel Legrand - “Solange’s Song (Instrumental)” - “The Young Ladies of Rocheforte”

25. The Velvet Underground - “I’ll Be Your Mirror” * This is the song that I said was the best love song of the western world on the real radio. I think it’s so beautiful and so adult. I don’t even know if I would have thought of this as love song a few years ago. When first got into the V.U. I thought it was a pretty song – a neat song, but I didn’t really know what it meant, what it could mean. What’s funny is when I think of this song, I have a Lou Reed version in my head – his voice, the harmonies. When I revisited the Max’s Kansas City live version (which as far as I know is the only one besides other more recent live versions and surely what I’m thinking of?) I realized that the version in my head is essentially that one but cleaned up, remastered, different EQ, and as far as I know entirely imagined.

Evan adds: (Paige has been playing this song recently around the apartment. I don’t even have to tell you how lovely it is.)

*p.s. If you want to hear the piece about musicians talking about favorite love songs on KWMU it’s here: https://news.stlpublicradio.org/show/st-louis-on-the-air/2021-02-11/listen-love-songs-to-keep-you-warm-on-cold-winter-nights

Super fun getting to talk about this stuff and in such good company!

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asoftervirge · 4 years ago

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Of “Love” & Murder (7/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Logan Oxford: Esteemed Novelist

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Anxiety, Logan being A Nerd, Philosophy Jargon, mentions of a previous Murder, mentions of Poisoning CHAPTER SUMMARY: Logan tell Patton how he met Virgil.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: And we’re introduced to Logan! :D This chapter is shorter than the Roman introduction, but it should still bring excitement for people to want to learn how xe died. That’s a weird sentence. lol And yes, xe not he. Logan has had a number of changes with this update and I’m very pleased with them, so I hope everyone else is too. Also, this chapter is PG, so that’s good! Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

Patton squeaked and stood up straighter. For some reason, this person gave off a cold and aloof aura. Much different from the warmth and passion that radiated from Roman.

“You— You must be the second of Virgil’s husbands?”

“Spouses,” the second ghost immediately corrected. His lips curled into a slight scowl. It was pretty intimidating to say the least, especially with how tall he seemed to be. “While I do not completely mind being considered his…’husband,’ I would prefer to be called his spouse. Also my pronouns call be he/him, but I would prefer xe/xyr.”

“O-Oh!” Patton blushed, feeling bad he accidentally misgendered another person. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean—”

“Since this is our first encounter and it was merely an accident, I’ll let it slide.” xe told the confectioner while marching toward him, maintaining a good distance. “However, should we encounter each other again multiple times after this, and you still continue to misuse my pronouns, I can guarantee I will not be so friendly.”

Patton gulped. “Got it.”

Xe held out a hand for him. “Logan Oxford. Esteemed novelist and self-admitted astrophile.”

The confectioner didn’t know what half of those words meant. “U-Uhm,” he shakes Logan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mx. Oxford.”

“Logan, please. No need for formalities.”

He nodded. Now that he thinks about it, Patton has heard the name Logan Oxford before. His cousin Emile brought xem up a couple of times when he talked about therapy (while still keeping patient confidentiality, obviously). He mentioned how xyr essays were really good, but they seemed a little too…stuffy, for his personal tastes (like most scientists/doctors/philosophers/etc).

Now meeting xem for the first time, he can understand why Emile said that.

While Roman had on very bold, fancy colors: reds and whites and golds, Logan was a stark contrast to that. Similar to his own palette but not quite. Xe had on a dark blue dress coat with a white button-up underneath it, along with black suit pants and dark brown dress shoes. A little bit of gold was on his buttons and cuff links, but other than that, the colors xe wore were predominantly dark.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of differences between he and Logan. The novelist had dark eyes while he had baby blue. Logan had straight, gelled black hair while he had strawberry blonde curls. A medium build with a good amount of muscle as opposed to a soft curvy build with a bit of chub. A sharp face as opposed to a rounded one. Square glasses as opposed to rounded lenses.

Regardless, xe were a very clean-looking individual. Perhaps even handsome in xyr own right, much like Virgil was.

“I suppose you’re wanting to warn me about Virgil too?” he asks.

“Is that not why you’re here?” Logan responds. “Or were you just wanting to put your nose into the affairs of a relatively wealthy man?”

Patton pouted. He didn’t have to be rude about it!

“But yes,” the novelist says immediately after. “I am here to also warn you about the dangers of Mr. Virgil Nyx of 613 Rue Morgue.”

“Well take your time. I’m not here to rush you.”

“I appreciate your concerns, but my past before Mr. Nyx is easy to discuss,” Logan tells him.

The confectioner nods, listening to him attentively.

“Growing up as a child, my father was a firm believer of knowledge,” Xe began. “He always believed that it was an incomparably valuable, multipurpose tool, instrumental in identifying and solving any of the world’s problems.” Dark blue eyes casted themselves over to the books. “One of the things he used to tell me was, “If you are ever worried about getting hurt, then seek knowledge. It is our greatest weapon, and our greatest defense.” And so, with that, my ever-growing thirst began.”

Xe went on, “I scoured for any form of knowledge, be that books or even educative television, wherever I could find it, I absorbed it entirely. I read every book from both my father and Ye Ye, every book from the libraries— primary school, the public one, university— etcetera. All of it was not enough for me. I eventually received my Master’s in Philosophy and a Doctorate in Physics, wishing to expand my love of all things intellect and share it with the world.” He turns back to Patton. “Before my graduation, I had published a few theses that were eventually used at other prestigious universities; and afterward, I had written a book or two, which resulted in my rise to celebrity.”

Patton nodded. Then he asked, “Had you known about Virgil before you met him?”

“I was aware of him, yes.” the novelist’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I had heard about the…supposed suicide of Roman Scarlet, famed Broadway actor and beloved performer of the Storytime lounge. I had also heard of his brother’s desire to take Virgil to court without any proof of murderous intent, I believe he was even in contact with a lawyer despite this.”

The confectioner looked at xem in surprise. “Even when he didn’t have evidence, his brother had contact with a lawyer about wanting to see if Virgil could be charged with murder?”

“Indeed.” Logan nodded. “At first, I read it off as some silly story for revenge, not exactly understanding how that was actually the truth.”

Patton nodded. “So…Did you meet him at a book signing or…?”

Logan didn’t say anything of the longest time. When xe did, it was very vague-sounding. “When I met Virgil…well, let’s just say it was…a strange sense of irony.”

…

If he could, Virgil would have openly spat about how much he did not want to be here. When he became as wealthy as he is, he swore up and down that he would never return to this place, return to the old life he lived before he knew what it was like to have money.

And yet, here he was, walking into a familiar-looking bookstore. The name re-entering his mind like he hadn’t shoved it out oh so many years ago.

Catching his eye was the small clump of beings standing outside its old, paint-chipped door; maybe the line won’t be as long as he thought. However, he quickly (and unfortunately) realized that the clump of people outside stood at the end of a line that snaked through the entire store.

Everyone and their mother apparently wanted to meet Logan Oxford today of all days.

He should’ve expected this, and yet, he didn’t. Idiot.

Actual anxiety slowly began to seize his being as he continued to approach. Everyone seemed to have a book clutched in their hands. Most were the newest release that came just before the holidays, while some seemed to be personally chosen titles by the older audience, and then there were even books of essays that were held and gossiped about by students (or who Virgil assumed to be university students).

By the time the line actually started moving, Virgil felt sweat starting to coat his palms. He let out a noise of annoyance and shoved them into his pockets.

He was not going to let his stupid anxiety ruin this chance for him. He wasn’t!

Walking in, the little jingle of the bell above sounded like the heavy dong of a church one.

Virgil forced himself to look around. This cozy little hellhole remained the same even after almost a decade. (He even forced himself to wonder if the old owner was still here. Probably not. Maybe retired. Or dead.)

The lighting was still bad, but it gave the small interior of the store its warm glow; the carpeting was still old fashioned and had that untraceable smell to it; the chairs scattered about the store were all patchy and worn-down; the wooden tables had scratch marks and random-ass messages that people carved in with pencil; and there were still crazy knickknacks and antiques hanging from the walls or seen from the shelves.

For the widower, this place was a walk-in nightmare, like walking into someone’s grandmother’s house. But for the many customers who come and go daily, it was a little spot of comfort.

Silver-grey eyes eventually found the prize he was looking for.

Logan Oxford sat at a small table with a pen in xyr hand. The writer smiled very thinly up at an admirer as xe handed back their book from across the table.

A thousand little details flooded Virgil’s mind all at once. A full mouth that could be expressive if it wasn’t so clearly behind a reserved wall. A face that was as sharp as Roman’s but it was much more angular. Rich, dark eyes that almost seemed black: dark and mysterious, they looked like they were pulled from the night sky. Slicked back hair that would still be considered neat without all that damn hair gel.

Xe were more than attractive than the widower realized. Perfect for being his next target.

Just before it was his turn, he saw a stand full of Logan’s books, all new and old alike. Making sure no one was looking, he snagged a copy before making his way towards the novelist.

The novelist took the book without even saying anything, not even so much as a polite hello. Xe flipped it open to the first page and started to scribble on the first page with blue ink.

Virgil looked down at the book he grabbed and an idea sparked in his mind. He cleared his throat, but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Mx. Oxford?” he pretended to sound eager. “I know you’ve probably heard this before, but your philosophy essays are so fascinating.”

“You are correct, I have heard it before.” xe said. Dark eyes flashed up at him, a brow quirked and his expression monotone. “Do you have a particular question you’d like to ask me?”

He nodded. “Actually, I do…Do you believe that your field of study has been hindered by the teachings of Aristotle, or are you one of those science-y people who just nod and continuously say he’s right without any substantial proof?”

At that, Logan’s head shot up. “…beg pardon?” Xe were a little stunned by the question being asked of him.

“Do you agree with Aristotle’s teachings, yes or no?” Virgil asked again, a tiny bit amused as he made the novelist react in such a way.

Xe cleared xyr throat, trying to regain some composure. “W-Well,” he stammered. “In the case of Aristotle…the man was usually wrong. A lot. Most of his descriptions of the natural world are some variety of incorrect,” xe tell him. “Looking past his blatant sexism, his understanding of motion and forces is wrong, is astronomy is wrong, a good portion of his biology is busted, and science has in fact suffered for it. For almost 2,000 years to be specific.”

The widower hummed. (Truth be told, he hated philosophy. It was basically a bunch of old guys trying to preach certain ethics and ideologies that would eventually become outdated and criticized.) Nevertheless, he wanted to know what Logan thought about it.

“However,” Logan continued, a glimmer of something sparkling in his eyes. “It wasn’t until the 1800s when the atom was officially declared A Thing, that people began to believe his contemporary, Democritus, as opposed to himself.” Xe snort. “Not to mention, according to Cicero, his prose was apparently a flowing river of gold…when it actually was not. And it was because of him that we not only lost science but also a catastrophic amount of classical literature.”

“So in actuality, his works are basically glorified lecture-notes from his students?” Virgil smirks faintly. “I guess you know now why we should’ve listened to Gorgias instead.”

“Gorgias?” Xe ask, looking at him incredulously. “The man was, excuse my Greek, a pathological pain the ass. He didn’t care for objective truth and stated that everything was a matter of opinion, which was always bendable.”

“Exactly!” Virgil smirks more. “Everything is a construct, therefore we tried and failed. So now all we need to do is to hide under the covers until the sun goes away.” With that, the widower takes his autographed book and begins to leave the store.

“Falsehood!” A screech came from behind him, making him jump. He turns around to see the novelist get up and stride over to him, a sharp look in his eyes. The widower immediately stood straighter. Damn…that glare reminds him of a certain someone that he does not wish to remember right now. “Just because Gorgias was able to obliterate Stephanos of Thebes with straw-man arguments and casual fallacies, does not mean you can, Diogenes the Cynic.”

Virgil blinked. “…Diogenes the Cynic?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Logan says. “A philosopher who believed that all Sophists were liars, the Philosophers were too pretentious, therefore taking immense pleasure in poking fun at their logic.”

The widower pondered thoughtfully. “…yep. That sounds like us just now.” A glint of wicked humor shone in his eyes as Logan just looked done with him. “But in all seriousness, Mx. Oxford. You have to realize that philosophy can be a bit asinine, right?”

Logan stayed silent for a moment before breathing out. “I suppose so,” xe states. “All of the big, complex ideas simply come from those who are fallible and prone to…ridiculousness. For every Plato’s Republic, there is a Diogenes urinating at a banquet table.”

“There you go,” Virgil laughs. “I hope you really didn’t get offended by what I said. I like presenting counterarguments just to see how people react.”

“No harm done. Although I must admit, while I don’t particularly enjoy socializing with others all that much,” Hard same. “I would like to talk to you more. Maybe about science-based media— or whatever it is you’re a fan of?”

Virgil nodded, smirking internally. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I would like to challenge your claims on what you call cognitive distortions. As someone who has generalized anxiety, I wanna know what your psychology thinks about my over-reactionary mind.”

Logan hummed in interest. “Oh? I look forward to it then, Mr…?”

“Nyx. Virgil Nyx.”

“Mr. Nyx.” Named after the Roman Goddess of the Night, the novelist mused. Xe liked it. Xe scribbled something onto the back of a bookmark, handing it to Virgil. “Again, thank you very much for coming and I hope to communicate with you again soon.”

“See ya.”

With a finger salute, Virgil left the bookstore with a sigh of relief. He was quite glad that his anxiety didn’t make him look the a fool and that he was out of that atrocious place. He opened the book and saw the fancy penmanship of the novelist.

On the bookmark, was his phone number.

He smirked. Maybe he did succeed after all…

…

Patton listed as Logan finished telling him about xyr first meeting with Virgil. He had to admit, it was rather nice to not listen to any…graphic details about things he didn’t want to know, even if Roman told him in a vague manner.

“So how did you stay close with Virgil?” he asked, remembering the questions he presented Roman. “You gave him your number; did you call each other on the phone? Or did you both kept meeting at the bookstore.”

Logan shook xyrs head. “No. However, I would invite him out for some coffee if I was in the area. And every time we did so, we would always have little discussions that would turn into…not-so-little discussions after a period of time…”

Patton raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

The novelist scowled. “We did not argue, if that is what you’re thinking! We…debated, that’s much more civil.” The confectioner giggled but allowed him to continue. “And, while I’m not a traditionally…emotional person…it was quite nice to have someone debate on certain subjects with me, even if they tended to hiss at me from time to time.”

Despite this slowly becoming a sad tale, Patton giggled again. He won’t lie, Virgil did act like a cat every once in a while. It was actually kinda cute (you know…despite the fact he murdered three people…).

“I would also take him to any conferences or panels that I would be invited to attend or speak at,” xe told him. “He would act as my plus one, if you will. I must admit, even if I could manage them on my own, it was…almost beneficial for me to have him around during those events.” Xe chuckled. “I say this despite the fact that he detested such things, as they tended to prompt his anxiety and cause him to rudely hiss whenever someone— and I quote— “reached his limits with stupid questions.” Not only that, he was not primarily invested in the actual subjects of said discussions and was more interested in the catering they served.”

That caused Patton to actually laugh. That also seems like something that Virgil would do, though he doesn’t blame him at all. In fact, if he were in his shoes, he would be a bit more curious in the food too.

Logan couldn’t help xyr lips from twitching upwards. “I shall confess, there were times where I myself have agreed with his sentiments.”

Unfortunately, the smiles and laughter had to end at some point.

“But what happened afterward?” Patton eventually asked. “What caused everything to go downhill?”

The little twitch of a smile instantly when back to a frown. The confectioner sees xem turn to grab a book that was suddenly on the table (when did that get there anyhow?). It was a very beautiful looking book: dark indigo in color with a title that he couldn’t quite make out, but he could see Logan’s name at the very top. Xe opened the book, flipping it to the very last pages before handing it to Patton.

‘ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS’ Baby blue eyes skimmed through the short paragraphs of text. Logan gave simple but kind words as xe thanked the people who helped xem achieve such a feat, such as his parents and former professors.

Then he followed to where the novelist had pointed a finger at.

“Lastly, I would like to give acknowledgments to my husband, Virgil Nyx.

While we have not known each other long, and have newly become married, but having your support throughout this journey was momentous for someone like me to complete this project. Your harsh and honest (almost too honest) criticisms of my work were what kept me going to make and achieve better than my means. And while I am not an emotional person, nor do I express my emotions often, I quiet enjoyed having your company while I wrote and rewrote my rough and final drafts… And I must thank you for bring me my favorite green teas and jellied biscuits whenever I hadn’t eaten or drank anything for hours on end.

This is the most I have genuinely praised someone so highly (and also a first), but it cannot be helped. I truly hope you see the appreciation and respect I fester for you.”

Patton couldn’t help but tear up. To Logan, they may appear simple, but they were also so beautiful.

“As you’ve read, by the time I had written my last book, Virgil had become my spouse.” Logan says. “We were married in a simple ceremony. Something that was vastly different from Roman’s grandiose nuptials.”

Patton giggled. It was amusing with how Logan was poking fun at Roman from beyond the grave. (In an almost magical way, he could almost hear an indignant noise in his ear).

“But,” Logan’s face grew sad, almost angry. “That did not last long, unfortunately. I had quickly fallen for Virgil’s rouses like the one before me. And, like him, I was met with an unfortunate end.” A deep, almost tired sigh. “To think, someone like him could have been two steps ahead of me in a metaphorical game of chess…I must say, it was truly a checkmate on his end.”

“Him murdering you, you mean?” Patton asked, fearing the answer Logan will give him. Silence. A very familiar silence.

Then, Logan nodded. “Yes. Although, poisoning is the correct terminology this time around.”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Analogical #Of Love & Murder

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deafwestnewsies · 5 years ago

Text

the most dangerous woman in new york

To be the best- that’s all he wanted. To help others, that’s all she needed.

hades x persephone, orpheus x eurydice

read on my ao3!

The room was so fucking fancy for no reason. Plush, green velvet couches with golden lining and carved feet, chests made of real pine and polished so much that it shone under the dim glow of the lamps swinging above them. She noticed that, just like she noticed everything else, that they all swung above their heads to the same gentle beat, an underground chant that no one could hear. Her head eventually matched the even sway of the song and helped her lose herself in the thoughts that swirled in her head, thick as the cigar smoke lazily pouring from the men at the doorways. Should they even be smoking? Seems like men of this stature should want to stay alert at all times- especially when they have New York’s most dangerous woman sitting right in front of them. Of course, they were employed by the city’s most dangerous man. They were probably pretty fearsome themselves.

Eurydice, only Eurydice, no last name, was something of a legend around the streets of the lowly and working class. She had a habit of appearing out of thin air, walking into a union meeting unannounced, and spinning her magic tales of victory and justice that left her audiences enraptured. No one really knew where she came from or where she went, only that she was the best in town if you wanted someone to organize your strike- the truly lucky ones were simply picked by her, no pleading necessary. Now she sat perched on the edge of a plush green couch, heavy overcoat and dark circles under her eyes emphasizing the scrappy look that made her so effective on the streets. No one wanted to argue with the girl who was one hundred pounds soaking wet, demanding the rights of service workers in an even, calm voice.

She was intercepted outside of a deli where she was buying a can of lemonade when a group of men asked her to get inside of a limo. After pouring the drink on one of the men’s expensive looking shoes and calling them “crazy sons of bitches,” they picked her up and placed her inside, ignoring her suddenly violent protests. It was a comical image, she was sure, her sitting with her arms crossed and shoulders raised high in between two men that looked straight out of the president’s secret service, black suits and all. They wouldn’t answer any of her many, many questions, and eventually the driver just turned up the radio to cover her shrill voice.

Now inside, it was very evident to her where she was. It was plastered everywhere, not to mention decorating all of the flower bowls and men’s suit jacket lapels. A single red carnation etched into the wood of the wall, groups of them on the coffee table in a crystal vase. His name was Hades, only Hades, no last name.

Mr. Hades was a mighty king, and he was always making some mighty big deals.

Eurydice did not understand what he wanted from her. They did not run the same circles, Eurydice did honest work for people who deserved honest reward, and Hades was a thief, stealing from businesses that lived in fear of the other mobs in town. Hades capitalized upon their fear, and Eurydice used it to everyone else’s advantage.

She ran through a list of things she had done recently- money she had taken from organizations, contracts she refused to sign, people she had done business with. If Hades had arguments with any of them, she could be in really hot water, and she couldn’t afford that right now. There was an apartment contract waiting to be signed and her landlord had made it very clear- he could ignore her line of work as long as she was not in trouble with the law. Eurydice had a feeling this would be enough for him to withdraw on his end of the lease, and she needed a more permanent place to stay. A home.

So there was nothing that she could think of in the moment, no one with any shady deals, when a man opened the door. “Eurydice?” He questioned, and she was on her feet in a flash. Simply gesturing her inside of the office doors, oak paneling with the same red flower carving, Eurydice noticed that he did not follow her into the room.

Almost comically, a man sat in a high back chair spun to face the wall, and Eurydice expected him to turn around holding an evil white cat and a maniacal grin. When he made no movement at all, another man coughed slightly into a handkerchief, causing Eurydice to jump. This man sat tucked away in a corner, perched gently on a chair in a gray silk suit. He was old, gray hair neatly arranged in an afro on his head, wrinkles framing his dark skin, but old in a dignified way. In a way that Eurydice, although she knew it, felt it in her bones that she would not grow old, wanted to seem when people would look at her and think “Hmm. She is old.” He was the only other person in the room, and did not offer an explanation, just simply cleared his throat once more. “Hades, do not keep the girl waiting. You are here for her.”

“Eurydice.” His slow drawl crept up her spine. “Thank you for joining me.”

“Hades.”

He finally turned in his ridiculous chair. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, young lady.” She bit her tongue and held back the insults. She hated being called young lady, woman, or girl. “Your work with the employees over at The World- most impressive. There are some men who will talk higher of you than their poker buddies, and I would consider than quite an accomplishment.”

“Lee wasn’t hiring any woman on the investigative staff and because of that, their numbers were down. It’s simple economics, I don’t think I deserve any praise for that job.” The heat in her cheeks told her everything that she needed to know, she was blushing. Modesty had always been a difficult task.

Another woman emerged from the shadows of the room, draped in brocaded green silk and black buckle shoes. Her low, gravelly chuckle filled the room as she stepped into the light. “It took more than that, don’t undermine yourself. Lee’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”

“Persephone-” Both men chastised her in unison.

“Am I wrong?” She lazily held up a cigarette, smoking on the end like a loaded gun.

“You’re not-” Eurydice spoke quickly. “He was terrible. Nearly took my left hand in exchange for the newest batch of female truck drivers.”

Persephone draped herself across Hades’ lap. “Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. A lady knows.” Eurydice felt warm under the woman’s heavy gaze and wink, delivered directly from her husband’s lap. Persephone Ceres, a statuesque Greek woman with a face that looked drawn from a heavy hand, all sharp lines and smudged edges. She was famous for simply being her husband’s wife, a rich broad who came through city attractions and slept with all of the workers, men and women alike, and then returned home to her adoring husband who held a soft spot for only her. If Eurydice was nervous around Hades, she was downright terrified of Persephone.

Hades cleared his throat, dropping his crossed knee to create a more comfortable spot for his wife. “We’ve brought you here for a very specific issue- one that’s proved to be quite challenging for us.” She bit back the snark that lived on her tongue, what’s too challenging for the almighty Hades? “I’m sure you’re aware of the Calliope Theater?”

“Ye-e-es.” The hesitation in her voice was more than apparent.

“There’s a strike being held by the musicians. They can’t perform without the orchestra and they’re also under our… special protection plan. Money, albeit from a theatre troupe, is still money, and it's as good as any in my eyes.”

Eurydice scoffed. “Hire more musicians. I work with pre-existing unions, not the merry band of fools.”

The words died in her throat when Hades’ gaze turned to ice and fire, locking onto her. A quiet sniffle from the corner reminded her of the second man, still un-introduced, and at least there would be witnesses to her murder. Although she had a feeling that these folks wouldn’t go running to the cops- hell, she wouldn’t either. She’d die a true strike worker’s death.

“But I could always check it out.” Her chicken-shit soul winced as she conceded, but she was halfway through a really good book and didn’t want to be the character that died before the end came.

“Delightful.” There was no delight in this man’s voice. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk business.”

&&&

The older man’s name was Hermes Mercurius, “A conciliate of sorts,” he had chuckled. He wore blue, wing-tipped shoes that Eurydice couldn’t help but privately admire. After Hades had laid out the details of the situation in front of her, Eurydice saw the clear hole in his original problem.

“They just want stability,” she whispered, tracing her finger across the names of the orchestration line-up.

“Pardon?” His voice boomed down her back.

Her throat was cleared, a frightened squeak disguised by a cough. “Stability,” she offered. “They aren’t hired for every single production. Technically the management isn’t breaking any laws, the contract they’re under is about as shitty as every loading dock agreement, but that’s your answer. If your men hired them more often, there wouldn’t even be a strike to worry about.” She spread her fingers over the invisible map on the table, her mind filling in all the gaps. “Contracts happen to be my specialty. If you send me, I can fix your problem.”

So Eurydice walked alongside Hermes, both of them taking the stroll over to Broadway and 4th, the block home to the Calliope Theater. She had tried to opt for the subway, but Hermes gently pulled her elbow away from the stairs and nodded towards the busy sidewalks. “I’m afraid I don’t take the subway,” he sniffed. “My nose is so temperamental.” Who the hell lives in New York and can’t take the subway? She grumbled in her head. And of course, in keeping with this bizarre expedition, she held her tongue.

Thankfully the walk was short and the day was long, so the pair arrived with time to spare. Hermes took a moment to adjust his suit jacket (they were an awfully strange pairing to be seen in public together) and then walked through the arched doorway, Eurydice trailing hesitantly behind him. While she was seen as a warrior of the people, she was simply another loud mouthed girl with a passion for whatever issue was thrown in her lap. The jobs she received were usually working in labor-heavy areas, shipping docks and construction sites. This theater, while in need of a good dusting, was much fancier than what she usually got to work in.

“Mr. Orpheus, I presume?” Hermes walked towards a group of people gathered together, a pile of instrument cases littering their feet. A tall, skinny boy with a sweep of dusty blonde hair looked up at the mention of his name, and leapt to his feet. He held out his hand, trembling only slightly, and Eurydice was charmed by the red bandana knotted around his neck. She knew what that symbol meant, she had adorned herself with the fabric more than once before, but she wouldn’t out a fellow resistance member in front of one of Hades’ men. They were both here to do a job, not talk politics and run the risk of getting killed. “This is Eurydice. She’ll be negotiating the contract between your group and the Fate sisters.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “We need to hear the terms before we sign anything. That’s why we wouldn’t do business with you in the first place, Hermes.”

“You’d be the on-site orchestrations for every show, with the exception of travelling groups.” Eurydice blurted out. Orpheus’s curious eyebrow dropped and Hermes’ raised, both looking expectantly at her. “If... everything works out.” She was blushing. Damn.

Orpheus scratched the back of his neck abashedly. “That sounds… really good. Let me introduce you to the team.”

After pleasantries were exchanged, the group gathered around a small table where both Eurydice and Orpheus were sat. She knew that her contract she had drawn up was popular among the musicians by the nodding and jostling happening behind her, but she kept her eyes locked on the leader. If he found even one flaw the entire deal could be called off, and she hadn’t had dinner in days. Hades’ paycheck could buy her a damn steak if she wanted it.

“Everything looks in order, no?” Hermes chimed in from the corner.

“Yes.” Orpheus muttered under his breath, skimming the document one more time. He cleared his throat finally. “We’ll sign, but you also have to go through the old lady Fates. And they won’t be as easy as I am.”

Cocking an eyebrow, feeling much more relaxed, Eurydice leaned back in her chair. “Easy?” Now his face was stained red and Eurydice made a mental note to laugh later on. “We’ll take these to the Fates and Hermes here will contact you further about what will happen next. Thank you for your time, folks.”

Hermes was already making his way towards the door when Orpheus called after her. “Eurydice? Can I talk to you for a second?”

&&&

Ultimately she was very grateful for the fact that Hermes was a quiet man, because he didn’t ask her what the boy had to say to her on the walk back. She might’ve been a public speaker by trade, but she was a terrible liar and knew she would immediately blow the entire operation- the Resistance, that is.

Anyone who understood what it was like to struggle in a city such as theirs understood what the Resistance was. A mass organization committing acts of disarray that negatively affected the larger companies and businesses, most of whom employed the very members. A modern day weapon of the weak attack, Eurydice had been involved since she was a teenager. Her specialty was rumors, spreading them like nasty vines across the city until they twisted around someone’s neck and left them worse then dead, ruined. As she travelled from union to union, her vicious and carefully placed words about a former boss, a union leader with no morals, a landlord only after your money, and suddenly people distrusted them with such a fervor they could go out of business. Eurydice was a valuable cog in this organization’s machine, and it seemed as if Orpheus had recognized her.

“What are you doing?” He had asked, pulling on her hand forcefully and tugging her behind a corner. Once released, that same hand curled into a fist that she was prepared to throw.

“What the hell do you mean?” She shot back.

“Do the words ‘It sounds like drumming’ mean nothing to you?”

Eurydice inhaled sharply, immediately looking behind her for Hermes. “Are you crazy? Not here!”

There was a common identifier between members of the Resistance. One would ask ‘What’s that sound?’ and if the other replied with ‘It sounds like drumming,’ they knew that they were in safe company. So those words meant a great deal to her, especially in a moment where they could be killed for knowing them.

“Why are you working with Hades? Just last month you were saying that he doesn’t-”

She was this close to slapping a hand over his idiotic mouth. “I know what I said.” Eurydice hissed. “He didn’t exactly give me a choice. And what does it matter, you’re getting a good deal out of this- and wait a minute, you work somewhere under his protection!” Her eyes danced with fire, angry that this boy would accuse her of being a traitor when he was close to being one himself.

“Work where you can get it,” he replied. “Being a musician doesn’t exactly equate to a strike leader.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she drew her coat around her shoulders tighter. “Well, if you’re done yelling at me, I have to go. Hermes will get suspicious.”

“I wasn’t yelling. I’m just making sure you’re safe. You… You are, right? Safe?” Orpheus’s face softened, his hands fiddling together. He looked bashful all of a sudden, embarrassed about the entire situation.

“For the time being. If you keep throwing the damn words around though, I may not be.” She turned on her heel before stilling herself for a second. “If I don’t turn back up, you’ll tell them I was with Hades, won’t you?” Before she could hear his confirmation, Eurydice had walked away.

The interaction kept playing back in her head. She was astonished that he had recognized her, that he had come up to her like that and so confidently talked about the most secret organization in the city. He was bold, bolder than most, and Eurydice couldn’t decide whether she admired it or found it stupid enough to get him killed. Before she had decided, they were back in front of the homely-looking restaurant entitled “Poseidon's Plate.” Inside were a few booths and a very empty looking register, but behind the kitchen doors was the offices of Hades and company, and Hermes and Eurydice found themselves once again in the lap of luxury.

Hermes went to knock on the french-breasted door when it swung open, Persephone’s calculating smile waiting on the other side. “We’ve been waiting.” She purred, the sound making Eurydice shiver as she passed through the doors. Hades had forgone the dramatics and now sat plainly in his chair, scribbling down something in a handsome leather bound notebook.

“Eurydice. Sit.” She followed his orders without a second thought, once again captured by his presence and the mild fear of being murdered. She had heard nasty rumors about the way he took care of his enemies. “So the contract business went well.”

“Yes.” Her mouth was a desert.

“Very good. I’m glad we could count on you.” He was still writing things down, almost at a worrisome pace. Persephone clucked her tongue from the corner, where she was perched on the arm of a red brocade couch. “We have one more thing to discuss. How long have you been involved with the Resistance?”

If what she had felt before was fear, this was a new type of terror, one that seized her entire body and wiped her mind blank. The most dangerous woman in New York City now sat as the most vulnerable person in the world. She managed a few sputters, a weak denial, but Hades waved away her excuses. “I don’t like beating around the bush. We’re aware of your involvement with the group, and this is why you were chosen for this specific assignment. You’re smart, Eurydice. Far too smart to be working for those silly children who think spreading lies and stealing will ever make a change in the way this city is run. If you want to do something, to be something Eurydice,” He finally looked up from the notebook. Their eyes caught in a piercing gaze- one that Eurydice couldn’t help but be enraptured by. “I have a proposition for you. If you choose to accept, of course.”

hello i haven’t written something for a musical in a long long while but i am back! from outer space! just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face i should’ve changed that stupid i should’ve thrown away the key

#anyways i've wanted to write this mob au for so long and i'm fairly pleased with how it came out #my writing #hadestown #hadestown musical #hadestown on broadway #eurydice #orpheus #reeve carney #eva noblezada #hades #Persephone #patrick page #Amber Gray #the fates #hadestown fanfic #orpheus and eurydice #hades and persephone #mob au

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sanderssquip-au · 5 years ago

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Broadway - Part 2

The squip didn't get a room. It was to be expected, since, as it had told them multiple times:

I'm not one of you. I wouldn't expect the same rules to apply. Besides, I don't need to rest, I'm a computer.

But, Roman had insisted on designing a room for it - either out of attachment to it or just his own need to design something - and while he was working on it, Patton had insisted on letting it stay in his room while it didn't have anything to do.

I don't see why this is necessary. It complained. I can just shut myself down. A physical presence isn't required at all times.

"Yeah, but I wanna talk to you!" Patton pressed, jumping up onto his bed and sitting cross-legged on a pillow, throwing one to the foot of the bed and beckoning the squip to do the same. It tentatively climbed up and sat on top of the brightly-coloured, fluffy pillow - sporting a picture of a cartoon cat and a cute slogan - mimicking Patton's position. Patton clapped happily and laughed. "So? Whaddaya think?"

The squip raised an eyebrow. Of... what?

"The mindscape!" He made a sweeping motion with his arms. "Thomas! Us! Y'know!"

Well, you're all certainly... interesting. I suppose I should be lucky to have the help, even if it is unconventional.

Patton nodded enthusiastically. "It's been kinda stressful recently, and we're... working through some stuff, so I sorta feel bad for having you come in at such a bad time..."

Patton, I was literally programmed to deal with situations like this. Honestly, it's rare that a host isn't having a crisis when they first take a squip.

It quickly doubled back on itself.

Which isn't to say that I won't be needed once he's moved on from this, of course.

"Hey, no need to stress-"

I'm not stressing.

"-Thomas is in a constant state of crisis! You'll be fine."

The squip scoffed amusedly. That may be true, but what I meant is that I have other functions. My overall purpose, as it stands, is to assist Thomas in achieving his 'dreams.' Assistance in mental health is simply a means to an end.

Patton mused for a moment. "So... You're mostly helping Roman, right?"

On a basic level.

"Cool!" He beamed. "Don't- uh- don't tell him I said this, but I think he could kinda use the help. He's... uh... not doing so good at the moment."

And the relief Patton felt when the squip's expression fell to one of seemingly genuine concern was almost tangible. He knew it couldn't be totally stoic.

I can't say I'm surprised, but what's wrong with him?

"Wait wait wait- why wouldn't you be surprised?" The father figment tilted his head in confusion. "He's been fairly alright since you arrived, I was just worried about-"

Well, I won't pretend to know him better than you, but taking into consideration the way he talks about himself, the posture he keeps, and- to put it simply- his thinly veiled facade of overconfidence, it appears to me as if he's incredibly insecure, and oversells himself to a laughable extent to avoid being ignored or seen as boring. If he were a human, I would guess that some of his issues stemmed from being compared to a sibling, but I sincerely doubt that you 'sides' have familial relations, so- why are you looking at me like that?

"He has a brother."

Excuse me? The hologram looked genuinely confused.

"He has a brother!" Patton repeated excitedly. "How did you- was that a guess? How did you know that? That's crazy! You're amazing!"

I know. It smirked, straightening its tie. But, really, behavioural analysis is rather simple for me, and your prince is... particularly easy to read. Now, the half-snake, on the other hand... he's a challenge. I'm certainly looking forward to cracking that puzzle.

"Janus? Oh! You two'd get along! I should introduce you! Y'know, properly. I know you've met, technically, but-"

The squip waved it off. No worries, I know what you meant. I'd like that, actually.

It smiled in a friendly sort of manner, then paused and quickly doubled back, clearing its throat. Or, rather, making a noise similar to that. It was still pretty unclear how it worked.

Getting to know you all better would be beneficial for all parties. That's what I meant. What I'd 'like' is - of course - irrelevant.

Patton frowned. "Why's that? You're just as important as-"

It held up a hand. Don't mistake objective fact for self-deprecation. I was designed for one single purpose, and therefore even if I could 'want' - and it's doubtful that I can, being an AI - anything I might 'want' personally is, simply speaking, irrelevant. I just misspoke. That's all.

Patton raised an eyebrow skeptically.

I'm not sure what you're implying.

"You're not, like, self-aware? At all?"

If I were, it would be quite worrying. It laughed.

"You're dodging the question."

Irrelevant. Its tone was completely composed, but it was noticeably avoiding Patton's eyes. What were we talking about?

"We were talking about how you're dodging the question."

A smile quirked up its lips. Incorrect. I believe we were talking about my remarkable talent for behavioural analysis?

Patton paused to think for a moment. "Maybe- wait, no, answer my question! Are you self-aware or not?"

Oh, for the record, are you aware that acting overly happy and inviting doesn't at all disguise discomfort or worry?

"Hey!" Patton protested. " I'm not worried about anything! That's Virgil's job. I'm here to welcome you, and welcome you I will!"

The squip just rolled its eyes and nodded. Of course. Because the manifestation of morality would have no issues whatsoever with what is essentially a cheat code for real life. I know you're concerned, Patton. I don't blame you.

Patton went quiet, and then nodded slightly. "I guess. It's- it's nothing against you!"

I know.

"It's just- well- Thomas is already in a bad state, and I'm just worried that maybe the stress of such a big change could... you know... not be so good for him. I'm sorry, does that sound bad?"

It shook its head. Not at all. I understand perfectly what you're trying to say, and I will do my best to make Thomas comfortable with my presence here. It may be a difficult adjustment, but I will do everything I can to help ease that.

"Yeah, of course. Of course! I'm just being silly!" Patton grinned. He immediately dropped the facade as the squip just stared straight through him. "M'sorry. I'm not- I really don't- I don't mean to sound rude, I promise! You're just..."

Morally questionable. It finished. I know.

"I guess, what I mean is, Thomas really should be living life of his own accord! And you're like... Like..."

Like playing life on easy mode, or so it's supposed to be.

"How do you keep finishing my-"

Sandwiches? It offered, unable to contain a smile.

"That's what I was gonna say!"

The two stared at each other for a moment, before simultaneously breaking into laughter. Patton smiled sheepishly. "S'nice to have you here. Maybe it'll be fine."

I'd certainly hope so, or what would be the point of my being here at all?

"Yeah... yeah, no, you're right!" Patton decided.

I tend to be.

"Yeah! You'll be fine. It'll be fine." He repeated to himself. The squip smiled patiently.

You don't have to be completely fine with it at first. You need time. Of course you need time. We both have Thomas's best interests at heart - that's what matters.

"Right!" Patton grinned, grabbing both of the squip's arms pulling it from its cushion and into a tight hug. It blinked confusedly (for effect, of course, because it didn't actually need to blink). "Welcome to the family, kiddo!"

I'm not your-

And then it paused. Because despite being nothing more than a hologram, the weight of Patton's arms felt... nice. It wasn't programmed for human attachment. But the gesture was intended as a pleasant one, or so it assumed, and just the concept of that made it smile slightly. It couldn't help it. And that was new, as well.

Of course. Thank you for having me.

#squip #bmc #be more chill #sanders sides #be more chill squip #patton sanders #crossover #crossover au #morality #sanderssquipau #sanders sides fic #is this enough tags #i'm bad at this

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imagines-mha · 5 years ago

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Matchup for @blackrose-arts

I am a female and I prefer male villains(just please not twice, I’m still BIG sad about what happened in the manga!)

I used to be a theatre kid in middle school and highschool, I’m into dramatic music but my favorite genre is gothic metal.my hobbies are singing, animating, and I write Every now and then..I really like paranormal activities and tarot cards..i love jokes and puns.I have a tattoo of a black rose on my right shoulder I got it because is reminds me of my mother’s that I lost when I was younger and I have a few piercings. I have mid length dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and very pale skin, I am 5’2(I get a lot of short jokes from my tall little sister XD) I’m 24 years old^^ People describe me as nice and a mysterious loner, and very sarcastic with a smart mouth...I have the personality of a indigo,and I am pretty quiet which is why I get the loner title from people and I’m a natural flirt...I am very socially awkward and find it difficult to make friends...my clothing style changes based on my mood but I usually stick to death rock I’m bad at excepting gifts but I always do in the end but I always try and make up for the gift...I blush easy and it’s easy to see because of how white I am XD I do hope this was enough information(●’◡’●)

Bro i felt that big sad about twice bit holy shit >.< rip to our man Jin we will always love u keep heaven warm for us xox

Oh damn i was torn between two but bro,,, BRO i had to go with my heart n i hope u enjoy

I ship you with 𝓜𝓻 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼

Imagining this concept makes me cry. Dramatic, charming Atsuhiro meets gothy, tiny YOU. The colours would probably contrast a lot and it would just look like the prettiest painting ever. He thinks you are literally the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on, and makes it his DUTY to make sure you know how treasured you really are to him

You like tarot cards, theatre, paranormal and jokes?? It’s like you just took the “Atsuhiro’s dream girl” checklist and went CRAZY checkin off every single box holy shit bro. Like think of all those date nights,, tarot readings and watching spooky stuff and discussing the most mindfucking conspiracy theories like they would be the date nights of both ur dreams holy shit

He’s so attracted to your personality too, like mysterious and flirty at first glance?? How enticing for him,,, he thinks you’re something straight out of broadway. Tries his best to make you blush because he thinks it’s the most adorable thing in the entire world like good luck with this gentleman bro he’s gonna sweep you off your fEETS

Other Ships

𝓓𝓪𝓫𝓲

#mha #villains #matchups

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thepropertylovers · 5 years ago

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Feature Friday with Matthew Chaffee

Happy Friday, friends. Though the weeks are running together and what day it is means almost nothing anymore, we’re so happy it’s finally the weekend. The last few weeks have been some of the busiest for us (feeling grateful for that) and we’re looking forward to relaxing just a bit this weekend. Do you have any fun plans?

This week’s Feature Friday is Matthew, who shares what it was like growing up in a conservative environment, the response he got from his senior high school class when he came out in front of them by reading an essay (!), and his advice for those struggling to come out. We enjoyed getting to know Matthew and we think you will, too. See what we mean below…

What is your favorite place you’ve ever traveled to and why? Unfortunately, my answer to this question isn’t very exciting. Growing up, my family never had a lot of extra money to spend on traveling, so most of our vacations consisted of road trips around the Midwest. Don’t get me wrong, I got to see some fascinating places and make great memories with my family, but I haven’t been anywhere particularly exotic. I have been to New York City twice, both times for a music department tour in high school, and I’d have to say that it’s probably my favorite place I’ve traveled to. It was so much bigger and so much more cosmopolitan than anything I had ever seen or was used to, so it was quite overwhelming. The sheer vibrancy of it all – the lights, the smells, the languages – was intoxicating. Attending a performance of Phantom of the Opera on Broadway would probably have to go on my list of top ten life experiences thus far. It’s definitely not somewhere I could live for any length of time, but for somewhere to visit, it was phenomenal. 

Where did you grow up? What was your environment like? I’ve spent the entirety of my life living in West Michigan, which, as you may or may not know, is pretty traditional and conservative. More specifically, I’m from Grandville, which is a city of about 16,000 located in the Greater Grand Rapids area. Dutch heritage and Reformed (Protestant) Christian values play a big role in shaping the culture of the circles I grew up in. I attended a Christian Reformed Church, and I was educated in a private Christian school where my graduating class consisted of approximately seventy students. My family consists of myself, my mother, my father, and my brother, who is five years younger than me. I am very close with my parents, and I’d say my relationship with my brother is typical of siblings with our age gap. Family and faith have always been central parts of my life, and I don’t foresee that changing. 

How did your environment growing up shape who you are as a person? Growing up in a pretty conservative area definitely had an impact on my younger years. I remember in elementary school, like many children, I would parrot my parents’ political views when “discussing” politics with my peers. However, with the growing revelation about my sexuality that came with puberty, my views slowly began to change. Another catalyst for my shifting views occurred in middle school, when a good friend of mine was deported to Guatemala due to an error in her parents’ paperwork. The injustice of it all really impacted me and opened my eyes to a world that before had been largely hidden. High school gave me my first opportunity to connect with international students. As I have always been interested in learning about different cultures, I quickly befriended them and even helped start my high school’s International Club, which provided opportunities for American and international students to interact and attend various cultural events. Finally, my Aunt Dawn and Uncle Tim have played a major role in exposing me to issues concerning social justice. Although both of them grew up in West Michigan – just like my parents – their life circumstances have provided them with opportunities not experienced by most of my other family members. Because of this, they have always stood out to me as being somehow “different”, more engaged and more vibrant and passionate than most people I know. As I grew older and began paying more attention to the things my Aunt and Uncle would talk about, I began to realize the value behind the causes they were advocating. When taken together, my friends, my family, my sexuality, and my desire to continuously learn and expand my horizons have shaped me into who I am today. 

What’s one interesting fact about you? Besides English, I’m speak conversational Spanish and basic French and Korean. I also can play piano and trumpet, and I love to sing (though I don’t know if I’m any good or not, since I’m too shy to sing in front of anyone). 

What is one thing you love about yourself? Learning to love myself hasn’t been easy; it’s a process, and definitely something I’m still working on. But one thing I’ve always been proud of is my imagination. I’m a dreamer, and my mind is a wild place. I keep a running note on my phone of all the random, crazy things I think up so that maybe someday I can make them happen. 

What brings you the most joy in life? Oh boy. There are so many things I could talk about here. I love being outdoors. In particular, I love to bike. Bike trails are plentiful where I live, and Grand Rapids has begun to install bike lanes, so getting around and finding new places to ride is a cinch. My favorite ride is from Grand Rapids out to Lake Michigan, which I do a few times every summer with my best friend. Other outdoor activities I enjoy are hiking and hammocking. I firmly believe that everyone should own a good hammock. In addition to outdoor activities, I love to cook and bake. My specialties are ice cream and gourmet mac & cheese. Someday I hope to write a mac & cheese cookbook and title it “MAC: The Complete Guy to Everyone’s Childhood Favorite” (M-A-C are my initials). I also make a mean hummus. I love to learn. I’ve spent countless hours on Wikipedia reading about the most arbitrary topics. Whether it’s German political parties or the Japanese folklore, I’ve probably read about it. Nothing is off limits. As a result, my mind is a veritable treasure trove of random and mostly useless facts. Finally, I find joy in spending quality time with friends and family. Whether it’s playing ultimate frisbee, exploring a new city, dumpster diving at Krispy Kreme (a tradition at my college), or having late-night campfire talks, I’m down for just about anything as long as I’m with the right people. 

How old were you when you came out? What was your experience like? My coming out experience was a rather long process. Pretty much as soon as I began to have romantic feelings toward people, I realized that I had them for both guys and girls. This was around fourth or fifth grade, and I told myself that it was normal, that I wasn’t actually attracted to guys, but that I just knew that some guys were really good-looking. Once I reached middle school, I started to come to terms with the fact that maybe I was attracted to guys. But I continued to tell myself that I was more attracted to girls. I did the whole “percentage” thing, where I was like, “okay, I’m eighty percent straight, twenty percent gay.” I first came out as bisexual to my friend Carly. Freshman year of high school I told a few more friends that I was bi, and it went over pretty well. Sophomore year I briefly dated a girl, then junior year I began dating another girl. That lasted for about a year until we broke up early spring of my senior year. The breakup gave me a lot to think about, but even while dating her I realized that something never really felt right; I could never really imagine myself with her – or with any girl for that matter – for the long term. After much soul searching, I finally accepted that I was gay. One of the last big projects senior year was the “Where I Stand” paper. This was an essay written by every senior for English class, and it was basically an opportunity to say whatever you wanted and to be really open and vulnerable and reflect on your life leading up to that point. I decided to incorporate my coming out into my paper. It wasn’t the central focus, rather more of a side note. Thankfully, my English teacher, Mrs. Hoeve (now Dr. Hoeve) was extremely supportive throughout the process. On the day when everyone shared their papers, I concluded mine to thunderous applause, which was especially remarkable considering the fact that most of my classmates came from the same conservative, Reformed Christian background as I did. On the whole, I couldn’t have asked for a better coming-out experience at school. 

How did your friends and family take it? Did you face any backlash? How did/do you deal with that? I waited to come out to my parents until after my graduation and open house in order to not burden them with the news. Finally, after the celebrations had ended, I let them read my paper. The fifteen minutes or so that I waited in my room while they read it downstairs were the most agonizing of my life, because I knew how earth-shattering the revelation would be to them. When they finally came up to my room, their expressions were pretty much what I’d expected – reassuring, yet somehow disheartening at the same time. They assured me that they still loved me, that they were proud of me, and that they were glad I had told them. Since that time, we have only discussed my sexuality on a few occasions. When I first told them that I was dating a guy, it was almost like coming out all over again; I think that revelation finally made my sexuality real to them. In the intervening time, I have seen my mom making definite strides in becoming more open-minded not just toward me but in general, which is great. My dad, though he accepts and loves me, is very set in his ways – though, to be fair, I have had fewer conversations with him regarding my sexuality. My dad’s parents disowned me when I came out to them, though that hasn’t had much of an impact on me due to the fact that I was never very close to them. My mom’s parents, on the other hand, have always been incredible grandparents to me, so coming out to them, especially knowing their stance on other issues, was pretty nerve- wracking. Incredibly, the news didn’t seem to affect them at all, and their treatment of me since that time hasn’t differed in the least; they are still the loving, generous grandparents I’ve always known, and for that I’m extremely thankful. My friends have all been very accepting as well, though this was to be expected considering I have always associated with my more relaxed, open-minded peers. 

What did you learn about yourself in the coming out process? One of the most meaningful lessons I’ve learned about myself in the coming-out process is truly understanding what I value and stand for. I was raised as a Christian, and my faith is still very important to me. If anything, it’s actually become stronger as I’ve navigated the ups and downs of my journey with my sexuality. I’ve talked with numerous gay men who, at one point or another, renounced religion for various reasons, but often those reasons involved the church’s negative treatment or exclusion of LGBTQ+ individuals. To me, this is heartbreaking. As someone who identifies both as gay and as a Christian, seeing the false dichotomy that has been constructed around these two identities is challenging and frustrating, because I personally don’t believe that such exclusivity has any place in either institution. At its core, Christianity is about love. Sure, there are endless theological arguments to be made, but I don’t believe that these are necessary in order for a Christian to be accepting of another’s sexuality. Indeed, many of my friends are Christians; these are the same friends who accept my sexuality and wholeheartedly support me. Furthermore, the professors at the private Christian university I attend vehemently assert that Christianity and social justice go hand- in-hand, and that this includes advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights. Seeing this kind of support coming from within circles that are often viewed as hostile toward the LGBTQ+ community has been so incredibly encouraging. Not only has this served to reinforce my identity as both a gay man and a Christian, but it has also provided me with confidence when speaking about these issues. 

What would you tell today’s LGBTQ youth who are struggling to come out in fear they won’t be accepted by family, friends, society? You just might be surprised. People you’d never expect to support you will rally around you and love you. It’s also possible that people who truly care about you, but who may not be supportive right now, will have a change of heart when they find out. Sometimes it takes time. Case in point: my own parents, who are still processing and learning about what it means to have a gay son. Know, too, that family can mean more than one thing. Friends are the family you choose, so seek out and surround yourself with people who will love and accept you for who you are, especially if your actual family doesn’t. As cliché as it sounds, it does get better. Sometimes you just have to put in the effort to make it better for yourself and accept the challenges along the way. 

What is a difficult or challenging obstacle you have overcame in your life, or hope to overcome? By far the most difficult obstacle I’ve had to overcome in my life has been my struggle with mental illness, namely anxiety and depression. I was extremely anxious as a young child, to the point where I would induce vomiting before any sort of performance or sporting event so that it wouldn’t happen while on stage or on the field. Looking back, I think my anxiety was to blame for a lot of missed opportunities. For example, I don’t view myself as a particularly athletic person. But is this actually true? Or did I just never really try for fear of failure? Anxiety also manifests itself in my relationships. Elementary school friendships were rocky at best, and college presented its own challenges with meeting people and putting myself out there. More recently, depression has been a major struggle in my life. As I mentioned, I struggled initially to make friends at college (though this has since changed), and as I result, I became very depressed. I saw all the people around me getting settled into their friend groups while I felt alone. There was a point where my loneliness led me to seriously contemplate suicide, and I believe that perhaps the only thing that stopped me was when a friend checked in on me and gave me a hug. Since that time, I’ve been working on slowly but surely moving my center of identity to within myself, rather than placing it in other people and their judgements of me. I am focusing on pursuing my hobbies and interests, taking time to care for myself, and accepting my emotions as valid while simultaneously analyzing them through an objective lens. By doing this, I have become less worried about maintaining relationships and instead have been able to be present and actually enjoy them while also feeling more comfortable in the times when I’m alone. 

Who is your biggest inspiration and why? My biggest inspiration is my mom’s sister Dawn. She is one of the wisest, most thoughtful, and most gracious people I know. I actually came out to her before I told my parents; due to her close relationship with my mom, I knew she would have some good suggestions for how to break the news to them, and that she would be able to help my mom process the news after the fact. To give an idea of the type of person Dawn is, here’s a little anecdote: When I worked as a Resident Assistant in college, I had a resident come out to me. I was thrilled and honored to have him entrust me with such a significant part of his identity, and I really valued the opportunity to walk alongside him in his journey. I mentioned to him the role Dawn had played in my own coming-out process, and he asked if she might be willing to offer some advice to his mom. I reached out to Dawn, and she willingly agreed. I came to find out later from this resident that his mother and my aunt had talked for over an hour on the phone. I don’t know very many people who would go so far out of their way to help and support a complete stranger. 

Where do you see yourself in five years? Oh boy. Honestly, I try not to plan too far ahead, because that can be dangerous for an overthinking dreamer like me. But if I had to say, five years from now I actually hope to be doing exactly what you guys (PJ & Thomas) are doing. I joke that my dream is to have my own HGTV show, and while the odds of that happening are slim to none, I’d be happy to flip houses and develop property even without a TV show. I also hope to meet the man of my dreams, get married, and start a family, though this might take a little longer than five years down the road to happen. My greatest fear is actually never finding love. I know it seems a little ridiculous for a twenty-one-year-old to be worrying about that sort of thing, but it’s hard when you have friends who have been in serious relationships for years or who are getting engaged. I have to keep reminding myself that people find love at different times and in different places, and that I shouldn’t compare my own journey with others’.

Any last words you want to leave people with? Feel free to share! Feel free to message me! I always love getting to meet new people and hear their stories.

Thank you so much, Matthew! You can follow him on Instagram here. Hope you have a great weekend, friends!! xx

P&T

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