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maudus1 · 3 years ago

Note

Two things: 1. Can you share some of the wips and fic ideas you’ve got squirreled away on your laptop with us? 🥺 2. I wish you loved your writing as much as I love your writing and self doubt or overthinking stuff didn’t hold you back from posting. You are so talented!! Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise!!!

Thank you sm 😭🥺

Sure, I can share some stuff! I have a doc I fling ideas into whenever they hit me, no matter how detailed or small or stupid. PWPs, crack, AUs, slow burns, fix-its, etc. They're usually little more than stream of consciousness rambling, and sometimes just a link, or song lyrics, a reddit thread, meme, or fanart - whatever inspired me in the moment and made me think, "I should revisit this later."

To give you an idea what the former looks like (though I'll be honest, this is tidier than most lol):

Psychologist/Client Modern AU

Premise: Obi-Wan realizes he’s becoming attracted to his beautiful young client and tries to refer him to another doctor. Little does he know, Anakin has been harboring a crush for years.

Anakin comes in one day for a session and Obi-Wan seems off somehow, nervous almost. It's unlike him. Immediately, Anakin is wary. Before he has a chance to say anything, Obi-Wan gets right to the point and tells him he's referring him to another doctor. Anakin demands to know why and he won't give him a straight answer, or at least not one Anakin believes. He's heartbroken, but the more Obi-Wan dodges his questions, the more frustrated he becomes. Obi-Wan opens the door and tells him he should probably go.

As Anakin is passing by, he gets a little too close, and that's when he notices it. A hitch in Obi-Wan's breath, dilated pupils. And he knows. There's no way he's letting it go now. So he tests his theory. Boxes Obi-Wan in. Obi-Wan is becoming increasingly agitated, holy shit he's actually stammering - that never happens - not to him, the man who's always so smooth and professional and careful with his words.

“If you're referring me,” Anakin says, leaning closer, “I guess I'm not your patient anymore then, am I?"

Obi-Wan blinks, eyes falling briefly to Anakin’s lips. “No,” he breathes, “I suppose you aren't.”

Anakin grins. "Good.”

And then they kiss! Blah blah blah cue the hot desk sex.

Okay, the rest of this got pretty long so I'm dropping the WIPs under the cut.

First, there's Troubled Water. I have bits of multiple chapters written already but most of my focus is of course on chapter 4. Idk why but I've been struggling with it. 😅 It takes place on a different point in the timeline than originally intended (it was actually ch3 but what was supposed to be a flashback ended up turning into an entire scene of its own and thus the whole club disaster lol). It's, again, so long that it will probably end up split into two chapters but as of right now I'm kinda wingin' it.

And am I being entirely self-indulgent by using my own OCs (and some friends')? Yes.

I'm a writer, I can do anything.

Also I just thought it'd be cool to introduce a new species or two lol. The GFFA is vast okay, there's always room for more. Anyway, here's an excerpt:

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Da’riel of Clan Sarel. You have already met my Captain. The big guy behind you is my personal bodyguard. Don’t mind him, he only looks terrifying.” His grin takes on a mischievous edge as Bull huffs what might be a grunt or a laugh and he gestures toward the room he just emerged from. “And last but certainly not least—”

Another Dua’vian materializes in the doorway as though summoned, leaning her shoulder against the architrave. Her hair catches Anakin’s attention first; red as Queen’s Heart blossoms, it cascades in thick waves around shoulders draped in the black silk of a shirt several times too large to be hers, its hem halting mid-thigh. Her legs are bare beneath it.

Cheeks flaming, Anakin turns his gaze resolutely away.

“—this absolute vision is Liv Viventoly. If Preia is my right hand, Liv is my left.”

“What does that mean,” Anakin blurts, and everyone looks at him. Though Obi-Wan never rolls his eyes, the expression on his face is about as close as he gets to it. It’s a very particular brand of fatigue and mild annoyance entirely unique to his master, translated via a blank stare and slightly raised brows. He doesn’t even have to hear the “Honestly, Anakin,” aloud to know that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

“It means”—Liv straightens, smirking—“that I work in the shadows.” Anakin flinches back as she saunters past him and slides smoothly onto one of the tall stools at the well-stocked bar.

Like that answers anything. Why is everyone so cryptic all the time?

“What’s important is that while you’re here, know that you can trust them as I do,” Dua’primia Sarel says.

Obi-Wan nods, though Anakin senses apprehension through their bond. “We appreciate your hospitality, Dua’primia. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is—”

Anakin jolts forward. “Anakin Skywalker. We are at your service, my Lord.”

Sarel looks at his proffered hand with something like amusement and glides past Obi-Wan to clasp it with his. This close, he realizes the Dua’vian is an inch or two taller than himself—being somewhat tall for a human, it’s not an experience Anakin has often—and his eyes are a vibrant peridot green, accentuated by the black markings curving elegantly around the angles of his face that remind Anakin a bit of a Zabrak’s. A vicious scar bisects one eye from brow to cheek, long healed but still pink against his fair complexion, and Anakin spares a second to wonder if he got it during the war.

“Please,” he says, and is it just Anakin’s imagination, or did his voice lower in timbre? “Let us do away with such formalities. Call me Da’riel.”

Anakin swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Oh—okay. Da’riel,” he repeats stiffly, hoping he isn’t completely butchering the pronunciation. By the way the man beams, he thinks he did alright. Da’riel releases his hand slowly, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of his inner wrist before Anakin withdraws it behind his poncho. He glances sidelong at Obi-Wan, but his master’s expression is as inscrutable as ever.

“Well then,” Da’riel declares with a brisk clap, making his way to the bar, “drinks?”

“Can we get down to business, please?” Preia says, rolling her eyes.

“Such a spoilsport. Would it surprise you to know she isn’t always this uptight?” Chuckling, Da’riel uncaps a sapphire-blue crystal decanter and waves it beneath his nose. “Normally my dear Captain is the one pouring the liquor.”

“And I’ll drink you under the table like always once this threat is dealt with.”

“I shall hold you to that, my friend. And you, Jedi?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replies, a little too quick to be casual. “Thank you.” Anakin shoots him an inquisitive glance.

“Ah.” Da’riel nods sagely. “So the rumors are true.”

“Da’riel—” Preia hisses.

“What?” Da’riel looks around at everyone, not contrite in the least.

And his master was concerned that Anakin would be the one to say or do something culturally insensitive. He hides a quiet snicker behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose, and Obi-Wan gives him an unamused look before schooling his expression back to its artificial serenity.

“Please excuse him,” Preia says, hip cocked, a finger rubbing against her temple. “He’s very—”

Liv butts in, “Reckless, blunt, uncouth?”

Da’riel merely laughs, and Anakin can feel that it’s genuine. This is not at all the fearsome war General, leader of a revolution, and ruler of an entire planet that Anakin imagined. He seems close to these people, treats them more as equals and friends than subordinates or subjects, yet there’s still an aura about him that commands attention and respect as power or royalty would.

Preia smirks. “Too honest for his own good.”

Whatever it is, Anakin doesn’t sense cruel intent coming from the Dua’primia, just honest curiosity. Despite the glare his master is drilling into the side of his head like he knows what Anakin is going to do, he can’t help asking, “What rumors?”

“That you’re, er, monks,” Preia says, chuckling to mask embarrassment on behalf of her comrade and her own curiosity.

“You know.” Liv sips at the drink Da’riel just poured her, not looking at them as she speaks, and Anakin leaks a pulse of unease into the Force. There’s something about her he simply can’t put his finger on. “No drinking, no fu—”

“Fun!” Preia hastily interjects, staring daggers at the other redhead.

The corners of Anakin’s mouth twitch into a partial frown. They aren’t entirely wrong. He has his own… issues with the Order, with following rules that often either don’t make sense to him or directly conflict with his own ingrained beliefs. But it rankles for some reason, like he’s being judged, like they’re being judged. Mocked, even, though he doesn’t quite discern their meaning. Jedi are guardians of peace and justice within the galaxy. Maybe he doesn’t agree with the way the Order does things sometimes, but without them, without Anakin and Obi-Wan, the world would fall to disorder. To the dark side. People should be grateful—

“We are simply tired from our journey,” Obi-Wan interrupts his thoughts, sidling close enough that their shoulders graze, and Anakin exhales.

“My apologies, Jedi,” Da’riel says sincerely. “I am merely intrigued by your culture, as I’m sure you are of ours.” Obi-Wan bows his head in acceptance. “The hour is late. Preia?”

She hands Obi-Wan a datapad. “This contains an updated blueprint of the palace and map of the city, including the hidden exits and underground tunnels. I’ve marked the positions of my officers for each shift rotation as well as their schedules.”

Obi-Wan hums, stroking his beard as his eyes flit over the information on the screen. “And the evening of the festival?”

“We’re tripling security, pulling from both the palace guard and local law enforcement.”

“How many of them know we’re here?” Anakin says.

There’s a knock at the door before she can answer, and Bull moves to open it, standing back to allow someone entry. It's a man Anakin recognizes. Tall and broad, with neatly-combed dark hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a kind yet serious face. His attire perfectly matches the regal demeanor flowing off him in waves, fine tailored robes of pewter-blue that swish around matching trousers as he walks. When his eyes land on Obi-Wan, a fond grin meets Obi-Wan’s public, Jedi-persona equivalent; a small, polite smile, though his eyes twinkle with equally affectionate mirth as Senator Bail Organa bends to his height to trade light kisses upon each cheek.

Anakin knows from experience that it’s just a traditional Alderaanian greeting; it doesn’t mean anything. The Senator is a happily married man. And he’s pretty sure Obi-Wan hasn’t been involved with anyone in years, if ever. Whatever illicit affair he’d thought his master had with Vos was obviously just fueled by his own overactive imagination. He knows this because Obi-Wan never did meet the Kiffar before he shipped out for his next mission, and he hasn’t been alone with Vos since. Obi-Wan even stopped going to bars and clubs; stopped going out much at all, in fact, aside from diplomatic dinners and stuff they do on missions. Otherwise, he mostly stays with Anakin, and that’s exactly how Anakin likes it.

None of that prevents the irritation boiling within his veins or the tormenting memory of a kiss that’s burrowed its way into his very soul, a kiss that should have never been, and the hollow, bitter pang that always follows in its wake.

Goosebumps prickling the flesh at his nape, he glances around and finds Da’riel leaning back lazily against the front of the bar on one elbow, sipping his drink and watching Anakin intently. Face flushing with heat, he plops into one of the plush chairs and out of the Dua’primia's view.

“Obi-Wan. As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“And you as well, Bail.”

“Now that everyone is here,” Preia says, “shall we get started?”

This is Da'riel btw:

"But there are no elves in Star Wars," one might say. Well guess what: there are now. 😌

Preia and Liv belong to @jacklyn-flynn & @charlatron respectively.

As for other WIPs; there's one I started before Troubled Water, though my focus was drawn to TW instead so it's been put on the backburner for now. The original idea was some kind of canon-divergent time-travel fix-it, but in the sense that Vaderkin's consciousness from the end of RoTJ returns to his body around the end of the Mortis arc in The Clone Wars. Can't say why that inspired me but it did lol, it felt like a pivotal moment (one of the shatterpoints I like to theorize about, change one thing and they're all altered via butterfly effect etc).

Like, what if he lived the future shown to him in that vision that the Father erased, and how would he react differently afterward, how would he talk to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka about what they went through on Mortis and the implications if he actually, finally understood and believed that he was indeed the Chosen One, how would they approach the Sith situation and the war from that point on... yeah I just have a lot of thoughts idk. I know that arc isn't a fan favorite but I personally loved the metaphor and the entire Prophetic Greek Tragedy vibe.

Excerpt:

“General Skywalker, come in.”

He feels… strange. Heavy yet impossibly lighter. Awareness presses down around him, suffocating, and a sharp pain lances through his skull as he draws the first shuddering breath in what feels simultaneously like mere minutes and several millennia. His mouth is dry, his throat sore, and his eyes burn as he slowly blinks into wakefulness. The crust of sleep clings to his long lashes, the salt-stained skin upon his cheeks pulling uncomfortably as he moves. He rubs them with a gloved hand and groans at the bright flashing lights of a console as they sharpen into focus.

Wait—

He has a body.

Moments ago he was formless and adrift, yet he is once again whole. And before that, he was… he was…

Kriff, he has hands. Hands he sees unfiltered, rather than through a tinted transparisteel visor protecting damaged retinas. And he’s breathing. Unassisted by a mechanical apparatus, by endless tubes and wires, no longer submerged under the ceaselessly distracting harsh rasp of a ventilator. Fingers flexing inches before his face, he blinks again, stunned. Not only does he have a body, but it’s his body. His limbs—well, with the exception of one. His gaze drifts slowly down to his long legs, toes curling experimentally in his boots. The sheer relief of it sends him reeling.

Red light glints off his leather tabards and he looks up, expecting that any moment now, this will all prove another dream, a nightmare; a life free of that shell dangled temptingly before him only to be snatched away again. But the scene does not change. Dazed, he assesses his surroundings. A ship. He's on a ship? Familiar, Republic make. And there is a presence in the Force, a presence he has not felt in—

Hours. Years. An eternity.

Breath held, he turns. Only his head; as though any attempt to move this foreign yet thrillingly familiar youthful body will snap him out of this vision, send him back to that… that hell. And as he does, he sees him, a shining beacon of pure light, warm and bright and soothing. A man in beige robes, slumped in the co-pilot’s chair beside him, just beyond arm’s reach. Legs akimbo, elbows perched upon the armrests, hands dangling limply over his lap. His bearded chin is tucked to his chest which rises and falls in the slow, steady rhythm of unconsciousness. Auburn hair spills across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. But he would know this man anywhere.

Obi-Wan.

The desperate beat of his heart and rough, relieved exhale that escapes his lips seems thunderously loud in the otherwise silent cockpit. Fresh tears springing to his eyes, he attempts to stand—to go to him, to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms and feel his warmth, to surround himself with his scent and know for certain that he’s here, he's real, he’s alive—only to wobble and collapse back into the seat like a fawn testing new legs for the first time.

How is this happening?

He feels himself, and not himself. As though he took a nap and awoke with another lifetime sliced into his brain, a vision he can't shake, an overwrite of his programming, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between it and the reality he's presented with the more he struggles to process it—

A flicker of blue dances in his periphery, repeating a question, and it is only with great reluctance that he tears his eyes away from his former Master. The holo-projection of another man stands at attention in the center console, brow furrowed with worry. Fondness and guilt and confusion flood him with equal measure as he takes in his Captain’s, his friend’s, appearance.

“General Skywalker, do you read me?”

Skywalker.

The voice of the last person to call him by that name, in that other life, echoes in his mind. It is the name of your true self, you have only forgotten. The son he tried to kill, to corrupt, to save. The son who saved him, and in the end, returned him to the light. Luke.

Clearing his parched throat, he responds, “I—we read you, Rex,” and marvels at the sound of his own voice, so crisp and clear and young, without the distortion of that burdensome helmet. “You—you’re a sight for sore eyes. Can you hear me?”

Fabric rustles behind him and he instinctively reaches for the lightsaber at his hip before the sleepy, curious brush of another Force signature meets his own. Gasping, he whips around in the flight chair.

“Ahsoka!”

She winces, rubbing her tired eyes. “Not so loud, Skyguy,” she says on the back end of a yawn, glancing around the cockpit. “What happened? We were—-mmphh!” Her surprised grunt is muffled against his shoulder as he all but falls out of his seat to the floor at her feet and drags her into his arms, then his lap, cradling her like a child.

Face buried in her soft lekku, he squeezes her close to his chest, body wracked with silent sobs. All he’d wanted was to protect Ahsoka. To mentor her, as his master before him, and give her the tools she needed to protect herself and innocents across the galaxy. Brilliant, kind, stubborn and strong, and so, so wise beyond her time, she became one of the most talented Jedi he had ever met. Though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, she made him proud, made him feel honored to be her master. Watching her leave the Order tore his heart in two. Watching her leave him destroyed him. Already he’d been questioning the Council, questioning the Order as a whole and their damn inflexible code. But more than that, he questioned himself. He’d failed as her master, failed as a Jedi.

The memories haunt him. For months he examined the shatterpoints of their lives together, in hindsight—every lesson taught, every battle fought, wondering where he went wrong, what he could have done differently, how he could have fixed things, helped her, kept her close—spiraling down, down into the depths of his own torment and self-loathing. Without Ahsoka, Obi-Wan had been his only remaining tether to the Jedi. To the light. A tether broken, in the end, by his selfishness. By jealousy and hatred and greed, by the fear of abandonment, loss, and… deep, shameful, unrequited feelings.

But here she is, right here in the secure circle of his arms. His beloved young padawan, the girl he’s come to cherish like a friend, a sister, who he’d met lightsaber for lightsaber in that dark future but even then, corrupted as he was, could not bring himself to kill because he loved her so. Loves her still.

“Master?” Ahsoka murmurs, hands hanging limp at her sides for several seconds before hesitantly returning his embrace with equal strength. Too often preoccupied with and separated by the war, the opportunities to shown her such open affection were far and few between, usually coming after particularly difficult missions, brief brushes with death, and how kriffed up is that? Filled with regret, he promises himself here and now that will change.

“Are you…” Trailing off, she reaches up to slowly pet his hair and he releases a quiet sigh, finally pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are wide and worried and so very, terrifically, blue. “Master, what’s wrong?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, he shakes his head. “Nothing, Snips.” The old nickname rolls off his tongue without even thinking and his heart clenches, this time with both pain and joy. “Nothing at all. Everything is perfect.”

There’s a crackle of static behind them, then, “Ah, General Kenobi. It’s good to see you, sir. Are you three alright? General Skywalker seems—”

He lifts his gaze to the co-pilot’s chair. Obi-Wan is awake and perched upright in front of the holo, staring silently at them with a frown so achingly familiar a tangled web of affection, longing, pain, betrayal swells within his chest. It hurts, it hurts so much to look at Obi-Wan like this, yet now that those eyes are open and trained so intently on him, he can’t tear his own away. And Obi-Wan’s just as beautiful as ever, just as heart-wrenchingly perfect and good.

Too late, he remembers that their bond, while not as strong as it had once been, remains. Unlike most master and padawan pairs after the apprentice reaches knighthood, neither he nor Obi-Wan could bring themselves to sever it. They were at war, their connection was vital. It made them a better team. Until—

His mental shields slam into place but not before Obi-Wan arches a single brow, lips parting as if to repeat Rex’s inquiry.

“I’m fine,” he rushes to cut Obi-Wan off, “we’re all fine. Just, uh—where are you?”

He can only beg the Force that his former master and current padawan did not feel too much, did not see the torment buried within him. By the way they appear to be communicating with one another like whispers behind closed doors, however, he’s sure they will have questions. Questions he doesn’t know how to answer. Letting go of Ahsoka, he clambers to his feet, limbs still trembling, and drops heavily back into the pilot’s chair.

“Standing by, sir. We were worried. You were,” Rex hesitates, “off the scopes there for a moment.”

Memories hit him in a rush. Chaotic, lacking order. He's in a dark room with his dead mother whispering poison in his ear. On a balcony overlooking a pristine lake, flowers scenting the air, one hand rising to touch soft skin. In a junkyard, fingers covered in mech oil, the ever-present grit of sand between his molars. At an opera listening to the viper beside him spit lies, lies, lies. The sky above shifts rapidly from day to night, and he's lost in a spinning whirlpool of stars and the obscene rush of power he feels as he brings gods to their knees. Then he's watching the silhouette of a robed man against the backdrop of sunset thinking look at me, look at me, please look at me, I need you—

Sifting through them is a struggle. Everything blurs together, and he can't control what comes or when, skull throbbing from the effort. His thoughts, his feelings, are an amalgamation of eras he can't quite reconcile; the slave boy, the padawan learner, the Jedi Knight, the General, the Sith Lord. It's too much, it's too much and he doesn't know who or what he is anymore and the panic is rising—

A comforting hand settles upon his shoulder and he opens his eyes. Ahsoka.

“A moment?” Obi-Wan says, still staring at him. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable under that all-too perceptive gaze. At length, his master turns to the holo. “We’ve been gone far longer than a moment.”

Rex’s eyes flit between them. “Sir, I don’t understand. You’ll need to explain.”

Ahsoka snorts. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

Still have a lot of mental fleshing out to do before it goes anywhere but there ya have it.

May the Force be with you, always!

As for the first part of your comment, really, thank you. It's not that I don't love my writing so much as the process can be difficult at times. 😅 I'm a perfectionist, and not by choice so much as my brain simply won't let things go until they feel right. Even after publishing something I have a very bad habit of going back in and editing it a dozen more times. It's very annoying! 😂

Sometimes that single-minded focus gets me stuck in a huge rut because I'm too zoned in on trivialities to navigate back to the big picture. Basically writer's block is the worst feeling ever and sometimes I get down about not being as productive as I should be. But I do love writing, and making people happy with my work gives me a lot of joy and motivation to keep at it. Well, I should probably get back to work on TW but I hope you enjoyed the excerpts! All your kind words made me smile and I'm gonna try to carry that positivity with me. 🥰

#anon asks #mau answers #Troubled Water #and other random stuff #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #bail organa #obikin #vaderwan #star wars #my wips #my ocs #obikin fanfic

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aggresivelyfriendly · 3 years ago

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Concert review DALLAS-LOVE ON TOUR! 9/11/2021

At the ending of her set, Jenny Lewis, she of the sparkle tights and witchy ways, said “this really is love on tour!”

Couldn’t agree with this statement more.

Yesterday was a day of love, light, and spontaneity after a long year and a half of few opportunities for impulsive fun. My journey to Dallas starts before the road trip begins with a little by play in a group chat- “I have been kinda thinking about the Dallas show…” I jot off.

“I have a hotel room and am driving anyways.” Is the reply.

It might as well be a flapping red cape to a bull.

I casually mention the idea to my husband, raitionalizing it’s on the weekend and makes more sense than the San Antonio ticket I was still mourning selling. He’s neutral.

I’m preoccupied, planning, and prepping.

The next morning, I’m in the group chat. I’m coming. Plans are made, husband on board and thanked profusely. I’m loved and going to the joy place, Harry’s room.

My love tour begins in Dallas!

One problem, I don’t have a ticket. Skye is sending me options, they’re more than I want to pay, and I’m watching stub hub like a hawk until I’m driving to the rendezvous point and can’t check for an hour.

Skye is road trip ready and we are in the car, but still no ticket. She’s nervous. But, it’s all gonna work out, I feel it, the love.

My first feeler comes in, a ticket, face value, 300 level. It’s mine, but it won’t download. As a distraction, I hop over to tumblr, another line. Lower bowl!

“Where’s it at?” Skye asks.

“103”. I say and fill in the details.

“That’s right next to me!” It’s as close to a squeal as Skye gets. I do squeal.

The rest of the drive, getting ready, dinner, and the walk to the event go as smoothly as 1D Harry’s face.

The line not so much! So long, but moved in chunks. We amused ourselves looking at the outfits!

Harries! You are a beautiful, creative bunch.

We were in our seats by Jenny’s second song. Love her voice, dig the vibe, like her music.

But her statement, about it really being love on tour, that’s what I’ll remember.

And will I ever get over Harry’s pre show playlist. Shout out to Let’s get it on before Sweet Thang! I see you, villain!

Harry’s box goes under the stage, the band comes in brimming with energy and he rises, right in the center of the diamond. What a metaphor that is-Harry our diamond in the rough, front and center.

Golden! I’ll never be over you. I feel this song like sun on my skin and wind whipping over my knuckles stuck out the windows on PCH.

Carolina, you’re not my fave, but I dig you at a show girl. Do your thing!

Adore you is perfect, and note changes baby! Note changes!

Only angel- so glad you are still with us!!

She! Mitch! I love the way Harry highlights Mr. Rowland. He moves into the shadows and let’s Mitch strut.

Falling, I love the little taste of two ghosts, and though you aren’t my jam, I still teared up. This man gets better and better!

Sunflower, joy in a bop! The band is so fun and long live Harry making the silly sounds and playing with the audience.it’s show 4 and he’s ramping up. More interactions every show. These are my shit!

This might have been when Harry spotted a man! “Jeff, Jeff, Jeff!” Harry wanted him to have a good time, and he was the belle of the ball for a minute!

He also sang Happy Birthday, but threatened to only do it to the first sign holder he saw! But he was a benevolent deity as always.

I’m taking a break- cuz WOMAN, always forever, under my skin and on it. Also, so many sexy shapes and lots of beautiful ass shots.

He gave us a choice, ass or face! I really am at a loss for a preference in these satin pants with his tighty whiteys! You flower, you feast for my eyes sir!

I spent all of cherry filming for @dirtystyles. The harmonies here are so pretty, and I love ny’s voice with Harry. Elin was hard to see most of the show for me, but she was so darling here.

Lights Up, my baby, I do know who I am when I am in this room too! That bass drop still owns me.

Canyon moon- the arrangement is beyond amazing. This was probably my least favorite song on Fine Line, but I freaking love it live!

TPWK followed by WMYB is like a joy machine- love love!

Fine line may be my favorite song, it basically got me through the pandemic. My one complaint is that he didn’t do the last we’ll be alright. If he hadn’t have been so much chattier and just a smiley amazing example of love on legs I might not forgive him.

Will SOTT ever not choke me up?

Watermelon Sugar is fucking a bop/ end of! It’s sexy and I’ll show you exactly what it tastes like.

Kiwi- you beautiful bitch, I will dance myself into a sweaty mess and feel enlivened anytime, every time. Like WMYB- if Harry always shows this much joy doing a song he’s done so many times before, I’ll show up to watch. He shows, we show. I’m still fucking into it!! Forever into it! I’ll never be over Kiwi or Harry Styles.

I can’t tell you all how much this fandom, the community and all of it means to me. Harry’s room might be my favorite place and you my favorite collection of people! Thank you @styloff for helping me find a home for my extra ticket, @chasm2018 and @greeneyesharry for finding me the seat right next to @yessoupy!

And @yessoupy! Thank you for the encouragement to find the spontaneous woman I loved in me and thought I lost and for great conversation, sing alongs, and adventure! I love you! Let’s keep the tour going tomorrow!

#Harry styles #hslot #Harry styles love on tour #Dallas #my show #9/11/2021 #meant to be

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years ago

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Good Old Drama and Gossip

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Morizono Aguni (Mentioned), Chishiya Shuntaro (mentioned), Last Boss (Briefly Mentioned), and me

Genre: Crack. This time it's just blind!Niragi being fussy and me stealing Aguni in the background

1.5k words

Part 3 of being a little shit to Hatter and getting away with it. But hey, at least there's the added bonus of Niragi being dramatic while being able to see nothing. A shame I didn't arm him with a cane and let him smack people.

Hatter was going to get them this time, he swears on it. It’s been more than a week since they last struck, and as far as he knew, there was not a single invasion into his Beach. He was always on alert, just in case something happened. It didn’t get in the way of his primary duty to his people, but the thought never left him to make sure everything he owned was in place.

Checking for any of the other’s stuff wasn’t anything Hatter worried about, thankfully. For some odd reason he could only interpret as ‘being too handsome and irresistible for his own good’ only his stuff was ever snatched like a cookie in the elusive cookie jar. He didn’t want to develop more stress lines making sure his men were okay in their personal possessions. Wrinkles shall only come to accentuate him, make him look good, not just tired and old.

That privilege can go to Aguni.

The man in question was at the very least rocking it, made him look fierce. Hatter could appreciate that in him, and it makes his job easier in subduing the more…. rambunctious of their group.

In fact, one of Aguni’s more problematic men, Niragi, had come back to a game with bad eye issues, even more worse than the appointed med staff could figure out. Apparently the game the oversaturated oil stain was in broke his eyes to the point where he couldn’t use them for a good while. In short, Niragi was left completely blind, and Aguni now had to deal with an increasingly whiny and temper hearty baked bean burrito. Hatter found it funny, but oh boy was it wearing out his poor fried dumpling.

It also left quite a hole in the defense for the intruders, so the issue of Aguni and Niragi was also an issue for the safety of the Beach (and Hatter’s stuff) as a whole.

No point thinking about this now. Hatter leans back on the sofa, sipping at a cold blend of juices and relaxing. His feet were killing him right about now, Hatter flexing his stiff toes and internally begging for a good pedicure to fly in through the doors and give his feet a touch of heaven and bliss.

The door in fact does fly open as the thought passes his head, Hatter sitting up and raising an eyebrow as Niragi stands there, breathing heavily. The sunglasses Hatter has so graciously offered to him in order to make him both sexier and protect his eyes from the sunlight so he didn’t permanently damage them further was slipping slightly off his face, Niragi fixing them after a few more pants.

“ You…..! You fucking coconut slut!” Niragi rasps out, and Hatter quirks his eyebrow in mild amusement, leaning forward and sipping his juice quietly as one arm rested on his knee. Niragi points a finger in Hatter’s direction, if Hatter was 45 degrees to the left and standing. “ You fucking left me tied on that bed for an hour! What fucking gives!”

Hatter says nothing, as Niragi storms in….. and immediately slams into the back of the other couch, Hatter bursting into laughter. Niragi on the other hand starts spouting obscenities and kicks the couch, and the red cocktail man notices the lack of real gun in Niragi’s possession, other than the super soaker that was substituted. Aguni probably replaced it, knowing that a blind trigger happy man was a danger to society and himself.

“ What the fuck is this bull?! What- Oh for fucks sakes this isn’t Chishiya’s room is it.” Niragi finally sputters out, grabbing the top edge of the couch and massaging the soft cushions underneath his long fingers.

“ Oh, I wish I was. Now what was this about being tied to a bed, hm?” Hatter croons, which earns him a hearty middle finger.

“ Like heck am I about to tell you. Okay, let’s try this again-“ Niragi turns around, but Hatter whistles at him, Niragi slowly spinning back around to face Hatter’s general position. “ What is it, I don’t have all day lobster man.”

“ Aww, not even a minute? Well, it’s just a question. Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied until you regain your senses? After all, you have nothing to guide your way.”

“ Fuck that, I don’t know where Last Boss went and he won’t fucking speak up if he’s just been following me like a sneaky little bitch this entire time, and Aguni was called away for something!”

“ Oh?” Hatter leans back again, Niragi throwing his arms up in the air as he starts pacing and nearly running into stuff again.

“ Yeah! So then that tiny mozzarella cheese ball came and said he’d help because I just look sad and stupid wandering around by myself, which I don’t believe because I know he’d push me into the pool the first chance he got, and then suddenly I’m tied to a bed as he puts on a podcast of nothing but some random guy talking about wool! It was hell!”

“ Oooh, I see. How bad was it?”

“ Fucking terrible! I did not need a wool lecture, thank you very little! Who the fuck wants to know the fastest record to shear a sheep was 39 seconds!? Not me, that’s for fucking sure!” Niragi rants, Hatter nodding and grinning as he switches his juice out for the good wine he kept by his foot the entire time, pouring himself a decent amount and taking a slow sip as Niragi continued to rant onwards. At some point Niragi managed to find the couch again (because he stubbed his toe into it, leading to an extra twenty seconds of Niragi cursing out Hatter’s poor couch) and sat down, Hatter pushing a wine glass into Niragi’s hand and filling it. Niragi downed it like he was a war orphan waiting for his arm to be donated to the war effort, Hatter lightly tsking him for not savouring it properly.

It wasn’t Aguni or any of the girls, but Hatter could appreciate the gossip as Niragi continued without a filter in his mouth, the rant going from Chishiya’s wool podcast to anything else Niragi had heard in his blind boredom. He was impressed how much information Niragi was willing to dole out just to get his anger settled for the rest of the day, and Hatter was happily sipping away as he absorbed it all.

Finally Niragi had calmed down, just nursing the wine glass that Hatter just filled with chocolate cereal instead, as Niragi refused to drink his wine like it was good wine. It was a shame really, Hatter liked hearing about Niragi’s auditory bubble day.

“ Well wasn’t that cathartic!” Hatter chirped as Niragi mumbled around his glass of chocolate cereal, draped over the entire couch as if he wanted to become the couch lord. Or wanting to be painted like the best model in the world, whatever he wanted.

“ Yeah yeah, whatever.” Niragi tips cereal into his mouth just as the crackle of his walkie-talkie alerts him and Hatter. Niragi doesn’t bother to remove the device from his side, too busy eating his cereal as a voice comes through.

And oh boy, what a voice it was, Hatter tuning into it immediately.

“ ….. Testing, testing! Are you hearing me? Hi hi, it’s me, your local menace~ The one with the robe, remember me? Yeah! Hi, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just gonna….. borrow Mr. Beef Stew with extra beef for a few hours! For personal, very important reasons and definitely not because I got a replica statue of a cute dog stuck in a window and now I can’t get it out. Anyways, bye!” The rest becomes static as it disconnects, Niragi snorting a little as Hatter takes one deep breath.

“ Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Niragi, hand it over to me.”

“ You’re not my boss.” “ Yes, but I’m Aguni’s, so hand it over.”

Niragi grumbles, unclipping the walkie-talkie and tossing it in Hatter’s general direction, Hatter humming and pressing the button on the side.

“ Hello? Are you still there, you rascal?” Hatter leans in, pouring as much honey into his voice to lure them out.

“… Yep, still here! Hi, didn’t think you’d be there too Hatter.” “ Oh, I’m here, and I would like to kindly know where you and your little friends are. As a little house visit~” There was a chuckle on the other end. “ Oh, sorry sorry, but I can’t. We can always come over and visit though, even if it’s for a brief moment!” “ Is that so…. Well, you wound me so, you know!” Hatter puts a hand on his chest. “ For you to not even offer me the same respect, ah it hits me right here that you can’t even trust me~”

“ Sorry! Anyways, gotta go, got things to do, got stuff to move with Aguni, who was nice enough to help us.”

“ At your base? Well, what’s stopping me from asking him for directions later for a surprise visit one of these days, maybe have a meet and greet with my beloved stolen items?”

“ Not anywhere near our base, we’re not that dumb my dear red bean paste~ Don’t worry, we’ll return your man in….. 3-5 business days maybe okay byeeeeeeeee-“ The line goes completely dead, and Hatter stares at the black box.

Those cursed beings, they’ve gone too far. Too far.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #hatter #takeru danma #aguni morizono #niragi suguru #last boss #takatora samura #chishiya shuntaro #hatter rues the day he met us conniving thieves #at the very least he got entertainment before being bamboozled from right under his nose #blind niragi is funny because I can make him smack into things without a chaperone #niragi slow down you're slurping too fast-#you can't go anywhere anyways without potentially running into issues #now how did chishiya manage to distract niragi long enough to tie him down? who knows

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hazard-and-friends · 4 years ago

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i watched the first episode of canine intervention tonight, here’s some uncensored liveblogging featuring my spicey dog training takes:

“my dog training system is known all over the world" mhmm. lemme google this guy.

by clicking through his in person training site to his online remote training course, i found a whole lot of big red flags: "Establish pack leadership" dogs don't have pack leaders. anyone who wants to make you a leader is not using a good understanding of dog behavior "Time your praise and corrections" the times when i use corrections are when i'm the least on my game. my goal is NEVER to use corrections/positive punishment. why should i? it's concerning that he uses it as a core part of his method. "Exercise and reinforce your leadership as a way of life" more leadership bullshit.

fancy letters are not the end-all-be-all, and there are trainers i seriously respect who have none of them. but they don't talk about leadership and corrections. it's concerning that he talks about his sports team as a kid, where he went to high school, and his celebrity clients, but not his mentors and education in training.

back to the show

why does his facility have enough dogs to keep them in kennels? how does that teach aggressive dogs how to be safe in a home environment?

not all of the dogs in the first shot of a class (~1:38) have two collars on but a lot do. that's not a red flag (i worked sydney in two collars [her flat collar and a martingale, because syd was very gear smart and it was nice to tell her that we were doing heeling now]) but with what i saw on his website? it's quite likely that one of those is the dog's normal flat collar with tags, and the other is a prong, choke chain, or electric collar

also: "I help the dogs that no one else will" is a flat out lie

if you're willing to take on any human aggression cases, generally you’re willing to take on all of them. now, some of these cases may generally lead to a recommendation of euthanasia. but that's in the best interests of the dog and owner

oop class shot where it's clear that they're wearing prongs

here's two points not about this guy specifically: 1) it is hard (impossible?) to do humane, ethical dog training in a 45 minute episode slot. it's not good tv. it's slow as hell. there's no drama. the aggression trainers i know? have never been bitten. many have never been CLOSE to being bitten. no tv value. 2) the positive dog training community is OVERWHELMINGLY white and middle class.

it's also full of racists.

"Nearly a million dogs are euthanized yearly and over 40% of them are pit bulls" i've calculated that first statistic myself, but it's important to put it in context: this is USA specific, and that's down from 3-4 million 20 years ago. the second one, i would love to see his source.

he's right that it's important to understand where aggression comes from

anyway back to those two points, at the same time that it's really, really hard to do compelling TV with ethical dog trainers, it's also really REALLY important that the positive dog training community be working on being anti-racist. and it's really, really important that low income dog owners and people of color are getting good dog training.

alright first case! he's had her 3 months, 3 bites in that time. 10 attempted attacks. she's a young adult bully breed mix who had one front leg amputated after being shot. owner walks her in a muzzle which is a) too small and b) not bite proof.

"I see what we're working with" he says, after approaching a dog in her crate. hazard responds similarly to someone coming in, but he's not a bite risk. that's not a good evaluation.

he is correct about lady macbeth's motivations: this is a dog who's scared as hell and making herself really big and scary so that everyone leaves her alone.

okay he's also right that playing with her around strangers is really, really good for fear aggression

"frenzied just chaotic state" yeah no

reality check for y'all: i am not an aggression specialist and i have seen more freaked out dogs

she was on edge! she was unhappy! but holy shit was she not even remotely close to what dogs are capable of

"she just bit me!" she nipped your cheek, not breaking skin. that's a level 1 or 2 (of 6). that's not NOTHING but it's well within normal for a dog who's being restrained when she wants to be somewhere else.

[note that at no point in the episode was the owner ever given any sort of indication that lady macbeth is not this horribly aggressive Pit Bull TM. nor was there any discussion of a bite scale.]

"The only option we're gonna have is to [board and train] for 3 weeks" "I have no choice but to take her back to my facility back in San Jose and work daily with her" no!!!!!

[15 minute break]

lmao sorry i had to go yell at gf about how much this board and train is not necessary and in the process penny decided to cause Drama again

ANYWAY, the b&t is not necessary because all of those aggressive incidents bar the first could have been avoided if the owner was on the ball. this is not JUST a lady macbeth issue, this is ALSO an owner issue. both of them need to relearn how to handle new people.

as a bonus, lady macbeth needs to learn to trust her owner, which she categorically cannot do in a b&t

"The box is an important training tool to teaching new behaviors. It's also a first step in establishing pack leadership" ok this is new to me

and new is not a good thing here

text: Obedience depends on a dog's trust and respect for their pack leader calculus depends on your trust and respect for your math teacher! if you respect them a lot you will magically be able to do calc!

I WAS HOPING. I WAS TRYING.

i was HOPING that his training for her fear aggression would be based in toy play.

instead he's got a fake arm and he keeps reaching out to poke her, and the owner says "no!" and does a leash pop (leash wrapped around her neck) every time she tries to bite.

"She doesn't know it's not his hand" it smells like plastic what would she THINK it is

also funky that we're 19 minutes into the episode about an aggressive bully breed mix and the trainer's childhood bully breed mix who killed a dog, and like. not a single mention of what these dogs were bred for.

let's go back to "how are you teaching aggressive dogs to live nicely in a home, if they are spending most of the day in a wire kennel"

for shits take, high school doesn't teach you how to handle your emotions! why should obedience class teach your dog the same?

and then like, every time she breaks the down he yells NOPE and leans over her??????

dude you're scaring her into being obedient. while you're talking about how it's important to treat her fear.

text: Fear based aggression can be reduced by desensitizing the dog to strangers you're right! it sure can! THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE

you've got a dog on her side with one hand over her, the other on a skinny check chain on her neck. every time she does anything but lay flat, the leash is popped and you say no. you are flooding this dog and creating learned helplessness.

jo summed it up well with this: he's good at seeing the behavior, he knows what he's looking at, he just can't change it. he only knows one method.

jo and i are now trying to figure out if "dog training but marie kondo not cesar milan" is a viable tv show

jas correctly stops the friend and changes how he approaches the dog, that's a good response

i'm laughing bc after a 3 week board and train which is not going to be less than $4k, he's giving the exact same "how to meet new people" directions that i would give to a similar client--at the start of our time! not at the end!

"I can't imagine imagine a dog having it too much worse than she did, the fact that she took a gunshot, the fact that she had no security for years of her life" alright dude a) think worse, this PALES to abuse cases b) let's not? shittalk? the care that people without reliable housing give to their dogs (and occasional cat!)?? because what they do for their pets is incredible, and it isn't necessarily connected to her opinions on strangers

so yeah still laughing bc like. that "happy ending" would be my first session with a client. that's how you START handling stranger danger. and for this the owner paid thousands.

#ethics in dog ownership #dog training #ask to tag

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Cause Though the Truth May Vary, This Ship Will Carry (Gigi/Nicky) - Campvanjie

AN: Based on the prompt: “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.” A slight AU Gigi/Nicky, little bit of unrequited crushing and a lot of fate, originally posted to my old AO3 account on May 24th, 2020. Edited as well to add non-binary pronouns for Gigi out of drag, as the original used male pronouns. Don’t worry, I’m the original author and only want all of my stories collected under one pen name.

Summary: Nicky and Gigi strike up a friendship online, but just can’t meet until the time’s exactly right.

CW: slight mentions of homophobia.

The sun’s almost setting on an August day when Gigi flicks through the games in their library, bored of sniping enemies from rooftops, set on finding something else that has a competitive mode, kicking underneath the bed to find their headset. It would probably be best to at least try to talk to other people, and maybe even count up all the times people call each other gay without even realizing they’re talking to someone, who’s made sixteen dollars an hour dressing up as a girl and working at the rock climbing wall for all of high school.

There’s gay, and then there’s Gigi Goode; with a closet hanging full of custom couture, not that they’d ever admit to their mom that her work isn’t the worst.

There’s only one player in the team’s group chat, as Gigi adjusts their headset so they can talk into the mic.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hi!”, laughs the voice in his headphones; crackling as Gigi shoots and blows apart a box in the game’s lobby. There’s an accent there he can’t quite place, not that it matters so much, since the guy on the other end easily guides him through the map and even cracks a couple of jokes as one of the other team’s players is booted off a cliff. Maybe he’s Spanish, or Russian, since there are lot of Russian people on the server at this time of almost- night.

They queue for another round, his player’s character stopping next to a poster of one of the girls in the game.

“I like her, do you?”, he asks, and Gigi cringes a little. Straight guys were fucking exhausting, but this was just embarrassing-

“Like, this coat, with the belt like this, makes her waist look like she is a wasp. The insect, not the white people.”, he keeps talking, and Gigi’s eyes widen a little.

“Yeah, I’d buy those boots.”, they joke, hoping that whoever it is, will take it in stride, and he won’t have to listen to someone who’d been cool for the past half an hour, suddenly start losing their mind over how gay that was to say out loud.

“The boots? I want this hair- I want just Mortal Kombat hair but like this color, and maybe instead of a gun I want the scepter, like Sailor Jupiter. You’ve seen that, yes?”

Gigi blinks a couple of times. He’s serious?

“Like, of course. Yeah.”

“She’s a Mugler bitch. Hm, aren’t you?”, the voice teases on the other end; kicking at one of the boxes in the game.

Gigi is silent, as their queue timer runs out, and their team join another game which is already active when they’re dropped in.

“It’s the Hermes winter collection.”

“What?”

“That jacket is a dupe from the Hermes winter collection. You said Mugler-”, Gigi repeats, blasting through a wall in the game.

“Oh- oh you’re saying- this past winter! Of course! Maybe someone on the design team is also a fan?”

“Maybe.”

The two of them finish the round, and Gigi eagerly hits yes; when a little box pops up to add TheNickyDoll to their friends list.

(Gigi adds him back on Discord, too- because they’re probably not taking the Xbox to college, and then, they can send pictures right away.

He’s not a serial killer, and he’s cute.

Gigi can’t help but wonder if Nicky thinks the same of them.)

They slowly knit together in between Gigi’s first semester, and when Nicky moves into a new apartment in the eleventh arrondissement in Paris, and pops a bottle of champagne against his camera on his phone, propped up in his new kitchen. He plays with the zipper on his hoodie, and Gigi still can’t help but be surprised with how simple his wardrobe is.

Gigi spends hours carefully curating their wardrobe, though they supposed in Europe, there were just better pickings.

“Don’t you have friends?”, Gigi jokes, shirtless against the white brick walls of their dorm.

“Everyone will be over later, but I just wanted to do a toast for your timezone. It will be like three am for you when everyone else gets off work.”

“So this is a private party? Well… okay let me get my card.”

“Seriously? Not that kind of party!”

“Didn’t say it was. Congratulations, by the way. I got you something! Well like, I found it, and it’s so you-“

Gigi flicks the camera to face forwards, swinging to a painting hanging in the closet.

“Aw, well you didn’t have to- what the fuck is that?”

“Putin! I painted him in like the eighth grade. My mom was dropping off some stuff last weekend and I can mail him-“

Nicky’s eyebrows shoot up, pots and pans clattering on the other end of the line.

“Bitch, I am trying to not be the victim of a hate crime.”

Gigi laughs a little bit, flipping the camera back to focus on their face.

“I never asked, what do you even do?”

“What?”

“Like you- you have a job right? What’s your job?”

“Ah, I’m working, well I worked at a makeup store, but now I have some contracts, and maybe, you know- this neighborhood is where all the bars and the clubs are. If there’s no work on the runways maybe some will be looking for new girls.”

Gigi’s cheeks run hot for a moment.

“Wait, you- you’re a girl?”, they ask weakly, hoping it won’t absolutely ruin their entire… whatever it is, when you’d rather have a private housewarming alone in bed, than pretend to enjoy the beers that are flowing through the rest of the hall downstairs.

“Only when I’m being paid. Do you know- well, you have to in America you have RuPaul’s show- it’s like that-“

“You do drag? Wait, really?”

“Shhhh.”, he stops them, pressing a finger between his lips. “It’s like, I haven’t got any bookings yet but some of the clubs are interested- some of the parties, too. I can be a bottle girl.”

Gigi simply blinks repeatedly in the screen.

“What- is that too gay? I thought we were both pretty gay.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Hey-“, Gigi keeps the camera on their face, their eyes flicking up towards the naked mannequin resting against the closet door. Most of Gigi’s things were still at home, but there was a black feathered swimsuit they’d been working on- if they took out the waist just a bit-

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Wow, we are getting deep in, Dr Phil.”

“Seriously, what is it?”

“I’m feeling pink recently. Usually just- something simple. Blue. Black. It’s soothing.”

“Black is not a color.”

“Then it’s my favorite not-color.” Nicky pours from the bottle into a flute on her counter. “Get something to drink, come on.”

“Uh-“

“Doesn’t matter what. Come on!”

Gigi reaches for Red Bull, yesterday’s alcohol mixed into it, tangy and stale in the metal can.

“Okay.”

“Pace a Salute!”, Nicky cheers, and they clink their drinks against the camera.

Two months later, there’s a wrapped package on his stoop, covered in foreign postage, wet at the edges like it’s been through- what Americans would call the ringer, the labels so scratched over he can barely make out the return address, when he cuts the cardboard open on his kitchen counter.

If this was that stupid Putin painting, he was deleting Gigi from his entire life-

Inside, is fabric folded in paper, a little cloth ribbon tied around where a card is tucked in.

“I dont know what your actual skin tone is because you need better lights but merry Christmas if it doesn’t fit or doesn’t match sell it on eBay and get better lights”,

Gigi has written, in neat, large letters.

Nicky carefully unfurls the rest of it, and there’s a blue and pink bodysuit inside, accented with green and yellow panels that glitter like the facets of a diamond, and a yellow jacket, the bottom cut off just below the ribs, hemmed in thick stitches so the fabric won’t roll up.

Had Gigi gone and had this made? Or was it off the rack?, he wondered, digging for price tags and labels in the fabric.

Nothing.

Shit.

He fires off a message to Gigi, who is still showing as offline, given it’s probably six in the morning where he is.

14:17

How much is this “gift” you got me? Wtf…

FaceTime me later.

There’s predictably no response, and that night; he paints carefully in the mirror in his bedroom, laying out the little black dress he had chosen for the performance on his bed.

At the very last minute though, it’s that little suit from Gigi that wins out, nude panels sliding over his tights as he shimmies in front of the mirror.

It’s not perfect, but it all looks very nice.

When later comes, Gigi is wearing a red wig with blonde streaks that she runs her long fingers through, winking at the camera.

“My mom’s actually a professional seamstress. It didn’t cost anything, babe.”, she says with a little shrug, a tight yellow dress barely moving around his shoulders. There’s always a party here; and Gigi can’t imagine hating it more, the little college town bigger than he was used to, and yet still- too small for what she really wanted.

“If you want other stuff, I’ll send it. There’s lots of stuff that I don’t really wear anymore and we kind of have the same style. It’s not like anyone can say anything, then they’d have to admit they’ve seen me out in public. Or I could even make you something, I’m bored all the time.”

“Why are you doing this?”, Nicky asks.

“I dunno. It’s not like you’re my competition. You’re my friend.”

19:41

Anyway, I’m dropping out of school, getting a nose job and moving out to LA.

Gigi types out on their phone, underneath the table at their family’s annual thanksgiving dinner.

19:41

Maybe not all at once.

Nicky’s reply comes lightning fast- making Gigi grin.

“Are you seriously getting nudes right now?”, one of their brothers asks, and their mother glares at the both of them over the table.

“I’m getting some new sketches from my atlier in Paris.”, they seethe, glancing back down at the floor. Nicky’s been trying to teach him French, like it’s something that occupies them so that Gigi doesn’t implode; in between sending him links to his favorite shows to watch, and YouTube links to makeup tutorials.

(He still hasn’t figured out if Nicky means it; or if he’s trying to be shady, and just doesn’t know how.)

“Atlier is where you get the clothes made, dumbass. Mom’s sewing room isn’t Paris.”

“Shut up!”

“All of you just stop-”

19:43

It’s a hard time in life in general.

Try not to listen so much to those voices in your head.

Nicky’s text pops up with a loud, mechanical pinging noise, three dots still hovering under the message as Gigi forces looks up from the screen and glowers across the table as they reach for more baby carrots.

19:43

Make mistakes, but not too many, haha. You’ll figure it out.

If it makes you feel a little bit better, I’m moving to San Fran

19:43

What? For real?

Gigi’s nails frantically tap over the screen.

19:45

Yes! I bought a ticket.

And my husband called an immigration lawyer, we’re going to get my green card situation set.

“Lawyer-”, Gigi gasps; and their entire family pauses, glancing over the table at them.

“Jesus Christ. You did it, didn’t you? You got arrested your first semester, and you weren’t even gonna tell us-”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”, they snap, flipping the bird at their oldest brother.

“Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.”

Their whole table erupts in a discussion Gigi can’t pay any attention to.

19:50

Cool.

That means I get to see you soon.

It’s gonna be great.

They taps ou, and close the app with a smile.

They hadn’t known if Nicky even had a boyfriend, not that it mattered; until it did.

Apparently; he had been married, for almost the whole time they had known each other- a blow Gigi hadn’t quite expected, to leave them as breathless as landing in Los Angeles; the shock not setting in, not in full, anyway- until they are standing in a new apartment, looking down at a menu of instructions on how to set up the wifi in the unit, fingers hovering over everyone in contacts.

They can’t call their mom; not this soon, and their brothers would tell her, and the whole plan would crumble; just like everything had with Nicky; whose calls Gigi had declined for the past solid month; the nights they had spent with their phones propped up behind desks and dressing room mirrors fading into something beyond memory; that they refused to think about any more than they had to, the messages asking if they’re alright answered in curt, short replies.

How could they have been so stupid, thinking that they were talking-talking, teasing that Nicky and they were friends; when Gigi didn’t even know what his real name was.

(Unless it was Nicky?)

Shit.

Gigi waits for their phone to load into the app, and refreshes the friends list a couple of times, until they can see Nicky’s icon at the top, the side of the circle cut through with a little green dot, and taps twice to start a call.

“Hi?”

Nicky’s greeting floats in the air, between a breath and utter silence before Gigi swallows their pride, pressing the phone to the side of their face.

“What do you know about connecting a router to a tower if I live on the…um third floor?”

The line crackles, but soon there’s a tiny, familiar chuckle. “First of all, that is not how you do any of that-”

They talk a little more, every day; in between, Nicky moves to New York and Gigi cuts a tape that they put in the mail with a wink. They’re due for a visit home soon, and carefully proposes- maybe it’s time they meet Nicky. New York isn’t far at all, and a layover would make for a cheaper flight, anyway.

Their plans stack up in hours of calls; and Gigi think they’re almost back to normal. Until, three days before the flight is supposed to leave, there’s a call they had forgotten to wait for, and their fingers hover over the message box below Nicky’s name, vibrating with anxiety and excitement all at once.

09:22

Hey. I had a family thing come up.

Gigi types, and then erases the text, steeling themselves as they taps out another one that makes a little more sense, and doesn’t seem like such a lie.

09:30

I’m so so so so sorry about this

I had some things come up and my trip fell through.

They send this instead, surprised to see Nicky start typing back immediately.

09:35

You’re not going to believe this

I have some work things that started recently and so it would have been really shitty to have a guest over now.

09:35

No way!

09:37

Yeah. :(( But we’re gonna hang out someday, I swear!

09:37

Dont worry! You’re definitely gonna see me.

Real real real soon!

“-Where do I go?”, Gigi asks, pulling at the bottom hem of the ornate jacket she wore, fiddling with the gold telescope in her hands. The lights behind the set burned brightly, making the thicker bottoms of the outfit feel much warmer than he had remembered them being.

“Go to that green square on the ground, and wait there, when you see the little arrow light up, you can enter the Werk Room and then we’ll have you stop inside, get your opening line, and let you see the other girls.”

“Okay.”

He does as he’s told, prancing in and kicking his boots in front of him as the lights move to capture Gigi’s entrance, his head only snapping to the side when given the signal, so he can see the others who are already crowded around the pink tables he’s only dreamed of seeing for so long.

“Holy Shit…Nicky?!”

In reality; Gigi can see far more of the detail of Nicky’s face; of her eyebrows and carefully painted cheeks and lashes, of all the effort that they had only really talked about, his eternal summer tan and the long fringe of black hair that he’s always nudging across his forehead, or slicked against a beanie, gone behind a platinum blonde veneer that’s so much brighter than Gigi has ever seen. She’s thinner, and taller, careful breaths underneath sequinned shoulder pads, knees knocking together as she gasps.

“Gigi!”

Widow and Crystal glance at each other over the pink table.

“Hold up, you guys know each other?”

In the flesh; Gigi is impossibly small, the sharp angles of her face, and the dark brown hair that sticks up in angles which Nicky traces against the white of his pillows in his bedroom on the screen of his phone in the morning, taped underneath a gold-tipped pirate hat, and lush, wavy curls. She looks like a model on the runways where Nicky used to work; so close to him that he can feel Gigi’s breath on the back of his hand, as he tightens his grip around the epaulets on her shoulder.

“Gigi Goode.”, she repeats, and Gigi giggles a little at that.

“The Nicky Doll.”, she laughs, and her voice sounds so much more solid, than it ever has over every crossed wire.

Gigi’s hand swings, squeezing Nicky’s tightly as they swing around the table; like the others who are there don’t matter at all. She rests her head on Nicky’s padded shoulder, cocking it just slightly, waiting there, as Crystal’s eyes flash at the scene before them.

“…and may the best woman win.”, Gigi whispers, only for Nicky to hear.

#rpdr fanfiction #nicky doll #gigi goode #gigi x nicky #pre-ship #fluff #online friends au #s12 #on set fic #queen au #campvanjie #concrit welcome

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buckysforeverprincess · 5 years ago

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Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 14

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sarah Rogers

Words: 1749

Warnings: Violence, someone is about to get beat!

A/N: Hello! We are almost to the halfway mark and now that these two are a couple things will start moving and happening. We’re starting to get to the good stuff now! Enjoy!

**TAG LISGT IS OPEN UNTIL CH. 15. PLEASE SEND AN ASK**

Thanksgiving was approaching quickly, and you and Bucky had been together for a month. The only people who knew were Nat and Clint and they were both keeping their mouths shut, letting the two of you set the pace for letting your group of friends know your truth. Hiding your relationship was getting harder by the day and you weren't sure how much longer your resolve would hold, and you’d end up blurting out your secret to everyone while sitting at the lunch table.

Bucky had told you Steve had reached out to him to talk, but your brother never carried through. Your boyfriend had waited around after school, but Steve never came. He’d ditched Bucky and now he felt he was back to square one. The entire thing was taking a toll on you and you knew you would hit your breaking point very soon.

“Hey baby?” Bucky kisses the top of your head. The two of you were wrapped up in a tangled mess of limbs, cuddling on your bed. This had become your favorite after school activity since you started dating. Steve never came home before six and your mom didn't get home from the hospital until around eight, so that gave you plenty of time together without the fear of being caught.

“Hmmmm?” You were so comfortable laying on his chest watching tv that sleep was starting to overtake you.

“I think we should tell Steve.”

You sat up and looked at your boyfriend puzzled. “Really? Why?”

��Because I don't want to hide anymore, and I see the stress this is causing you. You've been so good, no attacks lately, but I feel the longer we keep this a secret the more we jeopardize your anxiety. I won't do that to you.” Bucky’s gently holding your face and you see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You really are perfect.”

Bucky chuckles and leans in for a soft kiss. Kissing him has become your most favorite thing next to cuddles. “When should we do this?” Asking him as you pull away to grab your phone checking the time.

“No time like the present. Let's just get it over with.” He gets up off the bed, putting on his shoes in case he'll need to make a quick getaway.

“Well, Steve should be home soon, it's ten minutes to six and I need to start dinner anyway. Guess now’s a good time to have all hell break loose,” you joke and get up off the bed.

Leaving your bedroom. the two of you head out to the kitchen to start dinner. Pasta sounds good and is quick and easy and you have zero motivation to do something big. Bucky helps by grabbing the box of shells and sauce from the cupboard and sets the items down on the counter. He's become familiar with the location of certain things now that he’s spending more time in your home. You've never asked him to help, he just does and you're happy this caring, helpful man is yours.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Steve's voice startles you and you turn to see a very pissed off Steve and an equally annoyed Sam standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Steve’s was in full alpha mode with his chest puffed out, looking like bull at a rodeo ready to strike. This could get ugly quick and you hoped you could diffuse this situation before it got any worse.

“Dinner is what's going on. Hope you're in the mood for pasta.” You turned away and focused your attention to the shells boiling in the pot on the stove, dismissing your brothers’ question.

“Answer my question Y/N! What is he doing here?!” Steve inches closer to Bucky, preparing for a fight. His fists are balled up at his sides and you know he could strike at any moment.

You turn around and place yourself between Bucky and Steve, making yourself a shield to protect your boyfriend. “My boyfriend is here helping me make dinner! The fuck are you doing here?” You redirect the question to Steve, using the same tone he’d thrown at you.

“I fucking live here! And since when is he your boyfriend?” Steve yells, his face turning red. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam shaking his head in disapproval.

Bucky decides to take the lead and moves from behind you into Steve's direct line of sight. “For the past month,” he answers, “please don't be mad, Steve. We wanted to tell you and that’s why I’m here. We were ready to come clean and hoped you’d be accepting of our relationship. We’re sorry for hiding it from you.” Bucky apologizes looking directly at Steve, but Steve's eyes are locked on you.

“Seriously?!” Sam yells from behind Steve. “You couldn't get enough outta Brittany, you just had to come after Y/N too?!”

“I didn't do anything with that girl!” Bucky defends against the verbal attack. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “Since when is tonsil hockey nothing?! Why could you just leave her alone? She doesn't need you, you're no better than Brock!”

Sam’s words ignite a fire in you and you've absolutely had enough. “How dare you talk to my boyfriend that way, and how dare you say that name in my house! I am sick to death of your shit Sam Wilson! Quit judging him on something he knew nothing about and trust me to be able to make my own decisions. Last time I checked I was still my own person!”

“He's just trying to protect you!” Steve joins in the yelling match, agreeing with his friend.

“Protect me from what, myself?! I’m seriously damaged beyond repair, no one can fuck me up anymore!” You're facing your brother at this point, knowing he's got a rebuttal for everything.

“You're not damaged-”

“Just fucking stop Steve!” You interrupt him. “I know what I am! And guess what? He knows it too, but he doesn't judge me for it. He cares about me, my feelings, my thoughts. Me! He makes me happy. Can't you see this is the happiest I've been in a long time? Why can't you just let me have this? What’s more important to you, the person I've been for the last year or me right now?” Your eyes are watering from all the emotion building inside you.

“I won't hurt her, Steve. I care about her too much,” Bucky says, coming up behind you and wraps you up in a loving embrace.

“And when you do, we'll be the ones picking up the pieces just like before!” Sam's tone just as harsh and not letting up.

“God, you just can't cut me a break, can you?” Bucky steps away from you and moves past Steve to stand directly in front of Sam. “What did I do to make you hate me?”

“You think I can't see it? I'm sure there's a reason you moved here from nowhere Indiana. Probably got in trouble and this was your only chance at redemption. You're just another broken white boy that needs fixing and she's not your savior!” Sam has inched his way closer to Bucky, the two of them are practically breathing the same air.

“You need to leave, Sam. I won't ask you again.” You're staring daggers at him, the tone of your voice anything but nice.

Sam scoffs and steps back from Bucky, his gaze now fixed on you. “You're joking right?! I've known you since the first grade, and you're siding with him after a month?! Obviously, Brock fucked you all kinds of wrong, because you are seriously fucked up in the head!”

Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It took all of three seconds for Bucky to react, punching Sam in the face, making the boy fall to the ground. In an instant, Bucky was on him, continuing his attack, landing punch after punch with no intention of stopping.

Steve watches in a state of disbelief, but then comes to his senses and moves to the two on the floor trying to remove the brunette from Sam, but Bucky's body is just about as big as Steve’s and lifting him from the other man was a struggle.

“Let go of me!” Bucky yells, trying to remove the grasp that’s holding him back from his target.

“Bucky stop please! You're gonna seriously hurt him!” Steve pleads with an adrenaline filled Bucky, finally peeling him off Sam.

“That's the fucking point!” Sam’s face has taken a beating, blood coming from multiple openings and cuts.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Sarah Rogers has entered the kitchen and assess the scene. She moves quickly, kneeling next to the bloodied boy laying on the ground. “Sam are you ok?”

Sam just groans in response, the fight taking its toll on him. “Don’t get up, let me check you out first. Steve…,” Sarah gets the attention of her son, “… get Bucky out and then tend to your sister.”

In all the confusion, you had been forgotten. You were sitting on the ground with your knees up to your chest trying to control your breathing, a panic attack had set it.

Bucky removes himself from Steve’s hold and crawls to your side. “I'm so sorry baby!” He places his arms around your body and starts rocking you back and forth trying to offer comfort with his embrace.

“Bucky…,” you cry out, tears running down your face.

“I'm here baby, I'm not leaving you.” His lips are peppering your head with tender kisses as he rocks you.

“Bucky... what did you do?” You whisper and start to pull away from his embrace.

“I'm sorry… I… he… fuck!” He stutters, unable to make out a complete sentence.

“Hey Bucky, let’s go.” Steve’s next to him, a large hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I'll take you home.” Steve's words are soft and there's a kindness about him.

Bucky hesitated for a moment and gave you one last kiss before standing got to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours. “I love you.” Was the last thing he said, turning to Steve and letting the blond walk him through the house, leaving you to watch your mother tend the boy who just took a beating at the hands of the guy you loved.

COLS TAGS:

@ellallheart @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bookgirlunicorn @widowsmaximoff @jhangelface0523 @broco8 @eliza5616 @nighttwingg @bloodyproudpotterhead @sexyvixen7 @marvelismysafezone @orions-stars3 @ava1453 @beardburnsupersoldiers @afterlaughter27 @booboobella01

FOREVER TAGS:

@jamesbarnesappreciationclub @kruscht @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @geeksareunique @peaceinourtime82 @leosandbuckysgirl @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @awkwardfangirl2014 @collette04 @notyourtypicalrose @onebatch--twobatch @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @unlikelygalaxygiver @lancetuckershairgel @babypink224221 @mybabe-buckybarnes @shield-agent78 @the-real-kellymonster

#Bucky Barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader sister #sam wilson #sarah rogers #can our love survive

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carsontheleft · 4 years ago

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Hot Mess

Summary: Hot Space is a hot mess and John does not want to not talk to Roger anymore. Things get more emotional than any of them bargained for.

Pairing: JohnxRoger (platonic), RogerxDominique (mentioned), JohnxVeronica (mentioned)

Comment: Hey, look, I’m still alive! I started this a while ago and then I spontaneously finished it yesterday and THEN I thought about posting it immediately and then I DIDN’T and now it’s John’s birthday it just fits quite nicely. Happy Birthday, John! Have fun with this, y’all.

John has to forcibly hold himself back from slamming the coffee pot back into its place. No coffee would only worsen the already disastrous day. Week. Month, almost. For the first time, Munich doesn’t seem to be their lucky place.

But maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s because John finally lets himself push for things he wants, that he likes and doesn’t let himself give in just because Brian is pushing for his way.

Brian. The mere thought of the guitarist turns John’s stomach into knots and pushes up his blood pressure. How can a single person be so fucking obnoxious, bull-headed, old-fashioned-

Okay, stop.

John takes a deep breath of stale basement air and decides he needs to breathe real, fresh, cold air without a huge grey, looming building pressing down on him.

Arriving on ground level, he takes one of the back doors leading to a narrow alleyway to escape. The air here smells a bit sweetly of the rotting food in trash cans, but it’s cold and sharp and already saturated with bluish smoke of cigarettes.

Roger is crouching beside John’s feet, leaning against the grey stone, with a pack of Marlboro Reds at his feet. It’s half empty and it’s not even noon.

“It’s not really the right weather for being outside without a jacket, is it?”

It isn’t. November in Munich doesn’t provide conditions to do anything outside. Where Montreux may have gotten the last golden sunrays of the year or the winter’s first snow, Munich is just grey, dreary and dark.

“I don’t see you wearing one”, Roger squints upwards at John having forgotten his sunglasses downstairs.

“Fair enough.”

Neither of them talks when John lights his cigarette.

Normally, that would be unusual. There has hardly ever been a time where John and Roger didn’t talk to each other, may it be because of an argument or because they didn’t have anything to talk about.

But not-talking is the safer choice of interaction nowadays. Not-talking doesn’t pose such a high risk for arguments.

But they’re friends and John wants to talk to Roger, he wants to explain his ideas and visions just like he’s always done it, but he’s not sure Roger would listen. And he just doesn’t understand why, doesn’t get why Roger and Brian are so afraid of some change, when that’s what’s Queen been about all along, a band not succumbing to trends and expectations, a band that always knew to surprise.

“John, I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

John nearly drops his cigarette when Roger’s voice rips him out of his thoughts.

He’s looking at him, and John is suddenly hit by how young Roger appears with his tousled blonde hair and wide blue eyes, that, admittedly, are blood-shot, but that doesn’t take the child-like innocence out of them.

Despite that, John scoffs.

“It’s hardly me who’s at fault here.”

Roger visibly flinches at that, recoils and turns his eyes back to the dirty pavement in front of him.

John’s worked hard to build up the defenses he’s calling his own now, so thick and impenetrable that not even Brian with his jabs and sniping remarks can get through them.

But now Roger’s ripped through them, just like that.

“Rog…”

“No, no, it’s fine, you’ve made your point”, his voice is a little husky, only barely betraying his hurt, “I’m going back inside, see you there.”

And it’s actually this eerie calm, which is so unlike Roger, that John wakes from the stupor he’s worked himself into and makes him realize they really should stop fighting and get to talking instead.

Roger’s quiet for the remainder of day, too. And John’s not the only one who notices, Freddie asks if Rog is alright and earns himself a grumbled “Just want to get out of this shithole”; Brian only grants him an irritated look when Roger doesn’t jump to his defense. Mack, Crystal and the other roadies opt for not saying anything at all, they know better but to get into arguments that cannot be stopped anyway.

It’s when Roger practically flees from the studio after they collectively decide they won’t get much more done and doesn’t stay back to joke around with the others that John decides he has to do something immediately.

He gets some beer, the German stuff isn’t really his taste, but Roger seems to have taken a liking to it, grabs two pizzas from the Italian place Mack did recommend and walks over to Roger’s apartment.

It takes the drummer some time to answer his door, two rounds of insistent knocking and a raised hand to start a third one, only then there’s some shuffling, the clicking of locks and Roger opens the door a fraction.

“Why’re you here?”, his blond hair is sticking up in every direction and he’s wearing a dark fluffy bathrobe. There is a flush to Roger’s cheeks that tells John he either pulled his friend from a bath or was just lucky to catch him coming out of the shower.

“To talk. Not to fight”, John holds up the pizza boxes with the beer stacked on top, “Please, Rog.”

Roger stares at him for a moment and for once John absolutely can’t read the usually so emotional face. Then he heaves out a sigh and opens the door to let John in.

The place is cluttered in a typical Roger-fashion. An overflowing ashtray, papers with what could be lyrics or shopping lists, a part of a drumstick for some reason and a colorful array of take out packaging. John winces, maybe he should’ve brought stuff to cook a fresh meal instead of gifting Roger yet another pre-made supper.

“How’s Dom?”

“She’s good. Took Felix and went to visit her parents, escaping the rain and stuff. You know how she hates it”, he does his best to declutter the couch table, mindlessly stacking pieces of paper on top of each other without looking at them or at John, for that matter.

“How are Ronnie and the kids?”

“They’re good, Ron wants to come down next week, but we’ll have to see if it works with Robert and the school. I miss them.”

Now Roger looks at him, but it’s not the look of disdain and almost disgust he wore when John presented them the lyrics of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ and he threw a fit over ‘I’m happy at home’. This one is one of understanding and compassion.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s have a taste of that beer you brought, yeah?”

They mostly eat in silence, only interrupted by the quiet murmuring of the TV and one of them occasionally commenting on the food or the beer. When John’s done with his food Roger is intently watching the 10 pm news. He’s not sure the drummer understands much of it, but John is willing to indulge him a while longer. It’s not like he’s looking forward to this heart-to-heart, but he knows it’s necessary and they’ll feel better once they’re done. John only wishes he could fast forward everything in between now and then.

“We need to talk about this”, John starts eventually when the pretty blonde woman on the TV is done with telling them that the next days will be just as dreary as today.

“And what exactly does ‘this’ entail?”

Roger is already in full on confrontation mood, and John has to force himself to stay calm. It’s Roger, he tells himself, no matter that it was actually him who put up the white flag this morning, he still doesn’t like to be cornered.

“Us not working like we used to. The constant fighting and discussions and nothing coming out of it. You constantly siding with Brian without listening to a word I say!”

Oh shit, he really could’ve worded that better.

“Me not listening? I AM listening, other than Brian and you! I’m listening to both your opinions and then I decide!”

“And it’s always in favor of Brian!”

“Well, if we share an opinion, then yes!”

“But why? Why are you so intent on keeping everything as it is?”, they’ve gotten louder and John really, really doesn’t want this to evolve into another shouting match, but he might not be strong enough to reign himself in.

But, much to John’s surprise, Roger sighs and slumps back against the couch rubbing his eyes.

“Because it works! We’re doing this how long now? 10 years? People know us, they expect our product to meet a certain standard, an expectation.”

“Our- our product? A certain standard? Roger, what are you talking about? Isn’t our music about how we feel? What we think? It’s not supposed to be some commercial bullshit”, John is seriously flabbergasted. Not in a million years he would have thought Roger would start to view their work as a ‘job’ only consisting of deadlines and expectations and goal fulfilment.

He scoots over to the other end of the couch where Roger is sitting and bumps their knees together.

“What brought this on, Rog? What’s going on?”

“It’s just…”, the drummer shrugs, rubs his eyes again and then starts to knead the shoulder muscles that John knows are always a bit tense, always a bit sore.

“We’ve been doing this 10 years, John, ten years! How many bands have made it farther than that? Who says it won’t just all fall apart next month? We can’t just start making different music now!”

“We’ve been always aware of that possibility. There was always the chance we wouldn’t make it, but now we’ve got number one hits in America! We’re an established name!”

It feels a bit weird to take on the motivational part, the part of convincing the others that they have actually made it. Usually, it’s Roger who does that.

“Yeah, but…”, Roger blows out a breath, “Don’t you feel like- like you were 27 just yesterday, snorting all the coke in New Orleans without a care in the world and now, now there’s a child and- and a-“

“A woman you might as well just marry”, John tightly presses his lips together to not let the laughter escape. So, that’s what all this is about, Roger just realized he’s actually a grown-up now and he doesn’t feel too comfortable about it.

“It’s not that!”, Roger argues, “What difference does a bloody certificate make?! I have a family now; I have to provide!”

John sucks in his cheeks to keep himself from grinning. He gets it, he does, Roger’s worries are understandable, and he doesn’t want to ridicule his friend, but from John’s position his worries are a bit ridiculous, when they’re in far better position now than when John first became a father.

“Dom has a job, too, you know?”, John teases, fully intending to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect.

“That’s- Stop making fun of me!”, Roger jumps up from the sofa and hovers over John, fists clenching at his side as if he has to keep them from either punching something or someone or from thrashing his apartment.

“You know, sometimes I feel like that’s the only thing I’m good for! The dumb blonde, that crazy drummer guy, let’s make fun of him, he deserves it! He’s no good for anything anyway, can’t manage to write a good song, and we don’t even need him for drumming anymore!”

Oh. Oh.

So that’s where all this moodiness is coming from.

Roger rarely shares his feeling so honestly, usually none of them does if there are not copious amounts of alcohol and or other substances involved, but Roger especially likes to keep everything bottled up, until it implodes. And that leaves either a destroyed room or drumkit, or Roger in front of a toilet puking his guts out and avoiding just about everyone for a few days after until he’s okay with himself again.

So, to say the least, this emotional outbreak with feelings actually being articulated is uncharted territory for John. And for Roger too, who’s staring at John like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Rog-“

“Forget it!”

He stalks away, fluffy bathrobe and naked feet, and slams his bedroom door shut.

John sighs and settles back into the sofa. He came to talk and he’ll get his talk, even if he has to stay the night. With Roger, that might just be the case.

Well. At least the apartment has a second bathroom.

John wakes a couple of hours later, around 3 am. It’s a weird feeling, usually they’d still be out and drinking, but it’s probably not the worst thing to get a whole 8 hours of sleep at what is actually night.

A sharp gust of icy cold air wafts through the room and John finds that it was that what woke him in the first place with the flimsy throw he used as a blanket not providing adequate cover.

The apartment is mostly dark save for the lights of the city streaming in through the window and John can see through the door gap into the hall and that Roger’s bedroom door is open again.

He finds him in the kitchen, standing in front of the open window smoking.

“You’re still here”, he notes when John steps up beside him.

“I wanted a talk, an honest conversation. I won’t leave until I get one.”

“Took a note out of Freddie’s book then, huh?”

“Freddie?”, John scoffs, “Try your own.”

Roger turns to him, mouth open and already gesturing with the softly glowing cigarette. “I’m not-“

“Ridge Farm?”

That takes his drive. He turns back to the view, deeply inhaling the burning smoke. John takes one out of Roger’s packet. He doesn’t really like the brand, but it’s better than nothing.

“You taped my drums, John”, Roger eventually says.

“Are you still mad about this? I’m sorry and I promise not to touch the kit again without you knowing.”

“It’s not that- well, that too, but-“, Roger takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “You tape my drums and there’s nothing I can do that a drum machine isn’t able to. Hell, I’m not even the best drummer without them taped, my technique is weird, if you can even call it that, there are guys who are a lot better than me and understand this disco thing you’re prattling on about.”

“It’s not like Brian-“

“He’s trying, okay? He’s trying to get into that kind of music, he’s not sprinkling guitar solos all over the songs like you’d do it with coke on a hooker because he wants to annoy you! Well, not primarily anyway, but he’s trying to make his contribution to what you’re doing! He wants to have part in this and I, I just don’t see it, I’m sorry.”

Roger flips the butt of his smoke out of the window and rubs his eyes.

“But we can’t just stop! We can’t just stop at The Game and that’s it! We need something new, start fresh like we’ve done it with each album.”

John finishes his cigarette as well but makes a show of putting it out in the ashtray.

“I know that, Deaks, I do! I really don’t want to become the guy that needs to be dragged off stage because the people got tired of him playing the same things over and over and over again! But I just can’t do this disco thing.”

John understands this. You can’t force yourself to produce music you just don’t feel. This is like Fred and his love for opera and musical theater, something John will never get the hang of, no matter how often he’ll take Ronnie to the ballet. And while Roger does like a more electric style of music, he’s not really known for setting the dancefloor on fire. Maybe the women on it but not the dancefloor itself.

“I know you and Freddie don’t need me to realize your vision, this album but I- I can’t lose Queen, John, I can’t. It’s everything.”

Roger’s almost too quiet for John to understand resting against the kitchen counter in the dark, half of his face illuminated by Munich’s night life in a loose shirt and a pair of boxers.

And John thinks, this is it. This is what all this is about.

Because John started to play with those guys he now calls his brothers as a hobby, as a distraction and creative outlet opposite his studies. He had never envisioned to become a famous musician; this never had been a goal for him. So he had sat back and let Freddie, Brian and Roger work on the music, on the band, had let them work on their dream.

And then he had turned 30 and for the first time John had thought that this might be what he’d do the rest of his life. And he decided to give it his everything all, to make a monument for himself, to really give his very best.

And for Roger it had always been like that. There never had been a second option, a plan B, go big or go home. John’s pretty sure even if they hadn’t made it, Roger still would still be a musician. If not in Genesis then in some local band or a studio musician, but he never, ever would have gone to work in some lab or, even worse, in a dentist’s office.

“What are you talking about? You won’t lose Queen! Never! We’d lose all our female fans if we kicked you out!”

“Great to hear that that’d be the greatest loss”, Roger grumbles and turns away but John catches his wrist.

“You won’t lose us. We need you. Who’d be there to back up Fred when his voice is shot? Who’d argue with Brian just to draw him out of his funks? And heaven knows, not Brian nor me can keep up with Freddie.”

“Like I can these days.”

And there’s the other worry hanging in the air around them, Freddie leaving them behind more often than not, being more elusive than he’s ever been. But that’s a worry for another night, right now this is about the two of them, the Sonic fucking Volcano.

“Come on”, John tugs on Roger’s wrist, “Get over here.”

“Deaks, no, I don’t-“

John tugs a little harder and then Roger’s body is pressed flush against his.

“Like you ever say no to a good hug.”

“I hate you”, the drummer mumbles against John’s shoulder and heaves out a mighty sigh relaxing into the embrace.

“I’m sure you do.”

They rest like that for a few minutes, which is not really a thing they’d normally do, but they’re both tired and miss their partners. It’s okay.

“Y’know”, Roger says as he detangles himself, “I’m not sure Queen would lose all its lady fans if I left. Not with you looking like some kind of… Greek God.”

He wrinkles his nose and pokes John into his right pec.

“It’s called exercise, Rog, you could try it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t exercise daily on those bloody drums. Also, Dom likes it. She calls me soft and cuddly.”

He sticks out his chest.

“Wow, look at that, Roger Taylor is proud of being called soft, what a turn of events!”

“Well, at least I don’t look like handlebar with an exploded mop on top.”

“Handlebar? I seem to recall you calling me a Greek god not 30 seconds ago!”

“Yeah, and I regret it already. Just wait until I throw you out of the band!”

#dealor #roger taylor #john deacon #queen #fic #hot space #hurt/comfort #banter

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morrisondauthor · 5 years ago

Text

“Behind the Platform”

I remember a time when I enjoyed doing a photoshoot with Jamal. We’d smile and have fun while the photographer snapped shots of us and the mood would be so genuine. After the photoshoot, we’d go back home and have sex like two wild animals. Hell, there were times where we couldn’t even make it home and we’d have to get it on in the back of his Chevrolet Tahoe. I truly missed those moments. Now, five years into our relationship, I constantly found myself wondering if being with him was still worth it.

“Turn your head toward me,” the photographer directed as he got in position to take another shot.

I turned my head towards him while facing the wall and he snapped a few shots of me. When I looked up and saw the way Jamal was watching me from across the room, a shiver ran up my spine. I could tell he was still angry because of the argument we had the night before. He hadn’t said a word to me that morning but every time he stared at me; I could feel his anger. When the time came for him to join me, he finally spoke to me.

“I wanna do a separate shoot, Corey,” he told me as he took his shirt off. “I’m not really in the mood to do that lame ass couple shit.”

“Lame ass couple shit?” I asked. “You really are on some other shit today. We’re supposed to send in solo pics and pics of us together. They’re not gonna pick us for the ad if we don’t.”

“So?”

“Jamal…”

“Can you go the fuck on already? You’re done.”

“This little pissy attitude of yours is really getting old. I can’t believe you’re this mad because I used the last bit of laundry detergent last night. It is not that damn serious. All you had to do was take your ass down to the store and buy some more.”

Me (Corey McMillan)

“It ain’t even about that.”

“Oh, what the fuck ever, Jamal. I’ve had it with you picking petty shit to argue with me over. And I’m tired of defending your stank ass attitude whenever my friends are visiting.”

“Fuck your bitch ass friends. All they do is talk shit and eat my food and junk up my apartment.”

“Your apartment?!”

“Yes! I pay most of the bills up in that mothafucka! You’ve had it with me, huh? I’ve been had it with your sorry ass! Now get the fuck out my way!” He pushed me out of the way so that he could begin his session with the photographer.

Jamal Grant

Everyone working around the room was staring at me and I was so embarrassed. It was the first time we’d had an argument in front of strangers. The fact that he could talk to me like that in public had me on the verge of crying. It’s one thing to talk to me like that when we were at home, but it’s another to do it while we were at a photoshoot to promote our brand. It was like professionalism meant nothing to him anymore. I was beginning to believe nothing, including me, meant anything to him anymore.

My relationship with Jamal began during our senior year of high school. We’d known each other since ninth grade but it wasn’t until our last year at Braxton-Jacobs High that we noticed each other. Things moved very fast between us and after we graduated, he came out to his parents. They didn’t accept him and threw him out of their home. My parents wouldn’t let him come live with us so I turned down the chance to go to a local university and left with Jamal. He had a cousin living in Los Angeles so we traveled all the way to the other side of the country. While living with his cousin, we began vlogging on YouTube and that was the beginning of it all.

Our YouTube channel, JCGrantENT, grew into a pretty big business venture for us. We got all kinds of endorsements and had millions of subscribers as well as large followings on several social media accounts. The thing I loved about it the most was that we had a platform to promote being black and gay in America. We had a voice and influence in things that mattered and no price could be put on something that valuable. It was so sad that after building such a platform, we’d reduced ourselves to pretending to still be happy. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time we actually were happy.

“Don’t forget the damn detergent,” he snapped at me as I was getting out of his Tahoe at the grocery store. He handed me the debit card in a rude manner without even looking at me.

I snatched the card from him and asked, “Do you want anything else?”

“We’re low on Red Bull and get me some Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its.”

I slammed the door and headed into the store. After putting the laundry detergent, Red Bull and a box of Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its in the shopping cart, I headed over to the restrooms because I had to pee. I left the shopping cart by the water fountain and hurried into the men’s room. When I got in there and saw my fitness trainer Kevonte taking a selfie, I called out, “Hey, Kevonte.”

He looked at me and smiled as he said, “Wassup, Corey.”

Kevonte

“Wow, this is my first time seeing you outside of the gym.”

“Yeah, I know. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Same. I’m supposed to be picking up a few things but thought I’d come in here and take a pic for the Gram since I’m in a mood.”

I laughed and said, “I feel you.”

“See you around.”

“Alright, later.” After I watched him leave, I went over to a urinal and relieved myself. I then washed my hands and when I headed out of the bathroom, I was surprised to see Kevonte standing by my cart. “I thought you were going to pick up the items you needed?”

“I am but I was hoping we could talk while I did that. I see you already got your stuff.”

“I still gotta get some bananas.” I began pushing the cart and he walked alongside me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, you haven’t been at the gym in a couple of weeks. Everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.”

“Are you and your dude still having problems?”

“Um…not really.”

“That’s good. I don’t see how anybody could be mad at you for a long time anyway.”

I blushed and rolled my eyes as we made it to the produce section. I grabbed two bunches of bananas and put them in the shopping cart before asking him, “Will you be working with anyone else tomorrow?”

“Nope, I’m free tomorrow. You wanna get in a good workout?”

“I sure do.”

“Cool, I’ll think of some good routines to put together for you. I hope you’re ready to put in some work. You know how intense I like to get with it.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You know what?” Jamal asked, popping up out of nowhere.

“Baby, what are you doing in here?” I asked. “I got everything and I’m about to go to the register.”

He put his finger in Kevonte’s face and asked, “Who the fuck is this nigga?”

“Whoa, get your finger out my face, bruh,” Kevonte said as he pushed Jamal’s hand away.

“I know you didn’t just put your hands on me!”

“Jamal, stop!”

“You might be taller than me but I will fuck you up, my nigga.”

“Jamal!”

Kevonte took off his backpack and told me, “You better get your lil’ man, Corey. Because I ain’t the one.”

“I ain’t the one either, nigga! What the fuck is good?”

I put the shopping cart in between them and pushed Jamal back while telling him, “You are making yourself look so fucking stupid! Kevonte is my gym trainer!”

“I heard what y’all were just talking about. He said something about doing routines and getting intense. Corey, if you’re fuckin’ this nigga I swear…”

“My dude, I got a girlfriend,” Kevonte snapped. “I am straight. You really need to chill.” He gave me a look and asked, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Man, you need to fuckin’ walk away,” Jamal said to him. “Asking my boyfriend if he’s gonna be okay. I’m really about to lay hands on your bitch ass!”

“I’ll be fine,” I told Kevonte. “I’m really sorry about this.”

He gave Jamal a look and Jamal stared back at him until he began to walk away. Once he was gone, Jamal looked at me and said, “Go pay for this shit and then bring your dumb ass outside. Had me out in the car waiting forever on your ass!”

He continued to talk out loud as he walked away from me and everyone near me stared. For the second time that day, I felt so embarrassed. I paid for our items and as I walked back out to his truck, I prayed that he would just drop it and go back to not saying anything to me. I was so afraid of one of us saying something that we couldn’t take back. We were halfway home when he decided to break his silence.

“Did he fuck you?” he asked while keeping his eyes on the road.

“I’m not even answering that,” I replied. “Because you’re not going to believe anything I say anyway.”

“Corey, just be honest with me. Has he ever fucked you or did you give him head or anything?”

“Jamal, he is straight.”

“But you’re attracted to him, right?”

“No!”

“You never mentioned that nigga to me.”

“Because we never talk like that anymore. I try to tell you things and you just tune me out. Jamal, I’m really fed up today. Just leave me alone.”

“You’re fed up? I’m tired of your bullshit, too. I’m tired of your friends always coming over and I’m tired of your bitching! Now, you got some nigga about to fight me up in the damn grocery store!”

“Oh my God! You’re the one who came in trippin’ when I told you he’s just my gym trainer!”

“A gym trainer you never told me about! Is he really even a gym trainer?” He stopped at a red light and waited for me to say something but when I didn’t, he shook his head and said, “You know what, fuck you.”

The moment he said that to me, I realized that he wasn’t the same Jamal Grant that I fell in love with back in high school. That person simply did not exist anymore. The way he said it was so blasé as if he just didn’t care how I would take it. On the rest of the ride home, I didn’t say another word to him. I was so upset that I felt like crying but I kept it all inside. We made it home and I hopped out of his truck and hurried inside our apartment building. I went up to our apartment and into the kitchen and made myself a glass of ice water. When he came in with the grocery bags, something just snapped inside me.

“You need to pack some of your stuff and leave for a day or two,” I told him.

He looked at me and responded, “I pay half the rent in here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re the one with the problem so you should remove yourself from the situation, Jamal. I’m not going to sit here and allow you to talk to me that way. I am an adult just like you are and that means we discuss things in a civil manner. I understand you’re jealous…”

“Jealous?” He smirked and said, “I ain’t jealous of any damn thing. That overgrown ass nigga ain’t shit for me to be jealous over.”

“You pose for pictures and laugh it up with so many other guys yet you can’t stand for me to have a conversation with my gym trainer in a grocery store? You are so wrong. And then you have the audacity to talk to me like some random guy off the streets.”

“Corey…”

“Pack some of your shit right now and go stay with one of your friends. Do you need me to call one of them and ask if it’s okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Corey. You might as well get over yourself.” He placed the grocery bags and detergent on the counter before telling me, “Put that stuff up. I gotta go take a piss.”

He left the kitchen and ran upstairs and after I took the few groceries out of the bag and put them away, I went upstairs and into our bathroom. He was at the sink washing his hands so when he looked up into the mirror and saw me standing there, I told him, “I can pack some stuff for you.”

“I already told you I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not either. You’re not getting me out of here so you can bring that punk bitch up in here and you’re not going to go stay with him.”

“See, this is why I don’t tell your insecure ass anything.”

“I’m insecure now?”

“You’ve always been insecure. But I make excuses for your insecurities and I have to stop doing that.”

He laughed a little and asked, “You really are on some shit today, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the one acting like a child today. I’m serious, Jamal. I want you to leave.”

“You say that now and then like thirty minutes later you’re gonna want to do a prank video for YouTube.”

“I guess I’m going to have to prove how serious I am.”

I left the bathroom and went into our bedroom. I pulled one of his luggage bags from his side of our closet and opened it on the floor. When I began snatching some of his clothes down and dropping them into the bag, he pushed me deeper into the closet and shouted, “Don’t touch my fucking clothes! See, there you go playing and shit!”

“I’m not playing with you, Jamal! Get your shit and get the fuck out!”

I stood there and waited for him to pull some of his own clothes down but when he didn’t, I bent down and grabbed a pair of his shoes. He knocked them out of my hand and when I tried to get him out of my way, he punched me. And it wasn’t a light punch or a little smack; he punched me in my mouth with his fist closed as hard as he could. Immediately, the look on his face changed and tears filled his eyes. I was in shock for about a second but the moment I tasted blood; I went crazy on him. I lost count of how many times I hit him back. I kneed him in the balls and when he went down, I ran out of that closet as fast as I could. He was right behind me though and almost caught me as I ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said through sobs as he knocked on the door. “Corey, please open the door. I swear to God I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Fuck you, Jamal!” I shouted. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how busted my lip was. I began crying as I screamed, “You motherfucker!”

“Oh my God, baby. I fucked up. I didn’t mean to do that shit. Come out here and hit me as hard as you want to and I promise I won’t do that shit again. Baby, please!”

I reached into my pocket to grab my phone but realized it wasn’t there. I’d left it downstairs on the kitchen counter. As angry as I was with him, I was angrier with myself. I let it get to that point instead of calling one of my friends or his friends to help diffuse our argument or help one of us leave the apartment before it went too far. Still, he crossed a line when he punched me. I just never expected him to ever do something like that to me.

“Corey, please just come out and let me know you’re alright. Don’t go silent on me, baby. I love you so much and you know I would never do some shit like that to you on purpose. I just…I got so mad. It’s all my fault and I promise you I will make it up to you somehow.”

“You can’t.”

“What? What did you say, baby?”

“I said you can’t, Jamal. You can’t make this up to me and you…” I got choked up but continued, “I really need you to go for a walk or a drive right now.”

“I’ll do anything. How long do you want me to go?”

“Go away for two hours. I need like two hours.”

“And you’ll be here when I get back?”

I almost broke down as I lied, “Yeah. I’ll be here, baby.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go downstairs and get some ice for my eye and then I’m gonna go for a drive. I love you, Corey. I love you.”

He waited for me to say it back but after a little while, he gave up and I heard him go downstairs. I listened closely as he moved around in the kitchen and when I heard the front door open and close, I unlocked the door and left the bathroom. I went downstairs and made sure he was gone before I ran back upstairs and packed some clothes and essential items I’d need. I randomly chose a friend in my phone and called to ask if I could stay with her for a little while. She told me I could and I caught a Lyft to her place. That night, I sent a long text to Jamal telling him that we were over and that I’d be back to get my things soon. I then blocked him before he could respond to the text.

“Those boxes are going to storage,” I told the movers as I pointed to the boxes. “Please be careful with them.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the movers.

“You don’t have to put some of your stuff in storage, Corey,” my friend Nick said to me. “I have enough room for it.”

“Nope. I am only staying with you and Darnell until I can save up enough money to get my own place. That shouldn’t take me long. I’ve already withdrawn my half of the money from me and Jamal’s joint account so it won’t take much added to it to have enough to get my own place.”

“I still can’t believe it’s over between you two. I mean; damn, y’all were together before you even moved out here from back east.”

“I’d been having doubts, Nick. We’d been arguing more and more and when he did what he did…I just didn’t have any option other than this.”

“You’re stronger than me. If Darnell ever hit me, I’d still stay with him with my low self-esteem ass.”

I laughed a little and said, “Darnell would never hit you though. He has too much respect for you to ever do that.”

“Unlike me, huh?” Jamal asked as he entered the apartment.

“You told me you weren’t going to be here, Jamal. I’m calling the police.”

“Baby, wait. I’m not here to hurt you. I just needed to see you in person. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“That is an eternity when it means being away from you. Please, I really need to say some things to you that I probably won’t get to say after you leave this apartment. Can we have a moment alone?”

“Nope, whatever you have to say will have to be said in front of Nick and these movers walking around in here.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He moved closer to me and looked into my eyes as he began, “Corey, I apologize for putting my hands on you. I honestly don’t know what got into me and I have already signed up for counseling. We can put JCGrantENT on pause while we work through this. I can sleep down here on the sofa. I won’t go to any parties or hang out with my boys and I’ll do anything you need me to do. You are my everything, Corey.”

“Are you done?”

Tears rushed to his eyes as he pleaded, “Baby, please take some time to think about this. You know you’re all I have. You were there when my family threw me out. I don’t have anybody else and you know that. Now, I take full responsibility for everything. I know I have work to do and I am going to do it and I know one day I’ll be the man you fell in love with again.” He waited for me to say something but I just looked at him. As if I’d just punched him in his chest, he began breathing heavily as his tears rolled down his face. He placed his hand on his chest and managed to say, “You’re looking at me like this is the last time we’re going to see each other.”

“That’s because it probably is. I have spent the last two weeks trying to come up with a reason to stay with you and…it shouldn’t be that hard. I love you; I know that much. I miss the way things were between us. But baby, there is a disconnection between us and it happened when we were in your truck that day and you told me, ‘fuck you.’ For those words to even leave your mouth the way they did was enough for me to know you lost whatever amount of respect you had left for me. It was that lack of respect that told you it was okay to punch me in my mouth.”

“But Corey…”

“No.” I tried to fight back my tears but once again, the tears won. They streamed down my face as I stared into his eyes and told him, “I would rather be alone than give you another chance. You’re simply not worth it. And I’m not saying that to break you, I’m saying it because it’s the truth and I’ve always kept it real with you. I left my family to move out here and start this life with you. That was your chance, Jamal! That was the opportunity I gave you! It was the only one I was ever willing to give you.”

“What about our platform? Huh? What about the young black gay men who look up to us? We work for foundations that raise money for all kinds of causes. This relationship is bigger than just us, Corey.”

“We’ve been lying to all of our fans and everyone else for a while now. We pretend to be happy for social media and I can’t even remember the last time I actually laughed with you or did a damn prank video that was real and not staged! It’s time for some honesty.”

“And what about our future? We were supposed to get married and you were gonna change your name to Corey McMillan-Grant and…”

“It’s over, Jamal. It’s really over. I think it’s good that you’re going to talk to a counselor and I wish you well, but I love and respect myself too much to be someone’s mental and physical punching bag. It doesn’t matter that you believe you’ll never do it again. The only way to make sure it never happens again is for me to leave you and that’s what I’m doing.”

I was still very angry with him but I felt his pain so I didn’t want to make it worse for him. I gave him a hug and I kissed his cheek and that was what broke him. I honestly did it to comfort him before I left but he took it another way and he cried harder than I’d ever seen him cry before. He went upstairs to the bedroom we used to share and I could still hear him crying as I made sure all of my belongings had been moved from the living room to the moving truck. I actually felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders as I rode away from the building in Nick’s car.

That night, I posted videos on each account we used to let our followers know that JCGrantENT was over and that I was sorry for not being able to provide a positive example for those who looked to us for guidance, comfort and even a safe place to share their thoughts and stories. I thanked them for their support and I was very careful not to go into detail about what happened because I did not want to hurt any future business opportunities for Jamal. After saying everything I needed to say, I called it a night and climbed into bed in Nick and Darnell’s guest room.

I was just about to drift off to sleep when my phone vibrated. I unlocked it to see it was because I’d gotten a notification from Instagram. One of my closest friends from home had posted a pic of me and Jamal from our senior prom night and had tagged me in it. I laughed a little to myself as I said quietly, “End of an era.”

[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.

#D.A. Morrison #short story #drama #love #YouTube #social media #social media famous #mistakes #arguments #fights #violence #domestic violence #break-up #breakup #walking away #black lgbt #lgbt fiction #fiction #tw

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

Text

Wrapped Up in Anticipation

Summary: Violet opens her dorm door to find an excited Louis with presents to wrap.

Word Count: 2048

Read on A03:

A knock at Violet’s dorm room door had her quirking an eyebrow. Therissa wouldn’t be back until the wee hours of the morning since she’d gone to pull an all-nighter with a classmate. Who else could be visiting so late at night? Looking through the peephole, Violet rolled her eyes. She opened the door to find Louis there, wearing a Santa hat and smiling at her with his arms full of Christmas wrapping paper and a huge bag slung over his shoulder.

“Lou, what are you doing here? We said we’d meet up tomorrow to wrap gifts,”

“I know, I know, but I was picking up supplies and I found something and I just got so excited I had to bring it over tonight and figured why not go the whole nine yards?” Louis smiled brightly at his best friend before looking down meaningfully by his feet.

Violet’s gaze followed Louis’ down to the ground. A small gasp escaped her lips. There at Louis’ feet was a tiny live Christmas tree, no higher than his knee.

“Isn’t it amazing! I spotted it being sold in the parking lot with all the big Christmas trees and figured it’d be the perfect tree for you. You can have a real live tree this year!”

Violet would never admit it, but a lump welled up in her throat at the gift. Growing up in a trailer, she hadn’t come from a family with the funds to afford a real live tree let alone a full size artificial one. Truth be told, as she got older her parents had stopped putting up any sort of tree at all, not even the dusty old miniature one they used to place on the table. Her mom had been busy working multiple jobs and no longer had energy to decorate and her father was too focused on chasing the next bottle of whiskey to care. Violet used to have her grandma’s decorations and artificial tree to find solace in, but it had been almost a decade now since she’d been alive.

“Vi? Are you OK?” Louis’ voice carried concern with it.

Shit. Her emotion must be showing through after all. She didn’t want to talk about any of that stuff. It wasn’t like Louis knew and she wanted to keep it that way. That part of her life was in the past now. She was living independently, and she’d never be going back. Swallowing the lump, Violet cleared her throat and bent over to pick up the tree. “It’s cool. Let’s bring it inside quick. I think my RA said live trees aren’t allowed within the dorms,”

“Ooh, breaking the rules!” Louis whispered happily with a playful waggle of his eyebrows. Slipping inside Violet’s room, he closed the door behind him with a soft click. Walking forward, Louis dumped all the wrapping supplies in the center of the room. He glanced over at Violet who was placing the tree upon her desk. “Oh, we should probably put that in water so it doesn’t dry out. Do you have a bowl or something we could use?”

“I have one,” Violet went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a plain white bowl. “I’ll be right back,” With that she left to fill the bowl in the dorm bathroom. A few minutes later when she returned she found Louis had already spread out all of his gifts upon the floor and was attempting to calculate how much wrapping paper he’d need for the first one.

“You’re using way too much,” Violet noted dryly. Going over to her desk, she stood the tree up within the water bowl. “The wrapping paper’s gonna get all crinkly and shit,”

“It’s ok, I bought plenty. If I do this wrong, I’ll just try again,” Louis’ scissors glided as he cut a huge swath of wrapping paper before looking back over at Violet and the tree. His face fell slightly. “I should have run back inside and bought some ornaments for Lil Stumpy. He looks so bare,”

“You named my tree?” Violet plopped down on the floor, rooting out her own presents from under the bed.

“Poor little guy needed a name. He’s small of stature but big of heart,”

“Excuse you, Lil Stumpy is a lady,”

“Oh! My humblest apologies!” Louis bowed in mock solemnity before continuing with his wrapping. “I’ll be sure to drop by tomorrow with ornaments for the little lady,”

“Y’know, for someone who goes to a different college, you’re over here way too much,”

Louis shrugged. “What can I say? I like it here. You’re here, Marlon’s here, and everybody else around here seems cool too. Like those twins in your statistics class. That gift’s for Sophie, right? You said she’s the one who really likes food,”

Violet paused in her gift wrapping and nodded. “Good memory,” She’d gotten Sophie a DIY mochi ice cream kit. Ever since the twins and Violet had gone on a late-night ice cream run one late night, Sophie had been talking about mochi nonstop. Hopefully Sophie’s homemade mochi would turn out to her satisfaction. Violet glanced over at the box Louis had been trying unsuccessfully to wrap again and again. “That’s the bomb you ordered for Mitch?”

“Glitter bomb,” Louis corrected, recutting his wrapping paper to a smaller size. “I can’t wait to see the look on Mitch’s face when he gets a faceful of glitter! He’ll be getting the stuff out of his hair for weeks!” Louis chortled happily at the thought. “There’s a giftcard to St. John Steakhouse in there too. Hope he looks through the box before throwing it out,”

“You’d better give him a heads up on that after the glitter bomb,” Setting aside her first present, Violet moved onto her second, Minnie’s gift. It was a t-shirt with a heartbeat monitor line in the background while a guitar was in the foreground.

“Oooh, getting Minnie something with a heart on it I see,” Louis teased.

“Shut up,” Violet muttered, turning her face away from her friend. “It’s a heartbeat, not a heart,”

“Riiiight, totally different. Minnie seems nice though. I think if you asked her out she’d say yes,”

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen,”

“Or maybe I should hint to Minnie that she should ask you out,”

“If you do, that, I swear I’ll steal your kneecaps in the middle of the night,”

“Ok, ok, message received! Yeesh!” Louis rolled his eyes as he pulled out a large package from his present bag that was already wrapped in dark blue tissue paper and tied with a silver bow. “Here’s your gift by the way. I wrapped it ahead of time so there’d be no chance of you spoiling your own gift this year,” It was a game they’d developed over the years: Louis hiding his present to Violet somewhere he thought she’d never find it and Violet inevitably sniffing it out.

A smirk crossed Violet’s face. “Oh, I already know what it is,”

“What?! How?”

“You left your laptop open beside me last time you were over here. I just pulled up your Amazon order history and scrolled down,”

“Well, you’re still not allowed to open it till Christmas!” Louis declared with a sullen pout.

“I won’t,” Violet took the present eagerly, lightly squishing it. Louis had outdone himself this year. He’d found a blanket with glow in the dark constellations printed all over both sides. Violet couldn’t wait to cuddle under it come Christmas morning. Pulling out a box from her own pile, Violet unceremoniously plopped one of the ribbons Louis had bought on the top of the packaging and handed it over. “Here’s your gift,”

“Wow, I love what you did with the packaging,” Louis replied drolly. Taking the small box in both hands, he shook it in curiosity.

“Hey, no shaking! You don’t get to guess what it is!”

“Oh, but you get to know what your present is ahead of time? I call shenanigans!”

“Just wait till Christmas, you big baby,” Violet glanced over at the box, hoping the present inside was still safe. She’d bought Louis a thumb piano. It had been a tossup on whether buying it for him would be worth the annoyance of him playing the thing everywhere, but Violet knew the smile on Louis’ face when he opened it would be worth it. Getting back into wrapping mode, she pulled out a thin black box that contained her next present.

“Is that one for Mitch?”

“Yup,” Violet wrapped it in the goofy reindeer wrapping paper Louis had bought. She knew that one would annoy Mitch the most.

“What is it?”

“A knife,”

“Bet you wanna keep it for yourself,” Louis knew her well. Violet was a sucker for a cool knife.

“Yeah, but there’s no weapons allowed on campus anyway, so,” Violet shrugged, making quick work of wrapping the gift. “Ready to wrap the big one?”

“You betcha!” Louis reached into his bag with glee, pulling out an entire miniature sled. The warm brown wood and painted metal detailing along the edges came together to form a truly charming sight. “You got your part of the gift?”

“Yep,” Violet plopped a red dog harness on top of the miniature sled. “I looked up pit bulls to make sure I got the right size,”

“Awesome. Marlon’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this!” Louis was practically beaming in excitement as he unrolled a huge swath of wrapping paper to begin the process.

Violet had to agree. Ever since Marlon got Rosie at the beginning of this year, the dog was all he ever talked about. Violet couldn’t blame him. Rosie was super cute and pretty much the sweetest dog she’d ever met. When she and Louis had been brainstorming gift ideas for this year, they knew they wanted to get Marlon something that would also be a gift for Rosie. Now he would be able to sit on his own miniature sled and have Rosie pull him around across the snow to her heart’s content. They were both gonna love it.

It was quite a tricky process getting such a large and unusually shaped present wrapped. In the end after several layers of wrapping paper and some truly haphazard usage of tape, they had a large, lumpy package to show for their labors. Both friends looked at it with pride.

“It’s perfect,” Louis stated, wiping a mock tear from his eye.

“That’s some fucking good wrapping if I do say so myself,” Violet smiled proudly at the mysterious blob. That was when her eyes caught the time. “Shit, it’s almost one? I have an 8 AM class tomorrow. You gotta go,”

“Awww, so soon?” Louis batted his lashes at Violet, giving his best sad puppy impression even though they both knew that was pointless.

“Yep. Scram. And take your shit with you,” Violet helped Louis pack all the wrapping paper and supplies as well as his gifts before escorting him to the door.

“Christmas hug?” Louis asked, turning around one last time.

“Fine, Christmas hug,”

“Yay!” Louis wrapped his arms round Violet happily, chuckling as he did so. “Ho ho ho!”

“…What the fuck was that?”

“A Santa laugh. Now it’s a genuine Christmas hug,”

“Whatever,” Violet mumbled though she knew Louis caught the small smile upon her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow to drop off the ornaments for Lil Stumpy then?”

“Sure. I’m done with classes at 2,”

“Then I shall see you then. Till next time!” With a happy wave Louis was gone, sneaking quietly down the hall as it was far past visiting hours.

Violet shook her head good naturedly before closing the door. What a goof. It was sweet how excited he got around Christmas though. And the early gift he had dropped off… Violet looked over at the tiny Christmas tree, her eyes misting up a bit at the sight. That was truly special. Walking over to her desk, Violet brushed her hands along the delicate pine needles tenderly. It was her first Christmas on her own and already it was better than any she’d had in a long, long time. “Merry Christmas, Violet,” she whispered softly to herself. A bit of Christmas magic had found its way to her after all.

#twdg #fanfic #twdg christmas #ericsonclanchristmaschallenge #twdg violet #twdg louis #louis violet brotp #ericson's diner au

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seanfalco · 5 years ago

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Road Trip: Punk!AU

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Valdo x Punk!Aevryn (oc), Punk!Geralt x Punk! Yennefer, Punk!Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 2963 Rating: T Taglist: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats, @nevadawolfe, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @coffee-and-stories a/n: This installment is really oc heavy sorryyyy. Also I’m really terrible at writing lyrics, so please forgive my shitty attempt lol. The next part will be supplied by @ficsandcatsandficsandcats :3

{Part I}{Part II}{Part III}{Part IV}

Part V - If You Need Anyone

Chicago had been fun.

After her talk with Win, Aevryn felt like a weight had been lifted from her lungs. She still wasn’t talking with Yennefer, which stung, and Valdo’s request for her to listen to his new album hung over her head, twisting her stomach anxiously, but at least one thing was okay.

I release you.

She’d finished out the rest of the city with a genuine smile on her face, glad that Jaskier had begged for them to stop and have some fun, forgetting her worries for at least a few hours.

Back in Roach Aev sat in the backseat as the others piled in for the night, exhausted, putting her earbuds in as Win’s comforting presence settled next to her. Leaning against the darkened van window she watched the dark lake shore fly by with the blur of headlights, the city skyline shrinking in the distance, an empty ache settling in her chest. Valdo’s album was set to drop soon and she didn’t know if she was ready.

True she’d put on one of his songs the other morning as she’d drove, just to hear his voice, but it had been one she’d heard many times before. This new album was uncharted territory and she worried it might dredge up more emotions she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face yet; there was still so much to unpack there, things long buried.

Unlocking her phone she opened up her twitter messages, reading them over again when a new message alert popped up.

@valdomarxofficial: Hey, happy birthday, beautiful. Am I the first to wish you that? I hope so.

Shit, she swore, eyes flicking up to the top bar of her phone that displayed the time, to see that it was indeed a couple minutes after midnight, July 31st. Her birthday.

Groaning at the thought of what embarrassing things her bandmates’ were going to attempt to do to celebrate, a slight giddiness filled her chest that Valdo had been the first to remember.

@aeverona: You are, actually. I’m impressed you remembered.

@valdomarxofficial: You wound me, love. How could I forget something so important? Are you doing anything special to celebrate?

Shaking her head fondly, Aevryn scooted down further in her seat, chewing her lip, fighting back a smile as her fingers flew over the onscreen keyboard.

@aeverona: you prick, there are a lot of important things you’ve forgotten over the years... but i’m glad you messaged me. No, we’re just driving right now, everyone’s asleep.

@valdomarxofficial: a shame, you should be the center of attention at a decadent party thrown in your honour. Perhaps i’ll have to rectify that. Well, if you have nothing better to do, consider this your birthday gift from me. x

Attached was a download link from his bandcamp and Aev sighed at the sight. He really wanted her to listen, didn’t he?

@aeverona: a bit self absorbed, are we? lol okay, i give in i’ll listen to it

Taking a deep breath she clicked the link to the download. While she waited she turned back to the window, pressing her cheek to the cool glass. She could hear Yennefer’s voice in her head, as if her friend could read her thoughts even now. Don’t. How many times are you going to let him hurt you?

She closed her eyes.

—

Yennefer pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as she shifted in the passenger seat, trying to find a comfortable spot while avoiding glancing at Geralt behind the wheel. The soft music he had turned on had effectively lulled the rest of the van to sleep, but her thoughts swirled, keeping her awake.

She could sense Geralt’s eyes flicking to her every so often and sighed, sitting up in the seat, unable to will herself to sleep anyway. Her change in posture signified that she wanted to talk, but an awkward silence fell over them while Geralt merely waited.

“So… what did you and Jaskier do today when we split up?” she asked without looking at him.

Geralt glanced at her, a ghost of a smile tracing his lips for a moment.

“We climbed a rock wall.”

Yennefer jerked in surprise, her dark eyes peering back at Jaskier, snoring softly. “But he hates heights.”

“I know,” Geralt replied with a soft snort, wanting to say more, though the words died on his tongue. Silence fell once more.

Several miles passed.

“What about you and [Y/N]?”

Yennefer shrugged. “We rode the carousel and talked.”

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Yennefer answered simply. “I got to ride a dragon.”

Geralt snorted in amusement. “Very you.”

Yen’s answering laugh lifted his spirits, buoying him even as silence fell once more. At least she was talking to him again.

—

Aevryn startled awake as the van slowed, turning off the highway into a brightly lit truck stop. Geralt threw Roach into park and got out. The others stirred slightly, but no one woke. Aev looked down at her phone. Fuck, she thought angrily, Valdo’s album list staring her in the face. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. It had only been an hour and a half, but now that she was awake and filled with nervous energy she didn’t think she could just sit there.

Carefully extricating herself from the depths of the van she slipped out the sliding door, following Geralt into the rest stop. The usually stoic drummer gave a start when he turned from the cooler, drink in hand, to find her standing right behind him.

“Jesus Aev,” he growled, frowning, stepping around her to go pay.

“Can I drive for a bit, Gery?” Aevryn asked, quickly grabbing another Red Bull from the cooler before jogging to catch up to him, flashing him a smarmy smile as he grabbed a box of Little Debbie snack cakes.

“Don’t call me that,” Geralt grunted, setting his purchases on the counter. After a moment he grabbed the giant can out of her hand to set with his stuff before handing the cashier a worn twenty.

“Please?” Aevryn asked. “If I don’t keep my hands busy I’ll go crazy. And I need to keep my mind off some… stuff.”

“Hmm.”

The cashier handed him his change and Geralt handed Aev her drink.

“You’re not tired?” he asked, giving her a pointed look, his light hazel eyes studying her sharply, knowingly.

“No.”

“Hmm.” After a moment Geralt nodded and shoved the box of cakes at her. “Here. This is for you.”

Aevryn ducked her head to hide her grin as she followed Geralt back to the van, noticing the cakes were mini birthday cakes.

Taking the driver’s seat Aevryn buckled in and stuck her headphones in her ears, not wanting to face a repeat of the other morning as she listened to Valdo’s new music. If Jaskier happened to wake up and heard it he would flip his shit, and on top of everything else going on, that was the last thing Aev wanted to deal with. She still didn’t know how she was going to break it to him that she was on speaking terms with her ex again, amongst other things.

Taking a swig of her energy drink and stuffing one of the snack cakes in her mouth she turned on the first song as she pulled back onto the highway.

This album is a letter, one I should have written long ago.

Valdo’s low voice in her ear sent an involuntary shiver down her spine and her breath caught at his words, fending off the intrusive thought that he was speaking directly to her before the guitar swelled, leading into the next song and Aev nearly barked a surprised laugh at the opening notes -- a cover of one of her favourite songs.

Not usually one to care for covers, she couldn’t help but admit that it was good; Valdo’s voice filling each familiar lyric with new meaning, and again it felt as though he were singing for her and her alone, a private performance that the masses might peer into, but never truly understand. The next song was an original one, but again with an easter egg she felt was strangely meant for her to uncover. Valdo’s haunting vocals were joined by another voice, barking and raspy, and instantly recognizable to Aevryn.

That fucking bastard, she thought, shaking her head in disbelief, though a smile stole across her face like a thief. He’d just had to go and collaborate with her favourite musician -- one so obscure that not even Jaskier knew she listened to. Now he was just showing off.

As she continued to listen, each song had something jump out at her, some lyric that tickled her memory or a reference to some in-joke shared between the two of them as teens, and it was becoming more and more difficult to believe that these were just coincidences. Looking down at her phone she realized she was already on the final song and that’s when it happened.

The opening notes were accompanied by a lonely piano chord and the instant mood change gripped her, holding her hostage as she listened raptly, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. Valdo’s voice trembled with emotion, weaving poetry that would certainly steal anyone’s breath away -- personal and raw, but the words hit her like a train, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open.

Darling, it was always you, since day one, I knew, I was smitten, I admit, but it was more than that. After all, ‘just friends’ don’t look at each other like that. ‘Just friends’ don’t kiss each other like that.

It nearly took this immature fuckup too long to realize, What you meant when you said I needed you. And by then it was almost too late. How was I to know you’d need me too? I never told you, when you lay in that hospital bed, unsure if you’d ever wake, It nearly killed me, it drove me mad. Not caring what might become of me I went to his house and I went to bat, I lashed out in hate. Please don’t tell me it was all for nothing...

Her throat suddenly dry, Aevryn swallowed as the song continued on.

It was her. It was their life.

Had he really done that, she wondered, her breath shallow as a memory she’d fought hard to bury surfaced hazily. When she’d woke in the hospital after telling him why she’d done it, he was lying in the bed with her, his cut lip and bruised knuckles standing out in stark relief now. She’d never really questioned where they came from before.

“Oh my God,” she whispered; her hand covering her mouth as her lip trembled and a single tear fell.

This song was about her, for her. No, not just this song, she realized -- “this album is a letter…”

As Valdo continued to spin their story, the highs and the heartbreaks, his fuck-ups and regrets -- it broke her anew and soon she was wracked with silent sobs, tears flowing freely down her cheeks til she could barely see the road before her.

Forgive me Aev, I never deserved you in the first place, but I want to be the man that does.

In the passenger seat Yennefer stretched, a soft sound catching her attention and she opened her eyes slowly.

“Aev?” she asked softly, noticing her friend in the driver’s seat. Then she noticed she was crying. “Fuck, Aev! What’s wrong?” Yennefer sat up quickly, reaching out to touch Aevryn’s arm.

“That fucking bastard,” she managed to choke out, crying harder and Yennefer quickly glanced in the back to make sure it hadn’t woken anyone else. Her violet eyes swung back to Aevryn and then noticed the wires going to her ears connected to her phone and she snatched it up, her stomach dropping when she saw what her friend was listening to.

“Aevryn, why?” she demanded, disappointment and anguish thick in her voice. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“He asked me to listen to it,” she sobbed. “It was for me. The whole damned thing!”

“Aev, I think you need to pull over,” Yennefer urged, anxiously eyeing the sign for the next turn off.

Aevryn nodded and did as she was asked, barely able to see through her tears. As soon as Roach was stopped, she jumped out, walking swiftly away, though not as if she knew where to. “Aev!” Yennefer called after her, circling the van to chase after her.

At the slam of the van door Geralt sat up abruptly as the others stirred groggily.

“What was that? Why are we stopped?” Jaskier asked, looking around, the feeling that something wasn’t right gripping him, waking him faster. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Geralt answered, worriedly watching Yennefer take off after Aevryn.

—

“Aevryn!” Yennefer finally caught up to her friend and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Talk to me, please,” she begged. She’d never seen Aev look so lost.

Wiping her jacket sleeve across her damp face, Aevryn sniffled, trying to calm her breaths. “I knew you’d tell me not to listen to it, but… but I did. I couldn’t help it. I had to know why he wanted me to hear it so badly. And I know now. It was for me. It was his apology. The whole fucking thing. He even released it on my fucking birthday.”

Yennefer gaped at her, unsure how to respond. If what she said was true… well, it certainly sounded exactly like something Valdo would do; he was nothing if not that extra.

“Just… just listen to the last song,” Aevryn exclaimed, holding out her phone. Wordlessly Yen took it and put the earbuds in her ears.

It felt like an eternity elapsed as Aev waited, Yennefer’s face an unreadable mask as she listened. When it was done Yennefer took a deep breath and pulled the headphones from her ears.

“I must admit he certainly has gone to lengths to get his point across.”

“I still love him, Yen,” Aevryn said softly.

“I know,” Yennefer replied simply, holding her arms out.

With a soft sob Aev surged forward and Yennefer wrapped her arms around her, letting her cry against her chest, her fingers combing through her friend’s messy hair til she was all cried out.

“I want to make it work,” she said thickly through the remnants of her tears. “I want to give him a second chance.”

“I know,” Yennefer murmured soothingly, her heart twisting with hope and fear for her friend. She knew all she could do now was support her in her decision.

“I’m so sorry Yen,” she exclaimed, tears running down her cheeks once more. “I don’t want us to fight anymore. I want you to look after me.”

“I will always look after you. You know that.” Yen’s voice shook as her arms tightened around Aevryn. That was how Geralt found them and Yennefer raised her eyes meeting his silent gaze as she gave Aev one last squeeze before stepping back.

“I need to call him,” Aevryn murmured absently, glancing over her shoulder to throw an imploring look at Geralt before directing it at Yennefer, who knew what she was asking of them wordlessly.

“Don’t worry about the others,” Yennefer said, smoothing Aevryn’s hair with her hands. “We’ll be waiting at the van.”

With a nod Aev watched Yennefer and Geralt head back and she waited for them to pass out of sight before pulling her phone out. Despite the hour she had a feeling that Valdo was waiting for her call and sure enough the phone only rang once before he answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Aev whispered, her voice trembling. “I listened to it.”

“Yeah?” Valdo asked, the hope in his tone unmistakable.

“Yeah. You fucking asshole, you could have warned me,” she exclaimed, though there was no heat in it. “Did you mean it -- everything you said in there? You’re being absolutely serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack, babe.”

“Please don’t joke right now, Valdo.”

“I’m not.” She could hear him breathe, a shaky sound that rattled her own chest. “Can I see you?”

“Yeah. I’d like that,” Aev answered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

—

“Yen, Geralt, what the fuck is going on? Is Aev okay?” Jaskier demanded as his bandmates walked side by side back to Roach. You and Win were both out of the van as well, worry gripping you as Jaskier’s tension bled into you.

“She’s alright,” Yennefer answered as Geralt clapped a hand to Jaskier’s shoulder as he passed.

“But-but what’s going on?” he asked, the helplessness in his voice twisting your heart.

The sigh that left Yennefer’s lungs was heavy with the secrets she couldn’t yet tell him. For it truly wasn’t her place to tell Jaskier, though she also didn’t like keeping him in the dark. Beside Valdo he was Aevryn’s oldest friend.

“She listened to something that made her a little emotional and I didn’t want her to crash the van because she was crying.”

It technically wasn’t a lie.

“What did she--?” Jaskier cut off before finishing his question, his lips twitching into a frown. “Aevryn…” he grumbled, something akin to exasperation creeping into his voice as he closed his eyes.

Just then she walked back to the van, stopping next to Yennefer, looking rather small. “I’m okay now. I’m sorry for worrying everyone,” she said softly, not quite meeting Jaskier’s gaze before climbing back into the van.

“Jask?” you asked, slipping your hand in his as you looked up at him.

He watched his friend, worrying his lip, clear blue eyes cloudy with worry and hurt. “If what I think is happening, I’ll kill him.”

#punk!au #road trip series #punk!jaskier #punk!geralt #punk!yennefer #punk!aevryn #punk!valdo #punk!jaskier x reader #punk!geralt x punk!yennefer #punk!valdo x oc #valdryn

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voidselfshipp · 5 years ago

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Lonely toucan.

Tommy had recently let me in his small community, I had my own little house to live in, well me , and my dog missy, a Manchester terrier.

And then I met his brother , Joel, he uh.

He was fucking cute, thats what he was.

So, y'know like, those love at first sight bullcrap?, yeah, not so much bullshit now, he and his daughter Ellie,were quite the pair, the kid got on joels nerves playfully, it kind of reminded me of me and my siblings, who were on their way here.

One day however, we needed supplies, ammo, scrap for bombs and traps, there were Many searching parties, one of them was Joel, ellie and me.

My feet drag on the ground, missy was leading the way, long and tall buildings touched the blue Sky,birds Chirped and the place was clear from infected.

-So jerico is it?- ellie asks, wanting to start a conversation- whats your story?-

-Well, im from Argentina, came here before the infection with my siblings , for opportunities, And well, then hell breaks loose and we managed to survive, I at least, left my parents behind , there wasnt much for me back there -

-oh...-the kid says-and your parents?do you know what happened to them?-

-Well, they Passed away after a couple of months after I moved here, so now they are in a better place...i wanna think at least-

And meanwhile Joel was silent , serious expression barely making any sound.

Missy halts and barks, there is a store a couple of meters away, I signal her to come here with me and i scoop her up,just in case we need to bail out.

The shop had a couple of ammo boxes and such, but mostly barren.

-How did you get missy?- Ellie inquires again while searching in a box.

-She was a rescue, after a couple of months of wandering I found her alone on a pet shop, I was astonished when I found her alive, weak but alive, me and my siblings nursed her back to health, and now she is here with me, my loyal companion -

-She is a cute one, isnt she Joel- I kneel down for Ellie to pet her, my dog barks and jumps out off my arms into Joel, licking his face and barking happily when he pets her.

-She likes you-I say,grabbing missy by her leash-come on girl, down, down- the terrier backs off and sits-I saw a room with a shit load of stuff, but equally filled with spores I have no mask-

-We'll go-Joel says, god his voice.

-Oh look!, he talks- I say, sitting with missy, he snorts and shakes his head,I catch a glimpse of a smirk - ill stay here and scan the place, If something comes ill knock on the door-They enter the room, and I just wait, petting missy-you liked Him, dontcha chica?-(girl) she barks and snuggles closer- that makes two of Us.

Meanwhile, Joel and Ellie wander trough the room.

-i saw you smirk, you never smirk with people you just met,whats up with that?-the kid asks.

-Whats up with that?, she has charm,you have to laugh at her comment, shes funny-the Man tries to dismiss the question, but there was truth in there , she was charismatic, and funny, clever even.

-And now you compliment her?, dude ,you totally have a crush on her-

-c'mon Ellie we just met-

-love at first sight is a thing-

Joel groans and both Get out of there , there was a couple of useful things, they all re Group and show what they found.

As they make their way out something stops them, missy grunts, a horde of infected are closing in, too Many to face.

So they run,jeri scoops her dog up and bolts as fast as she can, they enter a departament complex, they barricade Everything they can and sit,waiting.

Vía radio , Joel tells Tom what happened,reinforcements Will come in a bit.

Missy lays down with Joel who is catching his breath.

Jerico finds an ukelele, she hesitates but tunes it as silent as she possibly can, still, they were really far up, and the walls were thick.

-Whats that?- ellie asks.

-A ukelele, Like a mini guitar-she is done tuning it - I wrote a song, its crappy, but y'know , Something to kill the time, also to be noted, I am a hopeless romantic-

-You wrote a song with that thing?-ellie asks, pointing at the ukelele.

-Yeah-jerico nodds

-can I hear it?,please?pleaaase?- the kid pleads

Jeri quickly eyes Joel, who Is sleeping .

-Fine, but not too loud, your oldman is sleeping-

-he is not my dad-

-yeah whatever-both chuckle and jeri starts to play-Oh trough this still waters I flew, my feet barely hitting the surface.

Then I saw you, standing there, I loved every bit of it, oh , to be your River, to flow undisturbed, loving you all the way trough.

But im just a lonely toucan,a silent night owl, that longs to be something else with you.

Oh to be your River, and flow undisturbed, I love you with every ounce of my being, oh to be your River...-

-Thats...too cheesy, you werent kidding about being a hopeless romantic-jerico rolls her eyes- who is it about anyway?- ellie asks, then the older woman looks over to Joel-oh shit , well, I am going to take some fresh air, god, you are too cheesy-

Jeri chuckles and nodds.

She keeps playing unaware of Joel listening to her

--Oh to be your River,flowing trough the storms, with every ounce of my being, my heart sings along.

And even if youre rough, ill Keep flying along, to get to the waterfall.

Oh to be your River, and happily flowing along.

Oh to be your River, and flow with your love-

She is talking about him, he is the only person inside the room that she could have pointed at.

His heart flutters warmly.

Damn this crush of his.

Why does she gotta be so perfect?.

He shifts and she stops playing, then he feels soft fabric cover him, it smelt like leather, did she covered him with her jacket?.

Missy lays her body on Joel and snuggles closer.

He smiles.

-I Knew you were awake!- jerico says-Open your eyes, youre not fooling anyone-

Joel chuckles and looks at her.

-You got me- he doesnt move tho, petting missy's Head-she is really beautiful, Like you-

Jeri's cheeks burn red and looks away.

-Uh t thank you-

They Keep a comfortable silence until missy stands up and sits on the womans lap,demanding attention.

-What did you use to work,before all of this?- Joel drapes jericos jacket on her back again, she smiles at the gesture and signals him to sit close to her.

-i used to work as an animator for a company,my dreamjob really-

-what a shame, I bet you would have exceed at it -

-Heh,i Like to think the same-

Her head falls on joels shoulder, she yawns.

-didnt sleep enough last night?- the Man asks as his arm sneaks his way around her neck she snuggles closer.

-My sleep schedule is fucked-

Joel catches a glimpse of Ellie spying on them Gently peeking over a door, he waves her off and she smirks.

-sleep, you Will need it-

-But what if--

-Sleep now ,ill protect you-

Jerico nodds blushing and snuggles closer to Joel.

Eventually reinforcements arrive.

Back at toms safehouse, jeri is preparing to sleep , snuggling into her covers, herself brought them all the way here, they had the faint smell of vainilla.

A sudden movement made her jump, its Joel.

-You dumbass you scared the living crap out of me!-

Joel chuckles and hands her the ukelele.

-you lost this-

-oh thanks-she says calming down- god im so tired, but I cant sleep-

-want me to lay down with you?-

-Dude , I dont want to bother or seem like a child-she sighs- i just feel unsafe alone..-

The mans face contorns with empathy and kicks off his shoes.

-Make space, c'mon-

Jerico wasnt going to Argue, she lays down,leaving space for Joel to lay down,his arms hug her waist with her back against his chest.

He was warm, they snuggle under the covers , And missy lays down on the edge of the bed where their feet are.

- y'know-jeri says- when I was a teen, I tought that love was bull crap, a few lucky ones could enjoy it, and I was heartbroken,and I just carried this with me, just loneliness, then I saw you and god, I was just smitten-she sighs and turns her head to him-what im saying is....I have a crush on you....-

Joel is taken back but he snuggles closer, whispering a me too into her ear before kissing her, she kisses back and a trail of kisses goes down her neck.

She turns her head back again and smiles.

He hides his face on the crook of her neck and sighs in content.

They both can take a bit of time off, Togheter,just them, nothing else exists.

A sweet and soft 'I love you'loosens from the Mans lips before they crash into a well deserved And very needed slumber.

Even the apocalypse had good things.

[Fin]

#joel miller #f/o community #f/o #romantic f/o #f/o x s/i #f/o tag #s/i community #s/i x canon #s/i #fictional boyfriend #fictional other #fictional love #f/o fic #tlou joel

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letstalksymphogear · 6 years ago

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Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

youtube

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #anime #recap #comedy

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jlf23tumble · 6 years ago

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1D Day, Hour One

God only knows what this hellscape will look like on December 18, so if I’m gonna recap each hour of 1D Day, I might as well do it now, eh?? 1D Day is a gift that none of us really deserved, and yeah, it has a ton of shitty moments, but much like X Factor itself, the true gem is Louis Tomlinson and how much he runs this entire show (and lbr, the band itself), Jesus, god, do I love him.

Anyway, 1D Day aired 7 hours of live content on November 23, 2013 to promote Midnight Memories, and yes, yes, we’ve all seen the gifsets, but like anything else with this band, it’s tremendously better in context. I watched this whole thing a couple of years ago, when I first got into this fandom, but I didn’t know all of the dynamics then, so it’s extra fascinating to me now. We’ve all binged worse shit than this that took way longer, and I promise you won’t regret an hour a night for a week--but if you’d rather read my hot take, here you go, under the cut! Note: these are really shitty screengrabs, and for that, I am truly sorry.

A horrible announcer introduces the D by saying they weigh in at a collective 792 pounds, and all I can wonder is does this mean they have daily weigh-ins, why is it that specific? This focus on their weight is just gross to me. C’mon, writers, you’re better than this (j/k, you aren’t).

The three-foot bubble between Louis and Harry is established pretty early on, with Harry doing the prettiest sitting in all the land before bolting to his feet immediately because Louis happened to walk by his couch. A very real question: Was this bubble a requirement that Ben Winston constantly whispers into their headpieces, or did sbb decide, hey, let’s make it obvious that we have to CONSTANTLY adjust where we stand, even if it’s two feet away because that’s not enough room for Jesus?

There are some truly hilarious guest “stars” to announce, the first being the giant video head of David Beckham, which pops up and immediately starts speaking, so we're already off to the races with a) fuckups and b) Louis’s annoyance at said fuckups.

Liam takes a good hard look at his future:

Harry isn’t allowed to gaze at Becks, he’s off by the listening booth, which is a giant red call box because they’re Briddish, pip pip, cheerio. Unrelated, but I low-key feel like Harry's coked up or else really taking the piss with all his “LIVE BANDDDDDDD,” JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!,” etc., not to mention how fast he’s speaking, the way he grinds on the guitarist’s lap while Louis fonds at the sky, and all the yelling with arms aloft.

The best part of the rundown of the guest “stars” (or breast stars, if you’re Niall) is that we’re only in the first 10 minutes, so everyone’s giving it a go, but then we get to Mr. Simon Cowell, and Niall claps five times to stony silence (me as Harry constantly staring at Louis from three feet away):

Piers Morgan comes out to describe the “grilling” he’s going to give them later, all angry—genuinely angry—that they’re trending on twitter because they keep saying that he smells. And they don’t stop, even here, they keep yelling, “What’s that smell? You stink, etc.,” and he’s such a dick that I want to bottle this moment and spritz it around my house daily.

This mild trash talking continues, with Piers promising “tears from Piers,” but Slytherin Niall pulls the fingernail out of his mouth, smiles that sneaky smile, and says, “Yeah, but this isn’t Piers Morgan Day, is it, this is 1D Day,” and I want a transcript because there’s so much talking, but all of it trashes Piers, and god, I love my sons.

Anyway, they keep winding Piers up (Piers: “I’m going to find out what you’re most embarrassed about,” Liam: “The way you smell,” Piers, genuinely in a rage: “Don’t say that”), and he keeps talking about how he’s interviewed heads of state, etc., the implication being that this is below him, but Niall counters that Oprah and Barbara Walters have, too, and they would have much preferred Oprah, to the point where Piers admits they couldn’t afford Oprah (lmaooooooo).

We move on to Harry, spinning a twitter wheel that means they’ll follow whoever it lands on, which seems like a cute idea. I’m guessing it’s the official twitter handle?? I don’t know or actually care!

Louis can’t read the teleprompter, and he mutters later that it’s because it makes no sense rather than being too hard to actually see, but me as Niall, already yawning at the 25-minute mark (the bubble is preserved, though, whew):

I’m guessing Scott Mills is the “host” of this show because he comes out with a stick (??) and an agenda (Scott’s no Dermot…he has a face for radio, as they used to say back in the day). This whole section just features a lot of Harry and his pinned sleeves staring at Louis, and honestly relatable:

The next task is toilet paper roll stacking, with two judges from the Guinness Book of World Records on hand to see if this band of hyenas can beat the current world record and stack 28 (!!!!) rolls in 30 seconds. Two reasons to love Louis: he interrupts this idiocy to ask, “How did you two get into this, is this a full-time job you do every day?” (I was wondering the exact same thing), and this is his face for this challenge:

Sadly, they fail, and Harry’s the one who has to tell the judges, “Well, sorry for wasting your time!” with a cheery wave from the ladder. Uh oh, though, the bubble, we’re at two feet:

Much better!

This is still too close for Ben Winston’s comfort, so we split up the teams in what feels like a college course with a lot of money to run fake broadcasting drills. Zouis gets to report from the field, with some tweet rapping; the weather guy, sports guy, and lead broadcaster experience some technical difficulties, prompting Harry’s infamous, “SOMETHING’S GONE WRONG,” and we’re off to Poland:

For a production company that seems hell bent on “no homo,” there are lots of things that raise my brows, like this big “handsome” (Harry’s words) he-man who’s going to pull a “boohs” full of 1D fans over a line, so the boys have to guess how long it’s going to take him…by writing all over his mostly nude body (I’m the eye contact that Harry and Louis maintain during this):

Dude pulls the boohs successfully, so yay! Next up is Wrong Direction, the world’s worst lookalikes (HONESTLY, I’m embarrassed for everyone in this segment on Hollywood Blvd: the idiots who are “fooled” by this, the guys themselves and the low-key insult of it all, myself because this went on for way too long):

I’ll spare everyone the individual matchups because yike, but the real Wrong Direction comes to the studio, with all the guys dressed up like their matches, and the real D is polite, albeit mildly “wtf are we supposed to do about this” (me, too, Zayn). Points to Harry for at least trying to strike up some conversation: “Did you have foon, acting like us?” We’re supposed to vote for the best one on Google+ (lolololololol).

Scott takes two girls who look like they’re legit about to pass out into the red call box so they can be the first people to listen to the new album. While they listen to something none of us can hear, we get some VT (that’s “videotape,” god, I hate the whole lingo lesson we got earlier) of Spain and some fans, all of which feels like lengthy filler. I feel for the people Scott mentions as being asleep during this because there is a LOT of fill. Maybe make this shit shorter, just a suggestion!

Next up is Jamie Scott from his home somewhere in the middle of the night; he wrote most of Midnight Memories along with Louis and Liam, and he gives them an 8.5 in terms of how they did on a scale of 1-10 (and that’s AFTER Louis insults his pillows with the alphabet on them, “In case you forget”). There’s a lot of Lilo hand-shaking in celebration, and some enthusiastic clapping from Harry (a little too enthusiastic…I’m gonna imagine that someone tells him to tone it down in his earpiece because he looks around quite a bit):

A few things happen that don’t really interest me: the first listen of “Through the Dark” (this is skipped in the vid), a remote report from Radio Disney (Harry: “HOLLYWOODDDDDD!”) and a fan who wins the chance to come visit them later in the day, and then we’re back to Scott, who looks exhausted, and it’s only been 40 minutes.

All is not lost, because the next VT is the totally unnecessary yet extremely vital coverage of the D’s exercise regime. I’ve seen so many gifsets of hottttt and sweaty Lirry, but you haven’t lived until you’ve heard Niall’s American accent while he stretches: “Welcome to my workout dvd! I’ll be with you for the next 45 minutes to give you the lowdown of how I stay in shape.” PLEASE @ NIALL, DO THIS.

I really WANT to be Harry and effortlessly pump out pushups, but in reality I’m Zouis, popping some robot dance moves and drinking Red Bull. The weird shorthand throughout this is that Liam is an animal (Ziam + a whip = fire), Harry’s into flirty sexercise, Niall wants an arse like Kim K’s, Zayn’s a slender boxer, and Louis…just fucks around? Missed opp for footie Louis.

The first performance is “Story of My Life,” and we’ve all seen it before, but godDAMN, Zayn sings like an angel. Lots of technical problems in the audio, prompting quite a few Louis/Harry hand gestures, but still, in spite of it all, they sound amazing individually and together.

Even local asshole Piers Morgan is impressed, as he comes out to tell them that they were surprisingly good, along with a bunch of other neg bullshit. This is another one of those segments that it pays to watch the whole clip of, and Jesus, do I want a transcript. They head over to the couches, and Piers points at Louis and says, “You have the most reason to be nervous,” but Louis’s like, “Yeah, but I’m not,” and wow, #goals.

Everyone gets a couch, and the upshot is that Piers is a terrible egoist who thinks he’s a fantastic interviewer, but he really isn’t…all the questions are shit, and these five eat him alive. Everything he asks falls flat, and it’s so masterfully, subversively handled, from Louis’s iconic “define girlfriends” (and the underappreciated attempt by Harry to define it for Piers later: “Like in primary school, if you hold hands with a girl and you're eight, is that a girlfriend?”) to the obsession with smells (Piers asking Niall, “Why do you always smell,” claiming it’s a fan’s question, and Niall answering that it’s because he had colic as a child, so can only fart; Piers asking Zayn, “Who stinks the worst,” and Zayn saying that they all smell quite good, actually) to Piers demanding to see Zayn’s tattoo and relentlessly attacking him for it being a gun (Louis keeps interjecting that it’s a watergun, but go off I guess, paraphrasing).

But the best is always Louis. “What’s the weirdest thing a girl has done to impress you?” “Tweeted Piers Morgan.” Later, he says pointblank to Piers, “You do stink.” But then…but THEN, it’s the Four interview 1.0, only instead of Ben trying to get Louis to deny gay rumors, it’s Piers, who does it twice: “What’s the one rumor you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself?” Louis’s answer: “That I’m not good at football.” “Are you good?” “No….I just wouldn’t want it confirmed.” Piers tries AGAIN: “What’s the worst thing you’ve had to read about yourself?” but Louis turns it around and says he hates reading about one of the other boys being dead (!).

Because he’s the worst, Piers takes it to the ladies and asks how many girlfriends they’ve had and how many times they’ve kissed a girl. Harry says he’s kissed 8 ladies (which prompts a good scoff out of Zayn), and everyone else says 5 or 6, 3 or 4, etc., with Louis declaring he’s only had one proper relationship (no genders mentioned), so maybe 2 (lmaooooo). Piers gets all excited that he’s kissed more girls than this hot boyband has, and I wanna say, you’re almost there, “friend”…keep working it through.

There’s more antics w/r/t Piers, like his poor 2YO daughter crying, and him trying to blame it on Harry Styles not answering her dad’s sex questions or stupid questions about embarrassing things they’ve caught the others doing, and yeah, I don’t think they’ll get into the big ot5 gang bang on live TV, but ask anyway, I guess?

The last person to suffer sitting next to Piers is Liam, and I love him always, but especially for saying, “How’s it going there, stinky?” when Piers takes a seat to ask him why he’s so sexy. Piers tries to “joke” that the sexy question is for him, but nobody says anything, and then he asks Liam AGAIN before admitting that it’s a shitty question, so then he asks about them all wearing tight jeans, and godddddd, why does anyone let him interview anyone??

The good news is that Piers can tell he lost, so as he tells them that he thinks they’re pretty okay, actually, but, “You’ve gotta stop calling me stinky,” and you know they never will.

Scott says it might feel like much longer, but it’s only been an hour, and Zayn’s lookalike won, so we can all rest easy. This hour closes with a review of the highlights, and it’s ham-fisted and awful. Shocking!!!!

I can’t do one of these every single day, but I’ll do hour two sometime soon! Hope you enjoyed this, @justlarried, lol!

#recap #1d day #hour one #it really did feel like a full day

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 6 years ago

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Eleven → in which Klaus finds an Ersatz Elevator

“It’s not fair!” Klaus said, punching a pillow. “Olaf is right here, and once again, nobody believes us!”

“And it’s not just that.” Nick said, leaning off the top bunk as he glanced down at his siblings, and Solitude held Babbitt up to say hello to him. “It’s not just that nobody believes us. It’s that the Quagmires’ lives are at stake.”

“I just keep thinking of all the horrible things he could do to them.” Lilac said.

“Well, don’t do that.” Violet said. “We need to figure out his plan. Maybe he’s planning to auction us off?”

“It’s illegal to auction off children.” Klaus said.

“Squ?” Sunny asked, meaning, “Do you think the Squalors are working for him?”

“No.” Violet shook her head. “There’d be no reason for them to play along with him, they could just leave us with him.”

“How did he leave without the doorman seeing him?” Nick asked.

“Maybe the doorman fell asleep and was embarrassed to say.” Violet said.

“Maybe he left right before we arrived, and took the elevator.” Nick said. “That way we wouldn’t see him.”

“Out.” Solitude shook her head.

“Just because it’s out doesn’t mean it’s out of order.” Nick said. “He could’ve used it anyway.”

“Esme wouldn’t have let him.” Lilac sighed, rolling up her sleeves.

“And we can’t turn him into the police until we find the Quagmires.” Nick said sadly.

“Maybe he was bluffing.” Violet said.

“If he was bluffing, that means the Quagmires…” Klaus trailed off, looking ready to cry. “If he did anything to Duncan- or- or Isadora…”

“We can kill him after we find the Quagmires.” Nick said.

“Killing’s still illegal, Nick.” Klaus said, grabbing the pillow and hugging it to himself.

“I think we should have a pass by now.” Nick said.

“Maybe he hid them in the penthouse.” Violet said. “It’s certainly big enough that they could be here and we’d have no idea. And Olaf’s living here, too, and that’s why we never saw him leave.”

“We’ve been here for a week.” Lilac said. “Surely we’d’ve run into something.”

“Nobody asked you!” Violet snapped.

“I’m not going to let us chase red herrings!” Lilac shouted back, hurt.

“Oh, go tell us not to swear or some shit!”

“Stop fighting!” Solitude shouted, standing up and holding out her arms. “No fighting! ‘S what Olaf wants!”

Everyone fell silent. Then, Nick said, “Solitude’s right. If we fight, we can’t solve this problem.”

“Let’s…” Violet sighed, sitting beside Klaus and grabbing her ribbon to tie her hair back. “Let’s go over what we know. Olaf had to have gotten out of the penthouse, but he didn’t take the stairs. So he must’ve taken the elevator.”

“But he couldn’t have, not without pissing off Esme.” Klaus said.

“Unless she didn’t see him?” Violet said. “Maybe she stayed in the penthouse.”

“Wouldn’t she want to see him out?” Nick said.

“She’s not that polite.” Violet shrugged.

“It’s getting late.” Lilac said quietly, glancing at the clock. “Maybe we should get some sleep and figure it out in the morning.”

“How can we sleep when the Quagmires are in danger and Olaf is nearby?” Nick asked.

“We’ll do our best.” Lilac said. “We all know what happens if we try to defeat Olaf without sleep.”

They all fell silent, and then they nodded.

The next morning, however, to everyone’s surprise, they actually did figure things out very fast.

When they awoke the next morning, Jerome quickly told them that Esme told him that aqueous martinis were out and parsley soda was in, so he had to go into town and buy lots of parsley soda while Esme had brunch with the King of Arizona. As soon as he left, Violet said, “Well, now we have time to think about how Olaf got out of the house.”

“Maybe he climbed out the window.” Nick said glumly.

“He doesn’t seem the type.” Lilac shook her head.

“I still think he took the elevator.” Violet said.

“He can’t have-” Lilac began.

At that, Klaus sat up, suddenly thinking of something. “The elevator.” he said.

“What?” Nick slid off the top bunk.

“The elevator!” Klaus said. “Oh my gosh, guys, we’ve been so stupid!”

“Well, yeah, always, but why?” Nick said.

“Come with me.” Klaus said, and he leapt off the bed. “I think I know how Olaf got out… and possibly, I may have figured out a way to find the Quagmires.”

“Look,” Klaus said, as they exited the penthouse and went onto the landing of the stairs, “The elevator doors in the lobby would lead up to here, right?”

“Yeah.” Nick said. “That’s how elevators work.”

“What do you girls know about elevators?” Klaus asked, turning to Lilac and Violet.

“I know how to fix them.” Lilac said.

“I know quite a bit, actually.” Violet said. “Ben gave me elevator blueprints for my birthday. It’s essentially a platform, surrounded by an enclosure, that moves along the vertical axis via an endlessly looped belt and a series of ropes.”

“It’s controlled by a push-button console that regulates an electromagnetic braking system so the transport sequence can be halted at any access point the passenger desires.” Lilac infodumped.

“In normal-people speak,” Nick said, “It’s a box that moves up or down. But who cares?”

“Yeah.” Solitude nodded.

“Freijip?” Sunny asked, meaning, “How can you think of elevators at a time like this?”

“Here’s the thing.” Klaus said. “Outside the door to this penthouse, there are two pairs of elevator doors. There’s only one in the lobby, and one on every other floor.”

“That’s true.” Violet said, suddenly realizing, her eyes drifting to the second pair of doors. “It means only one elevator can stop at the top floor… but then where’s the exit?”

“I don’t think it’s really an elevator.” Klaus said. “There isn’t actually an elevator here.”

“Then it’s just an empty shaft.” Lilac said.

“It’s ersatz.” Klaus nodded. “Meaning it could, very easily, be a hiding place.”

“A hiding place.” Nick echoed.

“That’s why elevators are out.” Lilac said. “So Gunther can hide here.”

Nick walked over to the second elevator. “Well, then,” he said, “Let’s see what’s here.” He moved towards the panel. “Now,” he said, “Why would you need an up arrow if you’re at the top floor?”

Violet joined him and quickly pressed the Up button, and they watched as the sliding doors opened. The children peered into the shaft, and quickly, Sunny said, “Lakry,” meaning, “There are no ropes.”

“There’s no belt, either.” Violet said. “Nor a push-button console, or electromagnetic braking system.”

“There isn’t even an enclosed platform.” Lilac said.

“It’s ersatz.” Klaus repeated.

They stared for a moment, and then Lilac said, “We have to get down there.”

“The Quagmires could be there.” Klaus agreed.

Nick and Violet glanced at each other. “Maybe we should ask the Squalors for help, when they get back?” Violet suggested.

“We don’t have time to wait for them, and we definitely don’t have time to argue with them.” Lilac said. “If Olaf left this way, there’ll be an exit, so we won’t need a way up…”

“But he might’ve left a clue, so we have to look.” Klaus said.

“We could tie ourselves a rope to go down.” Lilac suggested.

“We’d need a lot of fabric.” Violet said. Then she paused, and said, “Or maybe not. Do you guys remember craft room number three?”

“The one with all the out items?” Nick huffed.

Violet pulled out her ribbon, tying back her hair. “I think it may just be useful. Nick, can you get us there?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s where we’re going. Come on, move your asses. We have some friends to save.”

As soon as they reached the craft room, Violet said, “Okay, everyone, gather up these items: Lilac, get that giant basket. It could fit all of us, right?”

“Yeah.” Lilac nodded. “Why-”

“Nick, get those blankets, and I’ll tie them together with the Devil’s Tongue Knot.” Violet continued. “Klaus, get some rope. Soli, Sunny, get me flashlights. We’ll need them.”

“What are you planning?” Klaus asked, grabbing the rope.

Lilac realized first, as she was pushing the basket over. “Oh, Violet,” she said, “This is a horrible plan.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

Lilac smirked. “Oh, hell no.”

Violet smirked right back, as Nick said. “What? What are we doing?”

“We’re making ourselves a parachute basket.” Lilac said. “We’re going to drop ourselves down the elevator.”

“Help me tie these.” Violet said, dropping to her knees. “Then we’ll attach the parachute to the ropes, and the ropes to the basket.

“This is an awful plan.” Nick said. “We could totally die.”

“So you’re all in?” Violet asked.

“Of course I am. What else can I do?”

“Leave a note for the Squalors.” Violet said. “Tell them we went shopping for pinstripe suits. Oh, Lilac, hand me that cup.”

“Lying! Fun!” Nick said.

“Why do you need this cup?” Lilac asked.

“Might be useful.” Violet shrugged.

Lilac sighed, tossing her the cup. “Solitude, make sure Babbitt is safe in your pocket. We don’t want them to fall out in the shaft.”

Solitude nodded seriously and patted her pocket.

“This could take a while.” Violet said, looking at the blankets. “We better hope we can get this finished before the Squalors come back.”

“We will.” Nick said, smiling at her. “You guys finally have a plan, meaning we’re totally gonna win this thing.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, First Matey!” Violet said, mockingly saluting him. “Now go write us a ransom note!”

“Aye aye, captain!” Nick said.

“Bull, I’m the captain.” Lilac protested jokingly.

“What am I?” Klaus asked.

“You’re the mermaid we pick up on the way.” Nick said.

“Sweet.” Klaus nodded. “And Soli and Sunny are the parrots?”

“Solitude is,” Nick said, moving past him to find a pencil and paper, “Sunny is the albatross that curses us.”

“Doom!” Sunny cheered.

“No, no curses right now.” Lilac giggled, starting to die. “We’re gonna need all the luck we can get.”

It took a long while, but eventually they got the basket contraption together. They all placed Solitude and Sunny inside, and then pushed the basket out into the hall. It barely made it past the doors, but it seemed like it would fit into the elevator shaft.

Nick climbed in first, grabbing Solitude, followed by Violet, and then Lilac and Klaus.

“Are you ready?” Lilac asked.

“No.” Klaus said honestly.

“None of us are ready, are we?” Nick asked quietly.

“If we wait until we’re ready,” Violet said, “We’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”

They nodded at each other, and then they pushed the basket into the shaft.

For a few brief seconds, they were falling fast. And then the parachute opened up, and their descent slowed. They all breathed sighs of relief, moving to sit in the basket as best they could.

“Dark.” Sunny said.

“That’s what the flashlights are for.” Nick said. “Klaus, you have them?”

“Yeah, I…” Klaus paused. “Wait, no, that’s the spyglass. Shit… here, got it!” he turned a flashlight on, shining a light up onto their parachute.

“It worked.” Violet smiled.

“We never expected otherwise.” Klaus said.

“Question?” Solitude said, holding up her arm.

“Yeah, Sol?” Nick asked.

“If we find Olaf there,” Solitude said, sounding out her words very slowly, still getting used to speaking sentences, “What do we do?”

They froze a moment.

“We,” Nick said, “Suck at thinking things through.”

“We’ll…” Lilac sighed. “Guess we’ll go with Nick’s plan. Fight him until he stops moving.”

“Whoo! One for Nick!” Nick cheered.

“No! Still illegal!” Klaus said.

“I’m down for murder.” Violet shrugged.

“Shh!” Lilac said. “I thought I heard a voice!”

They all fell silent, and then the older four scampered to their feet, peering over the edge of the basket.

“I don’t see much.” Nick said. “Klaus, shine the flashlight over here.”

Klaus shined the light, and it hit, several feet below them and to their left, several metal bars.

“Holy shit.” Violet said.

They all backed up slightly in the basket, and Violet took the flashlight, grabbing the cup and shoving it over the flashlight to make a makeshift lamp. She held it up as the basket dropped to the floor, the parachute falling behind them.

Up ahead, in a large, metal cage, were the Quagmire triplets.

“Duncan!” Klaus called.

“Isadora!” Violet shouted.

“Quagmires!” Lilac and Nick said.

“Ypu!” Solitude and Sunny said, which meant something like, “Pick us up! We can’t see them!” Quickly, Lilac and Nick picked up the girls, but after a moment, as their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they started to wish they hadn’t.

Duncan and Isadora looked completely awful. They clearly hadn’t washed up in several days, and they still wore their Prufrock uniforms, though they were dirtied and ripped. Their hair was a mess, they both had a bruise or scar here or there, but worst of all, there was something dark behind their eyes. Like all the light inside had gone out. It took the Baudelaires a while to find the word for it.

Haunted.

The Quagmires stared at the Baudelaires, and Duncan said quietly, “Isa, are we seeing the same thing?”

He reached over, grabbing her arm and holding her very close to him. Isadora said, “I don’t know.”

“I remember reading that sometimes people in desperate situations hallucinate good things.” Duncan said.

“I read that, too.” Klaus said, reaching out his hand. “But we’re right here. We’re here to rescue you.”

Slowly, Isadora reached out her hand, grazing his fingers; it was too hard for Klaus to reach farther through the cage.

“You’re here.” Isadora said quietly.

“We’re here.” Lilac nodded, tears springing to her eyes. “We’re here and we’re sorry.”

“We’re going to get you out of here.” Violet said.

“What has he done to you?” Lilac asked.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

The Quagmires blinked at them for a moment, as if in shock. Then Duncan started to cry, and he moved to the edge of the cage so he could grab Klaus’s hand. Isadora moved, too, wiping tears away with her sleeve, and Lilac held out her free hand for her to hold.

“You’re here.” Duncan said. “We didn’t think…”

“You found us.” Isadora said.

“We’ll always find you.” Nick said. “You’re our friends, and we’re not letting that bastard hurt you any more.”

Solitude leaned over, pulling Babbitt from her pocket and showing the triplets. “Babbitt missed you.” she said, and Babbitt chirped agreement.

Isadora stared for a moment, and then she let out a slight, broken laugh. “We missed Babbitt, too.”

Babbitt hopped back onto Soli’s shoulder, and then she said, “Soli missed you, too.”

Duncan and Isadora looked about ready to break down. “We missed you, too.” Duncan said. “We missed you all.”

“We missed you so much.” Violet said.

“Has he kept you in here all week?” Lilac asked.

“I don’t know.” Duncan said. “We can’t tell time in here. They sneak us out to use the bathroom every now and again, and sometimes one of Olaf’s henchpeople brings us food, but we don’t know when. And sometimes… sometimes Olaf comes in, just to brag. He keeps saying all these horrible things, he says that once we’re of age and he can get our fortune-”

“Don’t.” Isadora shook, gripping tight to Lilac’s hand. “Don’t make me think about it, Duncan, I don’t want to think about what he’s said!”

“He’s said quite a lot of things.” Duncan said quietly.

“But the good news is, he’s said what his plan is.” Isadora said. “He couldn’t help bragging about it.”

“He’s going to smuggle us out in the auction tonight,” Duncan said, flipping through his commonplace book, which he still had in his pocket, though it looked slightly worn. “He’s going to hide us in one of the items for sale, but he didn’t say which one.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Klaus said. “You’re not going to the auction.”

“We’re getting you out.” Violet said. She reached forwards, seeing a lock on the cage door. “Lilac, do you have your pins?”

Lilac shook her head, and Isadora said, “That won’t work, it’s not an ordinary enough pin-tumbler lock.”

“We could try burning it open.” Violet said. “I could try to make a flamethrower.”

“You’re not making a flamethrower.” Lilac said.

“Try the spyglass.” Isadora said. “Do you have it?”

Klaus confusedly released Duncan’s hand to pull it out, and Violet quickly grabbed it instead. Klaus held out the spyglass, and he said, “How can it help?”

“Flip the dials like… this.” Isadora reached out, moving the dials on the side of the spyglass. At that, the lid flipped open, and it emitted a low orange glow. “That’s heat.”

“How do you know that?” Lilac asked.

“We found the book.” Duncan said. “It had everything on the spyglass- and more stuff.”

“There was so much in there.” Isadora said, almost breathless, as Violet took the spyglass and aimed it at the lock. “About our parents, and your guardians-”

“It’s all connected.” Duncan repeated. “VFD.”

“What’s-” Lilac began.

“Son of a bitch.” Violet muttered. “The lock won’t break. It just gets hot.”

Lilac glanced down at the lock, which was looking slightly red but wasn’t breaking at all. She leaned over and said, “We’ll need to get materials in the penthouse. How do we…” she narrowed her eyes, glancing at the parachute. “Heat rises.”

“Heat rises.” Violet repeated, running for the parachute.

“You’re leaving?” Duncan asked.

“Just for a bit.” Lilac promised. “Someone should stay with the triplets.”

“Me!” Sunny volunteered.

“No, no!” Isadora said. “Stay together.” She smiled a little. “You’re stronger together.”

“But come back soon.” Duncan said.

“We will.” Lilac promised. “And then we’ll all be together, okay?”

“We trust you.” Isadora nodded, grabbing Duncan’s arm.

“You’re our best friends.” Violet said, as she placed the spyglass under part of the parachute.

“We love you both.” Nick said.

“We love you all, too.” Duncan said.

“See you soon.” Isadora said.

All the Baudelaires had tears in their eyes as they nodded.

Then Violet slowly moved the dials on the spyglass, and it heated up more. The parachute rose, and so did the basket.

“We’ll be back soon!” Violet promised.

“We’ll see you as soon as possible!” Klaus said.

“We’ll set you free!” Nick said.

“Soon!” Solitude and Sunny cried.

Lilac didn’t say anything; she just stared down at the triplets, trying not to cry as she saw them wave hopefully after them. They looked so broken, so hurt. And they were just children.

Just like us.

It hit Lilac then. We’re just kids. We’re just kids. This shouldn’t be happening to us.

But it was.

And now Lilac had to make sure all of this stopped. Before the Quagmires could suffer more.

And before what happened to them could happen to her siblings.

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #the ersatz elevator #six baudelaires official fic #mine #my fanfic

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