#get this bullshit off of my dashboard it’s so fucking obnoxious

[porcupiney]

okay like genuinely these past few days the only stuff that seems to be coming my way on tumblr is negativity towards, and moral condemnation of, characters i like. and at this point i’m like two steps away from biting peoples heads off. like i think if i see one more shit take about a guy i like i’m going to start ripping people apart limb from limb im not even joking

[saylors-universe]

All Hands on Deck, two

Rowaelin cruise ship vacation AU

Masterlist here

word count: 5193

[ Warnings: Explicatory language, references to drugs/alcohol, etc.]

[This is an interactive story! I will include certain Authorʻs Notes throughout the chapters to inform you when to start a particular song that you can find here in the All Hands on Deck playlist (Also can be found on the masterlist). For the best experience, listen with headphones, AND FOLLOW ALONG WITH THE STORY. Please try to use your imagination when listening and reading - live through the words. Have fun :) - Saylor]

[A.N.]- Heads up, this is a pretty long one. I had a lot of fun writing it and hopefully you guys enjoy it.

...

DAY 1 - WENDLYN PORT - “Welcome all! Embarkment at 2:00 pm”

   Lysandra is going to kill her. That is if they don't die in a fatal crash on their way to the docks. Aelin yanks down the passenger seat visor, flipping open the mirror compartment to find her puffy eyes matched with fresh, dark bags resting underneath. She unbuckles her seatbelt quickly to twist around, reaching behind in the backseat to grab her purse, stacked high up on her tower of suitcases. Digging through her purse, she fishes out a pair of dark, round sunglasses and covers the evidence of her late-night crying session. 

   “Ae- are you sure youʻre fine?” Aedion interrogates, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to scan her face, now hidden behind the obnoxiously large sunglasses. When he makes out her unusual, quiet demeanor, he drops his comforting presence, revealing a more terrifying and territorial anger. “I swear to God Iʻll kill him. The next time I see him, Iʻm bashing his face in.”

   “Please donʻt Aedion,” she murmurs, “I just need to get distracted for a little while. This trip will be good for me,” she prays, “I just need to forget.”

   Forget. Forget his chestnut locks, his deep brown eyes. Forget their morning runs and late night conversations. Forget the man who had been the first to pleasure her, to claim her innocence. Forget Chaol Westfall. Forget the cheating bastard who had broken her heart just two days prior. Forget the medical resident who had been having an affair with his attending, he had called her Yrene. She couldn't believe she was living an episode of Greys Anatomy, replaying Meredith Greys “pick me, choose me, love me” speech. He didnʻt. She knew they werenʻt right for each other, but still, she had hopes they would eventually work it out. Forget him. Eventually you will forget this pain. You will replace these memories with better, happier ones. It WILL get better. 

   Before Aedion could retort, Aelin answers a ringing call from a furious Lysandra. “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU ASHRYVERS”

“Good morning to you too”

“Oh Iʻm sorry, please do forgive my harsh tone. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU.”

“Weʻre nearly there babe,” Aedion butts in, “we had a ... late morning.” He looks over to his cousin, she catches a glimpse of the dashboard clock. 11:58 

“Are you guys okay? What happened?”

“Oh would you look at that, we just pulled in, be up there in a sec.” Aelin rushes out and hangs up abruptly. Exiting the car before Aedion fully parks in the stall. She takes in the vast, intimidating vessel - their home for the next three weeks. Fun.

   The two make a swift race of gathering together all their belongings, Aedion insisting on taking the more heavier bags - leaving Aelin to her bass guitar bag, a suitcase, and backpack. They proceeded to check in at the port center, showing their credentials and receiving their key cards. Then briskly went through security and began traveling up the ramp to the shipsʻ passenger entrance, closing right behind them. 

   As they enter the main lobby floor of the ship, Aelinʻs jaw drops to the floor in astonishment. To say the interior of the massive craft was “elegant” would be an understatement and a disservice. In the heart of the ship was a geniusly architectured ballroom, fit for the grandest of parties. A beautiful grand piano sat beneath the most gorgeous chandelier Aelin has ever seen, drowning the entire hall with warm light. She made sure to take mental notes and pictures to refer to the room for future dreams, or plans - this would be the perfect venue for a wedding ceremony.

“You coming Ace?” Aedion summons.

   Snapping back to reality, Aelin follows the blonde, muscular man carrying majority of their luggage to the lobbyʻs elevators. He examines their key cards - showing their rooms: 825 , 823 . Assuming their rooms would be on level 8, he invites Aelin to press the button for the eighth floor with one of her free hands. They trek the rest of journey in silence, until they reached their respective rooms, right across from each other. It seems someone had sticked colorful magnets of the alphabet, numbers, and symbols on their door, like the ones found on a familyʻs refrigerator. It was very clever, none of their phones would have service while out at sea, this provides a smart solution to know peopleʻs whereabouts when theyʻre out and where to locate them. It had to be the work of Elide Lochan. On one door, someone spelt out LYS + AEDION in vibrant magnets, the other ACE + MANON. Aelin peers around at neighboring rooms, but fails to find a similar door with the name ʻElideʻ spelt out in magnets. Weird. Surely Elide would have decorated her own door, if not only to personalize it, but also claim her territory. 

“Come get me once youʻre settled in? Weʻll go look for the others together.” her companion offers. 

   She nods in response before swiping her key card and entering room 823. It was a generously large cabin room with two queen sized beds, one fairly sized bathroom, and patio balcony. Seeing as the bed closest to the door was already occupied with bags, Manonʻs she assumed, she unloads her luggage on the bed nearest the sliding door balcony. In the bathroom stocked with all the necessary amenities, Aelin takes a quick look at herself in the vanity mirror. She lifts her large sunglasses atop her head, finally assessing the damage of her late night spent grieving her relationship. She was a mess, still beautiful, just drained. In hopes of reviving herself she splashes her face with some cold water, definitely waking her up. After taking a look around and getting situated she grabs her key card and leaves her cabin, takes the short trip across the narrow hallway and knocks on Aedionʻs door. There was some rustling behind the door, then Aedion opened up, revealing an identical room to her own. 

“All good?”

“Yep, you?”

“Yeah, letʻs go. Lys texted, said theyʻre scoping out the pool on the Lido deck.”

   They make their way to the Lido deck, finding it surprisingly crowded. The pool was massive and already occupied by a few passengers. The food bar near the pool, already had a line of hungry patrons patiently waiting for their burgers and fries. The elderly, kind looking chef at the grill and young, tawny curly haired chefʻs assistant both lock eyes with Aelin and offer a warm smile and welcoming wave as she and Aedion pass by. By some luck, they are reunited with their friends who were lounging on suntanning chairs on the deck.

“Hi baby!” Lysandra squeals as she runs into her boyfriends arms, who returns the passion just as fervently. “Hi, my love.”

“I missed you so much” “I missed you more”

   The interaction earned a not-so-subtle eye roll from the petulant Manon Blackbeak. “Spare us the lovey-dovey bullshit.” Which Lys returned by flipping the white-haired drummer off while pushing her tongue down Aedionʻs throat. Manon scoffs and then raises a hand to block her eyes from the blaring sun. Her very pale complexion already seemed tanned from the short time in the sun.

“Aelin!” Elide shouts, moving out of Lorcanʻs arms to embrace her friend, “you guys made it.”

Aelin returns Elideʻs hug as she meets her tan, dark-haired fianceʻs dour gaze. “Galanthynius”

Unlocking from her tender friendʻs clutch. “Salvaterre,” she returns, nodding her head once in recognition. 

“Did you guys find your rooms okay?” the brown eyed beauty continued.

“Yeah, we just dropped our stuff off.”

“Oh good. Okay, I talked with Dorian, the cruise director, and he showed me the music room we can use for practices. He said the performance stage is up there on the sky deck,” she points to a level right above the food bar, in perfect view of the pool, “itʻs across from the sport courts and thereʻs an open bar right over there”, pointing near the direction of the stage,”- so the plan right now is we only perform nights at sea. But we also switch off with the boys, so we wonʻt even need to worry about some nights,”

“The boys?”

“My guys,” Lorcan sneers.

“Lorcan Salvaterre? In a band?” Aelin mocks, and snickers.

“Iʻm full of surprises,” a response that manages to shut Aelin up pretty quickly. 

“Weʻve got tonight so you guys donʻt have to stress, but weʻll be out at sea tomorrow night as well so thatʻs all you guys,” Lorcan informs the women. He pulls Elide back and notifies her that he has to head off to his bandʻs practice for tonights show and that heʻll find her afterwards. They share a quick kiss that Aelin deeply regrets witnessing, and the broody giant saunters off to wherever the music room Elide mentioned was located, leaving the ladies and Aedion to investigate the gigantic portable hotel.

_______________________________________________

“Come on Whitethorn, you really need to live a little,” the white wolf incarnate, Fenrys Moonbeam, teases the bass player in tempts of sharing some embarkment/welcome drinks before their practice. 

“You know I donʻt do that stuff anymore,” itʻs true. Rowan had made sure to never touch or consume anything that would dampen his senses or thought process, not since Lyria. He would never be that stupid again, never recklessly waste away at the bottom of a bottle only to have his loving girlfriend take him home. Except she wouldnʻt make it home. And it was his fault, he has to live with the guilt of being alive, without her instead of her.

“Besides, I prefer being at my best for our shows,” he adds.

“And whoʻs to say Iʻm not”

“Fen, you can barely remember half our shows,”

“Damn, they must have been good.” 

   His twin and night to his day, Connal, finally joins the two in the music room set aside in the ships corner, to provide some semblance of privacy during their practice. “Lor here yet?”

“I havenʻt seen him since we checked in our rooms,” Rowan had really lucked out. Lorcan would be in a romantic suite with his fiance, the twins decided to share a room, so that left Rowan with his own private room, room 835 a nicely sized cabin in the corner of the hall, far enough away from everyone else but close enough to the elevators. 

Lorcan slips in the room shortly after Connal had, “speak of the fucking devil,” the mischievous blonde wolf pokes.

“Okay boys, night one, we have to impress,” Lorcan chips in.

“Iʻm thinking we do the set we did in Ardalan,” Connal pitched. The rest agree, preparing their instruments, Lorcan taking his seat at the drum set and the rest tuning their guitars for their respective roles, Rowan-bassist, Connal-lead guitarist, and Fenrys - rhythm guitarist & lead singer.

   After a couple clean run throughs, the boys departed to their rooms to prepare for the night. 

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

NIGHT 1 - AT SEA - “Live music from ʻThe Cadreʻ tonight at 7 pm on the Sky Deck”

   After the mandatory safety lecture and demonstrations on how to use the life vests provided in the cabinʻs closets and assigning the zones theyʻd report to in the case of an emergency, the Queenʻs Court + Aedion went around the whole ship, looking for a homebase to call their own and to meet everyday. They had decided on the food bar by the pool where the head chef, Emrys, and his assistant, Luca, merrily accepted them. Through getting acquainted, Aelin had learned that Luca was Emrys and his partner, Malakaiʻs, adopted son. She had also learned that they were from Terrasen like her. They quickly bonded over their shared experiences of growing up and life in Terrasen, the two culinary experts warmly welcomed her to their fold. 

“We better go get ready,” Elide had warned the group after finishing their amazing burger and fries made with love from their new friends. The squad quickly found their way to the elevators, Elide hopping off on the ninth floor, to Aelinʻs surprise. It must have shown on her face because Lys swiftly answered her minds wondering, “Lorcan and El got the better cabin suite, complimentary engagement gift from the cruise line.” To which she nodded in understanding.

   Upon returning to their cabin, Aelin collapses on her bed, still covered with her luggage. Manon notes the desperate fall and snickers, “You good Ace?” 

“No,” do I really want to unpack this all right now? - not referring to her clothes, “Chaol and I broke up. Well actually I found out he was cheating on me, and then we broke up.”

“Shit. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Good cuz I donʻt either.”

The insensitive banter coincidentally brought a smile to Aelinʻs face, “You asshole,” she calls and throws one of her bedʻs pillows at her now roommate. 

   Manonʻs lightning fast reflexes allowed her to catch the flying pillow without a second thought. “Look at where you are right now, weʻre on a fucking cruise ship with our best friends and weʻre being paid to do our favorite thing. Now if you donʻt lighten up, forget about that loser, and get your ass in a tiny, skimpy outfit then Iʻll fuck your brains out, make you fall in love with me and break your heart too. Any breakup heartbreak can be cured by a good oleʻ one night stand, and I normally donʻt do those kind of favors for bandmates so it looks like we are just going to have to find you some dick tonight ”

   Aelin knew she wasnʻt joking. When it really counts, Manon is always able to talk some sense and logic into Aelin, and tonight she would be grateful for it. So she did as the terrifyingly pretty, golden-eyed bisexual had commanded. Struggling as she slipped into a classic red, off the shoulder dress that hugged every curve of her sculpted body, barely passing her high-mid thigh. She curled loose waves in her long blonde hair, and applied a natural eye makeup look with a bold red lip. After studying this new woman in the mirror, she was reminded of how fucking hot she was, she felt stunning and daring, perhaps even more bold than her personality already permits. 

   Her roomie gave her a catcall whistle as she left the bathroom. Manon had prepared for the show with a sleek black halter top that exposed her defined midriff, and a criminally damning amount of cleavage, along with a tight black pencil skirt that also showed off her many curves. They were two dangerously attractive women, and they both knew it, which in a sense is even more deadly.

“Shall we?” Manon asks holding out an arm. Aelin takes it earnestly as the two strut their way to the Sky deck. 

   They manage to find Elide, Lysandra, and Aedion in the already massive crowd on the deck. Their group had really shown up tonight, they looked like they could be in a magazine catalogue, just a bunch of wildly attractive, and talented individuals. 

“You two made it just in time,” Elide greeted, taking them into their circle. 

   A disgustingly handsome, dark haired, tanned man with the most mesmerizing, sapphire eyes, took the stage. Aelin made sure to note Manon becoming suddenly stiff besides her as she took in the stranger on stage. “Howʻs everybody doing tonight,” he welcomes with an energetic, soothing voice. The crowd roars in anticipation. When the audience settles enough for him to be heard again he continues, “well Iʻm so very glad to hear that. We are so happy to have you guys here with us on the Ellywe Voyager, my name is Dorian, I am your cruise activities director, so you guys will be seeing lots of me,” he flashes an award-winning smile that causes at least twenty gasps from women in the audience. “Seeing as Ellywe will be all of our home for the next couple weeks, we ask that you be mindful of your living quarters and keep the noise down in consideration of your neighbors. In agreement, we have worked hard to organize not only one but two, awesome bands for you guys to jam out to in these live concerts throughout the weeks, how does that sound?” The crowd goes absolutely ballistic. This is the type of energy Aelin lives for, she could get used to this for the next few weeks. “I love to hear the sound of that, so without further ado, everyone please help me welcome The Cadre!”

[A.N.] - Start “What I Like About You (Live)” - 5SOS now, follow along, and let your imagination take you there. Find the playlist here.

The crowd screams in welcoming.

Crowd: “Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn, Whitethorn.”

Aelin: Whitethorn? What-

The music starts building and Lys scoots over to her bandmates, “Our competitions got quite the fanbase.”

“Yeah, letʻs see if theyʻre any good,” Manon scoffs.

The audience continues to scream, welcoming their entertainment.

Lorcan: Woo

Cadre + Crowd : HEY!    HEY!

Fenrys:    THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

                   YOU HOLD ME TIGHT

 AND TELL ME IʻM THE ONLY ONE WANNA COME OVER  TONIGHT, YEAH

Cadre:   KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

     TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

        ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE

Connal:         THATʻS RIGHT

          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:          YEAH WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

                        YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO DANCE

         OH-   WHEN YOU GO UP, DOWN, JUMP AROUND

        THINKING ʻBOUT TRUE ROMANCE, YEAH

Cadre:          KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

           TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

          ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE,  THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT --- YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Everyone:      HEY!

 Aelin watches, eyes wide, mouth agape, as a certain silver haired ghost from her past shreds a guitar solo. He catches her presence, and suddenly loses touch with reality - the sounds start to deafen around him of realization of who is in the crowd.

Fenrys:       “LISTEN UP *ELLYWE*”

Rowan:         WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Fenrys:         YOU HOLD ME REAL TIGHT.              heha.

                  NEVER WANNA LET YOU GO

            KNOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL ALRIGHT

Cadre:        KEEP ON WHISPERING IN MY EAR

                TELL ME ALL THE THINGS THAT I WANNA HEAR

           ʻCAUSE ITʻS TRUE, THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Connal:       [HERE WE GO]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:     THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU

Cadre:         [WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU]

Fenrys:          THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT --- Y- Y-

                   THATʻS WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOOOOOOOOOOOU

- The crowd goes absolutely nuts, yet his gaze never leaves hers. That canʻt be, he thinks to himself, what is she doing here? 

   The only blonde in the group grabs his mic, Aelin deduced this is the one called Fenrys from the squealing girls in the audience yelling his name. “How are we doing tonight Ellywe?”,walls of screams respond. “We are so glad to be here with you guys, so glad in fact that weʻve prepared a little treat for you guys,” continues shrieking, “take it away Whitethorn.”

[A.N] Start “House of Memories” by Panic! At the Disco now, follow along, and use your imagination. Find the playlist here.

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:    IF YOUʻRE A LOVER, YOU SHOULD KNOW

        THE LONELY MOMENTS JUST GET LONELIER

                 THE LONGER YOUʻRE IN LOVE

                 THAN IF YOU WERE ALONE

                MEMORIES TURN INTO DAYDREAMS

                   BECOME A TABOO

-  Eyes still locked with hers as if in a silent conversation  -

          I DONʻT WANT TO BE AFRAID

             THE DEEPER THAT I GO

               IT TAKES MY BREATH AWAY

             SOFT HEARTS, ELECTRIC SOULS

             HEART TO HEART AND EYES TO EYES

                       IS THIS TABOO?

      BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

 -  He winks at the woman in the red dress who has captured his slightly divided attention.   -

             AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

          PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:      I THINK OF YOU FROM TIME TO TIME

                     MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD

                    YOU WERE JUST TOO KIND

                  AND I WAS TOO YOUNG TO KNOW

                 THATʻS ALL THAT REALLY MATTERS

                             I WAS A FOOL

      BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

    AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACIES

 PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:  THOSE THOUGHTS OF PAST LOVERS, THEYʻLL ALWAYS HAUNT ME

    I WISH I COULD BELIEVE YOUʻD NEVER WRONG ME

   THEN WILL YOU REMEMBER ME IN THE SAME WAY

                   AS I REMEMBER YOU?

   BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

   TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

     AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

               PROMISE ME A PLACE 

   BABY, WE BUILT THIS HOUSE ON MEMORIES

  TAKE MY PICTURE NOW, SHAKE IT TILL YOU SEE IT

   AND WHEN YOUR FANTASIES BECOME YOUR LEGACY

    PROMISE ME A PLACE IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:                   IN YOUR HOUSE OF MEMORIES

Cadre:     OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH-WA-A-A-A-OH-WOOAAH-OH

Rowan:                          PROMISE ME A PLACE

-  Once again, the crowd goes absolutely berserk, and rightfully so, The Cadre had really came out to impress tonight. Still in a state of shock, Aelin grabs Manonʻs wrists and pulls her to the open bar near the back of the stage deck, “I need a drink.”

“Damn. I have to give it to them, they are REALLY good.”

The band continues in the background, while Aelin completely loses herself to her racing mind.  -

[A.N] Start “American Idiot (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along and let your imagination flow. Find playlist here.

Connal:      “Does anybody know the band ʻGreen Dayʻ?”

Fenrys:        “Iʻm not familiar”

Connal:        “The next song weʻr --”

Fenrys:         “Whoʻs that?”

Connal:        “Heh, the next song weʻre going to play is a very, very, very fast cover of them”

Fenrys:         “Iʻm sorry --”

Lorcan:          “Donʻt judge my drumming, I suck at this song, letʻs go,”

-    Aelin and Manon return to their group of friends, drinks in hand, completely enthralled by the performers.  - 

Connal:          DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                        ONE NATION CONTROLLED BY THE MEDIA

                    AND CAN YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF HYSTERIA?

                AND SING ALONG TO THE AGE OF PARANOIA

Fenrys:       WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                    ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

                 WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

                   TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

            WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

              FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

Connal:             DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                     IʻM NOT APART OF THE REDNECK AGENDA

                 NOW EVERYBODY DO THE PROPAGANDA

            AND SING ALONG TO THE AGE OF PARANOIA

Fenrys:         WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                  ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

               WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

                TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

              WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

                 FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

-   Rowan has a bass solo, to which Aelin has a difficult time not being captivated by, her eyes never leave the silver-haired, green eyed, bassist, as if they are in their own little world.    -

-   Lorcan has a drumming solo to which Elide screeches, “THATʻS MY MOTHERFUCKING HUSBAND,” he couldnʻt have possibly heard her over the drowning music but he notes her excitement and gives her a wide grin, only meant for her eyes.   -

Connal:        DONʻT WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT

                    ONE NATION CONTROLLED BY THE MEDIA

Fenrys:                INFORMATION AGE OF HYSTERIA

Connal:             ITʻS CALLING OUT TO IDIOT AMERICA

Fenrys:         WELCOME TO A NEW KIND OF TENSION

                 ALL ACROSS THE ALIEN NATION

              WHERE EVERYTHING ISNʻT MEANT TO BE OKAY

               TELEVISION DREAMS OF TOMORROW

             WEʻRE NOT THE ONES WHOʻRE MEANT TO FOLLOW

                FOR THATʻS ENOUGH TO ARGUE

- More headache causing, loud screaming from their devoted audience -

[A.N.] Start “Teenage Dream (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along and let your imagination work. Find playlist here.

Fenrys:         “Whatʻs the next song *Connal Moonbeam*”

Connal:           “The next song weʻre going to play is a cover, so [crowd screams] itʻs not one of our songs actually.”

Fenrys:  “Itʻs usually for the people in the audience who donʻt know our song, so if you have a mum, or a dad, or someone here, aunty, uncle,

Lorcan:       “-significant other-”

Fenrys:         “-puppy, this songʻs for you, it goes like this.”

Connal:       “uno , dos, tres, cuatro-”

-   The song starts to build and the men on stage look completely in their element.    -

Rowan:      I THINK YOUʻRE PRETTY WITHOUT ANY MAKEUP ON

       I THINK YOUʻRE FUNNY WHEN YOU TELL THE PUNCHLINE WRONG

     I KNOW YOU GOT ME, SO I LET MY WALLS COME DOWN, DOWN

Fenrys:         BEFORE YOU MET ME, I WAS ALRIGHT

                   BUT THINGS WERE KINDA HEAVY

                      YOU BROUGHT ME TO LIFE

       NOW EVERY FEBRUARY, YOUʻLL BE MY VALENTINE, VALENTINE

Connal:            SO LETʻS GO ALL THE WAY TONIGHT

                      NO REGRETS, JUST LOVE

                 WE CAN DANCE UNTIL WE DIE

                  YOU AND I, WEʻLL BE YOUNG FOREVER

              YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

               THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

             LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

               DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

               MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

               JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

              LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                     DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Fenrys:         WE DROVE TO LA, GOT DOWN ON THE BEACH

                    GOT A MOTEL AND BUILT HOUSE OUT OF SHEETS

      I FINALLY GOT YOU, MY MISSING PUZZLE PIECE, IʻM COMPLETE

Connal:        SO LETʻS GO ALL THE WAY TONIGHT

                         NO REGRETS, JUST LOVE

                       WE CAN DANCE, UNTIL WE DIE

                 YOU AND I [here we go], WEʻLL BE YOUNG FOREVER

     YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

              THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

            LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

              DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

              ʻCAUSE MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

              JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

             LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                    DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Lorcan:         ʻCAUSE I CAN FEEL YOUR HEART RACING 

                                IN MY SKIN-TIGHT JEANS

                     BE YOUR TEENAGE DREAM TONIGHT

                  LET YOU REST YOUR HANDS ON ME

                          IN MY SKIN-TIGHT JEANS

                      BE YOUR TEENAGE DREAM TONIGHT [wooooooo]

Fenrys:      “*Ellywe*, if you know the words, please sing them”

Lorcan:      [ one, two, three, hey.  ]

Connal + CROWD:   ʻCAUSE YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IʻM LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM

                                    THE WAY YOU TURN ME ON, I CANʻT SLEEP

                                LETʻS RUN AWAY AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                                     DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                  ʻCAUSE MY HEART STOPS WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME

                 JUST ONE TOUCH, NOW BABY I BELIEVE, THIS IS REAL

                 LETʻS TAKE A CHANCE AND DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

                                DONʻT EVER LOOK BACK

Connal:   “The next song weʻre going to play, is about girls, and girls like this”

Fenrys:         “Cooties!”

-     There is a mixture of laughter and screams from the audience.   -

[A.N.] Start “Valentine (Live)” by 5SOS now, follow along, and - yea you know the drill. Find playlist here.

Rowan:     “This oneʻs a new one. Youngblood itʻs called Valentine, it goes like                      this”

Lorcan:      “*Ellywe* letʻs fucking dance.”

Rowan:  I LOVE THE LIGHT IN YOUR EYES AND THE DARK IN YOUR HEART

           YOU LOVE A PERMANENT CHASE AND THE BITE OF OUR MARK

       WE KNOW WEʻRE CLASSIC TOGETHER LIKE EGYPTIAN GOLD

                   WE WILL LOVE US

    IT DONʻT MATTER, BE COMBATIVE OR BE SWEET CHERRY PIE

       IT DONʻT MATTER, JUST AS LONG AS I GET ALL YOU TONIGHT

       [ here we go ]

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                  WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

 THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

    I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                     VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Lorcan:       SO FUCKINʻ DEEP THAT YOUR DNAʻS BEINʻ MESSED WITH MY                          TOUCH,      CANʻT BEAT US

Connal:     SO REAL, FUELING THE FIRE UNTIL WE COMBUST

                      CANʻT TOUCH US.   [give it to me]

Fenrys:        IT DONʻT MATTER BE COMBATIVE OR BE SWEET CHERRY PIE

                IT DONʻT MATTER JUST AS LONG AS I GET ALL YOU TONIGHT

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                 WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

   I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                    VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Rowan:    FULL PLATE, DONʻT WAIT, HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO

                   [ SING ]

Crowd: FULL PLATE, DONʻT WAIT, [+ ROWAN] HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT

Cadre:       I CAN TAKE YOU OUT, OH - OH

                WE CAN KILL SOME TIME STAY HOME

THROW BALLOONS, TEDDY BEARS, AND THE CHOCOLATE ECLAIRS AWAY

  I GOT NOTHINʻ BUT LOVE FOR YOU, FALL MORE IN LOVE EVERYDAY

                   VALENTINE,      VALENTINE,       

Fenrys:         VALENTINE,      VALENTINE

Rowan:    WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY.  “you sing”

Crowd:       WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY   [ “JUST YOU”]

                     WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY - WOAH - HEY

                     [”ONE MORE TIME”]

                          WOAH - HEY

-  The crowd cheers. - 

Fenrys:      “Goodnight Ellywe, we will see you later!”

-  The men leave the stage, leaving their fans in utter bliss, and one certain blonde bad bitch in a stunning red dress is left alone to her thoughts, processing what the hell had just happened.  -

[ Hi, if youʻve made it this far good for you! I hope you like the story this far. I apologize for mainly including 5sos in this chapter, I just felt it fit the vibe of opening night best. Going forward I will include more diverse artists and bands that I feel sound like the characters. -- My inbox is always open for messages, Iʻm accepting prompts, I want you guys to write this story with me, so if you have any ideas or even songs you want to see in this story, let me know! -- If you would like to be on the tag list send me a message, thank you so much for your support - saylor loves you ! :) ]

-

All Hands on Deck taglist:

@smalltddygothgf​ @booksbqueen​ @underworldboxers​ @live-the-fangirl-life​ @booknerdproblems​ @rowaelinismyotp​ 

[aoifeanamadan]

After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 3888

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

The sky is blue, the sun is hot and Dream hates George.

He really hated him, all smug and sarcastic and closed off. Where Dream was friendly, loud and outgoing, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was above everyone else.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

Support this work on AO3 :)

Chapter One: Spanish? 

Dream was an early riser, he always had been. It was nice to wake up to quiet suburbia, to see the world jostle into life. He witnessed the cellophane peace stretch and tear. The house was quiet before sunrise. It felt delicate, holy. It felt like it was all his. Dream could wander, tiptoe around the soft quiet. It was like he was the only person left on the planet.

Lie-ins felt wrong on a cellular level. They made him feel a dirty kind of guilt, the missed opportunity. Every day since he was a child, he was up before the sun. And every day he watched the sunrise while eating breakfast. It was gorgeous. Watching the sweet pinks and dusted oranges floating up from the horizon assured him he was there, he was human.

It felt right, millions of years of evolution proving him right. Once the sun was up, the house got moving.

He loved the mornings, seeing his family bleary-eyed and cotton-mouthed. It was a different kind of vulnerability, one coated in familiarity. It made him certain that they were all there. Real and familiar and the same as always.

On the first morning of his senior year, Dream missed the sunrise. I was nothing ominous or scary, he just overslept. His alarm clock’s batteries had run out the night before and Dream couldn’t wake up without the siren blare. His sister had to knock on his hardwood door as she passed on her way downstairs.

Dream wasn’t superstitious. Witches didn’t scare him, he thought spells were bullshit. But missing the sunrise on the first morning of his last year of school, it scared him a little bit. He didn’t realise it at the time, head stuffed with shitfuckshitshit I’m going to be late , that end of the world feeling that comes with waking up late on a Monday. But the thing that scared him was the uncertainty, the proof that things were changing soon.

Normally, once the house was moving enough, he could take a shower without feeling guilty for shattering the peace of the sunrise. It was always the same, hair first then his body, his teeth.

No matter how many times he washed and changed his bedsheets, the night always made him feel dirty. Seeing the water go down the drain felt like seeing the air rushing into his lungs, his blood pumping. It was certain, it worked. Always the same soap, the same shampoo.

That morning, he had to run to the shower. Dream liked routine, a plan, but he liked efficiency more. Even his shower routine was streamlined to be as time-effective as possible. He’d had the same shower gel since he was 11, fresh and clear.

It was just his luck that his Bubble Cucumber & Aloe Vera Hair & Body Wash would run out the first morning in 7 years that he was running late.

But, he adapted. The family soap felt gritty against his skin. It felt like there was a snail leaving a trail of lime behind it. Dream felt dirty, the night was ground into his skin. But, ‘a positive attitude was his most important accessory’ according to his mother, so he got on with it. He showered, he got dressed and he rushed his way downstairs.

His socks thudded softly against the carpeted stairs as he jogged into the kitchen, wearing shoes in the morning wasn’t right in his brain. He was pulling his jumper on over his head as he walked in, really it was inevitable that he’d walk into the door frame. There was a red mark on his forehead under his hairline. Fuck. His sister’s laughter only added to the heat building in the back of his brain.

Dream was a creature of habit, he knew what worked. And why fix what’s not broken? Two slices of white bread toast (with the dial at setting 2) with blackcurrant jam, butter on both sides and no crusts.  A glass of orange juice without bits. It was an easy breakfast, it worked. He never felt hungry before lunch.

The bits in orange juice were gross, the way they congealed on the side of the glass. Just the sight of gravity dragging them down the inside of the glass, leaving a trail of orange guts and gore, it was enough to make him squirm.

So, naturally, when Dream reached to pour the orange juice that morning, he was met with a stream of obnoxiously bit filled orange juice. Dream took his deep breaths, but the rise and fall of his chest made his skin rub against his t-shirt. The feeling of the shirt sticking to his wet, slimy skin was the final straw. He punched his hand twice, squeezed his eyes shut and stood up.

In hindsight, taking the carton and pouring it down the sink was an overreaction. But at the time, despite the protests from his sisters, it seemed like the only option. There would have been no issue other than a new shortage of orange juice, but Murphy’s Law was at play.

Just as Dream was going to throw the emptied carton in the bin, his mother walked in.

“Oh Clay, for God’s sake. I had just bought that!”

Dream got into Sapnap’s car five minutes late with toast in his mouth, ‘thoroughly sorry for wasting perfectly good orange juice’ but more sorry for being seen throwing it away.

“What took so long dude?” Sapnap was smiling from the driver’s seat. The second Dream got in, he put his head on the dashboard. Sapnap only got an exaggerated groan as a response. Dream didn't lift his head.

“Okay!” Sapnap, still grinning, started them on the journey towards school. His predictions about how their senior year would go were a welcome distraction from Dream’s building stress headache.

It was easy, it always was. Dream and Sapnap, Sapnap and Dream. They knew each other better than they knew themselves. Dream didn’t need to pretend to be excited or upbeat. He just had to be there. And he was. And so was Sapnap. And that morning, that was enough for both of them. To know they had each other, each in the other’s corner.

Sapnap talked the whole journey and Dream loved him for it. They understood each other, knew what the other needed. That morning, Dream needed a distraction while Sapnap needed to get the nerves of a first day back at school out of his system.

By the time they were parked, they were running behind.

Dream was late to his first class, physics. He got into school just as first the bell rang but the receptionist wouldn’t let him past. He tried to protest but was only met with a lecture about time management. They didn’t want to hear about his excuse, his mother’s lecture about food waste.

“Well, how could I ‘manage my time’ if my mother was the one keeping me back? What am I meant to say to my mother? I’m not about to tell my mom to shut up.” Dream was almost pleading by that point. His day had gone from bad to worse, to worse, to worse.

“I’d be careful before taking that tone with a staff member if I were you, Dream.” Dream wanted to hit back, stand up for himself, but he swallowed his words. The receptionist didn’t care what he had to say, they were just happy to get him in trouble. Drunk on power and projecting their highschool experience onto Dream. This wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause.

Dream just nodded, bit back his ‘Fuck you’, apologised and headed to the other office for a late note, appeased only with a muttered whisper of ‘total bullshit’ as he walked away.

Such was the tyranny of high school.

When he finally got into the class, equipped with his note, the teacher barely paid him any attention. He didn’t even want the note. He just told him to sit down in any empty seat, then he went back to his diagram of magnetic fields.

Dream surveyed the classroom and was met with a packed grid of chairs. He could see his friends, all the way at the back of the class. It felt like light-years away. They were all frowning at him in sympathy. Dream didn’t like it at all, he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. Bad was the only one who wasn’t looking at him like he just told them his puppy died. He was tapping his watch and mouthing ‘Don’t be late’. Dream smiled back sadly and shook his head.

The only empty seat was in the front row next to Weird Sarah. Dream bit the inside of his mouth to keep from getting mad, and sat down next to her.

He turned to her, hoping to make some kind of friendship using the ‘positive attitude’ that his mother so valued, but was only met with the sight of her picking her nose at age 18. She turned to him and glared.

Dream thought that might be the final straw, after everything that had gone wrong. His head felt like a tea kettle, he was surprised other people couldn’t see steam coming out of his ears.

But, he counted his deep breaths and clenched his fists until he could refocus on electromagnetism, or whatever the teacher was talking about.

Dream had been so focused on not letting everything from the morning get to him then and there, and culminate into a public rage, he had forgotten to pay attention. He was completely lost.

The teacher must’ve noticed the look on Dream’s face, because it was then he chose to engage  Dream in the lesson.

“Dream, can you tell me how to label exhibit 6.3?”

The words felt like a death sentence. Dream just stared blankly back at him, turning red. Everyone was quiet, all witnesses to Dream’s public execution by way of embarrassment. He wanted to yell, to tell them all he wasn’t stupid he was just panicking. Instead, he sat there in the silence. Any other day he would have had some cocky, charismatic answer but that Monday he had nothing.

He could feel his classmates’ eyes burning into the back of his head, looking at him expectantly. Dream couldn’t have remembered the answer right then if he had a masters degree in electromagnetism. The silence was starting to become painful. He had to say something.

“No?” It came out as more of a question than an answer. The teacher looked at Dream, disappointed. It was too early for this.

“No Dream, you cannot, because you were too focused on staring at your blank notebook. Pay attention please.”

The teacher, Mr McCarthy, was a nice man. He was old - maybe fifty or sixty - with grey hair and frail shoulders. He had three grandchildren and two kids of his own. His youngest grandchild, Lucy, was the apple of his eye. He liked golf, reading and the Netflix programme ‘Too Hot to Handle’. He was a good teacher.

None of that mattered to Dream, who at that moment felt like his teacher might have actually been the devil.

The embarrassment was burning in his chest, in his hands. And he hated it. He didn’t get embarrassed. Dream did not get embarrassed. He got mad and angry and mean, but not embarrassed. So, he flicked the switch. The blood that was flowing to his cheeks changed course to his ears.

He felt it building up inside him again, the same anger from earlier was rushing back in to suffocate the embarrassment. This whole class was fucking bull, what did Mr McCarthy even know about jackshit?

Dream didn’t even hear him open the question up to the rest of the class. He only heard George’s response.

“It’s particle radiation.”

George said it easily, nearly muttering. He didn’t even have to think about it. The class went silent. Dream heard Bad mutter an “Oh no.”

One thing everyone knew about Dream was that he did not like to lose. Ever since he was a kid, everything was a competition. Who could brush their teeth fastest? Who could finish the storybook first? He once stayed up for 27 hours just to make sure he was better than Sapnap at Call Of Duty. He was competitive to the core. It’s easy to be like that when you’re used to winning. Every time he was the best at something, it fueled him to be the best at something else. It was an easy cycle, the blueprint never failed him.

Dream didn’t lose, but somehow George always found a way to put him in second place. Ever since they were kids. When they were doing races, George was faster. When they were doing rock, paper, scissors George was luckier. When they were doing spelling bees, George was smarter.

Dream still didn’t lose, how could he, but he also didn’t win. And that wasn’t acceptable.

George knowing the answer to Mr McCarthy’s question was his final straw that morning.

“Yeah, of course he would need to answer.” It was a mutter to Sarah, under his breath. Sarah didn’t even glance towards him. But, in the silence of the classroom, it was 1000 decibels. Everyone froze, thankful to have front seats to their own personal soap opera.

“What’d you just say?” George’s head snapped towards Dream, all aggression and thought out anger. He was giving Dream a chance to retreat. Everyone knew he wasn’t going to take it. Dream wasn’t the type to retreat.

“I said of course you would need to prove how smart you are to the whole class.” Dream was looking back at him, matching his anger. Nobody was talking.

“Boys,” Mr McCarthy, bless his soul, tried to intervene. It was a lost cause. No one even noticed him. “Just because you’re mad that you didn’t know the answer. Stop acting like a little bitch.” George was talking as if he was speaking to a younger brother, scowling at Dream. He sounded like he barely cared about what was happening. It looked like he would be cold to the touch, like a statue. It made it look like Dream was throwing a tantrum

“George!” Mr McCarthy had never heard George swear before. Dream had. Everyone in the class had. George had been swearing like a sailor since he was eight.

“I’m a bitch? Coming from you? You fucking weirdo-” Dream’s anger was only building. Seeing George look cool and collected while he felt his face heating up made it worse. He stood up, the clatter of the stool bouncing off the walls.

“Boys!” That was the final straw for Mr McCarthy. He slammed his book down on the desk as he yelled. No one moved. Dream was left standing, breathing heavily. It was like they’d been snapped back to reality, remembering that there was actually a teacher in the room. Even if it was only Mr McCarthy.

He pointed his bony finger at Dream and then at George.

“You two. Outside. Now.”

In life, there were some simple truths. The sky was blue, the sun was hot. And, Dream and George hated each other.

But, in the same was the sky had been red in the beginning and the sun would be nothing in the end, it hadn’t always been that way.

When they were younger, much younger, everything had been different. When they were kids, five years old, maybe six, Dream, George and Sapnap had been real friends, or as real a friendship could be at age nine. Sapnap had been the glue holding them all together. He was a mediator, no matter how hard he tried to start the joking fights he was always the one to end the serious ones.

Sometimes Dream thought that without Sapnap, he and George wouldn’t have made it past the age of 10 without killing each other. They were always fighting, over catch, snap, tip the can, even tic tac toe.

Things changed as they got older though. Where Dream and Sapnap got more confident, bigger, taller, stronger, George went quiet. He wasn’t shy, he just seemed mad. He was all snark and edge and frost. He retreated into himself totally, Dream never had any idea what he was thinking. By the age of ten, Dream was sure George hated him, so he decided to hate George back even harder.  

The more time that passed, the more he believed his story. That George had shut him out, and Dream was only acting in self-defence.

After all, George was weird. Where Dream was loud, the life of every party, the centre of the school community, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was better than everyone else because he didn’t engage with the school.

Everyone wanted to be Dream’s friends, everyone except George.

Bad came into the picture in high school, all kindness and unconditional friendship. He was just what Dream and Sapnap had needed, he kept them human. Bad stopped him from being a bully. Sapnap had always said to be nice because it was the right thing to do. Bad said to be nice because empathy was a virtue, he explained his experience growing up, how just one person being nice to him could’ve changed everything. He made Sapnap and Dream kinder.

Where Dream hated George, all sarcasm and snark, George seemed to have a vague dislike of Dream. It was as if he didn’t even care enough to dislike him. Even if Dream didn’t want to admit it, on some level he knew that he hated George more than George hated him. This only spurred him on to hate George even more.

Sapnap tried to stop him. Him and George were still good friends. He didn’t let them talk about each other and never told them anything about the other. That was Sapnap to a T, as loyal as they come. No matter how many times he started fake fights, Dream knew he’d always be there if he really needed him.

But, standing out in the hall in the middle of what should've been a normal physics class, Sapnap was not there. Mr McCarthy and George, however, were right in front of him, and they were on route to the principal’s office.

A solid telling off later, his third of the day, George and Dream had received their punishment. For swearing and publically fighting during physics, they were sentenced to two months worth of weekend classes together.

It was that or four months of after school detention. Dream didn’t want to admit it, but he had George to thank for negotiating it down to what it was. Dream would never tell a soul, but it was a tiny bit badass to see George debating the principal while she was mid-rant.

Dream was a lot more grateful than he was letting off.

If he wanted to stay on as the first striker on the soccer team, he needed to be at every practice. And practices were after school, exactly when their detention was first scheduled. He couldn’t have Sapnap out on the soccer field without him to pass to, how would he cope with the loneliness?

George had after school commitments as well apparently, considering how hard he fought to get the mandatory attendance to the weekend classes the school ran instead. He argued that him and Dream could improve their schooling and learn to co-exist, instead of sitting in silence and letting their hatred simmer.

They were even allowed to pick the class, as a way to start them on their journey of cooperation.

Once they left the office, miraculously still alive, Dream turned to George. He tried to push down the automatic response of ‘Fuck this guy’ in order to choose the class they would take. Before he could even open his mouth, George was talking.

“We’re doing English.” Before Dream could reply, he was walking away. Asshole.

Dream chased after him down the hall.

“Hey, hey!” George didn’t even turn around until Dream was tapping his shoulder. Asshole.

“Huh?” George had the audacity to look confused. “What do you want now?”

Dream just looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head. He was so fucking obnoxious.

“Why would we do English? I wanted to do-” Dream hesitated. He hadn’t actually thought about what he wanted to do, too distracted by what an idiot George was for speaking for the both of them without consulting him. Dream realised his pause for too long. “-Spanish.”

Dream did not want to do Spanish.

“Spanish?” George was looking at him like he was an idiot. It made Dream want to double down even harder.

“Yeah. Spanish.” It didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.

“You don’t do Spanish.” George was getting annoyed. Dream was proving everything that he thought about him right.

“I do!” Dream didn’t know why he was committing so hard to his lie. He didn’t want George to know he was right, God knows how smug it would make him.

“Speak some Spanish right now then.” George was challenging him. It caught Dream off guard. He hadn’t expected the exchange to go further than him saying he wanted to do Spanish, which he did not.

He would’ve spoken some, but never having learned a word of Spanish made that a bit difficult. He hesitated too long for it to be believable.

“No.” Dream’s brain was stuttering. He was trapped in his own lie. This was exactly what his mother always said would happen if you lied, you’d get trapped in it. “No?” George looked at him, smirking like an idiot. Asshole. Of course he would like watching Dream in misery, Sapnap was wrong about him.

“No.” They both stood there in the hall, Dream prayed for the bell to ring and give him an excuse to leave. The bell did not ring.

“Okay then. We’re doing English. For one, we both actually do it. And you need the help.” Before Dream could protest, George walked away. Dream wanted to punch him.

His mother didn’t take the news well. Most parents wouldn’t be over the moon hearing that their child was going to be in weekend detention for two months. Dream tried to spin it as a fun afternoon class but that plan was derailed when his dad came in holding the phone, with the principal on the other end of the line.

In school the next day, after spending twenty minutes complaining to his friends, Dream found George during lunch.

“Hey, I’m going to need your number.” Dream didn’t bother with manners. They were well past that point. He was just following the orders of his mother, who wanted them to co-operate completely. She figured Dream would need George’s number.

George looked up from his friends, eyebrows raised. When he saw Dream, he got up. They walked just a few steps away from the table.

“George, your number?” Dream just wanted to get it over with so he could go back to his friends and complain about the whole situation

“Oh yeah, it’s 08 fuck you 69.” George rolled his eyes, taking the phone from Dream’s hand.

He saved his contact under Gogy <3 and walked away. Dream was left scowling at George’s back.

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature: Language, threats of violence.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13] | [14] | [15] | [16] | [17] | [18] | [19]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking, @khaleesislytherin

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: The Path to Dead Man’s Farm.

It was worse than we’d thought.

As we drove along the interstate, watching the fields go by in a sepia blur, it became quite obvious that we were going to need more people to get this job done. Daryl rose ahead, a good few metres in front of Michonne, Glenn, and I in our little sedan. At our backs, Tyreese and his sister, Sasha, drove the truck a handful of car lengths behind. As our little convey grew closer to the turn off that lead down to the first farmhouse, we couldn’t help but notice the biters shuffling through the fields. They began to group together the further along we drove, forming denser packs, almost multiplying in numbers with each passing mile.

By the time the turn off came into view, we knew it was going to be next to impossible to make it down that damn dirt road.

Daryl pulled off to the side, rolling to a stop and lifting his hand to indicate we do the same. Michonne brought the car to a stop beside him and I rolled down my window, opening my mouth to speak but finding myself only able to grimace as the truck behind us came to a halt. The squeak of the breaks was loud enough to draw the attention of a few dozen biters within the fields to our right. Thankfully, as they stumbled toward us, the barbed wire fence made short work of stopping them.

“There’s gotta be more than two-hundred of ‘em,” Daryl remarked, gesturing with one hand toward the dirt road just in view over the slight hill before us.

“Well, I got thirty bullets,” I remarked with a soft grin. “So, I’ll just have to take out six or so for every shot. That’ll be a piece of cake, right?”

Daryl snorted but shook his head, anyway, just in case I was being serious. “Ain’t no way we’re cutting a path for the cars.”

I straightened in my seat in order to peer across Daryl, to the dirt road. Even from this distance, I could see the bobbing heads of biters, so numerous they all but shrouded the horizon with their numbers. A frown formed on my face as I turned to look at Michonne.

“Way I see it, we have two choices. Glenn and Sasha drive while the four of us cut down as many as we can,” I said. “Or, we go home.” And I use way too much magic to grow the crops and likely end up putting my moronic ass in a coma or something equally irritatingly stupid.

Michonne pursed her lips in thought, looking across me at Daryl and lifting a questioning brow. Glenn leant forwards, putting his head in the space between the two front seats and looking at us all in turn.

“Why do I have to drive?” he asked.

“You want the honest answer to that?” I responded, turning in my seat to look at him with a bemused grin. “Maggie would kill us if anything happened to you. Also, it would disappoint Hershel, which is somehow more terrifying a prospect than Maggie’s rage.”

Glenn snorted.

“Hershel will be disappointed if we push on when we know we shouldn’t,” Michonne said plainly, sinking back into her seat.

Behind us, Tyreese climbed out of the truck bed and made his way over to us, coming to a stop beside Daryl’s bike.

“What’s the game plan?” he asked, leaning down in order to peer through my open window at the rest of us.

I glanced at Michonne and Glenn before turning back to the other two with a shrug. “Fuck knows, mate.”

“We could take the truck through, run ‘em down?” Tyreese suggested.

I shook my head the same time Daryl said, “Nah.”

“It might work for a solid minute or two, but sooner or later, you’ll get bogged in corpses,” I said with a grimace. “Which, believe me, will not be pretty.”

Tyreese’s face scrunched into a cringe as he shook his head. “Yeah, maybe not.”

“We could lead them away?” Glenn suggested, giving me and Michonne a hopeful smile.

“Could work,” I responded. “How’d you go about it?”

Glenn glanced down at the sedan’s console, brows furrowing as he reached out a hand to play with one of the buttons on the dusty radio. “We could turn on the music? Lure them down?”

“If you’re comfortable with two-hundred undead groupies following you and your music along, sure,” I remarked with a chuckle.

Glenn frowned, leaning forward a fraction further to look up at Tyreese. “Does the radio work in the truck?”

“Yes,” I answered before Tyreese even had a chance to think on it. When I received a handful of confused looks, I glanced out the window at Daryl with a bemused chuckle. “Merle and I used to take it out on runs. We’d fight over the music.” My gaze slid back across to Tyreese as I gestured with my hand toward the truck itself. “There should be a couple of good ole tapes in the centre consol. Do not touch the ones that have an “M” written on them, unless you want your ears to bleed.”

Daryl snorted at that, which made me smile.

“Alright, I’ll get Sasha to drive to the opening of the road,” Tyreese began with a serious nod. “Once she’s cleared some of them out, the four of us will head down there and cut down what we can.”

“Four? What about me?” Glenn asked with a frown.

“You drive behind us,” I said, looking up at Tyreese to make sure that was where his head had been, too. “Watch our backs and give us an easy out if things get too much.”

Tyreese nodded, a smile slowly stretching across his face. “Exactly.”

We grinned at one another for a moment and I felt myself beginning to wonder if he was starting to believe I wasn’t quite as unnerving as he’d originally thought. The thought made my chest warm slightly. It was nice to think, even just for a moment, that maybe not everyone on the council agreed with Claire.

Daryl kicked the stand on his bike out and slid off the seat, walking around it to stand by my window as Tyreese strode down to the trunk in order to inform his sister of our plans. His eyes were narrowed slightly in the stream of sunlight that cast a hollow shadow across his face as he peered into the car.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he asked us.

I gave a confident nod, as did Michonne. Glenn seemed a little put out, but he lifted his head in response anyway. Daryl’s boots shuffled against the asphalt as he shifted his weight, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his nose in a sigh.

“Why, you scared, Little Dixon?” I asked, grinning cheekily up at him.

He cocked a thin brow and scoffed. “Like hell.”  

The sound of a slamming door behind us made him straighten, turning to look back as Tyreese made his way toward the car with a fire axe gripped tightly in both of his meaty hands. Daryl pulled his crossbow from his shoulder and stepped back to allow me space to exit the vehicle.

Michonne got out with me, stepping to the back to collect her blade as Glenn crawled through the centre to find his place in the driver’s seat.

“We set?” Tyreese asked, looking between us all as I unsheathed the two knives on my belt.

Michonne secured the strap of her sheath over his shoulders and nodded.

“Keen as a bean,” I remarked, skilfully spinning the two knives in my hands.

Tyreese looked down at them with a small frown before glancing down the road, waving a hand at his sister. Her head was barely visible above the dashboard of the truck as it rumbled to a start.

I looked down at my hands as I spun the knives, pursing my lips in thought. Often, I’d find myself wondering exactly what level of skill I should really be displaying in front of the others. After all, there was no one currently left alive that knew the truth of my previous profession. And I kind of wanted to keep it that way. Which meant, keeping a lid on the extent of my murderous abilities. However, could I truly hold myself back when doing so could potentially put Daryl or Michonne at risk?

These were the kinds of questions that kept me up at night.

As the truck peeled out from its position behind the sedan, Sasha wound down the window and hit play on the radio. Clear as day, loud enough to rattle the windows, the sound of Celine Dion’s voice cut through the silent air like a blade through a biters skull.

Instantly, everyone turned to look at me with a cocked brow. Even Daryl.

I pointed at him. “Don’t you look at me. That’s your brothers.”

His brows rose. “Bullshit.”

“Cross my heart.” My grin widened as Daryl’s look of confusion morphed into an amused smile.

“Bullshit,” he echoed, though more out of surprise than accusation.

“Never would have guessed,” Michonne remarked with an equally amused grin.

“He was a man of many mysteries,” I remarked, chuckling under my breath as I watched Sasha pull the truck over to the opening of the turn off.  

The biters along the road began to shuffle down toward her, kicking up a cloud of dirt as they moved in uncoordinated unison toward the loud sounds coming from the truck. We waited until Sasha had begun to pull away, leading a long line of undead behind her, before we began to move forward.

By the time we got there, Sasha was already almost half a mile down the road, a trail of biters following along to the sounds of Celine Dion’s voice. Glenn rolled to a stop at the opening of the road as Daryl lifted his crossbow and shot an arrow clear through the closest biter’s face. I began to march my way down the dirt path, twirling my knives until I came close enough to strike. Quick as a snake, I thrust my arm out, clearing the two biters on either side of me in one smooth motion. Before they had even hit the ground, I stepped forward, slashing upwards with one hand and slicing a biter’s face near in half before twisting around it to stab another pair through their eye sockets.

Michonne slashed along behind me, followed by Tyreese as he grunted and swung his axe down on biter after biter. Daryl remained a few paces back for the first few before shouldering the crossbow and using both his bowie knife and one of the loose arrows he’d pulled from a biter to clear the way.

Glenn remained at a safe distance, rolling the car along with us as we made slow progress up the dirt road.

The biters out in the fields had begun to shuffle their way over toward the road, too, catching themselves on the barbed wire fence like a group of flies attracted to honey. Though, the more of them that came, the less stable the fence became. I kept half an eye on the wooden posts holding the wire together as I cut my way through biter after biter, noting the way the ground behind the post began to move as the wood was pushed forwards.

We were far enough down the dirt road that the farmhouse was clear in view, barely half a mile away. All we needed to do was reach it before those fences gave way.

#

Luck, as it turned out, was not on our side.

We’d barely made it another ten or so feet down the dirt road before I heard the tell-tale sound of splintering wood. It was slight enough that I knew I was the only one that heard it, barely loud enough to catch my attention over the gargling biters and Tyreese, Michonne, and Daryl’s grunts of effort as they sliced and diced their way down the path.

I stabbed and slashed at the two biters between me and Daryl faster than what was likely humanly possible, reaching out to catch his arm. Before he could even turn to face me, I began yanking him backward, toward the car.

“Ty! Michonne! The car! Now!”

None of them argued. My tone of voice left no room for disagreement.

As we moved toward the car, I waved at Glen to move aside. He put the car in park and slid between the two seats, pushing open the door for Michonne and Ty to climb in beside him. I let go of Daryl only long enough for him to make a move toward the passenger’s side whilst I dove into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut on a biter’s outstretched hand. The thing fell into my lap but I paid it no mind as I shoved the car back into gear.

The sound of cracking wood echoed through the air outside, loud enough now that the others could hear it, even through the closed windows. It started behind us. Biters began to surge forward as the wooden posts gave way beneath their weight, trampling over the fallen barbed wire in their path as they went. A morbidly amusing thought came to mind as I watched the fence give way in the rear-view mirror, post after post. It was like a damn Mexican wave of undead, surging onto the dirt road.

I slammed my foot down on the gas, propelling us forward and into the gathered crowd of biters beyond. Bodies crashed against the bonnet of the car as we sped forwards, smashing into the windscreen, spreading spiderwebs across the glass and decorating them with leaking viscera. It got so bad that I could barely see through the layer of blood and gore, which wasn’t great, considering I was speeding forwards at sixty miles an hour down a short dirt road.

Thankfully, I was the one behind the wheel. My keen eyes and lightning fast reflexes enabled me to react at a rate far superior than the average human.

All it took was a glimpse, slight thought it was, to know where I was and what I needed to do. Without warning, I jerked the wheel to the side. The car slid out, drifting sideways down the last stretch of road, knocking back biter after biter until our speed was reduced to almost nothing.

We skid to a stop merely two feet away from the staircase that lead up to the farmhouse’s entrance. Daryl pushed his door open, lifting his crossbow and taking a blind shot at the biter hovering outside before pushing past it and leaping up the first stair.

Michonne, Glenn, and Ty slid out of the back, following Daryl up the staircase. Biters trailed behind them, too busy on their tail to notice that the door to the car had been left open and I was still inside.

There were too many of them for me to even attempt to get through, so I waited until I heard the front door slam open and then shut before I made my move.

I leant back in my seat and kicked out at the cracks in the windshield, shattering the glass with enough force to pop out the window’s frame. Cautiously, I climbed through and onto the bonnet. The metal was slick with blood. My boots barely had enough grip to counter it, though it thankfully made it a lot more difficult for the biters to climb up alongside me.

They noticed my presence instantly, turning away from the front door of the farmhouse and all but throwing themselves down the staircase toward me. From the road, more and more of them flooded forwards, crashing into the side of the car with enough force to rock it from side to side.

I almost lost my balance as I stepped toward the house, looking up at the overhanging eave that kept the porch shielded from the midday sun.

“Syn! Let me go! She’s still out there! Syn!”

I heard Daryl’s voice screaming from inside the farmhouse and swallowed back against my rising trepidation. The car was rocking violently now, as if I were standing atop a boat in the midst of an ocean storm.

Without thinking about how difficult a jump like this would have been for any regular person, I leapt, reaching my hands out to grip onto the eave’s guttering. Using my body’s momentum, I swung back, simultaneously using my grip to pull myself up and onto the overhanging roof. I scrambled up onto the tiles, cautious not to disrupt them from their placing as I climbed onto my feet.

I could hear rapid footfalls from inside, growing louder and louder until Daryl’s panicked face appeared through the glass of the second story window before me. He reached down and unlatched it, pulling half of the frame up as I made my way up the slight slant of the roof toward him.  

Once I was close enough, he stepped back to give me enough room to slide inside.

Michonne, Glenn and Ty appeared in the doorway of what appeared to be a teenage girl’s bedroom, their expressions of relief matched only by their exhausted laughs.

“Thought you were a goner for a second there,” Glenn remarked, stepping further in the room in order to slap a hand against my shoulder.

I snorted a laugh. “Ye of little faith.”

Tyreese, leaning against the doorframe, cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, here, but, uh… Now what?”

I pursed my lips as I turned in place to look back out the window I had climbed in through, taking in the ocean of biters that had rolled in from the fields. They had begun to surround the house, almost mindlessly, as if they were propelled by little more than the very basic need for movement.

“Good question.”

[salora-rainriver]

Gaycoding and You: a Useless Ramble about Milkshakes and 1950s Humor

Ok lemme just start out this Disk Horse by saying that y’all are fuckin fakers. There’s no fuckin way my whole dashboard was secretly hardcore Archies Comics fans who read every motherfuckin issue and have been following the exploits of the Riverdale Crew for years. Shut the fuck up, we all read the comics casually while waiting in line at the grocery store, and now that a dude is confirmed ace, you all basically did the discourse equivalent of pullin’ an all nighter the night before the midterm. 

I’m calling your fucking bluff, you ain’t intimately aware with ANY archies comics characters. Do y’all even know the name of that old lady who’s the teacher who has to deal with Archie n Juggy’s shit? the one who looks like a pencil with a cotton ball slapped on it? Cause I fuckin don’t. For all I know, she’s one of the fuckin Pearls from Stevens Universe, and she took a teaching job in this obnoxiously idyllic suburban neighborhood because she’s a masochist. 

So now that we’ve got that out of the way let’s move on to this alleged “gay coding,” 

Aight so in all the times I’ve read dem Archies Comics, Jughead’s basically been the dude who has 2 things on his mind: burger and nap. That’s it. Sometimes hes thinking of havin a milkshake with that burger. Nice cold 1950s diner style milkshake. His favorite napping spot is a hammock under two trees. It’s probably in his backyard or by the lake in the park and he just has that hammock permanently set up. Maybe he has multiple hammocks permanently set up around Riverdale and no one takes down the Jughead hammocks because that would be rude. In the carefree high school world of Archies Comics, where girls wanna date boys and boys wanna date girls (seriously there’s fuckin PAGES detailing the lighthearted yet completely overdramatic conflicts of archie, reggie, betty, veronica, and their Hetero Drama), Jughead is the quintessential Man Who Doesn’t Give A Single Fuck. As far as we know, he’s not even aware that schoolwork and romance and jobs exist. He literally doesn’t even look once at anything that other people build whole story arcs about. This is his character, this is the comedic trope he fills. He’s the straight man to Archie’s Hetero Bullshit, but he’s also the clown who’s amusingly uninterested in things he should be interested in. like his grades. get it together, Jughead. 

At least, that’s the impression I get from all those years casually readin Archies Comics while my mom loads the veggies on the conveyor belt. Who tf knows, maybe Mr Happy Meal Crown batted his eyelashes at Reggie and blew him a kiss like a big fat flami- aw who am i kidding, the only reason Jughead would bat his eyelashes is during Masochist Pearl’s class cuz he’s bored and wants to sleep. 

Anyways, Jughead’s character out of the way, we need to talk about this weird-ass idea that every single example of a male character refusing to date women is Gay Coding. 

Now I’ve mainly read only the Classical Literature that my middle n highschool teachers gave me to read, and not much else, but BOY HOWDY did I read the SHIT out of those. You’re talking about a girl who cried her ass off at the end of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, in a hotel lobby where people were starin at me like I was a weirdo. Point is, I paid more attention to those verbose messes than most ppl my age, cause I’m a nerd. 

And let’s get something straight. Lack of APPARENT attraction to a character of the opposite gender ISN’T gaycoding. And no I’m not saying this because of modern-day conceits like “someone not attracted to the opposite gender could simply not be attracted to ANY gender”, no you wet blanket, listen to me. 

If Mr. Hooke isn’t interested in marrying Ms. Fairweather, there’s three main reasons for that, and you can usually tell which one it is right off the fucking bat: 

- Hooke is Gay as Shit, and in love with his assistant, Sir Appleseed. You can tell because he’s always seen hanging out with Appleseed, and the two of them spend a lot of time together and regularly express affection for each other with words of praise. Also Appleseed’s like a decade younger and he’s very pretty. Very very pretty. A paragraph is written about how Appleseed has a lithe yet muscular body and nice abs. Any modern reader will giggle at how obnoxiously gay this is. People will debate at length on whether the author intended Mr. Hooke to look like such a fuckin flamer. 

- Hooke is straight, but he’s a misogynist intellectual who sees the advances of Ms. Fairweather as a distraction from his Deeply Important Work. Whenever someone mentions Ms. Fairweather or women in general, he speaks at length about how he refuses to give in to their succubus wiles, and how he has a greater purpose. He may also mock Fairweather’s perceived shallow desires. The modern reader soon starts to feel intense hatred for Mr. Hooke, because the dude is so fucking obnoxiously CONCEITED, SHUT THE FUCK UP, but victorian guys probably deeply respected the dude for his chosen celibacy. 

- Hooke is just a weirdass loner introvert. People confusedly ask him why he won’t marry Ms. Fairweather, and he just kinda ignores the question. He doesn’t seem to have a single opinion on the woman’s advances, and seems almost oblivious to them. The intent of the author was, of course, to portray Mr. Hooke as an eccentric man, and also maybe to push the idea that women are a drain on mankind’s intellectual pursuits. Or maybe the author just wanted to show how “weird” Hooke is for not wanting to get married. Either way, the modern reader will start desperately wanting to shake said author by the shoulders and shout “YOU WROTE AN ASEXUAL CHARACTER, YOU NITWIT!!!” 

The point I’m trying to make here is that merely not wanting to date the opposite gender isn’t gaycoding, it’s too fuckin ambiguous for that. Either the character’s gay, or they’re straight and also illustrating weirdass misogynistic cultural standards, or they’re just a fuckin weirdo, in a way that was probably meant to imply neurodivergency, let’s be real, but any modern reader would unanimously agree it’s probably just asexuality, written from the perspective of people who don’t realize that’s a thing that can exist, and it isn’t a weird nameless “fuck marriage” disorder. 

Anyways, 1950s is a bit different. In the context of Post WWII Oldies, specifically comedic comic books set in a suburban high school, if a dude doesn’t want to date, it’s more likely that the authors saw him as someone who was too dumb, ugly, lazy, or nerdy to ever get with a girl, so they made him uninterested in women just because it’s not very funny to see a dude get sad bcs no one will date him. We can feel better if we imagine they’re just uninterested. And That’s Jughead. He’s not coded gay, he’s coded as a nitwit food-obsessed lazeball, and if we’ll be honest, the original writers PROBABLY wrote him with Stoners in mind. 

Jughead’s not running through a literal maze of women to get to his precious delicious milkshake because he’s gay, my dudes. He’s doing it because he spent all morning fuckin Blazing it, and he’s got a fierce case of the munchies, and munchies waits for no girl. He’s got that in common with Norville Rogers, AKA Shaggy from Scooby Doo. WE HAVE SEEN THIS TROPE BEFORE.

Point of the matter is, when the writers made him ace, it’s because they decided maybe Jughead should be more than a cheap stoner joke who’s friends w/ Archie. He’s still a stoner joke, of course, but now he’s a stoner joke that also cleverly doubles as an example of the ace community injoke about cake. You know the one I’m talkin about. 

And that’s all folks.