#i am vaguely tipsy if you cannot tell

[doyouknowthis-grishaverse]

I'm going to do Doctor Who soon (adding it to the queue when this poll finishes) and the question is, should I do a poll for each Doctor? or just one poll encompassing all versions of the Doctor?

[vaguesxrrow]

can you PLEASE do a fic of different times the avengers find out something new about natasha. IK ITS REALLY RANDOM but i saw a prompt on PINTEREST. PINTEREST. AGES AGO and i cannot stop thinking about it. like it could be whilst shes drunk and doesnt stop talkin about secrets about herself she wouldnt usually say or like she'd tell them about the most concerning things ever happening to her in the red room and smile n shrug or smth. IDM ANY SHIPS so u can choose (or just none x). THIS IS REALLY RANDOM but THANK YOU if u actually end up writing this.

first marvel fic !! so glad it's a nat centric one bc i love her sm. that being said, i dont want to minimise how traumatic the red room was for her so im considering writing a p2 to this where she talks about it properly..

drunk natasha - blackhill

a/n: this is in the pov of tony, but there is maria/nat at the end. also all the avengers are there but sadly not all of then have dialogue :((

cws: talk of the red room (although unexplicit, pls be wary!)

wc: 492

tony probably shouldn't have spiked the booze.

how do you spike booze, you might be asking? well, if anyone asked, he would give a vague response like, "you can spike anything if you put your mind to it." if natasha romanoff - the person who had arguably been the most affected by it - asked, he would run away to save his life.

anyway, he probably shouldn't have spiked the booze, because now natasha - the person (excluding thor, steve, and bucky, because they had a biological advantage) with the highest alchohol tolerance of them all was tipsy, and rambling.

it was definitely a sight to behold.

"what booze is this?" natasha asked, for the third time that night. her russian accent was more prominent now that she was intoxicated. "oh! my favourite. when i was in the red room, one of my targets had this brand, and i... i poisoned it." her voice lowered to a whisper, and she giggled conspirationally.

tony, along with the other 5 avengers, froze. natasha had never talked about her time in the red room before, and he wasn't sure if she even wanted to now, or if it was the vodka making her loose-lipped.

bruce, who was the only one still semi-sober, began to protest. "nat, maybe you should-"

"it's fiiine, brucie." she waved him off, leaning into the cushioned couch. suddenly, she perked back up. "oh! another funny story, when i was out on a mission with another girl, we got drunk. i- i kissed her, and... it was on purpose, that time. before, we would have to kiss and stuff as part of the act, but with lyubov i wanted it."

"and stuff?" clint noted with concern. the archer had been the first to down 2 consecutive drinks, and also the first to lead a game of drunk pictionary, but now he seemed dead serious.

tony was 90% drunk himself, but even he was beginning to get worried about nat.

natasha smiled demurely, seemingly oblivious.

"how old were you?" tony blurted.

she thought about it for a while. "fourteen.” she began singing. “you just don't step inside to, to fourteen years. ha. that song was playing earlier." she made finger guns, pretending to shoot at tony while grinning. "guns n roses."

suddenly (and thankfully) maria walked in. natasha immediately greeted her girlfriend, demanding a kiss. maria complied, although it was chaste, and pulled away when nat tried to deepen it.

"what did you boys do to my girlfriend?" maria asked. "stark, i'm talking to you."

tony cringed. "i may have.. spiked the booze."

she narrowed her eyes. tony was prepared to kiss life goodbye then and there, but natasha sat up and hugged maria, awkwardly given their position. she looked down softly at her girlfriend, before giving tony another glare.

"i'm taking her back to our room," maria announced. "and i am never leaving her alone with you lot ever again."

“that's fair,” echoed steve softly.

[peacereturnedtothevalley]

I wrote an outline a month ago about what I think happened w brnine and jesset 5 years ago and never posted it , putting it here under the cut bc of mortifying ordeal etc

so: not sure if this is pre or post funeral/mourning, depends on when broun made up with jesset. I cannot find in the transcripts when brnine was suddenly cool with him again but I do remember that being on screen and kinda suspicious. Anyways:

Broun had been locked up in their room and not interacting with anyone for days, but one night jesset spots them about to leave for town.

He stops them and asks where they’re going. They say “None of your business.” and tries to leave but jesset is in the way. “Move.”

“Look, you can go just… We’re all worried about you. I don’t want to lose… We can’t afford to lose another person. Let me come with you.”

Broun sighs, resigned. They don’t forgive Jesset necessarily but they know he doesn’t deserve to be the target of their ire either. Blowing up at him before was…embarrassing.

“Fine. Whatever. I won’t stop you from tagging along.”

They go to some dive bar (I don’t remember icebreaker logistics but I assume they can get in land and go places).

They’re both seated at the bar and it’s very awkward. Broun asks for some strong drink and Jesset asks for the same. Broun rolls their eyes.

Drinks arrive. They down it in one shot and asks for another. Jesset tries to do the same but chokes on it immediately and starts coughing, making a small scene. Bartender is like “hey watch your friend there”

Broun pats his back and laughs for the first time and tension is alleviated a bit. Broun takes his drink and orders jesset something milder.

They’re drinking and talking about meaningless things for a while. Broun seems to never bring up Valence, even in stories where jesset know they were there, generally keeping it vague. He does not want to step on any toes at this point so he follows suit and avoids mentioning them also.

Eventually, the bartender cuts Broun off and tells them to go home. Jesset is tipsy too but slightly more stable than Broun so he offers his shoulder to them and they don’t refuse, clinging to him as they stumble back to base.

They get to Broun’s quarters, Broun fumbles trying to unlock the door and once they finally manage, Jesset helps get them to their bed

He says let me get you some water but they don’t let go of his arms, says “wait”, he ends up seated on the bed next to them

He’s looking at their face, they looked flushed and they’re staring back intently, getting closer, and he’s getting closer too, pulled in by Something (the effect)

They kiss, lightly at first, pausing for a moment with their foreheads together, and they start again, much hungrier this time. They’re fully making out now, hands roaming aimlessly, broun climbing onto jesset’s lap. After some moments Jesset starts feeling some droplets on his face, he opens his eyes and see that Broun is crying.

He stops the kissing and asks if they’re okay. They wipe their tears with their sleeve and say yeah just keep going somethings just in my eye. But he makes them stop, says “We don’t have to do this.”

They do back down, and they’re quietly sitting next to each other for a moment.

Finally, he breaks the silence with “Do you want to talk about Valence? I want to talk about Valence.”

”We’ve talked plenty about them.”

”Then can I talk about them.”

Broun sighs but is silent and lets him continue. They’ve both slumped to the floor in front of the bed now and jesset tells a story about Valence during all the election stuff that Broun never heard about. Broun then finally talks about Valence a bit. Eventually at like 5 am, they fall asleep on jesset’s shoulder. He helps them into bed and leaves.

They’re like fine now after this but have Not spoken about that night since and it’s been 5 years. This might be the last time Brnine talked about Valence with someone also.

There’s a slight awkwardness for a bit right after but eventually there’s a fondness on both sides…. No time to actually do anything about it tho. Yet(?)

[yellowfingcr]

Nervous is a thing Heysel hasn’t been in decades.

Nervousness was a dead thing before her death and her return twice buried it, but today she is glad and thrilled enough to decide to unearth the feeling from the bone cellar of her chest and uncork it in gleeful celebration. She feels it course quick through her nerves, lets it out through her fingers, fidgeting with the seal kept in one hand and twirling her staff in the other as she sits folded upon her legs before the Onyx Lord, who, on the other side, remains as boulder-still and stone-static as ever, with just the faintest shadow of a smile chiseled across the corners of his gray mouth as he observes her. 

They wait, together, for the sky light to drain into purple dusk. When it happens, they both stand, leaves crunching under their feet, and stare, and he asks a silent question that Heysel answers with spoken word: I am ready. 

The Lord nods. He reaches out; cradles her face; ritually kisses her brow, formal and unhurried. And then lowers his head enough for her to do the same, and she does. He is the coldest and oldest thing her lips have ever brushed upon. 

To each their instrument of cutting. The lord grasps his sword. The assassin, her staff. It is a long tedious process to cast the spell he has taught her, for it is complex and it is her first time doing so, but she remains focused as she weaves it into life, his magic stitching any points of imprecision. And then, soon enough, through gravity and effort, a hole in the world breaks open.

It’s far less spectacular than she recalled, now that she has time to properly look at it- all this time she’d remembered a momentary absence of reality torn and tattered at the edges, as if bitten through, a hole harshly punctured by one of her jagged knives; but what crackles before her resembles instead a miniature storm, black smoke rippling like water, shot through with capillaries of electric purple that shine onto the golden grass below it. It snaps, it drones, it is all but silent. It almost feels alive.

The Lord says: There we are. For so many days and so many months I told you stories. I name you she who narrates: what story will you tell me, today?

Heysel thinks about deep wells in the night, thinks about coins tossed inside it, carrying quiet hopes where no one can see. She clears her throat. She says: I will now tell you a story of a woman who made a wish.

Hmm, he comments, his eyes narrowing with silent mirth. Flashes of violet fall bright across the many lines on his skin. Alas I have neither black paper nor silver chalk. I’ll have to listen without annotation.

And Heysel only snorts, tipsy on nervousness, and then inhales, and then exhales, and through the seal between her fingers calls forth the familiar flames that will center her through everything. Pain bursts through her, collects in her skull, behind the gelatine within her sockets- then pours out and out, impossibly hot. She chokes back a shout. The Lord’s long hard palm closes over her eyes as her nerves sear and tense; if he is hurt because of her flames, he is unmoved. Under the shield of the stone of him all goes black. And in the darkness, they move together one step, and then another, and then they are inside the storm.

Inside her ears there is a pop. At first nothing happens that Heysel, unseeing, perceives as new. 

Then the agony begins.

She cannot explain it. She cannot grasp it. It is neither thing of the flesh or the mind. It’s simultaneously infinitely smaller and far larger than she. It is her, the wholeness of her, the entirety of the woman named Heysel, all her atoms and every concept and memory and all she represents and was and will be recoiling under the pressure of a single question, asked by the void of voids, this nothing place between the organs of reality: are you real?

Vaguely, faintly, she feels the echo of a coppery taste in the back of her throat, and understands that she’s been screaming herself to bleeding, though she cannot tell for how long. What perception she has left grasps the pin-small epicenter of frenzied fire pain with all her strength. She was right: the hinge of it keeps her from wholesale undoing, if barely. He was right: it is unbearable.

The hand over her eyes remains.

It’s ontological. It’s the dynamics of the laws of nothing, awakened by your mass, bending to welcome you. Not the way skin parts for the thorn, Heysel. The way the mouth parts for a kiss. This is the first knock. It will keep knocking. You must keep the door closed. You must. No matter how much you’d love to open it.

And as they proceed across this tunnel she cannot witness for a moment there is she and her fire walking across the blackness, and she is not a woman but a comet. 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you, she hears him say, gently. Somehow they are moving still, though her legs shudder more and more with each passing second. He sounds buried under earth and water, far from her. Or maybe she is the one entombed. But the good news is that it won’t be like this again. You will learn this place and it will learn you. Just some more. 

The flames retreat, and that lone hinge, too, dissolves.

She is on the precipice of delirium, she realizes. She is real. She is real. Is she real? It is hard to say yes and yes when she knows it hasn’t been a whole truth in so very long. Ghost-Heysel, who walks alone along the spine of the hill. Heysel, free and gone as unstrung kite in the wind. Heysel who cut the tether. Coin Heysel falling forever inside the well. Heysel who could forfeit any weight and all the smallest littlest components of her, disassemble here into dust soft as kindness, remain as a most loved secret between interstices, become the very gravity of stars. 

The spell won’t shatter, but you must do the same. You are still telling your story, says the Lord. Don’t stop now. You can’t.

Heysel who grits her teeth and says not with her voice No! I am selfish and I cede nothing of me! I am something! I am a coincidence of borrowed particles that one day will be gone and return all my bones and blood and dust but not now! My heart beats! I breathe! I am the wishing woman! I am real! I am real!

I am-

And then she tumbles forward, and the hand over her eyes lifts and with it the darkness, and she finds herself kneeling and panting in shallow water.

Blue extends velvety and cold in all directions. Trees and crystals jut out of its misted surface. Birds chirp between branches. Greenery and beauty. Life, assembled in geometries of color, reflecting light. Her, existing to witness it.

The aftermath of a sob rocks her. She doesn’t recall starting to cry.

Oh, gods. Oh gods, she chokes, and it sounds half like laughter. We did it. 

You did it, replies the Lord, lowering himself to a crouch next to her. Ah, from the Plateau to Liurnia. Haven’t been here in quite some time.

Thank you for the story.

More strangled laughter. And, turning to face him, her smile wide and proud and breathing quick, she promptly loses consciousness.

[hd-learns-korean]

Musical Monday's Week 3!

Hello All! Happy Monday, I hope you had a brilliant weekend and are on track for a beautiful week ahead.

Today I'm back with another music inspired study post.

No jokes when I say this song is FIRE! I love it so much!

Song: My First and Last (마지막 ��사랑)

Artist: NCT Dream

Song Recommended by: tell-tale-taeil

My thoughts on this song: If you wanna dance around and sing like you're staring in your own Kpop concert, then this song is for you! It's so good and has such a feel good vibe to it. Love it. 🎤🎵😍

Notes: I am not 100% fluent in Korean and use these study posts to help me practice writing and translating. I've done my best to quadruple check info, but there still may be some mistakes. If you spot any, or a better way to translate please lemme know so I can correct them! Thank you!

Translation notes: I have included a mixture of my own sentences, papago translations and Naver dictionary examples. Where sentences are not my own, I have labelled where they are sourced from.

Right then party people, shall we get this study session started?!

VOCABULARY:

보이다 be seen/ come into sight/ appear

Present Tense: 보여요

Past Tense: 보였어요

Future Tense: 보일 거예요

Nominal: 보임

흥미를 보이다 show interest/ express an interest (Naver)

요즘 그는 피아노 연주에 흥미를 보여요. He is interested in playing the piano these days.

본을 보이다 set an example/ serve as a model (Naver)

모범을 보이다 set a (good) example for somebody (Naver)

미나 씨는 이 아이들에게 좋은 모범을 보이고 있어요. Mina is setting a good example for these children.

첫선을 보이다 make a debut (Naver)

저희가 2월에 첫선을 보일 거예요! We will debut in February!// We're going to perform for the first time in February!

열의를 보이다 Show enthusiasm (Naver)

그의 정말 열의를 보이고 있는 것 같아요. I think he's showing real enthusiasm.

시큰둥한 반응을 보이다 show a lukewarm reaction. Show an indifferent reaction. (Naver)

가수에게 관객은 시큰둥한 반응을 보였어요. The audience showed a sour reaction to the singer. The audience gave a lukewarm reaction to the singer.

적히다 be written down/ be noted down/ to be blacklisted

Present Tense: 적혀요

Past Tense: 적혔어요

Future Tense: 적힐 거예요

Nominal: 적힘

저기 있는 카페 간판에는 뭐라고 적혀 있어요? What's written on the cafe sign over there? (Modified Naver example)

메모에 전화를 건 사람의 이름과 전화번호가 적혀 있었다. The caller's name and phone number were written on the memo. (Naver)

죄성합니다, 이름은 명단에 안 있는 적혔어요. I'm sorry, your name is not on the list.

설명 explanation/ account/ give an explanation (of)

설명 자막 A subtitle/ a cut-in (Naver) Description Subtitles

화면 아래에는 설명 자막을 있어요. At the bottom of the screen there is an explanation caption. (There are subtitles at the bottom of the screen)

오늘에서 무슨 봤는 간단히 설명해주세요. Briefly explain what you saw today. (My version)

오늘 본 내용을 간략하게 설명해 주세요. Please briefly explain what you saw today.

(papago version)

장황하게 설명하다 Give a long winded/ lengthy/ rambling explanation. (Naver)

장황하게 설명하지 마세요. Don’t give me a long winded explanation.

개략을 설명하다 give an outline/ general explanation (Naver)

부러워하다 envy/ be envious of

Present Tense: 부러워해요

Past Tense: 부러워했어요

Future Tense: 부러워할 거예요

Nominal: 부러워함

저는 미나의 요리 실력을 부러워해요. I envy Mina's cooking skills.

저는 유나의 노래 재능을 부러워해요. I envy Yuna's talent for singing.

알딸딸하다 tipsy (Informal)

Present Tense: 알딸딸해요

Past Tense: 알딸딸했어요

Future Tense: 알딸딸할 거예요

Nominal: 알딸딸함

난 좀 알딸딸해. I’m a little tipsy.

난 좀 기분이 알딸딸하다. I feel a little tipsy.

취하다 be drunk/ Figurative use = To be enchanted/ to be intoxicated/ be immersed in

Present Tense: 취해요

Past Tense: 취했어요

어젯밤 넌 진짜 취했어! You were really drunk last night!

그 아저씨가 취한 것 같아요? Do you think he’s drunk?

그 아저씨는 취한 것 같아요? Does he look drunk?

확실하다 sure/ certain/ confident/ positive/ definite

Present Tense: 확실해요

Past Tense: 확실했어

Future Tense: 확실할 거예요

확실한 입장을 취하다 To take a firm line/ stand on (Naver)

확실한 투자 a sound/ solid/ secure investment (Naver)

사장님, 확실한 투자인 것 같습니까? Boss, do you think it’s a solid investment?

확실한 증거 conclusive evidence (Naver)

확실한 것은 말할 수 없다 I cannot say for certain (Naver)

살펴보다 examine/ search for/ look into

Present Tense: 살펴봐요

Past Tense: 살펴봤어요

Future Tense: 살펴볼 거예요

문이 잘 잠겼나 살펴봤어요? Did you check to see if the door was locked?

면밀히 살펴보다 minutely examine (Naver)

되돌리다 restore/ return/ give something back/ set back/ put back

Present Tense: 되돌려요

Past Tense: 되돌렸어요

Future Tense: 되돌릴 거예요

집주인이 계약금을 되돌려 주지 않았서 난 지금 진짜 화나! I'm really angry right now because the landlord didn't return the down payment.

살피다 take a good look at/ watch/ observe/ inspect closely/ judge

Present Tense: 살펴요

Past Tense: 살폈어요

Future Tense: 살필 거예요

표정을 살피다 study/ read somebody’s face (Naver)

미나는 사장님의 눈치를 살폈어요. Mina checked her boss’s mood. Mina tread on eggshells around her boss.

심중을 살피다 take a look at what’s in one’s heart/ read a persons mind. (Naver)

할머니, 왜 창밖을 살펴고 있어요? Grandma, why are you looking out the window? Grandma why are you peeping out of the window?

의향을 살피다 Sound out/ try to find out somebody’s intentions (Naver)

Miscellaneous Interesting Things I Found In This Song:

Difference between 살펴보다 & 살피다:

Both mean to 'look'

However 살펴보다 is a compound verb comprising of 살피다 + 보다

살피다 = To look

Therefore 살펴보다 gives the meaning of to look more closely/ to examine.

Both practically mean the same thing.

GRAMMAR:

ㄴ/는 것 같다

It seems that….

I think that….

To express a guess that has some substance to it. The speaker is fairly certain of the facts.

Usually something the speaker knows but doesn’t want to seem tactless or blunt, the speaker is trying to be polite.

Speaker is politely and gently giving their opinion

Can also be used to express that the speaker has already experienced something.

Note: ㄴ 것 같다 Shows past tense for verbs

았/었/ 했 는 것 같다 Shows present tense for verbs

ㄴ 것 같다 present tense for adjectives.

To say I thought that, I felt that: Conjugate ㄴ/는 것 같다 into ㄴ/는 것 같았어(요)

Examples found in this song:

Oh 내게도 온 것 같아 Oh I think it came to me too

너에게 취한 것 같아 I think I’m drunk on you

ㄹ/을 것 같다:

The speaker is less certain of the facts

A vague guess

The speaker is being presumptive about the future

with a noun = N + 일 것 같다

ADJ./V = ADJ./V + (으)ㄹ 것 같다

Examples found in this song:

가슴이 곧 터져 버릴 것 같아 I feel like my heart will burst soon – it seems like my heart will burst soon.

I will be creating a separate grammar post for the grammar listed above, otherwise this post would be too long!

However I'd like to recommend a youtuber that covers this topic and her video is really good! It helped me grasp the topic and she gives a really useful and in depth explanation with great examples!

Check out this video on Youtube by youtuber Korean Jream

“Korean Noun Modifying Form ~(으)ㄴ/는/(으)ㄹ, with 것 같다 | Intermediate Korean Grammar"

There we go everyone study list complete! I hope you had fun studying with musical monday's and found this post helpful. Did you like the song choice? I hope so!

As always everyone

Stay safe, have a beautiful day, and Happy Studying! X

Sources: Naver dictionary, Papago translation, verbix.com, Korean Jream (Youtube)

Image Source: Background Image is not my own, it is sourced from unsplash.com. All credits go to the original creator. However I have edited it and added my own text.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 22

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: a chapter entirely from Héctor’s POV because it was about time.

***

“You know, when you two become really famous - and trust me, you will - I think Ernesto is going to be every bodyguard’s worst nightmare.”

“Huh?” Héctor finishes gulping down nearly the entire water bottle he was handed as soon as he walked backstage and turns to look at Armando, who is looking out through a gap in the curtain with a chuckle.

“You know, mingling with the crowd like that, taking selfies with absolutely everyone.” Their manager vaguely gestures to the scene Héctor cannot see, but can definitely imagine. He can hear the laughter outside, clamoring, people calling out Ernesto’s name. More than a few are calling his own, too, and Héctor would lie if he said he wasn’t flattered… but he really needs some more water before he can even think of going anywhere without risk of collapsing. 

He shrugs, tilting up the bottle so he can get the last few drops of water over his head. It was a pretty intense performance, and euphoria aside it’s left him feeling as though he walked a few miles in a desert. “Ah, he’s always done that. You know him by now, he loves an adoring crowd. He’s still getting used to success.”

“You two are on track to get far bigger crowds than this soon,” Armando laughs, letting go of the curtain. “He’d be out there all night taking selfies, then. And being an absolute security nightmare, as I said. But that will be the problem of whoever we hire for security, all things considered.”

Héctor laughs, drying off some sweat off the back of his neck with the towel a stagehand - Raúl, wasn’t it? He always feels bad when he can’t remember someone’s name - just handed him. “Ay, maybe by then he’ll be used to it and he’ll be content to keep away and let them fight each other for a chance to get a glimpse,” he says, and shrugs. “I can see him playing hard to get to. Want me to go out and tell him we need to head back?”

“Ah, no need. He’s heading back.” Armando mutters, and covers his mouth with the back of a hand before yawning. “I don’t know how you two do this. I am ready to collapse and I didn’t have to leap across the stage for two hours while singing and playing.”

“I’m more tired than I look, and I bet so is Ernesto. ” Héctor laughs, choosing not to mention how offended would be if he heard someone referring to his dancing as ‘leaping across the stage’. 

“He doesn’t look tired at all.”

“Oh, he is, or else he wouldn’t be heading back. And after only twenty minutes in the crowd? Must be exhausted.” Héctor throws the empty bottle towards the bin, and grins when it gets right in - a perfect shot. “He’s just never going to show it if it kills him.”

***

“Ay, mi amigo, this concert killed me.”

“Por Dios, you really are getting old.”

“Chingate.”

“Is that a white hair I see?”

“There is no white hair.”

“Oh, and how can you be so su--”

“I check every morning and get rid of them.”

“Ah,” Héctor says, letting himself drop on his bed. They have each their separate room, actually - they have joked over not having to share one anymore is a tangible sign they are making more and more money - but they always had a tradition to have a toast together in their room after each performance, and neither is willing to put a stop to it.

This is going to be far from their first toast of the evening, and likely they’ll have more than one, so Héctor decides it would be wise to call home and say hi to Imelda and Coco before he is completely wasted. He pulls out his phone and calls while Ernesto is busy filling the glasses, smiling broadly, waiting for his wife’s face to pop up on the screen. 

What does pop up on the screen is a big, toothless smile. 

“Babababababa!” Coco exclaims, clearly her favorite thing to say. Héctor likes to think, with no small amount of optimism, that she is trying to say papá.

His smile becomes, if possible, even broader. “Coco! Mi vida! Where’s--” he trails off when a long, pink tongue suddenly appears on screen to slap her wetly across the face. Sometimes Héctor has to wonder if Dante is indeed a Xolo or if he happens to be crossed with something else entirely, like a chameleon or an anteater. There is no way that is a normal dog tongue. 

Coco seems unconcerned, however, and reacts to the tongue slathering half her face in drool with gales of laughter. There is more laughter, and the camera turns away from the scene to show a still snickering Imelda. “She wanted to see her-- Dante, down now-- her papá, I figured you’d like-- I said down!-- to say hi.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for her to be up?” Ernesto speaks up, sitting next to Héctor with a full glass in each hand. Whatever he used to keep his hair in place is beginning to give up, his jacket is off and the first few buttons of the shirt are undone, but he still looks much more elegant than Héctor, who rather looks like he has walked out of a bad argument with security. Effortlessly handsome as always. 

And Héctor is almost tipsy enough to say as much aloud.

On the screen, Imelda rolls her eyes while pushing back the hair that has escaped her bun with her free hand. Héctor can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. “Héctor, call a priest. Someone’s got to chase my mother out of his body.”

As Héctor lets out a sound that is half a snort and half a laugh, Ernesto raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. But when I sing a bit too loudly and wake her up, I am the bad guy.”

“You are after we spent two hours making her fall asleep,” Imelda points out. 

To be entirely fair, Ernesto usually means well. Coco loves listening to her parents singing, and has fallen asleep to their voices almost every evening, but with Ernesto it is a different story. Not that she doesn’t love listening to him too - she does - but his voice seems to make her want to do anything but sleep. She gets excited, bouncing and flailing all limbs like she’s trying to dance before she can even sit up on her own.

Ernesto makes a face. In the background, Héctor can hear the sound of Coco’s ceaseless cooing, some yapping that is probably an argument among the chihuahuas, and a thumping sound that he assumes has got to be Dante’s tail hitting the floor at a fast pace. 

“She’s not asleep now though, and it’s not my fault.”

“She has been fussy all evening, I couldn’t get her to sleep. As much as I would love to blame the tiny terrors you insist on calling dogs, I think she’s looking for you two.”

The thought of Coco looking for him is both adorable and somehow the most heart-breaking thing Héctor has ever heard, or so it feels at the moment. He is not tipsy enough to downright tell Ernesto he looks ridiculously handsome and open that can of worms they all keep ignoring is even there, but he is tipsy enough to tear up. “Ay, let me speak with her-- papá is going to be home soon, Coquito! I promise! I’ll make it up to you! Write a brand new song! And a present!”

“Por Dios, Héctor, you have been away three days…”

“It feels like such a long time!” Héctor protests. 

“Babababababa!” Coco declares on the other side of the line. 

“Heard that? She agrees! Imelda, let her see me again…!”

She does, and there are a few minutes of cooing back and forth. Ernesto doesn’t join the cooing, but he does smile and even wave at Coco when he forgets to feign annoyance. Eventually Imelda laughs, declares it enough, and lifts the phone to look into the camera again. “How did the concert go?”

Héctor is happy to let Ernesto do the talking there, let him gloat about how big everything was, how dazzling, how successful, how wild the crowd went. It’s nice seeing him so excited: occasions like this are when he’s at his happiest. It actually takes him some effort not to stare at him as he talks… and he notices, with a glance at the screen, that Imelda is indeed staring at him with a soft look Héctor knows well. Ernesto doesn’t seem to notice, too taken describing the applause they got; Héctor feels something much like a lump forming in his throat for a moment. 

Last time they had a video call with Imelda while away for a concert this long, they did a lot more than talk. They put up a really good show for her, really.

Héctor makes a very conscious effort not to think about that, and downs the glass Ernesto filled for him with a gulp. It helps, and it also gives him an excuse to get up and move a few steps away to the liquor cabinet. He’s refilling the glass when Ernesto bids Imelda goodnight and holds out the phone for him to take. He smiles at her.

“Mi amor! Would you like me to sing for Coco? As a last resort?”

“Ah, that may help. I can’t seem to be able to make her settle…”

“I can sing,” Ernesto offers.

“Don’t,” both Héctor and Imelda say immediately, and Ernesto throws up his hands, leaning back against the wall.

“Ay, my art is not understood here,” he mutters, and downs his own glass, entirely forgetting about the toast they had been planning. He doesn’t protest further, however, and just leans back, listening as Héctor sings at Coco through the phone. To Héctor’s immense pride, Coco does finally settle down to sleep.

“You should write this one down,” Ernesto muttered after they have bid Imelda goodnight and the call has ended. He’s filling the glass again, and he empties it in one gulp. “Would be a success.”

“Ah, that’s just a lullaby I came up with for her.” Héctor sits with his own glass, and drinks about half of it. “I don’t think it suits our style, anyway.”

“We can liven it up a little.”

“I’d rather not. I haven’t finalized it yet, but it’s… I don’t think I’d want to share that with crowds. Which, if Armando is to be believed, will keep getting bigger and bigger.”

Ernesto lets out a laugh that almost sounds like braying. He is getting drunk all right. “Hah! Of course we will. To success!” he adds, lifting the glass before bringing it to his mouth without apparently realizing it’s empty. The look of pure disappointment on his face is enough to make Héctor burst laughing, sitting down heavily beside him and leaning against his side. Ernesto scoffs. “Hey, stop that--”

There is some squabbling, a glass falls thankfully without shattering, hands are slapped away and hair is ruffled. By the end of it they’re both snickering and laying against each other, like they had the first time they got drunk on a bottle they had stolen from Ernesto’s father’s stash and drank in secret in old Rafael’s orchard as kids. Well, as a kid and a young teenager respectively. Ay, Ernesto was always such a bad example. He should tell him that. Actually, he will. 

“You know,” Héctor mutters, turning. “You were always such a bad exa--” he trails off, realizing belatedly that Ernesto is looking at him, no longer smiling but wistful, in a way only someone with all walls down can. Their faces are close, and Héctor’s smile fades. They stare at each other and something aches, the sense of absence he has been trying to ignore. 

He is happy with the life he has, but sometimes he... and Imelda, he’s sure, they just lay there and try to ignore the empty space beside them in the bed. If he only leans in… if he just--

“I think I should go lay down in my room,” Ernesto says abruptly, and stands just as suddenly, almost toppling back as a result. His skin is flushed, and his eyes are darting across the room, never pausing on Héctor. “It’s-- late. Yes. Late. We have the plane early tomorrow.”

It doesn’t depart until midday.

“... You know you can stay here. If you’re too drunk to make it back to your room,” he adds quickly with an unconvincing smile, as though that can in any way hide what he truly means. 

We could. If we want. If you want.

“I…” Ernesto hesitates, his gaze finally resting on Héctor. A look of painful yearning crosses his face for a moment before he turns away. “Had a glass too many, but I can make it to my room. I’ll see you in the morning,” he mumbles, and makes for the door, as quickly as his unsteady feet can get him. 

“Ernesto,” Héctor calls out, heart beating somewhere in his throat. He stops at the door, back rigid, and doesn’t turn when Héctor speaks again. “I meant it. If… if you want--”

“This isn’t about me,” Ernesto cuts him off, his voice unsteady as his gait. Something sinks in Héctor’s chest just as his best friend mutters a ‘good night’ and yanks the door open, quickly stepping out. The clack as it shuts again seems to reverberate in the room. What he means, what they both know, hangs unspoken and heavy in the room long after he’s stumbled out of the door, leaving Héctor alone with an empty glass, an empty gaze, and empty bed.

It wouldn’t be the same. For either of us. 

As he lays in the middle of a king-sized bed, empty spots at either side of him, Héctor finds himself unable to sleep. He wonders how Ernesto bears it, trying to sleep every night with that emptiness around him. Héctor will soon be home, and one spot by his side will be filled again - but the other one will remain empty, a gap he and Imelda have been trying to ignore for far too long. How much longer?, Héctor has asked himself more than once, and he finds he has the answer now.

No longer.

***

When Imelda picked Ceci as Coco’s godmother, Héctor had a few concerns. 

Not that he didn’t think she would be happy to be asked - she was - or that he doubted she would take the role very seriously - she did - but he mostly wondered how she would get along with Ernesto when it came to organizing… everything that godparents are meant to organize together. As it turns out, the answer is ‘not very well’.

“Can you hurry up and take the measurements already? She’s drooling all over my hand!”

“I’m trying, but as you are unable to keep her still--”

“Why don’t you try to keep a baby still?”

“Because then I’d have to leave the measurements to you and you’d make a mess out of it.”

“Gagagagagagaga!”

“See, she agrees with me.”

By his side, an ear to the door and a hand over her mouth, Imelda is trying with all her might to stifle the giggles that shake her frame. Héctor bites back a laugh himself, takes a mental note to tell Imelda picking Ceci was a great idea, and keeps listening.

“She’s not agreeing with-- ugh. This is stupid. Can’t we just buy her the ropón like any normal godparents?”

Ceci gasps as though she just heard him suggest they should throw her in the baptism water naked as the day she came out of the womb, and possibly leave her to drown.

“There is no way my goddaughter is going to wear a store-bought ropón. I will make her one. All you need to do is keep her still now, and buy her a decent gold medal. Not silver, you cheapskate. Gold.”

“Me, a cheapskate!” Ernesto couldn’t sound more insulted if she accused him of stealing candy from children. Which he has done on a couple of occasions, Héctor recalls. “For your information, now that my career is well on the way I spare no expenses.” Well, some expenses, but they are getting more money than ever before now and there will be more in the future, Armando tells them. “I think silver is more elegant, is all.”

“What does a baby care about elegance?”

“I don’t know, why does the crazy seamstress need to make her a ropón from scratch?” 

“Bababababa!”

“See, now she’s agreeing with me!”

Ceci’s response is a barrage of expletives that have absolutely no business being uttered in the presence of anybody below the age of twenty-one, and Imelda would normally throw the door open to make her displeasure known... but Ceci could always get away with more than most. That, and Imelda is too busy snickering in her hand.

Ah well. It’s not like Coco is old enough to learn the words she’s hearing now, after all. 

“Are you sure they won’t kill each other during the ceremony?” Héctor sniggers, and Imelda grins back.

“They know that if they try I’ll bring them back and kill them again.”

“Heh, true. Guess it’s a good thing Ernesto is fine with coming to Santa Cecilia now,” Héctor says. Not that it has kept him awake at night, but he and Imelda had always known they would want their children to be christened in their old parish in Santa Cecilia, more out of tradition than anything else… and the godfather being allergic to the entire town may have made things tense. “Still can’t believe old Estéban actually went dry.”

“I guess people change,” Imelda mutters, but the smile on her face is different - more muted, somewhat melancholy as she keeps looking at the door behind which Ernesto and Ceci are still squabbling over Coco’s delighted squeals. She doesn’t need to say anything more for Héctor to guess exactly what she’s thinking.

He did, too.

This is not about me, he said, and he meant it. The man he was before, the man Imelda rightfully argued would never be able to put Coco’s needs or indeed anyone else’s wishes before his own, would have never uttered those words.

“... Yes. They do change,” he finds himself saying, very quietly. 

There is silence and there it is, the thing that has been hanging between them for a good while now and which neither has spoken of. There are probably better moments to finally talk about it than now, with the man in question in the next room over squabbling with his co-godparent, but Héctor knows that they have waited long enough. 

“I’ll make some coffee,” is all Imelda says, and he follows her to the kitchen. There is a brief silence while she prepares the coffee machine, and then she breaks it. “So… nothing happened these past three nights?”

“No, nothing,” Héctor says quietly, sitting at the table. Not out of lack of want or opportunity it just-- did not. Much like Ernesto hasn’t been seeing anyone else, and entirely ignored a dancer’s honestly rather clumsy attempt at flirting the previous week. Not for lack of opportunity, but he just… did not. 

“You know I do not mind,” Imelda says, her voice still very quiet. “Surely he still wants you. And you do want him. I mean--”

“You do too,” Héctor replies, and reaches over to take her hand, pulling her gently towards him. She looks down, and their gazes meet. “And it seems-- unfair. Without you.”

“Unfair?”

“It is not the same. It was one thing when we were all in it together, without you it would feel...” he tries to find an appropriate word, fails - congratulations, songwriter - and sighs. “Not the same thing. I’d rather keep the memory of what we had rather than risk ruining it by forcing some kind of imitation. And I think he feels the same. When I had a moment and tried to suggest we… he was the one who stepped out.”

She smiles faintly, stroking back his hair. “So I am included in the package, then?”

A chuckle, and he wraps his arms around her torso before craning his neck to keep looking up, chin resting over her chest. “You created the package, Imelda.”

“I recall. Not how I expected the evening to go. I only wanted to shut his mouth.”

“I mean, I also did that.”

“True.” She is quiet a few moments, her fingers running through his locks. “... You know why I felt-- it needed to end.”

“I know.”

“The priority must be Coco now, and I thought - I knew - that Ernesto would not have been able to accept that. Take the backseat when needed to make sure her upbringing is as normal as it can possibly be.”

“... I keep picking up a past tense.”

Imelda’s hand pauses in his hair. She looks at him in the eye, her gaze soft. Thoughtful. “He did change. I think he will make a fine godfather.”

“Are you considering…?”

“I am. If he’s willing to give another try. And if you are.”

“... Yes. But we are all in this or no one is, so it is your decision. I know there may be challenges if, well... people finding out, or when Coco asks for an explanation growing up, or-- if anyone mocks her for it, I don’t know what I would--”

“We don’t need to scream it from the rooftops,” Imelda says, and resumes stroking his hair. “It is no one’s business but our own. Neither should we go out of our way to hide. We’re doing nothing wrong.”

Héctor holds her a little tighter. “I know. But if you still feel it is best for Coco, both Ernesto and I understand.”

“It is Coco I am thinking about.” She cuts him off, and sighs. “Well-- her as well. I have been wondering, should she somehow find out either way what there has been between the three of us - I know it’s near impossible unless we tell her, but just imagine - what would we be teaching her?” The hand in Héctor’s hair pauses, and she looks down at him. “That no matter if she’s doing nothing wrong and hurting no one, she should take the path of least resistance and do what she’s told is proper? Forego her own happiness because people who don’t understand it may disapprove?”

Ah. That is… not something Héctor thought about. He slowly pulls away, and grabs both of Imelda’s hands. “I’m sure that won’t happen. She’ll be as brave as her mamá.”

“Then it’s time for her mamá to be brave.”

“Ay, mi amor--”

“Uh, apologies for interrupting, but I think your coffee is spilling over the stove.”

“Gah!” Héctor jumps back and almost falls off the chair when Ceci’s voice rings out. Imelda blinks, and turns to look at the doorway. Ceci is there, her measuring tape and notepad in hand, one eyebrow raised. Héctor stands, giving her a smile entirely too wide. 

“Ceci,” he says quickly. “Whatever you heard, it was, uh. Not what it. Sounded like.”

Ceci’s left eyebrow joined the left one almost up to her hairline. Imelda sighs and places her hand on Héctor’s shoulder.

“Turn off the strove,” she says before turning to Ceci. “... How much have you heard?”

“Enough to hurt my brain, to be entirely sincere. Not out of bigotry, mind you, but... him of all people? Unless I understood it all wrong. Please tell me I understood it all wrong.”

Imelda’s lips curl in a faint smile, and some of the tenseness in her back disappears. When she speaks, she denies nothing. “No accounting for taste, I suppose. I would be grateful if you could keep what you heard private.”

“Of course I am not going to go around telling, who do you take me for?”

“A bruja?” Ernesto’s voice carries over from the next room, causing Héctor to wince and, of course, spill hot coffee on his hand. Ay, maybe having that conversation with Ernesto and Ceci a couple of doors away was every bit the lousy idea he thought it may be. To his relief, as Ernesto walks in with Coco in the crook of his arm, it becomes obvious he only heard the last few words and has no idea of what the concersaton is even about. 

Héctor silently thanks God for the fact they won’t have to talk things through in front of Ceci just as Ernesto pauses on the doorway and blinks, realizing all eyes are on him. 

“Is-- something on my face?” he asks, taken aback. In his arms, Coco squirms and coos, holding out her arms to Imelda. She immediately goes to pick her up, her face just a little reddened, and Ceci clears her throat. 

“Well, I think it is about time I am off. I'll send you progress photos of the ropón," she says quickly, and is out of the room and towards the door as fast as her legs can carry her. 

Ernesto blinks again, watching her retreating back until she’s gone. “What crawled up her--”

“Not in front of Coco!” Héctor almost screeches, his own face dark red, and Ernesto trails off. 

“Right-- what’s gotten into her?” he asks, and looks back at them. “... Actually, what’s gotten in all of you just now?”

Héctor works his jaw, and glances over at Imelda. She looks back at him, bouncing Coco in her arms for a few moments, and finally turns back to Ernesto.

“... Would you like to stay for lunch?” she asks.

He does.

***

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dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl. 

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else. 

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil. 

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it. 

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed. 

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?” 

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?” 

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face. 

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks. 

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. 

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that. 

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing. 

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home. 

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour. 

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully. 

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?” 

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky. 

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move. 

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’. 

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else. 

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support. 

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while. 

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence. 

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off. 

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment. 

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.” 

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him. 

 “Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago. 

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.” 

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens. 

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word. 

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.” 

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space. 

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens. 

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk. 

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps. 

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away. 

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him. 

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy. 

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe. 

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint. 

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle. 

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets. 

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face. 

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note. 

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car. 

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking. 

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said. 

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands. 

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort. 

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more. 

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home. 

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation. 

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly? 

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform. 

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter. 

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response. 

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving. 

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door. 

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street. 

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK II | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 2! Read Part 1 here.

Soundtrack:

Maps - Maroon 5.

Me & Ur Ghost - Blackbear.

Keep You Close - Frenship.

Word Count: 3,341.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, substance use, a bit of angst.

Fall, Sophomore Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“Okay, you know what?” You scoffed, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I give up. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Claire laughed from behind you, “You alright over there?”

“No,” you grumbled. You pressed down on the black frame, using all your might to make the command strip stick to the wall. Yet, when you stepped back, it would pop off of the surface, and your ballet poster was lopsided. It’d been a vicious cycle for 10 minutes. “This goddamn command strip won’t stick. What the fuck?” 

“Okay, grumpy, step away from the poster,” Claire ordered, grabbing onto your shoulders and escorting you to the center of the room. “The room looks great, [y/n], why are you so stressed?” 

“I am not stressed. I am frustrated, and those damn command strips aren’t cheap. I’m pissed.” 

“Okay, staples queen, tell you what,” she sighed. “I will go buy you a pack of command strips and personally mount the poster myself, okay?” 

You looked up at Claire, giving her a soft smile. “Did I win the roommate lottery or what?”

“Yeah, but better not say stuff like that too much. People are gonna start thinking we’re a different type of roommates.”

You laughed, and shook your head at her. 

“[y/n], what’s up?” Claire asked. “You’ve been moody as fuck ever since we moved back in for the semester. Classes haven’t even started yet and you’re moping around. What’s going on?”

Well, Claire, you thought. I’m glad you asked. I’m glad you brought it up, because I’ve been dying to talk about it for a while. You see, I fucked my mortal enemy, and it was so good that I did it a second time. And no, I’m not talking about my cinematography professor, I’m talking about Matthew. Gubler. I fucked Matthew Gubler. Yes, I know. Hell has frozen over. Because I hated him. I hate him. I think he’s awful. Especially since he thinks it’s okay to fuck someone, ignore their existence, fuck them again, ignore their existence, and then leave them with a vague ass note? 505. 505! I’ve looked up every possible meaning of 505 that there is. The song, urban dictionary, numerology. And I can’t figure the shit out. And it doesn’t help that Matthew didn’t say a word to me over summer break. I’m just lost and confused and I know you would understand and you would know what to do. 

But it’s Matthew. 

And I can’t tell anyone. Especially you. 

“Last semester was a royal disaster,” you sighed. “I just don’t wanna overwhelm myself again. Y’know with class, and shows, and parties. I wanna do right this semester, but it’s a little stressful. So, I’m a little stressed.” 

Claire looked at you for a long time, eyebrows lowered and her eyes scanning your face. She had a gut feeling that you were lying, but didn’t wanna be a bitch. So she bit her tongue. 

“Let’s go get something to eat,” she smiled. 

Classes started that following Monday. Your first lecture was at 10 o’clock. And you woke up at 10:15. Having showered the night before, you brushed your teeth, put on your outfit and fixed your hair all in ten minutes and hiked it across campus in 4 minutes. You rushed up to the classroom door, and entered the lecture very calmly. People were scattered about in the auditorium, some towards the sides, a lot front and center. But only one person sitting in the very back row.

Matthew. 

Too occupied with explaining yourself to your professor, you didn’t notice Matthew until a few minutes after entering. You refused to make eye contact with him, nervously staring at your feet as you walked over to him. And took a seat at his side. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Those were the only words spoken for an hour and fifteen minutes. However, within 10 minutes of seeing you again, Matthew began to rub your thigh. His fingers grazed the top of your leg, slowly but surely making their way to your inner thigh. You held your breath, staring up at the professor the whole time and pretending to take notes. 

When Matthew’s fingers pressed against your clit, you almost gasped. But you kept your mouth shut, stifling the sound. He smirked to himself, only glancing at you when you were too shaken up to notice. You propped up the screen of your laptop, hiding your face behind it so you could let out quiet moans. You were so sensitive, and very glad that you wore a skirt to class. 

Matthew’s fingers slid your panties to the side and made skin to skin contact with your clit, applying pressure as he rubbed you. You exhaled for a long time, swear words wanting to fly out of your mouth instead. The professor’s words drowned out a long time ago, and at this point you didn’t care. You just needed to come. 

Matthew remembered the way you liked to be touched, he had to. Because he was able to bring you to the edge so quickly, it was insane. You clenched your thighs around his wrist to signal your nearing release, and he grinned. 

You rested your head on the keyboard of your laptop, hiding from everyone as you came. Your jaw dropped, and you had to stop yourself from groaning too loudly. Matthew removed his hand from under your skirt. He sucked on the tips of his fingers, just to get the taste of you on his tongue. Then, with only 2 minutes left in class, he packed up his stuff and walked out.

You should’ve dropped the class. At the very least, sat somewhere else. But you didn’t. You stayed in that course. With Matthew. In the back row. And wore skirts every other day for a month. Some days he would repeat the action, and some days he wouldn’t. It was like he could tell how desperate you were each time. And if you were really desperate, he simply didn’t touch you. It sucked, but it kept you on your toes. 

He missed class one day, and to cope, you had a dream about him that night. You imagined him using his mouth on you, in an empty lecture hall, bending you over the desk, making you come. When you woke up, you were in a cold sweat. You couldn’t believe you were having thoughts like this about Matthew Gubler. But you were. 

You hopped out of bed, put on your slippers, and left the room to go to the vending machines. Holding a soda and some candy, you walked back to your dorm room silently. Alerted by the sound of footsteps, you turned your head down the hall to see Claire walking out of someone’s room. She noticed you and rushed up to you with a big smile. 

“Hey!” She beamed. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t sleep. Where you been?”

She sighed happily, “I’ve been doing adult things, [y/n], I cannot lie.” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder as you both walked to your room. “I’m in love, kid. It’s crazy.”

“You’re in love? With who?”

“Ah, that will soon be revealed, my dear [y/n].” 

That weekend, you two invited everyone to come hang out at your dorm. Someone was able to swipe some liquor, and it was a party. A handful of people, getting a little tipsy, music in the background. Claire insisted Matthew be invited, but you weren’t expecting him to show up. But of course, he did. Because he’s a nuisance. 

He laid down on Claire’s bed and she sat beside him, the two of them quickly joining the conversation at hand. You tried not to look like a kicked puppy, tried not to pout, to sulk, to watch. But inch by inch, second by second, Claire moved closer to Matthew, until by the end of the night, her head was on his chest. 

That Monday, you sat in the front of the class. 

And every class after that for the next month. 

Missing your daily release, you became cranky and nasty and moody. You didn’t mean to, but that’s how it happened. To help you get over the nagging feeling, you went out one Saturday night. A group of friends dragged you along to a dorm party in the next building over. You used it as an excuse to dress up, ignore your homework and get some fresh air. In a tight purple dress, you walked into the booming dorm. It was packed, smelled like booze and filled with heat. 

A cup of vodka in your hand, it wasn’t until about two hours in that you realized you didn’t want to party. You sat on the couch the whole time, fiddling with your hands and the hem of your dress. You’d drank an entire solo cup of alcohol by then, and you were starting to get tired. Your friends had gotten lost a long time ago, and you knew it was fruitless to look for them. So, you picked yourself up and started to head for the exit. 

“[y/n]!” 

You turned around to see a guy walking towards you. Jonathan. “Hey, John, what the hell is going on?” You asked, noticing him supporting another guy on his shoulder. His friend was a drunken, sloppy mess, and could barely stand.

“Our boy Steve here had a little too much to drink,” John replied. “I’m taking him back to his room. You going back to your place?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I am.”

“Okay, do you mind helping me with him? Please? I’ll give you a dollar.”

You laughed, shook your head and put your arm around Steve’s waist. “Ooh, a dollar! Sounds exciting.” 

It was cold, and you shivered on the way back to your dorm building. Steve only lived down the hall from you, so helping wasn’t too far out of the way for you. John used Steve’s key to let the three of you into Steve’s suite, guiding both of you to Steve’s room. 

You both worked together to lay Steve down on his mattress. You covered him with his blanket. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” John told you. “We both are actually.”

“Maybe we should start a business. We escort drunk people home for a small fee of $100.”

He laughed, “I’m in as long as you dress like that every time.”

You blushed, and ducked your head down to hide it. 

“What’s going on in here?” A voice called to you two. 

You looked up at the threshold to see Matthew standing there, looking sleepy, disheveled, shirtless, and beautiful. 

“Hey, Gube,” John greeted. “[y/n] and I were just dropping Steve off. Kid couldn’t  hold his liquor.” 

Matthew scoffed, “You could’ve left him there. Let him get dicks drawn on his face.”

“Well, aren’t you full of love?” John laughed. “No, seriously, I’ve gotta text Lindsey and let her know I’m staying in for tonight.” He padded at his pocket, followed by a loud groan, “Fuck, I left my phone at the party. Fuck me.” 

“That’s a higher power trying to tell you that you need to stay out longer,” Matthew said. 

John smirked at him, “You’re right. Wonderful insight, Gubler.”

John walked out of the door, heading for the exit, and you followed him, avoiding eye contact with Matthew. As the two of you approached the front door, you froze. John exited the suite, not noticing that he was leaving you behind. And you would’ve moved if you had the power. 

Hanging on the door of the suite was the room number: 505.

Your breath caught in your throat. 505. The room number. The room number of the suite you saw Claire leaving that day. 505.

“What took you so long?” Matthew asked, standing behind you. 

You released your breath, goosebumps crawling on your skin as you felt him get closer to you. Your heart raced, your body trembled. You had a physical response to being near this boy. It was intense. 

“I’m not doing this, Matthew,” you whispered. 

“Doing what? We’re just talking.”

You turned around to face him, suddenly very angry, “No! You know what I’m talking about! You know what I’m talking about! And it’s gone on for long enough, Matthew. I’m out!” You kept your voice quiet, but still aggressive. You turned to exit the dorm, but he grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into him. 

“Listen, Princess Peach,” he said.

“Fuck you—“

“Listen. I don’t know what your deal is, but I do know that I miss you—“

“You’re full of shit. You just wanna fuck.”

“That’s what I said. I miss you. I mean, for such a short person, your pussy packs a punch.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Face it,” he murmured. “You may hate me, but your pussy doesn’t.”

Your body melted into his at the sound of his voice. The feeling of his hands running down your body, landing on your thigh. “Just admit it. Or tell me to stop.” His fingers trailed under your dress, the tips grazing you through your panties. Your head rolled back at the gentle touch and he took that as an invitation to kiss your neck. 

“Cmon, shortcake, tell me to stop,” he mumbled. “Tell me to stop.” 

You responded by wrapping your hands around his throat, using all your strength to push him out the living room couch. He chuckled under his breath, stumbling back onto the cushion and pulling you into his lap. 

“Oh, you gonna choke me?” He asked, his voice coming out strained. “Okay, princess, you hate me so much? You can’t stand me?” He pushed his pants down to reveal his erection. “Fuck me like it then.” 

You crashed your lips onto his and pushed him back onto the couch, reaching down to grab his cock. You pulled your panties to the side and teased him against your core, moaning as his tip rubbed against your clit. You sank down onto his dick, feet pressed into the couch, hands holding his neck. 

He stared up at you as you fucked him — fast and careless. Swear words fell off of his lips uncontrollably, his hands pawing at your breast. Your boobs fit perfectly in his palm and he was obsessed. He had to bite down on his bottom lip to stay quiet, grunting into his mouth. 

“F-fuck,” he panted. “Wait, wait.” 

You leaned in and kissed him roughly, grinding your hips against his. You made sure to stay silent, giving no indication that you were experiencing so much pleasure. 

“H-hey — shit, fuck,” he groaned. “Wait.”

Matthew placed his hands on your ass, his eyes closed tight, his body tensing up as you rode him into the wall. “Oh, fuck!” He exclaimed, and lifted you off of his cock. Quickly, just in time for him to release all over his stomach. He panted, he quivered, he mumbled soft, dirty words. Whispered something about you. 

As pretty a sight as it was, you refused to sit there and stare. So, you stood up, pulled the hem of your dress down. And this time, you left. Not a word said. Nothing. 

Matthew followed you on instagram that night. You didn’t accept the request for a week, and when you did, you didn’t follow him back. He tried to add you on snapchat, but you declined it. You continued to sit far away from him in class, giving him no access. He brought you a drink at a party once and you asked for water instead. When he returned with the water, you had already left. 

He had met his match. You dominated him, successfully, fearlessly, and without even trying. He wanted more. But you liked to watch him so squirm, so you didn’t give in. 

Christmas break rolled around, and instead of focusing on the actual holiday, you and your friends planned your first spring break vacation. A group of you would head to South Beach for the week, and stay at a relative’s beach house. 

You sat on your bed, trying to map out the cost of the trip. “So it’s me, you, the four of them...Claire, are you listening to me?”

“Is this a good Christmas gift for Matthew?” 

You turned your head to her quickly, “Huh?” 

“This,” she held up the book - The Magic Encyclopedia. “You think Matthew will like it?”

“Claire,” you sighed. “What are you doing?” 

“What do you mean?”

“What are you doing simping over this boy? Buying him gifts? This isn’t you, Claire.”

“Leave me alone, [y/n], okay? We’re just friends. And he told me he bought me a gift so I got him one. Jeez, do you have to hate him so much?” She pouted, dropping the book into a gift bag. 

“Um, actually, yeah I do,” you nodded. “He’s a dick.”

A knock rang at the door, and as Claire hopped up, she pointed her finger at you, “That’s him. Do not pick a fight.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to planning. Matthew stepped into the room, carrying a bag in one hand. He used his other hand to cup Claire’s face and give her a small kiss on the cheek. “Santa Claus is here!” He exclaimed. 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Claire pleaded, reaching for the gift bag. 

“Wow, Claire, I’m hurt. You’re so materialistic.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, please, Gube,” she scoffed. “Give me my gift.”

“Okay,” he reached into the bag and pulled out a small box, wrapped into festive paper. “I got this for you, Claire,” he handed her the box. “And I even got something for your roommate here.”

You picked your head up, face ridden with confusion. Matthew licked his lips as he held the gift out to you, “I saw it and I couldn’t help myself. Merry Christmas, short stack.” 

“Aw, Gube!” Claire squealed. Matthew let her tuck herself under his arm and hug him. “You’re so sweet.”

You stared at the tiny box in your hands, feeling it’s weight. “Thanks...” you whispered.

“Here, open what I got you,” Claired ordered Matthew, stepping over to her bed and grabbing the gift bag. She handed it to him with a wide smile, and giggled as he reached inside. 

“Wow!” He cheered, holding the book in his hand. “Holy shit, Claire. This is incredible, thank you!”

“I knew how much you wanted that book so I remembered to get it,” she said. “So, I hope your gift for me is as impressive.”

“It is.”

As the two of them spoke, you opened up your own gift, quietly, hiding it behind your pillow. Claire unwrapped Matthew’s gift, and squealed. “Shut up! Where did you find this film?”

“Amazon!” he replied. “That fancy camera of yours only takes a certain type of film so I wanted you to be stocked.”

You pulled the item out of the box, focused on figuring out what it was. It was cold, metallic, and shone under the light as it was revealed. 

“Oh, Gube!” Claire pulled him into a hug. “This is incredible!”

It was an antique. A silver polished miniature  ballerina, perched on a pedestal. There was a knob on the side, and when turned, the ballerina twirled. It was precious. 

You looked over at Matthew and Claire, watching as they broke out of their hug and looked at each other. “I expect a bunch of pictures when I get back,” he told her, backing out of the room. 

“And I expect a professional magician,” she winked. Yuck. Claire turned her head to you after Matthew left, grinning, “What’d he get you?” 

You quickly pushed the ballerina back in the box, shaking your head. “Socks. Mismatched socks. Very funny.” You replied. 

She giggled, “But hey, a gift! That’s growth!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. 

“Matthew’s great,” She said. “You’ll get to know him better soon, since he’s coming to the beach with us.”

“He’s what?”

[PART 3.]

[ikevamp-annalyne]

Hey, idk if youre taking requests but I have an angsty one 🥺👉👈 How would Arthur, Leo, Theo, Comte and Dazai(plus if you wanna add anyone) react to a flinch-y mc? Like she's gone through abuse and is super on edge a lot, jumps when people raise their hands near her or seem angry. Maybe she puts up a tough front a lot but is easy to cry anytime anyone actually seems angry or upset w her.

Hello there! - =͟͟͞͞ ( ꒪౪꒪)ฅ✧ Thank you so much for the request! Sorry for the late, I am caught up in some personal matters as well as work ;; I hope you will enjoy these! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Arthur:

It doesn't take too much time for Arthur to figure out what you've been going. I mean, he is clever and the dad of Sherlock! So of course he guesses pretty early on what's going with you. And let's be honest: he is MAD.

Not at you, but at who dared to abuse you. It makes him a lot uneasy because he touches people a lot. He is so very sad you flinch everytime he comes for a hug, a kiss, or even just a simple head pat.

You put on a tough front but he can see very well how frightened you are. It's been so long since he's had someone in his life so he is pretty lost with how to tackle this issue with you. He will try to ask you very nicely why you are so flinchy, and you just close yourself up, saying you don't want to talk about it nor your past.

Arthur is not very happy with it because you are the one who told hin to open up about his past and old wounds. So he gets a tad upset, crying and even sounding desperate: "I want to embrace your scars just like you embrace mine! Please talk to me! Tell me..."

When he cries, you cannot help it but hug him and tell everything you've been through. As you are crying along the tale, he cries with you and you end up both crying into each other's embrace. He promises to protect you and take it slow with you, letting you touch him first.

Leonardo:

Daddy Leonardo is not pleased. Not at you, at those who did it. But for you, he holds back his rage and lets you be the one to come at him. No need for talking about it: he guessed it easily and doesn't want to pressure you into sharing it.

He will take it slow with you, starting with very small gestures: shoulder pat, back caress, head pat, cheek caress. He wants you to feel safe so he asks you every single time. "Can I pat your head?" Just being asked is incredible for you so you agree everytime, except when you feel more on edge than usual.

When you are in these moments -most of the time after a nightmare- he will make you food and let you sleep to your heart's content, keeping an eye on you. He will sleep when you wake up, because he will stay awake all night to protect you from your demons.

He is so patient, even though at times he feels very frustrated for not being able to hug you or touch you. So he hugs Lumiere a lot to make up for it. You often find them sleeping together, Lumiere curled up on Leonardo's chest, Leonardo's hand resting on the cat's head.

Eventually you feel safe with him and he is the only one allowed to touch you. He will get very angry at anyone trying to touch you; but you know, it won't show... "What do you think you're doing, trying to touch my Cara Mia without her consent?" Protective babe.

Theodorus:

Surprisingly ultra sweet!!! He hates abuse and anything coming with it. He will, however, realise your situation after Leonardo tried to oat your head and you instinctively put your hands up to prevent him from touching you while flinching.

So Theodorus will stay the same, with the insults and teasing, but he will never lay a hand on you. Instead, he will display a lot of affection gestures on Vincent, so that you can see he is not there to harm you.

Seeing this brotherly love makes you happy. You can clearly see all the love and trust between the two brothers. You will crave for this kind of relationship: you've never experienced this before... So one day, you will talk to Theodorus about it.

"I envy you, Vincent and you. You look so close, so happy when you are together. I wish I had known this at least once in my life..." He doesn't need to say anything: just looking at his eyes makes you spit it all out, every little thing about your past.

He listens, ocasionally asking questions. And when you are done, his hand travels very slowly to your head. If you flich, he stops until you relax. Eventually, he reaches the top of your head and pat it. "Nice hondje, you've been through a lot. ... Glad you're here." He will be nicer to you from this moment.

Comte:

Mama Comte is shocked when you escape from his touch -he was just going to put a hair lock behind your ear. And you don't know why, but staring at him, at his eyes, makes you blurt out the whole story, very early on. You just trust him.

When he knows, he promises that all the residents are good guys who will never hurt you. And to prove it, he will make you witness every resident's interaction. Theodorus and Vincent's close bond, Leonardo and Isaac's dad and son relationship, Jean and Mozart's interaction...

He also tells everybody that you are not comfortable with physical contact and kindly -threatens- asks the residents to never lay a hand on you if you don't give them permission. Everyone understands, so they all try to make you feel at ease.

As for Comte, he wants to work on you with trust and touching. He will hold some "lessons" to make you more comfortable with basic touching: shaking hands, head pats, shoulder pats, arm squeeze... Since you trust him, you flinch but do it because you know it is safe with him.

The lessons go for months until you are perfectly comfortable around the residents. To the point you can now initiate touches and ocasionally pat the residents. Some really like it, others are surprised. But you do this more with Comte, obviously. Especially head pats and back caress -and kissing obviously...-

Dazai:

Dazai is a teaser but he doesn't laugh with this matter. When you open up to him about it -after a few drinks making you a tad tipsy- he goes full protect mode. But hidden protect mode. He watches from afar.

Basically, when someone tries to touch you, he just pops out of nowhere and shifts the attention to him so the other forgets they were trying to touch you. Even with the residents! When one tries to pat your head or shoulder, he comes from the window and jumps in the room.

You have vague memories of that deinking night so you know what he is doing, and you are so very grateful. You will make a lot of gifts to thank him, including some Japanese food!

- Comte helped you get your hand on the ingredients needed-

Dazai will be very happy, but he will keep on denying what he is doing for you, claiming that it is all pure coincidences and that he was so wasted that night he doesn't remember a single thing about what you confessed. But you know he lies.

As a token of your gratitude, you will be the one touching him first. You will suddenly comes for a hug, surprising him a lot. But he will hug you back and then pat your head before kissing your forehead and saying he is proud of you. You're left as a blushing mess.

I hope you liked it!!! (｡･ω･)ﾉﾞ

[calypsoff]

Sixty Eight. Part 4

These Fenty slides have come in handy, they actually match my silky dress “you killed this sis, like really have” Rajad hugged me “awww my baby” kissing his cheek “I have missed you, I’m glad you made it for the party, you think big sis did good yeah” he nodded his head “this party is dope” I cooed out; that means I have done good if Rajad is praising me like this. I think I have done well for myself, and just to see his face and how happy he is about this party, it’s really made me happy to see him that happy. First thing he said was about his dad being in a club, let me get up and greet my in laws actually “I’ll be back” I said to my team as I walked off “Robyn, hi” Joyce is the cutest “awww my mother in law looking cute as ever, I love this dress” hugging her close “oh you smell so good” she really does “thank you sweetie, where is your mother. I can’t see her” moving back from the hug “following Chris around somewhere but I am so glad you came out for his party, to see his little face light up seeing you all” placing my arm around Joyce “I know, he got so happy, but look at you. This is amazing, oh Robyn I can’t wait to see my second grandchild” Joyce is staring at my bump “I am pretty nervous about it actually, giving birth is a part where I’m trying to not think about but it’s making me nervous, a lot” Desean is just staring at me, not sure if it’s me or my boobs, teenage boys “you ok baby?” He blushed instantly “the cutest but I am excited for it, I would like you to come to Cali when I do give birth. There is waiting rooms and stuff, I want both of you to be there. Just like my family will be here so do come” Joyce looked so overjoyed I said that “hi Robyn, you look amazing” I cooed out as Clinton hugged me “thank you, fresh bald head for the party” he bust out laughing “shined too” I can tell it was shined, he looks handsome like his son. Dennis came over to us “let’s take a picture” placing my hands on Desean’ shoulders.

Boys will be boys, they are just being boys and rowdy “Rihanna” Jay hugged me “thank you so much for coming out, you didn’t need too” he stepped back stuffing his hands in his pockets “anything for you, it was good to perform and have a little fun. I just saw your husband actually; he is very excited” I chuckled “are you staying or do you need to go. I know you mentioned that you need to go and couldn’t stay like that, would be nice if you could” he sighed out “for a few drinks I will then I do need to go” I am glad he can “how have you been? I see you are coming far along with the baby; I was telling Bey that Rihanna will be having the baby soon. I can’t believe how far she come in her career and even her personal career. I am so proud of you, but good seeing you in high spirits” hugging Jay again “thank you, it’s been a long time coming. There has been hard times, many of them but I am at a point in my life where I am happy now, I feel ready to even make another album, I am feeling very less negative. My hormones were awful, but I am positive about everything now but thank you for this. I asked and then I was like he’s in New York, what am I doing but you came, Diddy is coming too, crazy enough. Chris has been making friends along the way, he’s loveable” Jay nodded his head “he is, he’s settled in well. Was worried at first because there were issues, but you dealt with that, media are vultures so we need to be careful but you, you stay safe and when you’re ready to come, do that. I can’t wait to meet the future star” placing my hand over my bump “likewise” I sighed out smiling to myself proud.

I have been doing my rounds, saying hi to everyone I can find and have yet to find my husband. He is somewhere and I can hear him, but he is too busy having fun “hey Rih” looking up “oh hey Drake” getting up “no it’s ok sit, how are you?” I remained seated, if I can sit then I will “I am fine, you?” I asked, he pulled a chair up to me “just you seemed to have ignored me and I get it, you probably dislike me for what happened at my place” oh he noticed that “you are here for Chris because he really adores you and the team, best friends you know” I shrugged, I mean he should have known and he is aware on what these bitches like “I have the greatest respect for you; I wouldn’t ever lie to you in any way. I didn’t think India would have done all of that, I did understand that he may have been in some sort of trouble, but I didn’t think India would have done that” a guilty man “you know how these bitches are like, they see my man as fresh blood and he was in that position because of you. Now you have been in the game to know that, I feel like you were testing the waters out to see if he would” Drake shook his head “I promise you no” I don’t believe him “let’s leave it, it is what it is but don’t play with my family or better yet my marriage, I can’t trust you with my husband so he won’t come to your home like that, you put me through shit” Drake’ face softened, didn’t think he would get this kind of reaction “let’s leave it to that” I can vaguely see Chris “hey” I smiled at Chris, he just stared at me and then looked up and pointed up “thank you; what did I deserve to have you, oh my god!” Chris rushed over and leaned over hugging me “thank you, thank you, thank you” he kept kissing my cheek “stop it, enjoy yourself baby, go and party” looking up at him “thank you” nodding my head “I know” pecking his lips.

I am tired just going around saying hi to people, Diddy came, he actually gave us Ciroc for free for this event so of course I invited them “is this the mother corner?” seeing both Majesty and TJ’ son here in the corner, I don’t know how but they are asleep in this loud environment “I peeped you with Drake” sitting next to Mel “you did, well I told him how disappointed I am with him. Chris calls him a friend but you couldn’t protect him from that, he was just giving me shit excuses so I just accepted it and said let’s move on, you’re his friend so there is that” waving my hand “I am over it, he can just next time realise that my husband is faithful, I feel he was testing the waters out, if India didn’t bark he wouldn’t have barked, trust me” Mel’ eyes widened “anyways, moving on. Chris has to give me a foot massage after this, once he is over everything” Mel giggled “well he will do anything for your feet won’t he” Mel winked at me “ma’am” I cackled “don’t start” she needs to not speak another word “shoutout to Rihanna, give it up to her” Pour it Up started playing, I stood up with my virgin cocktail “strip clubs and dollar bills” lifting my drink up singing and then twerked in Mel’ face, shaking my head laughing “I can’t” laughing “I can’t do that to my baby” I laughed “shut up, that baby can wait. The fuck” Yusuf is a bad influence “you’re a mess” I laughed pointing at him “bands make your girl down” I assumed my legs were going to give but I went down and got up without an issue “aye, aye, aye. That’s my girl” these are bad “done!” I spat sitting down, I can’t be like this sober.

Chris’ cars should be arriving soon, I hope soon because then he can do what he likes. I have his suit jacket; we are getting to that point “how many virgin cocktails have you had?” rolling my eyes “let me see the commotion” getting up, I want to see the shouting now this March Madness song came on. I miss weed so much, like just smelling it right now is making me jealous. Rich just came out of nowhere “rowdy men” he said, letting out an oh as we made our way. I am just wondering why they are crowding, I am being nosey “mind out, move! Rich pushed some of the people out of the way, they was about to say something but I mean of course, I am Rihanna so they can’t say shit but move out the fucking way. Seeing Chris and then Diddy, oh we not at this point, Diddy cannot dance for shit “you on that grandpa dance, you know that” Chris said pointing at him “no, no. Just watch my shoulder, smooth” he shimmied his shoulders, shaking my head laughing “go on Breezy, you got something for that ass. Go! Show him the moves” I grinned watching “move out, move out” shuffling back with the crowd, Drake and him started bopping, he is actually Chris’ hypeman and it’s making me laugh, my eyes widened and everyone just fell out even I was impressed “no fucking way” I am so impressed by that, did he just land on beat too “yes, that’s how country niggas do it!” Rorrey dapped him “you a robot, you’re a robot. I can’t” that is so impressive.

This is the main part for me “the cars are coming, let’s get ready to go outside. Rajad, tell the DJ. It’s time” Rajad walked off “what is happening?” Joyce asked, she doesn’t even know either but she will be seeing it now “you will see” I smiled, I just can’t wait to see his face. His reaction all day has been shock after shock and now this so I can’t for him to see it “hold up, hold up. Can everyone make their way outside, we need everyone outside. I repeat, everyone outside” getting up from the seat, looking over at Chris. He looks a little tipsy, but not so much just a little. I want to make sure he goes outside “come on, everyone out please” everyone is just staring, I know these people can walk out quicker. Waving Chris over, he caught me waving at him. He rushed over to me “what is happening, you good? Everything good” I shrugged “I don’t know, I think maybe a security issue. Let’s just go outside” Chris looks like a deer caught in headlights, he is partying hard, and I love that for him “ok, as long as you’re ok” he placed his arm around me “you not drunk are you?” I asked him “I had a few shots” he laughed “but that is because they are birthday shots, but I am not that drunk, don’t worry. I am just so happy Robyn; I can’t thank you enough. You have made all my birthdays, you have, and I love you” nodding my head “it’s ok Poppa, let’s just go outside” walking off with Chris with his arm around me “I just wish I could take it in, I am just in the moment thinking wow. It’s crazy, best birthday ever! Like I don’t mind if it’s ended now, it’s just a good day” I will let him continue to mumble and talk his shit.

I feel so giddy inside, It’s excitement because honestly he is not expecting it “shall we just go home, honestly I have had a good time here and I don’t wait you to stand around” Chris looked down at my feet “baby I changed out of my heels, I was not about to wear them” Chris busted out laughing “aight, this is funny, and cute” looking over seeing that everyone has moved to the sides and it’s only Chris and I stood in the middle and he hasn’t noticed anything at all, I just find my husband so cute because he doesn’t think anything of it, he doesn’t expect that, his expectations is so low and he’s the sweetest. Hearing the engine rev as it slowly pulled up, looking at the first Lamborghini his one “I was thinking what if we went away on holiday before the baby comes, just you and me” nodding my head, he is just doesn’t care “yeah, baby look what just pulled up” I mumbled, everyone is just stood waiting for his reaction and he’s talking about holiday. Staring at his face, I want to see his reaction “what about it? It’s nice” the guy got out of the car, I don’t want to say it to him, I want him to figure it out “Chris Brown?” he pointed at Chris “uh yeah?” Chris is all confused “catch, happy birthday” he threw the key in the air, Chris caught it luckily “what!?” he spat and then looked at me “happy birthday poppa, it’s your car” placing my hands behind my back smiling ever so wide, he looked at the key and then at me again, he is trying to process it “no” he stepped back “no” he kept walking back “no way” he placed his hands on his knees “oh my god” he seems wounded “congratulations nigga, you rolling” the second car rolled up behind it, these are actually cute “no way” Chris is dramatic when he wants to be and I think his performance starts now “no way!” he spat and then turned away.

Chris turned back around “oh man” the guy held out the key to him “happy birthday” clasping my hands together in awe, Chris put his head down and then made his way over to me. Wrapping his arms around me “it’s ok” I didn’t want him to cry “this is too much Robyn, no way” rubbing his back “you deserve it, don’t cry” Chris moved back from me as he wiped his tears “I don’t deserve this woman, like probably thinking why I am crying. I ain’t expect this, all of this. She is literally my other half, and I am just a country nigga I ain’t do this flashy stuff, she literally” Chris sobbed out “she literally had my back when I was down, and I mean down where I didn’t want to be here and this” Chris looked at me, he is so emotional “you know I got you Chris” placing my hand on his torso, he leaned down pressing a kiss to my lips, wiping his tears with the back of my hands “go and look, they are both yours, second one is more family car but go on” everyone started clapping and cheering as he walked off “look at you nigga! This is the new shit!” let the boys cheer him up “Robyn you have really spoilt him, oh my god” Joyce said, she is a wreck like her son “he deserves it, he really does” looking over at Chris losing his mind over cars, these boys are so easily pleased by the smallest things and I find that funny.

I thought before everyone just gets drunk or whatever, I would do my little speech and thank people for coming “no, I am not singing” snatching the mic from the DJ, he keeps asking me too, but I think the fuck not, I won’t be doing that today “I won’t be long, can you all just listen. Thank you” I sound so grumpy, but I know they saw me get on stage, but Chris is listening so that is all that matter, someone did a wolf whistle “thank you Melissa” I know it’s her “I don’t want to waste too much time and be speaking on emotional things; I want you all to have fun and have a blast. It’s on me, first and last time but I just want to thank everyone that came out for Chris’ birthday. I appreciate it and so does he, you all made his day extra special. Happy Birthday Chris, you deserve this. All of this you deserve it, you missed out on so much of your life and you never got to live your life the way you wanted too, and now you’re married so fun is over” everyone laughed “but doesn’t mean it is over, you can still have fun within reason but back to the point, Chris has been through a lot and I have seen him at his lowest, moments where I thought I would have lost him. You are the most deserving of this and I love you. By the way the big car, whatever it’s called. That is the one where you take me around, the end. Have a nice night” holding the mic to the DJ, I am done.

I made Dennis send me the picture of Chris and I arriving, we look good as hell and I want to post it of us. Adding a caption ‘Our baby got the flyest parents’ pressing send on the post “I think it’s time for mommy to go to bed” I announced “Monica?” Noella asked “moi, me. I need to go, I can’t deal. It’s late and they want to party even more so let me go, TJ left that damn boy there like a piece of trash. Men” shaking my head “are you going with me? Rich, get the child” I said to him, I don’t play it’s not nice to just leave a baby like that for ages “I was about to come to you, I am going home ok? I can’t stay here any longer, so you come home when you like ok?” Chris nodded his head “don’t get too drunk, remain like this” fixing his shirt “I come to check on the baby” nodding my head slowly “the one baking in my stomach?” I questioned “yeah, is she ok?” I shushed him “baby it’s ok, let’s just not speak. I am going, tell TJ his baby will be at the home, he has ditched his child in the corner. Where is he?” Chris shrugged “never mind just tell him he is at the house, I am going” I added again “you know what, I love you so much. Like I cry thinking about it” Rorrey yanked Chris away, I needed that actually, but I think he understood that.

[rootsmachine]

iteki replied to your post: happy halloween my hot take of the night... 

Tell me more?

ok i am a LITTLE tipsy but here we go:

1. a lot of the Theme of the haunting of hill house is about the repression and suffication that family can bring -- it’s not a story about how trauma infects families, it’s a story about how families can often be Traumatic and the Root of the trauma. making the characters related was a shit choice and i will go to my grave thinking this.

2. the voices, the main characters, and the anxiety are a distinctly female experience. it is, in my opinion, a story often about the horror of being a woman. giving eleanor’s voice and words to a male main character sits extremely poorly with me. 

3. it’s a lot more?? vague with the haunting. you never know what is happening, and what is “Real” and what is eleanor. the adaptation Tries to do this but imo does it Very poorly when it turns out to simply be No There Are Ghosts Here, This Is Just A Basic Horror Story

4. theo’s storyline is bad, and poorly handled. i don’t like the repeated sexualized violence she’s subjected to. i don’t like it. you can write horror about women that doesn’t involved sexualized violence, or you can write horror that deals with rape and assault in ways that make it the horror. mike flanagan does neither. her relationship with the girlfriend whose name i cannot remember was badly done, barely explored, and felt like ?? jammed in to make it like “aha i read the book and know theo was queercoded” but it’s bad when a book from 1959 writes a gay character better than you do in 2018 or whatever

it’s fine if he wanted to tell the story he told. it’s a FINE horror/family drama series, but linking it to the haunting of hill house was a mistake. there are very very few similarities between them outside of character names, and like ... the Concept of a haunted house, and he ruins a lot of what shirley jackson has to say about the horror of family, and mental illness, and the trauma of being a woman. also shirley jackson is 10000x the writer that mike flanagan is, and it’s so JARRING when you have dialoge that is lifted from the book alongside mediocre shit he’s written

[sarahjtrash]

Cardan Spills a Secret

A/N: I had a hc that Cardan cannot keep quiet about his marital status. Enjoy!

Jude has been exiled for six months.

For the same duration, Cardan has not slept well and as many of nights has not slept at all.

Elfhame teeters on the brink of war, and all Cardan wants is the return of his Queen.

Not that he would dare admit his desire or his marital status.

No, these past six months have been filled with bargaining and discussion and headaches.

Madoc attempts to twist his arm at every turn, Orlagh threatens war with every ambassador that comes to a revel, and Nicasia drapes herself over him every night.

He both pities her and is disgusted by her.

When her skin brushes his, he wishes it were the warm mortal blood of Jude. When her lips brush against his ear to tell him something that does not need to be shared so intimately, he hopes it were a different voice.

In some deep part of him, Cardan recognizes that he may be slightly in love with Jude.

Tonight her absence feels particularly keen, and he’d consumed perhaps a few too many cups of wine for someone desperately trying to avoid a war.

Nicasia has attached herself to his arm for the evening, following him from conversation to conversation throughout the revel.

He knows objectively that she is spying on his conversations as much as she is trying to be more intimate with him.

Aside from that night where Jude convinced him to seduce Nicasia in which they did not more than kiss, Cardan has never and will never again be intimate with Nicasia.

The only way he’d made it through that seduction was through imagining it was Jude he was pleasuring.

Still, he allows Nicasia’s paltry attempts at his affection if only to appease the Queen of the Undersea.

Her attachment this evening is quite silent, a blessing in and of itself.

However, once his conversation with a particularly angry ambassador has ceased, Nicasia leads him to the side of the ballroom where a more private conversation may occur.

“You look dashing tonight, Cardan,” Nicasia hums as she runs a hand down his chest.

He knows he shouldn’t allow such casualness to their interactions, but Nicasia reveals more when she believes him to be hers.

“As do you,” he replies. It is not a lie. Nicasia is objectively beautiful.

She looks away from him for a second as though lost in thought. “Do these trivial matters and delicate balances of avoiding war tire you, Your Highness?”

It is a loaded question, one he cannot answer honestly, so he leaves it at a vague, “I find that being King is not a labor less position.”

She hums. “Perhaps you should no longer face it alone.”

Cardan fights to roll his eyes. For months, Nicasia has attempted these vague suggestions of their union. If only she knew how vile he found that arrangement.

Instead he feigns to be ignorant of her advances and replies, “I do not face it alone. I have courtiers and advisers who assist me.”

Nicasia seems put out by his brusqueness, before a challenge alights in her eye. “I grow bored of this evening. Do you think it possible we could have some tea in your chamber?”

He acquiesces, excusing himself from some unfinished discussions with various ambassadors with little discussion.

As they walk down the hallway, Cardan feels as though the hallway has tilted. He trips on his feet, only for Nicasia to laugh and catch him.

Perhaps he drank more wine than he thought. He chose to forget his recent attempt at soberness, and now only a few cups can make him tipsy.

Once they arrive at his rooms, Nicasia asks for tea, which is brought promptly in front of the fire.

They lounge on the couch, Cardan skillfully places a few inches between them.

As they sip their tea, Nicasia speaks of their shared childhood. Cardan finds her stories dull and her voice shrill. She continues to speak, oblivious to Cardan’s lack of attention.

He stares at the swaying flower overhead, and remembers the last time he had seen them bloom. It was on his wedding night, and Jude had sat on this very couch. He’d felt dizzy then too, but tonight it felt warm and soothing. As the vines swayed back and forth, Cardan felt himself drifting off, his eyelids growing heavy.

Nicasia cleared her throat, and pulled his teacup from his hands, asking him something. Distantly, he knows he shouldn’t agree, but he's too tired and hums at her.

It was clearly the wrong answer.

Before Cardan can even think, she’s straddling him and crashing her lips into his.

Cardan eyes fly open, and he finds himself to be incredibly sober.

Nicasia’s hands cup his face, and Cardan tries to gently pull her off.

She only sighs on his lips, before trying to kiss him again.

Cardan feels absolutely disgusting for letting it get this far, and shoves her off, standing up and chest heaving.

Nicasia is quiet for a moment before saying, “Last time we kissed, you halted my advances. If since becoming King you wish to be more chaste, then so be it. We can wed right here if that is more to your liking.”

Cardan laughed at her assumptions and spun around to face her. He’d said almost the same words to Jude almost months ago. It feels vile to hear them come from her lips.

“Nicasia. We can never wed.”

She stands. “My mother,” she starts as she walks towards him, “grows impatient.  She would like to share that if we do not wed by the next full moon, there shall be war.”

Then war there shall be, he thinks.

“But,” Nicasia purrs as she halts almost chest to chest, looking through her lashes at him. “If we were to marry, her army is your army. Her word is yours. We could be very powerful, Cardan.”

Again, such causality should be punished, but Cardan deigns to permit it.  As he opens his mouth once again to respond, Nicasia advances in a way he never thought possible.

Her hands brush against the buttons of his breaches, and Cardan feels sick and jumps back.

“Can you please take my denials as an answer?” He all but yells. “I do not desire you, nor do I love you. The thought of being your betrothed, while not only impossible, disgusts me. Nicasia, you were once dear to me, but those feelings of long ago, no longer persist. I do not know how to communicate this more clearly to you.”

He breathes heavily as they stare at one another.

Nicasia licks her lips three times before finally responding. “I shall leave this room and never return, but before that, I have but one question.”

Cardan raises an eyebrow, not trusting himself to say more.

“Why is it impossible for us to wed?”

Cardan pales.

Nicasia stalks towards him. “You did say that, did you not? Why can you not wed, Cardan Greenbriar?”

Maybe it’s because he’s drunk, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want Nicasia to touch him anymore, or maybe because he's tired of keeping Jude his secret, but he says, “I am not a Queen-less King.”

Nicasia stares at him in shock, but he can see the gears turning in her mind, the answer probably already at the forefront of her mind. “To whom?”

He knows Jude will probably murder him for this someday, but he can’t help the smile that overtakes his thoughts as he admits. “My wife is your High Queen, Jude Duarte Greenbriar.”

Nicasia looks murderous, and Cardan almost instantly regrets admitting to anything at all.

“I hope that you know your union will bring the death of you both, and this land,” she hisses before storming out of his room.

For a moment, Cardan lives in bliss, imagining a life where him and Jude could be happily married and not hide their feeling in secret.

For those that follow, Cardan realizes the stupidity of what he just admitted. He tells the guards outside to assemble his council.

It was time to plan for a war.

My masterlist

[ofaurclia]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: december 16th 2019

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: hemlock police station

𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃: @covingtonhqs @voidgriff @flightsrsk @paintingpeyton@unsccnangcl @edcns @skleton

there has always been something ominous about hemlock’s atmosphere, a stillness in the air that warned of an inevitable day where something would happen -- until it did, and one of her college’s own went missing. a grey sky looms above aurelia as she makes her way to the site of her questioning, one hand tucked into the pocket of her coat and the other holding the last of her cigarette as she smokes while walking. it’s her third one of the day. the tension in the air, and the outburst of feelings ranging from surprise, to outrage, to even relief for a select few make aurelia cling to her vice of choice to keep herself stoic as always.

she puts out her cigarrete using the sole of her white tennis shoe, tosses it into the nearest trashcan, and heads into the lobby. she’s fifteen minutes early, and the sound of distant chatter and a clock ticking are the soundtrack to her wait. she stands the whole time, her posture impeccable as always. eventually, a man calls her name. he introduces himself as the chief, she shakes his hand and offers a polite smile. aurelia introduces herself. he already knows her name, she clarifies that it was meant as a formality.

he steps into the interrogation room first, and a chair is pulled out for aurelia. he asks if it’s okay if he gets straight to the point, and eager to avoid any and all small talk, she agrees.

‘ can you tell me, to the best of your memory, what happened on the night of december 13, 2019? ’

aurelia nods once as a show of collaboration before she starts speaking. calmly, slowly. ‘ my friend griffin beck invited me to the party over text, and i agreed to go. usually, i’m not the most fun at parties, but griffin seemed eager for me to go. so i did. ’

‘ i arrived at the estate at nine, with my friend mav -- maverick braxton, that is. it was a college party, so as you would expect, things were a bit ... ’ she hesitates for a moment, mulling over her phrasing. ‘ hedonistic, if you will. i shared a couple of drinks with griffin, talked to maverick. still, i have a good tolerance for alcohol, so i felt mostly clearheaded. i cannot same the same for everyone -- peyton underhill, for one, seemed a bit tipsy when she spoke to me. ’

for once, aurelia’s hands betray her as her fingers tap against the surface of the table in front of her, betraying her discomfort. she recalls peyton’s flirty tone cutting through the music, calling her by a nickname reserved only for her closest friends. she remembers blushing, and masking it with a snide, passive aggressive comment before fleeing the situation before her racing thoughts spiraled into unwelcome conclusions.

‘ i remember looking at my phone to check the time and see if it was too early to leave -- which it was. it was barely 10:45. ’ she pauses, smirks to herself at her low tolerance for messy college parties, and continues. ‘ so i just went outside for a cigarette, and there, i had a chat with a couple of classmates -- eloise morris and eden lennox-montgomery. eloise left after a couple of minutes, though, because eden was upset and wanted to talk to me in private. also, because she knows that eloise and i don’t get along at all, so i was thankful for her brushing ella off. ’

aurelia’s demeanor visibly shifts as she’s forced to recount her first run-in with ella. not getting along is an understatement, but an interrogation is not the place to seek advice on conflict resolution. so she clears her throat, and continues.

‘ we barely spoke for ten minutes before eden went to get drinks, and i had initially planned on going back to the party and getting more drinks. but i felt guilty about being so dismissive, so i tried to find eden again and apologize. instead, i ran into eloise. again, the conversation was brief and thoroughly unpleasant. ’

aurelia doesn’t go in depth about the venom in her words every time they are directed at ella, or about the fact that they’ve hated each other since freshman year. her feelings towards ella are unrelated to the case, and also, probably detrimental to her character. she knows that in an interrogation room of all places, she has a reputation and a family name to uphold.

‘ i couldn’t really find my friend afterwards. i guess she was probably drinking her troubles away. i don’t know what time it was by then, and the next thing that comes to mind is the fire. but i’m certain that you already know about that. ’

‘ did you see anything unusual that night? was anyone acting out of the ordinary? ’

aurelia stills. she tries to hide it, and masks her unease with a sardonic roll of her eyes. she recalls the sight of a red-haired girl carrying a container of the same hue, and as the tension slowly starts getting to her, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and traces the watch on her wrist.

‘ it was a covington college party, detective watson. i’m afraid i am not sure what you mean with the ordinary. ’

she can tell that her answer is not amusing to the men present in the room. as they momentarily make eye contact, she forces herself to regain control of her breathing. so far, she’s been her usual icy self. she knows she cannot let them see the cracks beginning to form. that if they realize that her posture has gone from regal to stiff, and that the pattern of her breathing has changed, they might asking questions.

and she would have to come up with a believable lie to keep her secret -- that she saw her best friend, darcy kovac, at the time of the fire. running in the opposite direction from everyone else. carrying a red container, one that looked like it could’ve carried gasoline. loyalty is a foreign concept to aurelia, yet she finds repulsion towards the thought of incriminating darcy. so she feigns disinterest, looks back at the detective, and makes eye contact as a lie spills from rosy lips.

‘ no. i saw nothing unusual. ’

‘ can you tell me more about your relationship with melanie ? ’

‘ this question is pointless. ’

the statement is succint, and again, unamusing. before the detective can scold her, aurelia speaks again, begrudgingly. but honestly.

‘ however, for the sake of cooperation, i suppose i have to. we met in freshman year, due to mutual friends. even then, everyone seemed to think of melanie as some kind of goddess, and i’m afraid i disagreed. the two of us never got along, but that was the extent of our relationship. ’

it’s concise enough. she feels no need to go into detail of the two weeks wasted in vague attempts to please her friends at the time, when she clung to her prejudice firmly. stubborn, proud, she cared far more about her initial assumption being right than about being melanie rivera’s friend.

‘ do you have any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt melanie ? ’

‘ i do, ’ she replies, and by the detective and the chief’s expressions, aurelia can immediately tell that they are taken aback.

‘ i wasn’t the only person who disliked melanie. many others did, some far more ... passionately than me. i am not going to throw serious allegations around -- that would be unreasonable, ’ she clarifies, ‘ and i don’t know if anyone would be capable of physical harm. actually, i sincerely doubt it. however, i know that melanie rivera wasn’t as universally adored as you have probably been led to believe. ’

she is urged to give a name, and recalls the many times she’s heard some of her closest friends rant about their distaste of melanie. again, aurelia chooses to reveal less than she knows.

‘ i already told you i’d rather not make these allegations -- they’d lack solid foundation and i’m not willing to incriminate any of my classmates based on gossip. ’

‘ do you have any questions about how the case will proceed ? ’

‘ no, ’ she retorts plainly. eager to be done with this already, to leave the stuffy interrogation room and the detective and chief's scrutiny. aurelia’s usual apathy has returned, and as she stands, she shakes hands with the detective and the chief as she heads outside. as she begins walking back home, she lights another cigarette. 

[faithfuliltulip]

The Pretense of “We are One”

It’s taken me some time to sit down and write my thoughts, because they are so hard to put into words, but it’s something I feel I must do.

Over the last week I have seen a side of New Zealand that I had hoped would never come to be. I have seen our nation hurt beyond comprehension by a lone outsider who wreaked havoc on the lives of the Muslim community and, in fact, all of New Zealand.

But what I have seen since, is how the words and actions of our county’s leaders are wreaking havoc on a much larger group with virtually no consideration to the impact.

I am speaking about the law-abiding firearms licence holders of New Zealand. (I’m going to refer to them as the FALH community from now on).  Whether you like or dislike firearms, or agree or disagree with the changes that is being proposed, I want to put the following to you, just to consider the other side of the coin for one brief moment in time.

I am the partner of a FALH and I love him dearly. As for guns, I’m not particularly fussed by them either way, but can tell you that I will not ever own my own firearm nor can I fully understand the interest in them. What I can tell you about my partner and his guns, is that because of it, we can be together today. Let me explain; He distanced himself from people in his past with, let’s say, unsavoury interests as he didn’t want to risk his passion for the beauty, history and sport of firearm ownership. Thanks to that, we were able to meet and make a life together.

In all our time together, I have never seen him drunk once and never has he ever had a thought for driving even slightly tipsy – not because he doesn’t enjoy the occasional drink, but because he knows that if he takes a risk, something goes wrong, or he gets caught, it will cost him his firearms license. He is conscientious about firearm safety, sticking to the rules and laws of our country, and acting in a respectful way in all his interactions.

But now he is part of a community of people who have, overnight, been lumped into the same category as a madman. Permit me a moment to tell you about them.

The FALH that I know (and I know quite a few), are all the same type of people as my partner. They are courteous, caring, law abiding salt-of-the-earth guys and gals who would never dream of breaking any laws, let alone harming another person, because their love for their sport can be taken away from for the smallest mistake. You could be sitting next to them on the bus, living next door to them or even be sharing an office with them without ever knowing it. Because they are “good” people, like you and me!

People own firearms for a variety of reasons – some for sport, some as collectors, some for monetary investment, some for the history or beauty. Most of them own firearms for a combination of a few of these.

In our house, it’s because my partner has found a specific interest in the history and beauty of a specific era and the firearms that were made or used in that time. He collects a variety of other paraphernalia about those eras as well. He has discovered a discipline within firearm sports that he loves and has undertaken hours and hours of training to be a safety and a range officer; to reach the highest level of achievement in his sport.

Additionally, he has invested a significant amount of money in his firearms – he has bought, sold and traded over several years, to establish a collection of firearms he treasures and is so proud of.

I’ve heard this week that people say they cannot see the NEED for anyone to own a specific type of firearm. NEED… It’s a tricky word that! Me, I can’t see the NEED for alcohol, cigarettes, or gambling either, yet we still live in a society that allows all those things. And by my last count, alcohol abuse, gambling addiction and smoking-related illnesses have been the cause of far more destroyed families than firearms.

So yeah, maybe there’s no NEED for firearms, but in the bigger picture, as a society, we put up with a lot of worse things that we don’t NEED, so please excuse me if I don’t pay much heed to this argument, as it if fundamentally flawed.

This last week, FALH community have been to hell and back – well not back really, they are stuck in limbo. They are feeling sad and despondent and angry because the thing they have invested so much in, is being taken away from them. With virtually no consultation or consideration of the greater impact.

To add insult to injury, they are now being treated as if they pulled the trigger last Friday. This community is being ignored by our country’s leaders while they are making hurried, drastic changes that will impact the FALH community irrevocably!

Let me take a step back. The FALH community have for years said there are flaws in the Arms Act and the administration of it. They have urged for these flaws to be corrected, for those who are found guilty of firearm-related crimes to receive harsher punishments, for the Police to engage with them and hear them out. Then on Friday 15 March, things changed…

A madman broke the law by using a legally procured firearm and combining it with a magazine that is illegal to be used on his license (but which he can buy without ANY license!), and opened fire and killed 50 people, injuring about another 50. And suddenly our leaders were promising change. The firearms community thought this was finally the opportunity they were waiting on, to considerately, and thoroughly share their information, research, experience and advice with the country’s leaders.

However, no consultation was permitted. Changes made under urgency, behind closed doors, with very vague information was announced on Thursday.

With one announcement, our PM made near 250,000 people criminals for owning a firearm that they have not used in an illegal way.

These changes are going to shut down several small businesses. It’s nice of the PM to say she expects shops or wholesalers to send the “banned” firearms back to suppliers, but it’s really not that easy. Once a gun is imported into NZ, it cannot be “sent back”. Gun dealers have a number of firearms that they are selling in auctions, or that they have bought from Joe Blogs… Who are they returning it too? There is no where these guns can be returned too. They must be handed over to the Police for destruction with no guarantee of compensation to the true value of the firearm. With no consideration of the history of the firearm itself, or more importantly, the investment (in passion, time and money) of the person who must hand it over.

Families with mortgages and that need to put food on the table are going to have to carry the burden.

Our leaders have been saying that “they are us”, that “we are one” and that we are a nation that accepts and embraces diversity in all its forms. Really? Can we really say that, when in the last week, our leaders and the media have ostracised a community of 250,000 people? When we look in the mirror and pat ourselves on the backs for being such good citizens for standing with the families who were killed or injured in Friday’s shooting, let’s ask ourselves if “we are one” standing with the 250,000 other families that are also impacted by this tragedy.

My heart grieves with ALL the families that are impacted by this disgusting act of one loner who set out to achieve exactly this division we are seeing. Whether is a race, religion or passion that makes them a target of daily discrimination, I respect everyone’s right to believe, worship and take part in whatever activity they treasure, and I want to live in a country where we truly allow that for everyone.

With that said, I ask that the Government, engage with the FALH to discuss these changes, to not make a change that will impact the very people they are now refusing to engage with. I am asking that we embrace this group’s diversity too… the we can really be one, as the tone has been set over the last week...

[lachlantrash]

Random Cute Moments

So like random cute moments of you and Lachlan that the other guys 'accidentally' forget to edit out of their videos.

"Um Lachlan, you should come here." You call to your boyfriend, running a hand through your hair.

"What is it babe?" He says, coming in the room and wrapping his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Have you seen Vikk's new video?" You ask him, turning your head so you can look him in the eyes.

"No... Why?" He asks back.

"Well one of your fans just commented on my instagram post with this, "OmG I'M PRETTy SuRE THEy'Re A THINg I Can'T BReATHe, AT 12:16 oF VIKK's VlOG LACHlAn aNd (Y/N) aRE CUDdlING GAHHHHHHHh I ShIP IT SO HArD!!!1111!" Should we watch his video and find out?" You ask.

"Well yeah, now I'm curious." Lachlan laughs, and you go to Vikk's youtube and press play on the latest video.

~~~~In the video, at 12:16~~~~

"So we just got back to the rental, and lookie what we've got here." Vikk says, looking into the camera. He turns it so it's facing you and Lachlan on the couch, where you're sitting in Lachlan's lap cuddling with a blanket on. "Care to explain yourselves!? I have this on footage, is (Y/S/N) real!?" Vikk asks, making you and Lachlan laugh.

"Nooooo, of course not. We're just... Cold. You know, the skiing today and the Canadian snow makes people really cold." You laugh out.

"Yeah, just cold. Not dating, I promise mate." Lachlan laughs, burying his head in your shoulder.

"That would be believable... Except we're in a house with heating! Any other excuse? Hmm?" Vikk asks, laughing too.

"Well obviously we're not dating... We're just extra cold people. Yeah, being from Australia... Coldness strikes me harder... (Y/N)'s being a good friend and helping me warm up." Lachlan says, keeping his head rested on your shoulder.

"Well what's in it for her? This isn't adding up guys, I don't know if I believe them..." Vikk says. "I might just have to interview them. So (Y/N), if you and Lachlan aren't dating, who are you dating? I've heard you mention a boyfriend multiple times on this trip."

"Well, he's a blonde idiot who's obsessed with Pokemon, and he's Australian. I don't really know anything else about him." You shrug, looking at Lachlan and letting out a laugh.

"Sounds like you're a sucky girlfriend then, I don't think I'd want to date you." Lachlan says, and you laugh again.

"No comments from you, I initiate the conversation on this channel. What about you Lachlan, if you're not dating (Y/N), who's the mystery girl you tweet about?" Vikk asks.

"Some stupid short girl who has captured my heart, she really likes Doctor Who and is obsessed with cats, I forgot her name though." Lachlan says, laughing while burying his face in your shoulder.

"You cannot keep this in the video." You laugh, talking to Vikk as you stand up from cuddling with Lachlan.

"Awe c'mon, keep cuddling with me!" Is what you hear at the end of the video with a black screen, which is obviously Lachlan.

~~~~Back to where you currently are with Lachlan, not in the video.~~~~

"Shit... What should we do?" You ask Lachlan, removing his arms from you so you can look at him.

"I... I don't know? We could just like... Ignore it? Obviously I'll call Vikk and have him take the last two parts out because those are really suspicious but we could like... Ignore the rest?" He suggests, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright, that's fine." You say. "Now, how about we cuddle?"

~~~~Jerome's turn my dudes ~~~~

"Uhh Lachlan, it happened again!" You call from the bed. You're staying at Lachlan's place and while he's in the bathroom, you're going through your instagram.

"What happened?" He calls, stepping in his room with his toothbrush still in his mouth.

"Just come here when you're done." You laugh at his state, he dropped some toothpaste on his chest. A few minutes later he jumps onto the bed, immediately resting his head on your chest.

"So, what happened again?" He asks.

"Well, one of your fans commented on my instagram photo, "I hate to be that fan, but I think Lachlan and (Y/N) are dating because at 4:42 in Jerome's latest video, they were getting really flirty in the pool"... Do we watch it?" You ask.

"Is that even a question?" He laughs, already taking your phone from you to get the video up.

~~~~ 4:42 in Jerome's video~~~~

"And here we have it... A wild Lachlan and (Y/N) in the pool, be careful or they could attack." Jerome says, the camera focussed on you two in the water.

"Shut up Jerome, we're at war here, I gotta destroy her!" Lachlan shouts, holding his water gun high in the air.

"You could never destroy me, and you know it." You say, shooting at him with water.

"Well (Y/N), all's fair in love and war!" He calls back, moving out of the way so your water doesn't hit him. He shoots back, almost hitting your shoulder.

"Well, which is this?" You ask him, shooting water at him again and this time hitting him.

"Aah! I've been struck, cruel cruel world... I thought I could trust you (Y/N), I really did... Goodbye, tell my girlfriend I love her..." Lachlan says, pretending to die.

"I'm sure she knows, now get up you idiot and let's go for a round two." You tell him, laughing while refilling your water gun. "Get out of here Jerome, before I shoot you too!"

"Alright alright... Jeez, I thought I could get some vlog footage but I guess not." Jerome says, winking at the camera.

~~~~Back to current moment~~~~

"You know, you're friends really suck at listening to the one rule we set, not to have questionable clips of us in their videos." You laugh, running your fingers through Lachlan's hair soothingly.

"Awe c'mon, you know they mean well." Lachlan says. "At least this can be covered up, we could easily say that I was talking about someone else, I never said you were my girlfriend. It's also just a flirty situation, it's not as bad as Vikk's video." Lachlan points out.

"That's true, it could be worse. How about we don't say anything until someone confronts us about it, yeah? I doubt they will, but if anyone tweets us about it we can just say it was taken out of context." You suggest.

"Good idea babe, now how about we go to bed, we have an early day tomorrow..."

~~~~On to Mitch's~~~~

"Oh god, babe, there's more!" You laugh, watching the tweets come in like wildfire.

"What do you mean, stop being vague!" Lachlan calls back, coming in the room wearing just sweatpants and carrying two bowls of cereal.

"We're both getting tweeted things like "When you say you're 'just friends' but you're caught flirting in Mitch's video at 7:52", And "I bet (Y/N) pounced on Lachlan after the camera went off in Mitch's video"... I'm just going to put it on because I bet we're both curious as to what they're talking about." You tell him, placing your laptop on the coffee table and taking one of the cereal bowls from him.

"Alright, let's do this." He laughs as you click the link to the video.

~~~~ Mitch's video at 7:52 ~~~~

"Hey this is a good one, Your eyes are so blue like the ocean, and baby I'm lost at sea." You say to Lachlan, laughing at the cheesiness of it.

"Hey (Y/N), those are nice jeans, do you think I could get in them?" Lachlan says, making you laugh.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" You say, looking at Lachlan and giggling.

"C'mon (Y/N), stop flirting with me." Lachlan laughs, placing his arm around you.

"Shut up Lachy, if you were a triangle you'd be a cute one." You laugh, looking at more of the pick-up lines on your phone.

"Pshh, lame. Are you flappy bird? Because I could tap that ass!" He says, laughing at your reaction.

"That one wasn't funny, that's stupid and kinda rude. Am I just a piece of ass to you?" You pout in the video.

"Awe c'mon, you know it was a joke. You're more than that to me... I thought happiness started with H, why does mine start with U?" He asks, bringing a smile back to your face.

"Sometimes you can be really sweet." You smile.

"Only for you." And at that point the video goes back to Mitch, and he makes a face pretending he's puking.

"God, they're so gross, couples like that need to get a room and not flirt on my back deck." Mitch blurts at the end of the video.

~~~~Back to present time~~~~

"Oh my god, he called us a couple!" Lachlan says, a mouthful of his cereal falling back into his bowl.

"That was disgusting." You laugh. "I mean, technically he said couples like that. We could argue that he never called us a couple? And in the video there is an open beer bottle in front of us, we could say we were both tipsy and were just flirting, neither one of us meant anything more of it?" You offer.

"This is why I'm dating you, you're so smart." He says, spooning a new spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"And you're disgusting." You say, sticking your tongue out at him and going and writing out a tweet to explain what happened.

~~~~Preston's turn~~~~

"Uhh, (Y/N) we have a problem here." Lachlan says, walking into your bedroom with his laptop.

"What is it? I just wanted to have my boyfriend spend the night with no problems, what's wrong this time?" You pout from the bed, Lachlan joining you. You're laying on your stomach with your feet near your pillows, and Lachlan puts the laptop in front of you and lays beside you.

"I know, I'm sorry babe but look at the tweet I just got." He tells you.

"HA THEY THOUGHT THEY COULD HIDE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SMH LOOK AT 8:04 OF PRESTON'S VIDEO SMH (Y/S/N) IS OBVI REAL" You read out loud. "Well, let's watch it and see how much damage control we can do." You sigh, clicking the link to the video.

~~~~8:04 of Preston's video~~~~

"Guys, I think I'm officially the third wheel." Preston sighs to the camera, turning it around to show you and Lachlan holding hands while in line ordering coffee. "My babe Lachlan hasn't even told me I looked great today, he's too focussed on (Y/N)." Preston says.

Then Lachlan and yourself walk towards Preston, you carrying a cup of coffee. Lachlan sits next to Preston and you sit across from him.

"What, you didn't want a coffee, Lachlan?" Preston asks, his camera pointed at Lachlan and slowly drifting towards the table, where your hand and Lachlan's are still entwined.

"Not really mate, she wanted coffee when she woke up and told me we had to leave our room and come check out this shop, you told her all about it before we flew here apparently." Lachlan laughs.

"Keep your camera on yourself, mister." You laugh, blocking your face from Preston's camera that's made it's focus on you.

"Well why? You look beautiful today, (Y/N)." Preston tells you.

"Hey, keep your comments to yourself. Leave my girl alone." Lachlan says, though you can hear the humor in his voice. "You do look great though, (Y/N)." He adds.

"Oh shut up, I'm wearing yoga pants and one of your baggy hoodies, and I have no make-up on. I only left like this because I needed to try this coffee that Preston said was all the hype, and I can confirm it is." You say, and the cameras back to being pointed at you.

"Guys, in the comments below tell (Y/N) she looks great today, even if she's only wearing yoga pants and one of Lachlan's hoodies." Preston says, and you laugh on camera.

"Thanks Preston, but they don't have to do that." You laugh in the video.

"Well they do, because if Lachlan is going to stop telling me I look good for you, then the fans better too. I either get all the love or no love." Preston says, turning the camera back to himself and pouting.

"Awe Preston mate, you look great today." Lachlan says, coming into frame and patting Preston on the shoulder.

"It's too late for that Lachlan, you've replaced me with (Y/N). I'll never be good enough for you anymore." Preston says. Then the video goes black and Preston put sad music on and has subtitles that say '1 like and maybe Lachlan will love me again' and things like that.

~~~~Back to present day ~~~~

"Oh well, that's not that bad." You shrug, looking at Lachlan beside you.

"Really? You're not mad?"He asks.

"No, I'm not mad. You're the one that wants the relationship to be secret still, I don't really care. There's only a few suspicious things in here anyways, like you calling me your girl, and us holding hands. But both of those things friends can do." You point out, crawling on the bed so you're laying on it normally. "Now come cuddle with me, you giant teddy bear." You laugh, watching Lachlan roll his eyes at the name for him.

~~~~ Last but not least, Rob's turn ~~~~~

"Okay, (Y/N), I think we fucked up." Lachlan says as you two are cuddling on the couch, both of you doing your own things on your phones, but he's holding you as you both lay on the couch.

"What is it this time." You groan, already looking at his phone.

"This is the first comment I read on my instagram photo, it says "WE HAVE PROOF GO TO 10:47 IN ROBS VIDEO OBVI THATS YOU TWO MAKING OUT!!!!" It's a link to Rob's video and I swear to god I'll kill him if it's actually us making out..." Lachlan mumbles, clicking the link.

~~~~ 10:47 in Rob's video ~~~~

"So guys, I'd just like to thank you for supporting me and enabling me to do things like this, without you guys I wouldn't be able to go to a club like this," Rob says, taking a pause to spin around and show off the club with the fancy lighting. When he stops spinning, right behind him is two figures which is very obviously you and Lachlan, making out in the center of the bar. "And this is amazing, I can't believe I'm here with some really awesome people, Drake's here somewhere! God I love you guys, I can't thank you enough!" And then the outro plays.

~~~~ Back to present day ~~~~

"Well, I don't think we can come back from that one." You say, looking at Lachlan.

"Shit..." He mumbles. "Can you really tell it's us? Or, could it maybe be just people that look like us?" He asks.

"No Lachlan, that's obviously us. Look, I don't know why you want to keep us some big secret, but I'm honestly getting tired of it." You sigh.

"What are you tired of? I'm just trying to protect you, it shouldn't be a problem that I want our relationship to be hidden." He says.

"It feels like you just want to be single, or that you think that I'm not good enough, but no matter what it is, I'm sick of it. I'm going to go home, text me when you've decided what you want to do." You sigh, getting out of his embrace and walking out his front door. You start crying when you're out the door, realizing he's not going to try and stop you from leaving.

When you get home, you immediately fall asleep, crying to yourself. When you wake up, you have many tweets to you saying go check out Lachlan's video, and then you see his tweet yourself. "I love you, here's a video." And a link to his newest youtube video. You click it, and it's titled "Top secret footage of my girlfriend and I".

~~~~ In Lachlan's video ~~~~

"You know Lachlan, I wish you showed me as much love as you show Drake." You sigh to Lachlan's camera that you're holding, both of you in frame as he drives the car you're in, Drake coming through the speakers.

"You know I love you more than him, right (Y/N)? Just never make me prove it." He laughs, stopping at the red light and giving you a kiss. "Now I gotta edit this out, huh?" He laughs, kissing you again.

-Next scene in video-

"Now guys, I was on my way to (Y/N)'s and I asked her if she needed anything, and she texted me that she needed cat food, I think she's honestly a crazy cat lady." He laughs, walking through your apartment.

"Lachlan!" You call, running to your front door and hugging him to you tightly. "I missed you." You mumble, holding him to you for a few seconds.

"Did you miss me, or did you just need this cat food?" He laughs, hugging you back with the hand that's not holding the camera.

"Maybe a bit of both." You laugh, looking at the camera.

"I don't get why I'm buying you cat food, only one of your four cats tolerates me." He pouts at the camera.

"Awe Lachy, you know that's not true. They're just protective of me, besides even if they don't tolerate you, I do." You smile up at him.

"Wow guys, my girlfriend only tolerates me. You heard it here first. I'm in pain, I don't know if I can continue dating someone who only tolerates me." He says, mocking hurt as he looks at the camera.

"You know I meant that in a cute way, as in it doesn't matter what my cats think of you. And we both know this is never going on youtube either, you just called me your girlfriend in it." You laugh, sticking your tongue out at the camera pointed at you.

-Next scene-

"I love you." Lachlan says, the camera pointed at the two of you cuddling on the couch. You're laying on top of him, your head buried in his chest.

"Stop recording me." You mumble sleepily into him.

"I just said I loved you." Lachlan pouts, looking at the camera.

"Babe, I'm sick and I just want cuddles. I love you too, but I'm not anywhere near good enough to go on youtube right now." You mumble, turning your head to see he's still recording and you pout.

"(Y/N) I don't care if you're sick, you're always good enough to go on my channel. I don't care what you look like, and neither should my viewers. Your personality is what I fell for, not you're smoking hot face. Though that is a plus." He says, petting your hair.

"I love you, Lachlan." You smile, cuddling closer to his chest.

-Next scene-

"Doctor Who is on, get that camera out of my face!" You yell, trying to shove his camera away from you.

"No babe, we need to film an outro for the video we recorded earlier!" Lachlan laughs.

"Lachlan I swear, get that damn camera out of my face! I need to see how badly Missy and the Master fuck over twelve, I swear I'm going to kill both of them! I knew she couldn't be trusted!" You ramble.

"Okay babe, I get it. Doctor Who is more important than me. Noted." Lachlan pouts at the camera.

"Oh c'mon you dork, I never said that. Just cuddle me and let me watch my show, then we can do whatever you want."

-Next scene-

"So (Y/N)... Now that we're officially in America, what would you like to do?" Lachlan asks, starting his vlog for your first actual day in America.

"I want to go clubbing, find me a hot American guy while I'm here." You smile, letting out a laugh for the camera pointed at you. "You should see your face, I'm only kidding babe. That was just for you to use as content for your video."

"I don't want my fans thinking that you're looking for an American guy! Do you know how many more guys than there are already will be hitting up your DM's?" Lachlan asks.

"Fine, okay. Well then if I'm being honest, what I want to do in America is make many memories with the boy I love. I can't wait to go check out the Statue of Liberty with you, and go to central park where we'll just hold hands and be just as normal as the other tourists. And I want to go to so many little cafes and make memories we'll never get to experience with anyone else there. I'm excited to fall in love with you in different places, and to make so many unforgettable memories we can tell our future children one day when telling them the story of how we fell hopelessly in love with each other. That's what I want to do in America, if that's okay." You smile up at him and the camera.

"Fuck, I'm so in love with you." He says, leaning down to kiss you which the camera catches, and that's where the video ends.

You're crying tears of joy, so happy Lachlan told the fans about your relationship. There's a knock on your door, and you immediately get out of bed to run and answer it, knowing who it is. When you open it and Lachlan's standing there holding a bouquet of roses, you jump into his arms and give him a kiss. "I'm still so in love with you." You say, pulling away for just a second before pulling him in and continuing the kiss.

"Good, because I meant what I said." He says, kissing you back.

A/N I'm actually so proud of this you don't even know, I haven't written in awhile and this is the second thing I've written since my hiatus and I'm honestly so SO proud of it :))

[moreracquetball]

Youtuber AU Headcanons

(Lowkey inspired by a post by @whizzerbrowne who brought the idea to my attention and it has since dominated my brain). Let’s just get started:

(This got way too long, yikes. I had to include a read more line)

~ Three Youtubers: Jason, Cordelia, and Whizzer.

Jason

Type: He’s one of those younger, newer youtubers. He started when he was nine, and he talked frankly about stuff like divorce (bc his parents were going through a divorce at the time) and being an introvert and being autistic and being Jewish and dealing with a difficult relationship with his parents. He has trouble really talking to people so it was like really easy to just sit in front of a camera and start talking at them. Side note: this was totally Mendel’s idea as a therapy exercise that actually worked, okay? And (as we’ve seen in the musical), Jason has this raw honesty and wit to him that is very funny and real to watch. As he’s gotten older, he’s started talking about other things - like not such heavy topics. He talks about the things that he’s hyperfixated on (baseball, chess, the emoji movie, etc), and though his content is pretty erratic and all over the place, people just love his commentary and he’s amassed millions of followers in just a few years??

He also vlogs /a lot/, which is how his audience got to know Trina, Mendel, and Marvin.

Trina - Everyone literally adores her. She is v nervous and awkward in her cameos in Jason’s videos, but she is also very honest and vocal about her opinions and calls herself the Cool Mom even though Jason’s like “Mom, you don’t let me stay up past ten even when it’s not a school night” and Trina’s just “A Cool Mom can’t still care about your healthy and well-being??”

Mendel - As a one-off, Jason asked his followers to submit questions to Mendel the Psychiatrist for a collab idea with his stepdad, and his pieces of advice were kinda off the wall and funny and it quickly became a series and one of Jason’s most popular series ever. Some people are convinced Mendel is just playing a character so Jason has to be like “no he is actually like this. You have to believe me.” Also: Mendel gets a snapchat that everyone follows. He uploads grainy pictures of like trees and makes puns and constantly spams his story with pictures of Trina with captions like “look at how pretty she is” and “how did i get so lucky” and “rare photo of an actual goddess.” 

Marvin - Tbh, the audience’s reaction to Marvin is a little more mixed, esp at first. Jason had talked a lot about his difficult relationship with Marvin and his “Draw My Life” video did stir up some contempt for Marvin’s selfishness. But like, over the years and through small snippets of cameos, it is generally believed that Marvin has changed and grown up a lot and is like an amazing (but dorky) dad. His cameos in Jason’s videos are the best bc it shows how eerily alike those two are and at one point Marvin briefly talks about internalized homophobia and toxic masculinity and hints at the stuff that he is’t proud of, and everyone - no matter their outward opinion of him - has like a little crush on him. Also, the videos with Marvin and Mendel both?? Their petty arguing gets like millions of hits every time.

Jason also totally does all the trend/tag videos but also has like that sarcastic, almost ironic vibe at first but he ends up really sincerely liking it. 

Jason also does like monologues of his thoughts and opinions while also doing mini skits in between and he is iconic and a jack of all trades really.

He is very articulate and seems so mature but like any hate whatsoever does get to him a lot. He’s learned how to deal with his self-doubt and ignoring the trolls better than he had when he first started, but every once in awhile it still gets to him.

Also??? Remember that Roast Yourself Challenge trend??? Jason did that, and it was on the top page for like a solid week. He went too hard and too real.

Cordelia

Type: Totally like Hannah Hart’s Drunk Kitchen, are you even kidding me?? That it totally Cordelia. She drinks and talks about current events and makes really bad food puns and it is Everything. She also branches out after awhile and starts doing like satirical how-to videos. Lowkey once she tried to make a wry, parody version of a beauty vlogger how-to and she ended up having so much fun with it and her after make-up looked ballin, so she starts doing make-up tutorials, too.

She’s also very very proudly gay and out. Like, her username is literally lesbiancaterer. But she still gets like comments on her videos saying “are you straight?” or “her boyfriend must be a lucky guy” and it just makes her go “????? How could I ever make this clearer?” (once, in a collab with Marvin, one comment said “ahh, her and her bf are such #relationship goals” which then launched a very satirical, very deadpan boyfriend tag video with her and Marvin that made it abundantly clear just how fucking gay those two are).

Charotte first got introduced very very early in her videos bc once during a drunk kitchen, Cordelia cut her finger with a knife and called for her girlfriend and Charlotte went into complete Doctor Mode and started treating her immediately. Cordelia is a little tipsy at that point and starts blatantly flirting with her and calling her “my doctor” and that video’s comment section is just keysmashing and the phrase “my doctor.”

Cordelia does not try to hide her relationship in any way. She and Charlotte have done all those cute couples tags and Charlotte is the star of Cordelia’s social media and vlogs. Now they are #relationship goals.

Cordelia actually got into Youtube bc of Jason and everyone was like lowkey shocked when it turned out that these two popular but different youtubers knew each other and cameo in one another’s videos a lot and Cordelia is like “he is literally my godson, guys. Ofc I’m gonna be around him and support him.”

Whizzer

Type: Ohhh boy!! Whizzer is def the kind of youtuber that has been around on the platform since circa 2007 - are you even gonna try to fight me on that??? He is a fashion channel (also has like a series of the youtube version of fashion police) but also like a major storytime channel bc he’s been around and tells the craziest but realest stories of all time. He is also quickly considered The Gay Icon^tm of Youtube.

He is definitely one of the biggest youtubers on the platform but he also lowkey feels too old to still be on here and has that like Shane Dawson kinda feel of like keeping it real about youtube drama and rebranding himself and learning from stupid old videos when he was still like a shit 20-something that was lowkey problematic. 

He stans so hard for Britney Spears and Carly Rae Jepsen and he got Carly in one of his collabs and he could not stop smiling and fangirling and he is literally all of us.

He is very, very vocal and honest about his sexuality and sexual history. He has a lot of Body and Sex Positivity videos and speaks very bluntly about the importance of self-esteem and body image and safe sex.

(One of his most popular videos is the one with him candidly speaking about having HIV and he talks about his mistake with unsafe sex and all the terrible stigmas around the topic. He talks about how it’s both a physical and emotional struggle, and he also talks about treatment and awareness and prevention and seeking emotional help to combat depression).

He arranges a collab with Jason bc they are alike in that they always speak candidly about issues and struggles and have like the exact same sense of dry, almost scathing humor. Whizzer meets Marvin bc Marvin is like “Jason, there is no way you’re meeting a strange man who you met over the internet. I am definitely going to be the one that goes with you.”

(Awkward moment when Marvin and Jason get to Whizzer’s apartment, and Marvin and Whizzer’s profiles light up with one another from one of those websites like Grindr). Whizzer has like lowkey commented on Jason’s videos before with lewd comments about his hot dad, but like this is so not what Whizzer had been expecting?? Yeah, at the end of Whizzer and Jason’s collab video, Whizzer puts like a small blooper reel and it’s him continually flirting with Jason’s dad (who’s behind the camera) and the Internet suddenly has a new fave ship.

(Marvin and Whizzer totally messaged each other and hooked up like the next day).

But like, they keep the budding relationship very underwraps bc they both really don’t want it to affect Jason’s channel and neither really think at first that their whole arrangement will go anywhere close to serious because Whizzer has never been in love or had a steady boyfriend and Marvin cannot hold a relationship either even after his divorce.

But of course they fall in love, and of course the internet knows something’s up. Whizzer keeps vaguing on Twitter about the new man in his life with weird tweets like “I can’t believe I’m deliberately sleeping with a man who UNIRONICALLY knows every word to Allstar” and “get you a man who always sends that courtesy ‘thank you.’ text after you send him a dick pic.” And when Whizzer vlogs, he always makes sure to keep the camera trained on himself but you can see that his eyes are always looking away as he’s like smiling at someone who does not want to be on camera. Also, Jason’s weekend vlogs have cameos of Whizzer in them now.

They mess up when in one of aforementioned Jason’s vlogs, there’s a grainy clip of Marvin and Whizzer in the background and Marvin kisses Whizzer’s cheek. The internet loses their minds

(After nine/ten months of dating, Whizzer and Marvin abruptly break up and neither really acknowledges it. However, weeks after their break up, Whizzer decides to make a story-time video about this fucking asshole boyfriend that broke up with him over a chess game. He wanted it to be like both petty but also very funny because that is such a ridiculous story, but like when he’s editing it, he notices himself being like on the verge of tears in some parts and being overly bitter and tense, and he never uploads it and he realizes that he isn’t over Marvin like he had said he was).

(However, Whizzer does end up making a story-time video later about how Jason’s baseball game brought him and Marvin back together).

After they get back together, they’ve worked out their issues and are couples goals now and they do not hide their relationship and Marvin makes cameos in both Whizzer and Jason’s videos/younows and it is incredible.

Through Jason and Marvin, Whizzer and Cordelia meet and they become best friends. They collab all the time and they complain about queer struggles and they talk about their relationships and get drunk on camera and be weird, loud idiots and those videos get tons of views.

And Whizzer gets candid about how he’s always felt like alone in the world and hasn’t really had the opportunity to rely on anyone but himself but through Jason and Marvin, he meets Cordelia and Charlotte and Mendel and Trina, and even though they might not get along all the time and some people are closer to other people, they’re all his family and he never thought that he’d really have one that close before. It’s one of his most vulnerable videos.

The most successful videos on all three’s channels are the collabs of the three of them together: Jason and Cordelia and Whizzer. And they become like one of those Youtube cliques that collab all the time and tweet about each other’s videos constantly and always hang out with one another at all the events like Vidcon and Playlist Live.