#literally stayed up all night working on that project and stumbled into open shop on monday on the verge of collapse

[verystressedcollegestudent]

my ei partner will be like "oh im so sorry i didn't expect you to do 90% of the project i was going to start the day before it was due" like GIRL IT'S A 10+ PAGE WRITEUP YOU CAN'T START MONDAY WHEN IT'S DUE TUESDAY NIGHT

[jeoniius]

Next Life | kth (m)

☆ summary:  Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader

☆ genre: angst, smut.

☆ warning: sexual content, angst

☆ word count: 4k

☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.

Love. Hate. 

It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out. 

You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window. 

You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it. 

You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.

As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.

Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him. 

And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.

7 months ago

“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind. 

“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.

“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.” 

“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back. 

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down. 

“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back. 

“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him. 

“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest. 

He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind. 

Kim Taehyung. 

The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it. 

Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.

You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.  

You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward. 

You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line. 

The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally). 

You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact. 

Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.

Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys. 

He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him. 

But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay. 

The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York. 

You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex,  just lots of sex to be exact. 

But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.

You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.  

But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.

Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened. 

Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.

The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.

Tae: where are you?

Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid. 

Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?

Tae: baby, you’re scaring me. 

Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence. 

A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom. 

You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong? 

You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall. 

You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck. 

“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him. 

“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.” 

He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.

Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.

He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’

A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside. 

That was the first mistake. 

“I love you so much,” you said. 

You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong. 

4 months ago

Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.

“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea. 

Tea. 

You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you. 

“And then what? Get into another fight?” 

“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.

What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there. 

You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes. 

“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.

Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room. 

You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you. 

Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together. 

As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.

And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.” 

“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.

“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.

“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.

“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?” 

“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly. 

“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.

You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything. 

All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with. 

That was the second mistake. 

“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”

“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.” 

“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed. 

“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside. 

You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried. 

Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried. 

Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.

That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was. 

And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted. 

2 months ago

“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled. 

“What are you talking about?” he looked curious. 

“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.” 

“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes. 

“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly. 

“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight. 

“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house. 

The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned. 

As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded. 

Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.” 

You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?” 

He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything. 

You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.  

You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook. 

Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?” 

You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on. 

“Y/N-”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,

You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?” 

“I don’t mean that.”

“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face. 

“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.” 

“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off. 

That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.

It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.

You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am

You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.

You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory. 

Soon the judge walked in and the process went on. 

At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it. 

But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason. 

Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love. 

As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.

And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less. 

Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night. 

taglist: @mwitsmejk​

[wzrd-wheezes]

My Jumper! Pt 1: Fred Weasley x Reader

“In her dreams there was a man. A tall man, with a pretty face and fiery red hair. His face sported a cheeky grin accompanied by some freckles dotted across his nose. When Y/N woke up from her nap, she had forgotten about her dream completely. That was until the same man appeared in her dream the next night. And that night after that…”

Fred x Reader Fluff .Warnings: swearing .1.7k words

Masterlist here

Part 2 Here

AN - I really want to do a part two of this so please let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Taglist: (pls let me know if you want adding for future fics!)

@amourtentiaa

Y/N’s hands were clammy as she gripped onto the cardboard box she was carrying. She walked into the house, kicking the door shut behind her and set the box on the floor. This was it. She had finally moved out from her parent’s house and into her own place. New houses often seem eerie and daunting with their plain walls and unfurnished rooms. However, this particular house felt welcoming, like it had been lived in, but not in a bad way. In a way that made each room feel like memories had been made in it. As she walked through each room, she noted bits of furniture that had been left behind, a plush green sofa in the living room, an old closet in her bedroom, and a large dining table in the kitchen. She smiled as she looked around. She didn’t have the patience for flatpack furniture right now. Even magic couldn’t make assembling it bearable.

It took Y/N a few days to fully unpack and feel settled in her new home. She had never lived by herself before and the past few days she had fought off the loneliness by filling her time with doing jobs around the house. Luckily for her, the house didn’t need too much doing to it, just a splash of paint here and there and some new furniture. It was one night when she was laying in bed that she noticed a particularly dark stain on her ceiling. She waved her wand, trying to remove it but the mark was stubborn and stayed put.

The next morning, Y/N rolled out of bed and decided that she was going to try and tackle the stain on her ceiling. She trudged into the bathroom and rifled through the cabinet looking for some sort of cleaning product. As she searched, her hand brushed over something unfamiliar. In an attempt to pull it out to examine it, she sent the entire contents of the shelf cascading to the floor. She winced as something bounced off of her head and smashed on the tiles.

             “How the fuck did that get there?” She swore, picking up a fragment of glass and inspecting it. It was a deep purple colour, bits of what looked like an old label still stuck to a large section which lay on the floor. An earthy yet sweet smell spread through the room. Aftershave. Sighing, she grabbed a cloth out of the cabinet and began to mop up the mess. She could have sworn that the bottle of aftershave wasn’t in there when she had unpacked her things.

The scent seemed to linger in her house for days. It was almost a week later when she got another whiff of it as she lay on the sofa in the living room. The smell was strong but sweet, a sort of burnt vanilla. She didn’t mind it too much, in fact, every time the smell of the aftershave would waft through the house, it would bring a smile to her face. Y/N was due back at work in a few days, so she decided to spend her last few days of freedom lounging on the sofa in front of the television. It was while one particularly bad muggle programme playing that she fell asleep. She was dreaming as she napped, slipping in and out of consciousness as the television played on in the background. In her dreams there was a man. A tall man, with a pretty face and fiery red hair. His face sported a cheeky grin accompanied by some freckles dotted across his nose. When Y/N woke up from her nap, she had forgotten about her dream completely. That was until the same man appeared in her dream the next night. And that night after that…

             “He must have just been in that stupid Muggle programme I was watching the other day,” she grumbled as she lay in bed, staring at the mark on her ceiling that had yet to vanish, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s where I know him from.”

She drifted off back to sleep for a few moments before she jolted upright.

             “Shit.”

She had forgotten that she had her first shift back at work today. Y/N didn’t have a fancy job as an Auror or anything like that. She worked in a coffee shop a few streets away from her house and she loved it. She glanced over at her alarm clock as she stumbled out of bed, she only had twenty minutes to get to work. Rushing over to her wardrobe, she fumbled around in the dark for a few moments before pulling out a jumper. The jumper was knitted and a deep red colour, she didn’t recognise it but she didn’t have time to faff around looking for something else so she threw it on and dashed out of the door.

It was a steady day. Customers came in to get their drinks and then seated themselves at tables to read books or to work on projects or just to relax in the gentle hum of the coffee shop. The sun was beaming through the large glass windows, shining light through the petals of the flowers that sat on shelves. Y/N was leaning against the counter, day dreaming as she looked out of the window when the ringing of the bell on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Her eyes shot up to the person that walked in, her vision was slightly blurred from looking out into the bright light.

             “Morning,” the man grinned as he approached the counter, “Could I have two caramel lattes with an extra shot, please?”

It took Y/N a few moments to reply to him, she was sure she knew his face from somewhere. She just couldn’t place him.

             “Yeah, no worries,” she smiled. Merlin, he was handsome.

             “I like your jumper,” he gestured towards it, “My Mum always knits us a jumper each for Christmas,”

             “Oh, really?” Y/N replied, “that’s really cute. What’s your name by the way?”

             “My name?” he raised an eyebrow at her and smirked.

             “Yeah…” she blushed, “For- for your drinks.” The man chuckled and shook his head.

             “It’s Fred.”

Y/N turned around to make his drinks and Fred moved to the other end of the counter to wait. It was silent for a few moments as Y/N measured out the caramel syrups into the cups.

             “My jumper!” Fred exclaimed.

             “What?” Y/N turned round quickly to look at him.

             “That’s my jumper.”

             “Is this supposed to be some sort of cheesy pick up line?” she raised her eyebrows at him.

             “No, no, no,” he laughed, “you’re literally wearing my jumper. Look, turn around,”

Y/N turned around to catch a glimpse of herself in the shiny metal of the coffee machine. A large gold ‘F’ was knitted into the wool.

             “How the..?” her face flushed red furiously.

             “Where did you get that?” Fred asked, looking amused.

             “It was just in my wardrobe this morning. I didn’t think I recognised it,” she forced out an awkward laugh, “I have no idea how it got there,”

             “Me either,” he smiled.

             “I finish in a few minutes so I can go home and change so I can give this back to you,” she was still blushing intensely, “I’m so sorry,”

             “It’s fine,” he grinned, “It looks better on you anyway.”

 His last comment lingered in her mind as she gathered her things from the staffroom and shrugged on her coat. Fred was waiting outside for her, leaning coolly against the wall. The sun was setting as they walked back to Y/N’s house.

             “Have you just moved here, then?” Fred asked, making small talk with her.

             “Yeah, I only moved in a little while ago,” she answered, “it’s just round this corner.”

 As they rounded the corner, Fred stopped in his tracks.

             “That’s why you found my jumper in your wardrobe then.”

             “What?” Y/N opened the front door and let Fred in.

             “This used to be my house. My brother and I used to live here,” he looked around the living room, “We’ve moved back above our shop now. I do miss this place though,”

             “Ah, so it’s your aftershave that’s stank my house out then?” she joked.

             “Aftershave?” he looked at her quizzically.

             “Yeah, the purple bottle?” she went to her cabinet and grabbed a fragment of the glass that she had saved. She handed it to him and he studied it, turning it over and over in his hands.

             “I have this bottle at home,” he said, still staring at it intently, “I used it this morning, so I don’t know how it’s got into your cabinet,”

             “Oh?” she frowned a little, “I’m going to go up and change,”

 She didn’t realise that Fred had followed her up to her bedroom until she had turned around to grab another shirt.

             “Merlin, you made me jump,” she said startled, quickly throwing her shirt on before he could see too much of her. He just smiled and crossed the room to where her bed was. He pointed up at the ceiling.

             “Good to know that that mark is still there,” he chuckled.

             “I can’t get rid of it. Not even with magic. How did you even do it?”

             “Well, my brother and I own this joke shop, you see. One day we were testing out some products in here and they kind of exploded…”

 Fred ended up staying with Y/N for dinner. They lost hours and hours chatting, later learning that Y/N was in the year below him at Hogwarts.

               “I should probably get going,” Fred said, getting up, “Is it okay if I keep this?”

He showed her the fragment of his aftershave bottle that she had saved.

             “Of course, it is yours after all,” she smiled.

Fred stopped for a moment as he got to her front door.

             “I know this sounds odd,” he bit his lip nervously, “but I feel like we were supposed to meet… My stuff showing up in your house, you wearing my jumper to work and me coming in. It’s just strange, don’t you think?”

             “Magic works in strange ways,” she grinned.

             “I’d really like to see you again Y/N,”

             “I’d like that a lot,”

             “Wicked.”

[pickledbeefwastaken]

The Unending Kindness & Patience of Dave Katz - CHAPTER TWO

New chapter below the cut!

Chapter 1 here:

(TW: vomiting, mentions of prostitution, mentions of domestic violence)

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

1. He was very trusting—naively so.

2. He was surprisingly hard to ruffle

2. He was really fucking beautiful.

Klaus had figured out three more important things about Dave by the time he’d made it out the front doors of the hospital:

He was very trusting—naively so.

After Dave suggested that Klaus should let Dave cut his hair for him, he’d gone on to further suggest that he come to his house for him to do this. Klaus. Klaus, who’d come stumbling into his arms with a head wound and had taken scissors to his head within five minutes of waking up. Klaus, who had only been half dressed and shoeless. Klaus, with track marks all up and down his arms. Klaus, who had hissed at Ben, who was very much invisible to anyone but him, right in front of Dave.

Dave had also left Klaus alone in the room while he went to get a nurse, figuring that Klaus would stay put and stay laying down like he asked him to (he hadn’t). Before Dave could come back from getting a nurse, Klaus was up on his feet and stumbling out of the room. He snuck quickly down the hall, managing to make his way almost entirely to the front doors before, to his utter bad luck, he ran quite literally into fucking DAVE. He’d caught Klaus and asked him why he was out of bed, and when Klaus told him he needed to go, Dave had just nodded and followed him outside.

He was surprisingly difficult to ruffle.

Dave hadn’t even asked why Klaus wanted to leave so bad. He’d just looked at Klaus and his wide, panicky eyes and took his elbow like there was nothing weird about any of this and helped guide him outside. He hadn’t gotten defensive when Klaus had snapped at him earlier, he hadn’t seemed too terribly weirded out by Klaus’s hair cutting stunt or the way his eyes drifted to seemingly empty spots in the room.

He was really fucking beautiful.

Dave’s expression had been surprised when he caught Klaus by the biceps as they ran into each other, big blue eyes looking into Klaus’s own. He’d smiled at him with dazzling white teeth, he let Klaus hold his strong arm for support as he led him outside and while Klaus had more pressing priorities than a hot guy helping him like an obedient service dog, he wasn’t blind, okay?

Now that he’d made his not so sneaky escape from the hospital, his energy was waning quickly. He kept his arm wrapped around Dave’s for support until Dave led him toward a bench to rest. He must have noticed Klaus’s sagging shoulders and labored breathing. While Klaus felt an instinct to do something to resist the kindness he was being shown, he was once again tired and Dave seemed nice and though he knew he shouldn’t trust him, he didn’t feel like he had much fight in him.

“Okay. So, can you tell me why we needed to get out of there so bad?” Dave asked, voice so stupidly, perfectly patient that Klaus looked at him like he suspected he might actually be an alien under all that perfect skin.

Klaus blew out a breath and leaned back against against the cool concrete, eyes shifting nervously to the doors of the hospital.

“Because I don’t have health insurance and if they figure out who I am, they’ll call my emergency contact who I was supposed to remove but I haven’t exactly gotten around to that yet,” he said honestly, “Plus, I really hate hospitals.”

He didn’t snark or joke or use any of his usual defenses to skirt around the truth. Maybe Dave would try to march him right back inside, but either way, he wasn’t in much of a position to fight if Dave wanted to take him anywhere right now.

Dave nodded slowly, “Okay. I can understand that. The doctors said that you had a pretty good concussion, but beyond that and the stitches, you’re probably okay. I’m sure they would want to check you out one more time before you leave, but that’s your choice.”

Klaus knew Dave was right—the doctors would check him again and take forever doing it and making him suffer in there for hours until they finally signed discharge forms and that’s assuming they’d let him leave without paying or at least giving a name so they could bill him later. Klaus shook his head. Concussions could be treated at home—they sucked, he remembered a particularly nasty one Diego had gotten after a mission gone wrong as kids, but it’d been fine to handle at home.

“No, I just need to get rid of this hair,” He said, leaning forward.

The shakes were setting in, making his hands tremble. He pressed them between his knees in an effort to still them. His spine and shoulders and hips ached in a bone-deep sort of way. Okay, so he needed to get rid of his hair and get a pretty good-sized score, one big enough to stave off his withdrawal with enough leftover to offer to Pete as a means to get back inside. Where was he going to find that though? He was half-dressed and most of his belongings were back at Pete’s. He had no money, no nothing, nothing worth trading except for himself, which he didn’t anticipate being easy considering the freshly stitched gash along the side of his head and the dried blood along his face and torso.

Okay, so he needed to cut his hair, take a shower, and then figure out a way to get money that didn’t involve prostitution. He couldn’t trust people not to be too rough with him right now, not when he was too weak to defend himself or endure much rough-housing. He was in so much pain that he was pretty sure he wasn’t even capable of getting it up right now, not that it was really a requirement. Still. Prostitution was probably out.

He saw the sun barely glimmering above the horizon, signaling the last of the daylight hours. Once he had managed to get his hair short enough and maybe even had talked Dave into letting him take a shower, that still left him on his own in the streets in the middle of the night. By the time he managed to steal something, the pawn shops would be closed. Dealers weren’t usually too keen on trades that didn’t involve sexual favors, so he wouldn’t be able to trade up until morning, which means that he didn’t have anywhere to go tonight. Shit, he’d be sleeping outside. He should have grabbed one of those hospital blankets on his way out, or at least a towel, something.

This was all making his brain hurt, trying to figure out how he was going to get through the night and it made him feel frustrated and angry and desperate. He kept his eyes down on his hand where they were pressed between his knees. He didn’t realized he was crying out of frustration until a fat, hot tear landed on his wrist.

“Alright then, I’ll help you get it cut. Come on,” Dave said patiently, standing and offering his hands to Klaus.

Klaus swiped quickly at his eyes and took Dave’s hands, grunting as he was hauled up to his feet, very carefully not meeting Dave’s eyes. He’d probably noticed his tears, but Klaus was hoping he’d do the macho, polite thing and let them mutually pretend the tears weren’t happening.

“Shit. Hey, it’s okay.” Well fuck, no such luck.

Klaus pulled his hands out of Dave’s grip and turned more bodily away from him, signaling that he really was not wanting to talk about it. He took off walking, steps smaller than usual, feeling stiff and woozy and to be honest, he had no idea what direction he was stumbling off into. Dave was back at his elbow after a few paces, touching with just his fingertips, more hesitant after Klaus had torn his hands from Dave’s.

“Okay, hey. Come on, this way.” Dave said, nodding his head in the opposite direction.

Klaus stopped and let out an irritated breath, but turned and walked in the direction Dave was indicating.

“You don’t even know where he’s taking you Klaus. You need to call Diego.” Ben said at Klaus’s side.

Klaus wasn’t having this argument again. He swung a hand weakly in the direction of the voice, ‘shh’-ing harshly and waving Ben off. He was too tired to deal with Diego’s shit, too tired to try to do any of this himself, too tired to care if Dave drugged him or held him down or tied him up or killed him, he was just too tired. The thought of having to go through so much tonight, sleeping outside, having to figure out what to steal and then actually successfully stealing said thing, pawning it, finding a dealer, and getting back to Pete’s while concussed and also beginning withdrawals sounded like Hell so he didn’t care what Dave did to him. It couldn’t be worse, could it?

Dave led him into the parking garage and Klaus followed, having to remind himself periodically to keep his eyes open. Before Klaus knew it, he was standing in front of a car and Dave was opening a door for him. He wasn’t sure that he remembered the entire walk over. He let muscle memory take over, the familiar motion of lifting one leg into the car and leaning down to sit being executed, but he manage to smack his forehead on the frame of the car before he made it in. Klaus gasped in pain, both hands flying to press against his forehead as shooting heat seared through his head accompanied by a throbbing ache that felt like it might burst through his skull. His knees buckled instantly and he went down.

He was caught just before hitting the ground by Dave’s arms under his armpits. The jolt from the catch alone sent another wave of pain through Klaus’s head and he nearly dry-heaved, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness, the withdrawal, or the pain.

“Woah, woah, careful. I’m sorry, here. Let me help,” Dave said, voice gentle.

Klaus didn’t fight, he was boneless as he let Dave guide him into the car, with Dave taking more of his weight than was probably fair. He kept his eyes squeezed close and curled up in  the seat. He was vaguely aware of tears on his cheeks, so he pressed both palms over his eyes, hiding his face against his knees  as he breathed through the pain. It took another moment to register that Dave’s hand was on his calf, thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles there.

“Are you okay?” Dave asked softly.

Klaus sniffled and wiped his face before he opened tired eyes and looked at him, nodding minutely.

“Yeah. Just hurts,” he breathed.

Dave nodded and let go of Klaus’s leg, standing up from where he’d been crouched and though it was ridiculous and a testament to how messed up Klaus must be, he missed the touch. It had been kind and comforting and it wasn’t the kind of touch he often received.

Dave only moved a little though, opening the back door to reach in and grab something before returning to crouch beside Klaus. He shook out a warm, flannel-lined denim jacket and draped it over Klaus’s bare torso, tucking it up under his chin. Klaus just curled into it, pulling his bare feet up onto the seat to tuck under the coat too, feeling the ache in his spine that told him that the chills would be starting soon. He closed his eyes and tucked his face down into the collar, noting the scent. It was warm and soft and comforting and delicious and it made Klaus sigh in relief, snuggling in further. He was more comfortable than he’d remembered being in a long time.

“Thanks, Dave,” Klaus breathed.

He felt a hand ruffle his hair gently and then something wrap around him and click—a seatbelt, he realized—and then the door closed, the sound making Klaus whimper. Dave got in the driver’s seat and closed his door, again making Klaus stiffen and grunt. The car was started and then they were moving, which was awful, absolutely nauseatingly awful, but Dave turned the heater on and that felt nice and it’d grown dark out, so that was nice too.

He did his best to let his thoughts be lulled by the movement of the car, breathing in the scent at the collar of Dave’s jacket. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was being woken by a hand on his knee. He jerked, opening his eyes blearily under the wash of the car’s interior lights. His eyes found Dave and he relaxed a little.

“Sorry. We’re here, you doing okay?” Dave asked, voice gentle and patient as he removed his hand from Klaus’s knee.

Klaus nodded at first, but then felt a rolling sensation in his stomach and jolted a little, hands scrabbling for the seatbelt. He quickly amended his reaction into a shake of his head, a little too frantic, which hurt his head all over again and sent bile rising up his throat. It took two tries to get the belt unbuckled.

“Gonna be sick,” he breathed, scrambling out of the car like a baby deer on ice, thankfully caught by Dave.

Dave helped him to his feet and led him quickly the two steps to the grass just in time for Klaus to heave. His knees buckled, but Dave caught him yet again with an arm around his waist, supporting his weight. The press of the arm against his abdomen only made him heave again, harder this time. There wasn’t really anything in his stomach, but he spit out whatever stomach acid had risen, breathing hard through the spinning sensation that followed.

“F-fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dave,” he said, voice quivering.

“No, no need to apologize. It’s okay. Are you alright? Let’s get you upstairs and I’ll get you some water,” Dave said patiently—always so patient.

Klaus nodded, feeling a little more settled—still shaky and a bit nauseous and dizzy, but he didn’t think he was going to throw up again. Dave let Klaus go when he seemed confident Klaus could hold his own weight, returning to the car to close the door before coming back to Klaus’s side.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Dave said kindly, placing his hand against Klaus’s elbow in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar.

[go--ask--alice]

Ephemeris

One

Alice Napier.

To say I am merely happy is an insult to the english language and to the emotion in itself. I feel as though I am in a state of euphoric bliss!! Yesterday may be the single most incredible day of my life. The runner up being the first time he said 'I love you' and a close third that night on the rooftop in London.

Being that this is the first entry into my new journal, let me get out as many details as I can, for posterity sake!

This had to be the most traditional non-traditional wedding that has ever taken place in Gotham City. It pains me to even write this but I fear that the man officiating lastnight is probably dead in a ditch somewhere! Otherwise only myself, J, and the ever loyal Frost were in attendance but it was still a lavish affair. Unlike most bride-to-be's I was left in the dark for most of the planning of this wedding. He kept mumbling something about "project: royal wedding.." and "must be perfect!" then scooting off to meet with Johnny. This went on for a good month or so after we got back from overseas, and while I knew it would be a very short engagement I did not expect that by year's end we would be married.

We had returned to Gotham just in time to see the leaves change color. No sooner had the first snow fallen was I informed that we needed to pick a date. After much consideration and bickering it was decided that we would be married on the first day of winter. The snow would be blanketing the earth and there was the perfect little space on the far edge of the property. A small alcove of trees obscured it from any prying eyes that may be keeping tabs on my elusive Joker and it allowed us the privacy that J so desperately strived for.

The one thing I was given control over was my dress. The only soul to see it besides me was the seamstress that created it. J had relinquished this tiny bit of power to me so it could remain a surprise for him until yesterday, you can never say this man isn't a traditionalist! The woman who made the dress has worked for him for years and is responsible for many of his most iconic looks. If anyone has ever come across The Joker when he purposely places himself on display in one of his clubs has seen her exquisite work. My needs for the dress were few; I insisted on pure white in the finest silk available, a (faux) fur capelet, and Chantilly lace imported from England. Beyond that I let her have fun, I trusted the final product would rival anything J was planning to wear. An apprentice of hers was tasked to tailor J's suit for the ceremony as well as both of our shoes which were custom made and imported from Italy.

I woke up yesterday morning at the literal crack of dawn with as much excitement as a kid on Christmas morning. To the best of my knowledge J didn't sleep at all which isn't a surprise but I didn't even hear him come upstairs, he was supposed to be sleeping in the room across the hall for the night while I stayed in our bedroom. I'm sure he was holed up in his office til all hours of the night, my beautiful brooding man.

There was a note slid under the bedroom door from my love. That note will be between these pages forever.

Knowing that I wouldn't be seeing him until the afternoon I had to calm my nerves on my own and resorted to taking an incredibly long bubble bath followed by some tea and lunch in my room. I began the arduous task of getting ready a few hours before I was due to head downstairs. Frost had my dress delivered to the room sometime in the late morning and refused to give me any clues as to what J had in store for us, though he did seem genuinely excited and I even caught a grin on his stoic face.

I am no professional but I think I did a pretty wonderful job with my hair and make up. Dark and classic. My hair left long and flowing just how I know my J likes it. I had it re-dyed not long after we came back state side so the sapphire blue was as vibrant as possible. My make up was a bit harder to pin down, I've learned in our time together that smudge proof is my best friend! A dark smokey eye and deep crimson lips, the lipstick imparticular needed to stay in place as the our night began.

I managed to be ready and downstairs mere minutes before 3:30 and as I descended the stairs I was met with quite the sight. Johnny Frost in the most dapper suit I've ever seen him in was anxiously tapping his foot and checking his watch while peaking out the large stained glass doors. No doubt unsure what to do if I was late coming downstairs. After a few moments I had to put him out of his misery and make my presence know, the look on his face was pure relief. I can only imagine the stress J had put him under to get everything ready, perfectionist is an understatement when discussing The Joker.

Wordlessly I linked my arm through his waiting elbow as he opened the door to the garden. I can only hope to transcribe the magnificence that awaited me on the other side! The sun was low in the afternoon sky, this being the shortest day of the year, and it illuminated the pine trees that bordered the back of the property. On the ground was a path of small blue lights like will-o'-wisps just starting to glow leading through the trees to the small clearing where I knew my love was waiting for me. As we began to walk I was hit with a wave of emotions so strong that I stumbled for a moment and Frost had to steady me. He leaned down and in his gruff voice whispered, "I've never seen Mr. J so excited, he really does loves you Miss Alice." This of course only spurred on my emotional roller coaster and I squeezed his arm as confirmation that I was okay to continue.

Inside I was an absolute wreck. I was literal moments away from marrying the man I had dreamt about for years, obsessed over in the media and in print, the man I isolated myself from the world for. He could have killed me the moment we met yet somehow here I was about to vow my life to him again this time officially. I will never say that I am the woman who fixed The Joker, there is no fixing his tortured soul, but I genuinely believe I have opened his heart and proved that all creatures are deserving of love. That we all have someone that sees we are worthy of that love.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost didn't realize we were only a few steps away from the tree line, I could see his silhouette against a sea of blue roses, the light bouncing off the stone wall making the flowers appear to glow around him. He was speaking very low to a nervous man who was nodding profusely at him with terrified wide eyes. It took only the briefest of moments for him to see me. Frost had silently let go of my arm and was walking around the perimeter of the small clearing til he was at J's side. Our eyes met for the first time all day and time ceased to exist.

There he stood, my Joker, my love, my forever, his shocking green hair slicked back perfectly from his face, his lips a bright cherry red were spread into a toothy smile I had rarely seen. It was hard to pull myself away from his magnetic blue eyes to take in the rest of him. Faintly I could hear music playing and I slowly began to walk towards him. My beautiful Joker had spared no expense on his suit, perfectly tailored to his slim muscular body. The jacket was inky black with a faint brocade pattern in silk thread, the pants were the same luxurious fabric as the jacket only solid. A black silk shirt pulled tight over his slightly heaving chest, I could see the rise and fall as I walked closer to his side. This was one of the few occasions where I have seen J with a proper tie done up correctly, I believe it was a trinity knot, and a gorgeous new tie pin made of black cobalt with onyx stones. The shoes were a favorite of mine, I actually pick them out in a shop in London and they were custom made by a cordwainer based in Italy. And of course in proper Joker style his powerful hands were adorned with all of my favorite rings, the only flashes of gold in his entire outfit, I was giddy with the anticipation of adding a new one to his left hand.

I had chosen to not carry a bouquet down the aisle, instead I wore a single perfect blue rose in my hair. This particular bloom was laying atop my new journal when I found it yesterday morning so it was only fitting to wear it to meet my Joker at the alter.

When I was finally only a few steps away he reached his pale hand out to take mine and pull me close. I could see the restraint plain as day on his face as he let go and took a step back, he gave himself a long moment to look me over and I could see the lust growing in his eyes when they met mine again. The anticipation we both felt in that moment was beyond our imaginations. Later in the night J told me it took all his control not to shoot the officiant between the eyes and send Frost away so he could have me right there on the spot! Dramatic? Yes, but I believed him completely.

The ceremony itself was brief, the man brought in was obviously terrified but did a fine job. I only found out after the fact that preforming this act was in exchange for a large debt that was owed to The Joker. In doing this favor it would clear the debt but also thanks to the man's connections within the local government it legitimized our union and would secretly have the necessary documents sealed and notorized. I swear I heard a muted gun shot not long after we exchanged vows but I am not going to question it.

Our vows were succinct but incredibly powerful. They are the one small piece that I will forever keep to myself. Suffice to say, the love that lives in our hearts is something that will never be broken, not by time, space, or anything the world throws at us. He is my King and I now proudly stand at his side, his Queen and his partner.

As I write this we are currently on a very brief Honeymoon, one of business and pleasure, J had some pressing business to attend to so I am here patiently waiting for him to return to the rarely used penthouse we have been staying in. I still want to record the events that transpired after the actual wedding, hopefully I'll have some time soon to write them down. For now I want to be prepared to greet my husband when he returns, I have not yet had my fill of his devilishly powerful body.

-Alice

[2-fast-2-curious]

Searching for the right words

Pairing: Auston Matthews x Female Reader

Summary: You and Auston can’t wait to get home after a charity event.

Words: 1220

Warnings: Um where to start...dirty talk, unprotected sex but that’s just the works for me. IDK this just feels really dirty.

A/N: Wishing my baby boy the best of luck in his Game 7.

“Look at the gorgeous girl I get to take home.” Auston said as he filmed you on his phone, you were hiking up your long dress to walk down the stairs. “The hottest thing in this whole fucking room”

“Aus, who are you even recording that for?” You laughed, as you put down your clutch to hand your coat check ticket to the attendant.

Auston shrugged. “Myself, you when I’m on the road you say you don’t feel pretty, maybe I’ll take out the sound and send it to my parents, or your parents.”

“Lots of people want to see you.” You blushed as he ended the video.

“You looked so handsome tonight. You clean up nice, baby.” You hugged yourself close to his side, giving him a kiss on his cheek. You were proud of your boyfriend for being an excellent conversationalist and raising money for charity.

You and Auston were standing against the wall allowing Auston’s hands to reach behind you to squeeze your butt without attracting too much attention. “Fuck, I wanna touch you so badly.”

“You’re touching me now.” You tell him, reaching underneath his suit jacket to caress the muscular torso that was underneath his dress shirt.

“Did they stumble onto Narnia or something?” Auston had been lusting after you ever since you had finished getting ready. He had tried to convince you that he only needed ten minutes but you were not impressed, telling him you didn’t want to risk messing up your hair or makeup. Auston had spent the rest of the night watching you from across the room as he mingled with the gala attendees. “Do you think there’s a closet or something we can sneak off to?”

“Auston” You scolded your boyfriend. “You need to be patient, I’m sure it’s like a maze of black coats in there.”

Auston, leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You’re the one who’s going to need to be patient, Y/N. When we get home and I get my mouth on your-”

You and Auston were interrupted by the attendee handing back your coat. Auston helped you slip it back on as the two of you walked to the valet who already had Auston’s car waiting for you.

“You looks so sexy when you’re driving, Aus.”  You sighed. “So focused.”

You tried to sneak your hand to Auston’s thigh but he caught it. You frowned, even as Auston brought your hand to his mouth and gave it a little kiss. “I wasn’t going to do anything Aus.” You fibbed, trying to project an air of innocence. If your dress wasn’t so tight you might’ve considered slowly taking it off while Auston struggled to keep his eyes on the road. Maybe you keep that in mind the next time you went dress shopping.

Luckily you and Auston lived pretty close to the venue so you and Auston didn’t have to wait long to start taking off your clothes. Auston started by taking off his shoes and you reached down to take off yours too. “Keep them on.”

“Aus, my feet hurt.” You pouted, shifting your weight back and forth on your heels.

He took off his suit jacket and hooked an arm under your knees to support you as he literally swept you off your feet. “I think I should just carry you up and down the stairs as part of my offseason workout.” He carried you to the bedroom and gently placed you on the King sized bed. “You’re way more fun to lift than weights.”

You laid back, looking up at Auston with a blissful expression on your face.

“Let me help you with your dress, Y/N.” Auston rolled you over and pulled down the zipper on your dress. It slipped off your hips and Auston took care to make sure the fabric didn’t snag on your stilettos before laying it down on a

“You know those tubes of Pillsbury crescent dough? You pop them open and all the dough spills out, that’s how I feel right now.” You flipped over, watching as Auston pulled his dress pants down his thick thighs.

“Babe if you keep dirty talking like that I’m going to cum in my pants.” He replied sarcastically as you stripped completely naked on the bed, pulling off your shapewear, bra, and panties. You laid back onto the pillows as you waited for Auston to finish getting naked.

“You’re so beautiful.” Auston said, kneeling on the bed, his hands exploring the skin that he couldn’t earlier. The curve of your breasts, the softness of your stomach, the dip of your hips all got Auston’s undivided attention. His erection was heavy between his legs and you wanted him inside you so badly. Auston hovered over you, his cock so close but still too far away as it pressed against your thigh. His mouth sucked kisses across your decolletage, from one shoulder to the other, leaving bruises in their wake. You arched your back, your core wanting to get closer to Auston’s member.

“Such a good girl, getting this juicy little pussy wet for me.” Auston had you hold your legs open, spreading yourself wide while allowing Auston to admire the Louboutins which were still on your feet as well as the pussy between them. He spat on your slit and rubbed his saliva in with his thumb, causing you to moan. He took your legs and rests your ankles on his shoulders, he gently nudged your entrance with his hard cock, as you moaned, your walls fluttering around his tip. As he thrusts deeper, he presses your legs against you.

“Auston, please, I need your cock so badly.” You beg for him in between breathy moans. Auston lifted your hips off the mattress as he grabbed them for leverage to go deeper. When he did that, you swore it felt so good, you saw stars. That was his favourite part of this position. How deep he was able to go to help you reach a new realm of pleasure. Auston continued moving in and out of you, as your body thrashed from the orgasm he had given you.

Auston soothingly stroked your hair. “You did so well for me baby. Gonna cum inside of you, okay?”

You nodded as you felt stream, after stream of hot cum deposit deep inside your cunt. He was momentarily slumped over you as he kept himself inside you for just a moment or two longer. He pulled out and used the tissues on the bedside table to clean up any excess cum that was dripping between your legs.

You yawned and pulled the covers around you as Auston went to the bathroom. “You gonna sleep in those, baby?” Auston asked, coming back with a glass of water and your makeup wipes.

“Maybe.” You replied sleepily, taking his offering. You didn’t want to imagine what your makeup looked like right now. Especially since you had forgotten you were wearing any and had rubbed your eyes.

“Here let me help you.” Auston removed your shoes and massaged the balls of your feet as you cleaned off what was left of your makeup. Auston joined you underneath the covers as the big spoon, tucking his softened length between your slightly sticky thighs to stay warm, his face buried in your neck.

Part 1

[merlinhurricane]

Oo! I finally got a prompt idea! first I was thinking a basic coffee shop au for shiniida (since you made me ship them) but then I thought iida probably wouldn’t work in a coffee shop (“somethin somethin *waves hand around* coffee health somethin”) so he probably ACTUALLY works in one of those juice places that are all natural and put kale in your drinks and sleep deprived shinsou stumbled inside and asked for a black coffee and couldn’t understand why the cute barista was giving him that look

oooooh, yes!! thank you, luv. please keep em coming!!

(tags: shiniida, college au, no quirks au, swearing, iida is no mere barista—he’s a fckin Manager check yoself, multiple POVs bc i Can’t Not)

***

Hitoshi didn’t understand what was happening. Why was this man staring at him like he had a third head? Second head, whatever. Jesus, he was tired.

“Sir, we don’t serve coffee,” came the insistent voice behind the counter.

“Why the fuck not?” Hitoshi’s glared blearily at him, eyes burning. What kind of place didn’t serve coffee? Especially a place called “Pep Up”. What was peppier than fucking coffee?

His outrage and confusion must have shown in his eyes because the hapless employee rattled off an explanation about natural and organic juices and healthy body supplements. Hitoshi didn’t need any of that. Rubbing his temples and trying to get the world to come into better focus, he groaned. “Okay, you’re my last resort. Can you just, like, talk to your manager and see if you can rustle up some caffeine for me? I’ll pay extra. Please,” he begged. The prospect of walking further away from campus in search of actual coffee was a daunting one.

“I am the manager.” The man before him affirmed. “And I can assure you we do not have anything caffeinated. Not only does caffeine create a mild dependancy but it is also a diuretic and can have lasting consequences if imbibed on a daily basis.”

“Mm-hm, delicious consequences,” Hitoshi murmured, causing the manager to stiffen in what Hitoshi assumed was disapproval.

“Indeed.” The manager sighed. “I suspect more than caffeine or any kind of energy supplement—” Hitoshi brightened at the word “energy”—“you simply need sleep.”

Hitoshi forced out a hollow laugh and attempted once more to bring the broad shop manager into focus. The lights in here were too harsh, the colors too bright. He should have known it wasn’t a coffee shop. Just about ready to give up on this place and try elsewhere, he turned toward the door.

Somewhere between the decision to leave and the execution, however, there was a disconnect. Instead, he found himself staring at a display right next to the door. It was full of oddly shaped bottles in an eye-searing shade of orange. He suspected he would’ve stayed in that exact spot for even longer if something cold hadn’t been pressed into his hand, nearly giving him a heart attack.

“Wha?” He instinctively shoved away the cold, despite it actually being a bit of a relief to his warm, probably dehydrated skin.

To his surprise the cold lingered, along with an amused huff of air against his cheek. Hitoshi looked up to see Mr. Manager. Dear god, he was pretty. Shoulders for miles, square jaw, baby blues, an undercut—he would have been too overtly gorgeous for Hitoshi to even consider if it weren’t for the glasses (he had a weakness for them) softening his look and the fact that the guy was literally holding Hitoshi’s hand wrapped around a plastic cup of smoothie to keep him from dropping it. “Uhh.”

The smoothie was bright green. Why did everything have to be so bright?

“Kale-kiwi mix.” The manager explained, dropping his hand once he was sure Hitoshi had a good grasp of the thing. “With some other stuff. It’ll help you sleep.”

Hitoshi snorted. Sure, this guy was hot, but Ryan friggin Gosling could’ve handed him this smoothie, and he still would’ve been skeptical about the results. Still... “How much do I owe you?”

The man smiled, a sharp, bright slice of white in his ridiculously handsome face. Oh no. “Free of charge. That’s not even on the menu, so it doesn’t have a price. Just, do me a favor and recycle the cup, okay?” He paused for a moment, mouth curling into an enchanting moue of consideration. Oh no. “Maybe after you get some sleep.”

Dazed, exhausted, and utterly smitten, Hitoshi nodded and wobbled out the door into the night, sipping on his definitely-not-coffee.

***

Hitoshi made it home...somehow. He remembered the streetlights stringing long squiggling tails of illumination across his vision, and that was his Stage 3 sleep deprivation indicator. He was sincerely lucky he hadn’t passed out on the walk back to his place.

On the counter sat his nearly finished smoothie. It had been surprisingly tasty, though the thickness made it feel necessary to drink water before he brushed his teeth and collapsed into bed. He was feeling surprisingly well-rested. At least, he assumed this is what “well-rested” felt like, since he couldn’t recall ever experiencing it before.

Snorting at his sardonic thoughts, he moved to throw away the cup before remembering what the hot manager had said. Technically, he didn’t have to acquiesce to his request—Hitoshi didn’t even have a recycling bin in his apartment. Still, the guy had put up with Hitoshi at Stage 3 and hadn’t even charged him for the damn drink. The least he could do was not fuck up the earth with one damn plastic cup.

Campus probably had some recycling bins, and he had to hit the library to finish his project anyway. Tucking the near-empty cup into the elastic cupholder on his bag, he began the trek to campus.

About halfway there, he realized he’d forgotten to make cis morning coffee. Him. Forgetting coffee. What was the world coming to?

Already mourning the lack of caffeine buzz he’d have later, he stopped in front of the library bins. A list of accepted recyclables and their corresponding numbers wwas posted above the special recycling receptacle. Sighing, Hitoshi pulled out the smoothie cup and checked the bottom for a number, then immediately got distracted.

On the bottom of the cup, written in fine black sharpie was a phone number along with “Pep Up and call me. :)”

***

Tenya had evening shift again, and as he walked in that afternoon, he couldn’t help but be apprehensive. It had been a long time since he’d given out his number, and the few times he had done it this way in the past year, none had used it. Whether that was because they were heathens who didn’t recycle or check the recycling number before they did or if they simply weren’t interested, he didn—couldn’t know. And that was the way he liked it.

The stunned and exhausted man from yesterday had caught his eye first because he was acting...odd. Tenya had watched him standing outside the glass double doors, staring up at the shop’s sign as if it was the best thing he’d ever seen. As if it were a candle and he were the moth. When he’d finally gotten inside, he’d continued to watch as the man’s eyes flitted around the room, intelligence and exhaustion shining there in roughly equal measure. He was built like a rock-climber—slim, tall, long arms and legs, and a bit hungry-looking. Tenya had a history with that look. Tenya would be willing to rewrite history for that look.

Going by the bulging bag and air of stress coming off him in waves, he was likely a student at the local university. When he finally approached the counter, Tenya met a set of pale, violet eyes and lost his train of thought entirely. Thankfully, the man was definitely too out-of-it to notice. He smelled like a combination of moss and coffee, so it was no surprise that he was looking to obtain some of the latter.

Despite his clearly tired state and the shortness of the conversation, he’d managed to make Tenya laugh more than once. What would he be like when he was firing on all cylinders? Tenya wanted to find out.

“You’re a cheeky bastard, aren’t you?” A voice shook him from his reverie, drawing his gaze to the front doors, propped open at the moment to let in both the afternoon breeze and the very man who had been occupying Tenya’s thoughts. A pity his words weren’t more...encouraging, though. He sighed.

The man was shaking a grimy plastic cup in his fist even as he walked up to the counter to confront Tenya. He was amused to see that the guy’s hair stood on end just as much now as it had when he’d first appeared in the shop—which was mostly empty right now, thankfully. He was manning the counter while the current barista was on break. He met those lovely, startling eyes head-on. Time to get this over with then. “I apologize for having offended you.” Why couldn’t he have just ignored his advance and moved on like everyone else? Tenya thought sourly.

“The only thing I’m offended by is your lack of faith in me.” The man’s face was still adorned with dark smears beneath his eyes that nearly matched the irises in color, but his face was more mobile, his voice and gestures more lively. “Telling me to sleep before attempting to throw something away doesn’t show a lot of confidence in my cognitive abilities. Kind of a slap in the face.”

Tenya knew the feeling. “And yet here you are, presumably having slept and still holding a dirty cup,” he commented, voice dry and throat drier. Had he not seen the number then? “You do know you’re supposed to wash them before recycling, right?”

“Who has time for that?” He complained.

“Who carries an empty cup around with them all day just for the sake of argument?” Tenya countered.

The man was just as quick to respond. “Who writes their number on the bottom of the cup? How’s that strategy been working out for you?”

Tenya remained silent for a moment. So he’d definitely seen the number. “...what is this about?”

“Mostly wanted to apologize for probably acting crazy last night. And to thank you. For this.” He held up the cup. It was still frustratingly unclear whether he meant the drink or the number.

Tenya took a chance. “You could’ve just called me.”

He was rewarded with a crooked smile. “Truth be told, I also wanted to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated you.” He leaned against the counter. “You seem like the kind of guy that only exists in my imagination.”

Tenya flushed and looked away to hide how pleased he was. “You’re ridiculous.”

The man just grinned wider and bent over the counter to read his name tag. “Tenya, huh? I’m Hitoshi. Can I buy you a drink?”

—End—

***

[littlemisscrosspatch]

The Christmas Card

A/N: *waves* Here's some Christmas joy(ce) to spread the Jopper love! I've posted this over on A03 under my old Tumblr name, diamondpawprints.

They had left high school back in the Summer and ever since, they had spent a lot of time together. Hopper couldn’t believe it was nearly Christmas and he had decided to do something special for Joyce. They had always been friends throughout their childhood and throughout school, but they had become closer in their last year after working on a final major project together. It started off with study sessions together which started to last longer and longer as they chatted the night away, sharing cigarettes and staring up at the stars. Wanting to get a clearer look at the night skies, leaving their work behind, they would drive up to Hawkins Hill and sit on Hopper’s jacket, looking up. Hopper’s arm would find it’s way around her and she would lean into him. When the weather got colder, they would move into the car, snuggling under a blanket to stay warm. Nothing would happen between them, just the spark growing brighter.

So here he was, writing her a Christmas card, asking her to meet him outside Enzo’s. He had arranged for his mate to set up a picnic (after much bribing) on Hawkins Hill. After they ate, they would take a walk to a place where they could watch the stars. He knew exactly what he was going to say to her. He smiled as he sealed the envelope and headed out to post it.

....

He hadn’t seen her for a week, which was unusual. She had always been busy when he called. She would have received his Christmas card today. and now he stood outside Enzo’s at the time he had said. He wrapped his jacket tighter around himself as the breeze turned chilly. He looked at his watch. She was half an hour late. All kind of thoughts rushed through his head. Had she received his Christmas card? Had he written the wrong address on the envelope? Had it got lost in the post? Had she received it, but thought it was ridiculous? That last one was too horrible to think about. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was just contemplating about whether he should drive round to hers when he heard her laughter drifting through the breeze. He looked up as she walked around the corner. Her smile lit up everything around her.

“Joyce!” He called, waving at her with the bunch of flowers he had brought with him.

She locked eyes with him, when suddenly her head was turned by someone else coming around the corner, flinging his arms around her and kissing her on her head. Hopper’s heart sunk as the couple walked towards them.

“Hey, Hop.” Joyce chimed. There was an awkward pause as Hop tried to place the face of the man she was with. “Er, Hop, this is Lonnie. Lonnie, this is Hop.”

Lonnie took Hopper’s hand and shook it, too hard for it to be anything other than, ‘back off, she’s mine.’ He suddenly remembered Lonnie had been at their school, but a few years above them.

“Ah, Jim Hopper.”

“Lonnie.” Hopper acknowledged, nodding at him.

“They’re beautiful flowers, Hop.” Joyce admired the bunch clasped in his hand. “Oh, are they for a girl? Are you on a date?”

Hopper stumbled over his words. “Uhm, er. Ye, yeah. She’ll be here any minute, actually.”

“Well, we best be leaving you then. Come on, Joyce.” Lonnie said as he grabbed her hand and started to pull her away. The anger bubbled up in Hopper. Nobody talked to Joyce like that.

“Well, have fun.” She said, giving Hopper a look that told him she had received his letter, but it was too late, she was with Lonnie. He watched them walk around the corner before turning and starting the walk home. He threw the bunch of flowers in the trash, making a note to himself to go to the military recruitment office in the morning.

....

It was nearing Christmas and Joyce had a rare day off. It was the only one she booked all year. It was middle of the week so she could get all the Christmas shopping done when it was less busy. Now the boys were older, it took her a lot less time, so she was sat on the couch enjoying a cup of strong coffee. She was as relaxed as her anxious mind could let her be when she heard the postman outside.

She left it for as long as she could before getting herself together and bracing herself for an afternoon of shopping. Before heading out, she got her mail and sat back in the car. She wouldn’t normally open the envelopes until she got back, but one particular envelope caught her eye. It looked like it had been bashed around and the handwriting seemed familiar to her. She opened the envelope and pulled out a Christmas card. It was of Santa’s workshop, elves rushing around, multi-coloured presents in their hands, on their way to Santa’s sleigh. Snow was falling all around them, lights glowing in the windows, looking warm and cosy. Stars sparkling in the sky. A heart shape cloud wafting from the chimney. Joyce smiled and opened the card. Starting from her name, she read down.

Joyce,

Meet me outside Enzo’s. 7.

I want to wish you a Merry Christmas in person.

Yours,

Hop

She put the card down, confused. They had only just been talking about their Christmas plans. She had invited him and El over to theirs so El could have her first proper Christmas.

“Almost like a family.” Hop had joked. Joyce just smiled.

She put her car into reverse and headed out to get the Christmas shopping done, all the while, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

6:45pm rolled around and Joyce drove to the centre of town, choosing a parking spot where she could watch Hopper appear. She didn’t want to be too early. 7 o’clock came around, there was still no sign of him. 7:15 came and went. By half past 7, the butterflies dissipated, worry setting in. What if something had happened to him? He was never late, that was always her. She turned the car back on and made her way to Hopper’s cabin. As she pulled up, the lights were glowing and inviting inside. She clambered out, not knowing what she was going to find inside. Knocking on the door loudly, she heard someone trip over something with a gruff, ‘fuck.’ The door opened to reveal a dishevelled Hopper.

“So that’s why you’re late.” Joyce flicked her hand in front of him, almost as if telling him off.

“I’m sorry, what?” Hopper looked at her confused through rubbing his eyes.

“You were supposed to meet me at 7. Outside Enzo’s.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Joyce.” He shrugged. “Can you come in, it’s bloody cold.”

Joyce stepped into the warmth, brushing past his arm. It sent shivers down through her own arm and she quickly pulled away.

“You told me to meet you at Enzo’s at 7.”

“Joyce, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. You sure it was me?”

Joyce gave him a death stare. “Well whoever it was, they signed it with your name!” She pushed the card into his chest and he almost fell backwards.

“Geez! What’s this?”

“Just, read it!”

As soon as Hopper looked down and saw the card he had written 25 years previously, give or take, his face dropped.

“Well? Who do you think it was? Playing a ridiculous prank like that?”

Hopper stared at the card and traced his handwriting with his thumb before looking up.

“It was me.”

It was Joyce’s turn to look confused. “But I thought you said-“

“I wrote this during the Christmas we graduated high school.”

“Wh- what?” She took the card from him and looked down at it.

“Oh my god. It must have got lost in the post.” Hopper rubbed his cheeks.

“But-“

Suddenly, the realisation hit Hopper like a ton of bricks. His card hadn’t been delivered. She hadn’t been ignoring him. It had been a mistake. She could have been his all this time. Her kids could have been his.

“I-“ He was lost for words, overcome with emotion. Sara could have been Joyce’s if that goddamn card had been delivered. They could have been a family. “Joyce, I need to take you somewhere. EL? I’M POPPING OUT!” He bellowed, to be greeted with a ‘Yeah.’

...

After getting into Hopper’s car, they took off towards Hawkins Hill.

“Where we going, Hop?” Joyce asked.

“Where I wanted to take you back then, when I sent the card.”

“To wish me a Merry Christmas in person?” Joyce looked at him, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

“Maybe.” Hopper glanced back at her, a glint in his eyes that was only reserved for her. “Here we are.”

Joyce followed him up the hill.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It should be around here somewhere.” They walked for five minutes until Hopper stopped suddenly. “Here we are.” He said as he vanished into the bushes.

“Hop! Where have you gone?”

“Come in through the trees.” She heard him call from the other side. She brushed through and she found herself standing in an opening. It wasn’t very big, but could fit both of them comfortably side by side.

“Wow.” Her breath was taken away by the view of Hawkins, the lights twinkling cozily beneath them.

“I found this place a few days before I wrote that Christmas card to you. I had a picnic ready and waiting and I wanted to count the stars with you.”

Joyce turned to him. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“You turned up with Lonnie.”

Joyce’s mouth turned into an O. “Those flowers, they were for me.”

“Yup. I just never got the chance to give them to you. I had wanted to take the next step in our relationship, but I had left it too late.” He stared out across the town. He had some horrific memories down there, but also some of his most beautiful, a lot of them shared with the one stood next to him in that moment in time. “I had everything I was going to say to you that night all planned out.” He laughed and rubbed his forehead. Joyce turned him gently and moved so he had to look at her.

“Tell me now.”

“Joyce.” He whispered, shaking his head and shutting his eyes.

“Please.” She reached down and squeezed his hand, trying to encourage him. He looked up, seeing the love sparkling in her eyes. He couldn’t help it as he leaned down and kissed her gently. She immediately responded by deepening the kiss and wrapping her hands in his shirt to pull him closer.

As they broke apart, Joyce whispered, “Merry Christmas, Hop.”

[dschribe]

What Would Jake Do?

I taped a photocopy of Jake’s latest press photo to the cinder block wall above my desk, and on it I wrote with a Sharpie in all caps, HERO.

If I looked over my shoulder, I could see the real Jake, across the hall, past the copier, though the open door to his office, beyond his assistant Joan’s desk, seated in profile on the couch he used as a desk chair, leaning over paperwork on the giant coffee table he used as a desk.

Sometimes he, JBC, would say, “DPS, you got a minute?”

I’d go across the hall to discuss a piece of copy, some item of marketing, or be handed a 5 x 7” index card with some notes on it, written in Sharpie, which is where I got the habit. (I once called his handwriting “angst-ridden” and he said immediately, “That’s not angst, it’s Sharpie.”)

I was a week out of college, a college I never once went to on a Thursday, because a midweek season’s pass to Stratton Mountain was way cheaper than the one for the weekends. Plus I had a growing skateboard and snowboard retail business I needed to tend to.

Burton, just a couple of hours up the road from me, was my biggest supplier and, I thought, likely the only one that would still be in business in ten years. So it was there, in my senior year, I sent the one and only unsolicited resume in my life. Nobody called for months.

About six weeks before I graduated, I was having the greatest game of my life on the Funhouse pinball machine outside my shop. The vendor who collected money from the games let me paint my quarters red. He’d fish them out and give them back to me, so long as I didn’t block paying customers. I got real good at that game; the phone rang about 45 times before I lost the ball.

The Burton HR woman scolded me for letting the phone ring so many times during business hours, but then told me that Burton folks wanted an interview. I thought I could hear an eye roll. But I scheduled a time, and a couple of weeks later I drove up to meet with Dennis Jenson, the head of marketing. A couple of more weeks went by. Then I got the callback to meet Jake.

I’d seen Jake a few times but never spoken to him. Although the sport was still small, we all looked up to him. He was older than all of us. Killing time in the UMass library I had stumbled across an issue of Time Magazine with a cover story called “Twenty Something.” It was about my generation. I didn’t realize I even had one until I read it. (It would be a little longer before they called us Generation X.) Our generation wasn’t supposed to have heroes, but we had Jake. And maybe Time had it all wrong; three years earlier they had called snowboarding "the worst new sport."

On the drive up to the Burton headquarters for my interview, I grew increasingly nervous about the meeting. When I got close, I pulled over in a panic and paced around the outside of my car. I contemplated turning around. Leaving my hometown of ten years, my friends, my business behind: it was all terrifying. It was also terrifying to go meet my hero. They say you never should.

I had a portfolio of my work—photos and press coverage of my shop, the skateboard and snowboard demos we held, and our skateboard camps. I had the letter that proved I had been the one to get “snowboards” as an entry into the Yellow Pages. I had the work I did to help get the word “snowboard" literally into the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, via my lexicography teacher. And there was a photo of a gang of kids, all mid-ollie, from skate camp.

The first time I taught anyone to ollie was the night before a skateboard contest I held to raise money to open my shop. As they signed up, the kids saw me building the ramps in the roller rink where it was going to be held, and demanded they get to skate them before the big day. Late evenings after the rink closed, we built and skated on the ramps. When any kid asked for help, I showed them what little I knew, and I knew enough to ollie.

One kid had been trying all week but not getting it. He told me it was impossible for him to learn it. I put out a scrap of 2x4 lumber. I pointed out that it wasn’t even that high; it was 1.5” x 3.5”. A few pointers and attempts later, and he cleared it. We high five-ed and I went back to my amateur ramp carpentry.

The contests was a success. The clear winner, who everyone knew would take the prize, snapped his board in half in the middle of his run. Nearly every kid in the place shoved their own board out onto the course so he could keep going. I started to see this wasn’t at all about competition. This became more clear to me as the kids were leaving: they all thanked me. That one kid I taught to ollie told me it was greatest week of his life. He was so genuine. The feeling of getting a kid to believe he could do something he thought he couldn’t do, changed me.

It took me a long time before I could see it, but ever after my life became a pursuit of trying to help people see that what seemed impossible for them, was possible, including levitating a wooden board with wheels off the ground. Snowboarding seemed just as impossible when I tried to learn it. Then it clicked and it was like walking on water. I sold snowboards knowing everyone who learned would be likewise transformed.

As I debated turning back from my interview, I flipped through the portfolio on the hood of my car. I studied the photos of skate camp, and thought about how snowboarding was starting to change how those kids saw the mountains and themselves. I had to go see Jake.

In the interview, he let me do most of the talking, and I went through my portfolio. Then I told him the story of teaching kids to ollie, of teaching a community to skateboard, and how snowboarding felt like the next step—maybe to teach a generation to ride.

He said, "Well in that way we’re a lot alike. That was a hell of a pitch. You should work in marketing.” I got the job, and with it, started a career I never imagined: in marketing.

I went to my graduation ceremony, car packed with all my possessions, then drove to Vermont that night.

My marketing coordinator job, as one of four people in the Burton marketing department, required writing a lot of copy. My first meeting with Jake was to write a press release about him, as we had no stock bio to give the media. In the process, I got to spend hours with him, hearing his whole story, and I hadn’t even gotten my first paycheck yet.

I came back to Jake a few days later with the piece. I titled it “Everyone Calls Him Jake.” I had no idea what the process would be when I handed it to him. He pulled out his Sharpie and started writing notes on it as he read. For the most part, it remained intact—but what he marked up was an impressive collection of notes on grammar, style, and narrative voice. He cared about the words. I had found a great editor.

He said, “This sounds like someone who went to college wrote it.”

I said, “Yeah, let’s not underestimate our riders’ intelligence.”

He nodded in agreement and kept reading.

In the opening paragraph I referred to Jake as the “patron saint of snowboarding.” He said he was’t sure if he was cool with the title. I explained to him that any other way to say it—inventor, pioneer, sponsor, champion, mogul—either wasn't accurate or would alienate core riders who didn’t want an authority figure in their sport. He finally put his pen down and said, “Okay, leave it.”

My writing continued that summer, on catalogs, hang tags, in store displays, and instruction manuals. There was a new snowboard binding, adjustable to over 2 million positions on a snowboard, that needed a lot of explanation. I wrote a lengthy manual for it and then the description for the catalog. Deep inside, I hid a little challenge: if anyone could show the math behind the stance options, they would get a prize.

The writing continued into the summer, but there were other projects, too, like making a video of all our riders. Jake came by the studio one night to see what we’d put together, a film I called, “Push.” He said he didn’t like the title, but as I did when we were writing copy together, I challenged him on it. The name stayed.

About a week later he came over to my desk and handed me a beanie that said “Push” on it, and told me he found it at one of our retailers he’d visited. “It’s to remind you not to push so hard for your ideas. Try to listen little more,” he said. “Oh and if you’re ever in one of our retailers, buy something. Those guys need our support. Even just a hat like this.”

I lived by both pieces of advice ever after.

With all the work, I’d forgotten about the math contest until five envelopes showed up one day in my mailbox. I had five winners. I needed to get them a prize.

Another of my projects that summer was to deliver a sign for Burton retailers, made out of a cross-section of a log. It was being produced by a sign maker down the street named H. G. Wells, as in Homer G. Wells. His ability to tell stories lived up to his literary name, and his business was called Sign Language. As a punning, snowboarding, English nerd, I spent a lot of time hanging out with Homer G. Wells while he worked. Each log slab had a metal inlay of Burton’s newest logo, dubbed the "B-13.” The B-13 came from the design team led my Michael Jager, whose agency JDK was a little further down the road from Homer. I hung out there a lot that summer, too, watching them make ads and design snowboard graphics.

With all these creative people around, I wanted to make things, too. Homer had a drawer full of experiments and spare parts for various Burton items he’d been prototyping. In it I found a few examples of the coveted “Air Disk” medallions that the pro riders had been seen wearing around their necks the past winter. He gave one to me. He also had a little brass cube of metal with a backwards B-13 on it. He told me he was working on a branding iron but he decided to use a different metal. He gave me that too.

I wore the Air Disk around my neck, but after watching Homer make a few more log signs, I had an Idea. I would make my own miniature version, one that I could wear like an Air Disk. I burned a B-13 into a little slice of a branch by putting the brass cube on a hot plate. Homer made me a rubber stamp with "Burton Snowboards" in a circle that fit around it so it looked like its big brother. With a screw eye and piece of twine, I made myself next year’s model of the Air Disk necklace. I felt like I was a Burton team rider.

Years before, I first met Burton team riders who worked at one of the country’s first snowboard schools at Stratton Mountain. When I discovered snowboarding and started selling boards in my shop, one of the kids who worked at the roller rink next door bought one. As a starving computer science student, I did not have a car, but he had access to his dad’s, so for a discount on the board he drove us to Stratton to take our first lesson.

We both struggled while our instructor, pro snowboarder Suzie Rueck, tried to get us to adopt the counter-intuitive stance that makes snowboarding possible.

When I finally got the hang of it and I could make turns, leaving Jeff behind, Suzie said to him, “Wow, your friend must be quite an athlete.”

“He’s not an athlete,” Jeff said, with a sneer, “He’s a fucking mathematician.”

Back at college, I eventually switched from Computer Science to English, but my respect for math continued. My Burton math winners deserved a great prize, so I made five more of my log necklaces, and dropped them into the mail bin.

The next day there were 50 right answers. The day after a couple hundred showed up. In all, the pile got to over a thousand, yet I was hellbent to make them all a log necklace.

The wood for Homer’s full-sized sign was from downed elm, found on the forest floor and full of worm holes. (Our discriminating Japanese distributor would reject their shipment of them because the inferior wood showed insect damage.) Likewise I wanted deadwood for my miniatures, so I had to scrounge fallen branches from the woods across the street from Burton during lunch. After work I hand-sawed disks into the night. I had the hot plate running with the branding-cube, the rubber stamp inked up, and the eyes and the twine set out—in the foyer between the two doors at the entrance to our building, where the light was good and I could reach an outlet with the hot plate’s cord.

The last person out that night happened to be Jake, who stopped to ask me what the hell I was doing. I explained the situation and he said to follow him, he'd show me a better way. He helped me carry my supplies out back to the now-empty snowboard factory, turning lights on as we went. He powered up the dust vacuum and showed me how to use the same radial-arm saw that cut wooden snowboard cores to length. He set up a production line with all my supplies, clamping things in place so I wouldn’t have to pick them up and put them down repeatedly. He explained how, in the beginning days of Burton, he’d gotten in over his head more than once on snowboard production; he had learned the hard way how to manufacture a product in quantity.

Once I was up and running, he handed the operation over to me. Before he left he said, “Two things. One, you know you don’t have to do this all by yourself. We’re all here to help. Two, I thought with all this college-level copy we’ve been writing, you’d know not to fucking underestimate the mathematical intelligence of snowboarders.” And he laughed.

Then he handed me a key, “Lock up when you’re done.”

I said I would leave the key on his desk.

He said, “Keep it. Now that you know how to use the factory, you might as well have a key to it.” And he left.

Just a few months after college, I was a professional writer, a marketer, and someone with the key to the building. But it was even bigger than that: I was trusted—trusted to be the voice of Burton, the messenger of the sport, and the night foreman of the greatest snowboard factory ever.

As the voice of Burton, I’d work with Jake to write everything from letters to our senators about what a snowboard boot was (for some tariff legislation, which I learned needed to be address to the “The Honorable Senator Patrick Leahy") to re-writing the mountain resorts’ “Skiers Code” to be inclusive of snowboarders. Some of the stuff I wrote would get faxed to our distributors around the world to get translated.

One time I wrote an unfortunate press release that made fun of one of our distributor's cultures. I left it as a joke for Jake. The next day his assistant Joan came across the hall to hand me the fax receipt that confirmed she’d gone ahead and saved me the step of faxing it to the distributor myself. I was mortified. Then Jake came in laughing and said, “Don’t make fun of other countries. We’re a global company. And besides, that kind of shit is just not funny.”

I’d write really long emails and Jake would print them out and hand them back to me with, “Just tell me what you want,” written in Sharpie.

One all-company meeting I wrote some notes for him on an index card, suggesting a few talking points based on what I’d been hearing in the halls. He handed it back to me after he spoke with Sharpie written over it, “Who’s running this company God dammit?” I saved that one; it always makes me laugh.

As a messenger, I had to represent snowboarding to the industry, the press, the resorts, the United States Olympic Committee, anyone who might help (or get in the way of) snowboarding’s growth. I also had to represent Burton to the pro riders, who Jake would remind me, I had to listen to.

“If you were good enough to decide what’s right in snowboarding, you’d be riding, not sitting at that desk. Plus the riders have two ways of being right. First, they should know, they ride more. Second, if they’re off, they’ll set a new direction and call it right."

When he made me head of marketing, he told the company that I was always brutally honest about how I felt about the direction of the company, and that he didn’t want that to change. He let me know that my views from behind a desk counted too.

As unofficial night foreman of the factory, I always had projects going. We built skate ramps, buried a time capsule, and pulled all-nighters collating press kits. I designed and helped build trade show booths in a corner of the warehouse before packing them into crates and shipping them to Las Vegas, San Diego, Montreal, and Tokyo. I made a sign that said, “My Boss is a Protestant Carpenter,” and someone came up with the idea of bracelets that said “W.W.J.D.”—What Would Jake Do. Some nights I'd skateboard around the factory with my friend Andy, the PA system blaring music from a telephone dialed into it, duct taped to the speaker of a boom box.

It was in the factory, at another all-employee meeting almost ten years later, when my title was president, that Jake said he trusted me implicitly as the conscience of the company. Standing there, I still had that key in my pocket, and a million lessons from Jake in my head. One of them: by all means, do meet your heroes.

Jake passed away 27 years after I first started working for him—when I was 27. So half my life, his words have been with me. He and the people he assembled at Burton gave me a home, a career, and I hope, an open mind. They gave me a platform to help teach generations to snowboard, along with the humility to step off of it and just listen. My experience with Burton led to a job at another company where I could help teach a world that if you have a body, you are an athlete.

They say when you die, you can’t take it with you. Another way of looking at it is that when you die, you get to leave all of you behind. Losing Jake, for me, is being left with everything he had to give. I don’t feel loss, just the unspeakable pain of permanently indebted gratitude.

The day he got the news, The Honorable Senator Patrick Leahy, still in office, tweeted of Jake, “He was the soul and patron saint of snowboarding, and a beloved Vermonter whose vision has had worldwide reach.”

It makes me so proud: the title Jake accepted in 1992 in my first week, something I was able to give to him. I am grateful I was invited there to push for it.

[loserholland]

Spiderman thingz

Peter Parker

Pairing ➺ Peter Parker x Reader

Warning ➺  SMUT, daddy!kink, cussing, bratty attitude 

Word Count ➺  1,913

Summary ➺  It’s been a month since Peter and (Y/N) had sex till today.. though they have an unexpected guest.

A/N ➺  Peter and the reader aka you lol is 20 and in college (: & ik it’s summer but I decided to have the setting take place in mid-January 

☞  Masterlist  ☜

1 month, 4 weeks, 28 days, 672 hours, 40,320 minutes, 2,419,200 seconds since Peter and (Y/N) had sex. They were both busy with college and Peter having to balance college life and being Spiderman consumed most of his energy. The two went to Columbia College wanting to stay close to home, which meant they didn’t need to stay in dorms. 

Today was a special day, they were both free, no classes, nor anything chaotic that would need Spiderman’s attention. (Y/N) was beyong excited to spend time with her boyfriend of three years, and most importantly let out all the sexual tension and frustration built up in her. 

She lost count of the many times she’s tried to get herself off yet, it never compared to what he could do. When he would use his mouth oh  his sweet mouth it’s so sinister, and his fingers gosh it’s literal magic curling his index and middle finger up hitting the right spot that made you scream. Don’t get me started on his thick long cock, the way it’s twitch in your mouth when you’d suck him off or how red the tip would get as pre-cum leaked out of it.

(Y/N) shook her head trying her best to get the image of Peter’s naked glorious body focusing on what she’d pick out to wear for her special day with Peter. Her eyes landed on the black shirt she had taken from him before they started dating, she had gone over to work on a project for chemistry and when he had brought back fruit-punch for them to drink he stumbled on his feet spilling the red liquid.. on her white shirt. Since then she’s kept his ‘tthe physics is theoretical but the fun is real’ shirt, one of the shirts he first grabbed while covering his eyes mumbling “Sorry, sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to.”.

She searched her draws for a pair of fishnet stocking, slipping them on without any underwear “Peter’s gonna lose his shit.” she thought to herself a smirk painted her lips slipping the black shirt over her head it staring at herself in the mirror that was in the corner of her room turing around to see the shirt stopped mid-thigh. She hummed in satisfaction strolling over to her closet to grab a pair of thigh high boots and a brown trench coat to cover her little outfit underneath and so she wouldn’t be dying from the cold winds of Queens. Before she left she sat at her vanity to do a simple but seductive look ,she wore crimson red lipstick, and some mascara. 

(Y/N) stopped in the kitchen to write her family a note on the magnetic dry-erase board on the fridge, ‘Staying at Peter’s for the night. See you guys tomorrow. Love - (Y/N)’ she placed her phone and keys in her pocket and headed out the door to her boyfriends apartment.

Peter shuffled around his room tossing any clothing that was scattered around his bedroom floor into his closet, (Y/N) would be over at any minute now and Aunt May was currently out shopping before she left she told Peter “Don’t get too loud.” causing Peter to become beet red only to let out a dry chuckle.

(Y/N) stood outside Peter’s door lifting her hand um to knock not too loudly, Peter’s head whipped around at the sound of his lovely girlfriend knocking at the door he stumbled around the other pieces of clothing that was left on the floor kicking it under his bunk bed. (Y/N) rocked back and forth on her heels waiting for Peter to open the door, a few seconds later Peter opened the door his eyes meeting (Y/E/C) he grinned widely at his beautiful girlfriend standing in front of him. Her eyes traveled down to the jogger’s loosely hanging on his waist showing off his defined v line “Hi baby, come in please.” Peter stepped aside allowing his girlfriend to walk in he quickly closed and locked the door behind him turning around to push (Y/N) up against the wall.

“I missed you so much baby.” Peter said in a raspy tone making (Y/N) feel weak at the knees he placed both his hands on the side of her head blocking her in (Y/N) lifted her right hand to stroke his cheek she leaned up to place a quick kiss on his lips “Let’s go to the couch yeah?” (Y/N) took Peter’s hand in her’s walking into his living room.

She rested her hands on his broad shoulders pushing Peter down to sit on the couch, she slowly began to unbutton her trench coat slowly revealing her outfit once she got the last button undone she shrugged it off tossing it to the ground. “Do you like it baby?” (Y/N) questioned innocently watching Peter’s eyes rack her body (Y/N) straddled his lap lightly rubbing her unclothed heat against his grey joggers, Peter hands moved to her hips giving it a light squeeze “Like it? Princess I love it.” (Y/N) smiled mission accomplished she thought leaning down to kiss him.

Peter swiped his tongue across her bottom lip as (Y/N) accepted their tongues dancing against one another as they fought for dominance her hands ran through his hair tugging at it lightly as Peter groaned into her mouth. She took the advantage to lightly grind against his clothed sex, Peter’s hands traveled up her shirt his index finger rolled over her left nipple as the other massaged her right boob. 

He began to lift the shirt over her head till the doorbell went off causing them to pull away from one another breathing heavily “Who cares don’t answer it.” (Y/N) mumbled kissing Peter’s jaw then down to his neck.

The doorbell rung again causing (Y/N) to groan in frustration “Let me go check it.” Peter suggested causing (Y/N) to shake her head no “No Peter please I want you right now please.” she whined as the doorbell went off for the third time.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes dramatically and rolled off of Peter with her arms crossed she grabbed one of the blankets from the couch to cover herself. “Sorry princess let me just see who it is.” (Y/N) didn’t respond she wanted Peter right there and now but who ever was interrupting at this time right now of ALL TIMES she was going to have their head. 

“Ned hey, what are you um doing here?” Ned, Peter’s best friend she loved Ned he was funny and geeky but of all times to interrupt why interrupt NOW! “Wanted to stop by and hangout.” Ned shrugged noticing something was on Peter’s joggers it looked like a wet stain? 

Ned cleared his throat awkwardly and pointed out “Hey did you uh spill something near your uh dick?” Peter’s eyes widened looking down at the spot (Y/N) had left “Uh yeah, I dropped water.” Peter said unsurely as his best friend eyed him out “Well look Ned I have to uh do some spiderman things maybe come back later?” Ned shook his head no “I’ll just wait in your room.” Ned suggested pushing past Peter walking into the apartment. 

Peter noticed (Y/N) was no longer sitting on the couch but laid on the floor “I’ll um be back in like twenty minutes.” Peter said to Ned closing his bedroom door turning on his heels to walk back into the living room to see his girlfriend shooting daggers at him her arms crossed over her chest “You don’t know how to say I have my girlfriend over?” she whispered angrily  “Do you know how long it’s been Peter? I’m literally aching and I’m so fucking wet for you! I dressed up like this for you so you could fuck me brains out but no, you let your best friend in instead of saying I’m about to fuck my girlfriend!” (Y/N) was sexually frustrated and just plain old frustrated. 

Peter stared at her with lust strolling over to her she noticed his eyes were no longer chocolate brown but full on black he stood before his girlfriend “You’re acting like a brat kitten.” Peter’s voice was low (Y/N) gulped nervously his arms moved around her waist pulling her closer to his body with a squeal “You wanna be fucked? You could’ve asked me nicely kitten and not act like a brat we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Peter placed her over his shoulder walking into the kitchen. 

He bent her over the counter giving her ass a light smack “Count, this is what happens to girls who act like brats. They’re punished.” Peter’s hand came in contact with her ass again “One.” she whispered smack “Two” smack “Three.” smack “Four” smack (Y/N) let out a little squeal causing Peter to pull on her hair back “Better keep quiet kitten, we have guest over we don’t want to be of any disturbance now hm?” (Y/N) whimpered out a “Yes daddy.” Peter rubbed her cheeks that would be red and sore tomorrow.

(Y/N) felt as Peter ripped her stockings she left out a little gasp, he ran his index finger through her now dripping wet folds “My my kitten, you’re so wet.” (Y/N) couldn’t see his face but knew a smirk was painted on his lips “O-only for you daddy, you make me this wet.” (Y/N) whispered in a small voice causing Peter to smile “What was that kitten?” he taunted as he used his index finger to rub slow figure eights “I-I’m only this wet for you daddy only you can make me this wet.” (Y/N) said in-between small gasp burying her face into her hands.

Peter dropped his joggers and boxers as it pooled around his ankles kicking it off. He gave his now thick shaft a few pumps before slamming into (Y/N) without any warning as she let out a loud moan Peter’s hand came over her mouth to muffle the sinful sounds leaving her lips. Peter pulled in and out slamming into her each time as her cries were muffled by his hands “Shh kitten, remember we have company.” he whispered nipping on her earlobe as (Y/N) felt her walls clench against his cock. 

He flipped her around so he could see her face as it contoured in pure pleasure and ecstasy, he wrapped his hand around her neck applying little pressure to the side of her neck causing her eyes to roll back as her mouth formed into an ‘o’ he placed her left leg over his shoulder giving him a better angle to hit just the right spot.

(Y/N) let out a small gasp as Peter smirked “Right there huh kitten.” (Y/N) wrapped her hands around his rest a she nodded yes she felt the familiar knot form in her stomach. Peter began to slam into her relentlessly feeling her walls clench and her eyes roll back she was certain she saw stars “Come on kitten cum for me.” Peter leaned down to kiss her muffling her moans as her orgasm ripped through her body, Peter following not too long after. 

He rested his forehead against hers as (Y/N) leaned up to kiss his nose “A month worth waiting for.” she mumbled causing Peter to chuckle. 

“I love you.” Peter whispered kissing her forehead “I love you too, now time for Ned to leave because I wanna cuddle.” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck holding him in her embrace, that was truly worth waiting for.

[themjinterviews-blog]

48. Put your hands in the air and say hell yeah. Captain Jack! Johnny Depp!

What motivates you to do what you do? Sheer necessity, usually.

What was the weather like the last time you went out? Hot. It’s Arizona so it’s probably near 100 + sunny.

Do you go for walks often? I’m pretty lazy and try to avoid it. You sorta gotta trick me into walking, like take me to a big shopping mall or something so I inadvertently walk around it whilst shopping.

What color shirt are you wearing? Gray.

What is your favorite type of youtube video to watch? I don’t really watch any. I just use it to occasionally look up songs or to record snippets of stuff to remix songs.

Do you need any new clothes right now? I got plenty.

What’s the next project you are excited to start? I’m working on a nonsensical Adult Coloring Book featuring animals committing crimes.

Do you collect anything? If so, what? Used to collect rocks and Pokémon cards. I suppose in a sense I collect all sorts of art/office supplies.

^and if not, what would you like to collect? Nothing really.

What was the last disappointing thing that happened to you? I don’t know. Suppose work being closed for renovation for 2 weeks kinda sucks because I sort of need cash.

What is something God has healed you of? I don’t really do the whole God/Religion rigamarole... Chances are if we are healed of something, there is a psychological, sociological biological or generally rational explanation.

Have you ever experienced a miracle? Like, a phenomenal coincidence? I think as much as I hate to be a downer, there's probably a lot to do with our perceptions of events

What was the last thing you ate? Lucky Charms.

Do you ever eat food that’s intended for kids? Well, Lucky Charms. I also love pizza rolls and chicken nuggets. But I’m not eating Gerber Peas&Carrot baby foods or anything crazy like that.

What was the last stupid thing you did? Define “stupid”? Most things I do are probably stupid to others but perfectly acceptable to me.

Do you get embarrassed easily? Sometimes.

Are you wearing pants or shorts right now? I never wear shorts.

What are your top three names you like for a daughter? Elliot (this is also my pick for a boy name), Tara, Hazel.

Would you ever film a vlog of yourself giving birth? Ew. Fuck no. Honestly, adopting/fostering sounds way more my style anyway. To be totally frank, pregnancy sounds gross and being unable to take my adderall sounds awful. I’d gain like, a million pounds.

Do you like getting caught in the rain? It’s usually a refreshing break from the heat out here.

Do you think your hair looks best straight, wavy, or curly? Messy, or in a side-pony.

What was the last craft project you completed?: Coloring books for my friends’ kid.

Name 3 youtubers you would like to meet in person: I don’t know any.

Has anyone ever spread an untrue rumor about you? Sociopath ex. Not sure he actually said them aloud to people other than myself, but I was constantly being accused of weird stuff I absolutely did not do.

What’s one rumor you’ve heard about yourself, and is it true? N/A. No idea. Not aware of any relevant or applicable rumors. I literally just keep to myself and do crafts.

What color are your nails painted currently? Not painted.

Do you use a pill box? Jesus, I’m not 80.

List 3 people you know who were loving and then turned cold: it’s kind of generic to assume either of those things as permanent traits. But probably most flings or whatever. It always feels cold when one party loses interest.

Have you filmed a youtube video today? Never filmed one in my life.

Do you leave the house when you’re on your period? Um yes. Life doesn’t stop just because I have cramps.

^If not, why not? -

Have you ever felt threatened for your life? Yeah. Sociopath ex would get overtly paranoid and mistake harmless or unrelated things I did or said to be conspiracies against him. And occasionally my imaginary betrayals would lead to violent words or actions. Like, a bundle of index cards with Carrabba’s menu items and their ingredients, word for word, from the Carrabba’s menu, was somehow coded plots to who the fuck knows to have him killed. Irrational stuff like that.

What are you behind on? Student loans. And when I say behind, I really mean that I actively chose not to pay them.

Do you get enough sleep each night? No because night is my time to be productive, uninterrupted and without bothering anyone. I hate having to stop my thoughts just because other people are making noise or trying to converse with me.

Which did you like better: high school or college? Absolutely college.

Which year of your life stands out to you as the most significant so far? Probably last year or two.

…and why? Big personal transitions and revelations in my life philosophy.

What was the last store you shopped at? Walmart, most likely.

Do you have a favorite pharmacist? I used to back in NY. Her name was Evie. She wished a customer Happy Thanksgiving on Valentine’s Day accidentally once and it cracked me up and we had a running joke about it.

Do you have a favorite cashier at the grocery store? I don’t shop frequently enough and I switch up stores when I do.

What was the last thing you ordered at Starbucks? Probably a toffee nut Frappuccino.

What’s something you discovered recently?

What makes you more creative? Emotional turbulence, certain drugs.

What’s the last magical thing you experienced? Um…Magical? The herd of unicorns crossing the I-10.

What is the theme of your bedroom? None. We are staying in a spare room at a friend’s. But we're actually moving this week because being micromanaged and constantly scrutinized was getting old.

Have you ever lived in a dorm? Yes, for a few years

Who is someone whom you admire, and why? I guess the lady at work, Amanda. She’s like 64 and works open-close every day, and still has a great attitude.

When was the last time you stepped outside of your comfort zone? I don’t know. I test the waters every once in awhile.

Where would you like to travel to next? Nowhere crazy. Just back to New York for the Renaissance Faire.

If you could win three dream vacations to anywhere, where would you go? Portugal—New Zealand—Ireland.

Would you rather ride a camel or an elephant? Camel. They’re fuzzy.

Are you a free spirit? I don’t know what that even constitutes. I think outside the box and I question social conformity and other preset patterns of thought. But I don’t know that has much to do with my spirit.

Do you want to lose weight? I think I’m okay for now.

Which insects scare you, if any? They don’t scare me, they just creep me out …spiders, centipedes, millipedes, roaches…ugh.

Do you think it’s silly to be afraid of a tiny insect? It’s not like I think they’re going to murk me with a sawed off shot gun. I know they’re harmless and therefor not technically scary…but they’re still creepy and unsettling somehow.

Have you ever experienced paranoia? To some degree.

Have you ever hallucinated? Indeed.

Were you raised religious? We were raised Roman Catholic. Didn’t stick.

Have you ever been abused? Psychologically, emotionally, physically and sexually. #sociopathic ex.

Do you think the cops should do more about bullying? I think cops have enough shit to worry about as is and don’t know how effective extensive police interference would even be. I think the anti-bullying message is stronger when conveyed by people closer to kids like teachers, parents, siblings or a celebrity figure they idolize.

Is there a coffee shop you like better than Starbucks? I like them all about the same.

If you could afford to get your hair professionally done, what would you get? Probably dye and highlights. Definite trim of my bangs.

If you had a lot of money, do you think you would use it wisely? Absolutely not. I have little to no money now and I don’t even use *that* wisely.

Do you know any rich people who are very irresponsible? I don’t know many people to begin with.

List five careers that you’d like to have: Lawyer (like A.D.A. Barba!)...Graphic Designer...Psychologist...Self-Help writer...and oddly wouldn't mind being a waitress still.

List five far-out things that you’d like to do before you die: I genuinely do not have a bucket list. If I stumble upon something that seems cool, I do it. Making unrealistic lists won't help my quality of life very much.

Do you dream big? Quite the opposite. I sort of just fly by the seat of my pants. Weird expression. Can’t recall ever having very fixated dreams or visions for myself.

What was your first imaginary friend’s name? N/A

What was the name of the first pet that you loved? Comet. <3

What was the first work uniform that you had to wear? Waitress uniform of sorts. I wanna say it was white button down and black pants.

Do you like to go barefoot? Usually. On some surfaces it’s intolerable and I hate the texture, though.

Do you like the same colors now that you did as a kid? Pretty much.

Do you have a blog? You’re on it, buddy. This is a survey blog.

Do you have a youtube channel? What would I even post videos about?? I assure you, I do nothing that the general public would find entertaining.

[clovked]

Unexpected Acquaintances - Peter Parker AU X Fem!Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Summary: You’re starting to fall for Peter. And hard.

Authors Note: Enjoy my friends! :)

Warning: The FLUFF we all deserved!

Word Count: 2.4k

That kiss was the only thing on your mind for the past few days. You wished for it to happen again but now that you were aware of his ways, you weren’t all too sure.

During school he acted like nothing happened, the two of you continue to act like friends as you cracked jokes down the school hallways. On the flip side, whenever Peter would drive you home he would always have a hand on you, whether it be by actually holding your hand or by placing his right hand on your thigh, which you didn’t complain about.

It was Tuesday night and Peter had invited you over to work on your Chem project. He told you to come around four and that’s exactly what you did, around 3:45 you left for his apartment, enjoying the 15-minute walk over to his apartment building.

As the elevator came to a stop on his floor, you pulled your earbuds out of your ears and walked over to his apartment door. You softly knocked and waited a few seconds, excited to see the curly haired boy’s face once he opened the door.

To your surprise, the curly haired boy didn’t open the door. It was the complete opposite.

The door opened and a small lady with straight brown hair smiled at you, a large pair of glasses perched on her nose, “Hi, are you looking for someone?” She asked sweetly.

You stood there dumbfounded for a few moments before finally speaking up, “Oh, um, Peter invited me over to work on our chemistry project,” You explained, giving her a small smile.

“He’s not home right now but you can wait for him in his room if you’d like,” She offered, holding the door open wider for you.

You nodded, thanking her for the offer and followed her inside and into Peter’s room, “He should be home soon, if he isn’t you’re welcomed to yell at him all you want,” May said with a small laugh.

You smiled at her, thanking her once again before she closed the door. You looked around the room as you set down your bookbag by the foot of his bed. The room was a light grey color, making it seem a lot bigger than it actually was. Plastered across the walls were several Star Wars posters as well as posters from other movies, causing you to smile because you finally got to see the nerdy side of him. You also noticed a poster with the map of New York, a small star on the Queen's side of the city. Upon closer inspection, you saw that there was small handwriting next to the star. You are here! It read, causing you to crack a smile.

You turned around, your eyes scanning the room some more before your attention was caught by several little Lego’s on a shelf. When you looked closer, you realized they were characters from Star Wars once again, “This dork,” You said to yourself as you picked up the little Darth Vader Lego.

You pulled your phone out, deciding to mess with Peter. You lifted up the Lego’s arm with the lightsaber in it, placing it back down on the shelf before taking a picture of it and sending it to Peter.

Y/N: Darth Vader demands that you get home quick!

Not never a minute later, Peter replied back.

Peter: Wait, why the hell are you in my room??

You giggled a bit when you read his response, sitting down on his bed and typing back.

Y/N: Because you invited me over but you decided to not show up. And your aunt let me inside.

Peter: Shit! I’m at my internship with Tony Stark rn but I’ll be back asap! Get started without me though, sorry!

You smiled at his apologetic text but you couldn’t help but notice he mentioned that Stark Internship MJ was talking about. Is he still doing that? You thought to yourself before setting your phone down and getting your things out of your bag.

You had been working on the project for hours with still no sign of Peter. You got to his apartment at exactly four and it was currently almost seven, making you worry a bit.

Y/N: Hey, where are you??

Peter: Running late, I should be home soon. If you’re hungry, there’s a sandwich shop a couple blocks down called Delmar’s. I’m really sorry :(

You let out a small sigh as you finished reading his text, deciding to let it slide this time since he probably was busy at the internship. The rumble in your stomach qued you to get up and head to that sandwich shop Peter mentioned, letting May know that you were heading out.

You walked down the street, enjoying the nice weather as the sun set upon Queens this Tuesday night. The walk to Delmar’s was around ten minutes but it was enjoyable since it was fairly quiet on the street.

As you rounded the corner to enter the shop, you ran into someone, nearly dropping your phone as you stepped back in surprise, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You said, getting a firm grip back on your phone before looking up at the stranger. Except it wasn’t a complete stranger.

You stood there in shock as you glared at New York’s web-slinger, your jaw dropping slightly.

This is ironic. You literally run into the guy who is normally swinging off buildings.

He seemed just as flustered as you, the eyes of his mask widening as he stared at you, trying to get his words out, “Oh, uh, sorry miss! You okay?” He asked, his voice seeming to change as he spoke, getting a bit deeper.

“Uh,” You began, your cheeks becoming red. “I’m o-okay,” You stammered, mentally kicking yourself for being so flustered in front of him.

He chuckled a bit, the laugh sounding so familiar yet so different but you could help to let out a small giggle as well, “That’s good to hear! I- I have to go now but stay, safe?” He said, almost questioning himself.

You nodded, beginning to step forward before the two of you did that awkward shuffle as he tried to get past you. He placed a hand on your waist without hesitation, lightly pushing you towards the side. His touch felt somewhat familiar, his grip on your waist strong yet also gentle.

“See you around!” Spider-Man called, shooting his webs towards the building in front of him and swinging away from you, leaving you in shock.

“Oh my God,” You whispered to yourself as you watched him, “I have to tell Peter.”

You rushed inside Delmar’s and ordered two sandwiches, asking the man behind the counter what Peter Parker usually got. He told you what Peter normally ordered and you nodded, telling him you’ll order that.

You impatiently waited for the sandwiches to be made, taking a seat at one of the tables and frantically texting Peter.

Y/N: You won’t believe who I literally bumped into!!

You heard your order be called up, quickly shoving your phone into your pocket and taking the two bags of sandwiches.

You left Delmar’s and basically ran back to Peter’s apartment, hoping and praying that he was home so you could tell him everything that happened.

And you honestly were never happier to see his smiling face sat on his bed once you opened his bedroom door.

“You have to tell me everything,” He said, smiling from ear to ear as he held up his phone with your text message on his screen.

You let out a small laugh, setting the sandwiches down and basically rambling on and on about him.

“He was super nice!” You called out, your mind beginning to exaggerate the encounter, “He was also kind of awkward?” You said, questioning yourself since you weren’t too sure if it was just you being extremely flustered in that moment.

He laughed, watching you carefully as you spoke, “He was awkward?” Peter asked, leaning forward so that his arms were resting on his knees.

You shrugged, “I mean, I guess? He was probably just flustered,” You said, quickly changing the subject, “Wait! Do you know him?”

Peter’s eyes went wide when you asked that question. He immediately sat up straight and shook his head, “Nononono,” Peter quickly said, letting out a nervous laughter as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You frowned, cocking your head a bit at his sudden nervous state, “Well, you’re working for Tony Stark and Spider-Man is an Avenger, right?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited his response.

Peter raised an eyebrow, almost realizing something as you said that, “Yeah, kind of,” He said, smiling a bit to himself.

You couldn’t help but notice that he was being a bit secretive, causing you to place your hands on your hips, “Peter, are you hiding something from me?” You asked, completely trying to tease him.

He was quick to catch on, a laugh escaping his lips as he stood up and walked towards you, “I promise, I’m not,” Peter said, taking your hands into his own. Little did you know, he was lying straight through his teeth, that red hue that was creeping up on his cheeks being from the guilt he suddenly felt when he lied to you. He wasn’t sure as to why but he didn’t want to question it right now.

You saw Peter’s eyes glance behind you before meeting your eyes again, “Can I show you something?” He asked, giving your hands a small squeeze.

You smiled at this charming boy before nodding, Peter returning the smile as he led you out of his room and out the apartment. Once the two of you stepped outside of the apartment, Peter’s free hand came up to cover your eyes, his other hand wrapped around your waist as he held you close to him.

You giggled a bit, closing your eyes as he placed his hand over them, “Peter, where are you taking me?” You asked, stumbling a little bit as you took your first blind steps but Peter was there to support you.

You could tell he was smiling, Peter not responding to you as the two of you continued your walk to this surprise location. You hear the small beep of the elevator before it started moving, beginning to get impatient and Peter could tell.

“We’re almost there,” He said quietly, practically whispering in your ear which sent shivers down your spine.

Once the elevator stopped, Peter led you closer to this place he was talking about. You were a bit surprised when he opened a door and a light breeze hit you.

Peter removed his hand from your eyes, “You can open your eyes,” He said softly, his hand moving from your waist to intertwine with your fingers.

You slowly opened your eyes to be greeted with the Manhattan skyline at twilight. The entire time you’ve been in this city you weren’t able to appreciate it at night and this moment caused you to smile from ear to ear, “Wow,” You said, letting out a breathy laugh, looking at the city's lights that looked like stars.

Peter was standing beside you, his eyes never leaving you as you stood in awe, “Pretty right?” He asked, still looking at you.

You finally looked up at him and smiled, “To say the least,” You replied.

He smiled back before pulling you gently forward as you crossed the roof of the building. He let go of your hand, pushing himself up so he was now sitting on the edge of the building. You glared at him, shaking your head as nerves began to make their way into you, the thought of possibly falling scaring you.

“I’ve got you,” Peter said, immediately sensing your nerves. He held a found out for you to grab onto.

You’ll be fine, you told yourself as you took Peter’s hand and sat on the edge of the building next to him. You glanced down in front of you, looking at the busy street below caused your body to tense up.

Peter let out a small laugh, his arm wrapping itself around your waist again as he pulled you close to him, “See? It’s not that bad,” Peter said, looking back at you as a small smile began to creep onto his lips.

You nodded nervously while you still stared at the road below the two of you. Peter tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you so close to him that there was basically no space between the two of you.

“If you keep staring at the ground it isn’t going to get any better,” He said softly, raising a hand up to turn your cheek to him.

When you looked at him you felt that anxiety fade away, your body immediately becoming less and less tense. And Peter noticed that but he didn’t want you to be tense at all. Peter moved his hand from your chin to grab your hand, slowly leaning towards you.

Different nerves filled you this time, your heart rate picking up as Peter inched closer to you. You’ve already kissed him, chill out, you told yourself but it was different this time. You had been longing to kiss him again all week and now you were finally going to get it. You were becoming jelly in his hands.

“It’s okay,” Peter whispered, his lips barely grazing yours before the two of you leaned in. It felt as if electricity went through you when the two of you kissed, dare you say it was better than the first time.

You didn’t notice before, but you were clutching onto his shirt for dear life. As Peter deepened the kiss, your muscles relaxed and your arms found their way around his neck, your fingers finding themselves in his hair.

Peter chuckled a bit when he felt you lightly pull at his hair, pulling out of the kiss. He gave you a teasing smile that was paired with a raised eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, hitting him lightly on the back of the head before leaning back in to kiss him, “Shut it, Parker,” You said between kisses. You were falling hard for this boy.

Taglist:  @seperatefandome @myguccislides @6constant6concern6 @lilaholland2013 @itscaptaingally @savkova @sunnylovesspidey @bbtomholland @starkviibes @petraich @raised-by-fandoms @vagabcndia @hoevanauwuna @rose4958 @oh-dear-tommy @elianas-book-blog @okspidey @mermaidtatts @justalittlehappier @rosehollnd @spidreling @srinaadirah @tanyaolivar @hither-to-undreamt-of @tomhollandsmouthfr0g @tomhollandsmouthfr0g @mariarryx @juliagrubbs28 @if-only-i-were-her

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love: chapter six

new ppl who r just seeing this it’s a guardian angel A/U

find all the parts here ☟

Ao3   ff.net

tw’s: swearing, mentions of depression and anxiety, loss of memory

still based on this song lol

here is the moodboard for ambience purposes if you’re that kind of kid

a/n: its been very long yada yada please just tell me if you want the next chapter because im stuck in au land, if you would prefer a Jane Austin au literally ill drop everything 

once the lights go out

Higher City, Angel Habitat/Complex - 2:45 AM

Half an hour post-transportation and five hours after Chloe’s accident.

Beca stumbled on her footing as she grasped around the edge of the doorframe, looking for a switch or a pull to shed light into the pitch-black space that expanded beyond the doors of her residence for the next who-knew-how-long.

Her neck whined in an aggravating crick from sitting hunched over Chloe’s bedside for so long and her mind was mushed from the weight of stress, overtiredness, excessive adrenaline usage and above all else, of course--grief. The only thing keeping her from collapsing on the ground in the doorway of this small concrete hallway and weeping herself to sleep was the sentence she continued to recite to herself repetitively under her breath: “Chloe’s alive, everyone’s safe, you’ll be okay.”

She far from even entertained the possibility that the last part was rest assured, but the act of mouthing it repetitively had a numbing effect on her currently fragile mental stamina.

After fumbling for a few seconds, she huffed in exasperation and gave up trying to find a switch. Sleep was the only thing she had the brains to carry out. Deliberation over everything else that had transpired in the past four hours would be performed when her brain was a just little further away from falling apart.

The man at the front desk of the grey building had given her a small but heavy and lumpy grey drawstring rucksack before dropping her off alone in the dingy hall of her new quarters. She set it down by her feet now, using it to prop open the thick black door to let as much light into the room as possible.

Hands outstretched, she shuffled inside and waited until her eyes adapted to the murky black interior. It took a few seconds but eventually the slight outlines of shapes faded into view and she finally spotted what she assumed was a thin standing-lamp in the corner. She stepped blindly towards it and jumped backwards a little when it suddenly flickered on, sensing her hand in the air a few inches before it.

The space was little more than a closet. Beca had little mind to care, too exhausted to be grumpy. Besides, it was pretty comfortable considering her own size. The walls and ceiling were simply white-washed cement and there was a foot by foot square to serve as a window at the farthest wall from the door, though it had little to no effect at this time of the night. She wondered briefly about the concept of daylight here and if there even was sun or moonlight. The sparse furniture was a bed, an old wooden sea-trunk, and a tiny porcelain sink in the corner. Beca placed her rucksack in the trunk and sank onto the stiff but not wholly uncomfortable pallet, lacking any sufficient drive in her to take anything off, including her shoes, or even get under the soft linen sheets. Her eyes fell shut and the relief of deep sleep ebbed impending in her mind’s eye.

Yet her head pounded and her heart still fluttered at a sickening pace under her ribs. She found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes closed; the image of Chloe, pale and fragile in such a battered state after the accident, had etched itself clearly behind her eyelids. Her breathing was difficult to regulate (she was unsure if this was due to her thinking so deeply on the act of regulating it, or an actual physical anxious reaction) and the room was uncomfortably cold.

She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Everything was gone. Everything she and those she loved had worked so hard to build from so little was over and erased without trace. She had trudged heavily from wholly miserable to the happiest she had ever been without ease and certainly not in good time. All of that happiness. Up and gone like passing something eye-catching for its possible beauty in the sand on the beach, but upon running back to find it, its existence is nothing more than imagined.

A distinct memory faded into view. It was more of a moving image (a gif, so to speak) than a memory, but she could hear distant and muffled voices as if she were standing outside the door of a closed cinema to a movie she wasn’t familiar with.

The image was of her and Chloe in their late teens resting under a filter of broken apricot sunset through a canopy of birch leaves shimmering above their heads. Chloe’s head rested on Beca’s shoulder as she ripped up the grass beneath her, spreading it over Beca’s legs like dirty confetti.

She didn’t remember the scene as such. She only knew that it felt real. And that it ached her chest and throat and burned her eyes with the threat of tears.

Now she could no longer withhold the prickling tears and shuddering sobs and resolved that if tiring herself out would be the only route she would be able to take towards a somewhat restful night, she would charge down its’ course at a thousand miles per hour, foot stomped on the gas pedal.

She stretched and bided in the memory as deeply as she could.

Her sobs reverberated softly in the small stone room.

Underneath this, a soft irregular ticking noise sounded from above and outside her window. She ignored it. As it got louder she recognized it to be rain, heavy and sheeted. This prodded her curiosity just enough; still shaking, she stood from the bed and wobbled over to the hand-sized window. Sure enough, though it was dark outside, blue light from a nearby pathway lamp lit up tiny cascading waterfalls down the thick pane.

“How fucking ironic,” she whispered.

-

Chloe called in sick the next day to work. She wasn’t positive why, she simply knew that the exasperation of her most mundane course of existence would eventually wear whatever mere being she had left into the shell of a personality akin to that of a tired old cat.

The events of the past two days had stirred in her a sort of awakening for what it felt like to experience happenstances outside of her citadel of repetitive routine and emotional hibernation. Though it was not the most merry or enjoyable topics to mull over, she found herself wrapped in reflection often and began finding a need to force herself not to dwell on it so much as not to overthink to the point of obsession.

The urge to constantly check in on her odd rescue-project was difficult to quash but necessary. Chloe reminded herself that her relationship was barely visible with this human being--all she had done was let her stay the night and drive her into the city. They had barely even conversed. Still, the event had shaken her, and she had little else to think about. She convinced herself to only inquire into Beca’s situation in two days time when she was sure Beca had become a little more settled. She was confident that Flo was good hands and that she would care for her guest appropriately, especially since now she would be living above the cafe.

Except that Chloe found a bracelet resting on the coffee table by her couch that wasn’t hers. So she kind of had to go back to the cafe. Kind of.

-

It had taken the entire remainder of the day and most of the next to finally situate Beca into a somewhat habitable situation. After Chloe had left, Flo closed up early and she and her new employee spent several hours behind the counter and in the bakery as she showed her the ropes. Beca was happy to see how surprised and pleased Flo was at Beca’s natural agility and skill around the oven and the baked goods. Flo easily taught her to bake the four most popular pastries, specific to her family’s recipes, and how to make four of the simplest drinks on the menu to start out, as well as her way around the cash register. As the day came to a close, they left the cafe to rush their way through several more monotonous but still critical errands like setting up both a bank account and a small, temporary mobile phone. They stopped at Flo’s apartment a few doors down from the cafe before calling it a night and Flo piled Beca’s arms with enough food to last for a week or so. The following morning, Beca set out on her own to blunder her way through a T.J.Maxx and a shopping center to find some clothes that were--well, some clothes. Once she returned to the cafe they worked a little past 6:00 which came oddly fast (her orientation of time and its passing were still muddled and the work at Flo’s came naturally to her.)

Succeeding the whirlwind of toil they had conducted over the past two days, Flo expeditiously suggested that a trip downtown was in order and after twenty minutes of walking briskly through the chill of the celebratory evening, the pair dropped into two rotating stools in a colorfully-lit bar home to some very happy and boisterous company. It had been so long since Beca had had any alcohol, so she ordered the most obnoxious drink on the menu and four jello shots to split between them.

“So, first real day back! How are you feeling?”

Beca sipped her syrupy cocktail and grimaced at the unaccustomed flavor of alcohol.  

“I don’t know. Everything’s kinda’ blurry right now, but my brain is sort of slacking off a little in the staying-awake-during-the-regular-daytime department. The time difference is so much more insane than when you swap from different time zones on earth ‘cause there are an extra four hours of daytime and an extra two of night. There aren’t sunsets either, the sky just goes black for a while which is actually really depressing.”

“Wait, so, do you have, like, powers or anything? Can you fly? You don’t have a halo, right?” Beca again decided to refrain from divulging her distressing ordeal concerning her glowing appendages. She had blissfully forgotten about that situation until Flo had mentioned powers, which threw her in a temporary whirlpool of apprehensive unease.

“Not really, and no, I can’t fly. I mean, I can kinda’ tell when something is wrong with whoever I’m guarding, and I can slow down time by a couple of seconds, but that takes so much energy and I can only use it in emergencies. And you know about bringing the memories back, but that’s only if the memories have been taken away by heaven. They mostly spent time training us how to deal with any situation; so like, CPR, difficult-situation negotiation tactics, advanced martial arts and stuff.”

“Oh. That is boring.”

“Yeah, kind of.” Beca sipped her drink again which was less foul the second round, but still jarring.

“So how does this-” She gesticulated vaguely at Beca’s body which she understood as metaphorical- “work anyways?”

“Oh, well after you die, you can request to be a guardian and they put you through this huge crash course for protecting a human. After training you’re assigned one person to guard on earth for their whole life, starting whenever heaven thinks that person needs the most guidance. Sometimes that means bumping into them and becoming best friends with them or marrying and growing old with them. Sometimes you never even meet them in person, just help them from afar. You do what heaven dictates is best for them, so no complicated attachments. When they die, your memory is replaced in the mind of everyone you’ve ever met as someone else, so no one will recognize you when you go back to earth and you get sent back to heaven and reverted to the age you died to start with another assignment. You can never, um, retire or whatever, and apparently you can only stop once you’ve worn out your brain. And then they, you, know, cease you ‘cause you’re no good to them anymore.”

“Shit.” Flo had sat through staring at the dark brick wall behind the bar with a blank expression enunciating her contemplation of what Beca had revealed.

“‘Shit’ is right. I guess it sounds kind of cool when I describe it, but when I thought I was actually going to have to do it for, like, thousands of years, I was really fuckin’ bummed, dude.”

“Understandable. But you hacked the heaven system, how does that work?”

“Yeah, hacked, or something. I don’t even know if they’ll be able to tell. They’re supposed to be able to connect with their angels but I severed that attachment when I changed my assignment. I think they-” Flo brought Beca’s expatiations to an abrupt halt, holding up her palm to signify silence and raising her phone to her ear, an apologetic glance tossed in Beca’ direction.

“Chloe! Hi! What’s up?” Speak of the devil. Beca squirmed a little on her stool at the sound of Chloe’s voice on the other end. She couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but she didn’t sound particularly troubled. Even so...

“Oh, okay. We’re at a bar downtown right now…uh huh. Yeah, she is all settled, we finished a few hours ago.”

Flo removed her phone from her ear and hid it under her chin to bring her attention to Beca. “She says she has a bracelet of yours?”

“Oh, um. I guess? I don’t really remember having one but-”

“She says it is not hers.”

“No, Flo, I said it might be.”

“Okay...it is hers. You can drop it off at the café. Anything else?”

Beca seized Flo’s phone from her grasp. “Will you give us a sec’ Chloe?” She placed it on mute.

“Hey! What?!” Flo scrambled and stretched, trying desperately to reclaim her confused friend on the other end of the line, but Beca held it out of her reach, exasperated.

“Flo, why are you being like this?!”

Flo sighed heavily off of an exaggerated voiced inhale and rested her hands on Beca’s arm. Beca grew uncomfortable with the sudden sincerity in her voice.

“Okay, listen. Beca, I know you did not come back for the Bellas. I know you just came back for Chloe. I think you really need some time to adjust on earth before you do anything rash. I don’t think you should be getting too close to her and I think that you are idealizing your situation. Por el amor de Dios, Chloe doesn’t even know who you are! You need to slow your ass down, girl! We have the Bella reunion soon. You can wait that long at least.”

Beca chewed on her lip thoughtfully. This was the first vocal confirmation of what she had been refraining from thinking over fully past the whispered voice of reason behind a closet door barely ajar in the very recesses of her mind. For the thousandth time that day she swallowed the reflection of how careless and hasty her actions had been.

Beca had never dwelled so long and hard over someone or something as she had over Chloe whilst in heaven. Only her mother’s death came as remotely close a subject to how ruthlessly Beca obsessed (Obsess - used very much in the dictionary sense; not lightly. See also; beset, consume, haunt, etc.) over Chloe and her accident. Considering this, a complete and detailed plan would definitely make sense in this context; however, obsession to this point considers little factual influence in a non-idealized, material world. Hence, Beca’s rash behavior and her reactions to Chloe in palpable physical situations.

“Okay... maybe you’re right. I guess I was really weighing everything on Chloe liking me for me, and not all the stuff we shared in the past, you know? Sorry about not saying anything about it, and I really am so happy to see you. I love you so much. All of you. Please don’t think I didn’t come back for you guys. You mean everything to me, we’re family. I just, you know... Please schedule the reunion soon?”

“Yes. Fine, I will.” Beca slowly retracted her arm and placed the phone in Flo’s expectant (but now softened and more sympathetic) outstretched palm. She unmuted the call.

“Hi, Chloe, sorry about that, drunk asshole was bothering us. You can bring the bracelet to the reunion. By the way, do we have some dates for that yet? Aubrey should be here this month, right? Yes. No, uh-huh. Okay great, perfect, text the group-chat about it? Okay, bye!” She hung up and grinned at Beca. “Two weeks, as long as everyone is free!”

“Ugh, dude what am I gonna’ do in the meantime?”

“Well, I know that you only came back for-,” Beca threw her a glare and Flo surrendered, hands in the air. “Sorry, right, a couple reasons, and it is all you have got your heart set on, but you need to take a few steps back. I have to say Beca, you really didn’t plan this very well. You need to establish a solid base here because this is your life now. You may be an angel, but if you think about it, I am, like, definitely a saint for doing all this for you.”

Beca flipped her off and returned to wincing down the copious amounts of fluid she had spent an annoying amount of cash on.

“For real though, you’re right. And I really... appreciate everything you’re doing for me Flo, it means a lot.” Flo smiled and nodded.

-

Perhaps if Chloe hadn’t felt so out of place, she would have asked Flo to let her join the girls at the bar. But for some reason, something about the phone call and the whole situation whispered a sense of exclusion -- well intentioned or not, she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t felt this socially anxious in a while. Her mental health was not even anything she had thought about in depth for a few years and she had long ago passively accepted the concept that with age came dampened emotions, and that such was a perfectly natural sequence. If nothing would ever give her real pleasure again, so be it.

Another walk. Another achingly familiar song. Another foot in front of the other. Another fifteen minutes later and she stood in front of a deep, deep dark pond, rocky banks powdered with grey-blue frost. The water reflected with the perfection of a mirror the nothingness of the ashy sky.

Chloe now stared into this nothingness -- the sort of staring where everything at once is what those who are staring can see, but they aren’t looking, just seeing and thinking. She stood, leaning slightly in a gentle trance as she remembered the time she had dived into this same water. She had choked and snorted through her nose as she had come up for air and swallowed some accidentally. A friend on the bank had been slumped over in hysterics at her fruitless efforts to cease wheezing and laughing and coughing and yelling at her friend to stop. In her mind she imagined that it was Beca who sat beside the water giggling at her. Stupid and weird that you’d think of her, she thought, but she couldn’t properly remember who it had really been, and the image of Beca fit comfortably well in the situation.

She closed her eyes and settled deeper into the memory, in place but outside of time. In vein, she tried to remember who had actually been there to witness the moment. She couldn’t even remember when it had happened. This was not a memory she had thought about in...well, truthfully, she had completely forgotten about it since it had happened. The age of the memory prevented her from remembering details. Only present, was the sweet feeling of the moment, a honey-like residue, resting delicately in her conscious.

She was now fully trying to convince herself, however, that Beca had not been there. She finally shook her head as if to dislodge the memory and sharply inhaled cold air, opening her eyes to see, hunched over on the side of the banks with chin rested on knees, none other than the subject of her specious nostalgia. Chloe blinked several times and recognized the figure to be but a log, dark and rubbed to clump from weather and wear. Now freaking herself out she rose swiftly and promptly speed walked for her home, holding herself firmly from looking around for fear of misreading another inanimate object.

She wasn’t there, obviously she wasn’t there. Just someone who reminds me of her, or looks like her. Obviously.

[travelingtheusa]

TENNESSEE

2021 Apr 12 (Mon) – We ran a bunch of errands today.  We had to get fuel for the truck and pet food. PetCo did not have Sheba’s food so we stopped at The Fresh Market to get her food and some food items for us.  The store turned out to be small and didn’t have everything we wanted.  So, we had to stop at Kroger to get cat food and the rest of the food we wanted. Lunch was at the Blue Plate Café. I thought the pot roast was chewy but Paul enjoyed the meal.  When we returned to the campground, Paul finished up the wallpaper in the bedroom. It looks very good.  Now I need a different covering on the window treatment. And, so, it starts.  Lol.

Before:

After:

2021 Apr 11 (Sun) – We watched church services on Facebook. Afterward, we drove to Camping World to return a part Paul was not able to use in setting up the cell phone booster. We drove around trying to find a place to have lunch but we couldn’t find any place open and wound up just returning to the campground.  Paul got to work tearing off the old wallpaper in the bedroom and putting up the new paper.  It’s looking good.

2021 Apr 10 (Sat) – Bonnie is doing better.  The galliprant seems to be working for her.  She is still weak on her right side but she’s hardly limping.  We just have to be careful not to get her off balance and make sure she goes slowly up and down the stairs.  Old age sucks – for dogs as well as humans.

     A fierce thunderstorm rolled through early this morning.  We had storms last night from about 8 to 11 p.m. accompanied by the usual tornado warnings.  The storm this morning was so strong that one lightning boom literally lifted me out of the bed.  When the lightning flashed, you could see it through your closed lids.  Sheba must have been going crazy!

     My sister, Susan, is having surgery on her knee and asked if I could come stay for a week or two to help her out.  So I called my cancer doctor to reschedule my PET scan.  I was going to go home May 1 to May 12.  Now it looks like I’ll be flying back on May 16 and staying through Memorial Day.  Susan’s surgery is set for May 17.

     We got aggravated with not being able to get online to check out campsites.  We decided to buy a cell booster and drove to Camping World in Olive Branch in Mississippi (just across the border) to buy a King cell phone booster antenna.  It was $499!  Ugh.  We also picked up two camp chairs since ours are starting to fall apart.  

     Lunch was going to be at the Brass Door Irish Pub in Memphis.  After paying for 3 hours parking in Memphis, we walked a couple of blocks to the restaurant only to find it has been closed for the last year.  We then walked back toward the truck and stopped to eat at the Blue Plate Café Downtown. That was closed indefinitely. Next door was the River Time Café. It was a tiny deli but had a robust menu.  We both got sandwiches with potato salad.  We had to sit outside at one of two tables.  The proprietor said she was not allowed to have people in her shop.  While sitting outside waiting for her to bring out our meal (it’s down south and the wait was very long), an older man came stumbling by and started talking to us.  He was very difficult to understand but we understood that he was drunk and had come to get something to eat to soak the booze up.  At first, I thought he was going to panhandle but he just wanted to talk.  Then he went into the café and picked up his pre-ordered meal.  Finally, our sandwiches came out.  They were delicious.  The owner also gave us a free banana nut muffin because we waited patiently for so long.  That was nice.

 2021 Apr 9 (Fri) – We drove to the vet this morning to drop Bonnie off.  She is getting a test today to see if she has Cushings Disease.  She has had increased thirst, difficulty walking with a weakness on her right side (especially the back leg), and it seems like she has to pee more often.  Could be age related.  It might not. They will give her a shot of cortisol and check her blood at 8 a.m., noon, and 4 p.m.  If she makes more cortisol then she’s got the disease.  If she doesn’t make more cortisol, then she doesn’t have Cushings.  We have our fingers crossed.

     After dropping her off (we had to wait outside for someone to come get her – they’re not letting anyone inside), we went to the Blue Plate Café for breakfast.  It was a cute little place, bright and inviting.  The food was very good, too.  

     Next stop was at Lowe’s.  Paul peeled the wall covering off in the bedroom.  It’s been coming off almost from the day we bought the camper. Now we are looking for a new wallpaper. We found a pattern we like.  We’ll see how it looks.

     We made a quick stop at the Fresh Market.  I am out of Vitamin C and looking for more.  We thought it was a health food type store but it was just a regular supermarket.  I picked up a few items but no vitamins.

     When we got back to the campground, we drove over to the Chucalissa Village in the park.  It is an area where Choctaw tribes lived there hundreds of years ago.  There is a mound and a replica house built on the site. A small museum tells the story of the area, both of the park itself and of the inhabitants who lived here.  The old site was actually discovered by CCC workers who were building a pool for the first all Negro park in the state. It is now run by the University of Memphis.

     At 4:45 p.m. we drove back into town to get Bonnie.  The vet came out to talk to us.  She said the test was negative.  Bonnie does not have Cushings Disease.  She couldn’t see any reason for her leg problems and surmised that it is arthritis.  She told us to continue with the Galliprant and bring her back if things get worse.

     We found something very fascinating.  It is a Smart Mart.  It’s like a new version of the automat.  You pull up, touch a screen, shop for different grocery items, pay and your items are given to you in a big drawer.  There was a delivery truck there filling up the mart when we stopped.

 2021 Apr 8 (Thu) – We wanted to go to the Cotton Museum but it was closed due to the pandemic.  We then drove to the National Ornamental Metal Museum.  Although their website said they opened at 10 a.m., they were closed with a sign out front saying they open at 11 a.m.  So we drove around Memphis for an hour.  Saw Beale Street (Home of the Blues) in its quiet state; i.e. with no partymakers at night.  Paul says they are trying to be like New Orleans.  I don’t think so.  New Orleans is different.  It is the place for jazz music.  Memphis is blues music.  The city is confusing with lots of closed off streets for renovations or construction. As you get further outside the city, the buildings are old, dilapidated, spray painted with graffiti.  Many homes have bars on the windows and doors.

     We tried to go to the Mississippi River Museum but it wasn’t where Trip Advisor said it should be.  We stopped at the Visitors Center and were told they moved the museum to Mud Island and it has been closed for the past year and a half.  We went back to the Metal Museum and they were open. The most delightful part of the tour was the exhibit by international artists.  They took a 155mm steel bar and made all kinds of things from it.  It was fascinating to see how imaginative people can be.

     After the Metal Museum, we drove to the post office and dropped off all the envelopes we prepared.  Then we went to the Bass Pro Shops Giant Pyramid for lunch at Uncle Bucks Restaurant. They have rooms up on the second and third level.  So the store is also a hotel.  Paul bought a flannel shirt.  We looked for new camp chairs but couldn’t find what we wanted.

     On the way back to the campground, we stopped at Kroger Supermarket and picked up some groceries.  The camp host told us that the campground will be full this weekend. Although many RVs have come in, it is not full.  Either he can’t count or some of the campsites are not usable.  Whatever.

2021 Apr 7 (Wed) – We spent the day working on the mass mailing for SMART.  There were 32 duplicate addresses and 32 companies that did not have envelopes.  I typed labels for the missing companies and stuck them over the duplicate addresses.  Saved a lot of work (Paul’s suggestion).  We finished folding the letters, inserting them in the envelopes, and putting the return address labels and stamps on all the envelopes.  We just have to deliver them to the post office.

     The vet called this morning.  Bonnie’s liver enzymes are high.  She thinks Bonnie might have Cushings Disease.  We will drop her off at the vet on Friday so they can do some tests. In the meantime, Bonnie is having a very difficult time walking.  She fights getting up if she doesn’t have to.  We have resorted to using the special stairs we bought for our last dog to help her get in and out of the trailer easier.  It seems to be helping Bonnie.

      We packed up the trailer today and Paul drove over to the dump station to empty the tanks. I sat at the campsite with Bonnie because she was in too bad shape.  It took him 20 minutes then he was back and we got all hooked up again.  Good for another week.

 2021 Apr 6 (Tue) – We took Bonnie to the vet this morning.  We had to sit outside while they took her inside. The vet called on the phone and we talked about Bonnie’s history and issues.  She didn’t find anything obvious wrong with her foot.  Thinks it might be arthritis.  She took blood and will call us tomorrow.

      We left the vet and went looking for a fast food place for lunch. We stopped at a Burger King. There were six cars on line in front of us but were still on line for over half an hour.  It was the slowest fast food joint I’ve ever been to!  The junior whoppers were small and the fries were not even warm.  At least Bonnie enjoyed her burger.

     We went back to Office Depot to pick up the copies.  The service – again! – was so damn slow.  When the clerk finally waited on me, she asked if I had gotten an email saying the project was ready.  I replied that it was agreed upon yesterday that I would be back today.  With a sigh, she went to search on the shelves.  After about 5 minutes, she found my print job.

     When we got back to the campground, Bonnie’s back leg was giving out on her.  She could barely walk and kept sitting down and refusing to move any further.  I called the vet to ask if she had examined Bonnie’s other legs or just her hurt foot.  After some discussion, the vet said we’d wait to see what the bloodwork shows. The results should be back tomorrow.

     I took the mailing list I got from the Muster Master (who got it from the Chamber of Commerce in Shawnee, Oklahoma) and struggled through printing 360 envelopes.  Our printer is not a high capacity printer.  It took me hours to get them all printed.  The program kept shutting down and I would have to restart it.  In the meantime, Paul started folding the letters to insert in the envelopes.

 2021 Apr 5 (Mon) – The cell service at this campground is sooooo bad!  Even my phone isn’t working right and often drops to 3G with one bar.  It drops calls like crazy.  Getting on anything beyond standard email with the laptop is almost impossible.  Twelve days of this will be maddening.

     We drove to CVS to get Paul’s first COVID-19 shot.  On the way, we got an email saying his appointment had been cancelled.  We decided to just go in anyway and play dumb.  It worked.  Old people and technology is a recognized disability.  Lol.

     After the drugstore, we drove to Olive Garden to get lunch.  It appeared that they were repairing fire damage. Nothing to eat there.  We then tried another restaurant but it looked too high class.  We stopped at Seasons 52 Grill, which looked moderate from the outside but once we got inside – va, va, va, voom!  Very expensive.  We spent over $100.  Oh, well, what’s money for except to spend?  The lunch was excellent.

     We drove over to the Agricenter to look at the campground.  We will be going there after the rally in Arkansas and wanted to check out the best entry point.  It has a large campground but the spaces are a little too close.  Oh, well. It will be home for Paul when I fly back to New York next month.

      We stopped at Office Depot to drop of letters for copying.  I volunteered to be the Administrative Chairperson for the SMART 2021 National Muster.  One of my jobs is soliciting donations.  So I drafted a letter and attachment, got approval, then brought it to Office Depot to make 365 copies of each one.  I also gave them copies of return address labels to make up.  I don’t if it’s a “down south” thing, but the service was so frickin’ slow.  We were there almost an hour just to drop off the originals.  I said I’d be back tomorrow to pick up the copies.

     Bonnie has been favoring her front, right paw.  She started limping on it yesterday so I called a vet today and made an appointment to bring her in tomorrow.  The paw got worse over the day and now you can see her paw is swollen.  Hope they can figure out what’s wrong and fix it.

 2021 Apr 4 (Sun - Easter) – We managed to dial into the church service this morning.  It’s nice to be able to share the service with our congregation back home.

     I walked around the campground today.  Most the campsites are empty.  A lot of campers left today.  I would have thought they’d stay for the weekend.  Guess I was wrong.  We stayed in today.  Paul repaired the AC and we did the laundry.  It was a very nice day.  The trees are a brilliant green and the buds are in full bloom.  The sky was an incredible blue and the temperature reached the high 60s.  It was a beautiful Easter day.  We got to skype with both Travis and Miranda.  That make the day perfect!

 2021 Apr 3 (Sat) – We wasted 20 minutes this morning trying to get the Sunday service streaming on the iPad before we realized it was Saturday. Lol.  There are not nearly as many RVs in the campground as I thought there would be.  Over half left today.  I have never seen so many tiny trailers in the campground at a time.  There’s a teardrop trailer, an A-Line pyramid shaped camper, a Scottie, a couple of tiny trailers, and several tents.  

     The day was pleasant.  It started out cold in the 40s but warmed to the mid-60s.  The sky was clear and a brilliant blue and there was hardly any wind. There was a terrible odor in the air. At first, we thought it was the smell of campers dumping their tanks but it lingered too long.  There must be a waste plant somewhere nearby.  

 2021 Apr 2 (Fri) – Sure was glad we had that electric blanket on last night!  We are under a freeze warning for a few days.  We drove back down to Southaven, MS to get dog food at Petco and cat food at Kroger.  Picked up some people food, too, while we were at it.  Stopped at Southaven RV Super Center where Paul was able to buy a replacement for a broken part in the AC.  Not that we need AC right now, but (hopefully) soon.  It also operates the heat pump, which we DO need right now.  We have been keeping warm enough with the fireplace, the furnace, and a small electric heater.  On the way back, we spotted a pup up on the side of the highway. We stopped and shooed it away. Down the embankment, the mama dog and two other pups were skittering around.  They were clearly unowned canines.  We were glad we could chase the pup off the roadway and keep it from getting run over.

     We stopped at Memphis BBQ for lunch.  The meal was not that good.  Paul’s pulled pork was bland and my burnt tips were dry.  The restaurant was very busy and service was understandably slow.  

     The day turned out to be nice although the temperature never got out of the 50s.  The skies were clear and deep blue.  We’ve been watching RVs come in all day.  This is a holiday weekend and the campground is going to be full.

 2021 Apr 1 (Thu) – We packed up and left Fulton, MS at 10 a.m. It was 135 miles to Memphis, TN. We are staying in the T.O. Fuller State Park Campground.  There are lots of woods around and plenty to see in Memphis.  The sites have a good amount of space between them.  The roads and campsites are asphalt.  We have electric and water hookups.  We will have to go dump after a week because there is no sewer hookup and we won’t be able to last 12 days without filling the tanks.

     It got real cold last night and we pulled out the electric blanket. Imagine!  Needing the electric blanket down south in April.  We watched the Holy Thursday service from our church streaming on Facebook.  We also facetimed with Paul’s sister, Joan, about our cruise to Australia in January.

[summerfitzy]

courting miss sætre (6/6)

Fandom: SKAM Ship: Noora x William Summary: Miss Noora Sætre has ambitions of spinsterhood; Mr. William Magnusson has other ideas.

(The wildly anachronistic regency era au that literally no one asked for)

Notes: Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who’s followed this story! It’s been insanely fun to write, and it means SO much to know that other people have enjoyed it too. Noorhelm and historical romance novels are two of my very favorite things, trying to combine the two with this fic was seriously like my Dream Project -- every like and reblog and comment on this story made me over the moon happy, I love this fandom more than words <3 <3 <3

ao3

“I’m never forgiving my parents for this,” Eva declared.

Noora only had a few things left to pack; she’d started upon returning to the Mohns’ townhouse last night, before Mr. and Mrs. Mohn had even hinted that she’d need to leave as soon as possible, and had risen early to finish. “Eva…” She’d expected the dismissal. Keeping a scandal in their home, as their daughter’s principle companion, would do their reputation no favors.

“I haven’t forgiven you either.” Sitting beside Noora on the floor, Eva shook her head at the ground, loose hair spilling about her cheeks. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Mr. Magnusson!”

“As you tell me everything?”

She flushed, her cheeks doing their best to match the red highlighting her waves. Then she cast a contemplative glance at Noora’s luggage, like she was considering unpacking it article by article. “Not everything,” she admitted. “But only because I don’t want you to worry.”

Noora raised both eyebrows at her.

“Oh, fine,” Eva ceded. “We both need to work on communication. Which would be easier if you weren’t leaving London.”

She couldn’t argue that, so she shrugged instead. Everything would be easier if she weren’t leaving London, leaving her publisher, leaving Eva. Noora swallowed. Everything would be easier if she could return to the beginning of yesterday night, when she was still sharing secret smiles with William from opposite sides of the ballroom.

“You’re really taking a ship to the Continent? Alone?”

“I have money saved.”

“I wasn’t concerned about the money.”

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the traffic beyond the window, the murmur of Noora’s folding.

“Noora...” Eva started, then hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to marry Mr. Magnusson?”

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “We don’t fit.”

Another hesitation. “I—” And another. “I don’t think I can marry Jonas.”

A new silence took shape. It felt more fragile. “Really?” Noora asked, handling the word like glass.

“I’ve known him for such a long time.” She exhaled a slow breath “And it’s always been such a given that we would marry eventually. Eventually always seemed so far off, but now it’s here, and—we still don’t fit.” She exhaled again, as though she could breathe out months of stress at once. “I know he’s your publishing contact, and that he knows your secret…”

Noora shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Not really. She was already leaving town, already had her newest draft finished and out of her hands. She could correspond with her publisher directly. And if Jonas were truly spiteful enough to release her name out of anger at Eva… “Have you told him yet?” Well, then she would hear from abroad.

Eva shook her head. “This afternoon.”

Ah.

Still navigating the glasswork and shards the seemed to surround their conversation, Noora finally dared to ask, “Because of Mr. Schistad?”

“Partly.” Eva chewed on her lower lip. “I like him.”

And Noora could say that she didn’t trust him, that she didn’t believe he had any genuine intentions of marriage. But Eva sounded serious, and she was in no position to caution anyone about social ruin just now. “I had that figured out.”

“And you like Mr. Magnusson.”

Noora looked down into her nearly full luggage. She had that figured out too.

She had her private cabin sorted on the steamer, her luggage set down by her cot, a regular stream of letters promised by Eva, and her head in her hands when a knock sounded on the door. “Ma’am,” a heavily accented voice called. “We have your husband on board asking to see you.”

Her head and heart leapt up in tandem. “My husband?” Her legs ached to move but couldn’t break through the sudden ice that had settled over her kneecaps.

“I told him you only booked a cabin for one, but he reckons you’ll make do.”

Noora chipped at the ice in her knees, muscle by muscle. Perhaps they had the wrong room, the wrong woman. Perhaps a lunatic was waiting on the other side of the door. Perhaps—

All at once, she was on her feet, stumbling towards the door, wrenching her grip around the knob.

William stared down at her from beyond the threshold, his hair mussed by the ocean breeze, his eyes rimmed with dark circles.

Noora stared back. He was here.

The thought must have slipped out of her mouth, because William answered, “Miss Mohn told me where to find you,” before stepping into her cabin and closing the door behind them.

“Eva told you?” When, how, why? (She already knew why.)

“This morning. I came to call on you.”

Noora didn’t cross her arms, but wrapped them around herself instead. All the better to hold her resolve, herself, together.

“You were just going to leave?” William said. He tacked an inflection on at the last word, but it still sounded like more of an accusation than a question.

“I can’t stay with the Mohns anymore.”

“And you can’t marry me.”

She could barely breathe; it had nothing to do with her stays or the cabin air. “No.” Everything to do with the intensity of William’s crackling, brown-eyed gaze.

“That’s slum,” he said, still not blinking. “If you don’t want to marry me, have the guts to say it. Don’t hide behind can’t.”

“But”—they’d already gone through all of this, she’d already spent a night tossing and turning over it, she couldn’t do it again—“it’s true.”

William’s jaw shifted. “What’s true is that I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t need you to let me do anything,” she protested, more out of ritual than feeling, because of course she needed him to let her go. She couldn’t stand to otherwise. Just the motions of stepping onto the boat and closing herself into her cabin had struck a wound straight through her soles.

“That’s true too,” he acknowledged. “Which is why I booked a ticket on this steamer.”

Noora’s mouth opened. Nothing, not even breath, came out.

“You think that my reputation, your past, your book’s notoriety, matter to me. They don’t. And I’ll move to bloody France or Italy or India with you if that’s what it takes to prove it.”

Her lips fell another fraction apart. William brushed their lower curve with his thumb before catching her cheek in his palm.

“We have to be together,” he murmured. “Say that we should be together.”

Noora’s head had gone messy and muddled the moment he had appeared. Every inch of it, from her scalp to her tongue to the flushed skin that William kept cradling. “You’d travel to the Continent without a piece of luggage?”

“I don’t need luggage as much as I need you—to challenge me, to laugh at me, to do whatever the hell you want to me, as long as you’re here. And you need me. People need people.” William’s focus didn’t waver. “Say you’ll marry me, Noora.”

She turned her head, just far enough that her lips could close against the side of his palm. Almost a kiss. People need people. She’d tried so hard to convince herself otherwise—that she didn’t need anyone beyond her few friends, that no man was worth the risk of betrayal and scorn and heartbreak. And yet…

First, she nodded. Then she lifted her hands, guided his face down to hers, and kissed him outright.

(William’s grin tasted better than drinking chocolate.) 

They hurried off of the ship, minutes before it set sail from the harbor, two tickets wasted. Two grins; two beams; two hands twined. 

One long, rickety carriage ride later, they arrived in Gretna Green, found the blacksmith’s shop, and paid an obscene amount of money for an immediate anvil wedding.

“Forasmuch as this man and woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring, I, therefore, declare them to be men and wife before God . . .”

A golden ring glinted on Noora’s third finger.

The hammer rang down on the anvil.

William’s growing smile swept across hers, propriety be damned. 

If their inn bedroom was small by Noora’s standards, it had to be minuscule by William’s. It boasted a bed just large enough for two, a smudged window overlooking the cloudy village square, and scarce space for anything else.

“We’ll stay somewhere nicer on our honeymoon,” William informed her. He came up behind her to wrap his smooth hands around her hips as they surveyed the cheery yellow bedspread, before nipping her warm, racing pulse.

“Honeymoon?” Noora arced back into her husband’s—her husband’s—touch and chest.

“Mhm.” He kept kissing his way down her throat, mapping its thin, pale skin with his mouth. “France.” He grazed her neck with his teeth. “Italy.” She covered his knuckles with her palms. “Anywhere. Your choice.”

Her choice. Marriage had long seemed like just the opposite to Noora—a lock and key that would forever steal her independence and agency. How strange that she couldn’t glance down at the ring adorning her finger without smiling; that hurrying from that steamer with William had felt like a prisoner’s escape from the gallows.

Later, she might admit to him she felt freer now than she had in years. In the meantime, she turned around to return his kiss.

Noora gave her fingers over to his dark hair as William spread his grip along the small of her back, tugging her even and ever closer. She plundered his mouth with her own, demanding everything that she had almost denied herself: the softness of his lips, the hard need in his kiss, the intimacy of his smile. Giving it all back again and again and again.

Her chest and breath and heart strained against her corset. She hadn’t laced it terribly tight, but her dress had still turned stifling somewhere between the blacksmith’s shop and their bedroom; altogether too small and much too hot as William ran his fingertips along its cornflower blue silk. Never tearing his lips from hers, never allowing his tongue to stray from the desperate rhythm it had struck against hers, he moved his fingers up her spine, loosening her stays lace by lace until the silk sagged against her bodice. One step away from William, and it would slip from her chest completely.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured into her mouth, his rasped voice proof of all the breath she’d stolen from him.

Noora nodded her chin against his, brushed her lips against his, and then inched away. Within seconds, her dress had sunk into a puddle at her ankles. Clad in only her white chemise, she stared up at William. He stared back. Then Noora was stumbling the buttons of his shirt undone and hurrying its sleeves past his shoulders, until it had joined her dress on the dim floorboards. She’d felt the firm plain of his chest a dozen times over now, but had never seen its bare, pale span before. The hard lines and muscles that hid beneath his clothing. Noora shook away the ridiculous impulse to kiss her way from his collarbone to his stomach; they had world enough and time.

For now, she lifted her eyes to meet William’s once more. Gaze heated with something close to reverence, he scanned her—her parted lips, her heaving chest, the silhouette that he could doubtless make out from beneath her undergarments.

She thought he might help her out of her chemise now, but his hands went to her bun instead. William pulled pin after pin from her hair until her blonde locks gave way to gravity, falling to her shoulders in soft, scrambled waves. The corners of his lips rose into an even broader smile as he combed his fingers through her freed hair. “I’ve never seen it down before.” His breath felt like candlelight on her skin; one touch away from burning straight through her.

Noora didn’t have to ask whether or not he liked her loose hair—she could feel his appreciation in the next stroke of his lips. Losing his grip in her hair, William kissed her as though he’d like to inhale her.

Clutching the nape of his neck, Noora breathed him in right back.

They spent the next four days in their musty inn bedroom, ignoring the cramped walls and creaking floorboards; ignoring everything but each other.

“We’ll just lie here for one more day,” Noora said each morning, her blonde hair spread about her pillow and her legs tangled with her husband’s.

And each morning, William replied, “As you wish, Mrs. Magnusson.” He murmured the words into her mouth the first day, her stomach the second, her neck the third, and her inner thigh the fourth. Always smiling, no matter how hard the rain poured beyond their window.

(Needless to say, William Magnusson’s elopement caused quite a stir across London's drawing rooms and scandal sheets—not to be rivaled until the sudden, altogether unexpected betrothal of Mr. Christoffer Schistad and Miss Eva Mohn.)

[nyutheatrepractices2020]

The Final Countdown

[Saturday, January 18th, 2020]

¡Hola, amigos! It’s Casey here.

I can hardly believe that we are rapidly approaching this program’s close. It feels like we have been here for ages, and yet at the same time, our first night here feels like yesterday. I have gotten to experience and understand this little island in such a unique and special way—with the guidance and love of our Puerto Rican teaching artists, rather than as just a tourist. This has opened my eyes to Puerto Rico as an entirely new world and helped me to contextualize this experience in a totally different way. I have become so close with so many of my classmates—most of whom were either acquaintances or strangers before we arrived. 

When I woke up on Saturday morning, my roommate Clear reminded me about a pastry shop across the street from our hotel that was only open on Saturday mornings--Lucia Patisserie. When we arrived around 8am, Aaron was already checking out, and we joined him for breakfast. Danielle joined us soon after. If you are ever in San Juan on a Saturday, this place is a MUST!

[Clear at Lucia Patisserie]

[Aaron with his pastries and cappuccino]

[Pastry display]

[Danielle arrives]

As we moved into the final full-day of our “major” classes, our goal in physical theatre was to begin planning our group’s final performance. We spent most of our morning session reviewing, exploring, and brainstorming ideas through movement. We began class with a physical warm-up; we began many classes this way, and I always felt it was a great way to gain awareness, release tension, and “get into” my body.

Next, we moved into “Brain Dance”—another activity that we had often used as a warm-up. The purpose of Brain Dance is to awaken the body by following a sequence of exploratory movements that mimic the physical movement development of children from infancy through adulthood. We have been doing different versions of Brain Dance since our very first class with Alejandra (when both majors were combined). This time, however, Alejandra gave us a challenge—we were to explore movements while remaining seated or low to the ground. By restricting or limiting the height or range of motion, we had to become more creative. We paired up with a partner and led them through the sequence of the Brain Dance, using imagery, tactile sensations, and all sorts of creativity. 

[Saya and Echo doing Brain Dance]

[Clear and I doing a Brain Dance]

Next, we did an activity called “Shadow, Mirror, Conversation.” We practiced each of these activities with a partner one at a time. While most of us who have done some amount of theatre are familiar with the “mirror” portion of the exercise, “shadow” and “conversation” were new or less familiar. In order to shadow, you must stand very close behind your partner and slightly staggered to the side. You must follow your partner’s movements as closely as possible, which is surprisingly difficult when you are very close behind. (See photos below for examples.) After shadow, we moved into mirror. For this exercise, you maintain eye contact with your partner and attempt to move as one with shared power so that one partner is not “leading” the other. Last, we created a physical “conversation” with our partner—one person proposes an action, and the other responds. The conversation can include abstract or literal movements; perhaps some of us had a little too much fun with this activity!

[Clear and Echo doing “Shadow.”]

[Saya and I doing “Mirror.”]

My favorite activity of the day was called Peripheral Dance, or Peripheral Movement. In this activity, everyone stands in a circle with one person in the center. Those who are around the outside of the circle stand profile to the person in the center so that they are never staring directly at the middle person. The person who is in the center moves, dances, and improvises whatever they would like and for however long they would like. Those that are standing in the circle must continuously dance and improvise, attempting to incorporate movements that they see from the person in the center in their peripheral vision. They should not copy any moves directly, but rather allow the center person’s movements to influence their own. After the person in the center is done improvising, they move into the circle, and a new person moves into the center. This repeats until every person has had an opportunity to improvise movements in the center of the circle. When we performed this activity, after each of us had the opportunity to be in the center, Alejandra had instructed us to continue to improvise on the outside of the circle and allow all of the other people around the outside of the circle to influence our movements. Our movements all slowly transformed into one, and we ended in a pose that was influenced by one another. It was a really beautiful way to improvise, and later, we all expressed (while drenched in sweat and out of breath) how much we had enjoyed this exercise. 

Another activity that allowed us to explore movement was called “That!” In pairs, one person would improvise movements while the other person observed. When the observer called “that,” the mover must freeze in that position and explore whatever movement they landed on. The exploration continues until the observer sees something new that they would like the mover to explore and calls “that” again. After several minutes of exploration, the partners switch roles. As an observer, it was interesting to see how closely our partner understood what we wanted them to explore when we called “that!” As a mover, it was interesting to see what our partner found interesting in our movements and to try to guess what they wanted us to explore.

[Our physical theatre group--Alejandra, Echo, Saya, Clear, and I]

After an invigorating morning session, we took a break to go outside of El Bastión and see some of the performances happening around us. Of course, this was the third day of the San Sebastián Festival, and by far the biggest, loudest, most crowded, and highest energy day yet! El Bastión was also hosting an arts and crafts fair, and bringing in bigger crowds each day. At certain times, it was a bit distracting to be working in our little studio in El Bastión and to hear the chaos of the outside world through our window. At other points, it was amazing to open our studio door and be transported into the joy and craziness of the festival. I feel very grateful that we were so close to the excitement and that we were able to experience a taste of it on our breaks. 

[Arts and crafts fair at El Bastión]

[Arts and crafts fair at El Bastión]

While we took a break from our morning session, we were able to watch one performer who combined clowning with circus arts, including juggling, diabolo, and balancing in dangerous ways.

[Circus performer outside of El Bastión]

[Circus performer outside of El Bastión]

Afterward, Jin, Saya, and I headed to Mallorca (at Jin’s recommendation) to grab a bite to eat.

[Jin, Saya, and I at Mallorca]

On our way, we stumbled through the crowded streets of the San Sebastián Festival. The utter joy of the fiestas was palpable. We happened upon incredible live musical performances and even a small, seemingly impromptu parade with musicians and people on stilts. (I encourage you all to check out Nathasax on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYOM_hbZ_iKq7kbkzqEZglw.) (Also, pictures below.) 

In the afternoon, we did an exercise that continued our exploration of the concept of the body as terrain—inspired in part by a bell hooks reading that we had done in preparation for this class. For this activity, everyone sat in a circle. One person came into the middle of the circle and used their body to sculpt a “terrain” or a landscape. After, another person would come in and inhabit or interact with the terrain in whatever way they chose. The purpose of this activity was to explore the difference between terrain and inhabitant, and the relationship between the two. The terrains we created were supposed to draw on images or feelings from our experiences growing up, and the terrains that we created were supposed to be abstract. I enjoyed exploring all of the different ways that inhabitants could support, conform to, or use and abuse their terrains. I was moved by some of the images that we created, and I would love to use this activity again, possibly as the basis of a movement or act project. We discussed how this activity had so much more meaning now that we have spent over a week learning to explore and express with our bodies and using physical language, and how this wouldn’t have been as rich had we done this activity in the first few days of class. 

We spent much of the afternoon moving into performance planning. I don’t want to spoil too much about our upcoming final performance, but I will share that I was excited and inspired by the collaboration of ideas. I look forward to sharing our work with the Masks and Puppetry group, and seeing their work as well!

After class, I decided to stay in Old San Juan to explore the festival in the evening, which I had not had the opportunity to do yet. We happened upon some of our peers from the other group while watching Rochelle’s clown performance outside of El Bastión. 

[Rochelle’s clown performance outside of El Bastión]

Many of us went to Señor Paleta to get popsicles before continuing to explore the festival. The highlight of the night for me was the performance of a musical group called Tuna de Segreles. This was a fairly large group (probably close to 20 or maybe more!) of primarily older male musicians who played instruments ranging from guitar to the accordion! They all had beautiful voices and sang in 4- to 5-part harmony. They also had a sign language interpreter who performed their pieces with such beautiful musicality. Their music had a traditional Latin American flavor, even when playing songs that would be considered “classical” (see their twist on Beethoven’s 5th Symphony here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8u5RB_nzMQ). Many of the songs that they performed were unfamiliar to me—however, most of the audience was singing along the entire time. Of course, I was excited to hear them perform songs that I was familiar with—such as Despacito and Bailando. (Despacito here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErzcyKqOim4.) Singing and dancing along with this group and the joyous crowd was easily the highlight of my day. 

[Tuna de Segreles performing in Old San Juan]

Getting an Uber back to the hotel when so many streets had been closed off for the festival was a struggle, but ended up being more than worth it! When we finally met our Uber driver after a long walk through a short downpour, we were delighted to be in a car that not only had party lights but an exciting dance music playlist.

[Aaron enjoying the party Uber]

I am sad that tomorrow is our last day here, but excited for all that we have in store. ¡Hasta mañana! 

Casey Kobylar

[Pictures added 1/22/20. Sorry for the delay!]