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supernovafics · 5 days ago

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boyfriend!steve who loves recording everything

wc: 899

a/n: been thinking about this a lot a lot and finally got around to writing it

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and here we have my beautiful girlfriend who put this whole party together.”

you looked into the video camera for a brief second, drunkenly smiling into it before looking up at steve. “you’re having way too much fun with this thing already, birthday boy.”

“what? it’s actually a very cool gift.” you could tell steve was a little drunk too, but you didn’t think that would’ve changed how into the gift he was; the camera the kids pooled their money together to get for him. “say hi.”

“hi,” you said, smiling and looking right into the lens again, and then you playfully stuck your tongue out at it.

“i love you,” steve said with a soft happy laugh. “so much.”

“i love you too. so, so much,” you told him and he leaned down to kiss you.

“thank you again for doing this whole thing,” he mumbled against your lips. “best surprise ever.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “no need to thank me. you deserve it, best boyfriend ever.”

the camera was filming the wooden floor at this point, but it probably still picked up what you two were saying.

you pulled away from steve after a second, knowing that the longer you two were wrapped up in one another, the more your friends would playfully make fun of the two of you.

“you should go film robin and nancy doing karaoke. i think that them drunkenly singing bohemian rhapsody needs to be documented.”

steve nodded. “great idea.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after that first night, it should’ve been obvious, but that camera became steve’s favorite thing. it almost made the new pair of nikes you’d gotten him look like the most boring gift ever, but you didn’t really mind it.

it was always the most random moments that he wanted to record of you two. “for memories” was always his response when you asked why he wanted to record you two brushing your teeth in the morning or you two lying on the couch and watching a bad movie that he brought home from family video.

or even in this moment when you two were cooking in the kitchen of your shared apartment.

you immediately gave him a look when you noticed him turn on the camera. “steve, you’re making it seem like we’re cooking something super elaborate. it’s just a grilled cheese.”

“it’s still like a fun cooking show,” he said, smiling as he set the camera up on the counter, placing it on top of a stack of random containers. “what do you need, chef?”

there was no way of telling if either of you were actually in the frame— you had a feeling that at least your heads were cut off— but still, you decided to play along. he was acting too cute and adorable not to.

“bread and cheese, chef,” you told him as you went to grab a pan from the cabinet below you. “oh, and butter too.”

“got it,” steve nodded and went over to the pantry and then the fridge, and then made a show of showing the camera all of the ingredients he grabbed.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little as you watched him. you decided to play along further and follow suit as you did most of the actual cooking; making a point of showing the camera exactly what you were doing and even exaggeratingly explaining it too.

and when you two were eating at your small kitchen table ten minutes later, you admitted to steve with a smile that he was right, and filming everything did make it feel like a “fun cooking show.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

and then there were the moments when you were the one to grab the camera and initiate the recording. it was seldom, but when you did do it, steve always got the happiest grin on his face.

like, in this moment, when you were coming out of the bathroom and grabbing steve’s t-shirt that had been haphazardly tossed to the floor thirty minutes earlier and slipping it over your body. for no particular reason, other than you found yourself wanting to, you grabbed the camera off of steve’s nightstand and then slid into his lap, straddling him.

he was already smiling as you turned on the camera and the familiar red light came on when you pressed record.

“say hi,” you told him, your own smile on your face as you pointed the camera at him. his messy hair from what you two had previously been doing was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen and you made sure the camera saw it.

he smiled wider. “hi.”

one of his hands found your bare thigh and you let out a contented hum in response.

“y'know, i’m surprised you haven’t asked to film us yet,” you said softly. "us doing what we just did…”

his eyes widened a bit at your shy suggestion and you smiled wider, zooming in on his expression. “is that an option?”

you stopped recording him then and reached over to set the camera back down on the nightstand.

“maybe,” you answered, shrugging innocently. “i think it could be kinda hot.”

steve shook his head. “not just kinda. very hot.”

you leaned down to kiss him then. it was slow and languid and steve’s hands immediately went to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“very hot,” you hummed in agreement.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

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emjayewrites · 1 month ago

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puppy love • aurelien tchouameni (1/8)

SYNOPSIS: Ocho has a dog crush...too bad the owner hates both Aurelien and Ocho.

WARNINGS: mentions of dogs humping each other/in love, football b.s., eventual smut, eventual boyfriend!aurelien, cursing, light enemies-to-lovers.

PAIRINGS: aurelien tchouameni x black!femreader (Y/N)

TAGLIST: @sucredreamer, @trenterprise, @tchouathon, @trentswrld, @f1-football-fiend, @vile-harlot, @certainsaturn, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @foreverisntenough, @essaysbyciara, @elyseesarchive @deonn-jaelle @alika-4466 @saturnville

A/N: Another Aurelien series???? Anyways, please let me know if you wish to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, as always, please like, comment, and send asks! Dividers by @inklore.

Chapter 1: You Got A Girlfriend?

Aurélien leaned back against the park bench, feeling the cool breeze on his skin as he scrolled lazily through Instagram. It was his usual Sunday routine—a quiet morning at the dog park, letting Ocho burn off energy while he caught up on his feed. Ocho, his Belgian Malinois, was darting around the open space, his sleek, muscular form a blur of tan and black as he chased after his usual playmate—a slightly smaller Malinois. The two dogs had an almost ritualistic bond. Every weekend, like clockwork, they'd play chase, wrestle a bit, and then inevitably, one would spot a squirrel and the chaos would ensue.

Today was no different. Ocho and the other dog took off in a flash, their eyes trained on a squirrel that had dared to cross their path. Aurélien glanced up briefly, watching them weave between trees before disappearing behind a line of bushes. He wasn’t concerned. Ocho had a habit of running off to chase squirrels, but he always came back within a few minutes, panting and satisfied.

As Aurélien's thumb swiped up, he chuckled at a video of someone’s dog trying to fit into a too-small bed. He was deep into the endless scroll when a sudden voice jolted him back to reality.

"Excuse me! Whose dog is this? Is this your dog?"

He looked up, startled, and spotted a woman walking toward him, holding Ocho by the collar. The other dog was trotting behind her, looking equally guilty and winded from the run.

Aurélien stood up quickly, pocketing his phone. "Yeah, that’s my dog. What’s going on?" He noticed the woman was around his age, with rich brown skin that glowed in the sunlight, her features sharp and striking. Her bohemian braids were pulled into a messy bun, and she wore a cropped pullover and leggings that showed off her athletic build. Her eyes were wide with irritation as she marched toward him, and Ocho, sensing the shift in her mood, looked up at Aurélien with his big, innocent eyes.

The woman stopped in front of him, her grip still firm on Ocho’s collar. "I found your dog humping mine," she said flatly, her expression unreadable as she looked between him and Ocho.

Aurélien blinked, processing her words for a second before an involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. "Humping?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not amused. "Yes, humping. Your dog was violating Lady. It was like some weird dog soap opera scene back there."

He couldn't help but laugh again, the image too ridiculous not to. "Ocho? Really? That's what they were doing?" He glanced down at his dog, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging as if he had no idea what was happening.

The woman, however, wasn't finding any of this funny. She released Ocho’s collar and placed a hand on her hip. "It’s not a joke. Ocho was—what’s the word—taking Lady’s innocence!"

Aurélien smirked, shaking his head as he crouched down to ruffle Ocho’s fur. "You know, these two have been playing together for months now. I wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the first time."

That comment earned him a deep scowl. "Excuse me?"

He stood back up, realizing a little too late that he'd said the wrong thing. "I just mean… they’re friends. Maybe, uh, things happen sometimes." His words came out clumsily, and the girl’s expression only darkened.

"So, you're saying this might be a regular thing? Your dog humping mine without permission?"

Aurélien winced. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like that. "No, no, I’m just saying they play together a lot, so maybe…" He trailed off, realizing he was only digging himself deeper.

"Unbelievable." The woman sighed, clearly exasperated. She bent down to snap the leash onto Lady’s collar while shooting Aurélien a look that made it clear she wasn’t amused. "Your dog is a menace," she muttered, tugging Lady toward her, but the dog whined softly, resisting her pull.

Aurélien watched as Lady whimpered and tried to edge closer to Ocho, who responded by leaning in and licking her face gently, as if to say goodbye. It was almost sweet, and Aurélien had to stifle another laugh. Clearly, Ocho had made an impression.

The woman, however, wasn’t having it. She tugged harder on Lady’s leash, dragging her away despite the dog’s reluctance. "Let’s go, Lady," she muttered under her breath, and with one last pitiful glance at Ocho, Lady finally obeyed.

Aurélien stood there for a moment, watching them leave the park, Lady’s tail dragging sadly behind her. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Ocho, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Alors, toi…" he began, speaking in French, the familiar tone of his voice making Ocho perk up. "Qu'est-ce que tu faisais, mon gars? (What were you doing, buddy?)"

Ocho wagged his tail, his ears pricked forward as if expecting praise.

"T'as une copine maintenant? (You’ve got a girlfriend now?)" Aurélien asked, raising an eyebrow as he crouched down to look Ocho in the eyes. The dog, blissfully unaware of the chaos he had just caused, merely licked Aurélien’s face in response.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head. "Tu sais, tu reçois plus d'action que moi ces jours-ci. (You know, you're getting more action than I am these days.)"

Ocho tilted his head, as if trying to understand, but all he knew was that his owner seemed to be in a good mood, which meant more treats or belly rubs soon.

"T'es vraiment un charmeur, hein? (You're really a charmer, huh?)" Aurélien stood up, kissing his teeth in mock disapproval. "Taking Lady’s innocence…" He repeated the phrase to himself, still amused by how serious the woman had been about it.

With a sigh, he hooked the leash onto Ocho’s collar, tugging gently to signal that it was time to go. "Come on, Casanova," he muttered under his breath. "On rentre. (Let’s go home.)"

As they made their way out of the park, Aurélien couldn’t help but glance back, half-expecting to see the girl and Lady again. He felt a little bad for laughing, but the whole situation had been so ridiculous, and Ocho—well, Ocho was just being a dog. He shook his head, thinking about how awkward the conversation had been. Hopefully, she’d see the humor in it eventually. Or not. Either way, it made for an interesting morning.

As they walked, Ocho trotted beside him, happily oblivious to the fact that he might’ve just ruined a perfectly good dog friendship. But Aurélien couldn’t be too mad at him. Dogs were dogs, after all.

"Who knows, maybe you’ll see Lady again next week," he said, casting a glance down at Ocho, who barked in response, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "T'es vraiment incroyable, Ocho. (You’re really something, Ocho.)"

The dog looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and Aurélien couldn’t help but laugh. He patted Ocho’s head affectionately. "Allez, rentrons à la maison. (Alright, let’s head home.)"

And with that, the two of them walked down the path, leaving the dog park—and Lady’s scandalized owner—behind.

Y/N walked briskly, tugging Lady’s leash gently as her dog trotted beside her, still eager to sniff every tree and bush they passed. She was still fuming about what had just happened at the dog park.

Really? Of all the days… Y/N shook her head in disbelief, recalling the smug look on that guy’s face when he laughed about the situation.

She had come to Madrid with her father only a few months ago, leaving behind her life in Philadelphia. Her dad had accepted a huge opportunity to be one of the first Black trainers for Real Madrid, an achievement that still filled her with pride despite her general indifference toward soccer. He had been a trainer for the Philadelphia Union before being approached by Real Madrid, but soccer had always been his passion. He’d been a semi-professional player back in the day, with dreams of going pro until an injury cut his career short. That’s when he decided to shift gears, dedicating his life to training and mentoring others. He had always talked about how the sport was slowly gaining more Black players, and he wanted to be a part of that change—especially in Europe, where racism was still rampant in the game.

For her father, it was about more than just soccer. It was about creating space for Black athletes and helping all players, but especially those who faced discrimination, to excel both mentally and physically. He had always been that way—passionate about making an impact, about being a positive figure for young Black athletes. And now, here they were in Madrid, living a completely different life.

Normally, their dog walker would’ve been the one dealing with Lady’s trips to the park. But since Y/N’s school schedule had a break this week, she’d wanted to take on more responsibilities at home, maybe give her dad and brothers a break. Plus, she figured it’d be good to spend time with Lady—though today, she regretted that decision a little.

Lady, a two-year-old Malinois was oblivious to the drama that had unfolded just moments ago. Y/N still couldn’t believe that dog had the audacity to pull that stunt.

She’s just a baby! Y/N thought to herself, but the memory of the man laughing about it only irritated her more.

When she and Lady finally made it home, Y/N pushed open the front door and was immediately greeted by the smell of coffee and the sound of her dad rummaging through his work bag. "Hey, Dad," she called out, unclipping Lady’s leash and watching as her dog immediately padded over to her water bowl.

Her father, Shawn Sr., looked up from where he stood at the kitchen counter, packing his bag for another long day of work at the Real Madrid training facility. He was dressed in his usual gear—team tracksuit and sneakers, his clipboard tucked under his arm.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was the park?" he asked with a smile, though the tiredness in his eyes was hard to miss.

Y/N rolled her eyes, throwing herself down onto the couch with an exaggerated huff. "It was a disaster. Some other Malinois dog was humping Lady. In front of everyone!"

Her dad chuckled, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Oh, you mean Ocho? Yeah, I’ve been told about him. Isn’t that Lady’s little boyfriend?"

Y/N’s jaw dropped. "Dad! He’s not her boyfriend! Lady doesn’t need a boyfriend—she’s a baby!"

Her father raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "She’s two years old, Y/N. That’s not exactly a baby in dog years."

Y/N crossed her arms. "Still. She doesn’t need to be fraternizing with that dog. He’s a menace." She glanced over at Lady, who was now sprawled out on the cool tile floor, perfectly content after her adventure. Y/N sighed. "I just can’t believe it."

Before her dad could respond, they heard footsteps thudding down the stairs. Her twin brother, Shawn Jr. (SJ for short), appeared at the bottom, still in his sweatpants and hoodie, his hair still wrapped in his durag. Their dad’s expression shifted from amusement to mild irritation.

"Really, SJ? You’re not dressed yet?" their dad asked, hands on his hips. "I thought you were coming with me to the facility today."

SJ shrugged, flopping down into one of the armchairs. "Yeah, I decided I’ll pass. Gonna stay here and hang out with Sutton." Sutton, their eleven-year-old brother, was upstairs playing video games, probably lost in his own little world.

Their dad sighed, clearly disappointed. "SJ, this is an opportunity for you to learn. You’re studying to be a physical therapist, and getting experience at the facility could be good for you."

SJ just shrugged again, barely lifting his eyes from his phone. "Yeah, I know, but I’m not feeling it today. Sutton needs a babysitter anyway."

Y/N watched the interaction, sensing the underlying tension between her dad and her brother. SJ had always been a bit… lazy, even when it came to his studies. Their dad tried not to push too hard, but it was clear he wished SJ showed more enthusiasm—especially about opportunities like this.

Before things could get too tense, her dad turned to her, a thoughtful look on his face. "You know, Y/N, you could always come with me instead. It could be a nice daddy-daughter day. You’re always so busy with school, and we haven’t spent much time together."

Y/N groaned, her head sinking back into the couch cushions. "Dad, no. I have so much work to do." She thought about the mountain of assignments waiting for her—finishing up her senior year at an American university in Madrid was no joke, especially since she was majoring in accounting.

Her dad gave her a knowing smile. "Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, you can take a break from numbers for a bit."

Y/N hesitated, but when she saw the hopeful look on her dad’s face, she sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to be excited about it."

"That’s my girl," her dad grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Y/N dragged herself upstairs to change, grumbling the whole way. Once in her room, she swapped out her usual contacts for her glasses, then pulled on a pair of tailored black slacks and an oxford shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone and rolling up the sleeves. She slipped into her Adidas Sambas before heading back downstairs, but not before she paused in front of her mother’s picture on the wall.

Her mom had passed away from breast cancer a year ago, and not a day went by that Y/N didn’t think about her. She kissed her first two fingers and gently placed them on the photograph. "Have a great day, Mom," she whispered before turning and making her way back to the living room.

Her dad was waiting for her by the door, his smile warm as she approached. "Ready?"

Y/N sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

And with that, they headed out the door, ready to spend the day together.

Aurélien had been off his game all morning. His mind kept wandering back to that girl from the park. Her. She wasn’t just a pretty girl—she was stunning. Her curves were impossible to miss, and he remembered how her leggings clung to her hips and thick thighs. She had an effortless, natural beauty about her that contrasted with her fiery attitude. And that scowl she gave him? Yeah, that was stuck in his mind too, more than he’d like to admit.

Her American accent was a dead giveaway, which wasn’t shocking to him since Madrid had been attracting more expats lately. He wished their first encounter had been on better terms, though. She was fine—no, real fine. Sexy even, scowl or not. If they hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe he could have gotten her number, but instead, all he got was her icy glare.

As they finished their drills for Sunday training, Aurélien, Jude, and Camavinga headed toward the physical therapy room to cool down. The upcoming game was on everyone’s mind, but their new head physio, Shawn, always made their cool-down sessions easygoing. He was one of the first Black trainers at Real Madrid, a rarity Aurélien appreciated, and it was clear from the start that he was sharp. He also knew how to make the room feel comfortable and familiar. Aurélien loved seeing another Black face in a high position—it gave him a sense of belonging, especially as soccer continued to fight its battles with racism.

As they entered, Shawn was busy stretching out Vini Jr.’s muscles while Tupac’s “Keep Ya Head Up” played softly in the background. Classic Shawn. The guys gave him elbow bumps as they settled onto their respective tables.

Jude stretched out with a sigh. "Auré, you think Bronny’s really gonna get minutes with the Lakers?"

"Man, he’s LeBron’s son, you already know they’ll make room for him," Camavinga chimed in, earning a laugh from everyone.

"Listen," Shawn interjected, his Philly accent sneaking in with a slight drawl. "Bronny coming in is gonna change the dynamics. Big time. I’m telling y’all, you better watch out. Bronny gonna be doing numbers, no cap."

"Man, I love your slang, Shawn," Jude said, shaking his head with a grin. "You gotta teach me more. Is it all the same as ours?"

Shawn chuckled, switching from Vini to Camavinga’s table. "Y’all got your own thing, but trust me, Philly slang is a whole different vibe. But hey, y’all ever had a real Philly cheesesteak? I might have to invite y’all over for dinner sometime. Get a real taste of home."

Camavinga perked up, curious. "What’s a Philly cheesesteak?"

"Bruh," Shawn said, shaking his head. "You missing out, but I got you, Cama. We’ll fix that." Shawn added with a laugh, giving Camavinga a nod before the door to the therapy room opened.

Aurélien’s heart skipped when he saw her walk in, carrying a bag of supplies in her arms. Her eyes immediately found Shawn.

"I didn’t know which ones to get, Daddy," she said, and Shawn waved her off with a smile.

"It’s all good, babygirl. Thank you." He turned to the guys, gesturing towards her. "Fellas, this is my daughter, Y/N."

Aurélien’s jaw almost hit the floor. Of course, she was Shawn’s daughter.

"This is Jude, Camavinga, Aurélien, and you know Vini," Shawn introduced her with pride, but when Y/N’s gaze landed on Aurélien, her expression changed.

"You!" she snapped, her scowl from earlier making an immediate return.

Aurélien rolled his eyes, leaning back on his table. "Don’t be dramatic," he said, trying to downplay the tension.

Y/N pointed at him accusingly. "That’s the dog owner from the park, Daddy! The one with the horny dog!"

Shawn blinked, then laughed, completely unbothered. "Oh wow, that’s what’s up. I didn’t know we lived so close to each other, Aurélien."

Y/N stared at her father in disbelief. "Wait, what? Daddy, his dog was humping Lady!"

Shawn shrugged casually. "Dogs are dogs, babygirl."

Grumbling under her breath, Y/N shot Aurélien one last look of disdain before she turned and stalked out of the room. The guys all burst into laughter.

"Sorry ‘bout that, y’all," Shawn said, shaking his head. "She just treats that dog like it’s her baby."

Aurélien sighed, trying to ignore the fact that the same girl who’d been cursing him out earlier was now his physio’s daughter. What were the odds?

"I didn’t know you had a daughter, Shawn," Jude said, giving him a curious glance.

"Yeah, don’t get any ideas, Bellingham," Shawn shot back with a knowing look. "Off limits."

Jude held up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry"

Shawn moved over to Aurélien next, starting to stretch him out. Aurélien couldn’t help but replay the whole thing in his head. Y/N despised him, no question about it, but damn—she was still fine as hell.

And now that Shawn had immediately shut down any possible thoughts about her? Yeah, that only made things more complicated.

Even if Aurélien had wanted to pursue her, he knew now he was pretty much screwed.

Merde.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchoameni x black reader #aurelien tchouameni x you #aurelien tchouameni x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x black reader #real madrid fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year ago

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The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.”

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

“It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again. Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in.

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke.

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

#the last of these stories I swear #turning 30 #short story #horror #fiction #writing #creative writing #writeblr #getting rid of the archive just in case #idk what to tell you #art #magical realism

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y2kmcblingirliee · 7 months ago

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“I guess Y/N likes her kisses down low..”

cw: dom!kate kinda mean!Kate Oral(reader receiving), Fingering (reader receiving), degradation, praise kink ~ sub!reader

pairings ~ Kate Martin x Black Fem reader

Y/N was alone in her & Kate’s shared home. Just waiting for her girlfriend to come back from basketball practice. Y/N was braiding her hair, while wearing a cutsie little outfit & giving herself some bohemian braids. She was up to her last few. She finally finished which felt like hours. In her excitement, she sent Kate a cute photo of herself. Y/N started to watch YouTube. Until she heard her phone ring. So of course she checked it. The name was “baby 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏼” Kate messaged said “Baby, you look so good. Why are you trying to tease me while I’m at practice babe?” So of course Y/N messaged back saying “Baby, I just miss you.” Kate texted back quickly saying “baby I’ll be home in a few. I love you.” I messaged back saying “Okay baby I love you.” 45 mins pass by and I heard the door open. I go to the door and jump on Kate holding on her shoulders & Her holding me by my ass. Y/N starts to kiss from Kate’s jaw down to her neck. Kate starts to put her hand in-between Y/N’s legs. Kate says “omg.. Y/N, what’s got you this wet?” & She starts eyeing Y/N up & down while biting her lip. Y/N starts to hide her face in Kate’s neck, as Kate continues to carry her and puts her on the bed. Kate starts to take Y/N’s top off while putting her hand under her skirt. Y/N starts to moan as Kate starts to put her hand & rub figure 8s on her clit. As she kisses her. Y/N starts to whimper & say “Baby, let me kiss you please.” & Kate slaps her across the face & chokes her. As Kate has her hand around Y/N’s throat. She starts to go down & lift up Y/N’s skirt while kissing on her thighs. Kate let’s go of Y/N’s neck to pull down her underwear. Y/N says with tears filling her eyes “Baby, why are you being so mean to me.” Kate starts to flick her tongue around her clit to tease her even more. Y/N starts to try to move away from her tongue by trying to lift up with her elbows. Kate brings her hands & grabs Y/N’s thighs & continues to eat Y/N out. Y/N starts to feel like she’s about to come. Kate senses that so she speeds up her movements & adds her fingers. Y/N nuts in Kate’s mouth & on her fingers. Kate takes her fingers out & puts it in Y/N’s mouth. Kate starts to make out with Y/N while sliding her hand up & down her waist. Kate starts to sit up & puts Y/N on her lap. Kate starts to take off her clothes leaving her in her sports bra & underwear. Kate starts to kiss on Y/N’s neck again while putting her fingers inside Y/N again. While with the opposite hand slapping her ass. Y/N says “mm-m Kate it’s to-too much.” Kate slaps her across the face again. & Kate says “Well if you think it’s too much then start begging me to stop then.” Kate continues her finger movements if not even faster. Y/N says “mommy, please stop it hurts.” while crying. Kate kisses her tears away & gets close to her ear & says “baby what did you just say?” stopping her hand motions. Y/N repeats & says “mommy, please stop it’s too much.” & Kate starts to kiss her while Y/N comes on her fingers a 2nd time. Kate licks her fingers off & lifts Y/N off her lap. Getting up to kiss Y/N on the forehead. & gets a towel & some water to clean Y/N up. & asks her if she’s okay which Y/N responds with yes. Kate starts a bath for Y/N & they both get in the bath, talking about each others day. & Y/N massaging Kate’s shoulders . Kate whimpering a little at the relief. Y/N starts to kiss on Kate’s neck. Kate turns off the bath and drys the both of them off. Kate carries Y/N to the bed & puts Y/N in her IOWA hoodie. While Kate kisses on Y/N till she falls asleep. Kate eventually falls asleep right with Y/N.

this is my first ever smut / story I hope you guys enjoy!!

#kate martin smut #kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate Martin x black reader #Kate Martin x fem reader #iowa wbb #hawkeye

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withdrco · 29 days ago

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Halloween chapter - Go All The Way

I’m going to do a special Halloween chapter for Go All The Way. So here are the costumes that I imagined 🤔 well it’s done quickly ofc BUT do as you want if you want to use these examples of costume to make fanart, videos etc. Let’s go!

Sirius as a vampire and Remus as a werewolf simply makes sense for all those who know

Likeafunerall credit fanart

James as a mummy because I’m sure I love to be shirtless (idk why jajdnxnd) & Lily as a witch because "I know my girlfriend is a witch"

Likeafunerall credit fanart

Lorelei as a zombie with this exact dress (yeah it’s Hannah Montana) & Mary as a sexy devil

Likeafunerall credit fanart

Regulus as a black cat because he’s cute and I think it’s a good costume for someone who doesn’t really like to party doesn’t really want to stand out from the crowd, but also who does for trans people & Evan and Barty as a reaper who don’t take their heads at all and simply decide to do it as simple as possible

Caspervi & sophietill credit fanart

Dorcas as a fairy I think that in general she really has a little bohemian, fairy, fortune teller style. I don’t know if you know what I mean & Marlene as a soccer/football player because she annoys men and she doesn’t see why she won’t be able to put something that is comfy

Sophietill & Likeafunerall credit fanart

I took likeafunerall, sophietill and caspervi ’s fanart as an example for faces, because that’s exactly how I imagine them!! Amazing work 🥹

#marauders #Halloween #costume #costume ideas #Halloween with the marauders #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #james potter #lily evans #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #marauders fanfiction

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mariaofdoranelle · 9 months ago

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Catastrophic Blues

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)

I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol

Warnings: none?

Words: 2,2k

The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.

Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.

It was fine. She was fine.

It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.

But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.

How considerate of him.

But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.

Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?

The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.

A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.

“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.

Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”

He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”

Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”

He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”

Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.

Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.

It’s not like she cared, anyway.

Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone—including the lovebirds.

Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.

She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.

She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--

"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."

Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.

Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."

Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.

He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.

But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.

This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.

No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.

Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.

“…Right, Ace?”

Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”

“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”

Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.

And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.

The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.

Aelin wished she had stayed home.

But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.

Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.

Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.

Just like he used to do with her.

Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.

She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Breathe in.

She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.

Breathe out.

She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.

Breathe in.

She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.

Breathe out.

Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.

She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.

The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.

"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."

Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."

He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."

"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."

Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.

"Not a chance. Spill."

He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.

"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."

Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"

He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"

Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.

A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”

“You did not!”

“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”

“Is this a threat?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Obviously.”

“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”

“No drama, you said?”

“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”

“I sense drama.”

“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”

“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”

Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.

They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.

Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”

“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?

He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”

“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“

“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.

Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.

She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.

Aelin dug her own grave.

Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”

“He did not.”

“He did. And you know why.”

“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.

Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.

Her selfishness only went so far.

Read part 2 here

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#rowaelin #throne of glass #oneshot #sjmromanceweek2024 #sjmromanceweek #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

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kk095 · 10 months ago

Text

Awake

Alice was 27 years old, standing at 5’4 with a slimmer build. She had shorter, dark brown hair with bangs that came just above her shoulders, and brown eyes that were normally behind a pair of glasses. Alice was the cute, shy, artsy, eccentric type, who was beautiful in a unique sort of way. She enjoyed and partook in pretty much any creative medium, and lived a more unconventional, bohemian type of lifestyle. Since Alice wasn’t quite like most girls, it isn’t a stretch of the imagination to believe that her time in our emergency department was quite unusual and memorable.

It all started last night. Alice was sitting on the trauma room table in the upright position, stripped down to just her bra and underwear. She had EKG electrodes stuck all over her chest, IV lines in both arms, and a nasal cannula in. She was breathing rapidly, taking deep, dramatic breaths, almost gasping at times. She had one hand on her chest, and a visibly pained, uncomfortable look was on her face. Alice squirmed around somewhat on the table, clearly distressed from the onslaught of symptoms that developed seemingly out of nowhere for her. She experienced shortness of breath, chest pains, heart palpitations, indigestion, and pain in her back between the shoulder blades. The heart monitors chirped and beeped loudly, displaying abnormal vital signs. Alice’s heart rate was in the 150s, her blood pressure was 80/45, and her oxygen saturation was surprisingly normal considering her most glaring, obvious symptom was shortness of breath.

“hi, I’m Dr Lindsay. What brings you to our emergency department tonight?” Dr Lindsay asks in a calm tone, entering the trauma room and approaching the table where Alice sat. Alice was wide eyed, trying everything she could to fight whatever was going on inside her body. She looked over at Dr Lindsay, and attempted to reply. “my… my…chest…” Alice told Dr Lindsay in a breathy, winded tone. “your chest hurts?” Lindsay asked, trying to confirm. Alice nodded. “it… it really hurts…” Alice said weakly. “I feel… I feel like….” Alice continued, but paused, feeling a bit lightheaded and dizzy. “you feel like what sweetie?” Dr Lindsay asked, wondering where she was trying to go with that statement. “like I’m going to die…” Alice replied, looking Lindsay right in the eye. “well, myself and our ER team are here to try our best and make sure that doesn’t happen, ok?” Lindsay said to Alice, to which she nodded in acknowledgement. “so can I ask a couple questions?” Dr Lindsay asks, to which Alice nods. “good! Let’s start off with an easy one. Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asks. “Alice…” she replies in a labored, weakened voice. “anna? That’s my girlfriend’s name.” Lindsay said. Alice was shaking her head no. “AHN. YUH.” Alice cleared up for Lindsay, still having a tough time breathing, let alone talking. “oh, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding! Alice. It’s nice to meet you! Just wish it wasn’t here in the ER of course. Anyways, how about I ask some other questions?” Lindsay continued, Alice nodding in response. “ok, great. So do you have a history of asthma, breathing problems, or lung problems?” Dr Lindsay asked. Alice shook her head, indicating she did not. “alright, good. What about any heart problems?” Lindsay asked. Again, Alice shook her head to tell the Dr no. “ok ok. What about blood clots?” asked Lindsay. Alice couldn’t muster up enough power to get the words out, but she mouthed “no” to Lindsay. The questions didn’t seem to get any tangible info the ER team could use. Lindsay asked more questions such as: “any medications?” “any allergies?” “any use of illegal drugs?” “any chance you’re pregnant?”. Even though Dr Lindsay didn’t get any helpful answers, she ordered the nurses to draw labs to be sent off to the lab for analysis. The tests she ordered were a CBC, BMP, toxicology screening, HCG, d-dimer, and a cardiac enzyme test. In the meantime, there was only so much that could be done. Nurses Heather, Lin, and Nancy stuck around to push meds to treat symptoms and keep an eye on the monitors to make sure there weren’t any changes to Alice’s vital signs.

A little while went by without any major changes or updates one way or the other. But then out of nowhere, things went completely sideways. Alice started gasping, her breaths becoming more shallow. Her eyes started to roll back, and she struggled to remain conscious. “Alice? Stay with us sweetie!” nurse Nancy shouted, doing a firm sternal run on Alice. The patient groaned in response, drifting in and out of consciousness. “I’m getting Dr Lindsay back in here.” Lin said, exiting the room with a pep in her step. The heart monitors showed more worrisome vital signs, showing that Alice’s heart rate was in the 180s, and her blood pressure was taking a nosedive. “P…please…” Alice uttered weakly to nurse Nancy and nurse heather. “d-don’t let me die…” Alice continued, having to put in maximum effort to get her words out. “it’s gonna be ok sweetie, we’re gonna take care of you.” Nurse Nancy told Alice in a calm, soothing, reassuring tone.

It didn’t take long for Dr Lindsay and nurse Lin to come back into the room. Everyone gave Dr Lindsay the update on what was taking place, and also explained that the labs hadn’t come back yet. While discussing what the next move would be, Alice’s eyes rolled back, and let out a calm exhale. Her tense, squirming body fell limp. Her rapidly rising and falling chest was completely motionless. “Alice? Alice?!” nurse heather asked anxiously, doing a sternal run that received no reaction from Alice. Nancy took a carotid pulse, placing 2 fingers on Alice’s neck. “no pulse Linds.” Nancy called out, shaking her head. Lindsay paused and looked up at the monitors. “pulseless v-tach. Lower the bed and start CPR! Get her intubated, then we’ll shock!” Lindsay barked, taking charge of the hectic situation that was developing.

The bed was lowered, and Alice’s bra was snipped off, allowing her perky b-cup tits with pierced nipples to spill out. Nurses Heather placed the heel of her hand on the middle of Alice’s chest, beginning to push down hard and fast repeatedly. At the head of the bed, nurse Nancy had a laryngoscope and 7.0 ET tube, which she carefully navigated into the young lady’s airway, securing it in place with a blue tube holder once she confirmed the correct placement. Lin got the defibs and meds from the crash cart set up for the doctor. But post intubation, a weird development occurred. Alice’s eyes opened slowly, then blinked a few times. Her eyes scanned the room, looking at the chaos unfold around her. She felt something on her chest and looked down, seeing Heather performing chest compressions. Alice moaned, horrified at this sight. “Huh?” Heather uttered, thinking she saw Alice blink and look around the room. “hey, let’s pulse check. I think I saw her blink.” Heather announced. “ok ok. Hold CPR.” Lindsay nodded in approval. CPR was halted, and Alice’s body went completely limp, her eyes wide open, completely glazed over and devoid of life. “no pulse, still v-tach on the monitors.” Nancy replied, taking a carotid pulse, also ambu bagging. “alright, let’s shock her. Charging paddles to 200. Everyone…CLEAR!” Lindsay ordered, readying the defibs paddles, pressing them up against Alice’s bare chest, sending the first shock of the night into her body. Alice grunted, her body tensing up and flopping on the table in response. The first shock didn’t eliminate v-tach, so the paddles were gelled, charged to 250 joules, and the next shock was delivered. KA-THUNK! Alice’s chest shot up, and her back arched, her eyes remaining wide open, staring helplessly above. “still nothing, resume CPR.” Ordered Dr Lindsay.

“…5…6…7…8…” heather counted out under her breath, getting the ball rolling on the next cycle of compressions. “MMMPH!!!” Alice tried to yell, one of her hands reaching towards her mouth to pull the tube out. Everyone was taken aback. “what the?!” nurse Lin said, not sure what to think of what she was looking at. “Calm down sweetie!” nurse Nancy told Alice, gently nudging her hand away from the breathing tube. “hold compressions!” Lindsay shouted. Heather promptly stopped CPR. And just like that, Alice’s muffled moans and shrieks stopped, her body falling limp again, the same deadly rhythm present on the monitor, along with no pulse. “let’s shock again. Charging to 300!” Lindsay shouted out. The paddles were gelled, charged, and pressed back up, another shock being delivered. Alice’s body was effortlessly thrown around on the table, the electricity running through her body in an instant. “damn it, she’s in v-fib now. Going again at 360. Everyone…CLEAR!” Lindsay commanded, shocking the patient again. Alice’s toes scrunched at the far end of the bed, showing off the matte black nail polish on her toes and the soft, delicate, velvety wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 7 feet. This shock failed to restore a heartbeat, so Lindsay delivered another shock immediately afterwards. “MMMMMPH!!!” Alice yelled, feeling every last bit of that shock. “still no pulse, resume compressions.” Lindsay ordered, placing the defbs back on the crash cart. Heather restarted CPR, and it didn’t take long for Alice to realize. Alice blinked a few times, her eyes scanning the room, watching the team work on her. She moaned and groaned, her eyes becoming teary. Alice’s eyes locked with Lindsay’s. The doctor was taken aback. “can you understand me?...” Lindsay asked a bit nervously. Alice held eye contact and nodded “yes”. Alice then reached out with one hand, holding onto Lindsay’s hand for dear life. “hmmmph….” Alice tried to say something to Lindsay. “we’re gonna do everything we can for you, ok?” Lindsay replied, holding the young lady’s hand. Alice nodded, still holding Lindsay’s hand and maintaining eye contact. Nancy gently stroked Alice’s hair. “it’s gonna be ok sweetie…you’re doing great.” Nancy said in a calm, reassuring voice.

After a few cycles of chest compressions and a dose of epinephrine and atropine, Dr Lindsay felt it was time to shock again. Compressions were held, and the right grip Alice had on Lindsay’s hand loosened, and Alice became unconscious once again. The paddles were charged to 360 joules, and she was defibbed again. THUNK! Alice’s torso bounced around on the table, her pretty brown eyes wide open. No change was noted, so Alice was defibbed again at 360 joules. Her shoulders shrugged and her body tensed up, before relaxing a split second later. Alice received another shock, but unfortunately she deteriorated into PEA, so CPR was resumed.

Heather had restarted chest compressions, and medications were injected into the IV line. Alice regained consciousness almost immediately after CPR resumed. Alice moaned, her arms flailed, freaking out at the sight of her own cardiac arrest. “stay still for us!” Lin stepped in, gently restraining Alice’s arms. Alice’s screams were muffled from the breathing tube, but the absolute terror she was experiencing was all over her face. Alice looked down, seeing Heather do CPR. Alice saw her chest cave in, her tits bounce around, and her belly ripple out. “mmmm!!!” Alice moaned, tears beginning to stream down her face. “it’s on sweetie…” Nancy told Alice, gently stroking her hair again. Alice cried hysterically, watching her chest get pumped violently.

Several minutes went by with no changes, and another dose of meds were pushed into the IV line. The tension was absolutely palpable in the room. The team had seen everything, but never this. “linds… I have a question…” heather asked, still pumping away vigorously. “go for it Heather.” Replied Lindsay. “with all due respect, what the hell is going on? She’s ya know… technically dead, but she’s looking right at me blinking…” heather asked, continuing CPR, Alice making eye contact, clearly listening to the conversation. “well, it’s something I only read about…” Lindsay said to heather. There was an awkward pause in the room, Alice’s eyes looking back and forth between Lindsay and heather, wanting to know the answer herself. “go on?...” heather asked in response, not satisfied with Lindsay’s incomplete answer. “I read a case report in Denmark or somewhere like that where a guy went into cardiac arrest and regained consciousness mid code. They said it was because the chest compressions created good enough perfusion and blood flow to the brain to restore consciousness.” Explained Dr Lindsay. “so how’d the guy in Denmark do? Did he make it?” heather asked, still going to town on Alice’s chest. There was pause. Lindsay sighed. “no. I think the guy died…” Lindsay reluctantly said. Alice’s eyes widened after hearing that, a look of fear all over her face. “it’s ok Alice! We’re gonna do everything we can for you!” Lindsay replied in a nervous, but somewhat reassuring tone.

The code continued with no progress whatsoever. Alice’s rhythm had deteriorated from PEA to agonal over the next little bit. She was still receiving chest compressions and wide awake during them. She had calmed down a bit, her crying stopped. She was holding Lindsay’s hand tightly, her eyes scanning around the room. Heather was absolutely gassed from all the CPR she performed, so she swapped with nurse Lin, hoping she had the magic touch. There wasn’t really a pause during the swap, and Alice never lost consciousness. “hmmp…” Alice tried to say something, looking up at Lin starting CPR. “it’s ok, Heather is just tired. Normally we switch who does CPR every now and then in situations like this. This is completely normal.” Lindsay explained, holding Alice’s hand, trying to keep her calm. Heather stood off to the side taking a breather. “man… they don’t teach you this shit in nursing school…” Heather said under her breath, referencing the events of Alice’s code up to that point.

A lot more time had went by, and Alice’s rhythm had deteriorated from agonal to asystole. Nonetheless, Alice stayed conscious the entire time. “meds in.” Heather called out, injecting another dose of epinephrine and atropine. “that’s the last dose of meds we can use. She’s maxed out on meds…” Lindsay explained. “what do we do?!” Lin asked, still doing CPR, Alice listening and watching. “let’s see if the meds kick in over the next little bit and go from there.” Lindsay replied, hoping and praying that these meds got a shockable rhythm back. But each minute ticked by, one more tense and anxious than the previous, asystole still on the monitors. The room was eerily quiet, Lin continuing chest compressions. Time continued to tick by with no change, and the team knew deep down they’ve done all they could, but there was a dilemma on what to do since Alice was still clearly conscious. Lindsay decided to break the silence. “Alice?” Lindsay asked. Alice looked over at Lindsay, making eye contact, her head bobbing gently from the force of the chest compressions she was receiving. “Alice… we’ve done everything we could for you. We’ve shocked your heart, given you the maximum amount of medications possible, and did CPR for almost 40 minutes, and your heart still isn’t beating. Unfortunately, there’s nothing more we can do…” Lindsay explained. Alice was terrified, beginning to cry and moan, shaking her head “NO!!!” at Dr Lindsay. “I know… I know…” Lindsay replied, trying to sympathize. “we’ll stop whenever you’re ready, ok?” Lindsay said, trying to offer some sort of compromise in the horrible situation. Alice cried hysterically, shaking her head passionately indicating “No!”.

Alice tried to buy herself as much time as possible, avoiding all eye contact with the members of the ER team. Alice cried, looking around the room trying to process the fact that she was experiencing her last moments. A teary eyed Alice regained some semblance of composure after several minutes, reestablishing eye contact with Dr Lindsay. Alice gently placed her hands on top of nurse Lin’s, nodding at Lindsay, indicating it was ok to stop CPR. Nurse Lin held CPR, and the monitors immediately went flat. Alice’s eyes glazed over completely, but still looked right into Lindsay’s. Nurse Nancy detached the ambu bag and turned off the heart monitors. Lindsay sighed. “time of death, 8:21pm.” Lindsay announced, stunned from the events she just witnessed. The EKG electrodes were then disconnected, and the defib gel was wiped off of Alice’s bruised, battered chest. The IV lines were taken out, and her body was covered up, hiding the haunting gaze on her face. A toe tag was filled out and placed on the big toe of her left foot. The tag dangled against Alice’s cute, wrinkly soles. Alice was a one in a million, unique girl, and unfortunately, she died an equally unique death in our emergency department.

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armpirate · 4 months ago

Text

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 27

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy.

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 14 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

The incense smell only had him shaking his legs even faster, while he tried to avoid lying his eyes on any of the mystical objects that were spread all over the room.

Sageous was written on one of the plates hanging next to the bohemian rags hanging next to the window, which was covered with a dark lilac curtain. Was that her name? After so many months visiting her, it was the first time he was aware of the name she used to advertise herself to her public.

—Let me guess —the old lady started, taking the seat in front of him while dragging the cards over the small rounded table—: another round to confirm you're free like a bird in a cage?

—Actually... —he opposed, shyly looking down— My questions are a bit different this time. There's this girl... and I think I messed things up with her.

For the first time since he started those weekly visits, Jungkook was asking about someone else that wasn't himself, looking for an answer that gave out he was indeed leaving that curse behind because of Y/n.

—Shuffle —the lady signaled him to do, changing her tired expression from a serious one just by hearing the way that session started—. Do not cross legs, do not cross arms, and focus your energy on what worries you.

His fingers moved skillfully over the table, picking up every card spread to pile them up on his right hand while he mixed them with his other hand.

—What I have with her is illogical. She isn't even my type —he started—. She's a freak who always needs to get things done her way. She's impulsive and irrational, and determined and confident. She knows what she wants, and she gets so excited when she succeeds —he realized he started smiling a bit too wide when the cold breeze hit his lower teeth, going back to serious—. We are incompatible. I'm sure.

—What are you here for, then? —Sageous tried to get him to explain.

With a playful grin, she motioned him to give her back the cards. Her thin fingers started shuffling those same cards at the same time her eyes closed, shuffling skillfully while she took in all the energy he allowed to share.

—I sense she has a really powerful aura, doesn't she? That woman ain't no joke —she chuckled—. The type of person that doesn't bow down to anyone, especially you —one of her eyes opened, giving Jungkook a funny look—. That's what got you so hooked, huh? She doesn't come to you when you want to, and she doesn't stay when you're begging her. Must be odd for you.

—I never begged her anything —he scoffed, looking away.

—And maybe that's the reason why you're here asking about her and your non-existent relationship —she mocked him, closing her eye back again—. The fool —she dramatically announced when she flipped over the first card.

—I'm starting to think you're trying to tell me something...

—Not me, your guides —she corrected him—. Either way, The Fool represents new beginnings and taking a leap of faith. Very fitting for your situation, no?

Jungkook held back from making the smallest move, thinking it was better to react once everything was set and done.

—The Lovers —she hummed, flipping another card.

As if he wasn't an expert on all the meanings behind those cards, Jungkook smirked, fooling himself with relief at the thought of that meaning being something positive.

—Hold your horses, lover boy —she teased him, bursting every sight of hope—. In your context, it means your relationship with this girl will become a turning point in your life. Hmm... tough decisions to be made, and difficult risks to be taken. It'll be scary, but you'll grow a lot if you follow your intuition. Your real one, that one deep inside your brain being held hostage by that little evil one —she let out two other cards to clarify that first one—. With the magician and the knight of pentacles, something you're looking forward to will be coming your way.

His smile immediately infected her, making her smile shortly while shaking her head, going for another card that could clear up all those assumptions that had Jungkook almost jumping on his seat.

Until the tower showed up.

That hum she let out when the fourth card fell over the deck had Jungkook looking over at the table with panic.

—What?

—I see there will be a good connection with this girl. I'm feeling there are more connections to her other than just that attraction.

—Like what? Is it about the curse?

—It could be —she frowned—. I don't know. I see something dark and upsetting, so it could be —Sageous went back to her explanation—. You like her, and she likes you, but there are decisions to be made for it to work out. You'll need to sacrifice some things and proof you aren't playing when it comes to her. Oh, boy, she really knows what she wants —she scoffed—. You said you argued, right?

—I just said that I messed things up.

—Uh-hum. I see there will be a bridge that will bring you closer again. But there's an event, there's something here —she pointed at the Tower card—. It's destructive. I don't know how serious it'll be, but it'll make the two of you rethink a lot of things.

—Can you pull another card?

Although he regretted that question when the Death card covered the ones that had him smiling like a fool.

—Something will need to end for something new to begin —she shrugged—. It could mean you'll have to cut some habits, or change some manners.

—Or it could mean things with Y/n will end before they even start... Could this also be related to the curse?

—It could be. Your energy must be chaotic for the cards to be mixing things about the curse and your relationship with this girl though.

It was indeed chaotic.

—Fate isn't set in stone —she said, dropping her cards back on the table—. This is your path with the decisions you've made until now, but any small change from now till the moment it happens can change a lot of things —her words tried to sound optimistic—. Not because you've been avoiding love until now, it means you will keep doing it. Take this as a reality check, and start working on yourself so next time you come you receive nothing but good news.

—So should I try to reach out to her? Yeah?

—An apology is always a good start —she shrugged.

Jungkook stood, with a breaded smile that hid how upset he actually felt over those news, heading to the door with mixed feelings.

—And don't forget to pay on your way out! —she warned him as he crossed the corridor—Mystical advice doesn't come free, you know!

While giggling, he dropped the money of the session inside the payment jar next to her door, exiting her house with a subtle bow and a dimpled smile.

It was obvious he needed to do something to get Y/n back -it wasn't like she was ever with him, but it was his way of explaining a difficult situation he didn't quite understand himself. He needed something that would excite her so much that she'd be willing to listen to him -not apologize, because he knew Y/n was way too hard to reach to earn her with just a random thing.

He needed something, but what?

And while he played with the chain on his neck, he saw it crystal clear. The silver necklace fell over his black t-shirt while he stopped on his tracks, lips parting in surprise at how fast his brain worked whenever it came to Y/n.

He was sure he wouldn't have found a solution to his problems that quickly if they hadn't been encouraged by just the image of her.

His solution was simple: a necklace that could make her feel closer to her brother, and which she was upset to see go back again as he dragged her out of the warehouse to protect her. He just needed to make some calls, pay a few visits that morning, and probably that chain would be inside an envelope on its way to its real owner.

And he knew exactly how to get it.

He didn't bother to go to the gym, he didn't bother to go back to his place, because he knew where to find the person he needed.

—Jungkook —Hashim sighed, answering his call straight away—. Hey, I know I owe you money, but...

Jungkook didn't hear any of his excuses. He had been done trying to get any cent from him after he kept coming up with one excuse after the other, indifferent towards every warning he was told. He tried to walk on his shoes, forgiving every payment in his gym until he couldn't take it any more -mainly because the rest of the trainees started getting some hints about it.

—Forget the money —he cut him off—. I need something better from you.

He was convinced he had seen that man before around his gym, and one of the few last times he was seen randomly talking to Hashim before he started his training, or later when he was about to leave.

It took him less than twenty minutes to show up to the location he was sent, chuckling while he thought there was nothing more desperate than a person that owed big money, while also being threatened with Elijah's name and the two gorillas that always did the dirty work.

The hardware store was empty when he stepped inside after parking the motorbike next to the door, eyeing over the short corridors that reached his eyes from the door.

The same man showed up, cleaning his hands with a rag while looking up at the tall man that had just stepped inside his establishment. His customer service smile dropped as soon as he squinted his eyes, recognizing Jungkook's tattoos.

—The Doberman of Busan —he greeted, dropping the old rag over the counter—. What brings you here?

—I was looking for something —he casually said, picking one of the mallets hanging on the metallic wall—. And I thought that you'd help me.

—More like you're the one who owes me an apology after your girlfriend punched me on the face —he threatened back with a calm tone.

—I bet the police would love to know about the scheme you do with the drugs under this counter.

—Hope you have proof of that.

Jungkook chuckled, holding the mallet to hit it against the wooden counter, denting through the material and causing some superficial fractures. If Hashim was useful for something, it was to get that type of information.

He was planning on breaking his teeth, one by one, until he finally gave up, but he didn't want to waste any energy and well-being on someone like Tyjon.

Two, three, four... and the proofs he was asking for were shown all over the extreme Jungkook was standing against.

—I wouldn't be acting so smartass when I know what you do, too.

—As far as I know, you have no proof of me being anywhere. While I have it as easy as making a quick call to the police and waiting here until I see your ass taken to prison —he tilted his head—. Not to mention... how would you know I'm in those fights if you didn't frequent those places either? —with a grimace, he spoke again— 'Didn't think things through, I see.

—What do you want?

—The necklace she asked you to give her yesterday. That's what I want.

Tyjon mumbled some incomprehensible words while he just handed out the necklace in his pocket, resting his hands on the edge of the counter while he felt his blood boiling with Jungkook's satisfied smirk.

Five dollars flew over the counter a few seconds later, following the mallet.

—I broke the mallet a little, and the model didn't really convince me —he twisted his lips—. Have a good day.

He only needed to send Y/n a text, and convince her to speak to clear things up, and things would be done between them.

Her pen was hysterically hitting the desk, on the spot right next to her keyboard, letting out the anxiety that rushed her brain with the unwanted thoughts that kept going through her head. The words from the previous night kept replaying, ringing in her ears as if she were just hearing them all over again while in the office.

She was angry at Jungkook, but she was even angrier at herself for letting her guard down with someone she knew she couldn't show any sign of weakness to. She was smarter than that, or so she thought. She assured herself she was able to see that man coming from miles away, reading through all his signs to get ahead of his actions before they could even cross his mind.

Yet there she was, thinking about that big mistake that man was, when she kept reiterating she'd focus on work only, while trying to find out more about those fights and their relation to her brother and his death.

After she arrived at the hotel room the previous night, she kept insisting she wouldn't let that little problem affect her. She assured herself it wouldn't be a burden to her. She was even convinced it was the excuse she needed to stick her head in her work and the investigation, yet it seemed like it was something that only worked with words that got lost in the air.

She had bigger problems to worry about, way bigger than a simple love story that she knew would take her nowhere.

Jungkook was everything that was wrong with the male species. He was childish, irresponsible, annoying, impulsive, egocentric, and a player. He was the reddest of the flags, with a huge sign that warned her to stay away.

Hell, she should've seen that outcome coming with the little she had known from him.

A huff left her lips, trying to calm herself down from the pile of negative thoughts that were making her blood boil and her body move nervously on her seat. She clicked her tongue with pain when an electric shock ran through her wrist to the tip of the fingers of her right hand, reminding her of what a bad idea it was to punch someone in the face when she had no protection in her hand.

The previous night was awful: that fight with Jungkook, she hurt her hand, she lost her brother's necklace again...

Her head moved up as if something had lit up with that thought, remembering the situation that had Jungkook getting in between and pulling her away so the problem wouldn't get any bigger.

That conversation...

—Y/n? —Jason answered, confused.

—Hey, sorry to be bothering you.

—Don't be stupid. You never bother me —he chuckled—. What's up?

—Can I ask you a question?

—Sure.

—The other day I was checking on some of Noah's old documents —she started her lie, covering up herself from everything she had been doing the past few months—, and something got my attention —after hearing his best friend's name, Jason prolonged his silence—. Did Noah have heart problems?

—Y/n...

—Did he?

—Yeah —he finally sighed—. His heart kept going weaker after each fight, and he was determined to give up that life after he paid all the bills.

—But?

—But his heart was so weak and fucked up that he needed a heart transplant. So he went back to the fights when he was offered half of what he needed to pay for all those bills, and his girlfriend...

—Wait, girlfriend?

Jason stayed a few seconds in silence again, sighing after he realized how deep he messed up when giving up information he shouldn't have.

—Y/n.

—My brother had a girlfriend no one knew about, he had a heart disease no one knew about, don't come up with that shitty tone now —she stopped him, looking around to lower her voice when she noticed a few eyes on her.

—Noah wanted to introduce her to you when he got better. He barely spent any time with you himself the last months of life because he hated what boxing did to him —he admitted—. He wanted to wait for the surgery to let you all know everything. But he didn't make it out of his last fight.

—And what about her?

—She personally asked me not to tell anyone about her, because she didn't want to make things harder for you and your mother.

—And you seriously didn't think of telling me after all this time? I don't know.

—Y/n, understand, Noah didn't want to make things difficult. And Elia knew it was going to be hard for you to accept all those secrets from Noah, so it was just better for her to go on with life.

—I'm... this is nuts... Are you justifying it?

—I'm saying I understand them, and I understand you —he quickly shut down.

The thick silence floated through their mics, when neither of them knew how to go on with the bit of information that was exposed that day.

—I need to go —Y/n finally spoke.

She didn't get to hear Jason say goodbye, because her finger hung up the call before he could even say a word.

Of course his brother was hiding more than what she thought. She should've known when she and her mother knew about the illegal fights only after they rushed to the hospital because Noah was suffering a cardiac arrest. Only for all of that to be followed with it heading the news. As usual: displaying the victim, over mentioning the cause, but never going too deep into details on who were the real responsibilities of that.

Two of her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose when she heard the notification from her phone, thinking that it was Jason insisting on speaking with her deeper into the situation when they got time.

Jungkook.

Just seeing his name made her roll her eyes, but she still clicked on the notification to read the whole thing and, who knows, maybe distract her from everything she had found out.

Jungkook: I didn't mean what I said yesterday. I know I'm an asshole, and I wouldn't speak to me if I were you. But since you're a better person than me... can we meet up?

Jungkook: Tell me where you are and I'll pick you up.

She let out a tired scoff as she read that message. That was exactly what she was thinking of not doing.

Jungkook: I have something for you. Please, let me know if you want to talk.

She was indeed going somewhere else after work. She needed to free her mind from all the worries and the overload of thoughts she was going through, but it wasn't going to be Jungkook the one helping her with that.

Nope.

The only things that'd help her were four Gintonics, three shots of Tequila, and seeing Donna losing it after she showed up at Alma's bachelorette party after she told them she wouldn't attend.

That was the way she'd cope with all of her problems that night.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

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anitalenia · 1 year ago

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━━━ .°˖✧ opposites attract ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑤𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. one of my favs.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group seven ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group eight ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group nine ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group ten ໒꒱

minimalistic x bohemian | dips fries in ketchup x drenches fries in ketchup | loves to dance x what’s a rhythm? | life of the party x hates attention | toilet paper facing you x toilet paper facing away from you

꒰ঌ group eleven ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group twelve ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group thirteen ໒꒱

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

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nohoperadio · 3 months ago

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My A level poetry teacher was a memorably obnoxious man who had very obviously based his teaching persona on Robin Williams's character in Dead Poets Society (I suspected this from the very beginning and I felt vindicated when he gushed about the film to us one day). He liked giving impassioned histrionic speeches about the importance of free original thought and creative passion and similar topics. This didn't work out the way it does in Dead Poets Society, both because he wasn't nearly as charismatic or interesting as he thought he was and also because most of the class didn't actually care about poetry that much. I remember one of his inspiring speeches collapsing due to no one in class being responsive enough to the energy he was trying to convey, and it turned into a weird sad tirade about how none of us would ever be geniuses because we're too conformist. This class was pretty embarrassing to be a part of a lot of the time.

Sometimes people who didn't want to do any work would exploit his readiness to go into long digressions when asked questions about whatever random shit, thus eating up class time. I remember him talking about his girlfriend and showing us pictures of her once, that was kinda weird. He was a published poet himself and sometimes he'd talk about his own poems. The only one I remember was about his experience of going to his father's funeral and being distracted from his mourning by looking at the cleavage of a girl sat near him. Which I mean sure those kind of moments can make for good art but he didn't actually recite or show us the poem or anything, he just told us that it happened and he wrote a poem about it. So like. That's not really being a poetry teacher right that's just him telling us that story, about himself. Why did he do that.

He also just was pretty stupid about poetry by the way like it happened a LOT of times that he would go down this long enthusiastic train of thought analyzing a line from a poem that was entirely based on him thinking a word meant something completely different from what it actually means or just blatantly misreading something, which made the whole vibe extra awkward/frustrating.

But the thing that made me lose my patience the most was when I googled his name to see if I could find any of his poetry and instead I found an article he'd written for a tabloid about how he saw a woman breastfeeding on the train and it grossed him out and he thinks it shouldn't be allowed. Like come on you're not living up to your own dumb bohemian freethinker shtick at even the most basic level of competence, what! Robin Williams would not fucking say that!

#pastposting #uninteresting

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thelasthippie · 4 months ago

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My syd Barret's 18th dead anniversary present..

This what u will read is UNIQUE , weird, crazy and fascinating...

The Wall movie was totally inspired by Syd, did you know ? Wanna know this crazy theory ?

Take a few minutes and enjoy this.

Isn't a secret that the sad story of the end of "Syd" was a real trauma to Roger Waters and the others. Just ten years after the musical career of Syd ends, they film the movie. Basically, Pinky is half Syd and half Roger. Im pretty sure they made a tribute , or maybe a silence cry from the sad trauma they lived with him. Lets begin :

At the begining of the movie when Pinky is with the mitical "cigarret without smoke full ash" Roger told that he found Barret in the same position with the same cigarrete in one of his " acid travels. "

Barret and waters Lost their fathers on war. At the same point, Syd mother was always overprotective, keeping him in his own "Bohemian basement" and when someone of the past of Syd wanna go near him she and his sister always stoped them. Rosemary, his sister, regret about this in an interview. Syd always renounced his past and his alter ego.

"Who is Syd ? Some rapper maybe?" He said in one of the lasts interviews.

Syd Barret with his sister Rosemary and his mom

I can never blame her cause the "hippie wave" destroyed her son... So all she did was justifiable.

Barret's problem was that he just "go out his mind" always inside his thoughts, as Rosemary said in an interview. When Pinky is "out of this world" on the piano when his wife is trying to talk with him obviously is another fact about Syd and his girlfriend Gala Pinion who not only suffered that, but Barret had a violent subtely behaviour (do u remember some scene of the movie???? :P One of my turns, right!! ) oooooooHHH and u know what ??? GALA WAS A GINGER !!!! (My skin crawls writing u this xDDD)

They were living in London inside a yunkies house where lot of famous as Pete Townshead, Hendrix or Bowie were going to visit him. These years finaly destroyed him, he was surrounded by parasites and thats why he returnt with his mother to say us goodbye forever (1972-1973)

The creepy scene of the phone before "Empty spaces" was another truth about Syd and Gala break, and waters put that eskizofrenic imaginery dialogue beetween Pinky and the phone meaning about schyzo problems of barret. Gala broke with him and go with one of those hippies. In the movie she left Pinky and go with an "antiwar" man)

After all the true mental problem of Syd were that he was on an eternal Magic travel where he saw and hear things (maybe empty spaces images represent that ? There's a subliminal message on the song : {Hello Luka hunters, congratulations}

but Nick Mason said that was just a fake cuz ppl on these times were crazy to found subliminal messages ( Imagine of john lenon or Starway to Heaven of led Zeppelin for examples u might know...)

One of the truth about Syd decay was the Musical Industry . At his firsts years he said that he would be a Pop King, but some few years later on an interview he said that he was exhaust for the pressure to make comercial songs.

When we listen Confortably Numb we can imagine is Roger against Industry, but nope... Is just a destroyed Syd going away from us. They were one of the main culprits of Syd's madness.

One of the most trauma moments of the Floyd's and Syd was when they were recording Wish you Were Here album. The image of the mad Syd was printed in their souls. Just compare.

At nobody home we can imagine the fall into madness of Syd. Things as favourite satin shirt or the goohill boots... The psychiatric scene where he was few days.

---------------------------

I saw this movie hundred of times... Im rly obssesed since i was young. I tried to find the sense of any song, any scene, any character and and they didn't make sense until I started seeing it from this perspective. A wall trap your mind by the fault of drugs, mother, wife, sistem and Industry and u start as a famous rock star and end sitting in a bathroom singing weird things...

Eeeeeehhhm.... I think i'm right about this.

" Crazy.. over the Rainbow... He is crazy " ...

Maybe all the injustices that Pinky suffers was injustice that Syd suffered.. a secret message of guilt from the Floyd's ? We never know..

Finishing this , probably they write It toguether and Barret said "yeah It's ok Roger, im out of the industry and u take care of me guys. Just Triumph with It ".

After all... They were always by his side till his death, specially Richard Wright and David Gilmore, producing his two solitaire albums and giving him money of PF rights.

So we never will know the truth, but im sure he was the shaman into shadows who helped them to produce ALL their masterpieces, apart from the album Wish You Were here...

Maybe is a coincidente that the last concert of PF was one year before Syd's dead ? Or the last album was just few years before his death???

Maybe all is a conspiracy, but you know my dear PF fans...

"The division bell had begun"

"The lunatic is in my head"

"The echo of a distant time"

You Will be always in our hearts. Thanks for everything, i see u on the dark side of the moon, Roger Keith Barret.

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mieeaahhh · 5 months ago

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How I view all for the game characters but it’s just pictures! (Updated version + some useless head-cannons)

Renee Walker

-Andrew helps her whenever she re-dyes her hair

-transgender mtf 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-he has a few smaller tattoos other than the wings on her back but she got them in ‘hidden’ places

-is really bad at video games

-has a pet rabbit named Barney that lives back at home with her mum

Allison Reynolds

-has been collecting shoes since she was thirteen and has a matching pair for every single outfit she owns

-her love languages are gift giving and acts of service

-has a diary that she still uses from when she was eleven

-she has one of those ‘upside down smiles’ or whatever it’s called

-low-key had an emo phase but if you bring it up she’ll post your home address and card information on social media. How? A magician never reveals his secrets🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

Neil Josten

-desperately needs braces but couldn’t care less about getting them so his teeth are messed up

-can do that frog blinking thing

-can cook and is actually really good at it but doesn’t enjoy it

-he would’ve been a chronic scooter kid if he grew up like a normal person

-has the face of someone with zero thoughts, eyes wide and face flat

Andrew Minyard

-the only reason he doesn’t wear his glasses is because he actually lost them years ago and doesn’t want to admit he can’t find them anywhere

-when he was a little kid he was actually really shy

-when his nail varnish chips he just paints back over it instead of taking the rest off before hand and it’s usually kinda messy

-since he has smoker lungs™️ whenever he’s sick it actually sounds like if a teenage boy going through puberty smoked twelve boxes a day

-only got piercings because Aaron had them and he thought they looked cool and he only really started finding his ‘style’ after moving in with Aaron and Nicky

Kevin Day

-has the LOUDEST snore ever but denies that he snores at all

-the foxes all tease him and have inside jokes about his ‘crush’ on Jeremy

-almost everyone and their mother has numerous videos of his drunkenly singing his heart out and it’s usually something like bohemian rhapsody or some basic ‘white chick’ music

-in the nest his hair was always trimmed and neat but when he left he let his hair grow a bit and just left it to flop around and do its own thing

-will literally stop, drop and roll in tears if a spider goes near him

Aaron Minyard

-growing up he was considered a ‘crybaby’ by a few people because he cries or gets teary when frustrated/angry

-has fallen out the bed so many times it’s ridiculous and then will wonder how he wakes up with random bruises (my other post about his weird sleeping🗣️🗣️🗣️)

-has a fear of cats

-Aaron’s eyesight is a lot worse than Andrews

-Randy often asks Matt to invite Aaron over during the holidays and stuff once Matt and Aaron become closer (they are best friends idc)

Seth Gordon

-he likes when Allison is the big spoon but that’s a secret for them and them only

-had a pet hamster named Jerry who ran away when he was a kid

-DAHLIA PIERCINGS🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

-he was the sibling that turns off the lights and holds the door closed to scare his siblings

-Allison was the first (and last) girlfriend he was truly inlove with

Matt Boyd

-gives THE BEST hugs🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I mean like lifting people off the ground in big bear hugs kinda hugs🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

-buys flowers for Dan everytime he goes to the shops

-he and Andrew do become somewhat friends at some point

-he the best at video games AND board games out of all the foxes

-he has very subtle freckles in his nose

Dan Wilds

-GUMMY SMILEEEEEE!!!!!!!

-she and her work sisters used to do secret Santa every year and she was known for the best/most meaningful presents

-she’s one of those people who hit when they laugh

-her favourite Disney princess growing up was Snow White

-she is absolutely COVERED in beauty spots/moles

Nicky Hemmick

-used to be very lanky before joining the foxes but ended up gaining some muscle after awhile

-he doesn’t like his hair being played with but he LOVES playing with other peoples hair

-has a resting worried/shocked face and the foxes find it hilarious

-would rather go bald than eat chocolate cake

-acts like the world is ending and his immune system is shutting down whenever he has a cold

#this isn’t good because I got lazy #most aren’t that much different lmao #all for the game #aftg #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #renee walker #the sunshine court #neil josten #allison reynolds #dan wilds #matt boyd #kevin day #seth gordon #nicky hemmick #the foxes #the foxhole court

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nerdieforpedro · 7 months ago

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Friends look out for friends right?

Chapter Two of Come live with me Angel Series

Benny Miller x Diana (plus size OFC)

This fic is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 1908

Summary: Benny recalls how he and Diana first met. Living arrangements are discussed in addition to why Benny ended up in jail last night.

Warning: questionable karaoke choices, a few thots, Benny cooking, more pining, reference to a fight and jail

Notes: A slow burn with Friends to lovers. I enjoy writing them. I need to fit in tacos for @musings-of-a-rose just because. She knows why. 🤣

Main Masterlist/ Benny Miller Masterlist/ Come away with me Angel Series

Benny thought back to when he first met Diana while he cooked breakfast the next morning:

Six months ago at the Saucy Cantina. It was karaoke night and none of the guys would sing with him. He even chose ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ one that the four of them would know, but none of them would sing with him. He wasn’t sure if it was just the three beers he had but he wanted to belt out a tune. There were three women near the sing book when he walked over, two of them were looking at a Beyonce song - she doesn’t have a bad one so that’s a safe choice. But the third woman who’s dark hair touched passed her shoulders was studying a page intently. He tapped her shoulder and she looked up, her honey brown eyes stared at him and he watched her baby pink lips move as she spoke, “Yes, did you wanna see the book?” Benny shook his head and asked what song she was thinking of doing. “You’ll laugh, but I was thinking of ‘Rich Girl’ or ‘Diamonds.’” She said, setting her finger on each song.

“Those two are pretty different. I was thinking of a song too but my brothers over there are buzzkills and don’t wanna join me.” He grinned, his eyes a little glassy from the beer. She chuckled and nodded, explaining that she had been outvoted and it looked like her and her friends were going to be singing Beyonce tonight.

“We don’t have to sing what they want to you know. I’ll sing ‘Rich Girl’ with you if you’ll sing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with me, Angel.” He offered a hand outstretched as he hopped up on stage. Fish tapped Pope and Will, pointing toward the small stage at the back of the bar. The woman who he would later come to know as Diana took his hand and hopped up on stage with him. Benny remembered that he didn’t let go of her hand the entire time on the stage as they sang the Hall and Oats song and danced, swaying their hips and stomping their feet in tune with the music. It earned them a standing ovation and they got a second when they finally sang ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in which there were some squeals because neither of them could hit those notes and they may have had a round of shots in between numbers. Benny invited all three girls over to the table and kept Angel as he called her, next to him as they chatted and drank. Will and Fish noticed how Benny kept holding onto her hand, like she might bolt, but she didn’t seem to mind. When the girls went to the bathroom, they teased him about getting a girlfriend of karaoke. Benny told them to shut it and that she was just really nice, but he knew then he wouldn’t be alright with not knowing her name and noting seeing her again.

Over the course of the night, he learned her name Diana and she told him his, Benjamin, but to please call him Benny, no one calls him his full name. They exchanged phone numbers and he made sure to text her to check if she got home okay and to see if she wanted lunch. One would have thought that he’s asked her out on a date but it wasn’t, just brunch. It was fun and no pressure. It helped a lot that Benny was a goofball and that Diana liked telling bad jokes. It’s been great for the last six months, towing the line between friends and something more and easy, so very easy.

This morning, Diana woke up and had a headache. What should she do? Moving in with her mother would be the more reasonable of the two options, but could she stand living with the woman again? Especially now that she was being effectively kicked out because her roommate found a man and she hadn’t.

Benny was up off the couch and had folded the blanket. He was making some eggs and toast when he saw Diana walk out in a loose black tank top and pink shorts that bunched between her legs from her thighs rubbing together. Her eyes were blurry and she rubbed them to adjust to the bright light. They went wide when she saw Benny in her kitchen, shirtless in his jeans and no socks, his hair was down and coasting along the back of his neck. She sometimes forgets how tall and broad he is. No…she knows. She tried to forget, because if she thinks about it, she do that before bed again.

“What the hell Benny..?”

“Damn Diana, that’s not what I expected. I thought I’d at least get a ‘thanks’ or a ‘good morning’, no hospitality.” He turned with a wide grin, holding a spatula in one hand. Diana cleared her throat and took a few steps forward on the cold floor to make sure she wasn’t having another dream about the younger Miller again. It turned out she was not and he really was making her breakfast in her apartment.

“I-I didn’t expect you to be making breakfast. Thank you. I was just surprised. I didn’t think you could cook.” Diana walked over and leaned on the counter, her breasts were pushed together from her crossed arms as she watched him scrambling eggs in her frying pan. “Did you want me to start some bacon or toast?” She asked, Benny turned to answer her but was greeted by her ample cleavage that was exposed. Toward the scoop of her tank top, it looked like he might just be able to see the cusp of something. He’s not supposed to be thinking about that they’re friends. Benny wonders from time to time and feels guilty because of how close he keeps Diana. He swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth and nodded.

“Sure, make both. I’ll eat what you don’t. You like onions and peppers in your eggs right?” Benny asked, drizzling some on half of the eggs, Diana agreed and took out the bread and bacon to get started. The bacon she put between two paper towels and microwaved it while she plugged up the toaster to start on the bread.

“Benny, you take your toast like your hair?” She joked, he roared with laughed as he remembered first telling Diana that’s how he liked all his bread that wasn’t on a sandwich. He was finishing up the eggs while she made six pieces of toast and eight pieces of bacon. It was a lot of food, but after they sat down and split it up, Benny and Diana scarfed all of it down along with two glasses of water each. They sat at the table relaxing because they were both full. Diana decided to ask first.

“Benny, are you going to tell me why you were arrested last night? You told me you hadn’t had any issues with the law for a couple years. There had to be-”

“You really wanna know Angel? Then if I tell you, you need to move in with me.” Diana opened her mouth to protest but Benny held up his hand. “You’re gonna say no, but you know you and your mom are like oil and water. Also you can pay me rent if it makes you feel better. I’d rather you didn’t though. You’re my friend.”

You’re my friend.

Diana realized that the only one stressing about being in close quarters with Benny was her. It would be the better and cheaper choice. She’d just have to keep her wits about her and gawk at him…too much.

“Fine Benny, I’ll move in with you. I haven’t found another place besides my mom’s anyway. Now will you tell me why I had to get you from county last night?”

“You know that bar we go to often, right? I was drinking after a fight. May have lost, not a big deal. Point is, we were laughing and joking it was all good.” Benny leaned forward with both elbows on the table, his muscles taut. Diana wants to tell him to sit back or throw a blanket on so she won’t stare.

“I know the bar, yes.” She tilts her head, confused about where this is going. “If things were good, why were you in jail?”

“That bastard said, anyway. He said something he shouldn’t have. I showed him he should keep his mouth shut.” Benny shook his head and stood up from the table taking both plates and silverware over to the sink. Diana sighed following him and had her hands on her hips.

“Benjamin Miller tell me what he said. Now.” Her lips pressed together, and he knew her bottom lip had likely poked out. “Was it really that serious to where you needed to injure three men? I mean I’ve heard all sorts of things said-“

“I don’t care what you might have heard in the past but no one’s going to talk about you like that! Not while I’m breathing.” Turning toward her, his face was red as he chewed on his cheek. “He asked me how you were in bed because he was sure you were enthusiastic and loud since you sing so well. I told him to shut the fuck up and he followed it up with…it doesn’t matter. I should have made it so his jaw would be wired shut.” Benny tossed the dirty spatula in the sink and started running water in a large bowel, pouring in some soap to start washing. “You try Diana.”

“Anything any drunk idiot says you shouldn’t listen to Benny. He’s an asshole. Don’t go to jail again. He and no other asshole is worth it.” Diana took the spatula and two forks to dry and put them to the side to put away.

“I’m not letting some douchebag think it’s fine to talk about you any kind of way Di, I’m not. I’ll try and stay out of jail. I can’t promise not to fight for you.” Washing the two plates, Benny handed them to Diana and watched as she bumped the drawer closed with her hip and leaned on her tip-toes to put away the plates after drying them. He found himself laughing to which she whipped the dishtowel at him.

“If I move in with you, you can’t be going back to jail Benny. I’m serious.”

“I am too.” Diana knows how serious he is which is a blessing and a curse. There’s always assholes that will say all sorts of things. Thankfully Benny was alright but what happens if he gets a longer sentence. Maybe he somehow thinks he won’t. They’re going to have to agree to disagree. “One other thing though Angel,”

“What now Benny? You gonna fight the cabinet for being too tall for me?”

“No. We need to go get my jeep from the bar. Then we can start moving your stuff today.” Whipping his hands on his jeans, he walks over to the couch and gets his shirt and slips it on. “Grab your keys.”

“I don’t leave the house in my sleep clothes Benny. Give me five minutes.” Rolling his eyes, he watches Diana make her way into the bedroom and close her door to get dressed. She may have fussed at him, but she was still moving in.

Goal accomplished

Chapter One Chapter Three

Notes on Benny’s guitar 🎸: @tinytinymenace @laurfilijames @rhoorl @musings-of-a-rose @megamindsecretlair @gwendibleywrites

#fanfiction #benny miller x plus size reader #benny miller #benny miller x ofc #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #Nerdie fic

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