#sorry c!Jimmy I keep throwing you around

[krashlite]

Mmmmore roughs!

Insert coconut [dONK] sound effect here

[jimmys-zeppelin]

ghostin'

chapter ten

(table of contents)

(chapter nine)

april 3, 1976

help me

Ellie tried keeping her mind off of her potential situation after she got back home. As soon as she landed, she was at the doctor's office getting her blood drawn. The doctor said she'd have her results on Monday.

She observed how Jimmy had been acting in the 12 hours they were together before she left after their night out. It wasn't that he was on-edge, but he was definitely a little less than comfortable. And that was an understandable reaction considering how unexpected all this was.

She was separating, folding, and putting clothes away from her suitcase when the doorbell rang an incessant amount of times. Ellie knew it could only be one person with the insistence in which the doorbell rang.

The bell only stopped when Ellie finally yanked the door open, "Andrew, what the hell!" she joked. The dark-haired man nearly screamed with delight and engulfed the blonde in a hug.

"God, that was the longest fucking three weeks of my life! How was it? How'd it go? Did you break some beds?"

Ellie held her mouth agape for a second before laughing and ushering the man inside. He followed her back upstairs as they spoke, "No beds were broken, contrary to popular belief. But it went great. Jimmy said Charlotte really liked me after we stopped by a second time. And his daughter is so sweet."

"So you're cool with the family! Awesome. Now you know you'll probably be seeing more of them. Try not to catch the baby fever, though."

Ellie chuckled dryly at the statement, "You might be a little late on that one, Andrew."

"Listen, kids are cute, but when you actually have to take care of them, it's a hassle. Wait till you're old and wrinkly and you've already lived."

Her heart sank in her chest, would her life really be slowed down that drastically by a baby?

"El, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Can we not talk about babies right now?" She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose and crumpling up a shirt she had been holding, tossing it into her dirty clothes pile quite aggressively.

"Uh, oh. Seems like I hit a nerve. Did Jimmy say anything to you about having kids?"

"No, not exactly. He wasn't opposed to it. I just—I don't want to think about kids right now. Can we talk about something else?"

"Okay, fine I won't budge," he said, throwing his hands up in surrender before stammering in an attempt to find a new topic to talk about, "what was the house like?"

"It was beautiful. Huge. Like imagine my house but like ten times bigger. I know he doesn't need all those bedrooms."

"You two should've had sex in all of the rooms. A new room every night." Andrew said, almost excited at the prospect.

"What is it with your obsession in my sex life? Aren't you getting some?"

"It's a little hard for my scene of people, Ellie. And plus, it's not my fault your boyfriend is a total looker. I don't know how you don't just stare at him all day."

Ellie chuckled at the comment, "Well we did have a morning that we spent in bed. It was nice."

"You're keeping something from me. Ellie, we don't keep secrets."

"What do you—" Ellie tried to play off, only to enter a stare-down with her best friend. She kept eye contact for as long as she could before the dryness made her scrunch her eyes shut. "Fine! I am keeping something from you."

"And it is....?"

"I can't tell you just yet. But I will say one thing, I'm extremely worried about Jimmy. I walked into his office the other day because I was looking for something and there were just bottles. And drugs. All over the desk."

"What kind of drugs?" Andrew asked, leaning in.

Ellie folded up a skirt, putting it away in her drawer before answering, "heroin and coke."

"Heroin? I hear that shit is wack if you take too much. Was he shooting it?"

"He'd done at least three. He was completely zooted. Out of his mind. His arm looked like an inexperienced nurse trying to find a vein. Andrew, it was horrible."

"Oh, God. I can only imagine. I'm sorry, babe. What did he say when you saw him?"

"He didn't say anything. I got kind of mad at him afterwards because he knows I get worried when he uses the stuff. He tried to butter me up and say sorry, but I just kinda brushed him off."

"Aw, Ellie. Do you wanna go out tonight; get your mind off it?"

"I don't know...I don't really wanna drink this weekend."

"We don't have to drink." He shrugged.

Ellie eyed him suspiciously, "since when does 'going out' not consist of drinking?"

"I heard Queen's still in town. We could try to look for 'em. Maybe I can get Freddie to sign my chest." Andrew said, stroking his chest sensually.

"You sound like a groupie." she chuckled.

"Listen, you're the famous one, not me. I can be as whorish as I want."

With a roll of her eyes, Ellie picked up her hamper, walking off to the laundry room with it to get started on her clothes.

☆

Later that evening, after Andrew had gone home, Ellie picked up the phone. She held it in her hand for a second before hanging up the receiver. Looking at the clock, the blonde noticed it was only 6pm. A drive would be nice. She thought to herself.

Grabbing her sunglasses and a coat—it was unusually cold for April—and took her keys from the table by the front door as she made her way over to her car.

Deciding she'd go down to West Hollywood and stop at her manager's office, Ellie took the long way and chose to take her time while driving.

Turning on the radio, she just caught the beginning of "Help Me" by Joni Mitchell. She turned the volume a bit louder and relaxed against the driver's seat; letting the California sun hit her face and a slight breeze come in through the window. She forgot about everything that'd been on her mind as she drove down the highway, taking in the music and bobbing her head along to the beat.

Taking a turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard, Ellie observed the tons of stores and people that littered the sidewalk. As she slowed to a stop at a red light, she took a look across the street to find a particular head of bleach-blond hair. Rolling down the window some more and pulling her sunglasses down, Ellie's suspicions were confirmed.

"Roger!" She exclaimed without thinking. Her heart dropped to her ass at the realization that she'd just publicly yelled at someone she'd only met twice before. "Shit." she whispered under her breath.

"Ellie?" Roger asked in response. He was visibly leaning over and lowering his own sunglasses to be able see the singer inside her car.

"I thought you went back home!" Ellie said, nervously glancing between Roger and the stoplight.

"No! I hung around! The guys went back home," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I've been calling you!"

"I've been away! I should've told you! I just got back!"

Another glance at the light.

"Can I call you later?"

"Sure!" Ellie exclaimed when the loud blaring of a car horn behind her caused her to jump in her seat. She waved a quick goodbye to Roger before going on her way. It wasn't until she caught her breath that she realized she'd been holding it. She shook her head and took another deep breath, continuing down the street.

☆

"Carolyn'll see you now." The receptionist said. Ellie stood up, now with her coat and sunglasses off, she felt a bit more at ease. She said a quick thank you to the receptionist before letting herself into the office.

"Ellie! Sit down, babe." Carolyn said cheerfully. "You said April 1st."

"I got a little caught up in some personal stuff."

"I hope nothing too bad. You didn't overdo it on the blow did you?"

"No, no. I promise, Care. That's one thing you'll never have to worry about with me."

"I better not. Don't need you dying on me or anything. How was your trip?"

"It was great! Jimmy and I got some alone time, it was nice. I met his daughter. Absolute sweetheart."

"You didn't get knocked up, did you?" Carolyn asked, furrowing her brows at her.

Ellie practically jumped in her seat, her eyes widened, "No! I don't—why would you—?"

"Oh my God, you got knocked up didn't you? You were there for barely three weeks, Ellie!"

"I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow. I'll call you as soon as I can to let you know how it went. I just don't want to think about it right now." Ellie sighed, not wanting to think about her worst fears for another second.

"Fine. Let's see if the record company needs anything from you." Carolyn replied, flipping through a notebook that was sitting on her desk before looking back up at her, "I need you to get a song out, or even an album. Tell me you did something other than screw around with your boyfriend on your trip."

"I started a song, then I kind of abandoned it when I had an idea for a different one...it's a bit personal so it'll definitely be on the slower side, I think." Ellie explained.

"Got a name?"

"Uhh, it doesn't have one yet."

"Is it finished?"

"Nearly."

"Alright, well. Finish it by this week and we can get you in the studio in two weeks."

"I'll try." Ellie replied.

☆

Ellie sat hunched over her songbook scribbling a few words down and crossing out others. She chewed on her pencil, staring at her thoughts on the page. The blonde hadn't thought about the song she'd written while at Jimmy's house in a while.

Trying to hum out the tune she'd created, Ellie was about to run and grab her guitar upstairs when the phone rang; this stopping her in her tracks. Detouring to the phone, she quickly picked it up off the receiver, "Hello?"

"Ellie?" the man on the other line asked, his voice identifiable immediately as Roger's.

"Hi, Roger." she said, the smile on her face audible in her voice.

"Hey, how've you been?" he asked. "You went missing for a bit there."

"Yeah, I'm doing okay, I went to England with Jimmy for a few weeks. He played host for me for once." She joked, twirling the phone cord in her fingers.

"Oh wow, was it your first time?"

"No, not at all. I go back to visit him quite often, actually. When I'm not busy, of course."

"Right, right. Uhhh, listen, I was about to grab a bite to eat. Did you want to come with me by any chance? Unless you've eaten already, then it's a redundant question." Roger added quickly to the end of his invitation.

Ellie hesitated at her answer, although she didn't know why, "...Sure! Yeah, I was just gonna wind up making some macaroni and cheese anyway, so, I guess it's better to go get an...actual meal." She replied. Her answer was painfully awkward and she physically cringed at her response.

"Okay, great! So I'll come by in a few to pick you up. Say, 8:30 ish, if that's okay with you?"

She glanced at the clock, 7:55pm. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you then!"

The two said their goodbyes and hung up. Then, when Ellie started on her way upstairs—again—the phone rang again. It was Roger, realizing he'd never asked for her address. They had a laugh about it before Ellie told him the information and she went to get ready.

---

masterlist | playlist

Taglist: @diaryofafan17 @tophats-n-lespauls @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @princesspagey @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx if you want to be added to the list lmk!

2-12-21

7-13-21

[glassbxttless]

Clyde Logan x Reader

Part Three

Summary: just Clyde being a dad (:

Word Count: 1,196

The same letter board that held Benjamin’s name four years ago now reads,

Andrew James Logan

Due in February

<3

Clyde had the same stupidly huge smile on his face for this announcement photo that he did in Ben’s. But this time, he held his little buddy on his hip, flesh arm wrapped around him as they both held the letter Board. Hair was peeking out from under Clyde’s hat along with the tips of his ears.

Two years of trying for this one, two years paid off for you two to be having another perfect little boy. You felt impossibly more round than you did before, at only twenty weeks. Clyde sat Benjamin down after you’d taken their photo and placed his hand on your belly. He loved feeling your belly.

“Mama.” Ben patted your thigh gently. “There’s a baby?” You just ruffled his hair and nodded.

“Mhm, there’s a baby.” Your grin was ear to ear as Clyde began to pick up the toys Ben had left out on the floor of the trailer.

“How do you get the baby?” He asks curiously. You rolled your eyes and smiled, that’s a question for your daddy, sweet cheeks.

-

At week 38, You felt so impossibly big that you couldn’t even bend down to do simple tasks anymore. But Clyde was picking up the slack you left. When Ben’s toys were scattered through the living room floor of the trailer— he was the one running along and coaxing Ben to pick up.

Clyde was even insisting you stay in bed, he’d take care of you, the house, his job, and Benjamin. You knew his heart was in it. But could see how quickly it was going to wear him down. “Just let me help, Clyde. I can make dinner.” You laughed, placing a hand on your lower back as you stretched a bit. You felt like you were bigger now than you were with Benjamin.

Clyde smiles as he places his hands on your tummy, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle as you turn your head to check on where Ben was. “Honeybee, I can take care of us. More than capable.

“I know you’re capable.” You say to him, a hand over his as he continues the soothing circles. “But I’m also capable. This pregnancy has been amazing. Fit as a fidd— Ben!” You reach out to grab the collar of Benjamin’s shirt to keep him from running face first into the countertop.

“Let him play, honey. He’s a growin’ boy.” Clyde says softly and fixes the collar of Ben’s shirt for him. “Run on and play. Don’t scare your mama.” He whispers, giving him a pat on the back as Benjamin throws a thumbs up and runs into his bedroom.

“Can’t keep putting off fixing Ben’s room around for Andy.” You say as you move to pull the thawed chicken from the fridge and seasonings to cook with. “Need to put the crib up.”

“Honeybee, stop worryin’ that pretty lil head.” Clyde mumbles as he lifts Benjamin up, holding him on his hip with his flesh arm around him. “Papa bear’s got it. Huh Benny?”

“Daddy got it.” He nods as Clyde sits him in his chair.

“I’m not worrying really. He could be here any day now and we haven’t set up anything yet.” You smile at him. “Literally any day.”

Clyde rolled his eyes as you three ate together, Andrew kicking your rib and causing some major heartburn as you went.

-

At week 40, you two woke up on the morning of the 14th. The day you’d scheduled your next c-section. Sadie had come by to watch Benjamin. You made sure to tell her he had to eat his dinner and no juice after seven. That he could play outside as long as he took a bath— and you two were off.

After being prepped for your surgery, Clyde was holding your hand the entire time. Which might’ve been different from Benjamin’s birth. He didn’t stand to watch this time, just whispered each and every thing that was happening, wishing you realized just how perfect what you’re doing was.

When they cleared his lungs, the two of you heard a small cry. It’s little Andrew.

When you brought Andy home, you set Benjamin on the couch and Andrew in his lap. Clyde sat beside them, supporting Andy’s head with a smile. Your three boys.

Your heart was so full. You didn’t ever wanna let this moment go. But soon Andy and Ben would be out running around and playing. Maybe they’d get Clyde out there with them. Teaching them to shoot cans and to be gentlemen. But right now you got to see all three of your boys sitting there in front of you.

When it came time for bedtime, you bathed Ben and Andy together; got them into their pjs, and Clyde helped you get them to bed. He tucked Benjamin in as he laid Andrew into his crib. After their bedtime story, and shutting their light off, you two crawled into your own bed.

“Our first night with them both was successful.” You say as Clyde reads from his book. Clyde only hums in response. He loved them both more than anything, maybe more than he loved you. His kids would come first as long as he lived and you didn’t mind. Your kids came first to you too. No matter how much you loved Clyde.

-

When Andrew was two and Benjamin was six, Clyde decided to sit them both down after a particularly long day shift at the Duck Tape and an unusual amount of misbehaving for you on your kids part. “Now your mama tells me you two’ve been causing trouble.”

Andrew gives Clyde his biggest smile and reaches out for him, “daddy! be good.” He says softly.

Clyde smiles and puts his hands down. “You were not good today. Neither was your brother.” You watched them from where you were cooking, Clyde just talked and talked about them needing to behave when he was gone.

“Now go give your mama a hug and say you’re sorry.” He gives them both a kiss on the head as they stand and he sighs, sitting down himself to relax for a moment. His boys were his biggest accomplishment— maybe besides you. and he wanted to mold them into fine young men.

You hug both of your boys, kissing their cheeks and opening the front door to the trailer. “Go on out and play, boys. Don’t leave the yard.

“Daddy says we—”

“I said don’t leave the yard.” You say a little more stern as the boys run out to play. You pour a glass of sweet tea and bring it over to Clyde, sitting on his lap as he takes the glass. “They’ve been saying all day you and Jimmy promised to take them fishing.”

“Mm, we did.” Clyde takes a few drinks and closes his eyes. “Friday, maybe.”

You smile, tucking back a strand of his hair. Your life with him couldn’t possibly get any better than it was. “Clyde?”

“Hm, honey bee?”

“You ready to be a daddy again?”

[glassbxttles]

Clyde Logan x Reader Summary: Just some bits from my brain of Clyde being a dad of two little boys. Word Count: 1,196

The same letter board that held Benjamin’s name four years ago now reads,

Andrew James Logan Due in February <3

Clyde had the same stupidly huge smile on his face for this announcement photo that he did in Ben’s. But this time, he held his little buddy on his hip, flesh arm wrapped around him as they both held the letter Board. Hair was peeking out from under Clyde’s hat along with the tips of his ears. 

Two years of trying for this one, two years paid off for you two to be having another perfect little boy. You felt impossibly more round than you did before, at only twenty weeks. Clyde sat Benjamin down after you’d taken their photo and placed his hand on your belly. He loved feeling your belly.

“Mama.” Ben patted your thigh gently. “There’s a baby?” You just ruffled his hair and nodded. 

“Mhm, there’s a baby.” Your grin was ear to ear as Clyde began to pick up the toys Ben had left out on the floor of the trailer.

“How do you get the baby?” He asks curiously. You rolled your eyes and smiled, that’s a question for your daddy, sweet cheeks.

-

At week 38, You felt so impossibly big that you couldn’t even bend down to do simple tasks anymore. But Clyde was picking up the slack you left. When Ben’s toys were scattered through the living room floor of the trailer— he was the one running along and coaxing Ben to pick up. 

Clyde was even insisting you stay in bed, he’d take care of you, the house, his job, and Benjamin. You knew his heart was in it. But could see how quickly it was going to wear him down. “Just let me help, Clyde. I can make dinner.” You laughed, placing a hand on your lower back as you stretched a bit. You felt like you were bigger now than you were with Benjamin.

Clyde smiles as he places his hands on your tummy, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle as you turn your head to check on where Ben was. “Honeybee, I can take care of us. More than capable.”

“I know you’re capable.” You say to him, a hand over his as he continues the soothing circles. “But I’m also capable. This pregnancy has been amazing. Fit as a fidd— Ben!” You reach out to grab the collar of Benjamin’s shirt to keep him from running face first into the countertop. 

“Let him play, honey. He’s a growin’ boy.” Clyde says softly and fixes the collar of Ben’s shirt for him. “Run on and play. Don’t scare your mama.” He whispers, giving him a pat on the back as Benjamin throws a thumbs up and runs into his bedroom.

“Can’t keep putting off fixing Ben’s room around for Andy.” You say as you move to pull the thawed chicken from the fridge and seasonings to cook with. “Need to put the crib up.”

“Honeybee, stop worryin’ that pretty lil head.” Clyde mumbles as he lifts Benjamin up, holding him on his hip with his flesh arm around him. “Papa bear’s got it. Huh Benny?”

“Daddy got it.” He nods as Clyde sits him in his chair.

“I’m not worrying really. He could be here any day now and we haven’t set up anything yet.” You smile at him. “Literally any day.”

Clyde rolled his eyes as you three ate together, Andrew kicking your rib and causing some major heartburn as you went.

-

At week 40, you two woke up on the morning of the 14th. The day you’d scheduled your next c-section. Sadie had come by to watch Benjamin. You made sure to tell her he had to eat his dinner and no juice after seven. That he could play outside as long as he took a bath— and you two were off.

After being prepped for your surgery, Clyde was holding your hand the entire time. Which might’ve been different from Benjamin’s birth. He didn’t stand to watch this time, just whispered each and every thing that was happening, wishing you realized just how perfect what you’re doing was.

When they cleared his lungs, the two of you heard a small cry. It’s little Andrew. 

When you brought Andy home, you set Benjamin on the couch and Andrew in his lap. Clyde sat beside them, supporting Andy’s head with a smile. Your three boys.

Your heart was so full. You didn’t ever wanna let this moment go. But soon Andy and Ben would be out running around and playing. Maybe they’d get Clyde out there with them. Teaching them to shoot cans and to be gentlemen. But right now you got to see all three of your boys sitting there in front of you. 

When it came time for bedtime, you bathed Ben and Andy together; got them into their pjs, and Clyde helped you get them to bed. He tucked Benjamin in as he laid Andrew into his crib. After their bedtime story, and shutting their light off, you two crawled into your own bed. 

“Our first night with them both was successful.” You say as Clyde reads from his book. Clyde only hums in response. He loved them both more than anything, maybe more than he loved you. His kids would come first as long as he lived and you didn’t mind. Your kids came first to you too. No matter how much you loved Clyde. 

-

When Andrew was two and Benjamin was six, Clyde decided to sit them both down after a particularly long day shift at Duck Tape and an unusual amount of misbehaving for you on your kids part. “Now your mama tells me you two’ve been causing trouble.”

Andrew gives Clyde his biggest smile and reaches out for him, “daddy! be good.” He says softly. 

Clyde smiles and puts his hands down. “You were not good today. Neither was your brother.” You watched them from where you were cooking, Clyde just talked and talked about them needing to behave when he was gone. 

“Now go give your mama a hug and say you’re sorry.” He gives them both a kiss on the head as they stand and he sighs, sitting down himself to relax for a moment. His boys were his biggest accomplishment— maybe besides you. and he wanted to mold them into fine young men.

You hug both of your boys, kissing their cheeks and opening the front door to the trailer. “Go on out and play, boys. Don’t leave the yard.”

“Daddy says we—”

“I said don’t leave the yard.” You say a little more stern as the boys run out to play. You pour a glass of sweet tea and bring it over to Clyde, sitting on his lap as he takes the glass. “They’ve been saying all day you and Jimmy promised to take them fishing.” 

“Mm, we did.” Clyde takes a few drinks and closes his eyes. “Friday, maybe.”

You smile, tucking back a strand of his hair. Your life with him couldn’t possibly get any better than it was. “Clyde?” 

“Hm, honey bee?”

“You ready to be a daddy again?” 

|| part one || part two || part three || part four ||

[patina-millers-biceps]

Tell us how you would redo SMASH tell ussssss

OH HELL YEH Thanks.

OK, SO in my ideal world, Smash runs for 5 seasons. Remember that bc I’ll come back to that later. Overall Tone: I would take it all... and dial it up to 100.  Remember Ellis? Now EVERY character is that fucking crazy. It’s like Glee if Glee was self-aware to how batshit crazy it was, and relished it. The problem was that Theresa Rebeck (season 1) knows what NYC theatre is like, tried to be realistic, but also make it relatable to middle America, and that Joshua Safran (season 2) does not but also tried the same things. When really they needed someone who A) knew what NYC theatre was like B) didn’t give a fuck and C) didn’t give a fuck also about if middle America found it relatable.  But Sarah! What about viewings? You ask. Well, if YOU’RE the moron who’s going to write about a hyper-specific industry I think you just gotta dive in. Commit. Make everything fucking crazy and completely unrelatable to literally everyone. Riverdale that shit but make it good writing. Ultimately, it’s why season 1 worked better. Because at least my girl Theresa knew how to write drama without resorting to burying her gays. I think she should have taken it up higher though. Like, when Uma Thurman’s character got an allergic reaction? I think Karen and Ivy should have teamed up to poison her. I said what I said.  As for the Team Ivy vs. Team Karen? We’re balancing a tricky line here bc it has to be dramatic but also not misogynistic. (that season 1 Ivy character assassination? Bad.)   Ideally, these two would go from hating each others GUTS to reluctantly teaming up against movie star Rebecca (Uma Thurman would thus have to appear earlier and stay longer), deciding that they are in love actually like each other, and cheering on their successes and hating on the MEN who force them against each other. (But while we’re on the subject... #TeamIvy).  That Out Of The Way: Season 1: The Bombshell Workshop Phase Season 1 would ONLY follow the workshop phases of season 1. Which is most of it. Here we have Ivy and Karen’s strangers to enemies to reluctant teammates to friends to lovers arc. This is the emotional core of the show. Rebecca Uma Thurman has to show up around the midway point. Julia’s adoption arc? Throw it out. Sorry Ms. Rebeck i stan you but it sucks. Focus on her and Tom’s friendship as the secondary emotional standpoint. They’ve worked with with other for years!! That dynamic is awesome!! But they were fighting the whole ass show??? Nah. Pit them against Derek. I would change nothing with Eileen.  Oh I also don’t give a shit about Karen’s shitty boyfriend. Season 2: The Bombshell Out of Town Tryout/ Enter Hit List  The first half of season two is the out of town tryout with #TeamIvyKaren against #TeamRebecca coming to a head through rehearsals and the first few previews. Like, I’m talking some Phantom of the Opera level fuckery these two are doing. Falling set pieces, costume malfunction, Ivy actually fucking putting the peanuts in her smoothie. It’s seen as OK bc in this version of Smash Rebecca is a terrible person who has no respect for the ~~**~Theatre~~**~~ The creative team still choose Karen as Marilyn (why?) but she doesn’t get good reviews!! This causes Karen to freak out if the theatre life is really right for her when she meets Jimmy and Kyle. Karen jumps ship to Hit List, Ivy rises to her rightful place as Marilyn in Bombshell. Rehearsals begin to reshape the show for Broadway, Hit List lands its Off-Broadway run. Season 3: Broadway Here I Come/ It’s Tony Time Babey!!  Bombshell opens on Broadway, Hit List opens Off-Broadway and KYLE DOESN’T FUCKING DIE (He still gets hit by a car, everyone thinks he died at first, but he’s just in a coma for a few episodes wherein he has weird out-of-body experiences.) Hit List transfers to Broadway.  BUT WE HAVE SOME DRAMA because Movie Star Rebecca has landed the role of Maggie in a revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof! We have some cross-show hate bt Bombshell/ Hit List/ and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof because they’re all on 45th street. There’s drama bt Julia and Kyle bc of Kyle’s fling with Tom! But will it last? No! Kyle ends up really hitting it off with Wesley Taylor’s ensemble member character when he visits Tom backstage at Bombshell! Eileen threw one too many drink in her ex husbands face and he’s legally blind now also she’s producing Bombshell AND Hit List! I’m fucking crapping that shit with Ana getting booted from Hit List and Derek being a perv. Karen and ivy still really hate Rebecca (??? it’s Smash it doesn’t have to make sense!) so they stage a coup and replace her in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Jennifer Hudson’s character! The Tonys happen! I liked how they worked out in the show, so i’ll keep that. Jimmy still goes to prison! Tom gets back together with Sam!  Season 4: That’s How We Keep 8 Shows A Week Fresh Y’all  Basically what it sounds like. We go back and forth between Hit List and Bombshell and the absolute CHAOS of backstage on Fake Broadway. There’s a snowstorm that shuts down the city, people hooking up backstage. Derek has an actual redemption arc. Ivy does not get knocked up bc she knows how to use birth control. The Big Story is how bc Eileen is involved with some illegal shit if it’s going to all come crashing down on the unsuspecting actors and writers. Tom and Julia start writing their Great Gatsby Musical. Fictional Lin-Manuel Miranda is there. Jimmy gets out of prison and rejoins the cast. This season takes up about 2 years of time and will be dubbed the weakest one by critics and fans alike.  Season 5: Big Finish!   Bombshell and Hit List have been running for about 3 years total by now. Eileen’s illegal shit comes out. Bombshell and Hit List have to close! It’s a really long that takes up the whole season. All the camp of the previous seasons is gone now and it actually is really beautiful and sad. Some real “What I Did For Love” shit.  At the end, Hit List is able to transfer back Off-Broadway a la Jersey Boys and Avenue Q with a new producer, Bombshell dies but goes out strong and is recorded for PBS and eventual DVD. Ivy now finds out she’s pregnant and also joins the workshop of The Great Gatsby The Musical as Daisy, Ana is Jordan Baker, Sam is Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway is played Nick Jonas’s character who no one has seen since season 1. Derek is the director.  Another Op’ning Another Show yall.  Karen and Ivy reunite to sing “Big Finish”  End of Series.    You’re welcome everyone, even though literally only 1 person asked for this. 

[stxvercgersslut]

Always Here

Prompts: “Please don’t go”

A/n: I just had to make this with these promps 😂 @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 this was my fave to write! Also I have nails on that may prevent me from actually writing the correct words sometimes so I apologise 😂

Description: y/n got horribly sick the night before Chris had to go for a huge life changing interview forcing the actor to chose what’s more important to him.

A/n; in this specific oneshot the reader is 3 years old so still a toddler ☺️ I also switch from she/her to you/your quite often. Divider just marks where point of view changes 💞

Temporary tag list: @et-lesailes @jtargaryen18

Warnings: mentions of vomit and over all tones of fluff

Chris Evans x Daughter! Reader

“Yeah yeah, John I’ll be there in around 30 minutes. I’m just about to leave the house now. Just have to drop y/n off at Scott’s for the day and then I’ll be on my way.” The 39 year old actor spoke through his phone whilst juggling not only eating his breakfast but also having to make his little 3 year old, y/n’s, breakfast too all the while having a conversation with his manager about his latest interview. Of course making sure that he was concentrating on cutting Y/n’s toast in to perfect triangles, if they were anything less then perfect of course she would just point blank refuse to eat it, just barely listening to Jake at this point. Even if he didn’t understand her peculiar routine, Chris would never say no to her. He couldn’t help it, she was just too damn adorable.

From the moment that Y/n had been placed in his arms exactly 3 years ago, the actor had vowed to always protect her from demons that lerk around them until the day that he too his last breath. Which he of course prayed wouldn’t be too soon since he longed to watch his precious angel grow up into the strong confident women he was positive she was going to turn into. “Okay well make sure you get here quickly. You’re already fifteen minuets late Chris. I don’t know how much longer I can stall them.” The sigh of frustration coming from the other end of the phone line was pretty damn obvious as John thought about the next words he could say. It was almost extremely audible to hear the cogs turning in his head. But Chris couldn’t have been more pissed from his managers choice of words if he tried. However, he attempted to keep his cool. If not for his sake then for his 3 year olds sake. She really didn’t need to hear him get angry. Especially not on the phone. “Okay okay! I’m sorry, y/n’s been awake all night with a cough.” And with that Chris finally wrapped up his conversation, hanging up the phone and leaving the kitchen, Y/n’s perfectly neat triangle toast in hand.

By the time chris had walked back into his toddlers room he found that she was unfortunately still passed out in her miniature toddler sized bed. Snuggled firmly into the blankets looking like a beautiful angel from where he was standing. How could he wake her up from such a deep slumber when she’d only just managed to fall asleep nearly an hour ago? Exactly! He just couldn’t. She looked so peaceful laying there with the blankets draped across her, almost as if she had no care in the world. Her y/h/c locks smushed across her face hiding the otherwise noticeable flush of red on her cheeks from the fever that she had been running. Any other day Chris would have cancelled to stay with her, but today he couldn’t. Not when his career needed the extra little boost.

But then again what mattered more to him? His career? Or the physical well-being of his 3 year old daughter? Now that was a question that hardly needed an answer! Especially when it was clear as day that Chris would choose his little girl in a heartbeat if he could. No matter what! But this situation was different. Unfortunately he couldn’t just say no to his manager without a good reason for cancelling, although Y/n being incredibly sick was definitely a good enough reason right?

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

With a great big sigh the actor finally placed your toast on the side before gently pulling the blankets from over you, exposing your tiny little figure to the welcomes cool air. “Sweetheart? Y/n? Can you wake up for me please?” Your father soothes as he attempted to coax you into waking up, but he should have known better. If he wanted you to wake up quickly then he should have thought of a better way of doing so then just shaking you. But with you being so weak from barely getting any sleep? He wasn’t exactly sure you would wake up. “Come on baby...can you wake up for daddy?” This time Chris managed to pick you up, rocking you from side to side like he had when you were barely hours old but this time being a little firmer with his rocking in his arms to make damn sure that you did wake up. And soon enough you finally did.

Slowly but surely your eyes opened, taking in your surroundings once again as your eyes adjusted to the agonisingly bright room, working hard to bring yourself back to reality. “Morning bubba” he cooed, seconds away from offering you toast before you once again began to cough harshly. Pulling a cringe like expression into his face. “Awe baby, I hate leaving when you’re like this, but I really don’t have a choice....will you be okay with uncle Scott for a few hours?” Chris questioned whilst still rocking you ever so gently, his right hand beginning to rub and pat your back In hopes that it would somehow help you stop coughing. Or at least just help you settle. At this point Chris seriously was considering just cancelling the interview with Jimmy Fallon so that he could stay with you. Once you’d finally stopped with your god damn awful coughing fit that your body had subjected you to, you were finally able to speak. “Daddy no leave! Daddy stay! Please don’t go”You spoke hoarsely whilst snuggling closer into Chris’s chest making his heart begin to tear due to how sick you were. Now it really was difficult to pluck up the courage to leave you. “Daddy can’t stay baby, I have to go to work. But you’re going to have a lot of fun with uncle Scott okay? He’s going to take care of you whilst I’m not there” The Male spoke as he kissed the top of your sweaty forehead, grimacing at home warm toy actually were. Which of course seemed to make Chris slightly more curious as to if you were fit enough to even sit in the back seat of his car where he wouldn’t be able to see you.

Thankfully Chris’s trail if thought had been paused when the sound of his ring tone echoed around the room, finally hitting his ears and startling you in the process. Quickly fishing out his phone only to find that this was in fact Scott calling, making his eye light up. Now was his chance to help you as much as physically possible. “Hey Scott, what’s up?” Chris spoke as he finally answered the phone, sitting down on your bed with you still in his arms as he attempted to get you to at least eat one piece or toast. Which at the moment you seemed to just completely refuse. Making Chris even more concerned, meaning that he really wasn’t paying much attention to his brother. In fact, he had completely missed everything that Scott had said, humming in agreement even though he had no idea what he was even agreeing too. For all he knew he was agreeing to sky diving.

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

Did Chris really think he was born yesterday? Apparently so. Come on Chris it really didn’t take a genius to realise that his own brother wasn’t paying attention. So instead of babbling on about whatever he has been trying to speak to his brother about, because at this point even he had forgotten, he did the decent thing and made sure to check on his older brother. “Ch—“ the younger sibling questioned before being stoppe by the stomach churning unpleasant sound of his usually bubbly niece coughing harshly through the phone. The sound in itself was enough to shatter Scott’s heart to pieces. He loved that little girl with a passion, always asking about her whenever he talked to Chris, so to hear that she was so ill seemed to spark worry in the younger Evans sibling. “Chris? Don’t go to that interview and don’t even think about even putting her in your car!” The Male demanded as he grimaced at the sound of his niece coughing a lot more violently now, until the sound of her throwing up and Chris’s loud sigh could be heard from the other end of the phone. Oh that poor girl. She really was having the worst time right now.

❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅

The line went dead for a solid 3 minutes as Chris hurried to the bathroom, never stopping the slow motion of his hand rubbing small circles on your back in hopes that, if you needed to throw up again, the small gesture would help to prevent you from having to force the vomit out of your throat. “Okay baby okay....that’s not gonna come out of your hair on its own...I’m gonna need to bath you” the actor explained to you whilst helping you stand next to the toilet, directing your head into the bowl as you threw up again. Of course, forgetting Scott was even on the phone until the sound of his brother deliberately shouting int the phone for a response seemed to startle him. Quickly picking up the phone before they started their conversations (italics is Scott normal is Chris.

“Chris?! What the hell just happened?”

“Y/n threw up all over herself and me. I need to go call John and let him know I’m gonna be later then expected.”

“Don’t you dare! Send me Johns number and I’ll call him, you’re not going to leave the house! Instead you’re going to stay with your daughter and make sure she’s okay! Y/n comes first always”

“Funny thing is you’re not actually the boss of me”

“No I’m not but that doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass if you don’t stay with your three year old daughter!”

“Scott this interview could be career changing!”

“And if you don’t stay with y/n it’ll be life changing!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. If you leave Y/n then something could happen whilst you’re being interviewed. Do you really want to risk that chance?”

“No not really”

“The stay with Y/n and send me johns number.”

Chris’s groan wasn’t barely above a whisper as he pressed his phone against his shoulder, keeping his ear firmly against it to prevent any unwanted accidents whilst he filled the bathtub with warm water. Of course grimacing every time you threw up into the toilet. Oh how he wanted to take this dreadful bug from you. But he just couldn’t. “Okay okay fine!” And with that Chris ended the conversation with his brother, swiftly hanging up the phone and forwarding his managers number to Scott before switching his phone off. There was no need to keep his phone on now since you were all that mattered to him right now. Besides, if he did answer his phone or even keep it turned on then he’d 100% end up arguing with his manager about ‘not taking his job seriously’. That just couldn’t happen right now.

Soon enough Chris halted the flow of warm and cold water, quickly dipping his elbow into the mix to make sure it wouldn’t scold you before he finally turned to you once it was deemed child friendly. “Alright pumpkin, lets get you all cleaned up and into some new pjs. Hopefully your fever will go down after your bath.” The Male soothes as he waited for you to finally finish throwing up before picking you up to bath you. Oh he was most certainly in for a tough day.

[shesclearlya3]

i loved you first. p.2

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 4,391

warnings: au! in present time, language, a big oops coming

not entirely proof-read. 

*title inspired by joan’s song*

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

One Year Later

"NO ONE, NO ONE, NO ONEEEEEEE, CAN GET IN THE WAY OF WHAT I FEEL FOR YOUUU!"

"YOOOU! YOOOOU!"

You covered your ears as Montana and Brooke screamed sang along to Alicia Keys, while in the kitchen finishing up dinner in their shared apartment. You were recently promoted at work, and they wanted to celebrate with you.

Brooke sniffed, "I miss Ray." she said as she poked at her homemade noodles with a fork.

"It's only been four hours!" Montana interjected, meeting your eyes as the song ended. You smiled softly, taking a long sip from your glass of wine. 

"I know," she said, "He's always gone. I miss him."

"It's too bad the others couldn't join us," Montana said as she stirred something in a pot. "We haven't had the group together in a minute."

You silently bobbed your head as 2006-era Rihanna came on, attempting to keep your mind away from Xavier Plympton.

It's already been a year since you first met his girlfriend, Chloe. You couldn't believe how fast 2019 seemed to go. Now, you were counting down the days you had with him before he moved into his new apartment with her.

When you first heard the news, you assumed he was pulling your leg. You were having a slumber party in the living room, a few drinks in when he accidentally blabbed to you that they were looking for a new place. He admitted he wanted to tell you over dinner the next day, which would probably have gone a little better. Instead, you spent the rest of your Twilight marathon holding back tears and wishing Jacob Black would ride out of town with Chloe on his back and disappear forever. 

But after a good night's sleep, you realized it was selfish of you. You congratulated him and decided that maybe it was time for a fresh start for yourself. Before your promotion, you'd barely make enough to pay the rent all on your own. Brooke and Montana had gladly offered you their empty space, which you wanted to accept. But after your salary doubled, you'd be able to renew your lease for another year.

Even after all this time, it seemed you never really got to know Chloe. She was still friendly, but there was always an uncomfortable aura between the two of you. You had a few things in common with her, which helped make conversation whenever Xavier wasn't around, but it never exceeded that. 

You assumed you were being paranoid when she’d seem to always be looking at you, her eyes observing your every move when you were being your normal self with Xavier. Or how her voice always seemed to become sickly sweet when you’d be minding your own business, hardly remembering they were even there.

"Earth to y/n?"

You glanced up to see Brooke place a large bowl of spaghetti in the middle of the table. Montana was already sitting down, a half-eaten piece of garlic bread in her mouth. 

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, embarrassed. 

Brooke giggled, "I asked if you were alright. You're quiet tonight - more than usual."

You nodded, helping yourself to her spaghetti as the girls gathered food onto their plates. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking of Xavier moving out."

The girls nodded understandingly, "You know, the offer is still open," Montana said, smiling at you. Her blonde hair was pinned back, and she looked vibrant as her eyes observed you kindly. "You haven't lived alone in years, it's okay if you're not comfortable with the idea."

You nodded appreciatively, "I know, and thank you both, but... I think it will be good for me," you said, picking up your fork to smash at the bits of lettuce on your plate. The girls watched with amused expressions. "Maybe I'll finally stop moping over him and get myself a boyfriend or a girlfriend, who knows?" you said. 

"I think you should tell him how you feel, y/n," Brooke said simply, drinking her wine as if she was commenting about the weather.

You laughed dryly, "You know Xavier, he'll be pissed I kept it from him this long. We tell each other everything."

"I don't pretend to be an expert on love, y/n, but I say that if he is upset about it, fuck him." Montana shrugged, and you heard the sound of Brooke kicking her under the table. "Ouch! Come on, who wouldn't want to date y/n? He's an idiot for not seeing how she clearly feels about him."

"Xavier is our friend. We all know he can be dense and naive, but it's part of his charm." Brooke defended him before turning her eyes to you. "Why is it that you never made a move?"

The room got quiet as Montana's Spotify playlist came to a stop. You took a few bites of food, pleased that your friends gave you a few seconds to get your thoughts together. That was one of the things you loved about them.

"I guess I was just afraid of ruining what we had," you admitted, smiling a little. "We've known each other since elementary school; all of us, and the only ones who ever progressed into the romantic territory were Brooke and Ray."

Brooke's cheeks flushed, and you knew it wasn't from the wine.

Montana chuckled, a light blush coating her cheeks. "About that..." 

You and Brooke gave her a quizzical look.

"Senior prom..." Montana nodded, "Chet and Me."

Your mouth fell open simultaneously with Brooke, who cackled as Montana blushed a deeper red. You joined in on the laughter as Brooke held her stomach, tears threatening to spill over.

"What is so funny!?" Montana yelled over your laughing, now slightly irritated. "I went with Jimmy Darling, remember!? He got drunk and fell asleep near the food table, so Chet and I decided to skip, and..." she laughed now, refusing to look you in the eye. "It was alright."

"Oh, my God! Why didn't you tell us!?" you said after containing your laughter. Brooke was still giggling, complaining her sides were hurting. 

"It didn't even last long, I think I blocked it out of my memory for a while... but he is packing..." Montana finished.

As you finished up dinner, Brooke refused to delve too deeply into her sex life with Ray. You three finished two bottles of wine and were now lounging in the living room in your pajamas, debating on watching a horror movie or a comedy, and you were already thinking about the snacks. 

After deciding on the original Friday the 13th, the movie was about fifteen minutes in when a message from Xavier flashed on your phone. You glanced at it.

Xavier: Hey, did you leave the front door unlocked?

No, I made sure it was locked like always. Why?

Xavier: I think someone has been in here. Your room is a mess!

You straightened up, glancing towards the girls who were cuddled up, munching on popcorn. Xavier sent you a picture of your room you had just cleaned the night before. A few of your dresser drawers were cracked open, and clothes were peeking through, definitely searched through. Your bed was haphazardly made, and your work clothes were strewn on the floor.

"Oh no," you said, causing Brooke and Montana to look at you.

"What's wrong?" Brooke asked, concerned.

"Xavier thinks someone broke into our apartment!" you said, giving them an alarmed look. 

"Oh shit, let's go!" Montana said, and the three of you wasted no time in driving to your home.

- 

"Well?" Montana demanded as you and Xavier entered the apartment after speaking to the police. 

"They said it looks like someone had a key made. There's no damage to the door, and y/n says it was locked, so..."

"It was, I always double-check. Always..." you said, sitting down in the empty seat next to Brooke, who put a comforting arm around you.

"Who in the hell would have a key made?" Montana asked before she paused. Her eyes looked wild, before finally settling on you and Brooke. You gave her a confused look.

"I don't know. It's not like I have any friends other than you guys." Xavier said sarcastically. The one thing about Xavier is that when he was scared, he was more than likely to be agitated, and it always showed. 

"Did you give one to Chloe?" Montana asked.

"No, I never-..." Xavier paused, throwing a glare in her direction. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, I'm just eliminating suspects, is all." Montana defended, quirking an eyebrow at Xavier. "y/n, have you given a key to anybody?"

You shook your head, hoping this didn't cause a fight, "No, I have not."

"See?" Montana offered, looking rather smug, "We're just eliminating, that's all."

Xavier glanced at you, and you nodded encouragingly. He seemed to like that, nodding himself and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of freaked out..."

"That's understandable, Xavier. You don't have to apologize." Brooke said, shooting a small glare at Montana, who hid a smirk. "Do you guys want us to stay?"

"Yeah, if they come back, it's four against them," Montana offered, looking delighted at having the chance to kick some ass.

"No, you ladies can go home," Xavier said, before smiling at you. You felt your heart flutter. "We'll be alright."

After bidding the girls goodnight, Xavier plopped onto the empty cushion next to you. He glanced at you longingly, before saying, "I'm sorry if I scared you." 

You shook your head, "Please, do not apologize. If it were me, I would have called the SWAT team."

Xavier laughed, "I don't doubt that! Seriously though, I'm glad neither of us was home."

You nodded, "But it doesn't change the fact that they were in my room looking for something..."

Xavier frowned now, thinking, "I know... We checked every room, nothing else looked out of place."

"You're right, nothing has been stolen..." you said.

You sat there for about an hour, talking through your day. Xavier gave you his full attention, even when you'd hear his phone vibrating in his pocket every few minutes. He ignored it, asking you questions until you yawned loudly, falling into the back of the couch.

"y/n?" he asked, his voice sounding tired.

"Yes?" you whispered.

"I'm glad you're safe."

2.

You almost forgot about the home invasion completely. Your landlord changed the locks, issuing you a new key. Xavier's stress eased as the week passed, and soon he was back to his old self. 

You didn't think much of it when Chloe started acting oddly friendly towards you, smiling at you or asking you questions about what you were doing whenever you saw each other. You assumed it was because she was bored when Xavier's attention was elsewhere.

The group was finally getting back together, and you found yourself having to face going to Chloe's place for the first time. You dressed for the hot weather, while Montana silently got ready beside you. You wondered if she was alright. She usually was bubbly before a night out. Brooke was just now getting back from her shift, occupying the shower in the other bathroom.

"Do you think this dress is too short?" Montana suddenly asked, turning around in her leopard print, knee-length dressed.

"Nope," you said honestly, "It's the perfect length for your height."

"Aww, thank you, y/n," she said, though her tone didn't match her words. 

You nodded, running the brush through your hair one last time. 

"Are you okay?" you finally asked, looking at her through the mirror.

Montana seemed uncomfortable, and you regretted asking. Montana never liked to be pushed for answers, especially if it regarded something personal. However, she looked at you as if she wanted to tell you, so you patiently waited.

"You know the guy I've been messing around with, Trevor?" she asked.

You nodded, "Yes, why?"

She shuffled in front of the mirror, taking her makeup bag and digging through it quickly. She often did this when she was nervous. Montana started applying mascara, using it as a ploy to avoid looking at you. "Well, I kind of had him do some digging on Chloe Smith."

Your eyes widened as Montana nonchalantly applied her makeup. "You what?"

"You can't get mad!" Montana said, switching the wand to the other eye. "I kept thinking about it, and it doesn't make sense. Like you said the other night, we've all been friends for years. You and Xavier never gave us keys to your apartment. Chloe has been around for only a year. She probably feels left out, and since you live with Xavier, it looked like a red flag to me." she said before observing her work. Montana continued, "So I had Trevor ask his brother to look into her, he's a real estate agent and has access to background checks. So he looked up her name, and he didn't find much, but..."

You egged her on, "But?"

"Long story short, she's a bit of a stalker," Montana said brightly, turning to look at you. "There's a restraining order against her for obsessive stalking."

Your mouth fell open at this, wondering why Montana looked so damn cheerful about this. 

"I know what you're thinking. I think it's great news if Xavier finds out who she really is, then he'll break up with her and be with you."

As much as you wanted to rejoice and praise the Lord above, you knew this was wrong. "Montana, that's not right!"

"Why not?" she pressed, looking through her makeup once again. 

"We don't know if she was the one in my room. Anyone could have a key made-."

"Exactly! She's been with Xavier for this long. If the neighbors saw, they'd think nothing of it. Trevor's brother agreed, he said people have gotten into unavailable apartments by falsifying keys and claiming they live there. It's not that hard to do, as scary as that sounds."

"I don't understand what she could have been looking for," you said, frowning. Your heart rate increased, wondering if Montana was possibly right. 

"I don't know, pictures, a diary, a vibrator?" Montana joked until she saw the look on your face. "y/n?"

Your face paled as you quickly left the bathroom, going to your bedroom, and promptly digging through your dresser. You heard Montana, and now Brooke calling your name as you threw clothes all over the place. Your worst fear was confirmed when you realized your journal was gone.

"y/n!?" Montana asked, stopping in the doorway. Brooke was behind her, dressed and ready to go. She looked concerned. 

"My journal is gone," you choked. 

Montana gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were excited, though. Brooke looked more lost, looking between the both of you with a crinkled face. "y/n? What is going on!?"

"Montana, I think you might be right," you said, looking at her. 

Brooke looked impatient, and you slowly gathered your clothes with shaky hands as Montana filled her in on the possible scandal. Brooke gasped at the appropriate times and quietly asked if they should tell Xavier or not.

"I don't know!" you moaned, sprawling out on your bed. "He's going to be so pissed at us!"

"Not if we catch the bitch red-handed!" Montana interjected, coming to stand in front of you. "Look, y/n, we're all in this together. If it turns out we were wrong, which is a very low possibility, I will personally take responsibility for it."

"I couldn't ask that of you," you said flatly.

"Too bad, I'll do the same," Brooke piped up from behind Montana, smiling at you. "I always thought something was off about her. She won't get away with this."

Montana turned to her, grinning. "Get it, babe."

Brooke blushed and glowed the entire way to Chloe's place as you thought over a plan. 

- 

As you waited for the boys to arrive, you were getting a headache thinking of all the things you wrote in your journal about Xavier. It's probably been well over two months since you wrote in it last. Still, you gushed about your best friend more than once, praising how much you loved him. 

The atmosphere in Chloe's home was warm, and you hated that. Brooke and Montana were helping her in the kitchen while you lounged on a chair to keep up appearances. Brooke had brought you a hard lemonade, which remained untouched as your head got worse by the minute. 

The television was on low; MTV was playing an 80s rewind, and you attempted to distract yourself, focusing on George Michael. You occasionally heard Chloe's voice chime in, and your friends laughing at whatever she said. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt left out.

It wasn't long before there was a series of knocks on the door. You shot up, calling out that you'd get it. You were almost knocked onto the couch when a tall, redhead breezed past you. Chloe swung open the door, squealing at the sight of Ray, Chet, and Xavier holding bottles of alcohol and a bag of snacks. Xavier was barely in the door when Chloe was all over him, causing Ray to roll his eyes and push through.

Chet met your eyes and smiled, and you couldn't help but smile back.

Montana and Brooke came out after hearing the commotion, and for a few minutes, there was loud laughter and talking as everyone began to settle in. Xavier was dressed like he came straight out of a magazine cover, and you clenched your legs together. 

"I'm starving, is the pizza here yet?" Ray asked as he followed the others into the kitchen. You followed hastily, not wanting to watch nor hear the sounds of Chloe and Xavier making out in entrance.

"We just ordered it fifteen minutes ago!" Brooke said, hugging Ray tightly as he kissed her forehead. You smiled, amazed at how in love they were. Montana nudged you, throwing a protective arm over your shoulders as Chet stuffed the alcohol they brought into the fridge. 

"We'll wait until she gets a few in her," Montana mumbled, "Then we'll give her a taste of her own medicine."

You nodded silently, still feeling like it was a bad idea. As much as you loved your friends, you feared this was going to blow up in your faces. Chloe and Xavier squeezed into the crowded kitchen, going for the alcohol as they managed to hang onto each other. 

You followed the others into the living room, taking your original spot on the couch and opening the lemonade Brooke had given you. You beckoned for them to sit next to you, but was aghast when Chloe and Xavier sat next to you, Xavier in the middle. You felt your cheeks get red as Chloe threw her long legs over his lap, her feet just inches from you. The girls gave you an apologetic glance as everyone found a spot on the remaining furniture or on the floor.

The first few hours were spent eating and laughing at all the outrageous stories Ray had from working on the road. After you ate, you felt your headache slowly melting away. Chloe was definitely lightweight as she quickly became more clingy and loud towards Xavier, who seemed to be more interested in what Chet was talking about than her babbling incoherently. 

Ray convinced Chloe to dig out the Wii, and he was fighting with Montana on who got to be the first player. From the corner of your eye, you could see that Xavier was watching you. You fought the urge to look, smiling as Brooke leaned back against your legs, laughing at her boyfriend and best friend arguing over who the best Mario character is.

"Xavieeee, I have a secrettttt..." you heard Chloe whisper a little too loudly, her wide eyes staring at Xavier, who was still looking at you.

"Not now, babe," he brushed her off, before turning his attention on Chet, who asked him a question you couldn't hear.

"I have to pee!" Montana said suddenly, standing up and meeting your eye. 

"Me too!" you said, catching the hint and throwing Chloe's long legs off you. Brooke nodded in support, scooting closer to Ray, who was loading Mario Kart. 

You did your best to appear nonchalant, but you were still nervous as you followed Montana down the hall. Instead of veering right into the bathroom, you crept down the hallway and walked straight into her bedroom. 

It was an ordinary room, white walls, a large bed, a record player with a bin of records underneath. There was a guitar shoved in the corner, and it felt wrong invading her space like this.

"Don't feel bad, y/n," Montana said quietly, looking at you. "She has no respect for you. But we have to hurry!" 

You nodded and quickly began to dig around. You made sure to put everything back in its place and not make too big of a mess. Montana had the same idea, but her actions were more rushed than calculated. You heard Chloe's laughter, along with the others as someone turned on the sound-bar. You could hear an intense game of Mario Kart going on. 

Montana's loud gasp sent chills up your spine. You turned from your spot looking underneath her bed, seeing her holding a box she got from the closet. "What is it, Montana?" you asked.

"I found your diary," she whispered, looking at you.

You realized you forgot to listen to what was going on in the other room. 

Montana quickly grabbed you, forcing the two of you two squeeze in the little closet as Chloe's voice grew closer. Montana held a hand to your mouth as she shut the door, and it became silent as Chloe entered, giggling to herself as she grabbed a jacket from her bed, stumbling back out.

You waited a few minutes before Montana pushed you out, and the two of you stared at each other in disbelief.

"What do we do now!?" you hissed, pointing to the small box Montana still had clutched in her hand. 

"I didn't think this far!" Montana shot back, before opening the lid. Your heart stopped, seeing your journal, along with a small notepad on top. It was no bigger than the palm of your hand, and underneath, it looked like there was a photo of you and Xavier. 

"We can't cause a scene with everyone here!" you said, and Montana nodded in agreement. "We have to go back out there, or they'll think we're up to something."

"I need you to play sick," Montana said, removing the contents and shoving the box on the shelf. "We'll be in deep shit if we're caught. I'm going to sneak this out, and we'll present it to Xavier later,"

"How is he supposed to believe we found it here?" you asked as Montana shoved it under her shirt. "This isn't going to work!"

"y/n, trust me this once, please," she said, before wrapping her arm around you. "Lean into me like you're sick so we can hide the this between us." 

You went along with it, stumbling out and hiding in the bathroom. Montana flushed the toilet, and you ran the water for a few seconds before coming out, back in your position. 

"Guys, y/n isn't feeling well, I'm going to take her home," Montana said, leading you towards the door.

"What's wrong, y/n?" Chet and Ray asked while Xavier stood up, almost knocking Chloe off his lap. She looked disgruntled, shooting you a glare. You pretended you didn't see, scrunching your face up.

"She got sick, I'll stay with her until Xavier gets home," she pushed, attempting to get away as Xavier walked towards the two of you, clearly concerned.

"Hey babe, are you good?" he asked you, and you hid your smile as Chloe frowned at the name.

"I think the alcohol just isn't agreeing with me," you lied, giving him what you hoped was a weak smile. "You don't have to worry about me, Xavier,"

"I'm always worried about you, y/n," he said, frowning at you.

Chloe stood up, coming over and attempting to put her arms around him. Xavier allowed it but didn't reciprocate as she gave you a dirty stare. Montana returned the glare, squeezing your arm, silently begging you not to move.

"She'll be fine, Xavieee!" Chloe said, "Let M-Montana take her home,"

You desperately wanted to tell her to fuck off but refrained. "I'll wait up for you," you assured Xavier. But before you could say anything else, Montana stumbled, forcing the two of you apart. Your journal, along with the photo and notepad, clattered to the hardwood floor.

Your friends watched them clatter to the ground, and you immediately wished lightning would strike you down. 

Chloe blinked before recognition flashed in her eyes. "WERE YOU IN MY ROOM?"

Montana, bless her soul, bent down and scooped it. "Don't act so fucking surprised, you lying sack of-."

"Montana!" Xavier said before he recognized your journal. Chet squeezed his way towards you as Chloe fumed in her spot, the others watching quietly. 

"You went into y/n's room and stole this!" Montana accused, waving the journal in Chloe's face. "You're fucking psychotic!"

"Chloe, is that true?" Xavier asked, giving her a dumbfounded look. 

"Of course not, baby! They're setting me up!" Chloe hiccuped, tears welling up in her eyes as she pointed at you and Montana. "They're lying."

"If they're lying, what is this?" Chet asked, holding up the notepad that Montana left on the ground. Your face paled as you saw your name continuously written in black ink before scribbled with red ink. "And that's not even the most fucked up thing in here!" Chet glared at Chloe and Xavier, "This is fucked up."

"I need you all to leave," Xavier said, "Now!"

Chet was yelling at Chloe and Xavier as the others hurriedly grabbed their things, almost pushing each other out of the apartment. 

"Xavier-," you said, wanting to plead with him to believe you.

"y/n, go!" he said, his eyes hard as Chet carefully pulled you into the hall. The last thing you saw was Xavier's angry expression before the door was slammed in your face. 

taglist: i’m so sorry if i missed anyone, my list accidentally got deleted :( if i missed anyone, please let me know!

 @the-walking-daryl @trichy-knitts @shydragonrider@thefandomzoneisdangerous @lemonwhiskers @jetblackpayne @langdonsvcrd @okoktrinity22 @uwonman @stefanmikaleson1864 @sevenwonderwitch @rubbrninja @iamnotjesha @leatherduncan @imshakingandcryingrn @bratzblitz @goblackcat69 @brookethompsonownsme @bookoffracturedescapes @zodiyack@bitchchatter@guiltyfiend @psychobitchtess  @aangrana  @thexmancometh @wtfcas​ @pleasforhelp​ 

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 4) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: This one was a doozy! Don’t start your very first fic with only a vague idea of where it’s going, friends! Quick reminder that this is a slow ass burn. Gonna take us a bit to get there but want to point out there will be no infidelity. Also fun fact: my grandfather actually did work at Elaine’s and the Mick Jagger story is true.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Hallelujah, I Love Her So - Ray Charles

Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel) - Billy Joel - [I know it wasn’t released till the 90s but I couldn’t shake it]

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady

- - - - - - -

July 1982 - Freeport, Long Island

“I’ll be right back,” you sigh to no one in particular, pushing yourself off of the faded paisley couch in the basement of Steve’s parent’s house and making your way upstairs for a glass of water. The dull pounding in your head had only gotten worse from repeatedly staring at the green shag carpeting leftover from the prior decade. Navigating the layout of the familiar house with ease, you make your way to the kitchen.

“Oh, Bunny! Wonderful, I was just about to bring down some iced tea,” calls out Steve’s mother upon seeing you.

“Thanks, Mrs. Castellano. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you know me. It was too quiet when you were all away.” The Limbs had recently gotten back from a small European tour--the album having spread beyond England; to Scotland, France, Germany, and Belgium. “I can’t help myself when I get all of you back under my roof. Speaking of… how’s it going down there?” she presses.

You keep your deadpan expression glued to your face as you lock eyes with the kind woman.

She grimaces, “I had a feeling. You better bring this back yourself then,” she hands you the pitcher.

“Will do. Thanks again, Mrs. C,” you tell her as you start to trudge your body back towards the basement. You let out a deep sigh before yanking the door open and descending into the pit of your own personal hell.

Lawrence’s voice booms from below, “I said simple! A simple four to the floor, and that’s it.”

The rest of The Limbs were right as you left them. Eddie and Rich lounge on the couch that is pushed up against the wood-paneled walls, their guitars strewn casually over their legs as they watch the ongoing argument. Lawrence paces around the room, his hands seemingly glued to his head as he pulls on his hair, and Steve sits behind his drum kit that’s tucked away in the corner. Padded blankets hang from the ceiling around him - a sorry excuse for soundproofing.

“Oh c’mon, I’m just adding some flavor to it! I’ll be as boring, sorry simple, as you want when we actually record it,” Steven replies, twirling a drumstick in his right hand.

Rich lets out a sigh as he clocks you making your way back. “Bun, any help here?”

You softly place the pitcher on a table off to the side before turning to the group, leaning back on your hands. “I just don’t get why we need to debut something new if it’s obviously not ready,” you say carefully.

“Of course you’d say that,” Lawrence grumbled, gesturing in your general direction. “Do you not want to sing it? Because you all told me you thought it was good!”

“It’s not that, and you know it, it’s just-”

“It just needs some work before Sunday, so let’s run the rhythm section again,” Eddie cuts in impatiently from his perch on the back of the couch. He untangles his spidery limbs and makes his way over to where you’re camped out.

“Okay, I’ll explain it again,” Lawrence huffs.

“We don’t need this stress two days before we play,” you tell Eddie softly.

“It’s a hometown show, Y/N,” he looks at you pointedly. “These folks helped get us to where we are. It’ll be nice to give them something new.”

The label had secured The Limbs a night at the Jones Beach Theater, the largest outdoor venue on the island. People from all over traveled to watch such acts as Jimmy Buffet, James Taylor, and Aerosmith, the height of entertainment for the suburban droves. And now they’ll be camping out for the first hometown Limbs show since they’d been signed. It was a huge deal, and you knew it, but you didn’t need something unfamiliar to throw off your already wavering shadow of a presence on stage.

Rich begins to pluck out the new bass line, carefully watching Lawrence’s reaction as he plays. On the pick-up, Steve again adds a light flourish as he joins in.

“Steve! For god’s sake! What did I just say?!”

“Live a little, will ya, Lawrence!” Steven shouts back.

The door to the basement wrenches open, and you all freeze. Mr. Castellano’s footsteps are heavy as he stomps down the stairs, somehow staring all of you down at once.

“Kids. If you’d be so kind as to keep it down a tad. I already have to watch the Yankees hand their asses over to the Blue Jays up there. I would at least like to hear it.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Steve mumbles.

“Thank you.” He starts to make his way back up the stairs but halts, turning to you once again. “Oh, also, someone from your label called before,” he adds on casually.

Steven jumps up from his stool, “What?! Dad!”

“What?! Steven!” he mimics. “I’m not your secretary.”

“Can you just tell us what they said?” Steve scoffs at his father.

“Something about being invited to a show at The Garden tonight. Some band. It’s… Dang it. I wrote it down somewhere,” he mutters, making his way back up the stairs.

“I wonder who it is,” Rich thinks aloud, glancing around to all of you.

Eddie notices as your body immediately stiffens beside him.

“Bun?” he asks slowly. “Do you know who’s playing Madison Square Garden tonight?”

Your eyes find the green carpet once again. Of course you knew who was playing tonight. Queen was beginning their two-night stay at the venue. Dawn wanted to get tickets, but you had argued that it was getting harder for you to go unrecognized in public. That, and the fact you had come to the realization you could only act like a complete fool around any of the band members. You weren’t keen on adding another entry to the list.

“It’s Queen!” Mr. Castellano calls from upstairs. “Starts at 8. You kids should get going if you’re gonna make it.”

“Queen’s playing?” Lawrence marvels. “How did we miss that?”

Rich rises, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe all the incessant practicing you’ve been holding us hostage for?” 

“She knew,” Eddie smirks, pointing at you with his thumb. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve never gotten the chance to see them live before!” Steve questions, already rocking back on his heels with excitement. He had become quite the Queen fan since your run-in with Freddie after sticking to him like glue that entire night.

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, “I thought we had more important things to focus on.”

“No, that’s not it,” Eddie deduces, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re just embarrassed that you went all jellied around Mr. Mercury the last time.”

“You’re the one who had to go and tell him all about me fawning over them on MTV!”

“Ooor, maybe it’s because the entirety of the UK saw you making eyes at their bassist on that game show,” Lawrence elaborates.

“There were no eyes being made at anyone,” you grit out defensively, knowing full well that their words were ringing true.

“I, for one, am happy you have a crush, Bun. You know it’s been a while since…” Rich trails off, leaving out the name of a dreaded ex none of you speak of.

You push yourself off your perch on the table with a huff. “You know what? We’ll go. Let’s go. That way, I can disprove all your wildly inaccurate assumptions,” you retort, wanting to get the heat off you fast.

Steven chuckles, “Oh no, she’s broken out her dictionary, folks. Looks like we’ve hit a nerve.” He pokes your side playfully.

“Shut up, please,” you tell them, making your way over to the stairs. “We have a train to catch.”

- - - - - - -

You’re late.

The muffled bass from the arena hits your ears as the Limbs dash up the steps leading from Penn Station to MSG. You all but sprint to catch up with the boy’s long gaits as they approach the box office window.

“Hiya, there’s supposed to be some tickets at will-call for us from the band,” Eddie explains to a woman behind the glass as he tries to catch his breath.

“Name?” 

“Uh… Lo & The Limbs?”

“Don’t have anything under that name. Could it be something else?”

“Can you try just The Limbs?” he guesses, turning back to the group with wide, panicked eyes.

“Nope, sorry,” she answers in a monotone.

“How about The Legs,” you offer up from your spot behind Rich’s tall figure. She just shakes her head.

“Well, fuck,” Lawrence sighs, slapping his palms against his legs, obviously ticked off from the 45-minute train ride you’d all barely caught because Steve had changed his shirt a minimum of three times before you could all head out.

“What about Bunny?” Steve asks with a giggle.

The woman raises her eyebrows before checking the list yet again.

“Ah, there you are. Bunny and friends,” she concludes with a sigh.

A chorus of chuckles erupts from the boys. You point your finger at Eddie.

“I’m coming for ya. Eds. You’re not gonna know where or when, but I’ll get you back for this one day,” you tell him playfully. 

“Oh yeah, and when you kill me, you can be free to go off and start your solo group, Bunny and Friends.”

She hands you all large laminate passes and gestures for you to follow a security guard. They deposit you in one of the skyboxes on the 10th floor. The Limbs tentatively enter, glancing around at the mishmash of people gathered. Extra crew, friends of the band, some execs, you guess to yourself. The boys immediately descend on the small bar set up in the back of the room.

“Here, I assume you need one of these,” Lawrence shoves a beer in your shaking hands. 

“You assume right, good sir.”

“How the hell did we lose Steve already?” Eddie gripes. Rich easily spots him over the tops of heads surrounding them, pointing to a tall figure pushing his way towards the front of the box that opens up into seating. You all follow, mummering polite excuse me’s and thank you’s as you try to keep up. You can hear Play The Game get louder as you approach the view. 

Steve rushes to the first row of seats, leaning over the railing of the balcony. “God, will you look at all these people?” he marvels, watching as the dancing lights illuminate the mass below him.

But you’re not looking at the crowd. Your gaze immediately finds the stage, where Freddie is situated behind a piano off to the left. His voice booms as if he were standing right next to you, and you’re positive that even without a mic, it would be heard by all 20,000 individuals. His eyes are closed as he slams hard on the piano, seemingly in his own world, yet the entire crowd is wholly entranced.

Brian then casually lopes to center for his solo. He smiles out at the crowd as his fingers dance across the frets gracefully while Eddie screams in appreciation throughout. He then jogs back to his mic, nearly missing his cue for his backing vocals, but his fingers never rest. Roger’s gravely falsetto catches your ear, and you train your eyes on the multitasking drummer. Even up behind his kit, his presence takes center stage while he keeps perfect time. The group ends the song in perfect synchronicity as the lights cut to black.

The chords for Somebody To Love start with a few majestic trills from Freddie’s voice, but your attention is once again grabbed away. Towards the back of the stage, still cast in darkness, you see John. He quickly shrugs off a fitted leather jacket to reveal an even tighter full cerulean blue ensemble before a roadie slips the strap of his bass over his head. He strolls into the light just as Freddie finishes his improv, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet as they begin the song.

While he keeps his gaze mostly pointed to the ground, his body already thrums with anticipation. As it really gets going, you watch as he comes to life. You can’t help but hang onto his every movement; the unintentional jerks of his head, the light two-step of his feet as he shuffles along to his bass line's groove. He seems entirely at the will of the song and loving every minute of it. A pang of jealousy hits your chest as you wonder if you’d ever feel that free on stage.

Not much conversation passes between you and the boys as you watch on, more than a bit awestruck. You’re not sure how many songs pass, but fresh beers repeatedly appear in your hands every so often. The lights are dizzyingly bright as your eyes skip around the stage, trying to absorb as much as you can. You find they consistently flick back to John, sucking in every minutia of his performance. Your chest tightens like it did the day of Pop Quiz. Every time he had caught your eye, you remember having to push down the inescapable thoughts you were having. You would tell yourself you don’t know what it is about him, but you’d be lying. 

A voice jolts you out of your stupor. “You must be Fred’s young friends he met in New Haven.”

The group turns to find a small man situated in the row behind them wearing an impeccably tailored suit.

“Jim Beach, manager for the band,” he holds out a hand for each of you to shake. “Sorry for the last-minute invitation. Fred was simply beside himself when he remembered you’re all from New York. So glad you could make it.”

“This is incredible, thanks so much for having us,” Rich tells the man sincerely as his gaze keeps being drawn back to the stage.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourselves. We’ve always been big fans of playing here.”

“It’s quite the spectacle,” you muse. “I've never seen The Garden this decked out before. I mean, those lighting rigs alone must cost…” you trail off.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Jim replies with a quirk of his lips. “If you’d all like to follow me downstairs, they’ll be finishing up soon, and I’m sure Fred would love to thank you for coming.”

Steve leaps from his plastic seat, “Yes, please!”

- - - - - - -

The green room is unlike any you’ve ever seen—rust-colored persian rugs litter the floor, the grey slate underneath barely peeking through. Tapestries and various paintings line the walls, somehow giving the usually sterile space a homey feel. Multiple buffet tables filled with every accoutrement imaginable are tucked away in a back corner.

The room is scarce of people for the most part. Crew members filter in and out, grabbing waters, some puffing on cigarettes as they wipe down their sweaty foreheads. A select few have migrated down from the skybox as well.

Lawrence plops down on one of the many leather couches, taking in the room. “So this is what it’s like when you make it?”

“Seems a little excessive even for a band of their stature,” murmurs Rich as if reading your mind.

The deafening roar of the crowd is heard from above, and Queen closes out their encore. The crew members who are now needed for the post set break-down hurry from the room as it gets quiet. You all sit there in near silence for a few moments until a light cheer erupts as Freddie, Brian, and Roger all enter the room, swaddled in thick robes and towels around their necks. They're breathing heavy, still radiating the energy from their set, knowing full well that it was a fantastic show.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie says as someone hands him a bottle of cold water, glancing around at the people who are still giving the band a wide berth. He spots the group of you huddled out of the way. “Oh!” he exclaims with a clap of his hands, making his way over, “You made it!”

He kisses you all on the cheeks, leaving a ghost of sweat on your faces. “My gangly young saplings! It’s lovely to see you.” He locks eyes with you, a wicked grin on his face. “And you most of all, my little cottontail.”

“You were fantastic Freddie, thank you so much for thinking of us, really,” you tell him genuinely.

“And who have we got here?” a towering Brian May appears behind Freddie.

“Oh yes, may I present to you, Lo & The Limbs!” Freddie says, spreading his arms wide. So he does remember the name; you laugh to yourself.

Eddie pushes further into the group to immediately extend his hand. “You slayed tonight, man. I mean, really slayed.”

Brian returns the shake with a surprised laugh. “Why, thank you. I’ve heard your album, and I have to say, you all… slay as well.”

“Oy, you!” A disheveled looking Roger Taylor makes his way over to the group, people parting like the red sea before him. He marches straight up to you, his finger inches from your nose. “I lost quite a lot of quid, thanks to you.”

You shrink back a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“It would be like John to bring in a ringer at the last second. And after we’d already threw down our bets.” You glance at Freddie with a confused look still on your face.

“What a lovely way to welcome our new friends,” Brian throws an arm over Roger’s shoulder before turning to you. “We may have made a slight wager on John’s most recent Pop Quiz appearance.”

“Slight?” Freddie smirks. “My new Gucci loafers would disagree, darling.”

Roger lets out an incoherent grumble. “Well, he usually fucks it up, doesn’t he? That is until you snuck in there.”

“I’m… sorry?” you offer, failing to find a witty remark for the situation.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me. I’ve been looking for someone to help me bury the bodies, or do my taxes, or be on call if I perhaps fancied a shag in the middle of the night?” he raises his brows in an overtly teasing manner.

You let out a sharp snort. “Fancy a shag? God, that sounds so much better than “ya wanna go fuck?”

Roger chuckles heartily, “Alright, alright. It was touch and go there for a bit, but I’ve come ‘round. I like this one. She can stay.”

“Y’know, we made a bet of sorts as well,” Lawrence reveals with a mischievous grin. The men all look to him, intrigued. “How long Y/N could keep her cool around that bassist of yours. She failed miserably, and now we shall reap the benefits by teasing her mercilessly until the end of time.”

You swear your mouth couldn’t have dropped open faster. Really need to work on that poker face, you tell yourself.

“Someone was trying to be cool around Deacy? Are you sure you’ve met the man?” Brian laughs.

Staring blankly around, all you know is you need to get out of this situation fast. “I need to pee,” you announce loudly. Really, Y/N? “Excuse me.”

Quickly ducking out of the room before anyone can say anything, you lean your back up against the wall in the hallway as you collect your swimming thoughts. What was it about this band that made you get all dumbstruck? Truth be told, you weren’t usually a timid person. Sure, everyone had bouts of social anxiety now and again, but you navigated social interactions seamlessly for the most part. It had always been easy for you to make friends or crack a quick comeback at a joke. Teasing was a form of endearment where you came from. But ever since you’d entered this new world, it was as if you were a stranger in your body. Who happened to be almost mute apparently. You push yourself off the wall to find a bathroom, your mind still fully occupied by your inner ramblings.

“Points!” a roadie shouts at you, trying to get your attention as they push a cart of cumbersome looking sound equipment right into your path. Before you have time to react, two hands grip your waist and pull you back to your previous position against the wall. 

Once again, you are face to face with a familiar chest. You watch as a light chuckle rumbles through it.

“I know it’s cheesy to say, but we have to stop meeting like this. Or do you make it a point to always bumble about in narrow hallways?” John pulls his hands back to his side as you meet his attractive colored eyes, amusement flickering in them. 

“John. Hi,” is all you manage.

“Good to see you again, Y/N. Freddie mentioned you all might be stopping by. Glad you could make it.”

You try and will your new persona not to take hold, but all you can do is smile meekly at him. He regards you patiently, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes, very much,” you rush out quickly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. The Garden’s not an easy place to play.”

“Thank you. You’re kind," he smiles bashfully. "The crowds in New York are some of my favorites. I wish we got the chance to spend more time here, but it seems we’re always passing through.”

“Am I interrupting?” Freddie asks with raised eyebrows from the doorway, a grin on his face.

John makes his way over to him. “Not at all. Just heroically saving Y/N from a near-death run-in with Ratty.”

“Sounds about right,” Freddie muses. “Now, if we’re all safe and sound, I’d like to get out of here. I’m positively starving.”

“Where to?” John asks.

“I want to go someplace real New Yorkers go,” he looks to you expectantly.

“Bun-bun?” you hear from inside before Steve pokes his head around Fred.

“Is your grandpa working tonight?”

- - - - - - -

Even John knew of Elaine’s. He’d hadn’t heard about it because the notable food, but rather the wide variety of clientele it boasted. Writers, directors, actors, and musicians alike frequently filled the establishment for the ambiance and lively conversation. Freddie would love it.

The large group enters through the wood door under a large awning, immediately hit by a wall of sound. The small place is packed to the brim. Raucous laughter can be heard from most tables as the patrons sardine together, shouting over one another. It had a certain charm, he guessed, taking in the decor of signed book covers and hand-painted murals.

“Bambina!” A small italian-looking maitre d' steps from behind the counter and spreads his arms wide as he engulfs Y/N into a hug. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by tonight.”

“Sorry, Papa. It was last minute. Just in time for the 10:30 rush by the looks of it.”

An infectiously warm smile spreads across his face. “Do you see me complaining? You hardly visit anymore now that you’re running around the world with that guitar. I’m so proud of you,” he adds softly, kissing her forehead. “Look at these boys!” he greets the rest of The Limbs like family, clapping each man on the back with love. “Am I shrinking already, or are all you still growing?”

“Probably a little of both, Dom,” Eddie laughs with the old man.

“And there’s even more, I see,” he inquires, finally noticing Queen.

It was unusual for them not to be the center of attention in any given situation, all of them hanging back except for Freddie, who marches right up to the man and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Freddie Mercury, a dear friend of your Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

He looks to Y/N suspiciously. “Are they musicians? You know what happened that one time. I had to pry Elaine off of beating that tiny Mickey guy. I’m telling ya, it was ugly.”

“Not Mickey- Mick, Papa. How many times do I have to tell you?” Y/N shushes him, looking a bit embarrassed.

Dom waves his hand at her, “Whoever he is, that kid owes me his life. I expect these ones to behave.”

Roger snorts from the back, “Not very likely.”

“We promise,” Freddie swears. “And might I say, I love the suit. Very dashing,” he adds on for good measure.

“Well, how else do you think I got this job?” Dom smiles at him with a wink. “C’mon,” he gestures for all to follow as he leads them through the narrow restaurant, to a long table in the back. “Enjoy, boys,” he tells them as he heads back to his post up front, kissing Y/N on the cheek before leaving.

“Come sit next to me, my love,” Freddie calls to Y/N, patting the seat beside him. “If any of your other family members are as outrageous as that man, I want to hear all about them.”

The group moves to squish in around the table. Roger silently catches John’s eye and motions to the seat next to Y/N. He quirks his brows at him, confused, but makes his way to sit between them.

Eddie has taken his rightful place next to Brian with Rich in tow, the three already in deep conversation about the current music scene. Lawrence and Roger sit opposite each other, tearing into the bread basket and chatting about the show. Next to Freddie, Steve is eagerly hanging onto every word he says as he chats to Y/N about her upbringing.

“I’m just hoping one day we get to do something like that, man. Our show on Sunday should be a pretty big deal, though,” Lawrence tells Roger.

“Where are you playing? CBGB? The Palladium?” 

“Nah, we’re playing out on the island. Jones Beach.”

“Huh, Long Island. We’ve never been to Long Island before,” Roger ponders, intrigued. “What’s there to do on Long Island?”

“Well, do you like bowling? Strip malls?” Lawrence pauses for effect. “Bowling at strip malls?”

John lightly chuckles. An arm brushes his shoulder, and he moves back slightly as a large woman weaves her hands around Y/N’s shoulders.

“My little Y/N has come back to us! And surrounded by even more devilishly handsome men than usual.”

Y/N turns around in her seat to give the woman a proper hug. “Elaine! It’s been too long.”

“Let me get a good look at you,” she gestures for Y/N to spin as she regards her. “If you need help beating em’ off of ya, I have my bat behind the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, teasingly, “Don’t I know it. I have a vivid childhood memory of you chasing Ron Galella around the dining room with that thing.”

She lets out a larger than life laugh at the memory, patting the young girl on the back. “Oh, those were the good years. So, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friends?”

“Elaine! I’m hurt you don’t remember our beautiful time together,” Eddie teases her from the table's end.

“Shut it, Eddie,” she reprimands him with a point of her stubby finger.

Y/N turns to the group, spreading her arms wide. “Guys, this is Elaine Kaufman, of Eliane’s, obviously. Elaine, this is Queen.”

She attempts a half-hearted curtsey. “Your majesties. Welcome.”

Before long, Elaine has pulled up a chair as she cracks dirty jokes back and forth with Freddie, which has the rest of the group (and some nearby diners) howling in laughter. Y/N’s now-familiar cackle sends tingles through John’s body once again. She’s more relaxed than he’s previously seen her be. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, showcasing her broad smile as she looks on fondly, hands waving about whenever she joins in the conversation. Her face is mostly free of makeup and he catches the hint of a dimple on one of her cheeks as she glances over at him to share in a joke.

Freddie gasps as he catches someone entering the front door. “Is that Shirley MacLaine? Slap my ass and call me Sally, that woman does not age.”

“Come with me,” Elaine says, rising from her chair. “I think she’ll like you.”

Food appears without any of them having to order, along with bottles of wine Elaine insisted they’d love. John tentatively takes a bite of one of the dishes set before him.

“Oh god,” he blurts out upon tasting.

Y/N snickers beside him. “Bad, right? I recommend the tortellini if you want something remotely edible.” She pushes a plate towards him, snagging some for herself.

He gulps down water, trying to rid himself of the bland taste. “I would ask why this place is packed, but it seems I’ve already met her.”

“And you would be right. She’s a riot, but I fully blame her for my vulgar vocabulary,” she reveals, taking a giant bite of pasta.

“You and Freddie seem to have that in common.”

Y/N chews slowly as she muses over that sentiment. “That seems to be the only thing we have in common,” she says softly. He cocks his head at her in question.

“It’s just,” she starts, a somber look replacing her previously buoyant one. “Watching him on stage tonight. All of you actually. You seem so free, so comfortable up there. And Freddie is just magnetic, you know that. It’s as if he makes the crowd fall in love with him again and again with every song. I could never do that…”

“I find that quite hard to believe,” he mumbles, continuing on quickly. “Freddie’s a performer. Everything he does up there is for that crowd. Whereas I’m just a musician, I think. It probably helps that I don’t sing. It'll just take some time to find your footing. You don’t have to be both. You don't have to be either for that matter.”

She scoffs lightly, pushing the food around on her plate. “Don’t I? Ever since this all began, I feel like I’m some paper doll or something. People just dress me up and mold me into what they want. And I go right along with it because I don’t even recognize this version of myself if I’m being honest. So I just keep that mask on until I get back home and I can finally breathe. Because then, at least I don’t have to stare at a stranger in the mirror anymore.” 

She breaks out of the daze she fell into while rambling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t unload on you like this,” she catches herself. “I guess I just had a very different assumption of what my life would look like... I think I'm afraid of losing who I am in all this."

John takes her in, catching glimpses of his former self in her cracks. He itches to soothe her distress. “I can understand,” he tells her sympathetically. “Hell, I thought I was joining a band to play with on the side at uni and look at us now. Sometimes I still feel like I’m leading a double life. I tried to convince myself all this was just a job at first, but I’m sure you’re finding out quickly that’s not always true.”

Y/N looks at him intently, and it’s the first time he truly sees the depth of her eyes. He clears his throat before continuing.

“I've come to learn that the concept of home is a funny thing. For a long time, I held onto the idea of it that I always had for myself, but it’s harder than it looks with what we do,” he sighs, running a hand through his short curls, not wanting to dwell too long on his unpleasent situation back in England. 

“But home can be anything really. It can be people,” he says, glancing at his bandmates. “Or even the stage, which sometimes I think is Freddie’s. Or you can be Roger, and make yourself at home wherever you go.”

They glance over at Rog, who is in the middle of an animated story, waving his glass of wine around as it drips on the tablecloth.

“So all you can do is find whatever that home is and hold onto it the best you can. And it might change, but that doesn't mean you have to," he nudges her shoulder with his.

Y/N smiles down at her lap. “Thank you,” she tells him quietly, still swimming in her own thoughts.

“Of course,” he assures, pausing to breathe- not used to giving long-winded explanations. Nervous that he’s pushed too far, he glances over, catching as her shoulders relax.

The restaurant was mostly cleared out by now, save for a few regulars sitting at the tall wood bar. The staff chats casually amongst themselves as they clean off empty tables for the night. Steve is giving Freddie details of the New York club scene, probably hoping to earn himself an invitation one day. Elaine’s regaling Brian, Eddie, and Rich with a story about two writers and a feud of accused plagiarism. Lawrence and Roger were currently attempting to turn their napkins into amusing hats for each other. John finds himself enjoying the young band's presence, their chaotic energy seeming to match Queen’s dynamic quite well.

The group collectively jumps as the music drastically raises in volume, the intro of Ray Charles’ ‘Hallelujah, I Love Her So’ pouring out.

“Oh god, no,” Y/N groans next to him as the waiters all turn their attention to her. Dom appears beside her with an outstretched hand. “Papa, not now, please.”

“Indulge your grandfather, Y/N,” he winks at her as she reluctantly takes his hand, pulling her to the middle of the room. John’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as the old man springs to life, twirling his granddaughter around the room with ease. The pure spryness of someone that age was genuinely shocking.

“Oh, this is fabulous!” Freddie laughs as he leans his chin forward on his hands.

And it was. The staff cheers, hinting that this was a familiar routine for them. The rest of The Limbs sing along with the track, watching the two affectionately like old family.

Y/N’s apprehensive look fades away as she gives in to the fun, pure joy flashing across her features as she glides along, following her grandfather in the swing dance rather gracefully. She looks free, John thinks to himself, drinking in the true version of the young woman. She was dazzling as her hair fell messily from her ponytail and her laugh was louder than ever as Dom dips her low to the floor, her body bending with him. If this was home, he could see why she was reluctant to leave it behind.

He’s mesmerized by her every movement. She was still an enigma to him, each detail he pulled from her, just making him hungry for more. 

You shouldn’t. You’re still married. Well, technically. Papers aren’t signed yet.

“Alright, I’m convinced,” Roger shouts at Lawrence. “Looks like we'll have to stop in Long Island.”

- - - - - - -

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Brian announces, burrowing further into his white windbreaker.

The Jones Beach Theater was tucked right up to the shoreline, causing the spray of the Atlantic to chill the air despite the summer heat. John had never seen a venue like it. It’s as if the vast sea acted as an extended backdrop to the stage, reflecting the stars and inky drape of the night.

The crowd didn’t seem to mind at all. They had been brilliant the entire night, singing along to every one of the songs and dancing in full force. It was perfectly clear how proud they were of their hometown heroes.

The Limbs themselves were a sight to behold from the wings of the stage. The energy from the packed seats had bled over, and all 5 members were indeed feeling it. They had been in perfect sync with each other the entire show, and John was certainly amused by their own way of interacting with their audience. It mostly consisted of them hurling humorous insults back and forth to each other in between songs.

Even Y/N seemed to be enjoying herself, despite her confession the other night. She had taken Freddie’s note that he’d given after seeing her dance and was now stepping out from behind the mic stand for her songs. She slinked around the stage effortlessly, interacting with the other members and the crowd, much to their glee.

“Before we say goodnight to you all, we’d like to leave you with a little something,” Rich calls out over the deafening cheers. “A lullaby of sorts from one of our favorites.”

Y/N drags a stool out to the center of the stage as Lawrence begins a somber melody on the keyboard. The audiences erupts in cheers and John recognizes it as a Billy Joel song.

She takes a seat behind the mic as she gazes out over the crowd. The exhilarated face she had been sporting all night was gone, a shade of melancholy in its place now.

Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you’ve been asking me

I think you know what I’ve been trying to say

Her hypnotic voice pierces through the now-silent crowd. The type of voice you immediately feel in your chest, as if it’s personally strumming your heartstrings. No one dares to sing along, afraid they'll miss a moment of her inflection.

I promised I would never leave you

Then you should always know

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are

I never will be far away

The familiar sight of lighters being illuminated flickers through the sea of people before them, casting a hazy glow on the previously faceless patrons. Their peaceful stares fixed on Y/N, entranced as if she was siren of sorts.

Goodnight my angel, now it’s time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me

Her voice breaks a bit, giving away the glassiness of her eyes. They’re not fixed on the crowd, but instead on the sky beyond them. John watches the panes of her face intently. She wasn’t singing to them, he realizes. This was to herself. Possibly to that image in her mind, she had confided in him, the one she was struggling to leave behind—her piece of home.

Someday we’ll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

“She’s going to be something else, isn’t she?” Freddie asks, mostly to himself.

They never die

That’s how you and I will be

John watches as a single tear slips off the slope of her nose as she finishes, bowing her head.

“Yeah, I think she is.”

[a-real-ackerman]

Perfect Scenario

Sherlock Fanfic

summary: You, a super human, an excellent actor and a liar with debatable ethics; are having a hard time overcoming feelings  no one new you were capable of. On top of it, you have to deal with your “arch enemy” who has dedicated himself on the way of ruining your chances at your new life.

pairing: Sherlock x superhuman!Reader 

warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of suicide, violence, language and horrible mistakes... I dunno, I will write a current warning in red on every chapter.

A/N: Even tho I think Sherlock as an asexual character or not interested etc, I find working with well-known characters and less OC’s quite useful. Also, I see a lot of me in him so I will be writing about him more. Also, the reader is female. Also, gifs are never mine, all credits for those talented people. By the way, in case you see my mistakes don’t be shy, let me know! I am trying to improve my English.

Chapter One: “Trembling Hands.”

      “You don’t know who you are, unlike me.” was written on the card  you  recently received. Menacing words written in an elegant handwriting, appeared by your window, every morning since last Friday. there you stood by your counter, your e/c eyes wandering over the same simple words again and again, in a hopeless struggle to find any clues. You did not know what they wanted or cared about; what part of you they assumed they knew? Your super powers? Your business? Your therapist? Your past? Your parents’ death? All the lies you have been telling whole the time? 

      What you could analyse from each of these notes were the fact that they actually new about you. The words they choose were written in a friendly manner which told you that even tho you have never met them, they knew enough to consider themselves close to you. 

      You had a few assumptions on who they could be:

A secret admirer, in a sense, stalker

A conspiracy theorist who have witnessed your... condition?

One of the investigator who had researched you in your teens

Jimmy

     No matter which one they were,(more likely to be a he), he was a stalker. You did not like stalkers. But you were interested in this one’s motive. You wanted to beat their game before they could put their filthy obsessive hands on your very new and clean life.

     Hopping off the counter, you rushed into the living room and put the card on the brown coffee stand in the middle of the room, right next to others. Walking trough cold blue walls of you flat, you kept mentally checking the places you usually control, in case there were cameras. You were going to take a shower after all.

          “I have to ask him first,” said the man on the line, Holmes’ face shot a fake kind smile as he was face to face with the doctor. “ tell my brother I said hi.”

         Doctor threw a look at the phone in disbelief as Holmes hang up the phone. Sherlock was not in his mood for a new case. Especially not a case from his brother, which involves scammers, government, some mafia and a class action lawsuit that could bring them a big amount of money. The detective was too busy in his mind palace.

        John entered the flat and found his flatmate already waiting for him, sat on his chair with hands in praying position, eyes boring into him like he’s trying to ask something.

       Uncomfortable under the gaze, “Yes, Sherlock ask away.” sighed John.

       “John,” said Sherlock, “I have a suggestion.”

        John looked at him in suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

        “How about going out to see a play tonight?”

         John exhaled out of surprise to his friend’s suggestion, was he asking him on a date? For a case (of course)? 

          “Don’t worry John, about whatever you thought of-I don’t’ prefer to vocalise it. I think we may have a new case, which includes the leading actor. She seems to play a big part in this case as much as the play. I also want to witness myself if she was as good as they talked about.”

         “It’s okay, Sherlock, just for once.”

         Sherlock baffled,” What do you mean by ‘just once’? This is a case just like the others, you don’t want to solve cases anymore?”

         “No,” insisted John, “All I’m saying is: it’s okay to be a human just for once.It’s okay to take interest in a play, film or a person-”

         “-I AM NOT INTERESTED,JOHN,”

         It was too late to deny, John was already going upstairs, with a smug smirk of a self-proud mother who has just embarrassed their teenager.

         You have once again saluted the audience, holding hands with your teammates. A little stronger than usual maybe, you didn’t want to throw the decors and people off the stage. Your hands were trembling more since you couldn’t stop the seconds passing; and your head got dizzier every movement, with the help of flashing stage lights. Mavis, your co-actor since high school, leaned over your ear; “You always get so excited when it ends!” she whispered without knowing anything.

       You shot your perfect, warmest smile as your eyes wandered around the place in case anyone was suspicious. You locked your eyes with an awfully familiar man around your age, with curly hair falling on his forehead and eyes piercing onto you. He knew, he knew something and made it clear. He knew you.

”There she is,” you saw him whispering to his friend. You could listen to them is you focused enough, thanks to not being so human.

         But you choose to not hear anything.Thanks to your instincts being quite active this afternoon, every word had felt no different than a knife stabbing her ears. All of this pain was because you couldn’t use your power today. You were a bomb waiting to explode, your hands itching to throw people to the walls and your screams desired to ruin every window in the city. 

     The torture soon ends, but always leaves you shaken up. You turned from the left corner of the entrance of the theatre and entered the cafe where you have tea every night after performance. You didn’t die to drink it every night actually, yet the calming mix thing of this cafe could put an angry elephant down. Naturally, you could calm down too. It eased your nerves and relaxed your muscles which helped you overcoming your power. I you didn’t bother to control your powers, let’s say, no one nearby could survive.

    Whatever, you took your usual seat and smiled at the kind young waiter. You knew each other now, so you didn’t have to talk.(dreamy isn’t it? not having to talk?) You looked out of the window, watching the shiny cars passing by and colourful lights dancing. You slowly turned to the man who just sat in front of you, his arms crossed on the table and eyes gazing you in a weird expression between curious and astonished. Admiring and contemptuous. Familiar and hateful. Friendly and strange.

    “I have to say I am totally astonished by your acting,” he started. You were right about astonished. You smiled firmly, just because this one was choosing his words firmly. If he is one of those creeps you would send him off. But you had to be careful these days, anyone could lead you to the stalker.

    “You come here often.”

    “Yes, it’s not new. Everyone who has taken interest in stalking me knows.”

     He let out a chuckle which you didn’t expect to be this natural.”Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Ironic, since I have come to apologise for making you uncomfortable.”

    His gaze took a lovely, apologising, soft form, which could melt your heart if you didn’t realise him checking for your expressions in between seconds. He was trying to impress you, for what?

    “It’s not very comforting of you when you follow me to a cafe.”

    “So it did,” he said, paying too much attention on your hands while you reached out to your tea.

    “Is he bothering you miss?” asked the waiter protectively, his voice a few octave deeper than usual.

    “I am fine, thank you Oscar.” you watched him walking away with a nod.”So what did what?”

    “Me. Looking at you. You noticed me in hundreds of people. You saw us talking about you.”

    “Please don’t start with that ‘love-at-first-sight-soulmate’ shit.” 

    “I was actually going to start with ‘you-somehow-know-you-are-in-danger’ shit.”

     Your mouth dropped with his super sassy mic drop. You had to be clueless, oblivious and self centred now. You were a normal person now.

     “Is this a threat? I am amused.” you smirked, don’t let them him the fear.

     “No,” he rolled his eyes, “This is an offer.”

      “I am Sherlock Holmes.”

      “OH!” you relaxed, “I know you, (y/n)(s/n).” you answered shaking his hand.

"Come on, drink it. You seem to be dying for it."

   You reached to the cuppa, not being able to hide your hands. As soon as this herbal smell filled your nose and followed it's way to your heart, a soft needy smile appeared on your lips. You felt your muscles getting back to normal.You opened your eyes.

"Now look," you threatened suddenly," if you are here to investigate my parents' death and sue me for it..."

He was more focused now, his gaze melted down to a more intense, even a curious one.

"I am tired. I am tired of this. For all my teenage years, my past, people defined me as a liar. So keep going, keep evoking my traumas. You won’t find what you’re looking for."

"There is a huge misunderstanding, "

He comforted you, leaning more onto the table, you almost loved this caring facade, a pair of eyes; signing no danger, no threat but just a simple caring feeling, were more than enough to let your guard down and believing someone. Just this once.

"I don't want to sue you. I offer you my help. Someone has opened your case again."

This was too much for you, with all energy trapped in your body your heart started to ache, your hands trembling in a way no one could stop.

"Trembling hands."

"What?"

"Show them."

You obeyed, held them up in front of him.

"I thought tea would help you."

"It does. When no one triggers me."

"Everything could trigger you. You live alone in the house your very own parents committed suicide. You don't even have pets which is surprising because you love animals, judging by a different cat and dog fur on your pants, coat, jumper, pretty much everywhere. You also have been avoiding your therapist, judging by the notification sound that you didn't answer after seeing the name. And no, it can not be your lover because you are alone live alone and have no attempt on your physical self-care, in addition, the cafe you go nearly every day or your friend group doesn't look for someone else after you arrive on your own. But those are not clear assumptions, knowing what your parents like is enough to assume you prefer to be single. You are alone for a reason. You think you’re dangerous.

So you live alone, have no one, and Scotland Yard is investigating you. You get stalked and for a reason, you always stay sharp and have a very defensive observant personality.

You are interesting enough for me. I will take your case."

"Is this a nerd way of asking for my number? If it is I will say yes."

"No, it's better, it is a smart way to interest you."

" What for? Why will you help me?"

" Because there is a game waiting for me,” he sighed, “and I am bored."

"Fine, this is my number here-"

"I already have it!"

Then he rushed out, putting his collars up, ruffling his hair.

A/N: I want to thank @fanfictionislovefanfictioni-blog​ for the request! 

[bewareofchris]

Writing advice on How to write an interesting antagonist, please?

sorry about the day-late reply.  I’d like to say that I was thinking up a really good answer but also my sinuses are trying to kill me.

OK, so there are a few key points that you should remember when it comes an interesting antagonist.  (These will be listed in no particular order.)

Purpose: what sort of antagonist do you need?  If you’re writing a rom-com you don’t need a supervillain.  

C o n v i c t i o n.  This means that whatever your antagonist is doing to hinder your story/protag it needs to come from the POV of a person who is trying to accomplish something.  Any antagonist who only exists to say mean things to your character without any sort of personal goal will fall flat in the long run.  Yes, it might really hurt if you get stabbed in the back by Laughing McMeanpants but if McMeanpants is just doing it to be a bother and gains nothing it just seems pointless.  

A fully developed Character.  I know this one seems almost obvious but here me out.  We spend a lot of time with our protagonists.  We love them.  We sometimes throw them into pits full of salt-covered razor blades but that comes from a place of love.  I’m not saying that you have to love your antagonist to successfully have one, but you should try it.  The most interesting antagonists are the ones that are only wrong by virtue of being on the losing side?  Like, they have SUCH A GOOD POINT and SUCH VALID reasons for doing what they are doing that you almost, a little bit, kind of want them to win.  (There are also the sort of antagonists that just want to watch the world burn and those you don’t want to win but you still sort of root for when nobody’s looking because they are a force of nature.)  Let your Antagonist has a life.  A history.  Loved ones.  Interests.  Hobbies.  Favorite foods.  A day job?  Petty rivalries.  Accomplishments.  Weaknesses that aren’t just used for destroying them.  Random skills like whistling and that weird tongue-folding thing people do.

A REASONABLE LEVEL OF POWER FOR YOUR STORY’S SETTING.  Look, as much as I love a good ol’team up for the win story, if you’ve given your antagonist the literal power of the gods, you’re not really making him work for it are you?  Maybe what’s interesting about your antagonist is that they did work their ass off to be where they are?  Maybe whatever power they had didn’t come naturally.  People are a lot more likely to defend something they had to scratch, claw, bite and kill to get then they are something that was just given to them?  And who doesn’t secretly want the guy who had to spend 20 years collecting gemstones while being laughed at by the village virgins and sleeping in shit to win when he’s up against The Golden Child who Happened To Find A Dragon Egg?  

Self Worth and Ego. Nobody considers themselves the villain of their own story.  They probably don’t sit around drinking their wine being like, whose such an evil boy?  I’m such an evil boy.  They’re out there being like: what the hell is wrong with Johnny Goodguy?  WHY IS HE SO ANNOYING.  And or they’re super stressed, forgetting to wash their hair in the shower, trying to figure out how to out think Johnny Goodguy.  If both your protag and antagonist aren’t literally furious about the other one always doing something wrong, you’re not being fair to one of them. 

Consistency.   Don’t fall into that trap where the antagonist twirls their mustache while talking about sawing James Bond in half but leaves him unattended because he’s squeamish I guess?  If your antagonist is the sort of person whose going to saw someone in half, he’s probably he sort of person whose going to stick around and make sure it gets done right.  If you do not want your antagonist to win, do not set up a practically inescapable trap and then have your protag escape because of negligence.  RESPECT YOUR ANTAGONIST.  They have a giant saw machine for a reason.  It’s because they use it.  They probably also have an incinerator in the basement!  If Jimmy wants to escape he better be the most clever person alive or JUST NOT GET CAUGHT.

Let’s repeat that last bit: Respect your antagonist.  Even if your protagonist hates him.  Even if antagonist is REVOLTING.  Even if he is a murderous baby killer out here eating newborn and puppy soup for breakfast while cheating on his taxes and cutting to the front of the Starbucks line, he is USELESS as a villain/antagonist if you aren’t taking him seriously.  If your antagonist is just there to make your protag feel bad with quippy insults, then your protag needs to feel bad when he sees them.  If your antagonist is out here destroying planets, people need to be afraid of him.  And not like, oh he’s so bad but I guess I’ll just kill him anyway because i”m the hero and I fear nothing.  Bravery is not the absence of fear.  Having your badass protagonist not care just undermines the worth of your antagonist.

Now, how to put these to use in the story very much depends on what sort of antagonist that you’re using, how important they are to the story and how much time you’re putting into it/how long it is.  A 2k rom-com with a one-off a-hole doesn’t really need as much devotion as a 200k epic sci-fi fantasy thriller.  

But some quick suggestions:

Gossip. A well placed bit of gossip about the antagonist of your choice is an excellent method of adding in a sprinkle of backstory without having to listen to a villain-ish monologue.  And it doesn’t even have to be outright backstory?  It can just be fun things like, “i bet he’s the kind of guy that eats baby turtles” “he eats oranges with he peels on.” “His ex-wife moved to Alaska to get away from him.” “Not even a blind dog would lick his hand.”  You know, general impressions of his character that indicate he is universally disliked.

Begrudging Compliments/Unintentional Acts of Kindness Think of “i hate that guy but you gotta admit he draws Lisa Frank tigers better than Lisa Frank.”  Or “everyone was going to get fired because nobody finished this work project but Asshole K Asshole showed up at the last minute and finished it so we’re all still here.”  MAKE YOUR PROTAG HAVE TO THANK YOUR ANTAGONIST AND IT’S ALL THE MORE REASON TO HATE THEM.

An acceptable level of villain, progressing from smallest to largest Remember the way to build dread/suspense/fear is to always leave room to get worse.  Do not, I BEG YOU, do NOT start off your antagonist by making them the most unreasonable/over the top/absolutely most violent thing you can imagine?  Do not show up to a casual drink party with a fire-starting child killer edgelord drinking blood out of a can while shouting slurs at minorities and proclaiming himself king of the universe.  Maybe he just shows up to the party looking arrogant, and belligerently dismisses your protag while effortlessly making everyone like him more?  And then later he starts setting things on fire.  Like at the end of the story.  Set a starting place (minimally shocking but morally unacceptable action) and an ending place (shocking but not surprising and morally reprehensible/repugnant/just like the worst action(s)).

He’s enjoying himself/but also it’s a hassle.  People like winning.  Everyone likes winning.  It doesn’t even matter what you’re winning.  A popularity contest?  Control over the universe?  Soccer?  You’re winning, it’s great, you like it.  It’s a high, you want to keep it, and while you’re there why not rub it in a little that you’re like FANTASTIC.  So Antagonist, whose on top because he’s a fucking winner?  He’s going to enjoy it, and he’s going to want to hang onto that sweet sweet winner kool-aid as long as he can.  But there’s a price to literally being driven to win/hang onto that and it’s exhaustion.  Constantly having to stay in power requires constantly having to mutate to fit the needs of being powerful.  It’s not one-and-done because as soon as you are winning someone’s offended by it and they are coming to take your throne.  Even the people who are riding your coattails are expecting something from you.  And if you’ve used fear to get where you are, you have to maintain that level of fear at all times which means constantly showing up being all threatening and unpleasant.  These things are exhausting.  A man’s got to sleep and he can’t sleep well when he’s having to cut off his lackey’s fingers every other day so people now he’s a Bad Dude.  And now he’s got Protag to deal with?  MY GOD WILL IT EVER END.  Balance your antagonist’s joy at succeeding with his very real physical and emotional limitations.  Don’t let him have effortless control over whatever power he has, let there be cracks all through the base of his empire.  Let just a smidgen of doubt sneak in.  (Maybe he’s on steroids.  I bet he cheats at cards.  Nobody’s that big of a dick all the time.  His Mom cannot be happy about him.)

Always, always, always maintain that your Antagonist COULD FAIL A lot of time is spent in stories building up your hero so he’s big enough to defeat whatever’s standing in his way.  One of the methods of doing that is by comparing him to the Bigger, Badder, usually Better/More Powerful Antagonist.  This creates a lovely structure for super heroes that gets very old very quick.  You don’t need to climb the oldest mountain in the world to retrieve the Pearl of Wisdom and Good Teeth to finally have enough Inner Peace to lose your braces after 11 years so you can defeat the high school bully.  Create an antagonist that is Bad and In Your Way but also human-enough (or equivalent) to be defeated.  You NEVER have to say this outright in the story.  You just have to remember in writing him that he isn’t the Most Powerful Thing To Live.  Even if people call him the Most Powerful Thing To Live, throw in the idea that he’s only the most powerful right now.  That he had to defeat someone to be the most powerful, and that shows that eventually something will defeat him.  If your antagonist isn’t having to work to stay where he’s at, he’s boring.

In summary:

Antagonist need character.  A full character with strengths/weaknesses/backstory/goals.  They need to fully want those goals and be willing to work as hard as your hero to get it.  They need to truly believe they have the right to their goal and/or that their goal is the RIGHT ONE.  You need to respect your antagonist as if he were your protagonist and not write him as a crazy-faced crazypants to make your Hero look good.  Antagonists have physical and emotional limitations.  They will react according to their developed Character.  Do not make them lazy/negligent at the last moment to save your hero.  And you should love them, just a little, not because they’re good people but because they’re your baby.

[uas-art]

Title: Aren't You...? Rating: T Summary: For every advantage not having a secret identity had, there was always a disadvantage he had to deal with as well. Ships: Jyle mentioned past Kydi Other: Superhero AU

Read on ao3

~~~~

The train car was mostly empty, which left Jimmy somewhat disappointed. Sitting around on the train to people watch gave him some of his best bits.

Where would the name 'Jimmy Valmer' be in the comedian circles if he didn't have his Bible Throw Down story?

Of course, the story itself had some embellishment to it, but it wasn't fully made-up. Jimmy was witness to two old women getting up in each other's faces, and one of them did raise her Bible to smack the other, but the fight didn't escalate as far as Jimmy's routine claimed.

Fastpass stepped in before that could happen.

He shouldn't be too surprised at the emptiness of the train, really. It was late, and this train didn't run between any major factories or nightclubs.

The only other passengers were a person sleeping in the corner, a bottle in a paper bag between her shoes, and another person sitting in the middle of the car, staring down at his phone.

Jimmy slipped into a seat and took off his crutches. He set them beside him before leaning back and shutting his eyes.

Maybe this was a blessing, more so than the Bible Throw Down, even. Some quiet time would do him good.

It seemed that lately, the city was more chaotic than normal: crime was on the rise, villains with superpowers kept popping up, not to mention the recent bout of fights and arguing amongst the city's heroes.

Just a week ago, Mosquito and ToolShed got into a spat over something or another and fucked up a local park. The media was still having a field day with that story.

All the heroes have been staying on their best behavior since then in an attempt to keep their reputations on the up and up. Jimmy included. That was the main reason he wasn't running home. The last thing he needed was the tabloids getting wind that he had gotten another speeding ticket or that he'd broken traffic laws again.

"Um, hey, excuse me?"

Jimmy opened his eyes. The person who was sitting in the middle of the train now stood in front of him.

"Yeah?" Jimmy shifted so he was sitting up straight.

"Are you..." The person paused a moment, and Jimmy reflexively tensed for what was coming.

'Are you the Fastpass?’

For every advantage not having a secret identity had, there was always a disadvantage he had to deal with as well. This particular disadvantage was his least favorite.

Everyone knew him as 'Fastpass', the speedy fighter for justice first and foremost, not 'Jimmy Valmer,' stand up comedian, or 'Jimmy Valmer,' newspaper reporter. Jimmy was proud of the good he'd done as Fastpass, but the fact it erased all his other accomplishments annoyed him to no end.

There wasn't much he could do to prevent it though, so instead he prepared for the onslaught of usual questions.

"You're Jimmy Valmer, right?"

Jimmy blinked. His brain froze a moment before the word sunk in.

"Y-yes. That's me!" Jimmy brightened. He held out his hand with a grin. "And you?"

The person grinned back before taking his hand and shaking. "Kyle. It's so cool to meet you."

"Likewise," Jimmy replied, "I love meeting fans!" He paused a moment, before picking up his crutches from the seat beside him and moved them so they were between his knees.

"Wanna take a seat and ch-chat?" He patted the seat beside him.

Kyle looked apprehensive until Jimmy flashed an encouraging smile, then he slipped into the seat.

"So, what brings you out on this glorious night? The am-amb-ambiance of the train or the company?" Jimmy waved his hand to the train drunk in the corner.

Kyle covered his smile. "I'm heading home from a friend's house, actually. He just moved out from his ex-girlfriend's, and he's still getting over it."

"Ah," Jimmy nodded, "A br-broken heart can change a good man in so many ways."

Kyle snorted. "He'll get over it. He's just pissed a friend told his ex something he'd said in confidence about her." He shook his head.

Jimmy rested his chin on his crutches. In his mind's eye, he replayed the argument between Mosquito and ToolShed. Apparently, the argument started after Mosquito mentioned some less than savory information about Shed to Call Girl.

It was almost funny how something so ordinary could cause so much damage among super powered men.

"I hope he and his friends, girl or o-otherwise, can work everything out." Jimmy offered.

"Yeah," Kyle sighed, a forlorn look crossing his face.

"Something the matter, buddy?" Jimmy asked.

Kyle jumped. "Oh! No, no, I just--it's nothing. Personal stuff. A stranger like you wouldn't want to hear about it."

Jimmy turned his head to the side. "Strangers? We know each other's names, that makes us p-prac-pra--pretty much family." His eyes twinkled. "You can expect me over for Christmas dinner with how close we are now!"

Kyle chuckled and shook his head. "I'm Jewish, actually."

"Oh, Hanukkah then," Jimmy corrected. "I'll show up all eight nights and bring a cheese p-platter. Besides," he elbowed him, "if something is bothering you, talking tends to help, if you want."

Kyle chewed his lip a moment. "This isn't going to be used in any of your shows if I tell you?"

Jimmy crossed his heart. "I would never. Scout's honor."

Taking a breath, Kyle slumped forward a bit. He ran his hand through his thick, red curls.

"My own girlfriend broke up with me recently as well." He admitted.

Jimmy frowned before reaching over and setting a comforting hand on his should. "I'm s-sorry. That must be difficult."

Kyle shrugged a little. "The reason I know who you are as a comedian is that I took Heidi to one of your shows for her birthday. She really likes your anecdotes." He smiled softly at the memory for a moment. "I'd only knew you as a superhero until then, but you're really funny."

"Out of the spandex and in, Jimmy Valmer loves to make people smile." Jimmy dropped his hand to his lap. "So, if you don't mind telling me, w-wh-what happened between you two?"

Kyle's smile fell. He looked down at his hands. "An old...'friend' of ours convinced her of some things about me that aren't true." When he said 'friend', he clenched his jaw for a heartbeat. "So, she left me, and I'm one hundred percent sure that jackass only told her what he told her because he's still in love with her."

"She and you're ex-friend were a thing?" Jimmy asked.

He nodded sharply. "Unfortunately." His hands clenched into fists. "It's not fair. I'm a thousand times better for her than him. He's just a manipulative asshole!"

For just a fraction of a second, Jimmy swore he saw Kyle's eyes flash with a red glow. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't place it.

Jimmy pushed the thought aside before he spoke. "I wish I could give you some advice here, but I th-think anything I have to say, you've probably already heard before."

Kyle let his shoulders slump forward. "You mean that sometimes people fall back into bad patterns? Or that bad people can hide how terrible they are?"

"Well, I was going to say you should try not to beat yourself up about it," Jimmy told him. "If this asshole is as bad as you say, then he wants you to feel t-terrible. If you instead stay strong and keep going on in your life, then you win."

Kyle blinked a few times as he mulled over Jimmy's words. "Yeah." He said slowly. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Jimmy flashed a smile. "And when everything c-cr-crashes and burns for him, Heidi will see you're still going strong and want to come back to someone who can actually be there for her."

Kyle's eyes sparkled. All the sorrow that plagued his posture seemed to lift, and he raised himself up straight. His lips turned upwards.

"Yeah, you're right. Heidi will see Cartman's an asshole sooner or later. Even if she doesn't want to date me anymore, at least I can be there for her to help, right? I'm still her friend, regardless."

"Hell yeah!" Jimmy pumped his fist up in solidarity.

The two shared wide grins before the train jerked to a stop. Kyle raised his head to look out the window to the station.

"Oh, it's my stop." He sounded a little disappointed. "I have to get home."

"Before you go!" Jimmy patted his pockets before pulling out a small notebook and pen. He flipped to a clean page then scribbled down a note before ripping it out.

Kyle took the note from his outstretched hand.

"What's this?"

"A ticket. If you ever need a smile, bring that to any of my shows," Jimmy explained. "Don't worry about security not letting you in. They know I do this all the time."

Kyle looked at the note then up at Jimmy. He nodded before folding it up and slipping it into his pocket.

"Thank you." Kyle waved as he headed out the door. "I'll be sure to drop by sometime soon."

"I l-look forward to seeing you!" Jimmy called, though the doors had already shut. He leaned back.

He wondered if Kyle would make up with his ex and start dating her again. If not, Jimmy thought he wouldn't mind trying to take Kyle out for a date himself. Someone like that didn't deserve to spend nights alone.

Especially when they didn't pigeonhole Jimmy as just a superhero but as a living, breathing, hilarious person.

A smile formed on his lips. He'd forgotten how nice it felt to be recognized for his personal talents, and not just his speed.

If Kyle showed up at his show, Jimmy vowed, he'd make sure he got a front row seat.

~~~~

AN: I headcanon in the superhero AU that at the very least Jimmy is Iron Man-ing it up and is totally out with his super and civilian IDs.

[writingsbychelle]

Musical Beer Revelations

Summary: Your cast mates let something slip ruing Musical Beers on Jimmy Fallon.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: by anon

Warnings: swear words and talk about sex times

Word Count: 932

     “We’re about to play a round of Musical Beers but we’re gonna need a few more players. So, joining us, from Avengers: Infinity War, are Falcon, Winter Soldier and (y/c/n). Please welcome Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan and (Y/N),” Jimmy Fallon introduced you, clapping alongside the audience and Chris Evans as you entered the studio.

     “Hi, thanks for being here,” Jimmy said as he gave every one of you a welcoming hug before you stood beside him, a big table before you.

     "Thanks for having us," you smiled after he hugged you.

     After explaining how the game works you assembled around the table, waiting for the music to start. Throwing little dance moves in between you quickly walked from one cup to the other, not wanting to embarrass yourself and end up without a cup in your hands when the music stopped.

     “Ah fuck,” Chris cursed as you emptied your cup and threw it in the hole in the middle of the table, Sebastian, Anthony and Jimmy following suit, leaving Chris empty-handed and having to join the DJ and watch you continue the game.

     “This is harder than I expected, man,” Anthony said as the music started again and you all got back to walking around the table, only three cups left for the four of you. 

     As suddenly the music got slower, sounding like it was going to stop, you got ready to grab the red plastic cup in front of you only for the music to continue. Looking to your right you saw Sebastian drinking the contents of the cup until he realised the music hadn’t stopped, the beer still inside his mouth.

     “Spit it back, spit it back,” Jimmy told him as the audience laughed along with you and Anthony.

     You continued to step around the table until to completely stopped once the cup Sebastian had previously drunken from was right before you.

     “I’m not drinking from that, you can have it all by yourself, (Y/N),” Jimmy said, already joining Chris beside the DJ while both Anthony and Sebastian had emptied their cups, the former laughing at your misery. 

     Your face twisted in disgust as you lifted up the cup, not wanting to lose the game.

     “Come on, (Y/N), you had worse of his fluids in your mouth before, including his spit. With the number of times you both make out every day,” Anthony teased before realising what he just said out loud, basically revealing your relationship with your costar on live television.

     “Oh, shit,” he threw his hands up before covering his face with them, “I’m sorry, guys.”

     “Wait, what?” Jimmy looked between you and your boyfriend, the audience silent in shock before everyone interrupted into loud cheering.

     “Guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Sebastian shrugged before chugging the beer and throwing the cup away just to come over to you and give you a quick hug while the audience freaked out.

     “So you two?” Jimmy smirked, Chris and Anthony nodding since they both knew of your secret longtime relationship.

     “Yep, she’s my girlfriend.” 

     He gave your hand a soft squeeze before returning to his position, throwing a wink in your direction as the music picked up again and you, Anthony and Sebastian stalked around the table.

     After you and Sebastian grabbed the last two cups, eliminating Anthony, the last one was placed down, meaning you’d have to compete against your boyfriend.

     “The fact that you’re dating just makes this even more intense,” Jimmy snickered, your two friends joining him as Sebastian acted like he was going to ruin you, his hand motioning a knife against his throat.

     “Oh, you’re going down,” you threatened, readying yourself to win this game. Just for the sake of it.

     You kept your eyes on the red plastic cup, darting around the table to get to it, spending a few moments there only to run back around. When the music came to a stop, your boyfriend sadly had better reflexes, grabbing the cup before you and drowning it with a smirk on his lips.

     “Sebastian Stan is the winner of this round of musical beers, everyone. Go watch Avengers: Infinity War in theatres to see more of these guys. We’ll be back after the break.” 

     The audience cheered as Sebastian approached you from behind dipping you low which caused you to let out a squeal as he connected his lips with yours in a celebratory kiss which only spurred the audience on even more.

     “And to see more of these two lovebirds you gotta follow them on Instagram which’ll be spammed with cringey couple pictures from now on,” Chris shouted over the outro as Sebastian let you stand straight again, grabbing your hand as you followed Anthony and Chris backstage where both of them continued to tease you until you departed.

     “Well…guess we get to post some couple pictures from now on,” you smiled up at the brunette as you walked down the parking lot to get into Sebastian’s car.

     “I’m happy people know now, it was getting harder and harder to keep it a secret, you know?”

     “Yea, I fell the same. I love you, Seb,” you quickly leaned up to press a kiss to his lips before walking the last few steps to his car, waiting for his to unlock the doors.

     “I love you, too.” He pressed the button on his keys, entering the car together with you before speeding off to his place where you two would spend the rest of the day chilling on his sofa and watching Netflix.

--

FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Tag List

Everyone: @marvelsbunch @trees-and-ink @heartbreaker6995 @ohitswanda @stardustbooknerd

Marvel Actors: @cappletini @whoissebby

[thepilotanon]

puppylove

I was really inspired by @formerly-anonhamster‘s doodle of werewolf!clyde, so I just kinda went nuts on it. This really has no plot or anything, I just want to try writing a country sweetheart as a fluff pup in love. This is meant to be very short and just for fun c:

warning: none? werewolf!clyde not wearing pants, I guess.

Clyde hated falling asleep outside.

It was never done on purpose, but on those stressful nights of handling the bar alone so close to the three nights of full moons, it eventually becomes one of the easiest outputs for Clyde to relieve stress. Changing in the late night and roaming the woods of West Virginia did some kind of wonders of calming Clyde down, even far before he sought special companionship with his significant other. Perhaps it was instinct? He didn’t know.

But waking up naked in his backyard with a blanket being draped over him, Clyde would refuse to acknowledge nature being anything else but dirty and embarrassing.

Feeling the familiar fabric of the throw blanket from the couch on his bare backside and the scent of his lovely Belle right next to him, Clyde lifted his head to see her smiling at him. “Good morning, handsome,” she whispered carefully, tucking his long hair behind his ear and stroking his cheekbone. “Did you have a hard night at work?”

“Mmhm,” Clyde grumbled as he slowly got to his knees, using his only hand to tug the blanket around him and cover his groin. It was cold this morning, yet Clyde felt extremely warm from his last night’s run. “Lots’a young ones tryin’ to be gutsy with anyone they fancy, or some drunk tryin’ to flirt with the wrong lady of a mated one… Not to mention Pat ran out of food to grill, and ya know how that goes.”

“I’m sorry, handsome,” Belle cooed and began to rub a smudge of dirt off his face to give him a gentle kiss. Pulling his messy head to her chest, Belle allowed him to bury his face and inhale her scent all while she rubbed his scalp and pick out leaves and sticks. “I really wish you’d ask Jimmy and Uncle Joe to help you out around this time of month. I know how much of a hassle it can be for just one wolf…”

Belle wasn’t a werewolf, but she knew fairly well what it was like to live with one. Her grandfather raised her all while handling his own struggles of being a werewolf and aging; not to mention his medical condition of PTSD and freaking out to the point he would transform on instinct and become dangerous to anyone who got too close to his granddaughter. Belle didn’t inherit the genetic, but she was very involved with the community of werewolves and helping those who are close to her, her number one being Clyde Logan, her beloved and soul mate by wolf terms. Belle was patient and smart, knowing what to do on a monthly schedule in helping Clyde as well as keeping herself safe around other wolves outside of the Logan family’s circle. Clyde warned her when their relationship became more serious, but she wouldn’t let his fears get in the way of how much she truly loved him.

“I didn’t make ya stay up all night, did I? I forgot to call home...” Clyde mumbled against her sleeping shirt, nuzzling against her a bit to be sure that his own scent was fresh on her in the outside world.

Belle chuckled and stroked his hair. “I fell asleep on the couch, don’t worry. You didn’t get into any fights last night in the woods, did you? I thought I heard some commotion out there but didn’t try to see who it was.”

Clyde’s throat rumbled as he tried to recollect everything that happened after he closed the bar. Lifting the blanket to look down his chest, Clyde found the usual scratches he would get from running around without his other prosthetic arm designed for his kind. His human limb prosthetic was safely back at the bar, in his office locked away, Clyde had left his other form one at home with Belle, expecting to have come home. There were some scratches around his scarred arm that he recognized as teeth marks…

A usual sign of another werewolf trying to bring him down for trespassing on his territory.

He remembered now, some of the younger werewolves from the bar last night were kicked out for harassing a group of women (a couple were human, Clyde remembered after checking on them) and he encountered them in his woods. The distance of the bar to his double-wide trailer was always marked by Clyde and Jimmy, and everyone in Boone County knew that the Logans owned that territory of woods. The werewolves were irritated by Clyde intervening them trying to flirt with the women, promising them good times and offering to buy drink, all up until it was discovered that they were underaged and boosting with hormones. Clyde remembered how they snarled insults to him, mentioning his missing front claw and whatever, all while he snorted and continued on home before being jumped on.

Of course, being older and having history being in the military, Clyde won the brawl and chased them out of the woods. However, realizing he was close to his trailer at that point and sensing them still lingering around the neighborhood, Clyde opted to patrolling around his home and growling at anyone who tried to get too close to his trailer. All for protecting his human mate inside the trailer, Clyde recalled snapping his jaws and growling at the younger werewolves a few times before they eventually left and he fell asleep in his backyard near Belle’s garden.

“Damn kids,” Clyde growled as Belle was careful to lift his amputated arm to inspect the bite marks.

“Let’s get you in the tub and I’ll make you breakfast,” Belle said and kissed his twitching cheek. Helping him wrap the blanket around his naked body, the woman was eventually pulled into a hug.

“Wanna take a bath with you,” Clyde whined, pressing his nose against her neck. He was feeling needy and territorial for her, which was very common after he spent a whole night outdoors without her. Being away too long from your mate can make a werewolf rather anxious and crabby, and Belle knew that very well from the past and seeing her grandparents have the same issues.

“Not when you got dirt on your butt,” Belle giggled at seeing his cheeks flush when she patted his covered behind. “We’ll use the showerhead and keep the drain open instead, how about that?”

After getting cleaned and pampered by his beautiful mate, Clyde munched on his burnt bacon in his sweatpants all while Belle was sewing one of his button ups from a tear in the sleeves, humming softly as she tested out the strength of her stitching by gently tugging on them. She was outside on the porch working on her project while Clyde ate, but the werewolf man didn’t like the distance of her wanting fresh air while he ate at the table. As much as Clyde loved his burnt pork, he wanted to be right beside Belle to make up for lost time he staked out the trailer for her; he wanted to protect her and cuddle up to her for the rest of the weekend before having to go back to work with wild beasts consuming alcohol…

Leaning over the table to see the front door propped open and Belle’s back in her comfortable lounging clothes, Clyde nearly swallowed the last of his bacon and wipes his mouth clean and slipping out of the kitchen silently. Slowly stalking the humming woman and pulling down his sweatpants, Clyde approached the unknowing woman through the door of the trailer and leap -

Feeling something cold press the back of her neck, Belle peeped in surprise before twisting her whole body to come face-to-face with the giant black wolf with honey-colored eyes. Nudging his cold nose against her cheek, Clyde got Belle giggling when he tickled her skin with soft sniffs and wrapped her arms around his enormous head.

“Thank you for being considerate about your pants, handsome. I’m almost out of thread from all the rips you’ve done this past month,” Belle sighed as Clyde nuzzled his head, roughly the same size as her torso, against her once seeing the discarded pants back in the trailer. “Was the bacon good?”

Clyde groaned through his nose, earning a kiss between his eyes. Plopping down to his belly, the werewolf crawled a bit closer to his mate’s side so he could curl around her much smaller body on the porch. Seeing how his huge tail was coming to wrap around her, putting her into a nest of scruffy black fur, she laughed and turned to his head finding a comfortable spot to rest as he eventually allowed himself to fall down due to his amputated left limb. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, Belle buried her face into his warm fur.

“You’re home now, that’s all that matters,” she told him, her hands coming to pet his large, pointed ears.

Clyde made a soft noise, moving his head closer to Belle in agreement.

dedicated to @formerly-anonhamster for the amazing doodle, and I also want to tag @kylo-renne, who wrote a werewolf!clyde that was really, really good and you should totally read it here and send some love!

[fyrapartnersearch]

Yo, wassup, I figured for the first of December I’d send out another ad to look for some partners; It’s been a while and my tastes have changed and narrowed and now I’ll be shootin’ for a smaller (sort of) group of people, this time around.

For starters, the name’s Sparky, or Shark, or whatever you wanna call me, I’m nineteen years of age and I’ve posted here a few times before, I’m pretty sure. I’ve become less formal and uptight with these ads as time goes on because I’ve learned that the more chill a gal is, the more people feel welcomed to send honest and colorful replies, but don’t be turned off by my lack of intellectualism; when it comes to my actual writing, I take it more seriously. For the most part. My sarcasm is sort of a package deal, but I swear my work is good.

I’ve been roleplaying for about eight years, now, and am willing to roleplay with anyone of legal age in their state, if only because I enjoy incorporating smut into my roleplays. If you’re somebody who likes to fade to black every time characters get freaky with each other at points in our story, I’m unfortunately not the gal for you. I enjoy long-term plot heavy stories for the most part, but am totally down for PWP as well, so feel free to message me for either.

At the moment, I’m mostly looking for a buddy who wants an Insert roleplay (Canon/OC), or maybe a Fandom roleplay (Canon/Canon), so feel free to contact me if you’re interested and match pretty damn well with the rest of these guidelines:

Care about your writing. I’m not asking you for a whole fuckin’ novel every response, you can write however much you’re comfortable with as long as It’s more than one sentence, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have a spelling error or a typo every other word. Everyone makes mistakes, I’ve been there on many, many… many, occasions (it’s no joke, man), but like– just try, y’know? To me, lazy writing shows a disinterest in the roleplay, which is a huge turn off for me.

On the same wavelength as above, please don’t feel stressed over how much you’re writing or if it matches enough to mine. Again, all I’m asking is for my partner to be interested and care a little about what they’re typing; I tend to write a LOT for roleplays I’m excited about but I’m not expecting you to respond with the same amount at all. If your limit is three paragraphs max, stick to three paragraphs max. If you love writing novels every response, I will fuckin’ read… ALL of that novel.

For Insert roleplays, I will ONLY write Double-up [unless you for some reason are just looking to play a canon character, because let’s be honest I can be a selfish shithead when you let me be], I am making this very clear because not only do I fuckin’ love seeing all the different characters people create, but also because the more the merrier. I like it when these things are played fairly– I play a character for your OC in return for you playing a character for mine.

Most of my pairings will likely be M/F or F/F (seeing as right now I only have one M/M pairing when it comes to canon/OC, and you’ll only be seeing them if you’re looking for Homestuck), but your side is totally free game. Do what you want. I’m also chill with Polyamorous ships and/or love triangles as long as you’re cool with the possibility of me going that route, as well.

It would be appreciated if you care about your side of the roleplay about just as much as you care for mine. I’ll totally do the same; I WILL get overly attached to everyone in our roleplay. You’ve been warned.

Please be okay with our OCs being eventual buddies sometime in the roleplay; I have a guilty pleasure for connections between all characters, even if it takes like, a story-year for them to meet. Obviously, if we end up planning something wherein that’s not possible, that’s chill, too.

OOC chat is 100% welcome– throw me all your jokes and ideas and stupid scenarios and possible future Ideas for the roleplay, tell me how much you love that one subject, talk to me about your day. I’m here for it.

Some extra info for those people who REALLY wanna know what they’re getting into:

I have 0 limits, on like, everything. The smut we write out can be weird kinks galore for all I care, there can be suicide and torture and pedophilia and major deaths and mental illnesses in our plot; and I have a bad habit of assuming my roleplay partner can handle anything I dish out in writing so just, if you have hard limits make sure to tell me about them before they can come up in an awkward situation.

I’m totally down to share kinks before a roleplay; ESPECIALLY if we’re jumping into PWP or a smut-centric plot

I’m very carelessly blunt and a smartass, so If I say anything that makes you uncomfortable just tell me and I’ll chill out a bit.

I’m in Mountain Time

I mentioned this before but my responses can range from like chapter-in-a-novel to a few paragraphs, and I’m not expecting you to match me in the slightest. Do what you do and we’ll be fine.

I very much love talking about character and relationship headcanons and shit, so like, hit me with all of your ideas, I could talk about this shit for hours.

I draw. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. There’s a large chance I’ll end up drawing characters from OUR roleplay, so just let me know beforehand if that’s not something you’re okay with.

I’m pretty flexible with response times, but it would be appreciated if you tell me beforehand if there’s something going on in your life that’ll make your replies more scarce than usual.

And, finally, the part of this ad that some of you have probably just skipped past everything else to get to, the FANDOMS: Bolded ships and/or names are preferred

[ POKEMON ]

COMPATIBLE WITH: CANON/OC, OC/OC (POKEPHILIA)

WANTED: Anything Pokephilia, Cheren, N

WILL PLAY: Any character you can name from the Video Game franchise; I haven’t watched much of the show, sorry bruh

  [ INVADER ZIM ]

COMPATIBLE WITH: CANON/OC

WANTED: Dib Membrane

WILL PLAY: Zim, Tak, Gaz, Prof. Membrane, Tallest Red, Tallest Purple, Sizz-Lor, Skoodge, Keef, fuckin’ Miss Bitters for all I care I will play them all you name whoever you want, my dude

[ JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC ]

COMPATIBLE WITH: CANON/OC, CANON/CANON

WANTED: Jimmy, Johnny C., Edgar Vargas

WILL PLAY: Jimmy, Johnny C., Edgar Vargas, Devi D., Tenna, Tess R., Anne Gwish, Satan, I don’t know who else is there, that fat psychic lady from I Feel Sick sure I’ll play her if you really want I guess, or the doughboys if you’re into that kinda thing, or Sickness, you kinky lil freak

SHIPS: Johnny C./Devi D. [Playing Devi], Jimmy/Edgar Vargas [Playing Either]

  [ HOMESTUCK ]

COMPATIBLE WITH: CANON/OC, CANON/CANON

WANTED: John Egbert, Gamzee Makara, Dave Strider, Terezi Pyrope, Sollux Captor, Cronus Ampora, Karkat Vantas

WILL PLAY: Literally anyone from this webcomic. You name it. One of the trolls? Done. Humans? Done. Calliope and Caliborn? Sure, man. Midnight Crew? You bet. Snowman? I mean good luck dude but go right ahead. Ms. Paint? All yours. Wayward Vagabond/Mr. Mayor? You do you. Just don’t ask for anybody from Hiveswap, I can’t catch up with all that just yet there’s only one chapter and a few character summaries out, slow your roll.

SHIPS: John Egbert/Terezi Pyrope [Playing Terezi], Dave Strider/Terezi Pyrope, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas [Playing Either], Kanaya Maryam/Rose Lalonde [Playing Either], I’m gonna be honest these are the only four I’m cool with playing from the top of my head but hey, if you want something, ask, you never know, I coulda just forgotten.

  [ UNDERTALE ]

COMPATIBLE: CANON/OC

WANTED: Grillby, Mettaton

WILL PLAY: Sans {under certain specific rules, NO JELLY DICKS}, Papyrus {under certain specific rules, SERIOUSLY, NO JELLY DICKS}, Asriel, Asgore, Toriel, Gaster {under certain specific rules, I’M SERIOUS, N O J E L L Y D I C K S, HE’S NOT EVEN A FUCKIN SKELETON GODDAMN-}, Mettaton, Grillby, Undyne, Alphys, Burgerpants, Ice Cream Bunny, etc. just nobody from Deltarune because I’m trying to keep that place pure and innocent and unruined because they’re just some good ass kids trying to play some good ass DnD and STOP TRYING TO FUCK THE JESTER-

  [ TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES 2014, MICHAEL BAY, 2018, OWN PERSONAL MIX OF DESIGNS/PLOT/ETC. ]

COMPATIBLE: CANON/OC WANTED: Donatello

WILL PLAY: Raphael, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Splinter, Shredder, April O’Neil, Karai, etc.

CONTACT ME

Email [Preferred]: Gatorteeth333@gmail.com

Discord: Sparky#4225

[clownfvcker]

joseph cult ending/level 18 text

went through the game files (C:\Program Files (x86)\Steam\SteamApps\common\Dream Daddy\ddadds_Data\level18.file) and reformatted the text in the file to be more readable (its backwards for whatever reason)

i had to guess with some of the text regarding if it were narration or who was saying it. bold is anyone whos not the player character, italics are narration

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. What time is it? Must have been asleep for ages.

I wonder what will happen now that Mary is gone? What about Joseph’s kids?

And how will Amanda feel about all this?

...Well, we all have each other. That’s what matters.

I guess time will tell, right? Better get up and greet the day.

Wait.

I- am I tied up?!

What the hell?!

How did I get here? What’s going on?!

Joseph?

Anybody?

Don’t panic. You’re probably just dreaming. Why would there be a...

...a dungeon.

An evil dungeon. Why would there be an evil dungeon here?

This can’t be real. Maybe I had too much Twilight Rouge.

I’m dreaming, or something.

Oh, I guarantee this is real.

I can see someone at the end of the hall. It’s just a shape; I can barely make out any features.

Who’s there? Can you untie me?

It’s a personal guarantee. A verbal handshake.

Trust, if that’s what you get off on.

Please, I- I don’t know how I got here. I think there’s been a mistake.

You trust me, right?

I mean, why wouldn’t you?

Joseph?! Jesus, what is this? Are you into this kind of thing? I wish you’d have warned me.

Into this kind of…?

Hah! Ha ha!

I always liked you, {$PlayerFirstName}. Goal oriented, anchored by family. The rock in a shallow sea.

And down to pound, if you catch my meaning. I had a whale of a time last night.

Get it? Whale? We talked extensively about whales last night? You don’t really like them?

…

You’re not in a joking mood. I get that.

His voice is different. This whole situation is different. The way he’s talking: it’s…

Dastardly? Sadistic? It can be both. Throw another one in there. Wrathful. That one’s good.

Wait, How did he…?

I’m very perceptive. A good listener. I heard all those impure thoughts, {$PlayerFirstName}, and about a married man, no less.

I’m pretty sure that’s a sin.

Who… are you?

I told you, I’m a cool youth minister. Have you seen my tattoos? Were you even watching me tear it up on the dance floor?

You used to be a lot more fun.

Well, hi. My name is Joseph. I have an alcoholic whore wife, whose life I destroyed.

Poor Mary. And their kids.

Joseph laughs.

My kids? Those aren’t my kids.

Well, they are my kids. In a way. Cosmically. I guess you could call them… vessels.

And in that case I guess that technically makes me not a Dad. Woops. Sorry to kill that little fantasy for you.

Joseph, this is insane. So the whole minister thing... that’s just a front for this weird sex dun-

Joseph starts laughing hysterically. He wipes a tear from his eye.

Oh, that’s so cute. You think this is a sex thing.

I mean, it’s kind of a sex thing.

The safe word is “Jimmy Buffett.”

{$PlayerFirstName}, there are powers at work so far beyond your understanding that the very idea that I would sink to some half-baked sex game is a little insulting.

All that religion mumbo-jumbo wasn’t entirely false. I am a man of the cloth, just not the cloth you’re thinking of.

I am the conduit for something beautiful, {$PlayerFirstName}. Something pure. And you have the honor of being part of it.

I know that sounds kinda hokey but stick with me. I promise ‘ll get back to being relatably cool in a second.

Where you really are is under the house. Or I guess, under the houses.

The houses…? Are we… under the cul-de-sac?

Hey, deductive reasoning! Points for {$PlayerFirstName}!

How did nobody notice a dungeon underneath the town? Somebody would have had to...

All dead. Everyone who figured it out, that is.

And it’s not a dungeon. Dungeons are for old castles and twelve year olds. This place is… how would I describe it?

Inhabiting many spaces. The betweens of the world. The gaps in mathematics. It’s quite simply beyond you, I’m afraid.

Just think of it as the real Margarita Zone.

This is too much… my head hurts…

{$PlayerFirstName}, ever wonder where all the wives and husbands in town went? Why everyone’s an eligible single father?

...I just thought it was a coincidence.

Nothing’s a coincidence, idiot. No town in America has such a concentration of eligible, willing Dads.

And do you want to know why?

I don’t know if I do, Joseph.

Because of me. Because of my work. Because of my loyalty.

Loyalty? You’re insane.

Profoundly.

How many couples have I pushed to divorce? How many wives and husbands have I hunted in the dark?

Wait… Amanda’s mom… it can’t be…

I unfortunately can’t take credit for that one. It seems entropy beat me to the punch.

I don’t know if that’s a relief or not.

But man, what if I had? The look on your face would’ve been priceless.

Maple Bay is a psychic beacon of unfathomable power, but it requires sacrifice. It needs to feed on those deep, unquenchable pangs of anguish.

And all to get these very good friends of ours here, in my town, and my father’s town, and his father before him. Hurting for human touch. Praying for the salvation of kindness.

I don’t understand.

Of course you don’t. You were out there gallivanting about, seducing all the hottest single Dads. Meddling in something you have no understanding of. A greatness you could not conceive.

Out there, in the dark of the sea, lies something that has been waiting to return for a hundred million years. It showed the path to Jonah, my ancient ancestor, as it has shown the path to me.

And I will fuck each Dad whose life I destroy until the shame and stink of their failures has returned our eternal king to life. The fuel of a hundred thousand rank darknesses of the soul.

Wow…

Do you have anything you’d like to say?

I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.

What about Amanda?

Just kidding! You don’t get to choose. I know you’re used to being in control here.

But now it’s my turn.

And don’t worry yourself about Amanda.

If you touch her…

Please, {$PlayerFirstName}, give me some credit. Look at my pedigree.

If I do my job, I won’t even have to.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s some other business I need to attend to. Your dear friend Robert has been awfully worried about you…

I think it’s about time that miserable drunk gets one last visit from the Dover Ghost.

This is a nightmare.

A beautiful nightmare, wouldn’t you agree?

All along you’ve been living a dream, Daddy.

Now it’s time to wake up.

Oh man. This is bad. This is very bad.

How long was I out? When is he coming back? How do I get out of here?

A hand slips over my mouth.

Don’t say anything.

Hell, don’t even think anything.

It’s okay, {$PlayerFirstName}. It’s me.

I’m gonna get you out of here.

She kneels down and starts working on the ropes around my ankles.

I gotta be honest, I didn’t like you at first.

I guess I did try to break up your marr-

Shh! Shut up for once.

Look, truth is I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the both of us. I don’t think you’re a bad person, despite what you might think of me.

I don’t want it to end like this. Not again.

I raise my eyebrows at her.

Come on. Who do you think lived in that house before you?

Don’t think about it. Not right now.

He’s coming. Run, kid.

Mary finishes untying me and disappears.

I get out of the chair and run as fast as I can down the hallway outside of my... holding cell.

I have to get out of here.

Eventually I run out of breath. I can’t keep sprinting. Not with these Dad knees.

I check myself. All I have are the clothes on my back and... this thing in my pocket. The pocket knife that Robert gave me. If I have to defend myself, this is all I have.

Looking ahead of me, I can’t see the end of the hallway: it bends further up there. I look back and can’t even see where I started. I guess the only thing I can do is keep going and hope there’s a way out on the other end.

If there is an other end...

The hallway bends and twists. Sometimes it gets smaller, to the point where I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. Sometimes it expands into a great cavern where I can’t even see the ceiling. I see no way out other than to keep moving forward.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, but my body aches with soreness. I’m long past dehydration. My head is pounding. My vision is blurred. I lean up against the walls of the hallway for support.

I’m not sure how I’m still going.

And yet still here I am. I’ve been walking for what I think must be days. It could be weeks... months...

The exhaustion has sunk into my bones. I drift in and out of consciousness. I think I’ve slept, if you can call it sleep. My dreams are plagued with nightmares of being chased down this hallway. I see Joseph’s kids. They hide in the shadows. They’re coming to drag me back to Joseph.

Oh god, Joseph. I can see his face so clearly in those dreams.

I don’t know why I keep moving, why I keep placing one foot in front of the other. My clothes are tattered and my shoes have worn through.

My hell is inescapable.

Until...

It’s... a door.

A door at the dead end of the hallway.

I place my hand on the knob, seeing for the first time my gnarled fingernails and stretched, papery skin. I open the door and walk through.

...I’m in my house?! How did that...?

Amanda rushes into the room, wrapping her arms around me in a ferocious bear hug.

Where have you been?! Are you okay? I tried calling you like thirty times!

A...Amanda?

What happened? Did the boat break down or something?

Oh... I... um...

You know what? I’m just glad you’re home.

I look down and at myself and my clothes. They’re... there. My shoes are on. My fingernails aren’t gnarled.

I feel... fine.

I hug Amanda again. Nothing has ever felt as good in my entire life.

I have to choke back tears of relief.

Amanda... I’m... so glad to see you. You have no idea.

Wow, one night at sea.

You didn’t see a whale, did you? You poor thing.

No whale could keep me from my daughter.

You’re damn right.

You know what? You need breakfast. A very greasy breakfast.

That sounds amazing.

Amanda skips out of the room.

This is all so confusing... was it a dream?

By the way, is it okay if Emma P. comes over tonight?

Emma P.?

You know, my best friend?

Oh, sure.

Wait... I thought... isn’t Emma R. your best friend?

She has red hair? You do art together? You pooped in her bed during that sleepover one time?

Oh right, my mistake. Teenager brain, you know?

I sit down on the couch, suddenly very exhausted. All I want is to have a big plate of hashbrowns with my daughter by my side while I quietly work on my word jumbles.

I reach over to the coffee table and grab my trusty book of jumbles.

This is... this is a crossword puzzle.

I stare at it for too long.

Hey Amanda...

Amanda pops her head in from the kitchen.

Workin’ hard on these eggs, Dadtron. If you want the perfect over-medium I gotta be in the zone.

When’s your birthday?

Why, did you get me something?

No, seriously. When’s your birthday?

My birthday? Dad, really? Do I have to answer this?

I have seen a lot of weird stuff today, Amanda. Humor me.

My birthday is...

It’s...

Nothing gets past you, huh?

(NOTE: The file here says “AmandaDemon… neutral”)

You know, I almost had you going there for a sec. Was it the crossword puzzle that gave it away? You know, I try so hard to nail the details.

Like, cooking you breakfast? Over-medium eggs with hash browns? Come on. That’s so you.

And my Amanda impression? I really think I stuck the landing on her irreverent yet wholesome tone. The whole “manic pixie dream daughter” thing? I should’ve been on Broadway with these chops.

I feel like you’re not appreciating how much work I’ve put in here.

Amanda turns ash black, her clothes, hair and bracelets collapsing into concentric rings of pitch-dark smoke.

Cracks begin to form along the walls around me. I look down and see the floor collapsing in tiles. As the walls, crumble... I see where I truly am.

Almost got away, huh?

Dunno how you got out of those ropes. You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?

Mary...

Oh right! Mary! She’s rocking the tag team with you, isn’t she?

Funny, here I was thinking marriage was about trust.

You know I thought I was gonna take care of Robert, and then here you were trying to make your escape and honestly {$PlayerFirstName} you’re just killing my whole timeline here.

Wait... Robert.

As quick as I can, I pull his folding knife out of my pocket and lunge for Joseph, throwing all my force into him—

Joseph knocks the knife out of my hand. It skitters across the room.

Aw, man.

{$PlayerFirstName}, I thought we were cool.

I thought we had a thing here. What happened to Margarita Zone?

Welp, sorry bud, but I guess I’m gonna have to do ya dirty.

Doing you dirty means I have to kill you.

Joseph wraps his hands around my neck, smiling as he tightens his grip.

What’s wrong? You were so into this last night.

I have no strength left to fight him.

This is it. Isn’t it?

The world goes quiet around me.

All I can think about is Amanda... I miss her so much.

I’m sorry Amanda. I love you more than anything.

Please be good...

Joseph’s eyes go wide. He releases his grip on me and I gasp in air. He turns around.

It’s over, Joseph.

Honey, sweetie, you... stabbed me.

You stole so much of my life from me.

Joseph backs away from Mary, clutching the wound on his shoulder.

Sweetheart... we can work this out.

I’m done with you.

Father?

Chris peeks into the doorway behind Mary. He looks... different. Behind him are Christian, Christie, and Crish, who all creep into the room.

Father... we’re so hungry.

Won’t you feed us, Father?

Mary turns to me and holds out a hand.

Hey, sailor.

It’s time to go.

The children corner Joseph as I crawl to Mary, who pulls me into the hallway. I look back into the room at the horror I had escaped. I... it’s...

The more I look at it, the more it seems to break my mind. I turn away, my head pounding.

This body is but a conduit, Mary! I’ll see you in your nightmares!

What the hell?

My eyes open and I shoot up in bed, gasping for air.

Dad!

Amanda leaps off of the chair in my room and attacks me with a hug.

Amanda!

This is the best hug of my life.

I was so worried about you...

I’m so happy to see her again...

Amanda... what’s your birthday?

Dad, did you forget again?

It’s March 22nd. You got me a record player and we ate an ice cream cake at the beach? But then I dropped the ice cream cake and got sand all over it? Remember?

I... I remember that.

Panda I missed you so much. What... what happened?

You don’t remember?

The yacht sank. The rescue crews had to pull you out of the water. That was a few days ago.

Where’s Joseph?

They found something in the Yacht wreckage. Some documents that showed he was embezzling funds from the church. Nobody’s seen him since.

There’s a detective here who’s been waiting to talk to you. He’s nice but he’s drinking all of our coffee. Lemme go grab him.

Wait...

Yeah?

Amanda, I love you so much.

I love you too, Dad.

Amanda skips out of the room, and in a moment Mary enters with...

...the guy I saw in the hallway.

Rise and shine, bucko.

Mary... are you okay?

You know it was a real shame, what happened to Joseph. I had no idea he was doing what he was doing to the church. And I can’t believe he ran once the feds showed up, leaving me to take care of our four beautiful children on my own.

But don’t worry, they’re staying with my parents out in the midwest til this all blows over.

Mary stares at me, waiting for me to say something.

Good answer.

Glad to see you’ve both got your story straight.

I’m happy you’re okay. I was worried about you.

Thanks, Mary.

Mary cracks a smile before turning and leaving my room.

Take it sleazy, fellas.

Once the door closes, the man pulls up a chair and sits next to my bed.

You don’t know me, but I know a lot about you, {$PlayerFirstName}. Been keeping tabs on you for a while.

Who are you?

Graves. Detective Saul Graves.

There’s strange and mysterious forces at work here in Maple Bay.

What you saw down there... what we both saw down there... I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget it. And I get the feeling that you won’t be able to, either.

But it’s my job to get to the bottom of this.

So what does this mean for me?

It means to live your life like none of this ever happened. Go be happy. Go raise your daughter. Go fall in love.

Be well, {$PlayerFirstName}.

Saul walks to the door of my bedroom, but stops. He turns to me.

And...

I know it’s hard to raise a kid as a single parent. Even I lost my wife under “mysterious circumstances.”

Little Barry and I have been on our own for a while now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s that us Dads have to help each other out.

Get some rest. But if you’re not doing anything later... maybe you give me a call.

[chorddebtor0-blog]

Michael Kenny’s Offseason Plan, and Plan Tracker

Before I get started with my own plan, I wanted to share the link to the South Side Sox offseason plan tracker spreadsheet, which I’ll be updating as all of your plans roll in. This will give us an idea of which decisions are the most popular, how much everyone is giving up in money and trades, and more.

2018-19 SSS Offseason Plan Tracker

Sorry, White Sox fans, but the window is not opening in 2019.

It could have, had things gone better in 2018. Yoán Moncada could’ve broken out for 4 or 5 WAR instead of backing into 2 and looking like 0. Michael Kopech could’ve stayed healthy and lived up to the hype. Any other prospect could’ve stayed healthy. Seriously, was Dylan Cease the only guy in the whole farm system that didn’t get injured? That’s ironic.

With Moncada providing more questions than answers, Kopech tearing his UCL, Lucas Giolito falling apart, Eloy Jiménez being held back, and a big ol’ pile of injuries in the minors, it’s become clear that 2019 is not the year. The Sox need another season of development to get the answers they currently lack, which makes pushing toward contention this winter a futile exercise.

Any moves the Sox make this offseason need to be with 2020 and 2021 in mind. In 2020, Moncada, Giolito, and Reynaldo López will have one more season under their belts, Jiménez will be settled in, Kopech will return, and the second wave of prospects will arrive in the majors. In 2021, Carlos Rodón and Yolmer Sánchez will reach free agency. Those two seasons represent the convergence of most of the organization’s talent, and hopefully enough players will take steps forward to extend the window well beyond that.

Of course, the two names on everyone’s minds are Bryce Harper and Manny Machado. I’m sure either of those guys would be thrilled to sign with a team that just lost 100 games, and I’m sure the White Sox would offer them enough money to do it, especially since they’re known for giving out blockbuster contracts. There are simply too many teams with too much money, too much existing talent, and too much TWTW for the Sox to even be a footnote in those negotiations.

My goal is to set this team up for future success knowing that the blockbuster is not happening, but hoping that they’ll go all in a year from now, when the time is right. Let’s get to it!

Arbitration-Eligibles

José Abreu – $16 million – TENDER

Avisaíl García – $8 million – TENDER

Yolmer Sánchez – $4.7 million – TENDER

Carlos Rodón – $3.7 million – TENDER

Matt Davidson – $2.4 million – TENDER

Leury García – $1.9 million – TENDER

The first four on this list are easy decisions. I wouldn’t blame you if you non-tendered Leury or Davidson, although I think they can both still be moderately useful players and their salaries won’t break the bank. If either has to be DFA’d midseason to give someone else a chance, so be it, but they stay for now.

Options

You already know how this goes in real life; James Shields’ option was declined, and Nate Jones’s option was picked up. Jones presents a tough decision, but I think that it’s wise to give him one more chance to pitch a full, healthy season. He hasn’t lost any velocity through all of these injuries, so there’s still hope that he can get back to pitching effectively.

Impending Free Agents

Miguel González (2018 salary: $4.75 million) – LET GO

Hector Santiago (2018 salary: $2 million) – LET GO

There are far too many pitchers in this organization to give any more innings to either of these guys.

Free Agent Signings

Sign RHP Nathan Eovaldi to a 3-year, $51 million contract.

After missing all of 2017 following Tommy John surgery, Eovaldi picked up right where he left off with a 3.60 FIP in 111 innings. He’s an above-average starter when healthy, and it’s unfortunate that he had such a great postseason because he’s no longer as under-the-radar as he was a month ago. I’m signing him for three years, although now I’m a bit worried that it will take four to get a deal done, so I’m upping the annual value to compensate.

Eovaldi issued just 20 walks this season, so he’ll be a great addition to a pitching staff that led the majors in free passes (653). He also generates a healthy amount of ground balls (46.8 percent career). Basically, Eovaldi should help to stabilize a highly uncertain 2019 rotation, and if he continues to pitch well, he becomes an asset to the team in 2020-21 or a trade chip to acquire help elsewhere.

Sign LHP Drew Pomeranz to a 1-year, $9 million contract.

The Sox already had one hole to fill in the rotation, but with Michael Kopech down for the count it’s probably a good idea to add another. For that reason, I’m signing both Eovaldi, a pitcher on the rise, and Pomeranz, a reclamation project.

Pomeranz posted back-to-back 3-win seasons before bombing with the Red Sox this year. He spent two months on the disabled list with biceps tendinitis, and the issue sapped both his velocity (90 mph average fastball, down from 92) and control (5.35 BB/9). He got some of his zip back in the second half, but the Red Sox bumped him to the bullpen after they acquired... Nathan Eovaldi.

Eovaldi and Pomeranz fill out the rotation, with Jordan Stephens the next man up out of Charlotte. There’s also a chance that Dylan Cease forces his way into the conversation, but given the nature of pitching there will always be opportunities.

Sign C Jeff Mathis to a 1-year, $2 million contract.

I really don’t know what to do about Omar Narváez. His bat is legit, but his glove does not belong at catcher. Like, at all. A guy who hits .275/.366/.429 shouldn’t feel like a fringe major leaguer, but that’s how much value he gives back with his defense. I gave a lot of thought to just moving Narváez to third base this offseason (hey, it worked for Brandon Inge), but I think the most realistic solution is to make him a part-time catcher, part-time 1B/DH. That will diminish his offensive value, but it will also limit his defensive damage.

Given Narváez’s limitations, Welington Castillo isn’t the right catcher to pair with him. I think keeping Omar as a catcher requires bringing in a defensive specialist as his caddy, and Mathis can be that guy. He’s a banjo hitter, to be sure, but he’s also an excellent defender. There’s a reason he’s continued to find work despite a career 50 wRC+. Oof, did I say 50? Well, ultimately he’s just keeping this spot warm for Seby Zavala.

Trades

Acquire 3B Maikel Franco from the Phillies for OF Blake Rutherford and RHP Jimmy Lambert.

The Phillies are looking to make a huge splash this offseason, and they can’t afford to wait around on Franco to realize his potential when Machado and others are there for the taking. At 26, Franco is still mostly projection because he’s yet to live up to his former elite prospect hype. He showed signs of life this year with a 105 wRC+, but his performance has been uninspiring overall, in part due to some conditioning issues. Give him a change of scenery, get him in the Best Shape of His Life, and maybe he’ll run with the new opportunity.

The Sox have such a ridiculous glut of outfielders and pitchers that they can start dipping into it a bit to diversify their assets and take a risk on a player like Franco, who has three more years of control. Rutherford and Lambert are expendable without putting the depth of the system in jeopardy.

Acquiring an everyday third baseman also allows Yolmer Sánchez to shift into a super-sub role, where I think he can be very valuable on a good team. If Franco flops, Sánchez can just take the hot corner back. This also means saying goodbye to José Rondón, but I don’t really believe his low-average power surge is sustainable.

Acquire RHP Stiward Aquino from the Angels for C Welington Castillo and $3 million.

I really liked the Castillo signing at the time. The only reason I didn’t include him in my plan last year was because I didn’t think the Sox would be able to get him. Of course, a midseason PED suspension is a great way to kill any goodwill with your organization and fanbase.

Moreover, as I said above, Castillo just doesn’t fit on this team anymore. Unfortunately, these factors combined give the Sox about as much leverage on the trade market as they had with Nick Swisher. I suspect some team that really needs help behind the plate will allow Castillo to don the tools of ignorance, but they’ll want to acquire him at a discount and give up little in return.

I imagine the Los Angeles Angels would take on Castillo given that their current catchers are a 29-year old rookie, a 26-year-old rookie, and Kevan Smith. In exchange they’re sending Aquino, a 19-year-old pitcher with a lanky 6-foot-6 frame who lost his 2018 to Tommy John surgery.

Other Moves

Offer OF Eloy Jiménez a 7-year, $50 million extension.

I don’t expect Jiménez to sign an early-career extension the way many young White Sox players have. He’s a star waiting in the wings, and the Sox done him wrong at the end of 2018. That said, a record-shattering deal like this might get his attention given that his amateur signing bonus was a mere $2.8 million. It would also spare both sides the “Work on your defense for two weeks” charade.

In all likelihood, the charade is still on. If it is, Nicky Delmonico breaks camp with the major league team and, barring injury, he’s the odd man out come April 12.

Get Matt Davidson on a mound.

Seriously. I don’t think there’s any reason that a team can’t lean on its backup DH to throw two or three innings in garbage time. In an era where relievers are more important than ever, converting a defensively limited guy into a two-way player and pitching him in low-leverage situations can spare the rest of the bullpen. It may even allow the Sox to forego whatever random junkballer veteran swingman they would need instead. It’s the new market inefficiency!

The Roster

Lineup

2B Yoán Moncada C Omar Narváez 1B José Abreu DH Daniel Palka LF Nicky Delmonico Eloy Jiménez RF Avisaíl García 3B Maikel Franco SS Tim Anderson CF Adam Engel

Bench

C Jeff Mathis UT Yolmer Sánchez OF Leury García 1B/RHP Matt Davidson

Rotation

LHP Carlos Rodón RHP Nathan Eovaldi RHP Reynaldo López LHP Drew Pomeranz RHP Lucas Giolito

Bullpen

RHP Ian Hamilton LHP Jace Fry RHP Zack Burdi RHP José Ruiz RHP Nate Jones RHP Thyago Vieira LHP Caleb Frare (Or swap in Ryan Burr, Carson Fulmer, Aaron Bummer, Juan Minaya, Dylan Covey, etc.)

Summary

You may have noticed that this team is not that good, but it’s a pretty big step forward from 2018. If things break right, they could push into the 75-to-80-win range, and that would set the table for a serious push in 2020.

This team’s payroll is in the neighborhood of $88 million, and only Eovaldi and Tim Anderson (and possibly Jiménez) have guaranteed contracts beyond 2019. That kind of flexibility opens up endless possibilities for next offseason, when the free agent market will be headlined by players like these:

Source: https://www.southsidesox.com/2018/11/1/18038098/michael-kennys-offseason-plan-and-plan-tracker