#this was such a nice chill stream for friday afternoon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

Text

Suna x reader: Final part (smut)

Here’s the final part to my Suna series! I wasn’t satisfied with my fluff version of the ending (which you can read here if you’re interested) so I decided to write a more smutty version.

Warning: degradation, angry sex, light choking, mostly just a lot of degrading lol

I genuinely think this is the hottest fanart I’ve ever seen of him I can barely look at it without ✨butterflies✨.

Art creds go to @minghuaa_art on twitter!

Despite Kita seeing you that day in the car, Suna still asked to keep whatever was between you a secret. That was fine with you--you didn’t particularly want a boyfriend, especially with the second semester of college work picking up. You still got to see him pretty often, hooking up in his car or your dorm at least three nights a week or more. Never the frat house; apparently his roommates were annoying.

It was nice. Easy. Far easier than you ever expected friends with benefits to be. And beyond the sex, you loved talking to Suna; laying together on your tiny bed, legs tangled, while he explained the new music he was listening to, or walking together to the cafeteria as he made you laugh so hard that water came out of your nose.

The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first.

Suna was an abnormally horrific texter, barely ever responding within the day, if at all. If you ever wanted to get in contact with him, you’d have to call directly. And honestly even then he didn’t have the best track record.

What was more frustrating was that it was always on his time. He would text you asking to hang out that night, and you would say yes, and then he wouldn’t respond until the following afternoon with some vague excuse about being busy. The first few times it happened, you got so mad that you didn’t respond to his calls, until he showed up at your dorm with panda express and forced you to watch Tokyo Ghoul with him.

He had apologized...but it didn’t stop happening. It made you feel like you were some sort of side whore, who he called when he was bored and had nothing better to do. Like you were second best to everything else he had going on in his life.

You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him.

You liked the way he would stare at you while you talked, actually listening and curious as to what you had to say. You liked the way he hugged you after a few days of not seeing each other, burying his face in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough to you. You liked the way he laughed, both the usual, quiet chuckles and the rare snorting wheezes. You liked the way his mouth looked when he smoked, the way he moaned your name when he came, the way he could make you laugh at anything at any time.

You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself.

After one month of hanging out with Suna, you were planning on meeting up and going to see a movie. Both of you were more homebodies, preferring to stay in rather than party, but you had decided that you wanted to try and expand your horizons once again. The movies seemed like a happy compromise.

The film was something Suna had been talking about for a while, an action thriller that honestly looked like shit but got good audience reviews because of all the flashy fight scenes. He had been so excited when it came out that you hadn’t been able to say no to going, especially not after he pried you with food.

He was coming to get you at 6 pm, and your last class ended at 3pm, which gave you plenty of time to get ready. You stared at the face of your teacher on the screen within your zoom class, zoning out as he explained the flood system around the school. You glanced over as your phone buzzed, a message from Suna popping up on the screen.

Suna

Wha u doying rit now?

You

What?

Suna

Sorr little drynk

You

You’re drunk?

Suna

im at psrty

You

Are we still seeing a movie tonight?

There was no response, and you felt your stomach drop. You didn’t even notice as your teacher ended class and logged you off the meeting. Suna was at a party at 3 in the afternoon, drunk, and didn’t seem to remember you had plans. You swallowed, shoving your phone aside as you ground your teeth. Why was he so frustrating?

You stood up, angry at yourself for caring, furious at Suna for making you feel this way, for being such a piece of shit. You knew what party he was probably at--Kiyoko had said she was going at some point--and suddenly you were moving before you could think about it.

You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course.

You didn’t give yourself time for nerves as you strode from your dorm and headed in the direction of the frat house, following a steady stream of people already going in that direction. You knew it was Friday, but how the fuck were so many people already getting ready to party when it was literally 3:30????

It wasn’t overly crowded in the house when you entered, but enough where it was confusing as you wandered through the crowd. You snatched two drinks from the counter, downing them as fast as possible as you searched for Suna in the crowd. You’d need to be at least tipsy before having this confrontation.

You found him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to who you recognized to be Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita, and Iwaizumi--all who you knew through Kiyoko. There were a few others you didn’t know, and they were all clearly drunk out of their minds.

As you entered the room, Suna met your eyes for a brief moment, but then they moved on without a reaction. He didn’t care at all that you had come to find him, or that he had never responded to your text.

The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back.

Instead of talking to Suna, you decided to get wasted. An hour after first coming to the party, you were deep in a game of beer pong and you had a pleasant warmth in your gut, the world a little hazy. You felt braver, more angry, and suddenly all you wanted to do was track down that yellow eyed idiot and slap him.

“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu.

Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?”

You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged.

“He’s over there,” Atsumu pointed towards the kitchen, and you felt all the blood drain from your face as you followed his gaze. Sitting in a chair, his back to you, was Suna...and on his lap was a beautiful blonde girl with her hands in his hair as she kissed him fiercely.

You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to go get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue.��

Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt.

As you headed down the hall, Atsumu grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “So...you and Suna huh?” He said, a strange smile on his face.

“What are you--?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows.

“We aren’t together.”

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?”

“I--”

“What the fuck.”

All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?

“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?”

Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”

“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.”

Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”

“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading away down the hall.

When he was out of sight, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl.

You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?”

“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!”

“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!”

“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”

You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--”

Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him in silence.

Suna gave a dark chuckle. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

You barely had time to react before he gripped your chin, kissing you roughly and shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, and the sound snapped whatever restraints Suna had. His hands ran down the back of your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you through the nearest door into a random bedroom. He kissed down your neck as he kicked the door shut, and you gasped as he tossed you on the bed.

Your eyes slid down his chest and across his toned stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head, completely at a loss for what to do. You could feel the heat pulsing between your legs, making your heart race and your body tremble. But this was wrong. Right?

You didn’t have anymore time to think about it as Suna gripped your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” He snarled, yanking your leggings off and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. His eyes darkened as they swept over the pair of lacy underwear you had worn, sliding towards your center where you kept your thighs clenched tightly together.

He didn’t say a word as he forced your legs apart, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, yanking down your underwear, and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. You shuddered as his hot breath caressed you, and he ran lazy circles along the inside of your thighs with his long fingers.

“Fuck…” He murmured under his breath before looking up at you. “Do you want me to--”

“Stop teasing me Suna,” you groaned, shifting your hips, and he laughed darkly.

“Fine.”

You practically screamed at the first sweep of his tongue, managing to turn your face into a pillow to muffle your noises as he worked around your clit and used his fingers in your core. You bucked your hips up into his face, and his laughter vibrating through your body almost had you coming within the first minute.

You let out a low cry of protest as he pulled away, raising his head to glare at you. His mouth was covered in your juices, his hair rumpled and eyes glassy. He leaned over you, yanking away the pillow you had been using to cover your mouth and throwing it across the room.

“What are you--”

“I want to hear you begging for it,” he snapped, and you managed to roll your eyes before he shoved his fingers back into you.

“You’re so--ah!” You shuddered.

Over the course of a month of fucking each other, Suna had figured out exactly how to make you fall apart under his tongue and fingers, so it didn’t take long for him to work you into an early climax. Your legs shook, and you let out a series of moans as you came all over his mouth.

He got to his feet after making sure he had licked you completely clean, gazing down at you with possessive smugness.

“Why do you look so fucked out already? We’ve barely gotten started.”

You didn’t even argue as you got onto your knees on the bed, hands sliding into his hair as you kissed him angrily, unsaid words erupting. He allowed you to shove him onto the bed, and you focused on unzipping his pants and throwing them aside, ditching your shirt and bra along with it. His boxers went next, and then you had his dick in your hands, stroking it while Suna groaned.

“Here,” he panted, tossing you a condom, and you slid it over his cock just like he taught you. You positioned yourself over him, impatient, your knees on either side of his hips as you thrust yourself down on him in one go. You both moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside you.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, slowly rolling your hips as you rested your hands lightly on Suna’s chest. You went slow, taking the time to feel how deep he reached inside you, the movement on your clit enough to send tingles up the rest of your body.

Suna watched you ride him lazily, his yellow eyes half closed as he took in the way your naked body shifted to move on top of him.

“Ha, you’re doing so good...god--you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, and you glared down at him.

“You make me so...mad…” You managed between pants of pleasure, and Suna raised his eyebrows.

“You can still talk? I guess I’m not doing enough…”

Before you could protest, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he gripped your throat lightly.

“You’re such a little cumslut aren’t you?” He murmured in your ear, and you arched slightly. “Don’t you ever try and fuck someone else again, got it? You’re only allowed to come around my cock.”

You moaned in agreement, and Suna rolled you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He gave you no warning as he thrust back in, practically fucking you into the mattress.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he used his fingers to reach around and rub your clit, his other hand running along your breast. You could barely think through the pleasure, and the only coherent word you were managing to say was his name.

Suna leaned over you, yanking your head back to murmur in your ear. “You’re mine, got it?” His words were rough, and you clenched hard around his cock. You could feel your second orgasm approaching, and he could tell too by the way you shuddered around him. He paused in his motion, and you wiggled your hips in protest, trying to get him going again.

“Why’d you stop?” You snapped, glancing over your shoulder when he didn’t continue.

Suna grinned. “Beg for it, bitch.”

He moved slightly, letting you feel the friction, and you gasped in anger and pleasure. This bastard wanted to tease you, make you submit to him…

Despite knowing this, you broke almost immediately. “Please, Suna, please please, I need you so bad--”

Immediately, he picked up his pace once again, adding more pressure to your clit, and you jerked. “That’s a good girl.”

“Ah, ah, Suna, fuck, I love-- you, ahhh…” You cried, feeling moisture spill down your thighs as your stomach erupted for the second time that night.

For a moment he stilled, and you bit your lip in tired confusion. Did he want you to beg again? You weren’t sure you had another round in you.

You looked over to see him with a shocked expression on his face, but it quickly melted into smugness again once he caught you staring at him. “Of course you love me while I’m fucking you like this,” he growled finally. “It’s because you’re such a slut for it, right?”

Your mouth dropped open, but you didn’t have time to say anything as he started moving once again, making you yelp at the overstimulation. Had you said you loved him? Out loud? Oh my god…

“Have I fucked you stupid already?” he purred in your ear, pulling out of your dripping cunt before slamming back in and picking up his pace. You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his as all thoughts flew from your head.

“S-Suna I--” You could barely speak, it felt so good, despite the fact that you had already come. Twice.

He began to pant in your ear, groaning as his grip on your hips tightened.“F-fuck--” He grunted, arms sliding around your waist as he jerked and came.

You both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and Suna easily pulled the condom from his dick before tying it and tossing it in the trash. After a long moment, you rolled to your feet to padded over to where your clothes lay--until you realized that your leggings had a massive rip in them.

“Suna!” You cried, holding up the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, and had the decency to at least look vaguely guilty.

“Sorry.”

“What do I wear?!”

“Here.” He threw the shirt he had been wearing earlier at you, and you gave him a glare.

He had already wiped himself down with the tissues on the counter, and had pulled on his sweatpants once again, leaving him shirtless. His eyes swept lazily down your still naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and you crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Suna,” You snapped, but finally pulled his shirt over your head, not seeing another option. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you said, before heading out the door without waiting for a response.

The bathroom was thankfully right down the hall, and thankfully empty. You didn’t feel very guilty about fucking Suna when you should have been communicating in a healthy way, but you definitely still felt mad.

After you had wiped all the fluids from your inner thighs and core, you headed back to the room to grab the rest of your stuff.

You found Suna on his phone lying on the bed, but he looked up as you came in.

“Where are you going?” He said as you gathered your stuff, and you huffed.

“Back to my dorm.”

“Wait,” he lunged out of the bed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t go.”

“Now you want to spend time with me?”

“Just...stay. Please.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Fine.”

His expression relaxed into a happy smile, and he dragged you onto the bed with him before flicking out the lights. You weren’t sure what time it was exactly, but you were sure it was far past two in the morning. Your eyelids drooped as Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

You were right on the edge of sleep when he murmured, “Did you mean it?”

Immediately you were awake; you knew exactly what he meant. “U-um--” You hadn’t worked out any of the problems between you two, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same way. How were you supposed to admit to loving him like this?

“It’s fine,” he finally muttered. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

You swallowed. “Yes. I did mean it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt Suna tense around you.

“Really?”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to say it. “Yes... I love you.”

You felt his sigh against your air, ticking the little hair on the back of your neck. His hand slid across your stomach while the other gently began to stroke your hair, and the movement had you relaxing despite the tears that had built up at his lack of response.

You closed your eyes and set it aside; you would deal with it tomorrow. Now, it was time for sleep.

“I love you too.” You heard, so soft that it was almost just a breath of air.

It was probably just a dream.

#suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #haikyuu suna #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #smut

140 notes · View notes

zero-cycle · 2 years ago

Note

I saw the thing about speedrunners fundraising for reproductive rights? I don't usually watch speedruns, so I was wondering if you could give me some more information on them? Maybe a suggestion on which to watch?

Hi, welcome and thanks for your interest!

If you just generally want to learn about speedrunning minecraft, this document created by twice former world record holder Couriway should cover most of the modern strategies used. If you want to dig more into the technical stuff (which is super interesting and after i started getting more into mcsr, I know now more about the f3 menu than I'll ever need), K4yfour on youtube is a great place to start.

There's a A Lot of runners participating and who you'll enjoy to watch will vary wildly, but I'll try to give you some different options, which should cover both streaming styles and timezones.

The most "beginner-friendly" is probably Couriway (he/him, twitch.tv/couriway). He's also one of the two people behind this whole thing and the person who had the initial idea! I have it on good authority (I'm friends with some of his mods) that he'll be streaming daily for this charity event and you can just check him out. He tends toward calmer and more relaxed streams and as one of the few people in mcsr with a lot of experience in no reset runs, he's probably the chillest streamer you'll find. He's also absolutely cracked at the game and does not run with calculators. He does, however, use axis calculated which is probably going to look like using a calculator to you anyway unless you're familiar with how it works.

He usually starts streaming in the middle of the afternoon for europe.

Mads (any pronouns, twitch.tv/madsenvy) and Eli (any pronouns, twitch.tv/elisthetic) would be two more beginner choices, since both of them aren't regular runners themselves. I can't vouch for their stream style since I've never watched them, but every time I talked to either of them they were very nice. There's also a decent chance that both of them will have more experienced runners on stream to help coach them through runs (no matter what Feinberg will probably show up in mads' stream since they are together), so that could also be a fun way to learn more about strats.

On the other end of streaming schedules we have Draconix (he/they, twitch.tv/draconix6) and Moley (he/him, twitch.tv/moleyg). They're from New Zealand and Australia respectively and both cracked out of their mind. Moley especially already has experience with no reset runs so tuning into his streams will probably be fun.

Another late-night (for them) and early morning in europe streamer would be Switch (any pronouns, twitch.tv/switch). Their streams are very similar to Couriway's in my opinion, very chill and relaxed vibes, though occasionally chat can completely derail a conversation and Switch enthusiastically participates in the derailing. Definitely always a fun time.

Also lovingly known as the only european streamer that actually streams at european times, Marcus (he/him, twitch.tv/fireworkss) is another, more laid-back streamer. He always likes to answer questions though and his chat is small, but very nice.

Fulham(he/him, twitch.tv/fulham), who's british and it is blatantly not reflected in his stream schedule, has announced he'll be coaching Jojosolos on friday, who's occasionally been running lately, so this is also something you might want to check out!

And then finally, President Poundcake (he/him, twitch.tv/president_poundcake) is my last recommendation. While he isnt't the best at speedrunning (notably compared to his peers, half of which are former world record holders anything between twice or thirty times over), he absolutely makes up for it with hilarious streams. He's extremely funny and can make every minute of eight hours of resetting straight entertaining.

Good luck, and if you have more questions, if you shoot me another ask or a dm i will Probably see it.

#mcsrrr #answered

9 notes · View notes

joshjacksons · 3 years ago

Text

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I��m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

57 notes · View notes

tinytourist · 3 years ago

Text

Lucky Ladies eat the Supermarket Poke

On Friday morning, the guys and I played tennis at the hotel before packing our bags for Kaua’i. After a kerfuffle with the taxi company, we got to the Grand Hyatt just before dinner. We ate high quality sushi at Stevenson’s Library on the premises.

Peggy arranged a tour of Hanapepe Valley and Waimea Canyon for Saturday. Our guide for the day, Noah, was knowledgeable, chill, and a great orator. We stopped at many different lookout points along the route, each of which gave us a different perspective of the canyon.

During the drive, Noah told us the tale of Humehume, the lost prince of Kaua’i. In the 1800s, the King of Kaua’i paid an American captain to take his 5-year-old son, Humehume, to the States for an American education. It is said that the King did this in the hopes that his son would return as an ambassador and help protect the island from being conquered.

From that point on, Humehume’s life was filled with strife, manual labor, and misfortune. With a stroke of luck, Humehume was finally reunited with his family by some Christian missionaries when he was in his twenties.

Noah was filled with tales like this. He was also knowledgeable about the local plants and was able to pick fresh guava fruit off of the trees he spotted from the road. We stopped at Ishihara Market for some of the most affordable, high-quality poke we’ve ever had.

Next up, we went to the Allerton Garden for a sunset tour. There, we learned about a variety of endemic and non-native plants that grow in Hawaii. The highlights of the night were the bamboo forest and the Moreton Bay fig or Australian banyan trees.

The following day, we left the resort in the afternoon to get to our 5-hour long Nā Pali Coast sunset cruise. The staff on board the Lucky Lady were all super friendly, chill, and helpful. From the boat, we were able to view Waimea Canyon from below, along with beautiful ridged sea cliffs. We were also lucky enough to see flying fish or mālolo. I got a little sea sick in the last hour or so but kept it together.

On Monday we got up early for a tour of the southeast side of the island. First, we visited Poipu Beach to see the sea turtles resting on the sand. Our next two stops were lookouts of the Menehune Fishpond and Wailua Falls.

Between stops, Jon insisted that we stop at a 7/11 so he could try some pork buns. After Jon’s snack, we stopped at a Hindu Monastery and an overlook of ‘Ōpaeka’a Stream. The monastery had a mini Banyan tree forest and a beautiful view of the north fork of the Wailua River.

Our next viewing spot was of the Kilauea Point National Wildlife Refuge and lighthouse. There, we saw red-footed boobies and white-tailed tropicbirds.

En route to our next destination, a metal plate on the bottom of our guide’s car partially detached and began dragging along the road. We hung out for a while before our guide’s friend came and took the plate off.

Continuing with the tour, we went to Black Pot Beach which provided us with a view of the shoreline and mountains. The water on this beach was shallow and calm for hundreds of meters. We took nice pictures from the pier and then went on our way. The last stop of the day was the Hanalei Valley lookout, where we were able to see the taro fields.

We went back to the hotel for a quick change and then headed back out for dinner at Merriman’s. There, we celebrated Peggy’s big birthday and had the best fish of the trip, Macadamia-Crusted Mahi Mahi. We got Peggy a complimentary birthday mousse and candle that she almost sent back due to the lack of chocolate. After dinner, we got sucked into a bamboo store, bought some clothes, and were tempted by a mattress.

The next morning, we popped champagne at Brennecke’s before heading to the airport for the final leg of our trip.

#hawaii #Kauai #usa

2 notes · View notes

greedygreedyphilza · 4 years ago

Note

Hello there!! Its a bit later than usual for me and im just vibing to Ranboo's stream rn :]]] but!! Its an incredibly cute idea to me that the ultimate show of trust from an hardcore player and survival player is letting them onto their hardcore world! As its letting someone into the most dangerous, but also the evidence of their survival and trusting the other to not hurt them in the home of their own making :]]] as majority of hardcore players prove their love through their actions more than anything else!! So YES the idea of philza simultaneously not being used to techno in his world but also so incredibly happy that he is there!! Philza will deny to this day that he practically chirped at techno when he arrived he was so happy sjsjsks

Philza also *might* purposely have a couple of his crows always following techno and techno know that they're philzas cause they constantly give him both presents and pester him non-stop, see the cat in the dark wood mansion incident SJSJSJS he doesn't understand the crows but his voices somehow do??? Which is just, an recipe for disaster sjsjsjsj

-hardcore anon :]]]

(admittedly a bit shorter today cause I slept horribly last night, I should go to sleep before 7am SJAJS)

(but!! I hope you had a good day today :]] also would you ever be against me talking a bit but about that fanfic I mentioned? If not that's completely fine :))) it's a role and age swap type thing which im really excited about sjsjs)

(againihopeyouhadagooddayokaybyeeeeee)

good afternoon hardcore anon!!! (at least it is for me) i had meant to answer this last night but brain go brrrrrr so here i am. anyway i hope you enjoyed ranboo’s stream :D

i love the idea that hardcore player’s worlds are like sacred to them and that they have to trust you a lot for them to let you into. like showing someone close to you something you have worked really hard and long on hits different if you know what i mean. we love acts of service in this household, its the love language i headcanon c!techno and c!philza to be the most partial to (though maybe gift giving a bit more for techno). but yes give philza more bird traits ty, but i love this idea that he’s just kinda very excited but also just staring at techno because he’s not used to him being there and it’s weird to see another person in his world.

adore the idea that phil had crows following techno around because it makes so much sense and i feel like if he could control the crows in this context he definitely would have them watch over people. but i love the idea that the voices can understand them and some try to translate for techno and others do it so poorly that techno knows they’re lying about what they said.

get good sleep hardcore anon!!! >:(, though i can very much relate because i wasn’t able to sleep very much until yesterday because sometimes brain go brrrr and i’m not tired. but get good sleep it is very important!!! i had an okay day yesterday but today has been pretty good, most of my teachers are very chill on fridays so that’s always nice. pls tell me about your fic! you can dm me about it if you want if you wanna not spoil anything but if that makes you uncomfy you can always just send an ask as well! i saw like role and age swap art forever ago with techno and phil and i loved it but the op only had that one art and i couldn’t find much else on it but i think it’s super interesting to play with how their dynamics are the same and different with the different roles and ages and such so yes please talk to me about it! i hope you had a good day as well, hardcore anon!

#dweamy asks #hardcore anon!!!#i have a free class rn so i am answering this #but with the drama last night and me not being able to focus on one thing my brain was just going brrrrrr #so instead of like half ass it last night i wanted to wait to answer it today so i could give a proper responce

4 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 years ago

Text

B for Chemistry, now live

Forgetting Dean was live early this week, Claire barges in to share the good news about her recent grade.

This is part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series.

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed something or you want me to tag something, cause I’ll happily do it without question!

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been going well for a while now, a few weeks actually. Claire was feeling a bit guilty about lying about her parents to her friends and she was toying with the idea of telling them. She had talked about it with Pops and Papa and they were chill with it, so now it was more waiting for a good moment to bring it up.

The moment came a few days later. Claire knew Pops had uploaded the burger video with Papa yesterday and she was talking with Rey and Mary about it during the break. Then it turned to theories. Rey said: “We’re not touching them with a ten feet pole on our insta anymore.”

“Yeah, we learned our lesson.” Mary agreed.

“Exactly, but it is quite curious what people have been saying.” Rey said.

“What have they been saying then?” Claire asked, never having pretended she was a hardcore fan, but a willing listener.

Rey answered: “Well, the videos have had some weird cuts since the documentary and Dean stopped himself from saying some stuff during the live streams. So, there are a few theories he’s hiding something.”

“Hiding what?” Claire asked, raised brow.

“That he has a kid.” Mary said.

Claire chocked on her lunch and there was a bit of chaos as she coughed, trying not to die. When everything had settled down, Mary asked: “Are you alright?”

Claire nodded after which Rey asked: “What was that all about?”

Deciding that something better than this wasn’t going to come, Claire answered: “They’re right.”

“What?” the two others said.

“The theorists.” Claire expanded, “They’re right about the kid.”

“And how would you know that?” Rey asked, not sure why Claire would be saying that.

“Cause I’m the kid.” Claire shrugged.

It was silent for a moment, as Mary and Rey processed the new information with open mouths. Then they both exclaimed different things. Mary yelled: “Are you serious?” and Rey: “What! Are you fucking joking? That’s not funny, Claire!”

“I’m not joking.” Claire said, raising her hands in innocence, “At first we weren’t sure if it was going to work and stuff and Pops, uhm, Dean didn’t want to give me the feeling he only took me in for the views, so we just shut up about it. I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how.”

“You aren’t joking?” Rey asked with wide eyes.

Claire smirked and shook her head: “I’m not, you can come over after school if you want to. I’ve been dying to show you my room, I got a big bed and everything. It’s amazing.”

“Oh my gosh, you are completely serious.” Rey said, sharing a look with Mary filled with disbelief and excitement.

Then Marys face fell and embarrassed she said: “Oh no, we’ve been talking with you about your dad the entire time, that must be so shit, I’m so sorry.”

Rey also blushed in embarrassment and Claire reassured the two: “I didn’t mind, it was pretty funny and at first also comforting that he didn’t seem a complete asshole from your perspectives, about Cas too.”

The two groaned again when Cas was mentioned, they had talked quite a lot about their favorite teacher/husband of their idol.

Claire laughed at them and said: “It’s okay, really.”

The bell rung and they all had different lessons. Claire stood up and told them to just come over that afternoon, before she walked off.

That afternoon the three got off at Claire stop and she walked over to her house. The Impala stood in the garage, so they couldn’t tell from that. Mary and Rey were still on the fence about the whole thing, but when Claire had opened the door they heard a very familiar voice yell: “Claire, that you?”

Claire yelled back: “Yeah, it’s me. I brought friends.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and in the hall arrived Dean, it was really him. Seeing that her two friends were speechless, she said: “This is Rey and that’s Mary. You know them right?”

Dean grinned at the two and stuck out his hand: “I heard a lot about you two, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dean.”

Still speechless Mary shook his hand, but Rey had regained speech a bit and said: “Same, uhm, hi. I’m Rey.”

Claire laughed at her friend and Rey snapped right out of it and shoved her with a: “Shove off, Claire.”

Claire just stuck out her tongue at her friend, before pushing past Dean into the kitchen while asking what the other two wanted to drink. Dean stuck his head around the corner and said: “Do you need anything or can I go back upstairs. I was in the middle of editing when you came in.”

“Oh, no, you can go back to work.” Claire said after she’d thrown a look over her shoulder.

“Okay,” Dean said, then he asked: “Your day good?”

Claire nodded: “Yeah, just the usual. Mr. Delaneys class was pretty boring though, he spend fifteen minutes talking about his fishing trip.”

“Ugh, that is boring.” Dean agreed, then he bid his goodbye and left Claire with her friends, glad that she made them and was comfortable enough to bring them back home.

That was now a few weeks ago already and everything had still been going well Dean hadn’t slipped up during his live streams yet and all the videos were triple checked before they went up on the channel. And he had even managed to make two videos with Cas without giving it away.

And Cas hadn’t mentioned suddenly being a father in his classroom either.

So yeah, it had been going well.

But knowing the Novak-Winchesters that had to come to an end sooner rather than later.

It was ten weeks after Claire had moved in that it happened. Dean was doing his live stream on a Friday this week, since they’d planned to go on a family trip that weekend and he didn’t want to be working on it.

He had told Cas and Claire that, this morning and Cas was dutifully in the kitchen leaving his husband on his own. Although he had appeared on the channel multiple times now, he was still rather self conscious and he wanted to be able to review his words later and have a say in what went online about him, so he hadn’t joined in on a live stream yet.

Claire, however, had completely forgotten. She was home a little later that day, since she’d gone out with her friends for a milkshake and since this morning to celebrate. Claire had never been good at Chemistry, but she had studied very hard and gotten a B on her last test. So after the milkshake she had rushed home to tell her Pops and Papa.

She slammed open the door, startling Cas and Dean. She had heard Deans voice from the living room and assumed he was in there talking to Cas, so unthinkingly she barged in and yelled: “Pops! I got a B for Chemistry.”, while she ran and jumped on the couch to give him a hug.

Dean caught her, letting the laptop drop from his lap. Before the two had recovered Cas was already running through the hall, calling out: “Claire, wait! He’s doing a live stream!”

But he was too late.

When the words registered Claire jumped back with an apology and just looked at Dean with big eyes, which he returned. Cas had now appeared in the doorway and he asked: “Is it salvageable?”

Dean leaned over his fallen laptop and read out loud: “‘What happened?’ ‘Is that a girl? Is he cheating?’ ‘Did she call him Pops?’ ‘Was she talking about Chemistry?’ And it goes on and on.”, he looked over at Cas and shook his head, “You can fill in the rest.”

They both looked at Claire, who was biting her lip as she thought about what to do.

Dean was about to stop the stream when Claire surprised everyone, including herself, by saying: “Wait!”, she went on, “It’s okay, it’s my fault anyway. Besides I read everything about when Cas did this, I think I hate the thought of the theories more, you know?”

“Uh, okay,” Dean stammered, “Uhm, wanna come over here then?”

Claire got up as Dean picked up the laptop and told the viewers: “Like I said with Cas, this was a mess-up, not a promise and not a reason to pry, okay? Be nice everyone.”

Then Claire sat down next to him and waved, not really smiling, but doing that awkward lip thing. She said: “Uhm, hi everyone. I’m Claire, uh, Cas was my dads cousin and they found me and took me in.”

“And we couldn’t be more proud of her.” Dean smiled.

Claire shoved him lightly and said: “Don’t be sappy, old man.”

Dean rolled his eyes an replied: “I’m not old, I’m 28.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Claire said, but she smiled as well. Then she glanced at the screen and involuntarily commented: “Jikes.”

Instantly Dean got serious as he looked at the comments and asked: “What is it? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Claire assured him, “I just read: Dean is really Daddy now. And I suddenly felt the need to barf.”

Dean cringed and agreed: “Yeah that’s pretty bad.”

Cas also appeared in the background to read along on the screen, he pulled a few faces at the dirtier comments, but concluded that over all it could’ve been much worse. While he was reading them, Dean and Claire were still talking.

“So, a B for Chemistry.” Dean said, “That’s amazing! I know you worked hard on that. Well done.”

Claire smiled and thanked him.

Dean went on: “We are celebrating this tonight, yeah. What do you say, movies and ice cream?”

Claire smirked: “Heck yeah.”

The Dean turned to the chat, before turning back to Claire and asking: “Is it okay, if I say a few things about you?”

“Yeah, sure, go for it.” Claire shrugged.

“Wanna be here for it?” he asked.

Claire shrugged again, before answering: “Not particularly, no. Just tell them not to go digging or something that’s just creepy.”

“Of course.” Dean said, then he turned to the camera and said: “I’m serious everyone. One) she’s a minor, two) it’s basic fucking human decency, three) I will take legal action against you, no this is not a joke.”

After that Claire waved again, before leaving, but she did stay to watch, just from the other side of the lens.

Dean turned to Cas and asked: “Do you want to stay or not, angel?”

Cas looked at Claire, who nodded, then replied: “Yes, I will. Thank you, Dean.”

“Okay, lets start.” Dean said as he clapped his hands, “Firstly, sorry, but this has to be done, but I’m not risking it, so I’m just going to say this all again. I want you all out of her private life okay. Don’t go looking for her on social media, don’t Google her, just don’t, okay. Secondly, this isn’t going to be a regular thing. I’ve said it before, but I’m not here to make money of children, okay. You all weren’t even supposed to know and this is again nothing against you, but people deserve their privacy and with an online community like this I simply cannot guarantee that.”

He saw a few comments and said: “No, it’s not like Cas. He had thought about it after and just wanted the guessing and digging to end. The fact that he’s on my channel from time to time is not the same. Stop it or I will not proceed.”

Claire was feeling pretty guilty about the whole thing. If she’d just thought for a moment, before barging in this whole thing wouldn’t have happened and Pops could’ve just be having fun with his subscribers.

Castiel noticed her look and cocked his head in the questioning manner that had become so familiar to her. She waved it away and scribbled down on a post it note: Later. And showed it to him.

Dean was meanwhile continuing: “Now that I’ve said that, I can tell you all some more fun stuff. Me and Cas got ourself a real talented lady. She’s been living here for ten weeks now, which was why I took the break if you guys remember that. Anyway, she is really smart and funny, but don’t tell her I said that or she’ll get an ego.” Dean grinned at the last part, fully knowing that Claire was right there.

Cas piped in: “She really is. It’s amazing to see how well she fits into our little family here. It probably wasn’t easy for her to suddenly uproot her life and come here to live with us, but we’re grateful every day that she did.”

“Jup.’ Dean agreed, “It is great to see. Is there anything else except that, Cas? Don’t go looking for her and she’s epic and we love her and are proud of her.”

“I think that captures it quite well.” Cas smiled, then the smile dropped and he said: “Wait, for the kids at school. No drama about it, okay.”

“Good one, huggy-bear.” Dean said, “That was all then. Sorry that we have to cut this short, but I’m sure all of you will understand why. For those of you all that missed it, there won’t be a stream this Sunday, but the videos will continue on schedule.”

He ended the live stream and immediately rushed to Claires side and asked: “Are you okay? Do you need something? That was quite something, so suddenly.”

Claire shook her head and waved his concern away. She said: “It’s okay, really. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Dean pressed her again.

She blushed and said: “Yeah, I kind of like it. Just knowing that this is real and having other people confirm it or something, if that makes sense?”

Cas and Dean smiled back and hugged her. Dean gave her a kiss on the head and murmured: “Makes perfect sense, sweetheart.”

After they’d sat there for a while, Claire checked her phone. She had heard it buzzing, but hadn’t been in the mood to see. Ignoring most messages, she opened the groups chat with Rey and Mary, who had been yelling at her.

The two had lessened the Dean talk, to make Claire less uncomfortable and had decided that tey could watch the stream later when they went out with Claire for milkshakes. They’d assumed she knew, but when they’d gotten back to catch the last part they had been startled to see her and were texting her to check up on her.

Claire appreciated it and assured them that she was okay, for now. She was packing the last of her stuff and decided to turn her phone off that weekend. She let Rey and Marty know, before turning the device off and chucking it in her bag, just in case.

Meanwhile, downstairs Dean was pacing as he worried. Cas watched him for a while, but he couldn’t take it and stopped him. He said: “It’s going to be alright, Dean.”

Dean gave him a look and replied: “We don’t know that, Cas. Everything could go wrong and terrible and she could hate us.”

“She won’t.”

“She might.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see, because we can’t look into the future. Lets just focus on here, we’re going to do something fun, don’t let later ruin that for you.” Cas told him, ever so wise.

Later, he thought. Dean could do later.

Yes, later he would check up on what everyone was saying, even make good on some of the threats he had made, but for now he was too busy loving his little girl. He was busy celebrating her win over Chemistry and then he was busy making sure she had the best first family weekend she’d had in years.

Yeah, he had more important things to worry about than some people on the Internet, especially when he now had a picture of Cas and Claire leaning against each other in the back of his baby, both fast asleep.

#RR writing #dean winchester #castiel/dean #dean x castiel #castiel #Destiel #married destiel #Destiel AU #destiel youtuber au #claire novak #dean and cas are claires dads #supernatural #spn fanfic #SPN #youtuber dean #TEACHER CAS

14 notes · View notes

morethanaprincess-a · 5 years ago

Note

Forelsket

Non-translatable words prompt

Forelsket - The euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love

If she focused on the seaside buildings around her and the excited chatter of the crowd below, Sonia could nearly forget that she was in Japan at all. The early spring breeze chilled her right through the seafoam green dress she wore, the translucent material covering a single shoulder doing little to keep her warm. And yet everything beyond the temperature felt warm from the balcony of the room at Hotel Miracosta: the strings of lights, the music, the excited voices below as thousands of faces turned to the night sky, eager to see the theme park’s fireworks, and a volcano that loomed over it all. Every so often it seemed like it would erupt, with rumbling sounds and trace amounts of lava streaming down the sides. But it didn’t: instead, everything felt safe yet thoroughly exciting. What she’d hoped from her first trip to a proper amusement park.

But as much as she wanted to lose herself entirely in the atmosphere, she wondered what Hajime would think of it all. The train ride, one they’d rushed to make that Friday afternoon after the reserve course was released for a long weekend, had mostly been a quiet one. Out of politeness on her end more than anything else: he hadn’t told her whatever he’d told his parents to allow him to go with a friend, not even a proper classmate, to Disneyland over the weekend. Perhaps it was only her parents that would have required a thorough background check on anyone she spent sufficient time with in the absence of any proper security. So she wondered if Hajime’s parents, perfectly normal people by the way he spoke of them, were the same. Still, it was an opportunity that they’d somehow gotten away with. The only protest she’d expected would be on Hajime’s end: she’d not only bought the tickets, but had reserved a nice hotel for them to stay.

Resembling an Italian port town, the hotel was reminiscent of southern Novoselic to her, its more temperate climate towns built around rivers with all their commerce and life revolving around the water. It was only the addition of cartoon characters, subtly placed in the interior decor, that reminded her that she was still away from home. Yet unlike home, they’d taken a second class train car as close as it would get them to the theme park and a crowded standard car the rest of the way, leaving them both exhausted by the time they arrived at nearly 8 o’clock. Still, she’d made reservations for nice, filling dinner at the hotel’s luxurious buffet (and wouldn’t hear of any protests from Hajime on that front, either), with every guide she’d read indicating that a good dinner and a night’s sleep were the best way to begin a trip to Disney when it was too late to visit the parks upon arrival.

After they’d marveled over the room, with its two queen sized beds and the balcony she now closed herself off on, he’d been polite and let her freshen up and change for dinner first. Something she was far more grateful for than she let on. But as she washed her face and applied her lipstick, Sonia wondered if her general euphoria was the magic of the park itself or how fuzzy and warm she felt when he smiled. A question she continued to ponder as she combed through her hair and zipped up the side of her dress. If she were to plan an excursion for both the Main and Reserve courses at school, she could’ve invited someone far more instrumental in making that happen: Chiaki, or maybe even Byakuya Togami, whose influence she’d likely need to prevail upon to make her dream of uniting the school come true. But there was no other choice for her: it was Hajime, it could only be Hajime. Something she couldn’t bring herself to utter aloud but when she mulled over it too long, her cheeks turned pink.

The loud boom of the first red firework over the lagoon nearly drowned out the turn of the doorknob behind her. And yet her focus was on the softer sound, the lights in the sky reflecting off the brass knob. Turning, Sonia ignored the music and rainbow of lights in the sky that the rest of the DisneySea attendees were so enamored by. Her attention, from her gentle look to the soft smile on her lips, belonged entirely to him. At least her hands could grip the stone railing she now leaned against: otherwise she might have started to fidget, anything to distract her from her rapidly beating heart and how shy she suddenly felt in Hajime’s presence. “Did you want to watch the fireworks first or may I take you to dinner?” She asked quietly, though in the privacy of their own room and balcony it was unlikely they’d be overheard. Nevertheless it was still a secret she wasn’t ready to announce, even to him.

#more-than-a-princess answered #non-translatable words prompt #(There was a logical progression of events so I went for it)#(Though what Sonia has planned is pretty scandalous with them having to share a room and all)#(And she's only somewhat aware of it)#kiboumukou

1 note · View note

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 13 - Come Sunday

I was in the back of an Uber on my way to the label when it came on the radio. I wasn’t really paying attention--more just mindlessly scrolling on my phone--when I heard words that sounded eerily familiar.

Hearing my songs on the radio wasn’t new--I’d grown used to hearing phrases that once felt intimate get cycled in and out of headphones, radios and stereos alike. But my mouth went a bit dry, though, when I realized that not only was this song mine and mine alone, but it was also on Capital FM.

One Direction had made it big, clearly. Their singles were on the most popular radio stations and played in every mall across the world. But my song, with a different artist, and not written with the help of four or five other people, this felt like a different accomplishment entirely.

I didn’t want to ask the driver to turn it up, so instead, I leaned forward and closed my eyes to listen more closely.

In aIl honesty, I hadn’t paid much attention to all of the meetings I’d had with Julian in the week since I’d been back from the States. I had signed on the dotted line like I always had--I’d get X percent, the label would get a different chunk, and a large piece to the artist(s).

I’d met the two girls, Bella & Rae--as they were calling themselves, and they felt like a good fit. They could produce harmonies that sounded chilling and beautiful at the same time, which definitely sounded better than my double tracks on protools.

But I hadn’t really prepared for the song to do this well. The group was new--they’d done some small tours around the U.K., mostly some songs they’d written and some covers. They were popular on the small club scene, and it almost felt safe to give my first solo song to them.

They weren’t huge--if the song was a flop, if they were a flop, no one would have to know.

Hearing the song I’d written on my couch about Harry over the speakers in my Uber felt as if people would know. Suddenly, what was once a private moment of uncertainty and heartache was suddenly public, accessible, and on the radio.

When the Uber pulled up to the label, I was surprised to see Julian waiting outside. I reached for the backpack I was bringing my computer in and gave him a wave as I climbed out.

“Hi,” I said, offering a smile as he stepped forward on the sidewalk to greet me. People rushed around us--it was a Friday afternoon, and the building we were heading into was sure to be buzzing with weekend-ready people.

“Have you seen the charts?” He asked, turning on his heel to join me as we headed for the door.

“For the song?”

“Yeah--Maggie, it’s number four.”

“Number four?” I asked, my mouth hanging for a second before I picked up my own jaw. It’s not like that song wasn’t any good--I mean, it was a good one. For some reason, though, I hadn’t expected my work to be so well received.

Writing for a big name like One Direction--even when they were getting started--provided a bit of a safety net. We knew they had a fan base. Even if they didn’t last long or if they weren’t a mega-success, there’d be a group of people from the X-Factor crowd that would definitely bring things home.

Bella & Rae--on the other hand--had no platform. They had a following of maybe thirty thousand on social media and most of their distribution before the label was through Soundcloud.

And all of that, more or less, meant that my song was making it, on its own, without the help of a big named star.

“I think it’s gonna be number one, Mags. There’s already been booking requests for Bella & Rae. I think they’re going to get an LP deal. They can’t not.”

Julian and I made our way into the lobby, my head still kind of floating from the news and the energy around us. It was a warm day--warmer for Spring, at least, and I couldn’t help but let my mind drift.

Should I ask Julian why he played the song for Harry? Should I ask him what they said about me? Should I ask him about Harry in general?

“But anyway, I’m meeting you out here because Peter Bouchard wants to meet with you. He really likes the song.”

“Peter Bouchard?” His name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t meet with a lot of higher ups, maybe once in a while I’d deal with Mike--the Creative Director who seemed to have a knack for making me want to quit. That was, at least, until I got fired.

“He’s Mike’s boss.”

“Mike’s boss?”

Julian nodded, holding the elevator door open as we stepped inside. “He’s the one who gets to really make the final call about if the girls get an LP--Mike loves it, he’s totally on board.” The doors shut behind us, the elevator dinged to let us know it would fullfil our request to find the 17th floor.

“So why does he want to meet with me?” I asked, shifting my bag from one shoulder to another, suddenly nervous about the possible conversation. I couldn’t handle getting fired again. Twice in the span of twelve months? I’d be forced to move in with my parents just to deal with the emotional turmoil that would ensue.

“Dunno, Maggie, but Mike made it sound like it was good,” he could see the look on my face--the anxiety and the uncertainty that’d be sure to give me early wrinkles.

I didn’t reply. Instead, we stood in silence until the elevator dinged again, it’s doors opening to revolve a much nicer floor than the one with the writing rooms. We stepped off and I followed Julian down a carpeted hall--glass doors peered inside nice offices with dark wood desks and big apple computers.

He finally stopped in front of a door, turning the handle without warning to greet a man that I certainly recognized. He was old enough to be my father--gray hair on top of his head and a smile that seemed to make me only slightly less terrified.

“Maggie, come in, sit down,” he greeted, motioning to a chair opposite his desk. Julian landed in the one beside me, much more comfortable in Peter Bouchard’s presence than I was.

I slid into the seat, offering a small smile as I took inventory of my surroundings. A framed picture of three women--his wife and two daughters, presumably. A shelf of old vinyl lined the wall behind us--Peter was clad in a golf shirt, much less formal than I’d expect for Mike’s boss.

“We’re really glad that the song is having so much success--have you seen any of the numbers?”

I shook my head, looking over to Julian. I’d never seen any numbers for anything. I handed in my work, signed where I needed to, and got decent paychecks via direct deposit. I knew the percent of each song, each download, each album I’d be entitled to. I knew I signed away the rights to my songs when I started working with the label. They’d never really be mine again.

“Here,” Peter said, turning to his computer to open up the internet browser. He clicked open an email, typed in an address, and then shifted the monitor so Julian and I could see. “This is the live number of downloads from BPI. This is streaming numbers, so spotify, iTunes, the like,” he pointed at the screen, his number gracing over tiny zeros that lined up neatly.

“It’s number two now?” Julian asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “Jesus, Mags, even in the last half hour since I saw it it’s changed.”

I couldn’t help but smile--this felt much more personal than anything I’d written for One Direction or even for Harry. I’d written this song alone, it’d been born in my living room and it didn’t have a big name to ride on the coattails of.

Sure, I’d long been of the mindset that it was the writing skills of me and Chelsea and Kyle that really made the band what it had been. Take five good looking kids, slap them with good clothes and good hair, and sure, you’re bound to have some success. But if the music sucked, if the music was the same old simple pop that we’d poured out for the first album, they wouldn’t have lasted the way they did.

But then again, maybe there was a part of me that wondered if that was really true. Because here, in Peter Bouchard’s office, it felt incredibly reassuring to know that I could write good songs--successful songs, really--that did fine enough on their own without the name of the world’s most popular boy band.

“The reason I wanted to meet with you, Maggie, is because we’re interested in buying a back catalog, if you have one.”

If I had one? Of course I had one--of course I had a book of songs and endless iPhone notes of demos with shitty three part harmony done on Garageband on my Mac until I could get into the studio.

“Oh,” I said, letting his words take a second to settle. It was strange--I would have guessed that he’d want to buy a few more, get a little more information about the genre I typically wrote, hear more of my solo work. Instead, he seemed ready to write me a check. “Really?”

Julian let out a laugh, leaning back in his chair as if he were a proud older brother.

“Yes, really,” Peter nodded. “You did amazing things with One Direction and it was rather stupid of us to let you go in November.”

I bit at my lip, feeling a swell of emotion in my chest. He was right--and not in the sense that I was the most amazing thing they’d ever had or ever would, but he was right in the sense that I had a knack for shaping words into a story that floated above the melody.

“Will you at least consider it? Take a look at what you have--demos, finished products, really, and let me know what you think would be an appropriate fee?”

Oh, right, the money. I looked to Julian quickly. I had no idea what he meant. Me come up with the appropriate fee? Me tell them what I wanted them to pay me for my finished songs? Julian nodded in encouragement, so I spit the words out of my mouth.

“Yeah, sure, absolutely.”

Peter stood from his chair and reached his hand out to shake mine. “We’re thrilled, Maggie, really. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

I was sat on my couch, staring at the computer in front of me and the notepad I’d scribbled some numbers on. I had 43 songs that were whole and finished and polished enough to hand over to the label. Out of that number, 25 were actually good enough to be on someone’s album. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to come up with a price for the songs I’d given so much energy. There were the first three songs I’d written when Harry and I started spending time together, one that I wrote when the band broke up, another angry one that had been written sometime after Zayn left.

There were four or five from the summer of 2012 when I briefly dated a boy that Chelsea had introduced me to--stupid and romantic. There were plenty of sad ones--some about being lonely, about being hurt, about making mistakes.

Did I charge a price for each song? Did I add on a percentage I wanted if they got released and distributed on various platforms? I certainly didn’t have the answer, but I was hoping that Harry would. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he’d want to even discuss anything money related, but I figured he at least didn’t want me to get taken advantage of by a big name label.

I typed out a question and erased it three times before finally pressing send.

Do you have a few minutes to talk? The label offered to buy my catalog and I have no clue how to handle the pricing.

I set my phone down on the couch and heated up some food, picking it back up with a bowl of leftover pasta in my hand. Still nothing. I watched an episode of Jane The Virgin and then I finally heard my phone ring.

I pressed the green button and held it up to my ear, trying to calm the heartbeat that was slowly rising in my chest. “Hey,” I said casually, hoping he’d be less boundaried than last time.

“Hi,” his voice was low, I wondered where he was. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said quickly, standing from my spot on my couch to move towards the window that overlooked my street.

“So they want to buy your catalog?” He let out a little bit of a laugh, I pulled my head back in offense.

“Are you surprised by that? You sound surprised.”

“M’not surprised, Maggie,” he let out a sigh. “I’m happy for you.”

I cut to the chase, mostly out of fear that going off script would lead to an argument or more chest pain than I was already experiencing. “Well--do you have any idea how I’m supposed to come up with a figure? I mean, Pete Bouchard should know this stuff, right? Shouldn’t they give me a number?”

“You’ve got to up-sell yourself, Maggie. I heard that Paul McCartney sold a catalog once to someone for three or four million.”

“I’m not Paul McCartney,” I reminded him.

“I know--m’saying that you need to not be afraid to ask for what you think it’s worth.”

“I don’t know what it’s worth.”

He let out another sigh, and frankly, I was surprised that he was being as cordial and calm as he was. “How many songs?”

“Forty-three total, out of that, twenty something are decent.”

“M’sure they’re all decent,” he said, I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“How do I come up with it though? You’re missing my point altogether,” I accused.

He cleared his throat before replying. “Ten thousand each.”

“Ten thousand each?” I asked, unsure of how he’d even gotten that number.

“Yeah--I mean, if any of them are released it’ll be way more than that. You should ask for at least 10% of the final cuts. Albums, music videos, touring, et cetera.”

I let his words sink in for a second as I watched a couple walk hand in hand on the street below. Charlie, who was sat on the window sill, seemed to be peering up at the phone in my hand. Maybe I was crazy, but I swore it’s because he could recognize Harry’s voice.

“So you think I should walk in and ask Peter Bouchard for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” it was more of a statement and less of a question, but he answered me anyway.

“I do.”

“Why ten thousand each?”

He made an unpleasant noise and seemed to draw out my name. “Jesus, Maggie. You asked me to call and I gave you my answer.”

I pulled my head back, turned off by his sudden anger. “I just want to know where you got such a specific number from.”

“My head--I got it from my head.”

I was appreciative of the fact that Harry thought my songs were worth such good money--yet I was fearful that he’d be the only one. Peter Bouchard had no reason to pay me that much as far as I was concerned. Sure, I was in a business where people made a lot of money. In my time with the band I’d made more than the big figure already discussed, but that was over the span of five years.

“Alright, okay. I’ll do ten thousand each.”

“Tell Peter you spoke with me about it,” he said casually, as if that weren’t a big deal.

“What? No, I’m not telling him that.”

“Why not?” He sounded somewhat offended, I could picture the puppy eyes he had on as if I’d said he had a shitty taste in shoes (which he did).

“Because he doesn’t need to know that you and I,” I paused, wondering how on earth to describe what we were and how things were and what this was. “Talk,” I decided.

He let out a sigh, which was followed by an awkward pause as Charlie stretched his back and let out a loud meow.

“Is that Charlie?”

I let out a laugh, looking down at him as he cocked his head to look down at the people passing by. “Who else would it be?”

“How is he?”

I suddenly felt weird. I felt like Harry wasn’t allowed to ask how my cat was if he wouldn’t even have a conversation with me about our fight and our relationship. He didn’t get some type of double standard just because my feline companion had a strange attachment to him.

“He’s fine, but, I should go. I’ve got some stuff to do,” I lied.

“Yeah, okay, of course. Let me know, I guess, how it goes.”

“I will,” I nodded, wondering if he’d answer next time I called.

I met with Peter Bouchard on a Wednesday to discuss the financial compensation, which is the technical term he had used to describe it. It was rainy and cold for a Spring day in London, but Julian met me inside with a cup of tea and a smile on his face. It was all the encouragement I needed to walk into Peter’s office with the confidence to ask for enough money to pay for someone’s entire college education and first home in the state of Ohio.

Peter was friendly and excited that I was willing to make the deal, and he didn’t even flinch when I mentioned the number I had in mind. Maybe he was used to dealing with large sums of money, but he certainly played it cool when he took down more information to write up a contract.

So that night, when I was out to dinner with Kyle and Mark to celebrate, I gushed on and on about how I’d actually handled it all by myself (minus the input from Harry). I’d made a business deal, been responsible, and now was getting adequate compensation for something that I’d worked so hard on.

Bella & Rae’s song had been number one for a week straight, I’d already received a paycheck from that, so dinner, tonight, was on me.

“So what will be the next step? Can they sell your songs to anyone?” Kyle asked, picking up his wine glass to watch the legs drip down the side of the glass.

I was appreciative and grateful that kyle was happy for me--not that he wouldn’t be, but I did wonder if he’d feel strange that the label had brought me back and offered this deal. It wasn’t necessarily a stable gig, I certainly wasn’t a staff writer for them, but the money from my catalog would certainly hold me over for a while.

“Anyone signed to the label can record my songs,” I corrected. “Technically they own the rights and the royalties, but Peter said he’d work on a percentage of what I’d get from additional revenue--so tours, albums, stuff like that.”

Mark tilted his head to the side and let out a laugh. “Sweet deal, mate. Depending on how many they use, you’ll make money off of it for a long time.”

I nodded, taking a sip at my own drink. A pang of guilt hit me in the stomach--was I focusing too much on the financial aspect of this, exactly like Harry had accused?

I could understand his fear of me being with him for the wrong reasons, but that didn’t invalidate my need to be financially secure and responsible.

“You’re doing that thing,” Kyle laughed, reaching over to snap his fingers in front of my face. Mark reached for a piece of bruschetta and plopped it into his mouth. “Where you zone out and think about Harry.”

I rolled my eyes, thankful for the noise and the energy in the restaurant. We were only a few blocks from Kyle and Mark’s place--my uber ride home would be a good chance to call my mom.

“I’m not thinking about Harry,” I told them, waving a hand to dismiss his silly allegation.

As if on cue, my phone lit up on the table between us. It was face up, so there was no way to hide the name on the screen as a text message rolled in.

I looked down at it, then back up at them, both of whom were keeping their lips sealed together to avoid a smile. I reached for it before they could say anything, ignoring Kyle’s lazy attempt to small talk about the weather.

We’re having a wrap party for my album on Friday if you want to come.

I didn’t want to sound desperate or too eager, so I thumbed back a response slowly.

What time? I’m meeting with Julian that day.

It was a lie, but I doubted that Julian would out me if Harry ever mentioned it. I looked back up to my dinner dates, who were both munching on another bite of our appetizers.

“Things seem to be a little less hostile,” Kyle said with a smirk, bringing his wine glass up to his lips.

“Nothing’s happening,” I shook my head, still holding my phone in front of me. “He’s literally telling me something about his album. Relax.”

My phone buzzed again.

8pm. Hopefully I’ll see you there.

It wasn’t the fact that Chelsea had taken entirely too long to get ready for the party--it was more about the fact that now she was insisting on getting one more glass of champagne before we made our way over to the food.

She’d been in town for two nights so far, and she had me out and about all day doing the things she said she missed most about London (which, mostly, was just shopping at High Street shops). We’d had lunch and tea in the afternoon but that was four whole hours ago, and after trekking all over Mayfair, I was either about to throw up, or pass out. Both of which from lack of sufficient sustenance.

Pair that with the sweating that was occuring due to the proximity to Harry, and I was nothing less of a hot mess.

“There’ll be another waiter in one second,” Chelsea said quietly, completely annoyed by the way I was fanning myself.

“Just meet me over there,” I said, raising my hands in exasperation, stomping away and over towards the delicious table of finely placed miniature meatballs and fruit.

It wasn’t much of a selection, but I was starving and we weren’t likely getting a real meal any time soon--this seemed like more of a cocktail hour type of event.

I hadn’t even said hello to Harry. I saw Jeffrey first when we came in--he gave me a big hug and thanked me for coming. He greeted Chelsea and then brought me over to see Ryan and Tyler. I was grateful that things didn’t feel as weird as I’d expected, but I hadn’t yet seen everyone.

Chelsea, up until momentarily, had fulfilled her obligation of being my date. She stayed by my side and made small talk with people we didn’t know. She was the Queen of Humble Bragging about my catalog being sold to the label, which I think impressed Jeff Bhasker quite a bit.

Now, however, her heart was set on more alcohol and my stomach was set on food.

I forked four mini meatballs onto my plate and had just forked one into my mouth when I turned around and walked into Harry’s back.

“Hi!” I said, covering my mouth with my hand as I tried to swallow quickly. “Sorry--chewing.”

He let out a laugh and didn’t seem as angry as I’d expected. He was fine enough on the phone, but something told me that seeing him in person (without the barrier of technology) would be a whole different ball game.

“It’s good to see you,” he nodded, waiting for me to remove my hand from my mouth before moving in to give me an awkward side hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for--” I paused, unsure of how find the right words. “Inviting me?”

“Thanks for writing on the album,” he shrugged slightly, clearly running out of ways to make this as normal as possible.

The truth of the matter was that Harry and I had a lot of unfinished business. There were things that needed to be said and addressed and right now certainly wasn’t the time to do that. Chelsea sauntered up next to us, champagne flute in her hand, and held her glass up to clink against the one in Harry’s hand.

“Cheers, mate, to a great album. Haven’t heard it yet, but if Maggie wrote on it, I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

I rolled my eyes--but Harry found her toast amusing. He laughed and nodded in Chelsea’s direction. “She’s a great wingwoman, huh?”

“She’s something,” I tried to act as if I wasn’t completely overstimulated by the alcohol I’d drank, the noise in the restaurant, and the lack of food I’d eaten.

I didn’t have a chance, though, to plan my next move, because Peter Bouchard was suddenly in front of us and reaching an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me just how involved you were on Harry’s album, Maggie,” Peter said, his head tilted in a way that communicated his affection towards the both of us.

I hadn’t told Peter much about Harry’s album or my involvement with it, because, frankly, I didn’t know if Harry would cut out every song I’d written on when I left Jamaica. I kind of imagined that he’d find new songs, suddenly grow to hate the ones I’d been a part of. I hadn’t yet seen the track listing, however--I did my best to keep my distance.

“She was very involved,” Harry said with a nod, his smile somewhat solemn as he looked from Peter to me. “She’s very talented. You’re lucky to work with her.”

I could feel heat rise to my cheeks, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the attention on me at someone else’s album wrap party.

“Well, Harry’s a great guy, Maggie. Really went to bat for you in terms of payment for your catalog.”

The room seemed to freeze and suddenly my feet felt glued to the floor. “What?”

Harry’s eyes--which had been watching Peter as he spoke--were now as big as silver dollars. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

Chelsea took a swig of her champagne and looked on in pure shock.

“He wanted to make sure you got the money you deserved. And the catalog is amazing, really. We’re very excited to see who will be the right fit for each song.”

Peter, whose intentions were pure, didn’t understand that he needed to just stop talking. Harry, whose eyes were still wide and whose lips were still parted, seemed to teeter on his feet.

I looked up at him, thankful that Chelsea had stepped right in front of me to compliment Peter’s choice of suit, and turned to head for the door.

There was no use--for some reason Harry and I would never be on the same page. I was a Monday and he was a Friday. No matter how many times the sun would rise and set, we’d be on opposite ends of the week. We’d be the same number of days apart, the same number of sleeps between us.

Because if he wasn’t mad at me, I was mad at him. If he wanted to be with me, I didn’t want to be with him. And if we were finally brave enough to stop avoiding each other like the plague, something always came in between.

#come sunday #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb

57 notes · View notes

closetofanxiety · 6 years ago

Text

Mania Madness: In Queens With Queens Quest

Wrestlemania was in New York this year (well, New Jersey, but you know what they mean), and since I live about two and a half hours away, I felt like I would be failing in my duties as a wrestling fan if I didn’t attend some of the related events. Make no mistake: I did not want to go to Wrestlemania itself, as the idea of sitting in a football stadium and squinting at a faraway shape that might be Buddy Murphy in the springtime chill is not high on my bucket list. But there were lots of other things to do, and I did very few of them! I did go to see the Stardom show in Queens and to WrestleCon in Manhattan, though, and herewith are my observations, jotted down for posterity and, hopefully, your amusement and/or edification:

FRIDAY

I think this is only the second time Stardom has run a show in the U.S., and it’s definitely the first time they’ve done it amidst the surge of popularity they’ve experienced in the GIF era. Although going to visit Hakujinjoe in Tokyo is a goal towards which I am even now socking away money, there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever actually get to see Stardom in Japan, and so this was the must-see event of the weekend for me.

This anticipation was accompanied by two apprehensions: First, my nature reluctance to drive in New York City, even in the outer boroughs. I live in the woods, and your city ways frighten and confuse me. Second, based on many of the US joshi fans I have encountered online, I worried this crowd would basically be a giant convention for creepers, perverts, rageaholic gatekeepers, scam artists peddling $300 autographed gravure DVDs, and people who seem to have only a dim understanding that the characters portrayed in the ring are not, in fact, identical with the women portraying them. Listen: I am not exactly Cary Grant when it comes to wit and charm, and just being an American who watches Japanese women’s wrestling puts me among a tiny percentage of hardcore nerds, so I hope this doesn’t come off as haughty. But there are good nerds, and then there are the nerds we encounter online way too often.

The first apprehension turned out to be baseless, as I got to Queens with plenty of time to spare and, like most joshi fans, headed over to the Rufus King Homestead on Jamaica Avenue for a tour of the mansion once owned by the fiery antislavery advocate and signatory to the Constitution. OK, so I was the only joshi fan who toured the Rufus King Homestead (in fact, I was the only person, period; Rufus does not get much love), but I still learned a lot. Rufus King used to loan money at exorbitant rates to local farmers who owned slaves, and when they couldn’t pay him back, he’d accept the enslaved people as collateral, only to immediatly free them. Rufus King, Loan Shark For Justice!

It turns out the second apprehension was also baseles, because the crowd turned out to be full of awesome people. Really friendly, outgoing, and super enthusiastic nerds, the best kind of nerd, really. The dominant attitude was not, “Oh you like Stardom? Name five of their faction drafts” but “I can’t believe we all get to see this awesome show together.” It was also, by a country mile, the most diverse indie wrestling crowd I’ve been part of, and about 35-40 percent of the people in attendance were women, which really made the whole experience better. I’m not saying everyone was awesome, but it was definitely a fun group of people to be part of for an afternoon. I am ashamed that I assumed it would be full of unbearable dweebs.

So, that out of the way, here’s the highlights of the show, in the time-honored spaghetti Western sytem of categorization:

THE GOOD

Momo Watanabe vs. Utami Hayashishita: Easily the match of the day, and one of the best matches I’ve seen all year. The Queen’s Quest teammates were batling for Momo’s Wonder of Stardom title, which she won from the departing Io Shirai last year. I don’t just like Momo, I identify with her image as the studious but introverted nerd kid who thinks hard work and playing by the rules is enough to guarantee success, only to be constantly frustrated as flashier peers take shortcuts to the top. The tension between these two has been building since Utami’s debut last year and subsequent mega-push as The Big Rookie and Utami All-the-Belts. Momo, who put in years of quiet, dedicated work as Io’s understudy, is in danger of being usurped as Queen’s Quest leader by the newcomer before her tenure has really even gotten under way. This is a great basis for a wrestling match, and these two, aware they were in front of their biggest audience outside of Japan not just in person but watching on Fite, rose to the occasion. I’m terrible at describing wrestling matches, but this was a nailbiter full of near-falls and what-will-it-take kickouts that felt earned rather than slathered on. It helped that the crowd was rabid, with Utami having a slight edge, WHICH ONLY SERVED TO MAKE ME CHEER LOUDER FOR MOMO. I honestly had no idea who was going to win: normally you’d know the champ would retain in an away match like this, but having their second most important belt change hands would also have been a great way to make a splash in their New York debut. In the end, though, Momo retained with her Peach Sunrise finisher and I LOST IT.

Stars vs. Oedo Tai: The villainous but lovable Oedo Tai were over like crazy with this crowd, and people went bananas when they came out to do their pre-match war dance. They could have basically just done that and most people would have been, but they had a fun elimination match with the Stars faction. A lot of zany action in this and a genuine surprise elimination of Kagetsu midway through. The only missing piece of the puzzle was Sumire Natsu, who didn’t come over with the company, possibly because she’s a freelancer. She made appearances at Tokyo BDSM clubs instead during Mania weekend, which is the most Sumire Natsu thing ever.

Yurie Kozakai doing the ring introductions: Stardom was really smart about the idea that they were giving fans in New York “a real Stardom show,” and having the promotion’s normal ring announcer introduce the wrestlers was a perfect touch.

Hana Kimura: The newest Stardom signing looked like a superstar and basked in the crowd’s adulation during a three-way tag match that also involved Konami and Bea Priestley (making her US debut?) and Britt Baker and Brittany Blake, who should have called themselves the Britt-ish. No? I’m - I’m [putting my finger to my ear, like I’m listening] I’m being told “No, they should not have called themselves that.” Anyway, the match was fun but insubstantial, but Hana’s charisma is off the charts.

THE BAD

IPW:UK ran a show at the venue (the NYC Arena, which is an arena only in the sense that a mid-sized nightclub is an arena) right before Stardom, using House of Glory’s ring (the compromises and arrangements of Mania Weekend!), and the bottom rope broke. The effort to fix the broken rope was mostly unsuccessful, and also delayed the opening of doors at the venue by nearly an hour, meaning 600 hearty nerds were standing in line in 39 degree weather, with sleet pelting us. The paperback I had brought to pass the time in line was USELESS. On the lemons-lemonade side of things, though, this did mean we were all in line when Stardom’s bus rolled up, and all the wrestlers disembarked to head inside. Big cheers from the crowd, which obviously delighted the wrestlers. “It’s gonna be awesome!” Hana yelled at us. It was! Once we got out of the sleet

The broken rope delay also meant they had to cut the already abbreviated (five matches) show short, and it showed. The first three matches were all obviously truncated, with the High Speed title match between Hazuki and Dust suffering the most for it. Don’t get me wrong, it was good, and I was impressed by Dust, who’s new to me, but it felt like they were just starting to get going when it ended. IPW:UK, YOU ARE NOW MY ENEMY. OR MAYBE HOUSE OF GLORY, I DON’T KNOW. SOMEONE.

THE UGLY

Maybe half the appeal of this thing was the promised meet and greet afterward, but the meet and greet was more chaotic and less organized than Kelley Square at rush hour (sorry, this is a Worcester reference, Worcester people will know this). Nobody seemed to know where to stand, lots of fans didn’t realize they had to buy little tickets before meeting the wrestlers, and as someone whose job sometimes involves putting up signs in medical buildings, the lack of even rudimentary paper signage was APPALLING. This did not stop me from getting nerdy fan pics with Hana Kimura, Kagetsu, Momo Watanabe, Mayu Iwatani, and Konami. Hazuki left her table before I could get to her, and this failure will haunt the remainder of my days upon this earth. Possibly. The wrestlers all had pieces of paper with common American names written on them, so they’d know how to address the autographed pictures, which was sweet. Hana has great conversational English. There was no line when I went up to Konami, which is preposterous. Konami rules, fellow nerds. The whole thing was nice, and the language barrier prevented any of that thing where guys try to unburden their psyches onto female wrestlers in a bid to make some kind of emotional connection. JUST SMILE FOR THE CAMERA AND MOVE ALONG, PAL.

Also, apparently the Fite stream was choppy as hell and cut out completely right at the end of the Momo-Utami match, and only came back after it was over. Glad I went in person!

In part two, we’ll cover the gregarious Jesse Ventura, the surprising lack of merch slingers at WrestleCon, and the puzzling fame of that fan who had a cardboard sign saying “FACE FUCK ME FINN” at a Takeover a few years ago.

#Stardom #joshi puroresu #makin towns #Mania Weekend #show reviews

8 notes · View notes

revengeisalwaysanoption · 6 years ago

Text

[Skam Italia] Internal Monologues

So yeah, I was just saying 3 days ago that I didn’t feel like translating Nico’s POV from Italian to English, but today I changed my mind. To @skamsnake who wrote the most beautiful collection of pieces from Niccolò’s POV ever, to @crucios who makes me love Nico even more every time I read her posts and to @minttobe-treehill <3 Credit to @silenzio-assenzio for the headcanon, I blame this fic on her ;D

17th Semptember 2018 - 07:59 a.m. This year will be a blast. Yeah, right. This year will be slightly better than the last. Now, that’s more likely. This year we have only to get to the state exams without taking one too many sick days, to keep a high average so that mom can get off my back. We are not here to make friends. Mingling is okay. Preventing classmates from talking behind our back is cool too. Can we get more than that? Should we? We’ll see.

The closer they get to me, the more likely it will be that they start asking about what happened at Virgilio... But I don’t wanna talk about it. I didn’t even want to get out of bed this morning, to be honest, but if I knew that if I missed the first day then my parents would start talking about sending me to a private school again.

Okay, Niccolò, let's survive this day. Don’t start worrying about the next.

8th October 2018 - 1:04 p.m.

I’m so fucking bored. So, so bored. BOOOOOOORED. I can’t take this for 8 more months, I just can’t. The school itself is not that bad... I mean, I’m surrounded by tolerable people - apart from Covitti, who’s being a whiny bitch because he’s not the star student anymore? I don’t know what he’s got against me, really, and I don’t even care - and the teachers are decent enough, but... It’s like there’s no chance to get to know people better aside from those fleeting moments at recess. No opportunity to get rid of those fucking school-work interchange hours, either. No afterschool club in which, by sheer luck, I could run into that beautiful freckled boy. The one who is always surrounded by at least two other friends, who ain’t that bad themselves - especially the one with those baby blue eyes.

Dream on, Niccolò. Dream on. He must have better stuff do with his time...

... than spend it with the kids from drama club. Which might be awesome, but not the right fit for me. I already play the part of a sane individual everyday, so thanks but no thanks.

"Hey... Hello! Have you ever thought of hosting your own show on the radio? "

No, you never thought about it. Who the fuck is listening that radio, anyway? Nobody. But you’ve got plenty of time to kill and you’re looking for ways to make your days a bit more varied, right? It’s still better than cleaning toilets at McDonalds, isn’t it? Or than listening to Maddi drone on about her day at Uni. To have her remind you that had you followed her advice, had you taken your meds and went to see your therapist when you were supposed to... Then you wouldn’t be stuck at high school for another year.

It’s not she does it on purpose. She doesn’t say it out loud, but you can read between the lines.

When are we gonna dump her, by the way? The 4th of never seems like the perfect day to do just that. Who is gonna listen to us when we are feeling sorry for ourselves, who’s gonna tuck us in when too exhausted to get up? Who has always been there for us, Niccolò? You know who. Go and break her heart come on. I dare you to.

11th October 2018 - 5:43 p.m.

THERE HE IS HE. IS. HERE. OH FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. COME UP WITH A PLAN. DO IT FAST, NICO. YOU’RE GOOD AT THINKING ON YOUR FEET, AIN’T YOU? Okay. First of all: don’t freak out. Then: you shouldn’t look at him, he cannot not know how desperate you’ve been to see him again. Let’s pretend he doesn’t exist and that we can’t feel that he’s staring at us. He doesn’t know that I’m paranoid enough to always think that people have nothing better to do than stare at me.. That I never really got over that intrusive thought, but that I learnt not to let it get to me and tell myself either ‘well, if they’re watching let’s give them a good show’ or ‘let’s bore them to death so they will move on”. I think I’ll go with the second, today. Don’t meet his eyes. Don’t stumble on the chairs, on the desks, and please don’t choke on the cake. Keep a modicum of dignity, please.

Greet the girls. Analyse with great interest the pattern of your plastic plate. Turn to the blackboard. Good, Nico. You’re doing great. Keep this cool and mysterious attitude... Let him come to you.

OI. OI. OIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. NO. STOP THERE YOU. NOPE, NOT TALKING TO MYSELF NOW BUT TO THAT NICE GUY WHO STILL HASN’T GOT A NAME. You don’t you expect me to follow you around, do you? Or to sit in a dark room, listening to you fucking around and telling your imaginary audience how to grow weed in their closet. That's exactly why I'll do it. To turn this into something special. Something memorable.

I’m not even sure what this is. I out of my depth when I realize how easy it is to be around this guy, how I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and put a fake smile on my lips and fill the awkward silences with inane chatter. For once in my life I’m not striving to impress, so I send a little prayer to myself: please, Niccolò, do not fuck everything up as usual by reading too much into this. Let's try to get to know him better. Let’s see if he’s really into you - maybe he’s just curious about the new guy, maybe it’s the first time an older boy talks to him... who knows? - and if there’s something we can work on.

Work on... and then what? There’s still Maddalena. Haven’t forgot about her, have you? No, I haven’t. Now, let’s not get ahear of ourselves. Nobody is daydreaming about making out with this lovely boy - you still do not know what’s his name: how hard can it be to ask, Colino? - on the school terrace. In the bathrooms. On the table, in the radio booth. Nobody is doing that. Nope. No day dreaming going on. At all. Zero. Zilch. Me and him are more than happy to share nothing more than longing looks and a cigarette, today. To forget about the world, for a minute.

And then, of course, the spell is broken. I’m not one to dislike people on principle alone, usually... but she just rubs me the wrong way. Perhaps it’s how comfortable she is with my fellow deserter, how she addresses him as though they have been friends for years... Do you know each other? Are you together? It’s really none of my business. I can tolerate her just because she gives me the opportunity to introduce myself, even if he has yet to do it. But, hey, you could get a clue and fucking understand when people are subtly telling you to get lost, couldn’t you, Emma? You don’t. Well, what could I expect from someone named Covitti, really? 16th October 2018 - 11:55 a.m. Do you wanna smoke? Yeah, why not. Let’s choose a random rendez-vous point to meet our newest ‘friend’ - one of the few you kinda like, in this shitty school - like... the balcony that overlooks IVB. Maybe you’ll get to see Marti. Marti would be Martino Rametta, from what you read on attendance records at the radio club... But you’re free to call him however you like in your head, so yeah, he’s ‘Marti’. Be cool, Niccolò. Walk like you own the place, like you know that you’re the finest guy everyone has ever laid their eyes on. Believe it, and maybe Marti will believe it too when he sees you. He might not, but just in case he might... Well, well... Look who’s there. And guess who has just totally been uncool and hit their teeth with that fucking cigarette, too distracted by a stream of ‘Ain’t I the man of your dreams, Martino? Look at me, come on, look look look LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!’ playing in their heads, to actually realize what they were doing? It could have been worse, I could have put it up my nose. And I made him smile! I’D CALL THAT A WIN, WOULDN’T YOU? I love to make him smile. Maybe I can ask to come over, someday - tomorrow? the day after tomorrow? it needs to be sooner rather than later, doesn’t it? - and make him smile even more? Maddalena! Stop acting as if she’s not in the picture, Niccolò! Why don’t you worry about making her smile, instead? She’d lose that ‘woe is me’ attitude she got lately, which is understandable given what you put her through in the last 3 years... and okay, why don’t you ask her out on Friday? You can go to the movies, have a double date with Matteo and Elisa - you don’t want to go out with her alone, and that should tell you something... shouldn’t it? Yeah... you know what it tells you? It’s: blah blah blah, fuck it all, as the Bard would say - and try to be the boyfriend she deserve, can’t you? Okay, now let's go back to Martino. Who’s been distracted by Sana, and that’s too bad. He’s gonna regret it as soon as he’ll turn to the window again and he won’t find anyone there anymore, for sure.

19th October 2018 - 2:22 p.m. Martino? What are you doing here? I am 100% sure I have never seen you take this bus to go home. And you aren’t following me. I would have noticed if you did. What is he watching on that smartphone? Has he got any texts from Covitti? How can that be more interesting than me?

Minding my own business is overrated, and I’m sick and tired of it. Since you weren’t raised in a barn, Niccolò, you know what you’ve got to do now. Greet him, trying not to get distracted by his eyes or his lips - a difficult but not impossible task - and lean over just enough to get a glimpse of his screen. Or be cheeky enough to blatantly look at it. Sana. Who isn’t giving him the answer he hoped for, it seems. Maybe I can help? And you’re giving me the perfect excuse to ask you to come over, aren’t you ,Marti? Of course I’m gonna advantage of it. When will I get another chance to find out what music you listen to, what books you read, to worship the sight of you chilling on my couch and think about how much I would like kneel at your feet and... No. Let's keep those fantasies for us, Nico. Don’t scare him off by going too fast. Let's enjoy this Friday afternoon together. Focus on your heart, so full and yet so light. Beating so heart that you it feels like it could burst out your chest any minute, now. I have never felt this way before, for anyone. Maddalena? Who’s that? 19th October 2018 - 7:30 p.m. Maddalena. Maddalena, yeah. I do remember her. Not that clearly, though. I want to tell Martino about her, but I don’t know how. It’s not like I can say 'Oh, I nearly forgot but there’s this girl I’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s nothing serious, really. Tell me you want me and I’ll dump her ass straight away, I swear.’ out of blue, when I am not even sure he does want me. I mean, I can tell that we’re flirting but am leading him on? Does he actually want this flirting to lead somewhere or we are just teasing each other for the sake of it? If I get up and kiss him, after I got rid of the taste of this shitty pasta - which I’m still proud of having cooked, because Marti seemed really amazed by my creativity in the kitchen! - by drinking some beer, can I be 100% sure that Martino won’t get up and leave? No. So why talk to him about Maddalena? There is no point in doing that. I'll find the right moment to...

Oh. Great. Seems like Maddalena herself found the right moment to show up and be introduced to Marti. Of course. You do rememember you are the one who asked her out, don’t you? No, you don’t because you were too busy trying to get the brightest smiles out of Martino and to feel good about making him feel so relaxed and cheerful. And I know it's a dick move to make out with her like that, right in front of front of his eyes. Without even telling him that I had a girlfriend in the first place... but you know what?

It’s good that he sees that I’m a shitty person, let’s not have him think otherwise. And let’s see what he’s gonna do next. If he’s gonna walk away for good, or if he’s still gonna be willing to give us a chance. Let’s wait and see. **************************** A/N: I know it’s quite confusing but I noticed that I never address myself as “I” when I have monologues, I shift between “you” (singular) or “we”, and sometimes I throw in some thought using the “I” as well... So I wanted to Niccolò to do the same ;D They’re not linear and a they are a bit hard to follow, sometimes, I know... they are thoughts, internal monologues as the title says, not really a narration.

#skam italia #niccolò fares #nicotino #translation of an Italian fic #my writing

24 notes · View notes

sun-shine-slut · 6 years ago

Text

Your stupid

((Kryozgaming x reader, something simple to start off this account I guess XD this is also on my wattpad so if you see it there now you know why))

I smiled warmly as I walked down the street, It was a nice and calm Friday afternoon, Mini to my left as we walked. I was visiting him and the guys for the week, laughing I smiled as we ate the icecream Craig was generous enough to buy us both icecream. Hearing foot steps behind us I ignored them, hearing their laughter I got curious and started listening to what they said as Craig continued to talk about that happened on his latest meme stream. [that I watched fully bc they are funny as balls] "It's bad enough that he's fat and even eating icecream come on?" I internally froze as I realized that they was shit talking Criag who was next to me.

"Nah the cow next to him is worse, bet she doesn't even know what diet means." They cackled, stopping Craig I turned to the both of them not caring for the questioning look Craig gave me. "Would you two boys like to repeat that to our faces." I glared hissing out the word boys, the taller one had little to nothing to him, the other one a bit more stalky but nothing I couldn't handle. "Yeah, you two fat cows should learn what a diet is." The taller one sneered at us crossing his arms.

"Craig, hold my icecream." I hissed watching Craig open his mouth before shutting taking it from me too shocked to really stop whatever I was about to do. "Fat? Oh no dear it's power." (If you get that reference, bless-) I glared as they both laughed at me untill I swung at them, that knocked the smile off there face as they both squared up to me. "Craig, don't get involved." I chuckled as I dodged a punch from the shorter of the two, they both seemed glad for a fight, I can't wait to make them regret who they chose.

Holding my nose closed I followed Criag as he fastly rushed me to John's house since it was closer than his. I of course won the fight, but man did that smaller boy have a had a hard hit, they both were definitely in worse shape than I was but in the end we both fought the only difference was that I won. "You are so amazingly stupid! God you care too much about what people say, what am I going to do with you? God help me, One of these days your gonna get us in big trouble." Craig ranted like a worried mother hen as he used the spare key for John's house as he ran upstairs to go find John, knowing the other guys where out doing something today, probably vlogging.

Walking into the kitchen I met eyes with the man in question, John looked at me in disbelief. "In a few seconds Craig is going to come in here and your going to tell him that your going to help me, I do not want to listen to Craig yell at me, or I just might jump off the roof." I hoarsely explained as I started to feel pain slowly seeping into my body, John slowly nodded confused as balls. "CRAIG! John's in the kitchen!" I yelled before holding my jaw in pain, the tall kid looked like a strong breeze could blow him away but man did that first hit from him hurt like fucking balls.

Listening to Craig and John talk in fast but quiet voices, jumping up ontop of the kitchen's island I pulled out a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. Sitting one to my lips I light it hearing the voices stop, "I thought you said you stopped." John asked as I took a deep inhale, "for the most part, only when I'm stressed and I did just fight two teenagers." I laughed before groaning in pain feeling my jaw throbbing in pain. "Can someone grab me an ice pack? Or like maybe help me?" I whined as the rush of the fight wore off, now I was in pain and pissy. Moving my hand away from my nose I didn't care if blood got on this shirt I'll just buy and new one.

John locked eyes with Craig and he sighed ans nodded rubbing his forehead, "fine John, I trust you, (Y/n) I'll be back with a new shirt since that one is clearly ruined." Craig sighed as he walked over to me, "thank you, fucking dumbass." Craig finally broke down and gave me a small smile as he turned to leave with one last strong look to John. I watch John look for a ice pack. Wiping the blood from my nose away (more like smearing it across my check and getting it all over my hands) I looked at John turn around and chuckle lowly, "it looks like you ate a bitch out and she got too into it and she hit your face." John joked as he gave me the ice pack rapped in a washcloth walking out of the room to probably go grab the first aid kit out of the bathroom.

Gently resting the covered ice pack against my jaw I finish my cigarette, watching John come back in as he started to set up the first aid. "Your actually pretty calm, I thought this would brake your chill." I joked watching John give me an unamused smile. "No, but seeing your shit recked is not a great sight either." John snarky replied hiding his concern as he walked over to the skin and wetting a washcloth. "They were shit talking me and Craig's weight, you know how hard he's been working out, and staying on track! And I've even started working out at least twice a week, I've been trying, you gotta give me some kind of credit." I explained defining myself the best I could with out hurting my already bruising face.

John, sighed knowing how much my friends ment to me, "Fine, now this is gonna hurt, so relax and trust me." John huffed as he gently started to wipe away the blood on my cheek, and under my nose. I watched John's focused face, I relaxed my body, I didn't even realize I was tensed. "Take a picture It'd last longer." John smiled, and he moved up to above my eyebrow were a nasty cut was, the taller boy had a nails that cut.

I chuckled at John's remark before clinching my fists in pain. "Sorry." John whispered, feeling his warm breath tickle my face smelling his breath, mint of course that was the only flavor he vaped. I stayed still and quite as John gently placed an bandaid on my cut. Looking my face over one last time to see if he missed any cuts, but only seeing bruises which he couldn't do anything about the bruises, "(Y/n) I-" I cut John off when I grabbed his face pulling him into me kissing him. As I was about to pull away I felt John's hands grab the back of my head pushing back into the kiss, with a quiet humm of happiness.

Finally I slowly pulled away, "sorry, for no warning, but I love you so much, more than I can really say." I blushed at John's small smirk. "Actually I was about to do the same but first." John paused, flicking my forehead "that's for being so retarded," I gave John a pout rubbing my forehead. Grabbing my face gently cupping my cheeks making sure to not push on them, he pulled me into another sweet kiss. Moving my head to the side I deepened the kiss, "Should I come back later?" I heard Craig remarked behind us at the opening of the kitchen.

Pulling away I started laughing at Craig's teasing look he sent us, "About time you two, I thought you guy's would never get together." Craig joked as he walked over to us handing me my Shirt, "I'll be on my way and leave you two alone." Craig laughed winking as he left. "(Y/n)?" John asked, I turned to him with a smile as I ran my fingers through his long bleached hair, probably getting some blood in it from my hands. "Yes?" I simply replied feeling like I was on cloud nine. "I love you too, more than I love anything else." John whispered against my lips before kissing me again, keeping his touchs light and soft not wanting to hurt me.

Who knew that fighting two teenagers would get you together with your crush?

((Hope you guys enjoyed! You can send in asks about me or requests! From anyone from banana bus squad or the misfits!))

#your tags #the misfits #text #writing #kryozgaming #bbs crew #bbs squad #banana bus squad #gbg kryoz #john kryoz #bbs kryoz #mini ladd #ice cream #one shot #ahh?

5 notes · View notes

autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

Text

Suna x reader: Final part (fluff)

Here’s the final part to my Suna x reader series! I wasn’t fully satisfied with this version, so I decided to make a *ahem* rougher version as well. If you’re interesting, click here.

Art creds: @youneedasahi on twitter! 🤪

The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first.

You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him.

You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself.

Suna

Wha u doying rit now?

You

What?

Suna

Sorr little drynk

You

You’re drunk?

Suna

im at psrty

You

Are we still seeing a movie tonight?

You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course.

The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back.

“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu.

Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?”

You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged.

You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue.

The porch was thankfully empty, and you took a deep breath of the night breeze, trying to clear your head. Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt.

“So...you and Suna huh?” You looked up at Atsumu, who had a strange smile on his face.

“What are you--?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows.

“We aren’t together.”

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?”

“I--”

“What the fuck.”

All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood on the threshold of the porch, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?

“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?”

Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”

“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.”

Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”

“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading into the house.

When the door clicked shut, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl.

You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?”

“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!”

“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!”

“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”

You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--”

Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled.

You were breathing hard, wanting to punch Suna, but… he didn’t seem like he was lying. The person you had thought was Suna did have their back to you, and you had been drunk. Had you made a mistake? Even if you had though, it didn’t excuse any of his other behavior.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” You finally snapped, and Suna gave a cold smirk.

“Trying to change the subject?”

“No, you bastard! I’m trying to figure out why you seem to be so upset when all you do is treat me like your side bitch!”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

You could feel your throat getting tight, but you did not want to cry.

“You never respond to my texts, you’re always cancelling plans with me to do other things, you act like you don’t know me in public, and you only seem interesting in having sex with me.” By the end, your voice cracked with a sob, and you turned your face away.

Suna’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at your hurt expression. “I didn’t…” His breath shuddered out, and he ran his hand roughly through his hair. “That isn’t what I think of you at all.”

“Then…” you still wouldn’t look at him, and he wanted to punch himself.

“Look, I’m terrible at being in relationships. I always feel like they lose interest, so I break it off early on. I just...I don’t want that to happen with you.”

“How does you being a piece of shit help?”

“Y/n,” Suna gripped your face in his hands, his eyes desperate. “I want to be with you all the time. I think about you constantly, what you’re doing, how soon I can see you again. It drives me crazy how much I--” He stopped, clenching his jaw. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, or pressure you into anything. I thought that by keeping it relaxed, you would…” He trailed off again, and all you could feel was your heart racing.

“Then why do you always act so...uninterested?” You finally whispered, voice trembling.

“Do you mean around my friends?”

After a moment, you nodded. It was only really around them that he gave you the cold shoulder.

“They’re all assholes, and I don’t want you to get involved with them. The second they think I love you, they’ll try and see why. To hurt me through you.”

Your mouth fell open and I suddenly couldn’t think past one word. “L-love-?”

Suna’s eyes went wide, and he tried to step back. “I…fuck...”

You gripped his shirt, forcing him to stay where he was. “Do you?”

He paused, his face so red you thought he might pass out. “Yes.” He cleared his throat and met your eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

He shifted nervously, waiting for your reaction, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. You stood on your tip toes and kissed him, arms going around his neck. He sighed into your mouth, grabbing your waist and tongue sliding along the seam of your lips, prompting you to open your mouth. After a long moment, you pulled away.

“I love you,” You whispered to him, and Suna pressed himself against you, groaning into your mouth.

“Really?”

“Mhm.” You tugged away from him, meeting his eyes. “But will you try to respond to my texts? Not cancel plans? I need to know that you won’t just...ditch at a moment’s notice.”

He nodded, expression seriously. “I’ll do anything to keep you here with me.”

He kissed you on the nose, and you smiled.

“Ok.”

#suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #haikyuu suna #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #fluff

24 notes · View notes

petersshirts · 6 years ago

Text

Saviour || tom holland

Summary: idiots can save lives too or you can’t stand Tom, but when you need him, he’s there for you

Warnings: drinking, swearing

Words: 2180

A/N: this is for @hollandroos 12 k writing challenge, I had the prompt „They won’t hurt you anymore“ and I’m going to pair this with fuckboy! Tom, hope you enjoy!

There was one thing you were completely sure about in life, and that was that you hated Tom Holland.

Since he walked into the dorm that you shared with your friend Zendaya, you knew that you were the complete opposite. Tom was a good friend of Z since they started college but when it came to you, all you did was argue. You hated Toms Point Of View in Life. He was so sure of himself and he had a different girl every night. Every girl on this college had an affair with him, and you were the one that never cared. But when he met you one afternoon while you were sitting on your bed in yoga pants and a big bowl of Ben & Jerrys, he smirked like he had just found his new conquest.

And you were right: Whenever you passed each other on the school grounds, he stopped to talk to you about stupid things, but you just shook your head and ignored him. You knew that he wasn’t interested in you, just in getting into your pants and you were not having it. Back in your home, you never had a boyfriend and sometimes you wished that there was someone to hold you at night, but the boys at college were the worst. Either they were nerds that were just interested in their games or they were fuck boys just like Tom.

Tom didn’t live in a frat house but together with his best mate Harrison. Harrison was the complete opposite of Tom - he was nice, charming and always nice to you. He always accompanied Tom to the frat parties but you knew that he was there to enjoy himself and not sleep with every girl in a ten-metre radius.

Harrison and you were good friends but you always tried to avoid his dorm to not meet his horrible roommate. H knew what you were thinking of Tom, so he always went to a coffee shop or to your dorm with you. But even though you avoided the curly haired boy all the time, he seemed to appear everywhere. He always passed you in the halls and whenever you were waiting in the queue in your local coffee shop, he was standing right behind you. It felt like a curse.

It was a Friday Night and you were already in your pyjamas, ready for a Netflix marathon all on your own. Your friend Zendaya was not at home and you honestly had no idea where she was. But you knew that Z was a strong woman and she could do everything she wanted.

Just when you pressed play on your latest series, the door opened and your friend stood in front of you. Her hair was messy and it looked like she had been running around. A big smile was on her face. You smiled back, murmured a small „Hi“ and focused back onto your laptop screen.

„Are you up for a party tonight?“

You looked up, thinking that Z was talking on the phone, but she was looking right at you. You raised your eyebrows, confused why she would ask you. You were not the biggest party goer and you were definitely not in the mood to dance all night.

„I’m sorry Z, but I don’t wanna go. It’s been a hard week and I just wanna chill.“

Your gorgeous friend sat down next to you on the bed and looked at you with big eyes.

„Oh come on, Y/N, you have your college days only once, so, please?? I need some company for this evening, it’s going to be a huge party and you are the one I want to go with.“

You rolled your eyes. As soon as Z would walk into the party, there would be tons of guys swarming her and you would be forgotten.

No thank you.

You shook your head. „Z, I’m not up for that and you gotta respect that, please??“

Zendaya pouted and crossed her arms, like a small child who didn’t get her candy.

„But Harrison is gonna be there! You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, right? Come on, you two could catch up and it’s gonna be so much fun, please please please!!!“

You sighed. You knew that your friend would not give up unless you would come with her, so you agreed.

„Fine, but let me get properly dressed. I look like a tired bear.“

So only half an hour later the two of you were styled from head to toe and you felt really confident when you looked into the mirror. You looked like a completely different person and you had to admit, you really liked what you saw.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Since the frat house where the party was held was not so far away from your dorm, the two of you walked. When you turned into the street of the frat house, there was loud music playing and when the house came in sight, there were a lot of people dancing inside and outside. The party was in full swing.

Here we go.

Z entered the huge house first and led you right into the kitchen. There was liquor everywhere and it stank horribly. Your friend poured two drinks for you and you knew that it was going to be something very strong, just because of the look in her eyes.

She gave me the red cup with a mischievous smile.

„Here, drink.“

Since you hadn’t had a beer in ages, you were tipsy just after one drink. But Z just gave you another and another and only after an hour you were completely drunk.

You didn’t care anymore that you wanted to be back home because you were having the time of your life.

Z was still by your side and Harrison had also been there, but he disappeared when your friend and you decided to hit the dance floor. Luckily, you hadn’t seen Tom yet because you knew that this would have destroyed the whole evening. He was just an asshole.

The music was too loud to talk so Z and you just danced, not giving a damn. But just after a few minutes, there was a guy walking towards your friend with a smile on his face and without saying anything to you, she left.

If you hadn’t been so drunk, you would have left the dance floor immediately. But here you were, room spinning, so you just continued dancing.

Suddenly, there were two arms wrapped around you and when you turned around, there was a cute tall guy standing behind you, smiling.

Inside, you felt disgusted but you couldn’t control anything anymore so you just smiled back and started to dance too. You were dancing for a few minutes until the guy started grinding into you.

Your eyes opened wide because that was definitely not what you were intending. You had zero experience with guys but when it came to going the next step, you would never do it as a one night stand in a frat house. You tried to get away from him, but the boy was as drunk as you so he just pulled you closer, pressing wet kisses on your neck.

„We should put this somewhere else,“ he whispered and grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the crowd and walked towards a room. You tried to get his hand off you, but his grip was just to firm.

„Let go of me, I don’t want this!“ You literally yelled, trying to overcome the loud bass of the music. But the boy just opened the door, pulled you in and locked it behind you.

„Come on, kitty girl, you will love this.“

His pupils were dilated that showed you that he was so drunk. Tears were streaming down your face when he pushed you not eh mattress and started to open his jeans. You closed your eyes, praying that someone would come to your rescue. But nobody could hear your screams and pleas because of the loud music. You were much weaker than the guy so you had no chance to get him off you.

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate. The guy pushed your shirt up, but you just didn’t react, feeling ashamed of this situation.

Just when the horrible man made a move to open your pants, somebody knocked on the door.

„Y/N?? IS THAT YOU IN THERE?“ you heard a very familiar voice outside of the room. Your eyes opened wide and you got all your energy together and screamed at the top of your lungs:

„I’m in here!! Help me, pl…“ The guy pressed his hand on your mouth to get you to shut up but you were having none of it. You bit into his hand and he growled but let you go.

„Y/N I’m coming..“ and suddenly the door was broken off its hinges and your saviour stood in the door.

Tom.

It was the first time that you were glad to see him. He was breathing heavily and his hair was falling on his forehead. You couldn’t process what was happening when Tom ran towards the guy and punched him right into the jaw. The boy stumbled and finally let go of you so you could stand up and flee behind Tom.

You could see the flames in his eyes and you knew that he was more than angry. Even though you weren’t really friends, Tom wanted to protect you.

He punched the boy again until he fell on the ground and Tom continued to hit him. The guy's face was red, full of blood and you knew that if you didn’t stop Tom, this would end up in a complete nightmare.

„Tom, stop!“ You pulled on his arm but he was way too strong and knocked you back when he hit your chin with his elbow. You stumbled back which caused Tom to look around and when he saw your shocked face, he immediately let go of the guy and rushed towards you. Your instinct was to back off, but you knew that Tom would never hurt you, he was just so angry that he blocked out his surroundings and didn’t see you coming.

So you stayed right where you stood when Tom came towards you. He took your head in his hands and looked int your eyes. „Y/N, are you okay? Did he do something to you? I swear I“m…“ But you interrupted him when you put your finger on his lips.

„Sh, Tom, I’m fine, thanks to you. Let’s get out of here, can you take me home?“

Tom just nodded, took your hand in his and guided you through the crowds. When you were out of the house, you send Z a quick message, telling her that you were going home and that she should dance all night long.

Tom and you walked side by side, but none of you spoke a word. You wanted to thank him a thousand times more but you both weren’t really close so you had no idea where to start.

Only a few minutes later, you found yourself in front of your dorm. You stared at the ground, not knowing what to say.

„They won’t hurt you anymore.“ You looked up when Tom spoke those words. He looked into your face and you could see that he was still furious. You walked towards the British boy, smiling. You put your arms around him. Tom was shocked in the first moment because you would never hug him.

But this was just a different situation. If Tom hadn’t been there, you would have been raped.

Tom hugged you back and pressed you even closer to him. „Don’t worry, I’m gonna protect you.“

You smiled because these were words you always wanted to hear out of his mouth but he would have never said something like that with his attitude. But it felt like he was back on the ground, realising what was wrong with this world.

„Tom, thank you so much again. If you wouldn’t have been there, I don’t know what would have happened…“ You stood back and just thinking about it, you started to silently cry. Tom wiped your tears away, now it was his turn to smile.

„You know, I was thinking about that you owe me something now…“

You rolled your eyes. There he was again. But he was right, you were in his debt.“

„What do you want, Holland?“ You raised an eyebrow, smiling because of his cheeky smirk.

„What about a date, darling?“

If you would like to check out my masterlist, it’s right here!

92 notes · View notes

welcometophu · 6 years ago

Text

Not Your Love Song: Chapter 33

Marked Book 2: Not Your Love Song

Chapter 33

[ Previous | First | Next ]

When Rory walks out of his last class on Friday, Kit’s waiting in the hall, leaning against the opposite wall. Kit lowers his phone, lifts his free hand when Rory spots him. As Rory shifts directions, he lowers his hands, swings them slightly away from his body in a silent question that is answered when Kit hugs him hard, wrapping his arms around him.

They stand there in the middle of the hallway, Kit’s head against Rory’s shoulder, almost under his chin. Kit exhales, tension seeping out of his body, and Rory inhales as their magic swirls around them. The crowds moving out of the classroom split around them, like they’ve become an island of two.

“Can I—” Kit asks as he looks up, and Rory meets him halfway for a slow, gentle kiss.

Rory still doesn’t get the fascination most people have with kissing—it’s like hugging with lips, as far as he’s concerned—and with Kit it isn’t terrible, maybe even a nice and intimate thing when done right. Which may be because Kit respects boundaries and doesn’t try to turn it into something more complicated.

As Rory withdraws, he brings one hand up to briefly touch Kit’s face. “You can add that to the standard hello,” he says. “I’m okay with it.”

Kit grins, touches his fingers to his own lips, then to Rory’s. “Okay then. Hello.” He steps back, catches Rory’s hand and twines their fingers together as they head for the stairs down and out of the building.

“Did I forget a date tonight? I thought you had plans with your sister.” Rory didn’t think he had any plans tonight, which would mean either gaming or writing songs or getting ahead on homework. Or movies. Streaming video is a wonderful thing some nights.

“I did,” Kit admits, a hint of tension seeping back into his stride. “I do, actually, but I’m free after that. And I was hoping that you could come with me.”

“With your sister,” Rory echoes warily. “Is this a meet the family thing? Because she already knows who I am.”

“I’m pretty sure she wants to do that more officially, too,” Kit says, “but not this time. This is a meeting with Pawel kind of thing. About rituals. And since you have such an impact on my art, and since we were talking about Carolyn’s Talent and mine and how everything interacts, and since you’re part of my final project, I kind of figured you should be there.”

Rory raises his eyebrows. “I’m your final project?” He’s only teasing, but it stops Kit mid-word.

“Not you, the ritual.” Kit swings closer to him, and as they get outside, he nudges them both off the path. He wraps his arms around Rory, walking them both to a place where they can stand entwined out of the way of the flow of traffic. “You help settle me,” Kit mumbles against Rory’s chest. Where their hands are linked, Kit squeezes, his other hand pressed against Rory’s shirt. “And if I need to do art, I might need you to help me do it well. She’s upset and anxious, which means I’m upset and anxious, and yes, it’s a twin thing. I can’t just avoid this even though I honestly don’t want to be involved.”

Kit’s been prickly for at least a week, and Rory hasn’t wanted to poke at it. But this seems to be the opening he needs. He slides his hands under Kit’s jacket, feels the warmth of his skin through his shirt and focuses on that, on how close they can be. It creates a cocoon for them against the chill of the February air. “Do you want to talk about it now?” Rory asks quietly.

Silence through several heartbeats before Kit nods against his chest, but doesn’t elaborate.

It’s going to have to be questions then.

Rory slips one hand free, raises it to stroke through Kit’s hair. “You’re pissed off at Carolyn. You’ve been pissed off at her for a long time, and now you say you have to do this.”

“She’s my twin.”

That part Rory gets. If Thorne asked him to do something—and it was reasonable—Rory would do it, even if it didn’t thrill him. Family’s family. That’s just the way it is, and he figures twins have to be even more so.

“Why does it upset you?” Since Kit said he wanted to talk, Rory figures it’s up to him to determine how, since Kit’s not doing it. And if Kit backs down, Rory will let it go.

But this time, he gets the feeling this is what Kit wants.

“It’s about high school,” Kit says quietly. He nudges, and they keep moving into the space near the stairs, where a long bench sits amongst the landscaping. The flowers are dead, the bench iced at one end, but there’s still enough dry space for both of them to sit.

Rory keeps an arm around Kit’s shoulders, and they lean together, sharing warmth.

“Back in high school, we did an epically bad ritual,” Kit says. “Me, Carolyn, and our best friends Del, Sam, and Shawn. It was supposed to be the prank to end all pranks, and instead it ended up with Carolyn in the hospital for a few days, Del missing for a bit, and Sam stuck in an institution since then. His mind’s been gone; he’s lucid sometimes, but not enough.”

“Like Lora?”

Kit shakes his head. “Not exactly like Lora. Shawn’s awake. He’s… he can function, and talk. They keep him fed and he exercises, but it’s like he’s not all there. Or not seeing them. Like his mind is somewhere else. And right now, that’s what Carolyn thinks has happened. His mind is literally in the dreamscape that Del goes to, so she wants to get him out. And she has a plan to do this.”

“And you—” Rory still isn’t sure where the disconnect is in the logic.

Kit licks his lips. “And I’m just there to help. When we were in high school it was Carolyn and Shawn, and Sam and Del. And me. I was the fifth person. It was like what if everyone but one person in The Craft had hooked up, then you had the extra person who just tagged along all the time. The coven plus one. If you add on that I was still struggling with the fact that most of the kids in high school remembered my deadname, and teachers still sometimes struggled with pronouns even though it had been years by then… high school wasn’t a great place for me. But Sam’s insisting that I be along for this. That I’m important to this ritual. So Carolyn’s determined to include me.”

“Sam—the same one who isn’t coherent—”

“He’s talked to Carolyn recently,” Kit says. He shrugs, shoulders curving. “He has moments of coherence, I guess, and he’s been insistent about talking to Carolyn. He said we all have to be there, which means me and Shawn. I don’t want to walk those paths again, and I know Carolyn doesn’t want to do it with Shawn. Everything was such a mess after high school. I don’t want to go back.”

Rory was never really part of the in crowd in his own high school, but he wasn’t completely on the outskirts, either. He had his friends, and everyone knew he was in a band since they’d started playing so young. Even after the rest of his bandmates graduated, he still had friends. They didn’t get into trouble, and they didn’t use much magic at school.

It’s hard to imagine getting in this deep so young.

“You don’t have to go back,” he says firmly. He turns to face Kit, grips both his hands with his own. “You’re going forward here. You’ve Emerged. You’ve got me. You’ve got everywhere you’re going now. You’re learning ritual. You’ve got all these new things and you’ve still got Carolyn, too. You can support her and do what you have to do without going completely backwards.”

Kit ducks his head, points of color staining his cheeks. “And that’s why I want you there with me, to remind me that I don’t have to fall into that abyss. That I can be involved without being dragged under. I felt like I was drowning in high school, and I’ve been working really hard on figuring out who I am since I got here.”

“You can’t define yourself by me,” Rory says quietly.

“I don’t, that’s the point.” Kit huffs. “I’m that guy who’s good at Orgo. I’m pre-med, and I’m going to be a doctor. I’m apparently a magical artist, and I’m going to be a strong part of Coven during my senior year. I am not a groupie, even if I’m dating a guy in a band.”

“They’ll call you a groupie anyway, if they see us together. But we’re not that famous, so it’s okay.” Rory’s often confused about the concept of fame anyway. He’s done interviews. He knows they have a lot of teens and tweens who are fascinated by them, but they aren’t worth the big bucks so paparazzi don’t follow them around campus. They’ve found some kind of weird middle ground, which is fine with him.

“But do you see my point?” Kit asks, squeezing Rory’s hands. “You don’t define my path, but you’re part of it. You’re right there with me, and I might not have discovered some of it without you. You’re a grounding influence, and when I feel like I’m going to get sucked back into the mess that was high school, you pull me back.”

Kit talks like high school was such a long time ago.

“You realize that I just graduated high school last May,” Rory points out. He knows Kit isn’t as far from it as Darrik was, but this still makes him feel weirdly young.

“It’s not an age thing.” Kit leans forward, and Rory meets him halfway, pressing their lips together. When the kiss breaks, Rory tugs, and Kit ends up across his lap as they snuggle together, kissing quietly for long moments.

Rory doesn’t feel a desperate need to include the kissing, but it’s a nice part of the snuggling. And if it makes Kit feel content, all the better. Rory can handle that.

He’d really like to just go back to Hayworth or Douglass and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening cuddling, but he’s pretty sure that’s not an option.

“So. Is this an official meeting for an official ritual that’s coming up?” he asks. He keeps his arms around Kit, not ready to get up and start walking through the cold again just yet. He’ll continue to enjoy the cuddle as long Kit lets him.

“This is a proposal for the ritual that’s going to be Carolyn’s final project, and probably part of my own, for our independent study.” Kit’s breathing slows as Rory rubs his back. “I want to look into the use of art in ritual, and the different cases for it, and how it works when using different energies, and different goals. Particularly with how similar some aspects of both Sam’s and Lora’s cases are.”

“Mm.” Rory nuzzles the top of Kit’s head. “So her final is the actual project, yours is a write up of a compare and contrast case study.”

“Something like that. I’m not sure Pawel’s happy with us.” Kit hesitates, then amends his own words. “No, that’s not right. I think he’s weirdly proud of us. Like he gets this look on his face like we’re children who’ve gone from crawling to running and he’s amazed. Then it’s replaced by a look of horror because he’s pretty sure we’re about to run right off a cliff. And I’m not sure he’s wrong. The other reason I’m angry at Carolyn? I don’t think she’s thinking this through. And that just feels so strange. She’s the cautious one.”

“More cautious than you?”

Kit laughs. “Believe it or not, yes. She’s the one who thinks through all the consequences before doing something. If I’m worried about the outcome, I just don’t do it.”

“Maybe she’s thought through all the consequences then, and hasn’t told you about it.”

Kit sounds dubious. “Maybe.”

Rory’s not sure how to reassure him. He’s not sure if there’s anything that will help at this point, other than doing the one thing Kit asked him to do. “So. Meeting with Pawel. He’s not going to see me being there as a real recommendation for acting cautiously. I am the one who created a ritual to trap Mattie when she was still a soul-sucking shadowwalker,” he points out. “Some of the things that happened with Alaric last semester—”

“Pawel’s had a lot on his plate.” Kit’s tone is sober. “I do get that. But you’re not there for the ritual, or for Carolyn or Pawel. You’re there for me, if you’re okay with that.”

“I’m okay with that.” Rory pulls him into a tighter hug, pressing his face into Kit’s hair, kissing his head lightly. “Let’s go get it over with—or are we already late?—then we can go get your art or whatever done, and you can reward my patience with epic snuggles and streaming my favorite shows.”

Kit stays where he is for a long moment before he untangles himself and stands up. He offers a hand to pull Rory to his feet. “We can do that,” he agrees. “We can definitely do that.”

[ Previous | First | Next ]

#welcome to phu #welcometophu #not your love song #phu marked #marked

6 notes · View notes