#those losers never stood a chance tbh

[jonathanbyersphd]

Oh, it is OVER for the Wheeler Siblings

[yup-thats-me]

— more than best friends • bill denbrough

pairing: Bill Denbrough x reader

movie/series: IT (2017)

summary: your suppressed feeling for Bill finally gets surfaced

warning: cheesy teen romance, this is bad tbh, feelings, language (I mean it's IT), a bit angst, negative self image. Also not everything goes as per the movie.

note: don't hate. I take criticism not hatred. If you don't like it, KEEP. IT. TO. YOURSELF.

DON'T COPY/STEAL. NOT COOL

"You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?" Beverly asked Ben with a sly smile.

You watched Bill staring at her. Looking as if she's the only girl he's ever seen. As if, she meant the world.

Whereas he was yours.

"Hey, y/n," she greeted. "Hi, Bev."

Richie seemed confused as to why you were talking to her. "You know her?" He questioned stupidly.

"We have history together you dimwit," you replied annoyed.

You noticed Beverly has cut her hair, now she looked more beautiful than you, you thought. You stood no chance with Bill your mind told you, breaking your heart to millions of pieces.

However, you were not the only one who noticed Bev's hair.

"Your h-h-hair. It looks b-beautiful", Bill noticed too and seemed quite fascinated with it judging by the look in his eyes.

Beverly muttered a small thanks and they both stood there awkwardly. No one making a sound. It was making you want to gag with the looks they sent eachother.

"We're going to the qu-quarry tomorrow. You can come too." Bill offered with the same smitten smile.

You huffed. It was a ritual only for the losers to jump from the cliff at the Quarry. You did that every year and just the five of you.

It's not that you didn't liked Bev. But having a crush on Bill with Bill having something with Beverly made you jealous. You wanted to be the one Bill stared at with those loving eyes. But seeing them two standing next to each other, it was pretty clear who he wanted. And it was most certainly not you.

"You dipshits stay here or do whatever the fuck you want, I'll go home. It's getting late anyway. Fuck you all!"

The losers stared at you as you rode away. They knew something was up you've never acted this way before. Bill knew something was wrong. You sounded annoyed to him. He needed to find you and had to talk to you. You meant more to him than anything else. If you were sad, he wanted to make you smile. If you were angry, he needed to know why.

"Come if you can, B-ev. I have to g-go," he told Beverly and the gang collectively, he too picked up his bike and rode after you.

"When will they get together already. It's getting kinda annoying honestly," Richie sighed the others humming in agreement.

"Wait, what?" Beverly asked confused.

"Oh Bill's got a crush on y/n. Everyone except y/n knows it." Stan answered on behalf of everyone. Beverly nodded walking away.

Bill found you sitting by the lake. The place you always go to when you need to be alone. He slowly parked his bike and progressed towards you.

"Why you here?" You asked bitterly knowing it was Bill. He always found no matter wherever you were.

"What? A-m I not a-a-allowed to check on m-my best f-friend?" He said, sitting down beside you, looking over the lake.

Best friend. How you hated the word. "Shouldn't you be hanging out with Bev in your room or something? I don't know man. I don't seem to be important enough anyway." You muttered with your head low.

He sighed. Both of you knew he didn't allow anyone in his room other than you. "Okay I-I know some-thing, something's wrong. What is it, y-y/n?"

You finally looked up at him from your lap. Eyes red with tears

"I can't pretend anymore Bill! I-I love you, and and I hate myself for it. I know you like or much rather love Beverly. She's so beautiful and perfect. It's impossible to not love her," you paused taking a breath. "I'm tired of being best friends! I want to be more than that to you, Bill but it's pretty sure it's not going to happen!"

Bill sat without a word processing what he heard. Everything was so silent the only sounds are of your quite sobs.

"What d-do you think I l-like Beverly?" He questioned back.

"What?"

"I asked, Why do y-y-you think I like h-her?"

You breathed in softly. "Well, there's the way you look at her in school and now too. As if she means everything to you.".

"It's b-been you, Y/n. It's always been you s-s-since the fourth gr-grade. It's been four y-years and still you've been th-the one," Bill was now turned to you, holding your face in his hands. "I feared you'll n-never like me t-t-that way s-so I thought it was best fo-for me to just m-move on. But, you've always b-b-been the one to have m-my heart," his thumbs wiped the still falling tears from your eyes.

He touched your forehead with yours, staying that way for several minutes on the quietness. "Can i-i kiss y-you?" He whispered softly.

"Yes, please."

His hands held your face so tenderly as if you'd break any moment. The kiss was slow, your lips moving in sync with his. You pulled away, bright red blush covering your cheeks.

He seemed rather surprised when you pulled away. "Woah th-that was b-better than the pl-play," he chuckled, making you laugh.

"W-Will you be my g-girlfriend?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

You nodded your head quickly. "Yes!"

He pulled you in by the waist to kiss you again.

"You guys do know we can see you two right?" Richie shouted from across the road.

"Shut up, Richie!" You and Bill both shouted back in unison, smiling at the gang.

[pa1nkill3r]

It’s My Party [F.W]

[Pairing:] Fred Weasley x GN!Non Gryffindor!Reader, (slight) Fred Weasley x Angelina Johnson

[Summary:] Y/H has won the 1993 interhouse quidditch cup as Y/N, the house’s keeper, gleefully shoved it in their boyfriend, Fred Weasley’s face. Prideful as ever, Fred decided that he can’t be the only sore loser between the two of them.

[Warnings:] angst, Fred being immature, off canon, mentions of smut, not a happy ending, swearing, (please lmk if there’s more :)

[Word Count:] ≈1.4k

[Song:] It’s My Party- by Lesley Gore

[A/N:] please no Angelina slander. Y/H = your house. The first fic I will be posting will be ANGST?? idk what to think about this tbh but i just really want to post a fic out of the many in my drafts so let’s hope this goes alright :D

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Gryffindor’s are chivalrous. Evident in the way Fred Weasley has mastered the art of seduction as he made gallant efforts of persuading the inhospitable Y/N to be his. 

Gryffindor’s are courageous, as he and his brother gave their all into their final game that would lead Gryffindor to victory. Hitting bludger after bludger and making sure they do not give Alicia Spinnet another nose bleed. 

And Gryffindor’s are determined, so much so as their loss has made them into sore, sore losers. 

The Gryffindor’s are pissed and Oliver Wood took to punching the soil. Harry Potter let go of his firebolt and covered his face in frustration. Angelina Johnson took the same approach, aggressively wiping sweat off her face and crouching down to her knees. Not a single damn in the world if her trousers get grubby. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell held onto their broomsticks as they placed their foreheads on its end, frustrated tears trickling down their faces. 

The sound of wood plopped down onto the dirt as Fred and George Weasley threw their beater's bats and clean sweeps aside. A deathly look splattered across their once haughty exterior.

All of their vigorous training, late nights and early mornings, all of their valiant efforts, all for nothing. They have lost.

What’s worse was that the opposing team was dripping with ecstasy rather than tears or whatever’s on Johnson’s slacks. 3 houses were beaming, but not for the house of red and gold like they wanted. 

It pained Fred that they lost. It hurt him to feel angry and resentful of the prideful smile that graced Y/N’s beautiful lips. Those sweet sweet lips he kissed once, twice, a hundred times now looked so pungent. The fact that the smile he's looking at was full of mock instead of sincerity for his loss made every drop of his blood boil.

Y/N's eyebrows raised once they saw their lover, giving him a cheerful smile and a shoulder shrug. Their hand gripped onto their broom as the other held their soaking leather helmet. They shook their head in celebration, droplets of sweat shooting from the ends of their hair.

They truly looked beautiful, especially with the warm rays of sunlight gracing their skin and robes; Fred was breathless. His heart was thumping so hard from rage as his breathing was suppressed.

He didn't think losing to his partner's house ESPECIALLY if his partner is part of the competition would affect him so negatively, but it did. He wanted to feel happy for them. Genuinely happy for them. But he couldn't, or at least at that moment.

And before he knew it, Y/N was being dragged away by their teammates, whilst roars of celebration followed suit. He wouldn't have a chance to be with them alone now, and probably for the better.

The tension in the Gryffindor common room could be cut smoothly with a butter knife or Colin Creevey's safety scissors. The silence was uncomfortable and Fred's lips were all pouty, leg bouncing up and down, and arms wrapped around his torso.

His mind was clouded with rage as well as a longing to see them, to enrage them like what they did to him, he wanted them to feel how he felt the moment they gave him a cheeky smirk knowing, KNOWING how much Gryffindor wanted to win. To be the one to give their head of house the cup they utterly deserve.

He stood, grabbing a girl's wrist, "Angelina. Come with me, will you?"

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"Kind of weird not seeing you grinding on Weasley right now, Y/N." Y/N's teammate joked, making Y/N choke on their butterbeer. "Like— he looked pissed. Every one of them did. But like— I dunno, I expected more from angry Fred, y'know? Maybe like angry fucks or something?—" Their teammate continued, making Y/N chortle even harder. If there was such a thing as getting drunk on butterbeer, this would be it.

"—maybe even a heated make out session?"

"Fucking hell, why in the world are you talking about my love life? MINE?" Y/N asked light heartedly, getting a shoulder shrug and a mocking glance of their teammate's eye.

"All seriousness though, Y/N. It's weird not seeing him here. He'd still appreciate you, you know? You did amazing!"

Y/N thought about it, but knowing Fred's quick temper, he's most likely cooling down before he meets them at their house party. "He's probably just pissed off. Or maybe they’re trying to stop Wood from drowning himself again, I don't know. There's endless amounts of possibilities when it comes to Gryffindors." Their teammate nodded in agreement and went back to the usual chatting.

Every minute that passed by without Fred showing his freckled face felt like a stab in the chest. They've never ghosted him when Gryffindor won against them, why's he doing this to them now?

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"Fred?! Or is this George? OY WEASLEY? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING ME?" yelled Angelina, being dragged out by an angry red head with a face redder than his hair.

"Just trust me, Johnson." he said breathless, speed walking his way through the halls, Angelina in toe. Dragging her towards the Y/H common room.

He reluctantly took off a wire wrapped ring Y/N made for him and placed it on the pads of his fingers. "Wear this."

"Why?!" asked Angelina angrily. "What are you on about Fred? Didn't Y/N make this?!" Not answering or even giving her words a single thought, he put the ring on the nearest finger he could reach, held her hand, and made his way into the entrance.

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The party was going beautifully, just like every single one that preceded it. It was going as smoothly as a butterbeer running down a drinker’s throat. But something is wrong with the butterbeer. It hit hard. It was bitter. It was burning.

Y/N’s shoulder was tapped by the person next to them, their finger pointing towards the entrance of the common room.

Who in their right mind would put firewhisky in a place no one asked it to be in?

“This party’s beautiful! How come you don’t make Gryffindor party’s this nice?” Angelina said, fingers relaxed in the hand of Y/N’s boyfriend. The man they’ve been with since third year. Now holding onto a pretty girl’s hand instead of theirs. 

And to add insult to injury, a bronze glint shone on her finger, as well as a purple bead. Angelina’s wearing his ring loosely on her thin, nimbly finger.

Y/N froze in their seat, simply staring at the two of them. They looked like they belonged together really. They really did. They looked like royalty, and every time Angelina pointed at something it looked like she was giving a wave. 

It broke them. It finally broke them. The cold Y/N, the stony Y/N, the frigid fucking Y/N broke as a tear ran down their cheek. Shit. He broke them.

“Hey Y/N!” The beautiful Gryffindor chaser waved cheerfully and innocently as she spotted the beater’s partner. But they didn’t respond cheerfully back. Instead, a half empty mug of butterbeer was left at the place they once sat and a fuming Y/N walked away. 

Angelina stood confused until she felt a weight in one of her hands. “What the hell, Fred?” She let go of his hand as soon as it hit her. “Are you using me to make Y/N jealous?! What the fuck is that for?!”

He didn’t answer. It was as if at that instant his once clouded mind became sober. Once drunk with rage now sober with guilt. Yeah, what the fuck was that for? 

“I’m going to find them because apparently you don’t have the fucking decency to do so.” She spat to his face, taking off the ring he put on her finger, throwing it to his face, and following the sounds of sorrow. 

And there the red head stood, face as pale as a ghost and as guilty as a criminal awaiting his charges, knowing, KNOWING that no one would bail him out now. Several heads were looking at him at that moment, but he couldn’t give a single fucking damn.

[et-lesailes]

safe place

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 3500 waow

summary: while clubbing in boston, you happen to see your favorite actor, none other than chris evans himself. unfortunately, his anxiety seems to be acting up again, and you can tell. you have a plan to help him out, and even though you know fully well you could embarrass yourself, you’ve gotta try it for him.

themes: this is just pretty chill n fluffy, highlights struggles with anxiety as well!

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaiderade

note: yeah kinda had sudden muse for this out of nowhere hence the longer word count, and i really luv discussing mental health so i thought it could be kind of interesting to talk about anxiety in this one. tbh i feel like it’s a lot of rambling so i apologize in advance! hope you all like it though!

It had been a while since you had been out with your girlfriends, but now that everyone was back home in Boston for at least some of the summer, it was a good chance to catch up with the friends you had made back in high school and reminisce on all of the good times. You had remained in Boston for work along with a couple of others, but everyone else had moved to all different parts of the country-- it seemed like a miracle in itself that everyone was able to make it back at the same time, but you had also all planned for this. To take the same week off from work, summer classes, whatever it was everyone was doing-- all to go back home and reconvene as one big group.

It was Friday night, and you were ready to hit the clubs. You inspected yourself in the mirror of your apartment where everyone had decided to gather to get ready, smiling satisfied at what you saw. A typical LBD was perfect for a night like this-- yes, it was cliche, but you didn’t care. You looked good. It was just the right amount of revealing, showcasing cleavage and legs that managed to look slightly lengthier thanks to the shoes you had picked for the night, and you had actually decided to do your hair for once. “Whew! You look sexy!” your friend Delia complimented, and you shot her a little grin. “Thanks, Del. So do you, red is really your color.”

After taking at least a couple more shots, you were all ready to go. Piling into an UberXL, you made your way deeper into the city where the best nightlife was, reveling in just the perfect amount of buzz and feeling ready for anything. You had been planning on dancing with a few guys tonight, maybe getting a little action in, but nothing serious. You definitely had not been expecting on meeting him.

_____________

As a group of young women, it was rather easy to get access to VIP. Besides, a majority of you had been brought up in Boston; by now, you knew people, had connections. You were currently lounging on a plush leather couch with a fifteen dollar drink in your hand, deciding to worry about the consequences the next day. Most of your friends were off dancing with other people they had befriended in the club, so it was just you and a couple others chilling, drinking, and talking-- and then you suddenly felt a rough nudge to your arm. “Ouch. Gabby, what the hell?” You wrinkled your nose though you were mostly exaggerating, looking to her with more amusement than anything. “What?” However, you were far more intrigued upon seeing the shock upon her face as she was staring at something a little further away. You followed her gaze, only seeing a crowd of people and iPhone camera flashes in the next couch area a few feet away. “What?” you repeated yourself, craning your neck trying to see what the big deal was. You could see a Red Sox cap sticking out from the center, but that was not anything interesting considering you were literally 3 miles away from Fenway.

And then the figure with the cap moved slightly, and you almost spit out your drink.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Gabby seemed to have found her voice again, her eyes widening. “That’s Chris fuckin’ Evans. Oh my God, should we go say hi?” You still had your eyes on him, unable to help it-- God, he was even more gorgeous in person. You were about to agree instantly, the awe practically taking over your inebriated mind. Of course you wanted to say hi. You had loved Marvel for years now, and Captain America was your favorite Avenger. Not only that, but you had taken a liking to Chris’ acting because of his Marvel movies, which had encouraged you to watch several others. Living in Boston, it had always been a hope of yours that you would somehow run into him, but you never imagined it would actually happen. And now here he was, standing about five feet away from you-- sure, he was surrounded by girls, but you and Gabby could totally squeeze through.

But then you stopped to actually look at him. Not in the fangirling, celebrity idolizing way, but just to actually look at him. You could see on his face that he looked a little tired. Like his smile was forced. It did not seem disrespectful to you, but more so that he was… overwhelmed. He was still taking pictures with every single girl around him, even making effort in having conversation, but you caught every single sign. The frequent looking around, eyes not focused on one thing or one person. How he’d take off his hat and run his hand through his hair, but practically every ten seconds. The slight inward tug of his bottom lip, and while he made it look sexy, it was obvious he was not doing it to be seductive. You had listened to interviews of Chris speaking of his anxiety, and considering you had faced it before and had friends who did as well, it was hard not to see the signs. Now, if anything, you were getting a little pissed at these clubbers surrounding him, even though you were almost quite literally going to be one yourself.

“He seems a little on edge right now,” you noted, frowning slightly. “Maybe we should wait a bit, yeah? It’s not like VIP’s that crowded anyways, so hopefully once those girls leave him alone we can have a chance to just say hi or something.” Gabby sighed loudly but nodded her head. “Okay, okay, fine. But I’m gonna head downstairs to tell the girls. You stay here and keep an eye on him!”

“Wait--” you started to say, not wanting her to spread the news, but she was already leaving in a tipsy fit of giggles and excitement. You sighed and looked back towards him. He seemed even worse than before, and it had only been five seconds.

And then an idea came to you, and you nibbled on your lower lip wondering if you could really be that drunk or if this was just actually a brilliant plan. No. No, no. It was crazy. Absolutely insane, really, and you would look like a total idiot if it didn’t work. Which it most likely wouldn’t.

And so you downed the rest of your drink, barely fazed by the bitter taste of alcohol at this point as you stood up, taking a deep breath. Walking right over, you called out as loudly and confidently as possible over the music. “Chris? Chris! Chris, is that you? Oh my God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you last! I can’t believe you’re back in town, this is great!”

Everyone immediately turned around to look at you, and you prayed that your cheeks weren’t burning. God, what had you done? How drunk could you be? Part of you wanted to simply turn around and run away, it wasn’t like you’d ever see him again. But you watched his reaction, hoping your own expression was visible enough to him to show that you were very clearly hinting at him to go along with it. At least, if anything, this pressure was helping in somewhat distracting you from how damn handsome he looked up close. How was it possible that the camera didn’t do him justice when he looked so hot in all of his photos?

Yeah, maybe you still were a little caught up in how handsome he was.

He seemed a little confused for a second, but suddenly, the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Your heart raced faster. Was he about to laugh at you, humiliate you in front of his fangirls? Or was your plan working? “Holy shit,” he stated, lightly pushing himself through the small crowd to step closer to you. “I didn’t know you were still in town, that’s crazy! Fuck, how long has it been? A year? Two? I’m so happy to see you!” You could not believe it; there were at least a million thoughts running through your mind right now. He actually went along with it. He’s standing right in front of me now. He’s smiling at me, having a direct conversation with me. And he swore, oh God, he sounds so hot swearing…

You snapped yourself back to reality. This was not about meeting your idol at the moment, this was about helping someone with what could turn into a straight up panic attack if this kept on any longer. You smiled back at him brightly before looking around at everyone, clearing your throat. He might have had to be polite because he had an image to protect, but you did not. “Excuse me, can you please leave us alone? Chris is one of my friends and I’d like to be able to catch up with him. And I’m pretty sure half of you aren’t even supposed to be up here…” you commented with a raised eyebrow, eyes glancing towards the lack of VIP wristbands on their arms. There was a lot of scoffing, huffing, and bitchy glares, but they eventually turned away, all furiously typing away on their phones most likely posting photos on every social media site possible. 

You exhaled just as he did, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “I can, uh, leave you alone if you want. I swear I didn’t just do this to be able to talk to you too, I just noticed you looked a little… stressed.” You paused before quickly adding, “Not that I don’t want to talk to you. I mean, fuck, I love your shit, you know? I think you’re a great actor. But you shouldn’t be swarmed by fans or anything. So, yeah, I can leave.” After that word vomit, you decided the only proper way to do said leaving was flinging yourself off the balcony. But instead, he just smiled wider as he looked down at you, shaking his head. “No, no. Of course not. I really appreciate what you did for me back there, trust me.” He tilted his head, seeming curious. “Did I really look stressed?” You blinked but nodded truthfully, biting your lip. “It just looked like a typical bout of anxiety to me, if we’re being honest,” you told him, then wondered if that was somehow offensive. “I mean, I know just because you mentioned having it doesn’t mean you’re just always some anxious person, and I’m not trying to assume anything either but I’ve also had experiences with it too so it’s kind of easier to catch signs, you know? But if I was wrong then I’m really so-”

“You weren’t wrong,” he cut you off, but he was still smiling kindly at you. Damn, his eyes are beautiful. “Yeah, I was definitely feeling a little crowded back there. So thank you. Really. What’s your name? Can I buy you a drink?” You looked up at him somewhat shocked. “Me? Oh, please, you really don’t have to do that,” you shook your head, not wanting him to feel obliged to you in any means whatsoever, even though a drink would Chris Evans would probably be all you needed to die happy. “I’m sure you have friends waiting on you or something, really, it’s okay. I genuinely just wanted to help.” He raised an eyebrow, slightly stepping closer and it was taking you everything not to creepily deeply inhale from how good his cologne smelt. “And I genuinely want to buy you a drink,” he spoke with an amused grin, eyes twinkling even more than before. “Please. Or if you don’t drink, I can at least get you a--”

“Oh I drink.” You cut him off way too fast, then realized afterwards. “Okay, but like, I don’t mean I’m an alcoholic or anything, I just--” you finally just sighed loudly, looking down for a few seconds before looking up at him, silently cursing your brain for not allowing you to sober up at least a little. Despite the fact that it was solely your fault for having decided to chug a freaking vodka sour. “Okay, yes. Let’s do this. But-- unfortunately my friend is about to bring my entire horde of friends up here, so let’s try a different bar in this club.” He was laughing as he listened to you, but it did not feel mean or embarrassing; he simply seemed like he was actually having a fun time with you, almost as if he were a friend. He then blinked, curious and slightly confused. “In this club? Is there another one, besides the VIP one and the general one downstairs?” You laughed softly, nodding your head. “You gotta come back to Boston more! They just opened a rooftop one upstairs that’s way less crowded, but it’s pretty exclusive.” You raised a brow, continuing, “But I’m pretty sure we won’t have any problem getting in...” He chuckled and it was a deep rumble of heaven, but you forced yourself not to be annoying or even more triggering towards his anxiety. “Well, that would have been nice to know earlier, but I’m glad I at least get to know it from you. Lead the way….” he trailed off, waiting for a name to use. You giggled lightly at the slight flirtation, in disbelief that it was even happening but of course introduced yourself, lightly taking his outstretched arm and walking towards the staircase to the roof.

_____________

“Sebastian said that to you? Oh my God, that’s hilarious.” You laughed upon listening to a story he was telling you from a drunken night he, Sebastian Stan, and Anthony Mackie had shared in LA, a beam spread across your entire face. “You guys seem like such cute friends.” He laughed and nodded his head fondly, looking out towards the view. “Eh, they’re alright, I suppose,” he spoke playfully, and you giggled for the hundredth time within that hour, looking out towards the city lights yourself. 

The two of you had been chatting away, the peaceful nighttime air and breeze definitely helping you in sobering up a little more. Not that you had been absolutely trashed before, but you wanted to be as present in this moment as possible. You knew something like this would never happen again, but you were trying not to think about that. You loved that he was also asking you questions about yourself, and seemed sincerely interested, at that. He was so easy to converse with, so relaxed and thoughtful, you felt bad knowing what his anxiety could do to such a kindhearted person like him. You were sure he would have loved to be like this with all of his fans, but he had even explained to you himself that it was difficult for him to be in front of big crowds. “I know that seems kinda ridiculous coming from a Hollywood actor,” he said with a sigh, chuckling lightly, “but I can’t control it, ya know? I wish I could.” You nodded sympathetically, unable to even imagine what it would be like having to deal with such conflict in his current occupation. 

“But what about you?” he asked, surprising you again even though he had shown genuine interest in you and your life this entire time. “You said you’ve dealt with anxiety before, too?” You nodded with a sigh, taking a sip of your drink. “It used to be pretty bad for me in high school. I guess high school’s just a rough time in general, though,” you said with a laugh, shrugging your shoulders. “I still get attacks every now and then, but I’ve learned how to cope with it much better. Definitely better than hormonal, puberty ridden me, anyways,” you chuckled. He laughed too and you tried to ignore how adorable the sound as well as his face was when he did so. “Mm. Definitely don’t wanna reminisce on those days,” he playfully shuddered before tilting his head with interest. “How do you cope with it?” You could not believe Chris Evans was here asking you for advice, but you pondered this over. “I guess this is common sense and easier said than done, but I think I’m just a lot better at being able to mentally step back from a situation and think it through more logically when I’m feeling anxious. I just go through a rundown in my head and remind myself that it’s okay. It also helps distracting myself from it by talking to friends, like to call my best friend if I’m feeling down or weird about something.” You told him, barely biting your lip-- you had never really talked about such topics with any guys before, and it was crazy how it felt so comfortable with a celebrity. 

“Yeah? Well maybe next time you could call me, too?” he asked, and you were practically baffled. “Like, on my cell phone?” you asked rather dumbly, then closed your eyes as you rubbed your forehead. “Okay, yeah. Duh. My cell phone. It’s not like I own a landline. Who really does anymore, besides old people. But I mean--” you stopped and collected your thoughts briefly before looking up at him. “You’d really feel comfortable giving me your phone number? And you actually want to… talk?” He laughed again, even tilting his head back slightly before nodding with a wide smile. “Yeah. I mean, hell yeah, I do. I’ve had a lot of fun talking to you tonight.” He slid his phone out of his pocket, unlocking and handing it to you with a hopeful grin. You slowly smiled, nodding and taking it from him to input your number. Much to your delight, when handing it back he went straight to sending you a message, looking to you as he arched an eyebrow playfully. “You have my number now, right? You didn’t give me a fake one?” You blinked before laughing loudly, taking your phone out of your little crossbody bag. “Why the hell would I give you, of all people, a fake number?” You waved your phone at him to show him that the message had come up on the device, then looked down at it to save his number. You had assumed he just sent a “hi” or an emoji, something simple-- but you paused as your eyes scanned the words on your screen.

“Go on a date with me.”

You stared at it somewhat dumbfounded before looking up at him, knowing your cheeks were slightly red. “A-a date?” you asked; sure, the two of you had been hitting it off and flirting a little, but you had kept reminding yourself throughout the conversation that he was a celebrity. He probably had tons of girls in his life, you were someone who could just be an acquaintance. If that. But now he wanted to take you out on an actual date?

“I’m in Boston for the next few months. And I know that’s not permanent, but I really, really liked talking to you tonight, and.. I want to see if this works. Please.” You almost didn’t reply due to being too shocked that he was begging you to date him, but you quickly cleared your throat. “I’d… yeah, I’d really like that.” You admitted, feeling excited and terrified all at once. But that was how dating should feel, right? “But, um, how does this… work? Do you, like, not want me to tell anyone…? Do I not save your number at all, in case anyone hacks into my phone? Or should I just save you as a fake--”

“Okay, okay, don’t go all secret agent on me.” He interrupted you with a loud laugh, eyes twinkling fondly as he gazed down at you. “Honestly… I trust you. Call it a gut instinct, but I do. So tell whoever you’d like, or don’t. The only thing I’m more worried about is your own privacy, because it most likely won’t be respected if we’re not careful about this. But when it comes to people knowing about me taking you out, that’s fine with me. I’m allowed to have a love life, aren’t I?” he said with a smile, then glanced down at his phone. “Oh, shit. I need to go, my brother’s waiting for me. And I’m sure your friends are, too.” He looked at you and chuckled softly, probably at the disappointed face you wore. “Hey. Text me tonight, alright? Promise.” You smiled at that, arching an eyebrow playfully, teasing, “Wow, you’re already pretty needy, huh? Yikes, what am I agreeing to here?” He blinked before scoffing, though clearly amused. “You know what? Yeah, I am. And it’s your fault.” 

He suddenly took a light hold of your waist, gently pulling you closer to him and leaned down. You widened your eyes slightly but did not move away, looking up into his beautiful blue orbs instead silently confirming that you were alright with what was about to happen. 

You would remember that kiss for the rest of your damn life-- you were sure of it. 

[skullsandwineglasses]

To Dear Myself Review/Rant

If you’ve had the patience to watch all 45 episodes until the end, then you probably know what I’m going to talk about in this review. I feel like it’s pretty unanimous that the ending was awful. 

It’s a slow burn slice-of-life drama. I don’t normally watch these types of dramas and instead go for the ones that are fantastical and far away from reality so that I can completely get lost in another world. But Liu Shishi and Zhu Yilong are familiar faces, and I’m more likely to start a bad drama with familiar actors than a good drama with unfamiliar actors, because I’m basic and want to invest as little attention and mental effort as possible (it takes work to warm up to new faces). 

The drama started off promising: it introduced obstacles that normal couples and families would face. Obstacles like money, social class, infidelity, unemployment, workplace competition, the value and desirability of “aging” women who prioritize work over love. It was relatable, even though some of these are unfamiliar experiences for me, a psychology grad student in her mid-20s. I didn’t expect this drama to be inspiring. I didn’t want this drama to be inspiring. But I wanted it to be at least logical, if not realistic. The drama seemed to promise reality though, which I held out hope for, but instead it butchered the character arc for most of the leads. 

[spoilers ahead]

The devolution of Li Si Yu and Chen Yi Ming’s relationship was laughable. 

LSY is afraid of marriage, while CYM believes that the ultimate goal in life is to get married and have a family. They don’t see eye to eye on this, and so the pressure causes them to break up. I respect this. It’s a common problem: you can’t really move forward when one isn’t ready to settle down, and the other isn’t willing to wait or support them. CYM is portrayed as a calm, composed, and morally upright person who feels uncomfortable when LSY makes a questionable decision. But CYM is also a hypocritical person who suppresses his feelings. Whenever he’s displeased, he acts as thought everything is fine until he can’t hide it anymore and explodes with unbidden rage. He punches the roof of the car, he slams the desk. It’s a little scary tbh. LSY is portrayed as a passionate and impulsive career-driven woman. She has to make tough decisions, and you understand why she makes them. Whenever she’s unhappy, she’ll let you know. The drama seems to set up a character development arc for these two flawed characters. 

LSY starts her own company, but then fails, and ends up learning that while it’s important to fight for what you believe in, but you shouldn’t be too caught up in whether your fail or succeed. It’s the classic “it’s about the journey, not the destination” kind of lesson. 

After a bout of heartbreak, CYM is swept off his feet by the manipulative Wang Ziru. She lies to him, evades him, controls him. At this point in the drama, we think that LSY is better off without him because he seemed to have moved on so swiftly. CYM and WZR seem to have a calmer relationship than the one he had with LSY. They never argue. We see that he’s easily attracted to confident, powerful women, but expects them to settle down with him when they’re not ready. For a third of the drama, he’s happily in love with WZR and doesn’t think about or interact with LSY (except when he comes to her office to tell her to shut her company “for her own good”). It looks like he completely moved on.

LSY on the other hand, misses him. She’s always looking at the only picture that she’s saved of them together. She still loves him. 

I liked that they introduced Guan Xiao Tong as a potential love interest for LSY. Despite being over a decade younger than LSY and constantly being looked down by her because of this, I thought he was quite mature. I also liked how LSY wasn’t “moved” by him. The typical drama would have her eventually reciprocate his feelings and make him her rebound. Yes, she was amused by him, but she knew that he wouldn’t grow up fast enough with her, and so she never led him on. It made their relationship wholesome. Even though LSY  wasn’t attracted to him, I liked how the drama normalized a potential may/december relationship between a woman and man. Though I don’t think I can forgive the drama was making him disappear so abruptly after he found out that his dad was struggling financially. Maybe the drama implied that GXT was too busy “growing up” by helping with his dad’s business so his relationship with LSY came to an end and that he was no longer relevant to drama, but that wasn’t made clear at all. 

Zhi Zhi also stopped appearing after the 3rd last episode of the drama when she decided not to marry the misogynistic Su Li Xing and to instead stay in Shanghai for her career, which also implied that there could be a chance for her and Liu Yang to get back together (their storyline is a whole other can of worms, but I have to admit that no other drama, movie, or book has made me cry as hard as Zhi Zhi confronting the mistress and then getting publicly slapped by her husband. Not sure if it was the drama itself that had the power to move me, or if it was because I watched that scene at 3am on a Thursday, or because it reminded me of some personal experiences, but either way, I sobbed hella hard that night).

But back to LSY and CYM. In the last 2 episodes of the drama, they start appearing together in scenes again. There are some unresolved emotions. There is still attraction. Nervous, longing, awkward glances. After nearly 20 episodes of believing that a reconciliation is impossible, you start wondering if the drama is hinting that they’re gonna force them back together in the last 2 episodes. CYM sells his apartment to support LSY’s project. Haowen tells LSY that CYM still calls out her name when he’s drunk (although it’s still unclear if this was just a gimmick to distract her to sign the sale agreement). 

CYM can’t give WZR a straight answer about whether or not he still loves LSY. He punches Gong Jing in the face for cheating LSY out of her shares. 

And even after all this, guess what happens? He confronts WZR. She tells him she lied to him to help him preserve his dignity. She tells him she had to do underhanded, unethical things in order to save the livelihood of an entire company that she’s responsible for. He’s moved. He’s grateful for her thoughtfulness towards him. He stands by her. He chooses her. 

I mean, what? Does he really love her that much that he’s willing to look past everything she’s done? All the crimes and hurt she’s committed? I don’t need to him to get back together with LSY. I don’t want them to. I think he’s a terrible character who believes that happiness and fulfilment only comes form finding a woman who’s willing to let him love and dote on her. But this decision just doesn’t match the morally upright character we’ve been sold with at the beginning of the drama. LSY only made one morally questionable decision, of which she apologized for, and yet CYM was already questioning whether or not they should continue their relationship because he felt like they were going different ways. And yet he forgives WZR? Because he loves her? But? What about those ambiguous, uncomfortable faces he made when he was with her? Like that scene when he helped take off her coat before she went into the awards ceremony, and he stood back, leaning by the door, staring off into the distance looking sad and regretful?? What are we supposed to make of those scenes and expressions? I probably shouldn’t victim blame, especially since WZR created an uneven power dynamic in their (lowkey toxic) relationship, but I’m just not sure what the scriptwriter was trying to do with this plotline. It felt like they were condoning WZR’s behaviour (despite saying she was arrested in a voiceover) because CYM forgave her. Or were they condemning CYM’s passiveness? Again, not clear.

And then the final scene with the women marching on happy and hopeful, and then men staring out onto the city skyline looking lost and depressed? Female empowerment is great, and it was nice that they were all single at the end (except for Xiao Ling, I guess), but was it really necessary to tear men down to emphasize this? But then again, the drama kind of had to since they wrote shitty male characters. I just dislike creating the winner/loser dichotomy. 

I respect that Liu Yang is working his way towards forgiveness and has found what he’s passionate about. But I don’t know if he’s forgivable, because what he did was pretty unforgivable, but he’s showing growth and is working towards redemption, which is somewhat admirable. 

Haowen went from being the most level-headed one to becoming the most impulsive and obsessive one. 

CYM is just blank. Absolutely blank. There is nothing interesting about him. At first you pity him for being the one who’s always chasing after LSY and being the one to give in first for the sake of the relationship, but then you realize that he’s just trying to mold himself into what he thinks is the “ideal” boyfriend, which he thinks is someone who is able to succeed without the help of his girlfriend. He thinks it’s weak to rely on the help of his girlfriends, which is ironic since most of the career moves he made in the drama were directly because of his girlfriends. 

Anyway, I could just go on about how much I didn’t enjoy this drama, and other people on youtube and mydramalist have ranted more eloquently about this. I usually don’t write drama reviews unless there’s something I’m deeply unhappy about. 

My recommendation? Don’t watch this. But if you’re curious, don’t be afraid to jump and skip scenes. There are no likable characters. Even Zhi Zhi doesn’t start to become likable until she decides to leave her husband. Is this a feminist drama? Yes to the extent that it normalizes women in their 30s who are single and career-driven (which is a pretty big deal in China where unmarried women over 25/27 are considered “leftover” women), but I’m just not sure whether the plot does justice to these women. The verdict is still out on that. Thoughts?

Oh and one final qualm that I have with this drama is the LSY and WZR never had a final face-to-face confrontation. After everything that WZR did to LSY, LSY never got to interrogate WZR. WZR could have even gave LSY some final parting words. Instead, CYM took LSY’s place and the drama made it seem that WZR was only answerable to him and no one else. There was just absolutely no closure from this messy, messy drama.

[hamilton-one-shots]

What if you did a fic with 2p! Hamsquad? :00 I'd die for that - Stump Anon 🌳

(I’ve been in love with this idea since I first saw it, tbh

Edited by: @dflwrites

For those who don’t know: 2p! characters are essentially polar opposites of the original character, an idea started in the Hetalia fandom, and, typically, they are murderous or at least can be drawn to it more easily than most. Having said that: 

TW: Domestic abuse, graphic violence, child predators, murder, derogatory language, use of the f word

Also, yes, Hetalia fans, two of these are really close to two Hetalia 2p characters. I tried not to, but they fit so well.)

John sighed and scrolled through his cellphone mindlessly as he waited for his friends to join him at the bar. He’d already had an entire soda waiting for them. He knew that it wasn’t good to have so much sugar, but it had been a whole hour!

As he scrolled, a message popped up from his friend Alexander.

[Lexi :): Hey, sorry, but we’re going to be late.]

John pouted and responded.

[That’s fine! I’ll see you guys when you get here :)]

He sighed and messaged his boyfriend, Hercules, asking if he was joining him, at least. While he waited for a response, he noticed a man messing with the bartender and moved closer to see what the trouble was.

“I already told you, James, it’s over.. Just leave me alone,” she groaned.

The man reached over the bar and grabbed her arm roughly. “Do you honestly think you have a better alternative? We both know you’re leaving here with some loser for whatever he offers you. You might as well go home with me for free.”

“Let me go!”

John looked around to see if anyone was going to help, but they were just a bunch of drunk men, trying to encourage her to just agree to whatever the jerk was saying and to make their drinks. John found it sickening… He took a deep breath before walking over, tapping the man on his shoulder. “Excuse me sir…”

The man rolled his eyes and looked down at the other, scoffing at his pastel blue sweater. “Stay out of this, fag.”

John was hardly fazed. After all, he’d heard much worse and he had to focus on helping the poor woman. “You should leave her alone. I don’t think she wants to be touched and it’s not good for you to force her into anything.”

“Fuck off,” the strange man growled, John catching the strong scent of alcohol on his breath. It was vile.. But useful.

He backed away and moved to another bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. He took them back to where he’d been sitting before, adding something special to them both, and waited.

Once the man backed away from the girl, John took his chance, walking over with the two shots.

“I’m sorry for earlier… I shouldn’t have interfered. A man has to do what a man has to do,” he shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “What do you say we just down a shot and forget about what happened?”

The other hardly thought before taking the shot that John was offering.

It was important that John fixed both. Some took the one he offered, some took the one he kept toward himself.

John smiled and down the shot at the same time as the man, filtering the disgusting drink through his teeth and reluctantly swallowing it, feeling the capsule that he’d added stopping at his front teeth. He put down the glass and began to walk off, but was stopped by the same man.

“Don’t be a pussy. Take another shot with me.”

“Oh, um… I don’t drink much.. It was just a friendly offer,” John explained, pushing the capsule under his tongue.

“Just one and I’ll leave the bitch alone for a while.”

John winced at his harsh words, but if it got him to leave her alone… All he really needed was a few minutes, but the more time she went without him, the better. So, he agreed and downed another shot, slowly starting to feel its effects.

“You know what? For a little fag, you’re alright,” the man said, clapping his hand hard against John’s back.

John laughed uncomfortably and left to the bathroom, spitting out the capsule and emptying his stomach, just for good measure. It may not dissolve in anything weaker than stomach acid, but stomach acid was something that the drinks had already hit and, oh, how he hated getting drunk. He didn’t like how he acted so wild, so out of control.

Once he was done, he flushed his mess away and walked out, ignoring the screaming crowd that surrounded the corpse on the floor and shooting the pretty bartender a smile, asking for a glass of water.

Hercules dragged himself off of the couch and out of the door in sweats. He was just going drinking, so what was the point in throwing on “real pants” as John called them. He walked down the streets and was about halfway to the bar when he passed a playground. He instinctively turned to look - he had a secret soft spot for kids. Well, and for puppies, but kids don’t make John cry from fear. Anyways, he saw this teenager with a full backpack and a man talking to her. She was clearly uncomfortable, leaning away and taking a few steps back, but he was persistent, moving closer with each step away she took.

Hercules glared and made his way over, pushing the man away from her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What? I’m just offering her a place to stay. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same,” the man grinned. “She’s beautiful. She should find somewhere to stay before some creep snatches her up.” He tried to move past Hercules, but was stopped as he grabbed his shirt collar, tossing him to the ground.

Hercules turned towards the girl. “How old are you?” he asked softly, his demeanor completely changing.

“Twelve… My mom says I can’t go back because I said I’m a boy..”

“That’s awful..” His grip tightened on the man’s collar as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone and headphones. “Here, listen to some music as loud as you can and keep your eyes closed, okay? I’m going to punish him for what he tried to do, then I’ll get you some help, okay?”

He nodded and did what Hercules did, shutting his eyes tight and listening to loud music.

Once it was loud enough for Hercules to hear it, he turned back towards the man, a dark gleam in his eye as he shoved him onto the ground.

“You think it’s fine to pray on children?” he asked, his tone calm as he sent his foot flying into the creep’s spine, making him shout out in pain.

“Hey! Don’t fucking scream. You scream and I swear to god, you won’t be getting away from this alive,” he threatened.

It was that simple. The false promise of life always made them shut up.

Hercules knelt down. “I bet you’ve done this before, haven’t you, you sick fuck?” Out came his pocket knife and in it went to the creep’s right lung. Next, of course, it struck lower, definitely giving the creep the castration he deserved. Those muffled screams were music to his ears, the sound of justice that he knew would never be served otherwise.

“This is what you do to those who you’ve hurt, I hope you know that,” he continued, his voice as calm as ever. “You think it’s cool, you get off on hurting these kids, but it lasts,” he hissed. “People tell them it’s their fault, that they shouldn’t have trusted a man like you. I’m here to show you that your bullshit won’t go without consequences.” He got his knife back. He’d done enough to seal his fate.

Hercules wiped his hands on the creep’s clothes and stood up, tapping the kid’s shoulder and turning them away. “Hey, I’m going to go wash my hands, then I can take you to my place, if you want. Just to give you a place to crash.”

“Did you kill him?..” he asked, hesitantly.

Hercules shook his head. “I just hurt him pretty badly..” It wasn’t technically a lie. “I know his type. He wouldn’t have stopped hurting kids like you if I just let him go. And, don’t worry, I never hurt kids,” he reassured.

The kid hesitated before nodding, deciding to trust Hercules. “I don’t want to go home..”

“And I won’t make you. You can crash with me and my friends as long as you want.”

“Okay…”

Hercules smiled before standing up straight again, going to the bathroom and cleaning up his knife as well as his hands, then taking the kid back to his place, where he knew he’d be safe.

Lafayette stayed outside of the bar as Alexander went with John, just feeling like having a cigarette in the quiet before dealing with all of those people. He stood in the alley and lit his cigarette, smoking in peace until this asshole approached him.

“Hey, honey, what’ll it cost for you to let me smash?”

Lafayette scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please.. You are not worth my time.”

“Alright, what about for a good suck? It’d be a better use for that pretty little mouth.”

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

The weirdo smacked the cigarette from Lafayette’s hands. “Why don’t you get off your high horse?”

That was it. Lafayette grabbed the guy’s shirt and turned him, slamming his back against the wall and spitting in his face. “I recommend you get out of my damn face before you regret it. I can make you wish you were never born. I’ll make you wish you were dead, that you’d never made the mistake of calling me some whore.”

The guy was definitely intimidated. Lafayette looked like he could crush his skull if he wanted to. “Fine, just let me go.”

“Let you go?! Where was the letting me go before you smacked my cigarette out of my hand? Don’t you know better than to touch a smoker’s cigarette?”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Shut the hell up and look me in the eye.”

There was a split second of hesitation, but the guy did just that.

“When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were never-”

Lafayette was cut off by the blast of a handgun going off, a bullet going straight through the stranger’s brain. Lafayette groaned as he was coated in blood and glared down the alley, not surprised to see his boyfriend, Alexander, standing there, John standing beside him with his hands over his eyes.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Lafayette demanded, throwing the corpse onto the floor.

Alexander shrugged.

Lafayette tutted. “Well, you got blood all over me. Now I actually have to shower,” he grumbled before walking over to them.

“Um… The cops are coming… We have to go home,” John said meekly.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “You could’ve started with that.” He pulled off his dirtied hoodie and tossed it into John’s arms. “Happy?” John always bugged him about how long he wore his clothes, but what was the point in washing them if he was just going to wear them again? What was the point in getting new clothes when his own fit him just fine.

John was smart enough not to respond. They may have been friends, but Lafayette wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him, badly. He even called him chubby once. But this wasn’t the time to cry. It was time to go home.

As they began walking, Lafayette followed John in his tank top, his arm around Alexander and his hand resting on his boyfriend’s ass. “Next time, at least give me a warning. It’s not the same as when I inject them, but it is nice to see the light leaving their stupid eyes.”

“Sure.” Alexander didn’t really get it. Lafayette’s way of killing involved too much work. Why would they do that when a gun could do it in half the time? But he didn’t feel like saying it out loud. It wasn’t his place.

“I hope Hercules won’t be too upset that we have to go home…” John commented. “I’m sure he got out of bed and everything.”

“Oh, grow a pair,” Lafayette snapped at him. “I don’t know why you have to cry over everything. You’re such a pussy. Alexander never says anything, but at least he doesn’t cry.” If there was anything that he truly hates, it was men who couldn’t keep in their own feelings, like everyone else.

John felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “Such a wimp.”

Alexander shrugged. John should be able to do what he pleased, right? But it wasn’t up to him to tell Lafayette what to do either.

Besides John’s crying, the rest of the walk home was quiet, none of them expecting the surprise that Hercules had in store.

[skeletonscribbles]

9 & 17 for the prompts!! :D :D :D

hello lovely!!! this prompt has been a joy - thank you for checking in and specifying Stanlon. I’ve actually not written straight up Stanlon before, so I hope I did them justice - and tbh, Richie ended up commandeering the whole thing anyway. I really couldn’t stop him. so - bonus Reddie!!! 

Anyways, if you like this fill even half as much as I like you, I’ll consider it a success.

so, here is like a thief in the night, baby’s first Stanlon ficlet prompt 9 (”so you’ve started stealing my socks now”) and prompt 17 (”you owe me a cookie”)

and if you’d rather read it on Archive….here you go :) 

It was rare that Mike Hanlon felt that he didn’t know what to do.

He’d grown up knowing that his father would insist upon his being prepared for every minor occurrence, and so he had become a young man that was fastidious about knowing what he was doing before he did it. He researched, he practiced, he did whatever he could do to make sure that he was ready and able to face any task that came his way.

The irony of the fact that it was love (of all things!) tripping him up wasn’t lost on Mike. He’d read countless love stories, and had watched his friends fall in and out of love a zilliion times over the years. He thought he was prepared to take on the challenge.

He was very, very wrong. Love in practice was way different than love in theory, and Mike wasn’t even sure how to talk to the object of his affections, let alone, like…ask the person out or something.

Unfortunately, people were starting to notice his lack of confidence.

“Has everything been all right with you, Mike?” Stan asked him one day as they were preparing to head home after a sleepover at the Toziers’. “Or, rather, is there something you’re upset with me over? We haven’t really talked in weeks.”

“Oh.” Mike had been avoiding Stan, but it had nothing to do with being upset - quite the opposite, actually. “Um. No, we’re good, Stan. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Stan smiled a rare, warm smile, and touched Mike genially on the arm. Mike felt the pressure of Stan’s hand on his elbow like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Perfect, straightforward, no-nonsense Stanley Uris, keeping Mike’s life in place without even knowing it.

God…the love stories he’d read hadn’t even come close to describing what it really felt like to have a dizzying, world-altering, soul-shattering crush. This was torture.

“I’m not hurt, Mike, don’t worry. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m okay,” Mike confirmed, and watched with a knot in his stomach as Stan nodded, confident that he’d resolved things, and walked out of the Toziers’ front door and towards his old blue Ford Taurus.

When Mike went back to the farm, he was greeted with the exciting news that his mother and father were planning on managing the farm themselves that morning, so he wouldn’t be required to join them until the afternoon. Great. More time to himself to mull over how stiltedly awkward his interactions with Stan had become.

If he’d just had more time…if he’d asked Stan to wait a minute (no, that would have been too weird), or offered to carpool (too late - they’d both taken their own cars over, and also they didn’t live anywhere near each other, so that was out), or even offered to take him out to coffee (too much like a DATE, Mike, come on), he could have explained himself, or at least gotten over the stupid mind block that seemed to be popping up every time Stan was within fifty feet of him.

How could he buy himself a few extra minutes with Stanley Uris?

The answer didn’t come to him that day, but rather a few days later, when he was going through his drawers in an attempt to find his favorite purple t-shirt and prove to his mother that she was crazy for thinking that it was in the wash. He’d just about made it to the bottom of his shirts drawer when he saw it: a crisp white button down with navy blue pinstripe patterning.

How had Stan’s shirt ended up in his drawer?

He had a veritable collection of clothing from the rest of the Losers, now, because they spent a lot of time at Mike’s parents’ farm in the summer and as such, lost items weren’t a huge deal, because they knew that everything would turn up again eventually. The current pile included but was not limited to: Bill’s cheap cereal-box watch, an old t-shirt of Ben’s, a belt that was too small to fit any Loser but Bev, tiny tube socks that Mike was pretty sure he’d seen Eddie wearing a few weeks ago, and a pair of Richie’s underwear (it was a long story)…but Stan never forgot anything. Stan kept a detailed inventory of all of his things, clothing included…and even if a shirt had slipped under Stan’s radar, there was no reason at all for it to be in Mike’s drawer.

Mike’s mother had been right about the purple shirt, but Mike couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about it. He had an opportunity in his drawer, now, and he was ready to use it.

He pulled Stan aside after the Losers’ next excursion to the Aladdin, and opened his bag awkwardly, hands fumbling with the zipper, and then with the shirt.

Stan’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that mine?”

“Um.” Mike moved a hand up to his face, half mortified and half nervously excited. “I found it in my room. Figured you were probably looking for it.”

“Oh.” Stan gently took the shirt from Mike’s hands, and then smiled softly up at him - and oh lord, had Mike ever seen Stan smile like that? It was like he’d let his guard completely down - there was no sharp, cynical edge to his features at all, only genuine appreciation, and Mike felt all of his resolve shift towards a single goal: getting Stan to smile at him like that more often.

“Right.” Mike found his voice for long enough to shakily respond. “Yes. Right. Um. Did you like the movie?”

Stan laughed softly, and shrugged his shoulders, turning to rejoin the rest of the group. “It was fine. Could definitely tell that it was Richie’s choice today. You?”

Mike stared at him for a moment, and then his legs kicked in, and he was shuffling along after Stan. “I thought it was funny - and it was probably extra funny for me, because I was sitting next to Eddie, who just kept turning redder and redder the whole time. Richie mouthing along to the dumb jokes really got to him, I guess.”

Stan shook his head, and Mike watched his curls bounce, entranced. “Those two are such a mess. I hope they sort themselves out soon…it’s getting annoying.”

It took Mike a minute to process what Stan was saying, but once he’d realized the implication in Stan’s words, the beginnings of a plan lit in the empty spaces of his mind.

“So you’re saying you think Richie needs help with Eddie?” he asked quickly, wanting to make sure he was understanding things right.

Stan paused and looked back towards Mike over his shoulder. “I mean, not exactly my point, but Richie could always use assistance in interacting with other people.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“No reason,” Mike said quickly, trying to figure out the best way to get Richie alone.

—-

Mike didn’t end up having to plan a thing. Richie showed up by himself the next day.

“Buenos dias, Mikey!” Mike looked up from his gardening with a frown as Richie drove his banged-up old truck off the road and over the grass towards where Mike was squatting.

“What do you want, Tozier?” Mike asked, willing Richie to stop before he accidentally ran over an important plant.

Richie slammed on the brakes, and Mike winced at the high-pitched noise they made. Richie really needed to have his car looked at. Mike was surprised that Eddie hadn’t taken a wrench to it already, but considering the state of things between Richie and Eddie, it kind of made sense that normal friend occurrences were falling by the wayside.

“Was in the neighborhood,” Richie said, opening the truck door and swinging himself out. “Thought I’d stop by and pet a chicken.”

Mike crossed his arms over his chest. Richie had pet the chickens exactly one time - one peck on the hand had been enough to get him to swear up and down that they were evil and that he would never touch them again. “Interesting, but why are you really here?”

Richie stopped and stood next to Mike, lanky frame towering over him in the sun. It would have been intimidating if it were anyone other than Richie. “Stan sent me over. Didn’t tell me why, but made that really scary Stan face at me, so I figured I should actually see what he was on about.”

Mike nodded, wondering how Stan knew that he wanted to talk to Richie. That boy was better at social inferences than anyone gave him credit for.  “I won’t tell him you’re scared of him if you don’t tell him what I’m about to tell you.”

Richie’s face lit up, and he crashed down onto his ass, sitting cross-legged next to Mike. “Secrets, eh Micycle? I happen to be a master secret keeper, you know–”

“Remember when you told the whole ninth grade that Bill was interested in Kelly Jenkins?” Mike asked flatly.

Richie was undeterred. “Details,” he said flippantly, grinning at Mike. “So, what’s up?”

“I, um.” Mike felt his face going red, and silently cursed. Richie was never going to let him live this down. “I want to….talk to Stan more.”

Richie’s half-surprised, half-elated face looked a little bit like someone had electrocuted him. It was very unattractive, and Mike wanted to tell him so, but Richie was talking before Mike had the chance to say anything. “YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON STAN THE M–PHHHH”

Mike clapped a hand over Richie’s mouth, and braced himself for the inevitable licking. Sure enough, after about three seconds he felt Richie’s tongue against his palm…but he wouldn’t relent, not this time. “Shut your trash mouth, Trashmouth. Yes, I am….interested in Stan…and you are not going to tell anybody. Anybody. Are we clear?”

Mike removed his hand from Richie’s mouth with a jerk, and Richie was left with his tongue hanging uselessly out. He spluttered, took a quick breath, and then nodded, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

“Crystal. Gotta say, though, sexuality-wise I’ve always thought you were more of a Prince than a David Bowie.”

Mike shrugged. “Eh. I just like who I like, I think. Doesn’t really matter. My folks don’t care, as long as I’m being responsible.”

“You and Stan are like…the definition of responsible.” Richie immediately made a face at that realization. “Oh, God, that’s terrible.”

“Anyways,” Mike continued, ignoring Richie’s obvious disgust at being surrounded by people who actually did well with rules and structure, “I think I’ve got an idea about how to buy myself some extra time with Stan without being weird or forward about it, and I need your help.”

Richie held out two fingers. “Two things. One, I don’t know what your plan is at this point, but knowing both of you I guarantee you’re wrong about things not being weird.”

“Fuck you,” Mike said sourly. “What’s the second thing?”

Richie leaned up so that he was uncomfortably close to Mike’s face. “What’s in it for me?” he asked, putting on a voice, and Mike felt like he really had no choice at that point but to shove him.

“Pick an accent and stick with it, dude.” Mike shuddered and stood up, picking up his gardening shovel. “I was thinking I could make sure you and Eddie got some alone time at sleepovers. You know, so you don’t have to keep making up excuses for dragging him off.”

Richie’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses. “Wh–excuses? Me?”

“All of us know that Eddie wouldn’t actually join you for a smoke break.” Mike rolled his eyes,and offered Richie a hand up. Richie took it begrudgingly, and Mike pulled him to his feet. “Admit it - neither of you are smoking out there when you go.”

“Fine, fine.” Richie was uncharacteristically flustered: his ears were red, and he kept fidgeting with his hands. Mike thought it was kind of funny - like watching a cat try and fit itself into a space it was too small for. “How long are we talking, here?”

“Upwards of thirty minutes,” Mike promised. “Way better than the ten minutes here and there that y’all have been sneaking.”

Richie pretended to consider Mike’s proposal, but they both knew what he was going to say. “Deal,” he finally conceded, reaching out a hand for Mike to shake. “Now, what’s this plan of yours? Oh my God, wait - Stan…plan…..”

“Don’t go down that road,” Mike warned, “and here’s what I think I want to do.”

By some incredible miracle, Richie managed to hold off his laughter until after Mike was finished explaining his whole idea. Unfortunately, that meant that when Richie started laughing, he couldn’t stop.

“Mike!” Richie wheezed. He’d fallen back down in his fit of giggles, and Mike was scowling at where he was curled up on the ground. No way he was getting a hand up this time. “That is…….without a doubt……..the STUPIDEST–”

“Will you do it or not?” Mike asked, exasperated.

“Yeah,” Richie said, with obvious fondness in his voice. “You know what, I fucking will.”

—-

Richie was an idiot, but he was an idiot that was true to his word, and two days later, Mike was in possession of Stanley Uris’s watch.

“Stole it from right off his wrist,” Richie had bragged, “arcade finger skills at work. If you ever need a heist team, Richie Tozier’s your man–”

“Thanks, I’m not bailing you out of jail,” Mike had told him, shutting the door in his face and mentally trying to make a list of things that the Losers could do without Richie and Eddie. (It was a long list of things. Richie and Eddie were so loud most of the time that it was often actually more pleasant to do certain things without them.)

Stan had been far more startled to see the watch than he had been to see the shirt.

“Where did you get this?” he asked incredulously when Mike handed it to him outside of the ice cream parlor. He’d asked Mike to hold his ice cream while he re-fastened the watch to his wrist, and Mike had acquiesced excitedly - it felt kind of official, to be holding Stan’s ice cream like that. He wondered if that was how Richie and Eddie felt all the time.

“Found it in my bag when I got back from the Aladdin a few days ago,” Mike lied. “Must have fallen off and in…lucky it didn’t land on the floor of the theatre.”

“Strange,” Stan frowned, “I thought I had it when I got home from the movies…”

Mike shrugged helplessly. “Minds are weird things. Yours must be playing tricks on you.”

Stan sighed and shook his head, holding out his hand to indicate that he’d like his cup of ice cream back. “It’s too much time with Bill is what it is. He’s making me forgetful by proxy.”

Mike jolted upright at Stan’s words. Had Stan and Bill been hanging out together? Privately? He could see why Bill might want to spend time with Stan - Stan was the funniest Loser, after all, and the smartest, and the bravest, and oh God, Bill probably had a crush on Stan, didn’t he? He would be stupid not to….but…was Bill even gay? Did Stan even–

“Not that I spend time with Bill outside of group hangouts, of course,” Stan continued, interrupting Mike’s frantic train of thought, “but still.”

Mike shifted, embarrassed at the path his thoughts had taken. “Do you spend time with anyone outside of group hangouts?”

“No,” Stan said, turning to face Mike. “Not really…but I’d like to, with some people.”

Mike felt his eyes grow wide, and he swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond. “Well–”

“You guys coming?” Bev called pushing her bike up next to them. “Hurry up and finish eating, slowpokes. We want to swim.”

“We’ll be right there,” Stan promised.

“I think it might take Richie and Eddie a while, though,” Mike quickly added, trying to uphold his end of the bargain he’d made. “Eddie spilled his and had to get a whole new one. They’ll probably be late.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “Idiots. Anyways, hurry up. Bill, Ben and I are leaving.”

Once Bev was out of earshot, Stan turned back to Mike with a bemused grin. “Eddie spilled his ice cream, huh?”

“You don’t want to know,” Mike muttered, and begrudgingly began making his way towards the trash can.

—-

Mike’s plan was short-lived for two reasons: Richie was a terrible thief, and Stan had excellent attention to detail.

The ice cream cover-up had assured Richie that his arrangement with Mike was mutually beneficial, and so he’d agreed to continue smuggling items over for Mike in exchange for the occasional cut-out with Eddie. Unfortunately, he was stupid enough to try and make a grab for Stan’s stuff on the night of a sleepover at the Uris residence, and Stan was a notorious stickler about people touching his things.

The confrontation had gone down in Stan’s room, while most of the Losers were curled up in the Uris living room watching Nightrider. Mike had noticed Richie sneak off, and had subsequently noticed Stan follow Richie upstairs with suspicious eyes, so he figured it was probably in his best interest to follow both of them to make sure they didn’t end up in a no-holds-barred brawl.

He had, of course, been right.

“So you’ve started stealing my socks, now?” Stan was hissing on the other side of the door when Mike reached the top of the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Richie? Are you just trying to mess up my stuff to make me mad, because–”

“No, dipshit,” Richie shot back, “I’m looking for my bag–”

“Your bag is downstairs and you know it,” Stan snapped. “What is going ON with you? I thought you’d be happy with the fact that Mike’s trying to give you and Eddie some space, not try and sneak off on your own to cause chaos, you idiot.”

“You know about the space stuff?” Richie sounded confused, and a little upset. “Wait, how much of my agreement with Mike are you in on?”

“Mike’s helping you and Eddie,” Stan said carefully. “That’s it, right?”

Richie gave a short laugh. “Ohhhh, nope. Stan my Man, you are in for quite a…como se dice….surprise–”

“That’s enough, Richie.” Mike entered the room before Richie could do any more damage. He knew what that probably meant as far as what he’d have to admit to Stan, but it was better coming from him than it was from Richie, even if that meant that Mike’s stomach was currently doing Olympic-level backflips. “Go back downstairs. Eddie’s wondering where you are.”

Richie looked as if he kind of wanted to stay and find out what the outcome of the Stan and Mike discussion was going to be, but the mention of Eddie’s name was enough to lure him back downstairs. “Aight. Good luck, friends. Thoughts and prayers to you in this trying time.”

Richie departed as quickly as his gangly limbs would allow, and Mike was left staring back over at Stan.

“What was he talking about, Mike?” Stan asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I asked him to take your stuff,” Mike explained, unable to meet Stan’s eyes as he confessed.

Stan jerked backwards in surprise. “Why?”

Mike took a deep breath, concentrated on Stan’s forehead, and said, “I wanted to have an excuse to spend more time with you.”

Stan’s eyes widened, and he blinked at Mike for a few silent, agonizing seconds.

Then, he burst out laughing.

“Mike!” Stan was doubled over, almost in tears already. “Oh my gosh, Mike - I did the same thing!”

Mike squinted at him, unable to figure out what was so funny. “I don’t follow.”

“I made sure that shirt was in your dresser!” Stan wheezed, looking up at Mike with bright eyes. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you!”

Oh. OH. That made a lot of sense - there was really no way the shirt would have gotten into Mike’s dresser if Stan hadn’t put it there himself. Oh.

Oh.

Stan had stopped laughing, and was moving slowly towards Mike - shyly, like he almost expected Mike to turn him away.

“Of course, I might be misunderstanding,” Stan said in a low voice, and the air suddenly felt heavy.

Mike willed himself to look anywhere but Stan’s lips when he responded, “I don’t think that you are.”

“Good,” Stan whispered, close enough to pull in and….and….

Mike had never felt less prepared for a moment in his life, but it was upon him: Stanley Uris was brushing his lips against Mike’s lips, and every single one of Mike’s nerve endings was on fire.

Stan pulled back far enough to be able to examine Mike’s face, and seemed to be satisfied with what he found there. He smiled, brushing his fingertips against Mike’s cheek.

“You want to spend some time together, maybe?” Mike asked, words like a waterfall out of his mouth. “You and me? Alone? Together? That was what you were talking about at the ice cream place, right?”

“Very good,” Stan nodded, beaming. “I was, and I would like to.”

“Adorable. Fucking disgusting, actually.”

Apparently, Richie hadn’t left after all. Mike and Stan turned to find him leaning against the doorway.

No, wait - Eddie was in tow. He’d left, and then come back.

“Is there something you want, Richie?” Stan asked coldly.

“Yes.” Richie jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get out.”

Stan gaped at him. “This is my room!”

“And Mike owes us some alone time,” Richie said, gesturing between himself and Eddie, who looked absolutely mortified at Richie’s behavior, “and you, Staniel, promised me a cookie for sneaking that shirt into Mike’s drawer, and here I am, cookieless, so the least you could do is clear the room and let Eds and I get busy on your bed–”

“Not on the bed,” Stan hissed at the same time that Eddie yelped, “Gross, Richie!”

“Okay, okay.” Richie held up his hands. “Not on the bed, clothes stay on, and so on and so forth. Now scoot. Bill only sleeps in thirty minute increments. Fucking psycho.”

Mike and Stan looked at each other, and Stan proffered a hand out to Mike.

“You ready to take this outside?”

Mike smiled. Finally, finally, finally, the reins were back in his hands - finally, he knew what to do.

“Let’s go.”

[hey-itsnxel]

Level Nine.

*I never posted this fic on tumblr, but after just editing it, I figured why not?*

Rating: General Audiences. Words: 3,025 Tags: Rich Dan, Bartender Phil, Short & Sweet, Drunkeness Summary:  No one ever sat at the bar, until one night someone did.

[read on ao3]

Phil wasn’t sure how he ended up bartending at one of the most prestigious bars in New York City. One minute, he was pouring beer at a sports bar, barely getting paid minimum wage, and having to deal with the obnoxiously drunk groups of college kids that hung out there and the next? He was being whisked away by a man in a suit that probably cost more than Phil’s whole apartment to the rooftop of The Belmont Hotel.

Just like everyone else who frequented the bar scene, he’d heard about Level Nine. Despite being far past the ninth floor of the hotel it sat atop of, Level Nine was the kind of place only rich people could afford to step into. Gone were the frat boys spilling beer everywhere. Now it was socialites; It was men in business attire sipping rum and cokes by outdoor fireplaces while they discussed politics and business deals. Couples who were dressed to the nines, little black dresses and Gucci suits, downing extra dry martinis faster than Phil could make them.

It was for the socially elite. The rich. The famous.

Somewhere Phil definitely didn’t belong. Yet, here he stood, black slacks and a white button down shirt donned and martini shaker in hand. His hair was meticulously pushed back into a quiff despite knowing the strands were bound to fall in his face by the end of the night.

He just had to look the part. No one here had to know that he lived in a shitty one bedroom apartment on the other side of the city, no one had to know how pathetically broke he was until he got this job, no one even had to know his name if he didn’t want to tell them. It didn’t matter though because no one ever asked. Phil wasn’t even sure if he’d heard anything other than drinks orders since his feet his the patio floor on his first day.

Tonight was no different. The city lights were spread out like stars, a harsh contrast against the sky. The sound of traffic was muffled by the music playing over the speakers. Phil briefly wondered what it would be like to live this kind of life as he tipped a bottle of champagne into the flute in his hand, dropping a few raspberries to the bottom of the glass once he was done. The bubbles rose to the top and he repeated the process four more times before signaling a co-worker to come take the drinks where they needed to go.

No one ever sat at the bar. There was a set of three stools, matte black from top to bottom, sitting empty in front of him. The only human interaction they ever received was when someone bumped into them while ordering a drink. He supposed it would be weird to come to a place like Level Nine and talk to the bartender. They should probably just move them, honestly.

Phil had gotten lost in his thoughts of barstools and living the socially elite dream life when he heard someone’s fingers tapping against the bar. He jumped as he saw them, fumbling with the glass he had been wiping in his hands, before regaining some of the composure he was supposed to always have while he was working. The man didn’t even give Phil a chance to say anything before slapping a black card down on the counter, ordering a pair of manhattans, and walking away towards a much younger boy on the terrace.

His eyebrow rose as it fell on the black card. Even for Level Nine that wasn’t common. But he decided to think nothing of it and went to work making the man’s drinks.

Phil didn’t interact with the man again until he came back for his card. All his drink orders had been placed through one of the waitresses, who he had running back and forth all night. He signed off on the receipt without a word and walked out the door, hands stuffed angrily in the pockets of his pinstripe suit.

The boy who he had been sitting with was still on the terrace, a half empty glass dangled precariously in his left hand as he leaned against the railing. His head was hung, curls occasionally getting tussled by the breeze that had begun. With a sigh, he tipped the glass back like a shot and placed it on the table, walking out without a glance in Phil’s direction.

-

It was cold.

The outdoor fire places were lit, the hidden heaters in the base of the patio roof were on. None of those luxuries extended to the bar though, so Phil was freezing. His hands shook as he ran the cleaning rag over the surface for what felt like the 30th time despite their being nothing to wipe away. It was their dead hour, that awkward time where everyone was out eating dinner and had no reason to be at a bar. Yet Phil still had to stand there, attention ready, just in case someone were to come in.

He always felt awkward standing around doing nothing. He got fidgety and nervous, which resulted in him repetitively wiping down the counters and unused barstools. He turned the liquor bottles so the labels faced outwards, wiping the cloth over them as well. It was his least favorite part of the day.

Luckily, it seemed that part of the day wasn’t going to last very long.

Despite being early into their dead hour, the door of the elevator swept open and the same boy from a few nights ago stepped out. Phil hadn’t had a chance to look at him until now. His hair was dark, the same color as the whiskey he poured every night, falling in a mix of wavy curls across his forehead. He was wearing a black suit, minus the jacket which was draped over his arm. A black tie hung loosely from his neck.  All of that seemed normal from what Phil had gotten used to. Expensive suits were almost as common at Level Nine as the taxis were on the streets below. What really caught his attention, however, was the black and white Converse on his feet. The laces were tied sloppily, the sides scuffed, and they were a complete contradiction to the probably designer suit on his body.

The boy hesitated in the exact middle of the patio, his eyes flickering to the couches where he had sat previously and then back to Phil a few times, before his converse clad feet began to make his way towards the bar, eventually leaning against the counter.

“Hey. How are you?”

Phil was surprised. He wasn’t used to anything other than drink orders, but this random boy (who barely looked old enough to be in here) had his head tipped to the side, waiting for Phil to answer.

“I’m doing fine, thank you. What can I get you this evening?”

He looked past Phil, slipping onto one of the stools in front of the bar as he eyed the rows of liquor bottles on the shelves behind him. Phil’s eyebrow rose subconsciously. Much to his dismay, his mouth began moving on it’s own accord.

“No one ever sits there.”

The boy looked back at Phil, propping his chin in his hand.

“Well, I’m happy to be the first. I’ll look like less of a loser if I’m sitting here drinking as opposed to sitting over there drinking by myself. Rum and coke. Heavy on the rum, light on the coke.”

He flipped open his wallet, sliding yet another black card across the counter. That was two in one week. Phil stared at it blankly, his mind running with thoughts. Daniel Howell. The name on the card seemed familiar but Phil couldn’t grasp where from. It had to be somewhere important if he had a black card of all things.

Daniel seemed to read his mind, sighing slightly before he started speaking.

“Howell and Son Law Firm. My dad is Howell, I am unfortunately the son. One of them anyway.”

Oh! Duh! Now Phil could see it. The commercials, the newspaper write ups, the feature in that random magazine that had been accidentally delivered to his door. It all made sense as to why he would have a card of this caliber. He was slightly embarrassed at being so transparent. It took Dan all of ten seconds flat to practically read his mind and only another few seconds to do it again.

“Don’t worry. I get it a lot when I use that card.”

“Oh, right, I apologize.” Phil plastered his best customer service voice on as he moved to pour his drink.

To his surprise, Daniel laughed.

“You don’t have to be that professional with me. Trust me, I am nothing like anyone who comes up here.”

“I could tell by the Converse.”

Phil mentally slapped himself for saying that, turning on his heel to apologize. His words were caught in his throat when he saw the sheepish expression on Daniel’s face. His lips had quirked into an embarrassed smile, shrugging so faintly that Phil barely noticed it.

“Yeah, full disclosure, my father is going to have a fit about that whenever he shows up. So, I’m warning you to take cover.”

He watched as Dan forced a laugh, rolling his eyes in a way to was meant to be sarcastic. It came off as more sad than anything.

“I think I’m the safest out of everyone here. I have a whole bar to hide behind.”

Phil felt Dan watching him over the rim of his glass, his eyes following him as he moved around behind the bar to place the bottle back. It was unnerving, to say the least. Everyone who came to the bar barely cast Phil a second glance and now some lawyer’s kid was practically staring him down.

“What’s your name?” Finally breaking the silence, Daniel placed the glass down on the counter with a clink.

“Phil. I’ll add that to your lists of firsts, no one here has asked me before.”

The frown that fell across Dan’s face was sincere, his brow furrowed immediately. He took a slow sip of his drink, swirling the liquid in the glass.

“Rich people suck, tbh.”

Phil nodded a bit too quickly, making Dan snort. Their conversation , along with Dan’s drinks, flowed naturally from there.

By the time Dan’s father showed up, Dan was a bit drunk. His eyes had glassed over a long time ago, his sentences reducing to giggles every time he stumbled over a word. Phil had found the whole sight adorable, spending a solid portion of their conversation coercing Dan into drinking some water.

“I hate it, you know?” Dan slurred, leaning back on the barstool in a way that made Phil’s pulse quicken. He resisted the urge to reach out and push it back down to the floor.

“Hate what?”

“This.” He waved around, the stool wobbling beneath him before Dan moved forward and grounded it again. He leaned across the counter as if the next words that were going to leave her lips were some big secret. Phil obliged and met him in the middle, eyebrow risen.

“Working for my dad sucks. Going to law school sucks. Having to sit on that couch and talk about my future sucks…” Dan had turned the stool so he was looking away from Phil, his eyes locked on the elevator door. As if on cue, his father and an older boy stepped out. With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder at Phil. “… I think most of all, my brother sucks.”

Pushing himself away from the counter, Dan grabbed his jacket and headed towards the couch. Just like he had warned, his father was already chastising him about the shoes. The brother stood off to the side, looking incredibly smug as he nodded along with everything Mr. Howell was saying.

-

For the rest of the night, Phil found himself staring towards Dan’s corner. He was slumped back against the couch, nursing a vodka tonic Phil had just made. The brother, who Phil found out was named Alex when he saw his credit card, was talking animatedly. Mr. Howell was practically beaming at every word that came out of his mouth. When the conversation fell on Dan, his expression immediately changed. He looked disapproving and stern, his lips drawn into a tight line as he shook his head everytime Dan spoke.

The later it became, the less Dan spoke. Until it was almost like he wasn’t there at all.

Phil found himself feeling bad for Dan. Despite only talking to him for an hour or two earlier, he could admit he’d developed a tiny crush on the brunette. They had a lot in common despite coming from two different paths of life.

When Dan got started on something he loved, the way he talked about it was captivating. Even if he was drunk. Phil had found this out when an older pop song started playing throughout through the speakers. Dan had immediately swerved the conversation onto that, ranting a mile a minute about different styles of music and how they’d changed over the years. Admittedly, Phil didn’t care but found himself hanging on every word Dan said like his life depended on it.

Maybe the crush also stemmed from the fact Dan was the first person in Level Nine who had spoken more than two words to him. He had seemed genuinely interested in whatever Phil was saying even stopping him to ask questions. Phil had never been more paid attention to in his life.

It was late. People had started to drift out of the bar, leaving only the  Howell’s and a few odd people meandering about. Dan caught Phil’s eye from across the room, rolling his eyes with what Phil assumed was supposed to be subtle head nod towards his brother.

It definitely wasn’t subtle.

His father and brother had already turned their heads, casting a single glace at Phil before before turning back around. Mr. Howell stood up and Alex followed, leaving Dan slumped against the couch. It was sad that it didn’t surprise Phil when they left without speaking a word to Dan.

“Bye to you too.” Dan huffed, loud enough to attract attention from the few remaining customers. His father didn’t turn around, the elevator doors already closing behind him. Phil smiled sympathetically at him, to which Dan raised his empty glass, mocking a cheers motion from across the patio, before returning to the barstool he’d claimed early.

“Well that sucked.”

Phil was already sliding a glass of water down the bar a lemon wedge on the side (because ‘water without lemons was gross’ according to Dan.) Dan twirled the lemon in between his fingers, fumbling with it before it fell to the floor. His bottom lip poked out in a pout as he looked down towards the floor, eyes lifting to Phil in the best puppy dog expression he’d ever seen. It took Dan approximately three bats of his eyelashes before Phil was practically power walking to the end of the bar where they kept the fruits for cocktails and placing another lemon in Dan’s drink.

“Thank you, Philly.”

The smirk on Dan’s lips alongside the nickname made Phil roll his eyes and a blush creep onto his cheeks simultaneously.  

“It’s my job.” He mumbled, resisting the urge to take the lemon away out of spite (he would just end up giving him a new one five seconds later anyway).

Dan stared at the water, silently watching the condensation drip down the side, while Phil resumed the nightly cleaning schedule for the bar. Every so often, he could feel Dan looking at him, but he’d always looked back down before he could catch him in the act.

“You’re the last person here, you know we technically closed like 30 minutes ago.”

Phil moved from behind the bar, the latch of the gate clicking behind him.

Dan hopped from the barstool, his feet hitting the floor with a thud.

“I know. I was waiting for you to get off.”

Swinging his arm forward, he motioned for Phil to lead the way.

“Why?” Phil started walking, pausing in front of the elevator before turning to the stairs the employees usually took. Dan quickly looped his arm through his, stopping him dead in his tracks. Before Phil could object, he had pushed the button for the elevator door and drug Phil inside.

“So I can take you home, duh.”

The way Dan spoke made it sound like it should have been obvious. His confidence faltered a split second later, when he started stammering over himself.

“I mean, like, literally home. I’m not trying to fuck you or anything yet.... Not yet like I’m planning on it or anything. I mean I could be into that one day if you’re into that. I mean literally take you to your house. Is that creepy? Now that I’m saying it outloud it sounds incredibly creepy.”

Phil couldn’t stop himself from erupting into a fit of laughter. Dan’s drunken rambling was almost as cute as the blush the spread across his face. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, looking up at the weird designs painted on the ceiling.

Once he finally calmed down, he turned to Dan.

“It’s not creepy. But, you definitely can’t drive right now.”  

“Phil, Phil, Phil." Dan tsk-ed sarcastically, shaking his head, before he wrapped his hand around Phil’s. "You think I, the son of the man who founded Howell and Son Law firm, drives himself anywhere? Ha!”

Phil deadpanned at his dramatics. What was even happening?

“No, seriously. I have a driver tonight. Let me take you home?”

Phil hesitated, but after taking one look at the hopeful expression on Dan’s face, he knew there was no way he was going to tell him no.

(Little did Phil know, this wouldn't be the last time he found himself in the backseat of this car. Funny how things work out sometimes.)

[peachywise]

in pace requiescat

richie tozier x reader

– one-shot

– synopsis: You had beat him. You had finally beat Pennywise. It had cost you your life, but that was a small price to pay to save the life of the boy you loved. 

– notes: this was requested by anonymous!! “A blurb where you die while fighting Pennywise and Richie(bf) is like super depressed and he visits the bench where you met and just sits there and thinks about good memories you had there and the losers all try to comfort him and he just like freaks out and starts yelling and stuff and then breaks down.” death & blood tw and just general angst tbh, and YEP the fic is in the point of view of you, richie’s dead s/o, have fun 

This was going to kill him. 

The irony wasn’t lost on you. Your death would cause him to die. If you were still alive, you were sure the two of you would have joked about it. But not now. Now, it wasn’t funny at all. 

As much as you felt horrible about what had happened, you wouldn’t have changed a thing. If there had been some way to save Richie and your friends from Pennywise without dying, hell, that would have been great, but it wasn’t possible. The demon had been so close to ripping Richie’s heart out, so fucking close, that you hadn’t even thought about it. You just pushed your boyfriend away and got slashed by those dagger-like hands instead. Immediately after, you remembered thinking, “really? I’m getting killed by someone’s fucking nails?”  Even now you felt pissed that you hadn’t gone out in a much cooler way. Being eaten by a killer clown was a much better story.

Richie’s face at that moment scorched into every fibre of yourself that remained. You had never seen your boyfriend cry before, but the sob that had ripped through him was something out of a nightmare. He kept touching your face, his fingers digging roughly into your skin, leaving trails of red with what you assumed was the blood that spilled out of your chest like a grotesque river. You tried so hard to reach up to touch his face back, to stroke his hair one last time or to graze your finger tips against those stupid glasses you loved so god damn much. Part of you recalls repeating his name over and over, but you’re not entirely sure. The shock took over pretty fast. 

What you were positive about was telling him you loved him and to kick some ass. You were also positive he told you he loved you and to kiss his ass because you weren’t going anywhere. 

He was partly right. You were still here, in a sense, but only in spirit. Not in body. That useless lump of flesh was still down in the sewers where they had defeated the son of a bitch who had tormented your friends for far too long.

You weren’t sure you could move on to whatever proverbial plane of life came next until Richie moved on from what had happened. As you watched him sit down on the bench where you two had first met, his beaten down body language told you it wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

Bending down in front of the slouched over boy, you had an unbelievable urge to brush his dark floppy hair out of the way to see his scratched (but hopefully not scarred) face. But you couldn’t, of course. 

You weren’t really there. 

“I want to go back to that day,” he finally whispered, “when we met.” His voice was rough, raw. Where was your vivacious Richie? You wanted to hear that voice. The one so full of vibrato and life, that had made you laugh every day since you had met on that very bench. 

“It was so stupid,” he chuckled humourlessly, “I saw the back of your pretty head and decided to scare the shit out of you. What a fucking first impression.”

You remembered it well. You were just a young kid, scared of everything that came around the corner. Literally. Too bad for Richie you had more of a fight response than a flight and you knocked him in the face when he yelled in your ear. His glasses flew right off his head and shattered on the ground. It was the first of many poor unfortunate pairs.

Ever since that day, this had become your spot. You’d ended your first date here. Had your first real fight here. Had your first kiss and your last. Any time you were sad, any time he was angry or overwhelmed, you always ended back at this very bench. 

You didn’t want to see him so devastated at your special spot. 

“You’re a real bastard, you know that right?” You laughed softly to empty ears. He couldn’t hear you, but you wanted him to. He needed to know you were there with him. 

Looking away as you heard footsteps behind him, you were so fucking happy to see that the rest of your friends weren’t too beaten up. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself for Richie, you would have done it for any one of those beautiful losers currently clasping one another’s hands in an attempt to not fall apart. 

“Richie,” Bill started, his eyes a puffy red, dirt smeared on his pale features. Maybe in whatever came next, you would see little Georgie Denbrough again. You could let him know how brave his brother had been, how much he had loved him and fought for him with everything he had. How much Bill missed him and would always miss him.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Richie gritted out, his head still hanging low. He always was a stubborn ass. 

“We just want to— “

“Want to what!” Richie screamed, finally raising his tear stricken face as he stood up and turned to face his friends. 

“You want to tell me it’s going to be fine? Or better yet, tell me that it’s so clearly not fucking fine, but eventually it will be? Because that’s bullshit! All of this is bullshit!” 

His chest was rising up rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, panic and sorrow quickly taking over his mind. You wanted to scream back at him, tell him to stop, tell him to shut the fuck up and be sad, not angry. But mostly, you just wanted to hug him, and let his tears stain your stupid shirt because right now he couldn’t use his own as it was still soaked with your blood. 

Mike, the brave soul, stepped forward and tried to wrap his arms around Richie. Instead, he got rough hands to the chest shoving him away, and Richie yelling at him, “back the hell off!” 

“We’re not going to leave you here alone! Y/N wouldn’t want that!” Stanley countered, his voice raised in a more obvious tactic to get through your boyfriend’s thick skull. 

“How would you know? Y/N is dead! They’re dead, Stan! They’re dead, they’re dead, oh God, they’re dead…” his voice choked out, getting progressively quieter as he repeated that very statement over and over, each time eating away at whatever pieces of you were left. 

This time, when Mike tried to wrap his arms around Richie, he didn’t struggle. Bill soon joined, and pressed his forehead against the softly crying boy, frantically trying to connect.

“It should have been me,” Richie broke, and damn if you didn’t feel like you had died once more. What a thought to have. You couldn’t imagine a world without Richie Tozier, and you were sure if he had died, the rest of the world would have crumbled to bits. He was needed. He was so desperately needed like the air your lungs no longer breathed in. 

“Don’t you fucking say that,” Beverly gritted out, and you only just noticed the tears that were streaming down the brilliant girl’s face. What a sight to see. You never thought you would live to see the day the red-headed girl cried. Looks like that was true. 

“Don’t downplay what Y/N did to feel sorry for yourself. They loved you so much that they gave up their life for yours. They gave you a chance to live, just as you would have for them,” she cried. Richie looked up at her helplessly.

“You have to live your life Richie,” Eddie spoke up, his voice carrying the most strength of them all. God, you would miss Eds.

Richie’s panic finally weakened him to the point where his knees bent, and he fell to the ground, his sobs quickly turning into hiccupping cries. He nodded his head weakly, as every single member of the Losers’ Club surrounded him and hugged him and protected him like the family they were. 

“We’ll continue on. For Y/N and Georgie,” Ben sadly smiled, and Bill’s own eyes started watering again. 

Kneeling down to where each person you loved circled around each other, you broke into a hopeful smile as Richie reaffirmed almost soundlessly, “we’ll continue on. For Y/N and Georgie.” 

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you whispered a final, “I love you.” 

Lifting his hand, he touched it back, and breathed, “I love you,” too. 

– general tag list: @multi-parker @stan-the-losers-club-man

[thebachelordiaries]

Mental Breakdowns And Little Dick Energy: ‘The Bachelorette’ Ep. 5 Recap

The show went from Salt Lake City, aka Mormon country, to Las Vegas, aka the only place in the U.S. where prostitution is legal, in the span of one week. I’m low-key impressed with how on-brand this is.

1-on-1 With Colton

Colton has terrible fashion sense, craves attention and has a mediocre personality. If he wasn’t a former professional seat-warmer for the NFL I would think he could be a virgin...oh wait.

To warm Colton up with the idea of humping, ABC decides to have Becca and Colton take a camel ride along the Virgin River. You can’t make this stuff up.

This is my ideal aesthetic right here.

During the dinner portion of the date, Colton talked about his former relationship (with Aly Raisman.) We learn she never said “I love you” back to him and she dumped him. I mean, we already knew Aly was a savage, so I’m not surprised.

Becca said something interesting to Colton. She said “Out of anyone, I feel like it’s out story.” I guess that means Becca likes him, but he’s still trash. They have great physical chemistry. That’s it.

Group Date With Wayne Newton

*Heavy sarcasm* Producers really went on a creative limb to come up with new date ideas this season. It’s almost like we had a songwriting date two episodes ago...but this time it’s with Wayne Newton.

The guys had to come up with their own rendition of “Danke Schoën,” which yes, I did have to Google to figure out how to spell. All of them were cringeworthy, but the worst was Chris, who somehow actually thought he was doing a good job. His personality makes it seem like he’s overcompensating for something. Can you say: little dick energy? 

It’s obvious to me the two front runners are bug man Blake and Andrew Keegan impersonator Jason.

Blake told Becca he’s falling in love with her. Becca, in an ITM, she said she’s falling for him too, and she knew it from the beginning.

Becca always hangs on to Jason like a needy child, but in a cute way...? I’m probably not explaining that right. When she got up to leave the date, she whispered a special “See you later” to Jason and grabbed his hand.

No other guys stand a chance, tbh.

The highlight of this group date was the beginning of the downfall of Chris, who did not get time with Becca on this date. Stay tuned for an upcoming mental breakdown. Note: I knew he was a douche all along. I just knew it.

2-on-1 With David and Jordan

There are some people out there who are actually Team David. I want to gather up all of those people, put them on an island, put a giant fence around said island and take away all forms of water transportation so they can never leave. 

All 2-on-1 dates are intentionally designed to be awkward and no fun at all. This date was in some sort of desert and had a striking similarity to the most iconic 2-on-1 date in Bachelor history: Ashley I. vs Kelsey.

While that date still reigns supreme, I will argue that this date comes in a close second. 

So David, who is only on this show to antagonize Jordan, told Becca that Jordan said he would be “settling” if he ended up with her, and some other lies for good measure. The below tweets sums up how I feel about David pretty well.

Jordan, understandably, was very angry with David’s lies, which he defended as being his perception of the truth. Jordan, however, ripped David a new one (see Jordanisms below) and won that battle. The creepy part was that while Jordan was destroying David, David just kept talking over him in a monotone voice saying things like, “I’m a genuine guy,” and “I’m such an honest person.” It made me want to punch him in the face. Kudos to Jordan for having self-control. Then again, he’s a Wilmehelma model and has an image to uphold. And David’s nose is already broken anyway, so it would all be for naught.

Jordan not only won this battle, but won the war. Becca ended up sending David home first. Becca didn’t even hug David goodbye because even she knows he’s a little liar. 

David said Jordan doesn’t care about anyone but himself, but all David cared about was Jordan, so how is that any better? Actually, talking crap about someone else is way worse than being egocentric. That’s why you lost, David.

Jordan was sent home later during the dinner portion of the date because all he did was talk about himself. Still, he won. David lost. May we all rejoice in the name of karma.

Here’s our final round of Jordanisms until Bachelor In Paradise:

“It blows my mind. Honestly, like, the wind is leaving my sails. I’m looking for a handle to grab onto, because I don’t know which way this is going.”

“Love is the greatest power on earth. Being me is my greatest power. You get that? Being you isn’t your greatest power. That’s why you got to talk about me.”

“You’re uninspiring. You lack integrity. You lack passion. You lack charisma. You lack your own personality.”

“Go in the real world and make a f*cking name for yourself before you try to ride mine, ok?”

“Why did the chicken cross the road? To get buried in the f*cking desert.”

“[David] ran his beak too much and got his head chopped off.”

“Aw, I should shove my foot right up your f*cking ass.”

“I’m happy I could be a better man than David, but it doesn’t really feel too much like that, because I’m going home in the same day.”

Rose Ceremony/ Chris Unhinged

Now let’s get back to Chris’ meltdown: Chris tried so hard to manipulate situations with his words during the cocktail hour and failed miserably. The desperation in his eyes got more apparent as the night went on.

Firstly, he interrupted Wills after already having time with Becca, and then got mad that Wills wouldn’t give him more time after Wills let him have an additional two minutes. But Wills stood his ground like the mature, well-dressed, bootylicious man he is.

Next, Chris complained about Wills to the other guys, and when Wills returned, Chris claimed Wills was getting defensive and attacking him. Wills was calmly like, “Um no, I’m not doing any of those things. I didn’t have to give you time at all,” and Chris was like, “blah, blah, blah, whine, deflect, attack.” and claimed everyone was “acting like a victim” (which is SO RICH coming from him) after Garrett and Connor sided with Wills.

Wills left the conversation after it started heating up. We love a nondramatic king.

Long story short, Chris doesn’t give a rats ass about anyone’s time with Becca besides his own. And for some reason, he thinks that’s okay.

Also, Garrett seemed pretty annoyed with Chris which almost makes me almost like him. Almost. 

I feel like we’ve all met a “Chris” at some point in our lives who makes everything about him. His time is most important. His opinions matter most. His word is gospel. Well guess what, Chris? I know a loser as soon as I see one. See below:

P.s. Saying a woman “owes you” like 50,0000 kisses is incredibly wrong. No woman owes you anything. Ever.

Damn, we JUST got rid of David and my blood is already boiling over.

Next episode, we’re heading to the state for lovers: Virginia. 

The face you make when you realize you made it to the fifth week and haven’t left the country yet.

At least Jason will soon get the one-on-one he deserves, so maybe Virginia won’t be that bad after all.

[boyf--riends]

review of Be More Chill!

i’m about to talk a lot about the show and the cast! if you don’t wanna read but you wanna hear about the talkback, the audio posts have just gone up and for those of you who want the review it’s under the cut!!!

- you can see jeremy violently pull down his pants before More Than Survive starts 

- the bus ride was so cute!! the actors jostled around like they were actually on a bus and it was super fun to watch even though it was literally only 5 seconds long

- the reason why chloe calls jeremy out is because he tried to sneakily snake his arm behind brooke to get to his locker and it looked like a weird pervy move

- rich walks straight into jeremy and we were blessed with “dOn’T TouCH Me TaLL aSs!!1!” and jeremy just stands there as rich violently scribbles on his back pack

- michael entered from the audience and accidentally hit my friend in the face with his backpack strap and did his lil marley jam session and the crowd went fucking nuts

- ”boyf. what does this mean?” jeremy turns around and so does michael so their bags read boyf riends and michael turned to jeremy and made kissy faces/noises the mom behind me violently whispered “what the hell is a boyf” tbh its a mood 

- jake lifts christine up in all her glory to sign up for the play and tbh,, i aspire to be that extra

- I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL HOLY SHIT

- christine is so excited the whole time and god did her actress fucking kill the part

- when jake talks to christine it was pretty obvious he was nervous but tried to play cool and i really liked that

- two player game started and i shit you not the person in front of me started crying

- jeremy does not like to talk to his dad or about his mom

- “im your favowite pewson” michael nuzzles jeremys shoulder and jeremy shoves him off and he dramatically falls on top of the bean bags

- they had two of the ensemble actors as the payless employees and it was kinda weird but i went with it

- when they said it was top secret stuff michael was behind jeremy taking pictures of the stuff inside the box and it was super funny

-i thought jeremy picked out some kinda unisex blue v-neck ladies shirt not a sparkly pink tube top what the fuck

- “BecauSe SHe chEaTEd on MEeeEEEeeee” he rolled on the ground so fucking dramatically

- Do You Wanna Ride made 89% of the audience so uncomfortable but everyone went wild when brooke went “pi-i-i-i-i-i-i-ink beeeeerrryyyyy”

- jeremy’s voice cracked when he said everything about him made he wanna die and the squip turned the whole thing around but he kept that evil smirk on his face the whole damn time

- jeremy sleep singing Be More Chill while being carried to his bed and getting tucked in was so cute dont make me mention the “sleep tight slugger” bc my heart broke

- chloe totally psychs out christine before Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into and when jeremy enters christine pulls out of that whole funk and it was super freaking cute

- whenever christine does anything jeremy looks so love sick its adorable

- when christine said jake you could see physical pain on jeremy’s face before he grabbed his stuff and ran out

- brooke and jeremy had sex during upgrade (he comes out from backstage after making out with brooke, buttoning up his pants an smoothing out his shirt) and i was so fucking SHOOK 

- michael looked so angry and hurt but he got all excited when he figured out the squip worked but jeremy just stood there and didn’t even move to go after michael

- THE LIGHT WAS SHINING ON MICHAEL WHEN HE ASKED IF JEREMY WAS COMING THEN THE LIGHT WENT OUT AND ALL YOU COULD SEE WAS THE SQUIPS LIGHT NEXT TO JEREMY AFTER HE SAYS OPTIC NERVE BLOCKING: ON

- the costumes for halloween made me nut holy shit the barking unicorn was my favorite

-after the song is over rich is the only one still on stage and he’s twitching and repeating “halloween” over and over again until he walks off stage

- brooke was so excited to see jeremy and christine was so excited to see jake but they both were pretty rude and both girls loked pretty upset afterwards

- chloe rubbed herself all over jeremy and when she gave him the baby bottle full of alcohol jeremy loked genuinely panicked when the squip made him drink it

- Do You Wanna Hang also made 89% of the audience uncomfortable but it turned pretty funny when jake punch through a fucking window

- michael covered head to toe in trash is such a mood but jeremy look so relieved when he finally saw michael

-  “I had this whole spiel about 12 years of friendship going right down the drain” jeremy looked so guilty but michael looked so hurt and betrayed especially when he was trying to explain why the squip was bad

- jeremy shoved michael into the bath tub after he called him a loser, and all the parents who had no idea what BMC was gasped, and everyone was already crying

- Ryan Everett Wood is such an amazing actor and he really made Michael In The Bathroom the best scene in the whole show

- while jeremy and christine exchange weird noises, the dude in the unicorn costume sits up and just starts barking at them before he passes out again

- they make fun of rich for spazzing and asking for mountain dew red before the squip tells jeremy to skedaddle before the fire

- all of the shiny metallic costumes in Rich Set A Fire really highlighted the guys’ muscles and i liked it

- pitiful children was so well choreographed and i really want a pair of those sick light up sneakers

- as the show goes on and the squips control over jeremy gets stronger, the make up gets more intense and the squip starts to look more dishevelled and corrupt

- jeremy totally fucking roasted his dad (his dad looked so sad and shook) and what does his dad do?? run half naked to michaels house of course

- michael is getting high asf and sitting in a onsie burning stuff

- mr reyes is wearing jeremys costume and he looks so proud of himself until he sees jeremy 

- michael made his entrance through the audience and everyone lost their god damn MINDS

- michael is such a petty bitch like,, jeremy is literally on the ground in pain and he’s just “hmmm no sorry u gotta apologize ://///” and if that ain’t me,,,,,

- michael literally holds jeremy with his arms and legs and jake just shrugs and grabs the mt dew red before pouring it out and michael looks so SHOOK

- “did the squip heal your legs???” in the most evil yet nonchalant high school jock voice i’ve ever heard “No I just can’t feel any pain. and its AWESOME”

- when christine comes out michael starts to walk away like “whoops theres christine looks like he won’t give up the squip now” but gets so excited when jeremy tells her to drink the mt dew

- everyone starts shrieking and michael looks terrified and starts screaming too and when everyone passes out michaels still screaming “AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHHH FUCK”

- rich is in a legit full body cast but he looks so happy once jeremy wakes up and starts talking to him

- “oh my god i am totally bi” rich sounded so excited and the audience clapped and cheered

- rich and michael kinda had that “you were the only other person in this hospital room i could talk to and you’re not that bad of a person” vibe when voices in my head started playing

- jake looks like he’s about to punch jeremy but he sends him off with a lil bro hug and it’s such a pure interaction!! jeremy looks so stoked that everyone is still talking to him after the play!!!!

- “i think that all of us want to go out with you” they have sweet make out kiss thing and the whole cast is on the high beams looking down at them so fondly 

- the squip comes back and jeremy just started to sing louder and it was so good and such an empowering moment

LITTLE NOTES ABOUT THE CAST: Everyone was so good and they all fit their roles so well! So much respect goes out to Matt, Ryan, Sal, Lizz, Jason, Billy, Vincent, Lisa, Katie, Emily, Carly, Frankie, and Bridget because without their hardwork and dedication to the show, it wouldn’t have been so good!!

You could also tell how much effort was put into the details of the show like, nothing was there to just be there, everything had a purpose and there was never any weird “i dont have any lines so i’ll just awkwardly stand here” moments with any of the actors!! overall the show was  out of this world amazing and i’m so greatful that I had the chance to see it and meet the wonderful actors behind the original and the revival show!!!!

overall rating: hell yes/10

[asreoninfusion]

ALL THAT IS IS SO FRICKEN CUTE I LOVE IT. TELL ME MORE!! :D I WANT TO HAVE A FULL REPORT! XDD!!

Ahahahaha, okay. I’ll do one big explanation of everything that went down for you guys (as much as I can, I tried explaining it to my mum and she was very confused) and then I think it’ll be time for me to call it a day and stop harping on about the show stuff in general. ^^;; 

I do apologise for this slight deviation in content, we’ll be returning to your regularly scheduled FFVII blogging shortly. And I’ll keep all the youtube-related stuff on the sideblog I created just for that purpose, I don’t know why I’m so bad at keeping things where they’re meant to be.

Also this will probably get super long, so under the cut we go. (Also beware spoilers for the Markiplier show!!! If anyone’s worried about that.)

Hoo boy. Okay. Where do we start, howmuch detail do you want? xD Are we talking just the going on stage part all thewhole evening?

(I’m going to go for mainly just the on stage part because I’ve left it very late alreadyfor answering this and I need to sleep. >>)

But!! The day was pretty hectic cause Ihad 9am to 2pm straight lectures and labs, and then took a taxi straight to thestation and left for Nottingham then, which meant I had to do my lab in mypoofy dress. xD So that was amusing to start with.

Got to Nottingham, checked into my hotel(such a sweet glory to have a proper hotel room all to myself compared to thehostel I had for Manchester, aaahh), then went pretty much straight to thevenue from there after dumping all my stuff.

I was weak and bought too much merch. I’dalready bought one of the beanies in London, so I thought this time I’d justbuy a sticker set and some badges, that’s pretty cheap right? Well, yes. Thosewere. Until I stood in the queue for too long looking at the merch and beingmore and more tempted by one of the hoodies. I didn’t buy it originally, butthen I gave in and went back for it because I have no self-control lol.

There was the VIP section! Mark’s beenill for like, most of the tour thus far, and for a while his voice was totallygone. Poor dude. Normally he sings in the VIP section, and he did most of hissongs for the Nottingham one. I posted a video of a section of one!! There wereone or two songs he didn’t do because his range wasn’t back up to 100% justyet, but that just meant we got a bit longer for Q&A stuff.

(Uuugh every time I see how far he’s comemusically it reminds me how much I love singing to myself and writing dumbsongs and I want to do things too. ;^; It was a fit of inspiration afterwatching Mark before that led to me buying my whole mic set up I have.)

So then there’s a break between the VIPpre-show and the main show while everyone else comes in and I hung aroundsinging obnoxiously to myself the whole time because Mark put in the mood forsinging oops.

Then the main show!! The way the show is structured is that it’sthe same games and stuff each time, but there’s three different themes thatthey can go with for the show, and the theme is determined at the start. Themethod of determination is that there’s cases you have to pick from, kind of like a deal or nodeal style. Mark and Bob chose a case each (marking their choices with a redor green sticky respectively), and then the audience had to decide who theyagree with via the application of these coloured paddles they give out wheneveryone’s entering the theatre; hold up the colour you want to vote for. Butthe boys are cheaty mc cheatfaces and will never go with what the audiencewants. xD They have to pick one person out of the audience to make the finaldecision. (That was me!!!)

Also the final decision is made by stabbingthe holder of the case you don’t want with a foam sword.

(We got the horror theme for theNottingham show. :D)

I chose Bob’s box and didn’t stab Tyler,so I got to sneak in a hug from him for that. x3 But I also got put in thepunishment corner for not listening to Mark (not complaining 👀). Regardless of the decision, the gag is that Bob decides totry and take over the show anyway by kidnapping Tyler. Ethan and Wade came inas the inept henchmen dressed in ridiculous costumes, and then it was Mark andI, armed with swords, against the others in a stupid slowmo staged sword fightand honestly idek it was the most fucking surreal thing I’ve ever done in my life.

(I found this photo on Twitter!! Creditto Craig Frewey for it.)

So that was how I ended up having a veryone-sided swordfight with a shark??? xD

Man, I hope there’s video of this becauseit’s REALLY HARD TO EXPLAIN WTF WAS EVEN HAPPENING.

Anyway, I rescued Tyler! But while I wasbusy slaying the shark and stealing the golden key of rescue, Bob went and tookMark hostage instead and then I had to choose between saving Tyler or savingMark. Like goddamn, stop giving me so many impossible choices. D:

I may have eeny meeny miny mo’d it.

(But tbh I did kind of want to save Markmore anyway I’m so sorry Tyler but if I had to pick a favourite…… anyway, Iscrewed Mark over earlier not choosing his case, so making it even? xD)

Also look at this fucking pouty babytrying to make me feel bad and convince me to save him.

(Photo from this photoset here, credit to @giggles3475​!)

You deserve only to be saved by atechnicality of eeny meeny miny mo, sir.

Anyway, since I saved Mark, I got to goon a ‘date’ with him; got invited for a candlelit dinner loooool. This is theonly date my aroace ass will accept, I’m good for life now. xD

((One day I want to have thisconversation:Someone: You’ve never had a relationship?You’ve never dated? :0Me: Well there was this one time I had a fakestage date with Markiplier…))

Anywho, the point of that is that it’s anopportunity for Mark to ask a bunch of questions(or Tyler in other cases if the poor sod who gets calledup to take part in this ridiculousness saves Tyler instead), because the next part of the show is that they make an improvisedmusical about that person’s life! ….and I have a fuckin’ weird life.

So Mark started asking me questions aboutwhat I did and stuff, what my poofy dress was all about (‘cause I’d dressed upin my pretty Lolita dress just because why not I never get the chance to dressup), it was all relatively normal at first.

Oh, and Mark asked me if I was seeing theshow with friends or family or anyone; I was just like “nope, I’m here alonelike a sad loser!” and apparently that’s the line that people liked ‘cause I’veseen it quoted somewhere in the tags and in the discord server I’m on inseparate incidences. xD (Mark’s reply was a highly cheerful “alone like a sadloser? Me too!” bless him.)

So it started off normal but then oncethe crocodiles came up… that just got even more surreal, ahahaha. I bet Mark’snever heard that one before. And I did the ‘born in England, moved toAustralia, moved back to England, moved to Australia, back to England again,and then we were in India for a while too…’ spiel that is the quickest way Ican summarise all the back and forth we’ve done. That got brought up in a song.In the most ridiculous way possible fuckin’ honestlyI was just crying over in my corner.

Tiny snippet of that:https://twitter.com/LilyRooney31/status/966821044739854336

And then my poor dear sister, I said shewas my favourite ‘cause she’s cute, she got a skit about her and somehow itended up in a song about pants??? xD Also my mum is apparently now a spy. Thesethings just happen.

There’s a bunch of footage starting fromthe end of the first musical bit and the whole of the second part here: https://www.pscp.tv/w/1djxXdaZXmjxZ

(In the very last few seconds of thatvideo in the side of the screen there’s a me!! I got to hug Mark!!)

I’m slightly worried though that everyonein the audience might think I was bullshitting about a lot of the stuff I said,like I was making stuff up to try and make myself seem cooler?? ‘Cause who the fuckhas crocodiles?? Apart from my freakin’ family. Honestly if I was gonna lie Iwould’ve made it more believable. xD

So, yeah!!! That was what I got to do onstage. I don’t think I embarrassed myself hideously at any point, probably someminor awkwards but I got through it okay. I’m just absolutely fucking kickingmyself now that I had the opportunity rightthere, but I was so worried about not messing it up and like, ‘performing’for the audience that I was hardly paying attention to Mark. There was just. Alot happening. @_@ I feel like I barely even looked him in the eye throughoutit ‘cause I was like what the fuck do I focus on should I try to talk to theaudience so they can see what’s happening? (‘Cause during the sitting downtalking thing if I’d turned to look at Mark properly my back would’ve beentowards the audience, and that seemed rude to them then, so I ended up with akind of sideways thing looking at neither. orz) I feel like I was up there onstage with Mark, but I never talked tohim, if that makes sense?

I really want to find more videos andphotos of my part because it’s still so surreal I’m like wait what did thateven really happen??? I did give my email address to someone who said they hadvideo of the date section so I’m really looking forward to that, and I knowsomeone else has photos, so it should be all good on that front! I needevidence that it wasn’t all just a weird fever dream. I mean. I did have aswordfight with a shark so the fever dream thing is always a possibility.

But anyway. xD That was only the firstpart of the whole show!! I’ve already written and entire damn essay trying toexplain how things went down, so I’m not going to expand on all the otherimprov games they played, but it was a really good time watching the rest of ittoo, and then hanging with people outside, and getting Taco Bell on the wayback to the hotel.

I did not get nearly enough sleep becausehow the heck could I sleep after that I was too pumped, I didn’t fall asleepuntil like three in the morning. And now it’s 1am again ‘cause I spent waaaaaytoo long typing this up, and I reallyneed the sleep, so.

If anyone actually read all that, Isalute you, and also dear god what are you doing with your life.

Lol, but thanks for asking about itAisha! :D

[lovestruckedvang]

Calls and Boys.

I was never a big fan of calling over the cellphones, more holding a conversation to be all honest. Something about stalling and not making conversations always made me feel uneasy on a phone, the holding onto the cellphone and feeling the phone overheating due to my warmth pressed up against it. But I always seemed alright just over the computer. If it was strictly just the voice, the better, I wouldn’t have to worry about how I looked during my daily activities. Like if I wanna pick my booger, I will god damn pry that dried up snot monster out because it won't let me breathe. Or when I am eating ramen noodles, I slurp it up, its the best feeling but I feel like that I am silently judged. 

With him though, I do not really feel judged or worry about these things. We mostly talk, hardly video, which is great because my reactions are something too much. Like the time I got spooked over loud sounds, imagine my face every single time something scares me. Plus I feel more at ease because I don’t feel like I’m merely shy throughout our conversations and complimented as often. I honestly liked to be seen passed those visual aspects. I'm a simple girl who likes simple things. Personality is a big thing in my world because personality is the only attribute that lasts a lifetime, along with honesty. Looks and sounds alter throughout years, money depletes, and sex...well I’m sure that gets boring.

Since I met him, even as a friend...he cared. I reread our old conversations from time to time, and thinking to myself ‘Wow, he really never changed after all this time really.’ Randomly my heart swells up and I tear up, I might have always been negative towards guys and how they felt towards me.Yet every obstacle that we encountered, he has always chosen me. That is all I wanted, I didn’t care what it was about. That is why I felt so safe with him, at first the hesitation clouded it because with everything in the past. I felt these empty promises, 2nd best or disposable feeling.  

My first was not the ideal boyfriend so to speak, most fucked up an emotional relationship by far. He didn’t ask me out in a cute way or anything. He was DARED to ask me out and I said sure. This was my 7th grade, so peer pressure was all I was put on for most of my actions. My neighborhood was pretty much white rich folks, and you had to fit in if you wanted to survive. So I went along with the groups and I turned out pretty fine. Well better, I wasn’t a timid bitch about to take any shit from assholes. I guess this was when I built a backbone.  I didn’t have my first kiss, it wasn’t cute. Me being inexperienced about anything, I just went in and skipped to a make out. He was emotionally unstable, pretty much your typical emo skater dude who cried over anything. When I said I learned to have a backbone was after all the shit I put up with. He forced a lot on me, I was a kid, I didn’t know better. When we had our last fight, he went at tried to cheat on me. The girl later became one of my good friends after the breakup. He called me a bitch for just not taking him back, he harassed me since we were neighbors. Freshman year, I eventually snapped. I stood up, told him to fuck off, I didn’t want him and I didn’t care what happens anymore. I remember that was the first time my saliva tasted like acid with my fighting words. He backed off, I moved on. He, well he talked shit behind my back because he said I was stealing his friends. But it's not my fault people enjoyed my company more than his, but I didn’t harass him like he did to me. I kept distanced and became a social butterfly and avoided his path. After high school I learned a lot, he was having a sex change and said since he was 14 that he didn’t feel right. Soooooo, I guess I'm to blame? I dunno to be honest but that is what our friends suggested. I’m glad he is out of my life

 The second one was just a manwhore to me. He flirted with multiple of girls and kissed me while I was flustered in class. I was not aware he dated my best friend at the time for a week, so when she found out she was okay with it but I felt sorta awkward after knowing. He wrote me notes, I kept most of them and he kept plenty of mine. He was the first guy I called over the phone and we just enjoyed the quiet times we had together. I guess we were never really in love due to how things turned out. I tried my best, but I guess he wanted more or a past he never could let go. With a relationship built like a switch after a year, I guess I should have noticed but his family always lured me back. And I tried my best to be good enough but I wasn’t for him. He first broke up with me for the fact he was going to move, second time was because we weren’t going to have enough time together and third time....well he fucking quoted ‘Scott Pilgrim’  (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Vl5JK3L_OQ ) then later texted me an official break up while I was watching New Moon with my mom, she was disgusted and it perked me up her reaction to the movie. After we moved on, he dated my best friend, the one he dated before me and she broke up with him. Gosh after that we burned him at every chance we could because god did we hate him. Junior year he dated my other best friend, the one who helped me throughout my whole break up and I even went to her church event, we had the closes bond. I warned her about him and the rumors that circulated around the school. I grew tired of him being near me and our friendship dissolved, my choice though. She was innocent and I wanted him to stay away. After high school, they got engaged but I still hear the drama from time to time, I unfriended her till recently. We don’t talk much but I miss her a lot, he is still a scumbag of a loser tbh. 

Third one felt like the real charm, he was a gentleman with me. He was patient with me, we were in love and always together for 4 years. We planned a future and were set on each other. What changed? Distance, it showed our true colors and depression. He tried to maintain contact with me. It worked out almost. But he couldn’t hold up his promises which bothered me a lot after 5 years. Then he started to make a big deal about his issues. Mind you, my issues were greater. His issues were school and how he was being teased, this was since we started dating till we broke up so a total of 5 years. Mine? My best friend committed suicide, a few other died around the same time from crashes, drugs or suicide within a few months. I cut any possible future with him when he wanted to commit suicide, right after I told him my mother had cancer. I was a complete mess, what I knew as my safe haven was now just a thorn. I tried pushing him away from my life 3 times. Things got better for both of us, he got a good job and had his dog making him feel better. My mom survived cancer and I had others to vent to. He was one of the few people I trusted and maintained a friendship with me. (next paragraph to follow the order timeline) He is still my best friend after all the shit, even after that and being put on the side for a thot. I told him how I really felt, I drank and smoked to feel less. I felt betrayed for a girl who gave him pussy over our friendship. I almost had him out of my life, I just forgot to block him from the last form of contact. When they were over, he told me I was right, he told me he won't put me on the side again. But mind you, I hold on to all the negative shit till this day. So I told him to accept my friendship, he must endure my punishment. Me hating on him and not expecting more from me. He did, he spoiled me with gifts and food, I warned him he couldn’t get back with me so he could stop it. He kept going. Recently we keep in touch, he visits me from time to time. We are really each other's best friends due to all the shit went through, but I wouldn’t be surprised him leaving or such. I just know he is someone who is willing to help me out regardless. I would literally be his sister but I won’t call him my brother due to having dated him. My current boyfriend doesn’t like him at all, well is vice-versa really. I also recently helped him out with his new girlfriend, I supported him and pushed him to muster up the courage to make a move, even helped him picked gifts for her and her sister. I wish him the best of luck with his future.

I would like to add a somewhat fourth boyfriend. We were friends for years while I was having my issues with my life he was there for me. He wasn’t totally always there emotionally, but he was very caring. I made a huge step, visited him and we spent 12 days together. I asked him to ask me out only if he was ready for it. His biggest mistake would have been that. After I left, he became distant with me, I assumed this was typical. Yet became irritable with the distanced, I tried fixing it but he just was upset. Eventually, I ended it after 3 months. I placed a big distanced between us, I forced myself to move on. I guess this where I stopped falling for others and held myself back. Now he has moved on with someone near, honestly, I think he deserves better but that is my opinion. We don’t talk at all unless it correlates with our gaming.

Those tinder dates really did a number though and coworkers. I was pretty much numbed up and accepted on just being alone. Those adventures were pretty much a joke. Mentally I was pretty fucked up at times but I calmed down after a while. When the ugly reality hit me, shit I just stopped wasting my time and money as those people. People wondered why I did not want to be their girlfriend. Because I was afraid of those previous situations repeating, so if I didn’t see a future or felt safe, I wasn’t considering. Sometimes things they say will be held against them and I instantly don’t want them. But not all the tinder people are really bad, I found a few and are really good friends with me. Tinder for me is not a dating app for me, it is a trolling app now.

My now unofficial boyfriend, Has basically done above and beyond. I met him in person, we aren’t distanced, he is a gentleman, he isn’t fucked up in the brain at all. He is not going to ask me out till we are ready, but we are like 500% hooked on each other so that is why I call him my boyfriend....that and he started calling me that. We have a future we want to achieve together. He doesn’t make me want to feel better off alone. He is really my skies and beyond. He says I'm his world. Finally, he isn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, he has proven that with time.

[smartsxylacyy]

THE FLUFFY BOWL CUT YAYAYAYA AHHH

Oh, it is OVER for the Wheeler Siblings