#gimme some truth book | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valeffelees · 2 months

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Oh do tell about that snowbaz au of yours 👀

I WOULD FUCKING LOVE TO, thank you so much tumblr user pidgelikethebird (and also my most beloved and loyal companion @drowninginships) for providing me the enrichment i need to survive the winter.

ok gimme a min here to turn my thoughts into comprehensible words. i'm gonna say right now: this post is gonna be a LONG one, but 10 out of 10 scientists agree you should read to the end.

so, if you didn't know, The Beauty Inside is a Korean romcom from 2015, based off an American short film of the same name; the orig short film i linked is an extremely quick watch (only 6 episodes, each one 4-10 minutes long) and i would absolutely recommend it, but the very basics of the premise is that: a man wakes up in his bed on his 18th birthday to find he's in a completely different body than his own, and every day since then, he wakes up as somebody new.

AND OBVS I JUST HAD TO FUCKING SNOWBAZ THAT, which is how my AU, titled In the Many Ways of Loving You, was born:

Simon Snow wakes up every day as somebody new; the only person who knows the truth is Penny, his best friend and roommate, since she's been by his side since it all began ten years ago.

he works on commission as a custom bookbinder—like, he has an Etsy or some shit, i dunno, some kinda online shop where people can commission him in a variety of ways to rebind their favourite books, either by paying extra for Simon to buy the book himself and rebind it from new and send it to them, or sometimes collectors will send their personal copies to him to have him rebind them, and he's very good at it, and N E WAY the point of this is that he has a small bookshop he's been going to regularly for the last eight or so years, because it's close to his and Penny's flat, and where the story begins: Baz is a new employee that just started working there about two weeks ago and Simon has a massive crush on him.

ok, now. day one: when we meet Simon for the first time, he wakes up and he's lovely and blonde and brown-eyed and ok, yeah, i've just made him look like Agatha bc i thought it'd be kinda funny, esp since Agatha's not actually in the fic otherwise.

and Simon has to pick up a copy of some random book from the bookshop today bc someone bought a custom binding of it, so he goes down and, as usual, since it's his job, Baz has to come over to talk to him and is like, "hey, can I help you with anything?" and Simon doesn't need any help bc he's been coming to this shop for years, but every time Baz asks he says yes bc he wants the excuse to talk to him, and on this day Simon is like, wait. i'm so hot rn. so he asks Baz out—

and Baz is like [finger guns] absolutely not.

and Simon is like 👁️👄👁️ welp i'm in fucking agony.

but whatever, fine. a guy like Baz is prolly already in a proper relationship, and it's always a bad idea for Simon to get involved with someone he has to see on the reg. he had to start going to a different coffee shop that's twenty minutes out of his way bc he went out on a great date with one of the baristas at his old spot and then obvs couldn't go out again after just that one time, and it made him super emo, so really, Baz saying no was prolly for the best.

TIMESKIP, it's been a few days and Simon has to go down to the bookshop again. but this time he's a bloke. and so Baz comes up to ask if Simon needs help and he says yeah, as usual, and the two of them end up having a bantery convo about the book Simon's looking for bc they've both read it and Baz hated it, but Simon loved it, and it's just very cute and casual, and then Baz is like. so, my shift ends in liiike... four hours. are you doing anything?

and Simon is like. OH. OH!!!

that whole "it's prolly for the best" thing? yeah, fuck that, that was Simon of the past, he doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about bc cute bookshop guy wants to hang out and so they go out and have the most fucking insane romcom date ever.

'cause you gotta remember, Simon only gets one real day with people, so he doesn't do like casual coffee dates or movies or whatever. they go out and like fucking B&E a museum after hours bc Simon knows someone like the janitor or something (i dunno) leaves one of the back doors unlocked so he can step out for a cig every few hours, so they sneak in and have the time of their life running around looking at art while trying not to get caught, and we're going to use the suspended disbelief bestowed upon us by the power of romcoms to pretend security cameras aren't a thing, and it is BRILLIANT. like, Simon and Baz have so much chemistry, and when the night ends Baz is just like all smiles and creased eyes and messy black hair and, breathlessly: "I want to see you again."

and Simon's heart drops. because he wants to see Baz again, too, but he can't. no matter how much he wants to, he can't. when he wakes up tomorrow he's going to be someone new, so he can't, he can't, he can't, he—

"Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow?"

SIMON NO!!!

"It's a date."

FUCK!!!

ok, so now we have a problem. Simon can't just stand him up, i mean he could but he doesn't want to, and he really does want to see him again, so he does the only thing he can think of: he stays awake. all fucking night.

Baz, the next day: "You look exhausted."

Simon, wired asf on caffeine and trying to be smooth: "Had someone on my mind all night."

and then they go have another wicked date, but i have nothing in my notes about what it is. oh, i have them living in Canada in this fic btw bc as a rule, if a fic doesn't have to be set in England, i move them to Canada for comfort. so i might have them go cliff jumping or something? who knows. we'll go with that for now.

cue the romcom montage.

[mother tongue starts playing SO DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME FALA AMO, JUST LET YOUR HEART SPEAK UP AND I'LL KNOW]

ok. post-date. Simon is so dumb and infatuated with Baz and does something only a boy who is dumb and infatuated and sleep-deprived would do in his situation, and he goes back to Baz's flat with him to "watch a movie", or in other words: the movie starts and then they prolly have sex, but in my notes this is written as "??? smash ???" so i guess it's kinda up in the air.

either way, Simon passes the fuck out at Baz's place bc he was properly exhausted by that point, and he wakes up to Baz screaming at him bc obvs he looks like a different person now.

Simon, half-asleep: [PANICKED FLAILING] BAZ IT'S ME!!! STOP THROWING THINGS!!! BAZ!!! IT'S ME, IT'S SIMON!!!

and Baz is like: WHAT THE FUCK

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN

and Baz is like: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE

and Simon is like: I CAN EXPLAIN!!!

so, here's a detail from the orig film that comes into play here: in the orig movie, the MC keeps a video diary, logging every day what his face looks like, and in this, Simon does this on his phone and backs them up to his computer every hundred days, so he gives Baz his phone and tells him the whole story while Baz scrolls through these short like minute long videos of Simon on various days going, "Hey, this is me today. I have [this and such] thing to do, blah blah blah."

and the thing is, Baz recognises him in some of them. bc Simon is always coming into the bookshop. he stops watching when he gets to the day Simon looked like Agatha, and Simon has been quiet for a while at this point, just letting Baz process.

Baz: "I want you to leave."

Simon takes his phone without a word and goes. Penny picks him up on the corner a block over and drives him back to their flat. she doesn't ask what happened. she already has a pretty good idea.

when Simon's next commission comes in, he thinks about going to another bookshop, he really does. but this one is so convenient, esp since Simon can't drive bc he can't risk getting pulled over carrying a licence that doesn't have his face on it, and he's been going there for eight years and it's not like Baz will recognise him anyway.

so, to the bookshop he goes, but this time when Baz comes up to ask if he needs help, Simon is like, "haha, no that's okay," and goes back to looking for things on his own, and Baz kinda lingers awkwardly for a moment before going on his way, but then when Simon comes up to the till to pay for the book, Baz just stands there staring at him. and Simon is so uncomfortable, like, he just wants to leave—

"Simon?"

SORRY, YOU WHAT?

"What?" Simon gapes at him. "How did— how did you? But I'm—"

"Can we talk?" Baz asks.

"How did you know it was—"

Baz shouts over to the other employee on the floor that he's taking his lunch break, and Simon just slowly follows him out of the shop with the book forgotten, unpaid for, at the check-out.

and here's the deal, Baz liked Simon a stupid amount considering they'd only gone on two dates, but they were good dates, and Baz doesn't date much, so he's a bit hung up on just how much he liked Simon and the weird way shit ended, so he's basically like. i want to see it again. and Simon is like, see what? and Baz is like, you. the... whatever that you do, i want to see you change.

and that's how Simon ends up bringing Baz back to his flat, and btw: Simon has a rule about never bringing people back to his flat bc it's weird as fuck. his room is really tiny, and it's cluttered as fuck in a Howl's bedroom type way. he keeps to the same cheap, casual style for all his clothes, but he needs things in a bunch of sizes. shoes are a nightmare. he has to take care of his hair in a million different fucking ways. so he has the lives of a dozen people shoved into a room the size of a shoebox, and his mattress has no frame. that shit is just on the floor, so it takes up less space. and there's this mirror, a wide full bodied mirror, propped up against the wall facing the bed, so that the first thing Simon can do each day is roll over and look at himself.

Simon and Baz have supper together, they talk, they pretend this isn't weird as fuck and, even though it is weird as fuck, they still have so much chemistry, and this is a fanfic, so they just end up having sex again but it's supposed to be kinda emo and tender and look, it's what my heart wants, ok?

morning comes. Simon wakes to Baz's hands on his face. which is already and improvement compared to last time. Baz is looking at him very seriously, but also very like. softly. he's touching Simon's features, tracing them, and Simon is quiet for a very long time, watching him do this, until he's just like. what are you doing.

Baz: "Getting to know you." A pause. "Why does it happen?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz: "Are there other people like you?"

Simon: "I don't know."

Baz, sighing: "Well, what do you know?"

Simon: "That I'm still me. Inside, I mean. Like... if you had a book, and every day you gave it a new cover, the story wouldn't change."

Baz: "You must get lost on a lot of shelves."

Simon: "Yeah."

and from there, Baz is just a part of Simon's life the same way Penny is, he knows the truth, and he deals with it. for the first time in Simon's adult life, he gets to really date. he and Baz do a bunch of domestic shit together, for months, and it's so good. all of it is so good, all the time, and they fall so fucked up deep in love with each other.

(detail from this point that is relevant later: Baz and Simon make a game out of Baz recognising Simon at work on days when he hasn't seen yet what he looks like. Simon will come in and try to act like a stranger, but Baz can Where's Waldo him every time.)

but then Christmas comes. and Baz has to go home to see his family. and i don't have an exact idea of how this convo goes, only that it is not a fight of any kind, like, it is a normal convo about the holidays but Baz apologises to Simon during it for not telling his family about him, he says they'd want Baz to bring Simon home if he did (bc i just don't wanna fuck with homophobia in this so we've shot Malcolm with the ally beam) and he wouldn't know how to explain Simon's whole... thing to them, and Simon kinda realises that like. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz can bring home to his family. he can't ever be the type of boyfriend Baz gets to have a normal life with.

SO SIMON GHOSTS HIM.

like, Baz comes back from his family's place, annoyed that Simon hasn't returned any of his texts or calls, only to find that Simon and Penny have literally fucking moved flats in the two weeks he's been gone. and obvs he's fucking devastated and confused by this and desperately trying to get Simon to respond to him, but he won't.

Simon goes out of his way to find a new bookshop to go to, and that's the end of things for about a week or so, and i haven't actually decided what happens here exactly, but the general idea i wanna go with is that Simon goes to the bookshop Baz works at just for the sake of seeing him, checking up on him, bc he misses him.

but remember that game they played? so yeah, Baz walks up to say his usual like, "hey, can I help you find anything?" but he fucking clocks Simon after like ten seconds.

scene change: they're in Simon's new flat, like maybe Baz demanded that if Simon is going to break up with him he owes it to him to do it goddamn properly, but i dunno. details, details. but they end up getting in a huge fucking fight and Simon reveals the reason he ghosted Baz was bc he realised Baz can't have a real life with him and Baz is like:

"You don't get to decide that for me! You're still you, you're still lovely—"

"You don't even know what I look like!"

"I don't care what you look like, you fucking moron, I care that you're Simon Snow! There's a person inside you that exists every day, even when everything else changes, and he's lovely. I love him. The rest doesn't matter, how can you not see that? Stop telling me I'm not allowed to love you however you are, I'll love you a hundred different ways, Simon. Any size, any shape. I'll love you over, and over, and over. That's a life for me. A real life for me. You!"

and then Simon throws his arms around Baz's neck and hugs him like he needs him to breathe and Baz clings to his shirt and they're both prolly crying all loud and gross, but it's fine. they're gonna be fine.

the next day: Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck. "Like this one, then?" he says.

"Loveliest yet." Baz brushes his knuckles over the slope of Simon's shoulder. "Freckles, curls, broad shoulders... Mmm, maybe we should stay in bed today."

Simon laughs and rolls over to pin Baz to the mattress, grinning at him. he goes to say something, prolly rib at him the way they do, but as he does he catches his reflection in that mirror he keeps by his bed and he freezes.

"Holy shit!" he shouts, and shoves himself up onto his knees. "That's me!"

Baz rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I told you—"

Simon shakes his head furiously. "No, it's. Baz. I'm. Jesus fucking Christ, that's me. Baz, that's me."

Baz sits up slowly. "Do you mean—"

"Fuck, holy shit!" Simon grabs his curls with both hands. he hasn't touched these curls in ten fucking years. he looks older than he remembers himself, which is a given, but it's definitely him. his father's eyes, his mother's chin. the moles on his cheek, above his eyebrow, below his ear.

Simon freaks out in a way that kinda toes the line between being happy and being a breakdown, he throws himself at Baz, and they both fall back onto the bed and Simon is laughing and he's shaking and he doesn't understand, he doesn't get it, but holy fuck, he has his own face, he has his own body, he has his own hands. Baz pushes them apart so he can get a look at him, and Simon is actually kinda self-conscious when he does, which is a new feeling. he never has to feel self-conscious about anything, usually, since he knows every flaw or insecurity isn't really his, and will be gone the next day, but this is just... him.

Baz takes Simon's face in his hands and then, breathlessly, "Hello, Simon Snow."

AND THEN THEY KISS bc what else would they do here.

and uhh, yeah. so. Simon goes out to the kitchen where Penny is making breakfast and she loses her shit when she sees him. big hugs all around. Baz really does take the day off work to spend it with Simon, even though that just means lying around on the sofa watching movies while Simon works on his current rebinding commission. when Penny gets home that evening, they order takeaway and sit around the lounge room playing boardgames together until late, late, late into the night. Penny falls asleep in the armchair, and now it's 3-am.

Simon is tired. he's looking at the clock, sitting with his knees up and his arms around them, with Baz beside him. Baz has his forehead on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. he doesn't want to go to bed, because what if... what if it was only for today. how long will it be until the next time? what if there is no next time, what if, what if—

"We'll still be here," Baz whispers, exhausted. "And you'll still be you. No matter what, Simon."

and so they go to bed.

Simon wakes up to Baz's mouth on the back of his neck.

"Good morning, Simon Snow."

AND YEAH, that is the entire plot of my The Beauty Inside AU.

i told you this was gonna be a long one, but if you've made it all the way to the end of this mess, thank you kindly again for indulging me!

#ngl i wanted to sign up for the cobb with this fic idea really bad but at the time i wasnt confident i could manage #taking part in a fandom event. i might think about signing up for it next year if it runs again but who knows #thanks for hanging out!#snowbaz #ask #pidgelikethebird

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reflectismo · 1 year

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So you mean to tell me that every song in the Gimme Some Truth Deluxe Book is accompanied by commentary on its inception, instruments used and musicians who played on the track and then you get to I Know (I Know) and they decide to forgo all of that and end up just including quotes from John about missing England, Paul, old friends, about trying to talk to each other after not seeing each other and having a hard time signing the Beatles dissolution papers?

The jig is UP.

#John Lennon #The Lennon Estate #The Beatles #(I mean the I got a feeling riff at the beginning was enough but now they’re just confirming it)#(Someone get me the Lennon Estate I just want to talk…)#(I Know I Know)

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Plead the Fifth

Summary: A little white lie lands you in hot water with your husband. Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Cursing, Spanking, Light Fingering, Light Smut, Spiders, Marital Threats, Minors DNI

A/N: This is one of the stories I wrote in treatment. I hope you enjoy. Part of my Growing Pains Series. I look forward to everyone's feedback if you feel like giving it. All mistakes are my own.

___

You’re in the middle of moving clothes from the washer to the dryer when you feel two brawny arms wrap themselves around your waist. God, your husband always smelled so good. Smiling, you pause your work so you can relax and rest your head against his chest.

“Well hello there, Mr. Barber.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Barber.” He whispers, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“You missed bedtime. I had to promise the kiddos that you’d read them two books each tomorrow to make up for not being able to tuck them in tonight. And trust me when I say that our little monsters are gonna hold you to it.” Turning yourself in his arms, you go to place your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Good deal.” Andy responds as he leans down to sweetly peck your mouth, which only serves to make you pout. You wanted more from your man, needed it even.

“Hey!” You playfully tug on the front of his shirt. “Gimme more kisses, damn it.” Instead of doing as you ask, his thumb goes to caress your lower lip.

“In a moment, baby. But first I need to know something.” His big hand moves to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it, Big Man?”

“Lying to me.” Your eyes fly open at his words.

“Whaa –? I didn’t lie to you!”

“Oh yeah?” You suddenly find yourself pinned against a nearby wall. “Then how about you go and grab the receipt from Monday’s visit to the dealership. You know, the one with a detailed printout of all the maintenance performed on your car. I’ll wait right here for you, sweetheart.”

You stare him down as your mind works overtime to conjure up some kind of plausible excuse to buy yourself some time. “Um, I’m not really sure what I did with it, but I bet I can call and have them, like, email me a copy or something…”

“Really, baby girl? Another lie?” Andy asks through narrowed eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Look, I know it’s been a while, but you can’t have forgotten the consequences for lying to Daddy like this.” His sharp teeth go to nip at your pulse point as a hand trails its way down your spine to grab a healthy chunk of your ass.

Aww shit.

“So let’s try this again, shall we? Or do I need to play the voicemail I received from Jared at Newsome Lexus?” His other hand holds up his phone.

Fuck! You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t forgotten to call them back and reschedule your appointment when you’d decided to ditch your responsibilities.

“I plead the fifth.” You mutter.

“I’m afraid pleading the fifth isn’t an option in Andy’s Barber’s court, little girl. Now, either go get the paperwork or tell me the truth. And fair warning, Y/N, I’ve had a long day so the longer you keep this up, the shorter my patience gets.” Your husband gruffly informs you.

“Argh! Fine!” You huff. “I canceled the appointment the other day because I needed some “me time”, okay?” Andy’s blue gaze strays to mouth as the words leave your lips.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” You shove at his chest. He grunts before grabbing your hands and holding them above your head, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes.

“That wasn’t very nice, baby. Now, explain.”

“Oh my God, Andy! I’ll reschedule the appointment, I swear!” You whine. All you wanted to do was finish this load of laundry and maybe watch a movie, preferably with your husband.

Assuming his grumpy ass was amenable to the idea. But with the way he was looking at you know, you were leaning towards probably not.

“You’re damned right you will. Because when I last looked, your check engine light was on, you probably need at least two new tires, and you’re past due for an oil change. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes.” You respond, feeling agitated, which prompts the big man in front of you to raise one impatient brow.

“Yes what, Y/N?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You grumble, knowing full well what was coming next.

“Good girl.” Andy leans down to peck your lips again. “Finish up here and then meet me in my study so that we can finish this conversation. Please don’t keep me waiting.” And with that, he turns and disappears from sight.

Great. You think to yourself. Just fucking great.

Wanting to get the whole thing over with, you hurriedly throw the rest of the clothes in the dryer before following your husband down the hall, pausing once you’re standing outside his door.

“Come on in, Y/N.” He says when he notices you hovering. “Don’t be shy, baby girl. You know how this works with Daddy.”

Yes, you did. After almost fifteen years together you knew exactly how all this worked.

Nodding, you shut the door while Andy moves to pour himself a glass of scotch. And then you turn the lock so as to ensure that you would not be disturbed. Nodding, he takes a sip of his drink before motioning for you to turn and strip.

“I want you naked. After the day I’ve had, I think I deserve to look at a little beauty. Don’t you agree, sweet girl?” You suppress a shiver at his deep baritone.

Giving him your back, you pull off your shirt and sports bra before bending at the waist to bare your ass and slightly quivering pussy to your man’s heated gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby.” Andy rasps, his intoxicating blue eyes unabashedly roving over every inch of your body. “Now c’mere. Come to Daddy.” He takes another sip of his bourbon and pats his lap.

“Can’t we please just skip this part and discuss it?”

“We can discuss this all you want once you’re over my knee. I can’t wait to hear all about my naughty little wife’s trip to the movies.”

You’re just about to get into position when his words register in your brain. “Wait. How did you know that I –”

“That you went to the movies instead of taking the car in for maintenance? I saw the charge when I was reviewing the Discover Card statement.” Your husband winks at you and then proceeds to tug you down so that you’re finally laying across his lap, his hard cock resting firmly against your belly. “What’d you go see?” He asks as one of his large hands begins to caress your curves.

“On the Devil’s Doorstep.” You reply, silently wishing that he would just get on with it.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Your “me time”, I mean. Because you deserved it.”

Huh?

“I know how hard you work, taking care of me and the kids and the house. And then there’s the PTA and soccer practices, the freelancing when you can, and a ton of other shit. I see you, Y/N, and I’m grateful, but I can’t abide by the lying. So, you’re going to count these out for me and then tomorrow you and I are going to drop your car off at the shop. And –”

“But the kids –”

“Baby girl, I wasn’t finished.” Your upturned ass receives a sharp smack. “As I was saying, we’re taking the car to the shop, the kids are going to grandma’s, and when we’re through, you and I are gonna grab a bite to eat followed by a couple’s massage at The Lotus Flower.”

“But I thought I was in trouble?” One of your man’s talented hands slips between your thighs to briefly toy with your pussy. His fingers strum over your aching clit with expert precision, making you squirm.

“Oh, you are. But not because you went to the movies. You’re in trouble because you lied to me about the car. And that’s a big “no no”.” You can’t help but let out a whine when removes his fingers all together. Andy lets out a soft groan as he sucks the wet digits into his mouth. “So, you’re going to count these out for me, all twenty of ‘em. Miss one and I start over, you understand me little girl?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I – ouch!”

Smack!

Andy’s hard palm comes down hard three times on your unprotected bottom.

“I mean yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl for you and count, okay?”

And when you were through here, you were gonna dig out that bag of plastic spiders you’d been saving for Halloween and dump them all over his side of the bed. Your man’s panicked screams wouldn’t take the sting out of your ass, but they would make your soul smile.

“I’m glad. But you know, something is telling me that I might need to go back to spanking you more often, you cheeky little brat. What do you think?” He asks as he gently rubs your heated backside.

Spiders. All of the spiders were coming for Andrew Barber.

“No, thank you, Sir.”

“Alright, well, let’s see how well you take your punishment, hmm?”

Smack!

“Ungh! One!”

Another slap.

“Oooh! Two!” You feel your legs kick out.

One more smack. And then another.

“Three!” Aww fuck! “Four!” You eek out through gritted teeth.

“Ow! Ow! Five!”

“There we go, baby girl. Keep counting nice and loud for me.”

“Shit! Six!” You can feel the tears burning behind your eyes as they threaten to spill over.

Crack! Smack! Slap!

Yep. When this was all said and done, you were going to run to the nearest party supply store and buy every kind of fake spider they had. Then you’d hide them around the house so you could guarantee that your man would have a tiny heart attack everyday for the rest of the month. Fucking heavy handed, overbearing ogre.

Smack!

“Ten!”

Oh, yes. Spiders. All of the spiders were coming for Andrew Barber.

END

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steddiebang · 8 months

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The World Ends With You

Author: @lihhelsing l Artist: @keikei_firefly l Artist: @verdiris Posting on Thursday, November 30

After the world ended and the undead creatures were everywhere, Steve Harrington survived by isolating himself. Completely alone in a house, he barely knows what to do when someone breaks in. Injured and alone, Eddie Munson slowly wins Steve’s trust as they navigate surviving together in the middle of the Apocalypse and their relationship grows into something Steve can’t quite understand. But just as he has his share of secrets, Eddie has some of his own and this might be enough to get in the way of whatever they were building together.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

It took a bit of time for Eddie Munson to be on his feet.

Or maybe foot was more accurate. Steve was honestly shocked Eddie had been able to stand like that, let alone walk for who knew how long.

He would definitely need to take a closer look and he already knew he was completely out of his depth. He had seen broken bones and crushed limbs on his mother’s medical books but he never saw it in real life. That was still the best shot Eddie had so it would have to do.

Steve also knew what he was about to say was a douche thing, but one could never be too careful.

“I need you to strip down,” he said and there it was again, the weird sound Eddie made when he laughed. It ringed in Steve’s ears and tingled his brain.

“Woah, Harrington. Guy’s usually pay at least for a coffee first, but I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea,” Eddie answered easily, a grin splayed across his face. Steve stared and stared and he was afraid he was blushing but the dark should still conceal his face. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Deadly,” Steve added and let the word hang between them.

Death had taken a new meaning for Steve after everything. You didn’t just throw the word around like a joke anymore like ‘Oh I’m dying to eat chocolate muffins’. It felt especially disrespectful now that death walked the earth.

Eddie bit his lower lip like he was thinking about it.

“If you’re not going to strip I can show you the exit,”

“Harsh, man. It’s been a while since I’ve made a show of undressing in front of a guy. Gimme a minute, will you?”

When they were done Eddie did his bit cleaning everything up and they went into the living room. Eddie lay on the couch and pulled from under his pillow a hardcover book Steve had never seen before. He looked up at Steve and there was a glint in his eyes.

“I was just going to start this one and I thought I could… Nevermind, that’s stupid.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders and held the book close to his chest. He was, once again, shirtless. Steve had stayed awake too many nights watching the way Eddie’s pale skin glowed with the moonlight. He was shameless.

Steve leaned on the chair, his back already twisting in an unpleasant way.

“You could what?” He asked and Eddie pressed his lips together.

“I could read it for us. Out loud, I mean.”

Steve blinked, watching him as if Eddie had grown another head. He had never been one to read much, one of the many ways he disappointed his father. Steve found it was hard to concentrate on a book for too long but he always liked when his mother read to him.

“Forget it,” Eddie said at the same time Steve said “Ok.”

“Yeah? You really want to? You’re not saying that just so you don’t hurt my feelings?”

Steve chuckled. “No. Maybe. A story seems nice, actually. What’s the book?”

Eddie turned it in Steve’s direction and he could barely see the name printed. The Picture of Dorian Gray.

“It’s one of my favorites of all time. There are so many things he says in this book that stuck with me. There’s so much truth and hurt inside of it.”

“Sounds nice,” Steve said, because it really did. “Can I… Do you mind if I lie next to you? That way I can hear you and you don’t have to shout.”

“Be my guest, Stevie. It will be just like a slumber party,” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and Steve rolled his eyes pretending to be annoyed. The truth was Steve’s hearing wasn’t the best, courtesy of years playing sports in high school and getting head injuries. He hadn’t admitted that to Eddie because he had never admitted it to anyone but Eddie seemed so excited about the book Steve didn’t really want to miss anything.

He put his pillow and some blankets on the floor and he lied, close enough he could touch Eddie if he just reached out his hand.

“Can I tell you one of my favorite quotes from this book?” Eddie asked and Steve just nodded. The moment felt charged as if Eddie was about to show his soul to Steve. “'Some things are more precious because they don’t last long'.”

Steve blinked. He looked up at Eddie and he wasn’t sure if that was just a nice citation or maybe a foreshadowing of them. He felt like they were living in a bubble that could burst at any moment and Steve wasn’t really ready for it. It seemed Eddie wasn’t ready either.

He had to fight the urge to argue about it. To say that some things lasted a long time and were precious and good. Instead, Steve put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He could feel Eddie was looking at him and he knew that was happening more and more, and every day they seemed to be less worried about not being caught.

Steve opened his eyes and there it was, those two brown eyes watching him curiously, as if Steve was a puzzle Eddie wanted to decipher. They held each other’s gaze for a minute before Eddie adjusted himself back on the couch and opened the book on the first line.

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfum of the pink-flowering thorn.”

Eddie’s voice was velvety and smooth as he dove into the book and soon Steve was deep down in the story, feeling how every word tickled his brain in a way reading a book had never managed to do to him. He fought sleep for as long as he could and when he finally lost the battle he dreamed of flower scented gardens, precious things and deep brown eyes.

Read more on November 30!

#steddiebang23 #steddiebang23 upcoming projects

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driftward · 9 months

Text

Title: FFXIV Write 2023 - 2. Bark Characters: Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Teen Summary: Thancred gets in some trouble. Y'shtola is less than sympathetic. From the time before the Sharlayan colony was abandoned. Notes: None

Y'shtola ignored the first knocks on the door to the atelier, instead preferring to continue to focus on her reading. A second knock came, and she ignored it as well. With the third, the pattern became unsteady, and she sighed, setting her book aside to go to answer the door.

Opening the door revealed a haggard looking Thancred leaning heavily against the door jam, his face sweaty and several welts on his arm. She felt her ears go back as she quickly stepped to the side, letting him stumble in.

"Hoy, Yashtola," he slurred.

She shut the door behind him and quickly stepped to the side with his good arm, taking it and steering him to one of the benches available in the room. "My goodness, Thancred, whatsoever happened to you - and why are you here instead of at the infirmary?"

He flashed her a grin that she knew he thought was charming and roguish. Normally she would roll her eyes at his sheer cheek, but instead she sat him down and began to rapidly unbutton his shirt, frowning.

"Ey now, I though' you weren' inerested," he teased. That earned him a glare, which he chuckled at.

"Nor am I now, but you seem to have dragged your sorry carcass into my care, and I cannot very well leave you out for carrion. 'Twould attract unseemly scavengers," she said, pulling his shirt off and crouching to look closely at his wounds.

Welts that were familiar to her.

"And you still have yet to answer my question," she said curtly.

"Ah, well, yannow... trainin'." he said with an easy shrug. "Can' all of us 'ave cushy work wit' books and frogs."

"Poroggos," she corrected idly, as she went to her bench. "What manner of training would have you down beneath the lochs? The narbrooi down there are not to be taken lightly."

"Aw, well, it hurts like a swivin'-"

"Language."

"...but it ain' so bad. I though' the trainin' mammets would be worse. See, I was supposed to sneak by them, get t' a cove, get my dibber-dabbers-"

"Proper words, if you kindly."

"Aw, I'm tryin' to tell ya why I'm so banged up, gimme some jack."

"You asked for my help. 'Tis no fault of mine that you chose my door over others," she said, as she began to pull down the ingredients she would need for the care Thancred required.

He shifted uncomfortably on the seat as he watched for a moment. "Whatchu doin', anyroad?"

"You will need a poultice, as well as an antivenom. The nettles of the narbrooi are not immediately dangerous alone, but I will need to nullify their venom before I attempt conjury. And you shall suffer other deleterious effects from if it your wounds are not treated properly." She looked over at him. "It is good that you came quickly. We may yet stave off infection."

He flashed her a grin. "Well there's half your answer right there then, innit? I can' trust the infirmary to have gotten to me any faster, seein' as I'm, well," he trailed off, his smile faltering slightly.

Y'shtola nodded, understandingly. It was not all that very long ago that she held views not all that different from her countrymen, judging others by where they came rather than from the truth of who they were.

A chance encounter had taught her otherwise. And so while others had been cold to Louisoix's latest, she had taken care to welcome him.

Even if he was often vexing.

"I understand. Here. Drink this. It will soothe your aches while I prepare other alchemies."

He took the bottle from her and looked at it, before downing it, making a face as he did so. "Ugh. What's in this swill?"

"Chanterelle - that is a local mushroom - and mistletoe, in a solution of distillate. That will keep the edge off. Now. As you were saying?"

"...trainin', that's what I was gettin' at. They set up some trainin' mammets down 'neath the locks, want me to swipe some mushrooms withou' bein' noticed. Thought one of them had me near made, so I did a little duck an' dive over a ledge, and found a few o' them sharp fellows. Hey," he asked, craning his neck to try and watch what she was doing. "Wot's all that for, then?"

"Narbrooi bark, to make the antivenom. Pure spirits for solution. Wort, rock salt, and an alembic. These will form the basis for a dressing I shall apply to your injuries."

"Narbrooi are those things I found then, hey?"

"Quite so."

"...you sure you oughta be giving me more of that then? I think I've had quite my fill."

"Indeed. The wort is local to the environment, and must needs live in peace with the narbrooi. To that end, its leaves will react to their venom with a counteragent that keeps the peace betwixt the two, as it were. The alembic shall help me form a distillate that will isolate that agent. The salt shall serve as stabilizer, as well as thickener. Now be still a moment, I must needs focus."

Thancred fell silent as she worked. She thought to herself as she stirred her concoction and mixed ingredients on the way to making her tincture. When she was younger, she would have found his persistent inquiries grating, irritated by his lack of knowledge and seeming poor sense. Much like her master, she had little patience for fools.

However, she considered, as she tapped her pestle against the walls of the mortar, she had come around to having an appreciation for earnest curiosity in the true pursuit of knowledge. She smiled a bit to herself at the thoughts, as she transferred the mixture to an alembic, before collecting the distillate into a bowl, which she handed to Thancred.

"Hold that a moment while I retrieve some bandages."

She turned and dug through a cabinet, and heard Thancred make a terrible retching noise behind her. She turned quickly to see him holding the bowl away from him and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Och, and I thought the first thing you 'ad me drink was bad. That was foul."

"You were not meant to drink it!"

"No wonder. I gotta say... that thing's bark is worse than its bite."

She frowned as he looked at her for a long moment before breaking into a grin and laughing.

"Cor, I'm not that daft, you said it was a dressin', I didn't drink it none."

Y'shtola strode back over and snatched the bowl from his hands, continuing to frown at him. She sat down next to him and yanked his arm over, and began to not so gently apply the dressing. As she did so, he howled in a mix of pain and his own amusement, unable to resist laughing at his own joke even as he felt the sting of the antivenom.

"You are incorrigible," said Y'shtola, and Thancred just kept laughing.

#ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #thancred waters #y'shtola rhul #bark #202309-03 #biot writes

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whostheblondegirlwriting · 2 years

Text

Go-around

A Top Gun: Maverick fanfic for @notroosterbradshaw

Smug sonuvabitch. The way he always sauntered in. Sunglasses on, damn near anytime of the day or night; goofy Hawaiian print button down always just one button short of acceptably buttoned or, dear god, over that tight tank. That stupid mustache on his stupid handsome face, just above that fuckin’ cocky grin as he surveyed the room from the door, like he was out looking for trouble. All that swagger when he finally stepped in to-

No. That cocky S.O.B never walked anywhere.

Rooster strutted.

And it used to drive you wild. Now, it just makes you feel a little forlorn.

“Your boy’s here,” you mentioned, tilting your head back over your shoulder but your attention not following in the direction of the rowdy welcome Rooster received.

Sitting up a little straighter, Maverick leaned to see around you drying the glass in front of him. He smiled, seeing who you were referring to and shaking his head to disagree, “I don’t have any kids.”

“Might as well,” Penny jutted her chin. “Not sure sometimes which one of you can be more trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you dryly muttered, eyes wide for emphasis.

Maverick smiled into the next sip of his drink, making no denials or excuses, and Penny put a hand on your shoulder, telling you, “I need to wrap up a few things in the office. You sure you’re okay by yourself?”

You gave a reassuring nod, flipping the towel in your hand to lay over your shoulder as you stepped over to fill another pilsner for the hand that went up in a silent order a few stools down. “Yeah, no problem.”

She sent you an appreciative smile, and Maverick a wink, before she headed to the back to inventory the afternoon’s delivery and finish the payroll, leaving you to manage the early evening crowd. For a Friday night, it was off to a manageable start. In a half hour, your partner’s shift would start, so there’d be help on hand soon enough anyway. You kept pulling taps and pouring shots, and slowly the room started filling in.

The Hard Deck was about as infamous as some of her patrons. Her off post, beach front real estate was a draw to a mix of Navy personnel and civilians. Most were regulars with ties to the base, living local or dropping in on a pass from their float whenever their ship, for however long or brief, touched the docks. There was always a few looky-loos come for one reason or another, mostly spring breakers looking for some notoriety or kitsch for their selfies, and sometimes, hopeful ladies up for a bit of fun. The latter always attracting some extra squids and salty dogs alike on the weekends looking to be of service for the night.

Amongst the crowd, you fell into a small niche with Penny. Your family was local, having put down roots in your teens, the last stop of your station-hopping young life while your father pursued a career in the Navy. Your family had a history of service going back to your great grandfather. You went off to college, on the other coast, thoroughly intent on avoiding anymore military life with an accounting degree. Until you took a summer job your sophomore year at the Hard Deck and fell hard in love with that little bar and her clientele. You went back every summer and, when job applications to “real jobs” in shiny downtown offices went nowhere, you made your way to the bar, where they let you tend the tables at night and mind the books in the mornings. At least that degree didn’t go totally to waste, and Penny was happy for your expertise when she took over the place.

You played too busy to care, taking a full bus bin to the back, when Rooster wandered over to say hello to Maverick at the bar. You tiredly groaned on your return, shoulders dropping at seeing him perched on a stool next to his mentor. He noticed you coming, flipping up a hand in a wave to signal his thirst.

He grinned up at you. “Can I get a-“

“Not even a ‘hello’?” you tutted, already tipping a glass and pulling the tap for him. “Just ‘gimme a beer’?”

Rooster frowned, pointing a finger from his elbow on the bar to note, “I did not say gimme.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded along, putting the glass on the bar to slide over to him.

He tipped his sunglasses up to his forehead, batting those big brown eyes at you. “I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Hello.”

“Hello, Bradley,” you dryly replied, rolling your eyes and giving in to a smile, as he stood up and took his drink back to his buddies.

And that was the gist of your friendship with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. A well-meaning courtship recategorized to a fling, after Rooster caught probably the shittiest schedule for his first sea duty, and then relegated to the friend zone. Those first exciting dates were looking good. You even managed to navigate dating those first few months around his obligations for the workup before he disappeared on his first cruise. Six months later, he “came back” and, between the training and spending time with his family back home or with his squadron, you barely had him to yourself for a handful of weeks dotted here and there before the next damn cycle started.

You were both lonely and miserable while you were apart. You were a good girl. You’d never cheat. You didn’t think Rooster would either, but it just didn’t seem fair to either of you. You’d never really gotten the traction to have made a real go of it, before you mutually decided to call it quits, agreeing to stay friends and keep in touch. The last part didn’t work out as smoothly as promised, but there was an effort whenever he was on terra firma.

Now, a couple years later, a little thicker skinned and with some life experience under your respective belts, the two of you were back to working on that nearly lost friendship. Sparks had flown a couple times since he’d been off and on in and out of town the last few months, but nobody let any fires start, knowing how it’d turned out before. Life hadn’t changed so much that it could open up for a second try, but damn if you hadn’t been tempted.

He still looked good. Scratch that. He looked even better. Somehow that goddamn mustache worked for him. Was still charming, funny, sincere when he wanted to be and a cut up with his friends or at a piano. Just the way you remembered, and liked, him.

So, what was a little harmless flirting between old lovers anyway?

The answer is “dangerous”.

Apparently for you. It didn’t seem to affect Rooster much, by your assessment. After a few random meet ups for drinks or a dinner with him and some of his buddies, you’d both started to catch on to how much you missed the other. But you didn’t want to set yourself up to be let down again. He asked once, after dinner. You turned him down and that was it. He carried on the way he does, with his chin up and diving headfirst looking for the next adventure. After a week or so to lick his wound, if he even had one, he showed up at the Hard Deck again and was back to turning up the charm and entertaining the ladies around the piano, while you watched from behind the bar, trying your best to not let your disappointment show whenever he came around.

“You know, I think I might try that burger,” Maverick spoke up.

You tuned back in, pulling your attention away from Rooster’s gloating howl of victory over Fanboy and a game of snooker. You gently cleared your throat and picked up a pad and pencil, inviting, “Oh, yeah? The, uh- The bacon and blue or the All American?”

He smiled while you scratched down his order, seeming to have noticed the small flustration your attention on Rooster and the gang had given you. “He’s still a good guy, you know,” he offered, inclining his head toward Rooster when your eyes came back up to his.

You swallowed the little lump in your throat and nodded, a wrinkle of seriousness in your brow to try to come off cooler than you were about the topic. “Yeah. Good guy. I know,” you clumsily went along.

“I just say that because,” he excused, “I know the two of you had-“

“Oh, no.” You scrunched up your nose and waved him off. “Ancient history. We’re just friends.”

He seemed to study you before giving a slow nod and saying, “I see.”

You were relieved to have your shift mate arrive, giving you a friendly pat on the arm to let you know he was there. You gave a quick greeting, summing up the night so far and then hurried off to the kitchen to put in the order.

Customers started rolling in and you, mercifully, didn’t have much time to spend on any one conversation for too long. But you zeroed in on the pair of young ladies at the corner of the bar. With their cute cocktails and eyes running over every potential prospect of the opposite sex, paying particular attention to the ones in uniform, you already knew what was coming.

“Ladies,” Rooster beamed, smile so bright no wonder those fuckin’ sunglasses were still on inside. He slid up on their port side, leaning an elbow and his empty glass on the bar. “How are you?”

“Great,” they both smiled back, in unison.

“You don’t look like you’re in the Navy,” he playfully noted.

The girls giggled, and it was almost enough to make you gag. Rooster was already on to his next line when he put up a hand for your attention and pointed to his empty Pilsner on the bar for a refill. You snarled in disgust, but kept it to yourself as you walked down the bar to swipe his glass. You poured him a fresh one and marked his tab. Your eyes rolled, as you got close enough again to hear him saying rather coyly, “Why, yes, I am a pilot.”

Putting down his next beer, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “He’s not a pilot.”

The women looked confusedly at each other, over to Rooster, and then back to you. Your lips pressed together and brow went up to feign sympathy, nodding to back up what you’d said.

“I mean, look at him,” you doubled down, and Rooster scoffed. You could feel the daggers thrown at you from behind his shades when he sent a look your way. “That shirt?”

Rooster chuckled awkwardly and recovered. “Uh, yes, I am,” he assured them.

“Look for the guys in the khakis,” you advised them, with a nod toward a group of the telltale service uniforms by the jukebox to guide them.

“I am a pilot,” he tried again, reasserting himself. “F-18s. My callsign’s Rooster.”

“See?” you wagged up your brow. “What self respecting pilot would name himself Rooster?”

“You know that’s not how it works,” he reminded you, through a tight smile. “I didn’t name myself Rooster,” he started to explain, giving you a side eye look and forcing a chuckle through his relaxing grin. He turned back to the girls, continuing, “Your callsign is given to you. See, my dad’s callsign was- Hey. Where ya goin’?”

You whistled a descending note, sailing the towel in your hand down toward the bar top, letting it fall from your hand with the mimicked sound of an explosion. A smirk tugged up the corner of your lips, as your eyes followed the pair of ladies heading for the other side of the room. You kept smiling, despite the stern finger wagging your way and aggravated growl from Bradley. Rooster pushed off from the bar, looking toward a safer harbor among his peers by the pool table. You snorted, seeing Penny and Mav snickering down the way at what you’d just done.

Rooster looked too, and didn’t appreciate the audience. He stared accusingly at Maverick and Penny, mouth a little slacked, speechless for a moment. He picked up his jaw and nodded tightly, saying, “Alright. That’s cool.”

Penny cleared her throat, dropping her eyes to her towel in hand wiping at the bar and Maverick quickly looked to you, pointing to his plate, stumbling through, “This, uh- Great burger. Thanks.”

You wheezed, holding down the laughter as long as you could, while Rooster took his beer and stormed off. A proud smile came to you. You don’t know where the inspiration came from tonight, but the joke you’d just played wasn’t out of the lane for some of the shenanigans you were known to pull. You’d cockblocked a few of his squadronmates before, when they were being insufferably douchey about their careers. Your sense of humor had always been part of the appeal. It was just the first time that Rooster was the victim.

Another hour gone by and the place was packed. You felt a little bad, when Maverick left without Penny, but you were grateful that she decided to stay and help on your short-staffed night. The music and conversations were lively and the atmosphere, as always, was too energetic to let the hectic work get you down. You were in the zone. You’d realize how hard you worked when you finally fell into bed right around 3am, like you always did.

“Hey, bartender!”

You turned around, brow wrinkled down at the hostile tone. You wandered down the bar, with a defensive, “Yeah?”

“Stop…telling people I’m not a pilot!” Rooster demanded, trying his best to keep his obvious frustration leveled.

“What?” you laughed, coming to a stop in front of him. “I’m not telling any-“

“This whhhole place is saying it,” Rooster insisted, circling an accusing finger overhead to reference the bar. “Every girl in here is saying it.”

“Bradley, seriously,” you were trying so hard not to smile at his misfortune, but it was a struggle. “It was just those two.”

”Well, guess what,” he flippantly threw his hands up. “They told evvv’ryone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t help the snicker that carried your apology. “I swear. I didn’t mean t-“

“I’m a nice guy,” he insisted, his brow high on his pained expression, fingertips to his chest, and plaintive voice pleading for some kind of concurrence, from anyone who’d give it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Well…” you slowly began, giving a nod of your head to imbue yourself with the nerve to keep going with, “maybe have a little decency and quit macking on innocent civilians just passing through.” Instead of telling him you’d do it again, in a heartbeat, to keep yourself from having anything to be jealous over.

His brow furrowed down suspiciously. “Is that it?” he asked, skeptically. You made another sure nod and he gave an exaggerated scoff, face pinching incredulously. “Bullshit. You’re just taking it out on me.” He waved a directionless hand up, uncoordinatedly elaborating, “The whole, you and me, and whatever. Still mad about me leaving.”

“It’s not that,” you lied, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than you heard it. Besides, mad was the wrong word.

“Fine,” he tightly nodded. Another flip of his hand. “Whatever. It’s whatever. It’s fine.” He raised a finger to add, “And no one says macking anymore.”

You took a step into your side of the bar, looking for whatever sense of privacy the bar could give when you sincerely told him, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no again. But, I think, here, with a few beers in you, isn't the place to talk about it. Right?”

A thoughtful expression came to him, and lasted all of about one second. “Another time, perhaps,” he stuffily decided, before his stoicism broke to a frown. “But this isn’t over.”

You held up your hands, promising, “Tonight is. I swear. Next hot chic that walks in here? I’m on it. I’ll wingman the shit out of it for you. Okay?”

“No. I don’t buy it.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t even have to try this hard,” he lamented.

You sighed to yourself and shook your head this time. You popped up on your toes, looking for Hangman, or anyone else you could trust to make sure Rooster got home safe, deciding, “Okay, Rooster. You’ve had enough tonight.”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” he argued, with an insulted grimace.

“That’s not actually helping your cause, hon,” you tilted your head.

Rooster folded himself on the bar, in dramatic fashion, loudly growling and fists clutching at the front of his shirt. “Whyyy do you have to be so goddamn mea-“

He stopped, the instant Penny cocked up a daring brow and pointed a finger to the first rule of the bar posted beside her. He leveled his eyes at the sign and rolled over, arching as he did to keep his shoulders on the bar and complain to the ceiling, “Fuck!”

Rooster slid off the bar, righting himself to spin around on his heel and point spitefully with the full length of his arm at you, his jaw tight and nostrils flaring. He didn’t say a word, as he backed away from the bar, only lowering his arm when the crowd got in its way.

“How ‘bout you give him a break, huh?”

You turned around to see Penny giving you that knowing maternal look, and your posture deflated with your sigh as you gave in and whined, “But it’s hard.”

“I know,” she sympathetically frowned, rubbing her hand soothingly on your back as she moved around you to grab some held out cash for the tip jar. “Second chances are scary. Believe me,” her eyes went wide for emphasis, “I know.”

She grabbed the whiskey off the shelf to pour, as you lined up a trio of glasses to get the next order ready, defeatedly saying, “I got, like, a half dozen nautical and aviation themed puns I could make about me and Rooster. You want me to start with ships that have sailed or sunk?”

Twisting the bottle to finish her last pour, Penny smirked. “I want you two to have a conversation.”

“We talk all the-“

“A real conversation,” she made a point to say. “Any place else but a bar,” she specified, with a grin and moving to the register to close out a bill.

Shaking your head, as you kept an eye on the draft you poured, you knew, “It’s not gonna go anywhere. He’s not gonna ask again.” You watched her walk around you, dryly saying, “Insert sailed ship pun here.”

Penny sided up next to you to help finish your order. “Then you ask him,” she nonchalantly shrugged. She met your doubtful side of the eye glance her way, and went on, “Neither of you is in the same place you were before. You’re older, a little wiser. You know how this works. You know, now, how to make it work. You just have to get the nerve to try.” She gave a confident sweep of her head. “He doesn’t want you to wingman for him.” She passed a pair of glasses to you to fill up the tray for your waiting patron. “He wants you back.”

“Did you practice that?” you wondered, inflected sass aside. “Sounded rehearsed.”

“That’s experience talking,” she smirked, inclining her head and pointing you to a thirsty customer waiting for attention on the other side of the bar.

You slipped out the door to the deck, pulling the door shut behind you and turning your key in the deadbolt. It wasn’t the closest door to the alarm panel, but going out that way let you double check all the umbrellas were down and chairs stacked in the outdoor area.

“You proud of yourself? Hm?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, a startled gasp escaping you as you clutched a hand to your chest. Your head snapped over your shoulder to see Rooster perched up on the railing.

“Are you?” you dared, giving him a scathing once over. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“Have to have a heart first,” he grumbled.

“Bad night?” you checked, putting your purse and keys down on a table, the after hours motion lights coming on when you got close. “All thrust, no vector, huh?” you snidely quipped, before clicking your tongue and sweeping your head.

“There! See that?” he pointed accusingly, hopping off the rail and stepping up to your table. “You did it on purpose. I fuckin’ knew it.”

Your head fell back, as you groaned to the sky, “Oh, my god, Rooster. For the last time, it was a joke. I’m sorry.”

“Even Bob got in on it,” he complained, holding his arm away. “The whole night- ruined. It’ll take me weeks to undo that.”

You folded your arms, a facetiously thoughtful crease in your brow as you mused, “See, I love Bob. Everyone thinks he's no fun, but he knows a good joke when he hears it.”

“Fuck Bob and fuck you,” he spat.

Your jaw fell open, fully offended. “Wait just a damn minute,” you scowled. “You are way out of the box h-“

“I’m right on target,” he insisted, with an arrogant nod.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you moved to start dragging chairs up to the side of the building. “You’re an ass, is what you are,” you assured him. “Go home, Rooster.”

He swept his head and pointed a finger at the ground, broadcasting his resolve that he wasn’t going anywhere. “No. I got something to say.”

“Fine. Have at it,” you waved a dismissive hand his way, grabbing another set of chairs to move. “But if you give me anymore shit for a joke I pulled a dozen times before, I’m calling the MA.”

He let the scraping of the plastic chair legs stop before he clarified, “It’s not shit for the joke, it’s for the subtext.”

You pulled a face, begging, “The what?” as you added a chair to one of the stacks up the wall.

“The subtext,” he repeated. “The underlying-“

You flipped him off him. “I know what subtext means. I just didn’t know you did.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” he frowned.

“Fine. What exactly is this alleged subtext?” you invited, heaving up another chair.

“You’re still in love with me,” he said bluntly, the surety of it too firm to be just an accusation.

You let go of the chair, letting it drop the last few inches to the pile with a rattling smack, a little blindsided by the remark. You recovered quickly enough, twisting around to pick up another chair as you told him, “We’re not going through this again, Rooster.” Maybe not as firmly as you wanted it to sound, but it did sound a little more “tired of the conversation” than it did “afraid of the conversation”, and that worked just as well.

“Again?” he laughed. “We never even got through a first time to have an again.” He waved a hand away at the past, pointing out, “We barely got started.”

With a heavy sigh, you agreed, “Yeah, maybe.” You waved a hand, dragging over one more chair and calling it, “Bad timing, or whatever, but the point is, it didn’t work, did it?”

“No,” he conceded, his chin lowering a fraction to do so and the sound a little disappointed. But the confidence came back when he suggested, “What if it was bad timing? What if now is different?”

“What’s different from the last time you asked me out?” you pressed, stacking the last of the loose chairs.

“Well, not much,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his shoes for a minute, and your heart sighed at the adorable sight. “Was only a few weeks ago,” he mumbled. His head came back up, more confident to say, “But you see it, don’t you? How much I’m here, now? It’s my shore duty. I’m not gonna get another cruise for-“

“Oh, I see you around, Rooster,” you agreed, nodding. “I see you in here every weekend, chasing skirts with the guys and letting girls hang on you at the piano. I see a lot, bud.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” he helplessly shrugged, watching you reach over a table to put down its umbrella.

“Well, if you think I’m still hung up on you, why don’t you show a little respect and not do that shit in my bar?” you argued, and then promptly stood a little straighter, surprising even yourself for how harshly that came out.

He didn’t have a snappy comeback. Just stood there, lips a little parted and mouth empty for once. He was just standing there, staring. Or, at least, you figured he was, if you could see his damn eyes.

“And take off those fuckin’ sunglasses,” you frowned, walking over to the next table and umbrella to come down. “It’s 2:30 in the morning, for Christ’s sake.”

“No,” he airily refused. “I like ‘em.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking your head at the heavens. “You are drunk.” Cranking down the umbrella, you told him, “I don’t have anyone’s number, but I can call Penny. She can get Maverick to come get you.”

“No,” he grimaced. “I don’t need a ride. I’m fine. I’m just…pissed.”

You ducked out from underneath the collapsing umbrella. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“It’s so…” He clenched his fists, looking for the word.

When it didn’t come to him, you swept out your hand, sarcastically prompting, “Is sooo...”

“God dammit, woman,” he stomped his foot. “You are infuriating!”

“Okay, Master-at-Arms it is,” you impatiently decided, walking over to get your phone from your purse. “You don’t want a ride, then I’m not gonna sit here and-“

“Would you. just. stop?” he begged. His brow pinching up over the tops of his shades, pleading, “For five fuckin’ seconds.” He held out his upturned palms. “Can we just have a real conversation?”

You cocked up a brow. “Been talking to Penny?”

“What?” his face scrunched up, lip curling, clearly confused. “The hell does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, taking your hand out of your purse and crossing your arms.

“Sweetheart, look,” he gently began, shoulders drooping in resignation and hand palming over his heart, despite the eye roll you gave him for the name. “I know what it looks like. Okay? I get it,” he promised. “But I go home alone.”

You exhaled tiredly, eyes turning up to the stars, but he pushed on.

“I don’t want to take any of these girls home,” he earnestly said. “I’m just having fun. Helping set ‘em up for the guys. That’s all. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t taken anyone home. And even if I did, nobody’d wanna stay because I’m not good company. I don’t want to go places with them. I don’t wanna meet their friends. I just go home.” He took a beat, looking you up and down, before confessing, “Miserable. Because I don’t sleep anymore…because all I do is think about you.”

“Rooster,” you sighed, “I can’t even take you seriously right now.” You waved a hand up at him. “You've had a few tonight an-“

“I stopped drinking 3 hours ago,” he flatly told you. “Sheesh,” he lightly scoffed, with a small, crooked grin. “What kind of bartender…”

His soft attempt at humor trailed off but you stuck to your guns, finishing, “And, for god’s sake, the sunglasses.”

He took them off, head bowing as he fidgeted with folding his sunglasses with both hands, and you instantly wished he hadn’t. Looking back at those doleful brown eyes, sheepishly looking up at you through his lashes, something inside you started to melt.

Sounding a little embarrassed, he quietly told you, “You know, I wear ‘em because I don’t want people to see me lookin’ at you. Don’t want you to see me looking at you behind the bar.”

That was sweet, but you were still conscious of the need to safeguard your heart.

“I’m glad you’re back, Bradley,” you admitted, with a genuine nod. “I really am. And I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend some time together and, yeah, it’s been fun. I really missed you.” You held your shoulders up in a long shrug, worrying, “But I don’t know what to do with that. Things could be different, but they could just be more of the same. And if it turns out to be the latter, I don’t want to have to see you in here every weekend messing around. It’s not fair. It hurts, ya know?”

He nodded along, looking a little ashamed. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“So, what do you want, Rooster?” you finally asked.

“You,” he answered simply, with a kind of reserved optimism. “Just you.” He gestured out with his hands and brought them back together to hold the edges of his sunglasses, saying, “Doin’ whatever you wanna do. Picking up where we left off. Startin’ from scratch. Just name it.”

God, at this point he was irresistible.

“What do ya say, sweetheart?” he wondered, a gentle hesitance in his voice. “How about a go-around?”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

He meandered closer, moving around the edge of the table to stand in front of you, reaching his hand out for yours and checking, “You sure?”

Putting your hand in his, you committed with another nod. “I’m sure.”

A grin of relief pulled up the side of his lips and Rooster let your hand go to wrap his arms around you. “Ohh,” he quietly said, squeezing you tight, “I am never letting you go again.”

Arms folded around his waist, you squeezed him back and prayed, “Please don’t.”

He leaned back, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you, “Promise.”

From somewhere unseen, a phone chimed in a message. Rooster took a step back, pulling his phone from his back pocket. From your upside down view, you saw it was Hangman, telling him to stop harassing you and they were saving a seat for him.

Rooster shrugged, with an apologetic grin for the interruption. “Sorry. Everyone was going out to IHOP for some food.” He pocketed his phone without a reply. “You hungry?”

“A little, but it’s late,” you knew.

Undeterred, Rooster eagerly proposed, “Let’s go catch up with the guys. C’mon. Come have breakfast. I need pancakes tonight.”

“Pancakes?” you laughed. “That’s what you need? Thought it was me.”

A wolfish smile came to him, as he slipped his sunglasses back on. “I need the carbs before I get to you,” he excused, dipping down to kiss you.

Hooking your arms around his neck, you combed your fingers through the back of his hair and hummed happily. When it was over, you smiled, nodding, “Then, yeah, we should catch up with the guys.”

“That’s my girl,” Rooster beamed.

#top gun: maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #whostheblondegirlwriting

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brother-genitivi · 1 year

Note

gimme "you deserve to know" for Mason and Aydın pls

tysm for the request Laura!!!

Rating: teen + up Pairing: Mason / Aydın Word count: 1k Contains Book 3 spoilers!

“Hi, baba.”

There’s no reply.

Aydın sits cross-legged in the grass, a bundle of blue forget-me-nots bunched in his hand. He fiddles with the stems of the flowers.

“Sorry I haven’t been here in a while,” he says. He keeps his eyes trained on the stems, weaving them into a wonky wreath of some sorts.

Aydın makes a noise of frustration. “I’m struggling to talk to a grave. I sound like a fucking idiot.”

He used to come every week. He’d talk about his day, about the horrid essay he was procrastinating finishing. Weeks turned into months, months into years, now suddenly he’s twenty six years old and he hasn’t visited in eight years.

It just felt like talking to a stranger.

“Whatever, who cares. I, um, wanted to say that I met someone. I wish you could meet him, too.”

He stops abruptly as a crack sounds from behind him. He tenses, scanning the ground for something he can use to defend himself. There's nothing, not even a rock, just grass and more grass-

Aydın can’t stop the shriek that escapes his lips when a hand touches his shoulder. He whirls around, taking a large step backwards.

“Fucking hell! Oh, it’s you!” Aydın breathes.

Mason raises a dark brow. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a burgundy shirt and dark jeans. The crystal around his neck is thankfully still clear, though it hasn’t been too long since they visited the antique shop together.

“Expecting someone else?” Mason says. His brows quickly furrow with worry. “You alright? What’re you doing in a graveyard?”

Aydın holds up his hands, one still clenching the wreath. He takes deep, measured breaths. “I’m fine, fine. Sorry. Jumpy.”

Mason nods in understanding. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Must feel like everyone’s out to get you now.”

Aydın shivers as a chill passes over him. He nods.

“Oh!” he says suddenly. “To answer your other question, I’m visiting my father.”

“Visiting- huh.” Mason’s gaze lands on the weathered headstone. “I can leave if you want.”

Aydın manages a small smile, shaking his head. He's getting what he wants, in a way. For Mason to meet his father.

He sits on the ground again. Mason follows suit, his grey eyes flicking between Aydın and the headstone.

Aydın continues with the wreath, tying the ends together with another flower’s stem. Mason watches his hands move with great interest.

A comfortable silence descends between them. Aydın rests the wreath on the headstone.

Odd. Someone must’ve cleaned it recently. They took the time to painstakingly remove the moss from the engraved letters, as well as washing the dirt off the stone. Probably my mother, Aydın thinks.

“What’s that?” Mason asks, pointing at a small object on top of the headstone.

Aydın touches the chess piece with his fingers. It sends a jolt of energy down his arm. “A knight. Huh.”

He brings his arm back to his side, thinking nothing more of it. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. Bye, baba.”

Aydın takes Mason to the field next to the graveyard. He sinks into the grass and leans backwards to face the clear sky. Aydın finally allows himself to relax, knowing that he’s safe with Mason there. He sucks in a deep breath, content to enjoy the quiet for as long as he can.

His skin heats up as a finger wraps around his pinkie. Aydın slides his hand into Mason’s, their fingers clasping tightly together. Mason’s hands are far warmer than his own, larger and freckled, but soft. Aydın runs a thumb over his knuckles, the movement entirely instinctual.

His phone buzzes. Aydın resists the urge to fling it against the ground in the hopes it might shatter. He extricates his hand from Mason's with a small apology and looks at the notification.

“It’s from Reyhan,” he murmurs. “She wants to see me so we can talk about things.”

“Do you want to?” Mason asks.

Aydın shrugs, his shoulders tensing. The truth is, no, he doesn’t want to. She can ask all she wants, but the answer is always going to be no.

He pushes aside a prickle of guilt that threatens to work its way up his spine.

“I can’t help but think my father would want me to reconcile things with her,” Aydın says. He lets out a strained chuckle. “I mean, obviously. She’s his wife. I don't know if I want to. But should I?”

Mason makes a noise. “Who gives a fuck what you should do? It’s about what you want, handsome.”

Aydın tilts his head at Mason. He wasn’t expecting that answer. Mason’s loyalty to Unit Bravo is unparalleled, and by extension, his loyalty to Reyhan as well. He makes his respect for her clear, at the very least.

“You deserve to know,” Mason continues. “That it’s up to you, I mean. Screw that. You deserve better.”

Aydın climbs onto Mason’s lap, his legs wrapping around his back so he straddles his middle. “I have better, Mason. I have the best. I have you.”

Mason grins at him, his hands resting behind Aydın’s neck and supporting his weight. He pulls Aydın in, closing the gap between them.

Aydın gnaws at his lip, unable to shove down the anxiety fluttering around in his chest. Butterflies, he thinks, is too nice a word for feelings that make him want to explode (in the best way, of course).

“You think I’m the best?” Mason teases.

Aydın makes a face, moving away. “Did I actually say best? I can’t recall. I think I meant the grouchiest, grumpiest ray of sunsh-”

Mason responds by removing his hands from behind Aydın’s neck. Aydın falls backwards into the grass with a small thump.

“Rude.”

Mason clambers on top of him, his hands on either side of Aydın’s head, effectively pinning him in place. “You love it. Admit it.”

Aydın huffs, a flush creeping onto his cheeks. “I love…”

You.

“I love it,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Satisfied?”

Mason cocks his head to one side. His grey eyes almost seem to soften.

Aydın waits for Mason’s usual flirtation, some horrendous line he will end up waving off or laughing at. But it never comes. It’s almost as if Mason is afraid to lose the gentle moment.

He smiles one of his rarer, genuine smiles, his teeth fully exposed. It’s a smile Aydın is seeing more and more often, reserved only for him.

“Satisfied.”

I love you, Aydın thinks.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #twc book 3 spoilers #twc spoilers #twc mason #specialist agent mason #twc detective #twc fic #mason x detective #aydın çağlayan #maydın #my writing #i love them sm. anyways LOL

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itookyoudown · 8 months

Note

From nothing but time (hard time)!

Tim thinks there's nothing to say about it. Conversation (and action) over with the night. He’d be wrong. Raylan’s head and now shirtless shoulders and naked arms pop up by the side of Tim’s bed. He’s peeled off his shirt and stands there looking at Tim with a smile in his eyes.

“Tim, you want a taste of Kentucky?”

Tim rolls his eyes. And then he closes them. There’s no potential threat in the question. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Raylan’s dick is hard again. Thus no way for the other man to weaponize it. Not yet. Tim’s still got another thirty to forty minutes before he might have to shove off an attempt for a second round.

“Think I’ve had my fill for the night,” Tim declines in a dry, disinterested tone. He knows now what the inside of Raylan’s mouth tastes like.

He hears something tinny open and close. Tim does peek to find out what that’s about. Raylan’s holding out the little box that he keeps his personal effects in. Letters. Snacks. Shit like that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

Tim squints at him. “You do know it’s candy you’re supposed to lure boys with if you’re looking to get your cock sucked. Cookies? Cakes? Now, this is what witches use as bait for kids they wanna cook up. Unless you're trying to eat me?”

A shit-eating grin stretches out Tim’s lips. God, he loves this. This is the kind of shit that gets him hard. Or it would have, if he hadn’t just shot off three minutes ago. “This is cultural appropriation, Raylan. You’re mixing up unseemly fornication with cannibalism.”

“Eat the fuckin’ cookie, Gutterson.”

Tim’s never had someone threaten him over baked goods before. He keeps his gaze pinned on Raylan’s face as he dips his fingers into the tin box that Raylan’s still holding out. Slow. Careful. He’s wary about this.

“Why you sharing your mama’s cookies?” he asks.

There’s no afterglow in prison, but apparently, there are cookies. Tim shouldn’t take the cookie. For much the same reason he shouldn’t call Raylan Raylan.

There are stories about Raylan. There are so many stories about Raylan. While Tim thought most of them were bullshit…the more he gets to know Raylan, the more he believes there's more truth to them than lie.

And one of those stories that might not be such a tall tale is that Raylan shanked a man for stealing one of the goodies his mother bought in on family day.

“I told her ‘bout you,” Raylan answers nice and easy and with absolute unbidden honesty, “and she told me to share.”

Un-fucking-believable. It’s true. Even murderers still love their mothers.

Ohh yo. Justie i’m glad you asked this one so I can ramble about it quite a bit. This fic’s popularity has always surprised me and I’m still floored by the folks that have reached out to tell me it was one of the fics that drew them into reading more Justified fanfiction or set sail the givenson ship for them.

This was written back in my early days of writing fanfiction for the very first time. I wanted to test out my comfort zone and also give back in some way to the fandom that had given me so much joy, so I hosted a mini prompt fest (Givensongiving) right here on tumblr and invited justies to send me prompts for givenson fics.

You can thank @sublightsleeper for prompting “involuntary arousal + prison sex, gimme that sweet sweet au sauce” and thus this fic was born.

It was hugely inspired by the prison scenes in Justified and other shows such as Oz, Orange is the New Black, and a lot of nonfiction books + documentaries I’ve read over the years about the USA prison system.

When I thought about how to put Raylan and Tim in a prison setting, I immediately went with the idea that they both ended up as inmates. I think I briefly considered the idea that they were both guards. Or even doing guard/inmate, but I didn’t really get any noncon or darkfic inspiration from the prompt. Besides, I did want to preserve the equal footing they have had on the show with each other and I was drawn to painting a friendly/comforting connection between them as they're locked up.

Once I knew I wanted to do inmate/inmate, there was zero question on HOW Raylan and Tim would end up in prison: they’d be there for murdering their fathers.

I can clearly remember thinking about how Raylan would have killed Arlo and had this thought: “what if Raylan killed Arlo with a baseball bat? That’d be hot…but also horrifying for him so let’s explore that”. It felt really fitting to me to have Raylan kill Arlo in such a “personal” way (close and personal and frantic and messy) and Tim to kill his father in an “impersonal” way (cold and distant with a gun and utilizing military tactics).

ANYWAYS. Sorry for all the background rambling onto rambling about this specific bit!

This whole exchange was really meant to highlight the different ways that Raylan and Tim have learned how to survive prison and the effect it’s had on their ability to make connections with others and how to navigate relationships.

Prison has hardened Tim. He’s closed himself off behind a very high wall to protect both his emotions and also physically safeguard himself. He’s always looking out for an angle that someone might use to hurt him. In this case, when Tim worries about Raylan trying to initiate more sex, this is Tim being painfully aware that his cellmate could regard his agreement with consenting to sex this time as consenting to sex always.

Earlier in this fic I implied that Tim is a survivor of incest & SA, so it was important to me that I circle around to that reveal again and have Tim anticipating this violence (and have him ready to defend himself)…but having him do it in a very Tim-like way. His casual acceptance of the possibility of it was really meant to highlight the horror of what’s happened to him in the past.

I also feel like the cold, factual, and slightly paranoid way that Tim reacts to Raylan in the immediate aftermath of their sexual encounter was a good contrast to Raylan’s more lighthearted approach as well. Tim hasn’t done as much time as Raylan and Tim got to live life a little before being locked up. And because of that I think Tim’s viewpoint of what they’ve done is more practical – he’s in prison and cut off from the outside world, he’s making due with what and who is available to him. He’s touch starved and knows it and so seeks friendly hands for a few minutes of respite without expecting anything beyond that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

You have no idea how long I spent researching “traditional kentucky desserts” and “popular kentucky desserts” before I settled on butter cake cookies lol. I really wanted it to be something simple but distinct, something that Frances would actually bake and she’d be able to take into prison for Raylan.

This was also, once again, Tim making implications about his past and being purposefully offensive about it because he likes to tell his little jokes as his primary coping mechanism.

Compared to Tim, it was my goal to make Raylan…I don’t want to call him soft, even though his behavior is obviously softer when you compare it to Tim’s. Raylan is still a very violent and angry man in this fic. His murder of Arlo sent him to prison and him assaulting and murdering other inmates has ensured he’ll be a lifer. He’s also still a smooth talker and likes to tell others what to do (hence him telling Tim to eat the fucking cookie).

However, I did want to draw attention to the fact that Raylan has spent more of his life inside of prison than outside of it. He went in while he was still a teenager. He’s never known the outside world in an adult way, so there’s absolutely a childish edge to him and a degree of innocence in the way he tries to grow closer to Tim.

And I did want to make it clear that despite Raylan’s charm and the fact that he’s over 40 years old in this, he’s emotionally underdeveloped and has a much more rosy view. He is very much experiencing A Big Crush on his new cellmate (and is over the moon that the newest boy on the block likes him best) and is treating their time together as if they’re “dating”. He’s also obeying his mama’s advice on how to treat Tim because yes this is also sneaky Raylan is a mama’s boy propaganda fic.

As an aside, I loved including Frances even if she’s in the background. It felt so good to write at least one AU where Frances survived Arlo even if that meant she lost Raylan to prison. She got to live!!

(author commentary ask game)

#tooks.txt #ask games #author commentary #justie games #itookyoudown #justie author commentary #givenson

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imagine-knb · 4 months

Note

I'd love to be a part of the match-ups, they're so much fun! Sorry if this comes out as very long, and happy valentine's day! 💕

I'm an INFP. When in a group of strangers, I tend to act more extroverted to hide how nervous I really am and it works because when I tell them the truth later they're always shocked that I was nervous! I'm actually very introverted and the type of person who once you give me time to come out of my shell, I will be my true self, which is much more talkative, bubbly mixed with some sarcasm, and (if the person I'm with is fine with it) touchy as I LOVE giving and receiving hugs. I'm quiet but not timid just fyi as I've been known to be pretty brave when needed (ex: I have no problem telling someone I have a crush on them despite my face being red lol) I don't hold grudges, loyal af, and I'm an open book, if you ask me something, no matter how random, I'll answer it. People can talk to me about anything, nothing is too personal with me! My friends tell me they admire my honesty, empathy, and how caring I am to those around me but balance things out by not letting people push me around.

Likes: naps, dark chocolate, music

Dislikes: High heights, thunder/lightning storms, being ignored on purpose

Hobbies: playing video games, going on night walks, and drawing

I adore the GOM, Uncrowned Kings, and Captains

For the match up I just submitted, I forgot to add that aside from the guys I mentioned I also adore kagami and himuro as well! So I also realized I forgot to add my nickname, gender, and pronouns... It's Moon, female she/her.

Type of Romance

Friends to Lovers

How You Two Met

The two of you had met through mutual friends and an easy friendship, in his opinion, was born right away. You were easy to talk to, always responded to him in kind, and didn't write him off as too hyperactive to interact with. Hayama had always been so high energy and upon first meeting him, you matched that well.

He was a bit of a show off the first day you met him, showing you tricks on his skateboard and wanting you to watch every one of them. If we're being honest, perhaps Hayama had a crush on you from the moment he met you, because he always seemed to be vying for your attention.

By the end of the day, he was declaring you a best friend.

"Moon, hold on!" Hayama ran up to you before you could leave the park. In his hand, he held his cellphone, waving it around for you to see. "Let's exchange numbers! I want to hang out with you again."

By the time he reached your side, Hayama was practically shoving his cellphone into your hands, asking you to input your contact details, your social media, anything that would allow him to meet up with you once more. There was a bright smile on his face, sharp toothed and innocent. It dropped momentarily when he made a realization.

"Wait, no, it's more appropriate for me to give you my number, isn't it?" The dropped smile didn't last long on his face as he began grinning once more, asking, "Gimme your phone so I can give you my number?"

How He Fell For You

He had fallen for you more outgoing and extroverted personality at first, thinking that it was the real you. He was definitely thrown for a loop when you confessed that you had been a nervous wreck the entire time, but that didn't stop Hayama from falling for you further.

He admired your bravery to put yourself out there despite your true feelings on social situations. It may have instilled a little bit of a protective nature in him around you, wanting to keep you from getting too overwhelmed.

This protection actually extended to even himself, and he worried at first that confessing to you wouldn't be the right move. It's a good thing you had other plans.

He was staring at you, wide eyed and shocked. The slight tan of his skin was beginning to turn a darker shade, a little redder, with his surprise. For once, Hayama had not much to say as his mouth fell agape at your words. When a full minute had passed, and you began to look worried, he finally choked out, "Can you say that again?"

"I like you, Hayama," you repeated, hoping your confession would reach him the second time around.

But his brows furrowed. "Are you sure? I'm not too... too much?" But at your insistence and the reassuring smile on your face, Hayama's own expression broke out into his usual grin. He almost looked relieved. "I like you a lot, too, Moon."

What a Relationship with Him is Like

Hayama's the type of boyfriend to take your willingness to talk about anything and everything seriously. He loves asking you questions, picking your brain and random subjects, and ranting to you about conspiracy theories. Often, the two of you will be up until the late hours of the night discussing the same topic for hours. It definitely helps that he loves hearing the way you talk.

Hayama loves that you're a rather touchy partner because he is as well, often coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your shoulders or hold you close by the waist. There's almost never a time where he isn't touching you, always wanting to feel close.

And on those days where his energy just seems to be lower than normal, when he needs a quiet get away and a bit of a recharge, he knows he can count on you to be there for him.

With his head on your lap and your hands threading through his hair, Hayama gave off a long, tired groan. He had been working extra hard at practice, spending long hours on the court that left his body exhausted.

"Can we stay like this forever?" he asked, reaching up to stretch his arms around whatever part of you he could reach. It had you laughing, telling him that eventually he'd have to get up and go home, for daylight would only last so long and the night would be there soon.

"Naw, I have a better idea," Hayama said, grinning up at you. "Hey Moon, tell me again about that band you like," he requested, knowing once he got you going, the two of you would be laying together talking for hours.

Match Up Requests are Closed

#imagine knb valentine's event 2024 #hayama

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ehimemo34 · 1 year

Text

I haven't posted on tumblr in a hot minute but I came back to say this.

Sasuke x Naruto shippers, get your asses out of the Sakura x Sasuke tag. Ur legit bitching over nothing.

We don't go all up in your tags and complain. And even if we do, it's bc y'all did it ours first.

More on this rant:

Not liking Naruto x Sasuke does not make you homophobic. Period. You don't have to like the ship at all, and there are legit REAL and CANON reasons people dislike the ship.

You do not have to like sakura x Sasuke either, I understand if someone would dislike the ship bc of how the relationship started and such.

Naruto x Sasuke shippers, please kindly take ur bullshit somewhere else. Sasuke and Sakura are canon, please kindly get over it. They are together, they have a child, they have had romantic moments in the anime, novels and manga. Get. Over. It.

You use the excuse that the relationship is dead, or that Sasuke is a shitty husband or father, or that Sakura is a shitty wife or some shit about her character and achievements, blah blah blah, I read a post about it and the person admitted they haven't watched Boruto, so they have zero idea of what's actually happening.

Sasuke, for one, isn't a shitty husband. Yes I will admit he is absent, but he feels deeply guilty for it, and tries his hardest to make up for it in the way he can.

Sasuke being a deadbeat dad, is so far from the truth that is actually shocks me. People say he only trains Boruto, which is very much not true. He trains sarada quite frequently. An example of this being the fact, he came back for the chunin exams to watch her, he actually states that to her and Sakura. He teaches her chadori (I can't spell it okay? Gimme a break) and water style actually. And it's even in the novels that when he does come home, he spends a lot of time with her, training her or even just spending time with her in general.

The idea he is a shitty husband, is so far from the truth, and you clearly have zero understanding of his character. (Also while where on this note, I would like to add; he would treat Naruto exactly the same as he treats Sakura, if him and naruto where canon that's the truth) he does small but powerful gestures to show his love and care for her. Such as tapping her forehead, holding her hand, saying thank you to her (which is the Japanese way of saying I love you), protecting her, eating the food she makes him and complementing it. There's more but I'm not gonna list em all here.

Now onto Sakura.

This idea that her achievements are fanon and not canon are just..insane to me.

Its literally stated in data books, anime and novels that not only is Sakura the head of the hidden leaf hospital, but she also OWNS hospitals/child mental health services in the sand and leaf.

It's stated that she is one of, if not the best medical nin, in the leaf and practically everywhere else.

She's also fought and defeated mostly everyone she's ever battled against. (not including Sasuke bc let's be real, that was not even a fight)

She's known for having monster strength, or superhuman strength.

She went up against shin, who had so many bloody sharigans he may as well be called Danzo 2.0 and kicked his ass.

Shes saved the lives of thousands.

This is getting super long so I won't list anymore, but please, if ur gonna argue about sasusaku or hate on either Sakura or Sasuke, please at least have your facts correct.

#sasusaku #sasuke x sakura #sakura haruno #sasuke retsuden #saradauchiha

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sparatus · 25 days

Note

🐇🏜🍦🍅!

writers' truth or dare

thanks nopal!!

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

iiii am not keen on reader inserts personally, deffo ocs

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

gimme a book report. pick out the quotes you like, tell me what you Noticed, respond to the different story beats, speculate on what you think is going to happen next - i put a lot of work into these chapters man i want to hear your thoughts beat by beat, commint is commint but i want to know what you THINK as you're going through it

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

mmm hold on there's not really a lot of characters i hate that much [shuffles notecards] oh i guess i can say some nice things about udina

honestly. udina's just doing his job. the narrative wants you to hate him along with the council because he tells you No sometimes but he's really just doing his job

he's actually quite good at that job. listen when he speaks. he actually understands the game he's playing and what's called for in politics. i pick anderson every time but in-universe he's actually the FAR superior choice for councilor because he actually has legal and political training and knows how to work the field. it's not his fault he's in a bootlicker military propaganda video game that encourages the player to think all authority figures are bad and stupid

honestly? great suit. good color choices. looks great on him no notes

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

mmm i think i can always improve on action sequences. i struggle with them a lot and tend to lean on stream-of-consciousness, and it seems to work well based on feedback, but to me they feel rushed and over too quickly to understand what's actually happening. there's room to expand on what's happening without breaking up the flow i think, action sequences are hard but im doing my best

#press conference #writernopal

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zilabee · 1 year

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I've really enjoyed 'Read the Beatles', a collection of essays, interviews, snippets and such of people writing about Beatles through the years. I've posted a few bits from it recently. It's a really nice mix, including quite a few things that were published at the time, which I find more interesting in a lot of ways than people in the 2000s looking back.

But. Now I've reached the section of the book where she collects together some bits about each Beatle individually.

John:

An excerpt from Ray Coleman about John's early life

A bit from Gimme Some Truth, the John Lennon FBI files

A bit from the David Sheff Playboy interview

A bit from the Last Lennon Tapes by Andy Peebles

An obituaryish essay from Simon Frith about Lennon's meaningfuness and genius

A poem from Adrian Henri

An excerpt from Skywriting by Word of Mouth about John being happy being a house husband.

Absolutely lovely. I think that's a really nice collection.

Paul:

A 1982 interview where he talks about John's death

Here Today - a song he wrote about John Lennon

An interview from 2004 called 'McCartney: My Life in the Shadow of the Beatles'

Look at that. Three pieces, less than half of John's. And none of them are even about him. They're all about John. Nothing about his early life, because John wasn't in it. Nothing about Wings because John wasn't in it. Nothing about anything. It's appalling. And yes, I'm SURE it was harder to find things written about Paul than it was about John, especially in 2006. But all the same. (And for people who have come to Beatles more recently and think it's weird that Paul fans have such a bee in their bonnet about stuff like this, it's because of stuff like this! You only see articles now about Paul McCartney's legacy because Paul fans had a bee in their bonnet for a really long time.)

I've not read George and Ringo's sections yet so I can only take them from the contents page. Under the cut:

George:

A section from 'Before He Was Fab: George Harrison's first American Visit'

An excerpt from 'Mystical One: George Harrison' about the attack at Friar Park

An article called: The Unsung Beatle: George Harrison's Behind the Scenes Contributions to the World's Greatest Band

An obituary titled: George Harrison: World-Music Catalyst

Ringo:

An article from 1965 about interviewing Ringo on the set of Help (titled: Domesticated Beatle)

An excerpt from 'The Beatles As Musicians' looking at Ringo's skills as a drummer.

There's lots missing from both of them, I'd say. And yes it's poor that Ringo only has two pieces, but I do notice that they're both ABOUT HIM. And the same with George.

I'm so peeved.

(Saying all of that though, just reading those lists shows you how much stuff there is in this book. Added together these only make up a tiny portion of the whole thing, so it is a great book that I've really appreciated. It's just I might print out and paste in a few bits about Paul's early life, about him writing a symphony, about Wings, about his melody, about his legacy. Something like that.)

#beatles books #paul mccartney #Read The Beatles #edited by #June Skinner Sawyers #the beatles

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symphonyofsilence · 1 year

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As much as I loved NHS & JC's friendship, & would love to see more of it, & as tragic as how lonely they are post-canon with all the trauma & sadness they have to navigate through is, I don't think there is a chance of them ever rekindling their friendship.

Even before NHS's revenge was unraveled, in the present time, there didn't seem to be any closeness between JC & NHS. they hardly had any interaction post-Cloud Recesses (none in the book iirc). but after Guanyin temple, the chances are zero, methinks. There's nothing in his world dearer to Jiang Cheng than Jin Ling, and Nie Huaisang made the unforgivable mistake of endangering Jin Ling twice (once in his family's ancestral hall & once in Yi City), Scarring him for life (I think Jin Ling could do without going through the rest of his life with the trauma of hearing the crack of his Xiao Shushu's windpipe being crushed as Zombie!NMJ suffocated him with one hand with a force that literally lifted Jiggy by his neck, after he was mutilated & had a sword deep in his chest, in front of Jin Ling), and made Jin Ling the leader of a nearly destroyed sect that could not possibly be rebuilt to its former glory, especially at Jin Ling's young age when he was even younger than Jiang Cheng himself was when he was forced into such a difficult position & made to grow up so fast.

Well, NHS brought back JC's brother and helped him clear his reputation & gave JC the truths & a much-needed closure & got the brothers close to reconciliation, I hear you say. But the thing is that even WWX himself doesn't seem grateful. He clearly thinks that what NHS did was only in service to his revenge plot-which WWX doesn't seem very impressed with. He's especially disgusted at what NHS did to Meng Shi's body- & not out of care for justice & WWX. Talking about it, I don't think WWX & NHS would become friends again, either.

So why would JC think any different?

Even if they wanted to continue their friendship with him again- which they wouldn't- how could they trust this person? What they know of him now is completely different than the image he had shown them for years!

The Bottom line is that yeah, that's yet another nice relationship ended forever. They both need new friends & a solid support system now. 'Cause I don't think LXC would be overly eager to continue his friendship with NHS either. (Gimme some Nie Huaisang & Lan Jingyi interaction. NHS should adopt him to both solve his lack of heir issue & for the fuck of it. 'Cause I think it would be funny)

#the untamed #mdzs #cql #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #jin ling #jin guangyao #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wei ying #jgy #nhs #my two cents

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stonedregulus · 2 years

Text

September Reads

(Yes, I am very behind. My apologies.)

I read 12 books this month and 0 fics... Apparently I was in an Original Fiction mood. Oops! These are in the order I read them.

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen

Summary:

Caleb Michaels is a sixteen-year-old champion running back. Other than that his life is pretty normal. But when Caleb starts experiencing mood swings that are out of the ordinary for even a teenager, his life moves beyond “typical.” Caleb is an Atypical, an individual with enhanced abilities. Which sounds pretty cool except Caleb's ability is extreme empathy—he feels the emotions of everyone around him. Being an empath in high school would be hard enough, but Caleb's life becomes even more complicated when he keeps getting pulled into the emotional orbit of one of his classmates, Adam. Adam's feelings are big and all-consuming, but they fit together with Caleb's feelings in a way that he can't quite understand. Caleb's therapist, Dr. Bright, encourages Caleb to explore this connection by befriending Adam. As he and Adam grow closer, Caleb learns more about his ability, himself, his therapist—who seems to know a lot more than she lets on—and just how dangerous being an Atypical can be.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

Okay, I had to work for this one. The plot was a bit slow—I feel like it didn’t start to pick up until around Chapter 20. I am also confused by and why the author decided to introduce new characters and start adding on a deeper plot with only a third of the book left. Those loose ends were not tied up at all so I’m hoping the author wraps it all up and answers questions in the 2nd and 3rd books. I think the story line was fine, and the it was written well. I related far too deeply to Adam. I love him and I just want to protect him from the world. LGBTQ+ rep, yay! TW: self-harm, depression, anxiety, homophobia, homophobic slur

Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Summary:

While the Iskat Empire has long dominated the system through treaties and political alliances, several planets, including Thea, have begun to chafe under Iskat's rule. When tragedy befalls Imperial Prince Taam, his Thean widower, Jainan, is rushed into an arranged marriage with Taam's cousin, the disreputable Kiem, in a bid to keep the rising hostilities between the two worlds under control. But when it comes to light that Prince Taam's death may not have been an accident, and that Jainan himself may be a suspect, the unlikely pair must overcome their misgivings and learn to trust one another as they navigate the perils of the Iskat court, try to solve a murder, and prevent an interplanetary war... all while dealing with their growing feelings for each other.

Page Count: 432 Genre: Sci-Fi, Romance, Space Opera My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

Court politics, galactic treaties, murder, & slow-burn romance. Its like RWRB meets Star Wars. I’ve actually never read a space opera before but I really enjoyed this! Also hello arranged marriage trope?! Yes gimme gimme.

The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper

Summary:

As a successful social media journalist with half a million followers, seventeen-year-old Cal is used to sharing his life online. But when his pilot father is selected for a highly publicized NASA mission to Mars, Cal and his family relocate from Brooklyn to Houston and are thrust into a media circus. Amidst the chaos, Cal meets sensitive and mysterious Leon, another “Astrokid,” and finds himself falling head over heels—fast. As the frenzy around the mission grows, so does their connection. But when secrets about the program are uncovered, Cal must find a way to reveal the truth without hurting the people who have become most important to him.

Page Count: 336 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was really cute. I felt like every character was relatable at some point which was nice but I had a hard time grabbing on to one specific character to make my blorbo. Idk if that makes sense but I normally like to kind of latch onto one character and instead I felt like I was just kind of floating between a few. The MC is a bit whiney but it’s a cute story! I just felt a bit disappointed with the ending. It kind of felt like ‘idk how to end this sooooo uhm, the end?’

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

Summary:

Two boys, alone in space. After the first settler on Titan trips her distress signal, neither remaining country on Earth can afford to scramble a rescue of its own, and so two sworn enemies are installed in the same spaceship.

Ambrose wakes up on the Coordinated Endeavor, with no memory of a launch. There’s more that doesn’t add up: Evidence indicates strangers have been on board, the ship’s operating system is voiced by his mother, and his handsome, brooding shipmate has barricaded himself away. But nothing will stop Ambrose from making his mission succeed—not when he’s rescuing his own sister. In order to survive the ship’s secrets, Ambrose and Kodiak will need to work together and learn to trust one another… especially once they discover what they are truly up against. Love might be the only way to survive.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Sci-Fi, Dystopian My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

This… This is going to be the book that I judge all books on for the rest of my life. Holy shit. No, really, holy shit. I don’t want to over-hype this but I cannot stress enough how good this was. You have got to read this. At first I was laughing because the humor was on point and then suddenly it turned into “Oh fucking shit, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!” This book gave me an existential crisis. I just… wow. Okay? Just wow.

The Temperature of Me and You by Brian Zepka

Summary:

Sixteen-year-old Dylan Highmark thought his winter was going to be full of boring shifts at the Dairy Queen, until he finds himself in love with a boy who's literally too hot to handle. Dylan has always wanted a boyfriend, but the suburbs surrounding Philadelphia do not have a lot in the way of options. Then, in walks Jordan, a completely normal (and undeniably cute) boy who also happens to run at a cool 110 degrees Fahrenheit. When the boys start spending time together, Dylan begins feeling all kinds of ways, and when he spikes a fever for two weeks and is suddenly coughing flames, he thinks he might be suffering from something more than just a crush. Jordan forces Dylan to keep his symptoms a secret. But as the pressure mounts and Dylan becomes distant with his closest friends and family, he pushes Jordan for answers. Jordan's revelations of why he's like this, where he came from, and who's after him leaves Dylan realizing how much first love is truly out of this world. And if Earth supports life that breathes oxygen, then love can only keep Jordan and Dylan together for so long.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was good but… I dunno. It lacked a bit. Like the story line was fine but it just kind of felt like… Idk I felt like there could’ve been more. I wanted moreeeee.

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Summary:

Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school’s resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He’s determined to find out what happened and tie up some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

If you’re going to read only one book from this list, let it be this one. HOLY WOW. FANTASTIC TRANS REP!!! I felt so seen. I loved all of the characters and ughhhhh *feral cat noises clawing off own skin* It is SO GOOD. The story line is incredible. There’s just so much. I didn’t feel like there were any loose ends, everything made sense. I love Yadriel so much I would literally kill for him.

The Extraordinaries, Flash Fire, & Heat Wave by TJ Klune

Summary:

1) Nick Bell? Not extraordinary. But being the most popular fanfiction writer in the Extraordinaries fandom is a superpower, right? After a chance encounter with Shadow Star, Nova City’s mightiest hero (and Nick’s biggest crush), Nick sets out to make himself extraordinary. And he’ll do it with or without the reluctant help of Seth Gray, Nick's best friend (and maybe the love of his life). 2) Nick landed himself the superhero boyfriend of his dreams, but with new heroes arriving in Nova City it’s up to Nick and his friends to determine who is virtuous and who is villainous. Which is a lot to handle for a guy who just wants to finish his self-insert bakery AU fanfic. 3) Nick, Seth, Gibby, and Jazz are back in action bringing justice, protection, and disaster energy to the people of Nova City. An unexpected hero returns to Nova City and crash lands into Nick's home, upturning his life, his family, and his understanding of what it means to be a hero in the explosive finale of the thrilling and hilarious Extraordinaries trilogy by New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune.

Page Count: 400, 384, 384 Genre: YA, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

The relationship between Nick and his dad is just *chef's kiss*. They're fucking hilarious. I laughed so hard through all three of these. Like constant laughter. I cannot even, so fucking FUNNNNNYYY. I love that the second two books really address the sort of weird cop hero worship of the first book and talked about the BLM movement in a great way. Overall a really cute superhero series with great LGBTQ rep.

What If It’s Us, & Here’s To Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Summary:

1) Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it. Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things. But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them? Maybe nothing. After all, they get separated. Maybe everything. After all, they get reunited. But what if they can’t quite nail a first date . . . or a second first date . . . or a third? What if Arthur tries too hard to make it work . . . and Ben doesn’t try hard enough? What if life really isn’t like a Broadway play? But what if it is? 2) Ben has spent his first year of college working on his fantasy manuscript with his writing partner Mario, who is a great Spanish tutor, and an even better kisser. So why can’t he stop thinking about the fact that Arthur’s back in town two years after they called it quits? Arthur is in New York for a dream internship on Broadway, with a boyfriend back at home that he couldn't be happier with. But when he comes upon Ben cuddled up with a mystery boy, he starts to wonder if his feelings for Ben ever truly went away. Even as the boys try to focus on their futures, they can't seem to help running into each other in the present. Is the universe forcing them to question if they’re actually meant to be? Possibly not. After all, things didn’t work the first time around. Possibly yes. After all, the sparks are still flying. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and raise a glass. Here’s to celebrating old friends! Here’s to embracing new beginnings! Here’s to believing in second chances!

Page Count: 480, 448 Genre: YA, Romantic Comedy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

These are cute rom coms. The first one had A LOT of Harry Potter and JKR mentions but it was published right before she was outed as a TERF and the second one doesn’t mention HP at all so that’s good. Over all an easy read if you need something chill.

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Summary:

An incendiary and utterly compelling thriller with a shocking twist that delves deep into the heart of institutionalized racism, from an exceptional new YA voice. Welcome to Niveus Private Academy, where money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because anonymous texter, Aces, is bringing two students' dark secrets to light. Talented musician Devon buries himself in rehearsals, but he can't escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Head girl Chiamaka isn't afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they're planning much more than a high-school game...

Page Count: 432 Genre: YA, Thriller, Mystery My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

This is horrifying but depressingly plausible. I’ve seen so many reviews about how heavy handed this book is and how they didn’t like the “all white people are racist” theme. Guess what? All white people are racist. We have inherent racism, it’s been built into our minds for centuries and it’s our jobs to break down our internalized racism and work on being anti racist. Being anti racist is not a destination. It’s not enough to do a few anti racist things and mark off check boxes to say “I’m not racist.” It’s a journey that we will be on for as long as we live to continue breaking down all of the racist bullshit we’ve been fed throughout our lives. Two quotes from this book really stuck with me: “Growing up, I realized quite quickly that people hate being called racist more than they hate racism itself.” “I don’t trust white people like you do. I obviously don’t think they are all murderers, but I think they are all racist... racism is a spectrum and they all participate in it in some way. They don’t all have white hoods or call us mean things; I know that. But racism isn’t just about that—it’s not about being nice or mean. Or good versus bad. It’s bigger than that.” Most of the white people who are reviewing this book and giving it a bad rating will rant about how unfair and ridiculous it is to call all white people racist. Those reviewers are racist. Full stop. They’re so incredibly mad about being called racist instead of taking the time to evaluate themselves it’s insane, and sad, and they prove the book, which they’re so adamant about being wrong, right. Alright so now that I’m done ranting about stupid people: this book was excellent. So many twists, ones I saw coming and others I didn’t. It’s like Gossip Girl meets Get Out. Some moments are truly terrifying. It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. There were just a few things that didn’t get answered that I really wish the author would have addressed by the end of the book because I’m left questioning what happened. I let’s set up nicely for a sequel, I assume it’s getting one, but I doubt my questions will be answered by one.

DNF:

A Marvelous Light, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

#book recs #book recommendations #book review #monthly reads #monthly reading wrap up #september reads #the infinite noise #winter’s orbit #the gravity of us #the darkness outside us #the temperature of me and you #cemetery boys #the extraordinaries #flash fire #heat wave #what if its us #heres to us #ace of spades

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