christianstgerard-blog

[christianstgerard-blog]

ecllas‌:

“Really?” Ella says, brow peaking in interest. Although she’s unsure of what exactly qualifies as a ‘medal’ for Chris, considering his claims that he was ‘totally certified,’ his prospective skills were still interesting to her. Hell, anyone who could manage to do a cartwheel was pretty impressive in her eyes. “That’s cool. What kinds of medals?” For a moment she entertains the notion that he might reply with silver or gold, rather than the specifics of the sporting events. It didn’t seem out of character for him.

He certainly had a point. It wasn’t like he could point out a thread of botched grammar or a metaphor that lacked payoff. Still, Ella barely knew him. She certainly didn’t trust him enough to know he wouldn’t run his mouth. For all she knew, if she let him leaf through it freely, all the personal shit she preferred to keep just that, personal, would be lambasted through the halls. It would be like the ending of Game of Thrones all over again, but like, way worse. And that was something she couldn’t abide. “If you aren’t interested in writing, then why do you care so much?” Ella asked. Still, she flicked through the pages of her notebook until she found something impersonal enough that she’d feel comfortable showing him. It was just experimental prose. She’d attempted to describe the cloisters without mentioning stating explicitly what they were. It was just a writing exercise she’d found online, but it had been as fun as she’d hoped. After all, how else would she have thought of the description stalks of stone? Ella turned the journal to face him, her fingers curled firmly around the page so nothing else could be exposed to him. “How are these hieroglyphics, for you?”

Ella snorted. She didn’t mean to sound mean by laughing at his expense, but it may have certainly come out that way. “Delegated is a word, definitely. Relegated is just also a word and it also has a different meaning.” Not that she knew the definitions specifically. But she had enough of a gist to at least attempt explaining them to someone else. “Delegate can actually have two meanings. Like a delegate at a meeting basically makes a presentation. To delegate means someone is given or gives power or responsibility to someone else. They sound similar, though.”

“Like ones made of silver and gold?” Like what else are there? He knows there are bronze ones but he’s never gotten one of those before. “I also get like, those certificate things that they put in frames sometimes.” He just never really reads any of them. He just hangs it all to his coach and it just’s another thing that goes on the wall or shown off on a desk, or something like that. His name is littered all over his coach’s office and home. “I’ve gotten ribbons too.” And those are all at his coach’s office as well. Probably he knows Chris won’t take care of them and his dad’s stopped considering Chris as something worth talking about anymore. When his name leaves his dad’s mouth, there’s usually a sigh that follows.

“Well, ‘cause you like it, right? Aren’t we trying to like vibe?” Even if his head hurts a little and his neck feels a little... knotty. He rubs the side of his neck some at the thought. He’s not expecting Ella to show him anything after that so he’s a little surprised when she turns the book his way to expose a line of writing. “Stalks... of... stone?” Hmmm. Stalks, like sticks? “Are you talking about like, columns and stuff? Like those things in... um,” fuck, it was in a 5th grade book he saw once. And a cartoon. “Like in Hercules? The house? With the long stone things. Where the statue of his dad lived?”

The snort doesn’t phase Chris. He’s gotten accustom to the reality that when he says things sometimes, people are just going to laugh a bit and he’s cool with that. He listens intently to her explanation, like how he listens to Gwen when she’s laying things out for him during tutoring. Hmm. “Huh. That’s kind of neat. They’re like... cousin words. Maybe even brother words. That’s pretty neat.” He looks up from his gaze has wandered. “You’re kinda smart, huh?” His lips are in a bit of a half-smile, blue eyes regarding her in a different way now.

#INT ; ELLA D. #we stan know-it-all ella 👏👏👏

[christianstgerard-blog]

jesssing‌:

“Yo,” Jess slung back at him, unintentionally harsh, squinting her eyes shut and bracing her hands out with no clue what to do with them, “What else am I supposed to look at?” The words burst out of her exasperatedly. God, for being a group leader, she wasn’t very good at leading herself sometimes.

Her eyes snapped open to look directly at Chris when the suggestion came up, expression contorting into something full of cringe and pretty juvenile for being a big ol’ senior. Alas, Jess wasn’t your average feminine school girl, in fact, if they allowed you to wear baseball jerseys, sports bras and distressed jeans for the daily uniform, that probably would have been her forever go-to. Not a cent of makeup could ever be found on her face, and messy buns got her out of trouble from the nuns, but otherwise, you wouldn’t catch her shaving her legs or armpits for anything. But that didn’t mean pig shit didn’t fully gross her out, like, right to the core.

“Noah fence, my dude, but-” Jess gulped, daring a look at her hands and regretting it, just about immediately, “Like… I don’t… it’s just, Nutella is hardcore… not this color, I don’t know if you’ve ever had Nutella before, or what, but,” She gasped down air through her mouth, not game enough to breathe through her nose just yet because it had almost made her throw up a second ago. “Mother trucker, why are we just standing around looking at it? Do they have like, animal showers? A hose? Or do you think I can fit in a sink? Or like, a vat of bleach, maybe, I don’t know.”

“So you wanna get it like, everywhere? That’s your awesome plan, bro? I mean, if we wet shit, isn’t that just gonna soak through stuff more?” Lightbulb. His eyes widen and his contorted features go blank. “We need to get naked.” That’s it. That’s his bright idea. “We gotta just drop trou and strip, bro. We gotta find a bathroom and go full commando but like everywhere. We just need--” He looks around, hoping to spot a gift shop that sells clothes or something. Or Sister Michael, because wasn’t she going to get him some clothes? One of the nuns anyway. “I think the person who was supposed to get me clothes is gone...” Thanks, Captain Obvious. “Should we try to find clothes? I think if we threaten people with a hug, they’d probably give us the shirts off their back.”

#INT ; JESS M.

[christianstgerard-blog]

onesmolpaul‌:

Okay, but how awesome would it be to be a wildlife rehab biologist? With an always active brain. Paul was the kind of teenager who changed what she wanted to be when she grew up at least three times a day. At least. So after spending 40 minutes staring in enrapt fascination as a zookeeper cleaned a porcupine’s quills and shoveled pounds of waste from several cages, Paul’s mind was set once again. She was gonna learn all the biology, the zoology, the ethology, the whatever so it could be her inside an exhibit, giving a disgruntled siberian lynx a bath. Or a treat. Hell, even cleaning piss, if it meant it was the closest she could get to the animals. 

With her agriculture club hat worn ironically-unironically around her neck (seriously, who didn’t even own a hat?) and a stripe of sunblock down her nose, Paul had already done three laps around the entire zoo (it wasn’t that big) and she was having the best time. Even with the merciless sun beating down on them, turning her pale skin into what would surely be a pink mess later that night.

She’s making her way back to the Himalayan bear because if that massive Winnie Pooh is finally awake she will lose it, when a horrible stench wafts into her nostrils, accompanied by the uncharacteristically agonized voice of her best friend. “Chris? What the fuck, man?” She exclaims in horrified bewilderment as she takes in his miserable appearance. “How did you manage to do that?” 

Letting a beat pass as her brain works a billion miles a second, she grabs him by the wrist and tugs him to the nearest bathroom. “C’mon, bro. It¿s not the end of the world. You’re lucky it’s a hundred thousand degrees out here… Are you wearing briefs? Please tell me you’re wearing any kind of underwear or else…”

With the amount of times someone’s asked Chris how he managed to do that in his life, he really shouldn’t be better prepped in giving replies. “I don’t know! I didn’t do it!” He whines. “The pig did,” he says in his defense. Louie just squirted hot shit all over him, no heads-up. It was fuckin’ rude. It’s not like Chris knew the dude had to go to the bathroom. He was just giving him hugs.

At the question, Chris feels heat fill his cheeks. "It’s like a 100 degrees today... I didn’t want to like, add more layers, yanno?” Aw no. Now he’s majorly regretting that decision to go commando. This fucking sucks. His face twists into an even more uncomfortable grimace. “Duuuuuuude.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure what to do in this kind of situation. “Dude, what do I do?! I’m being infected by pig shit. Is this gonna stain?”

#INT ; PAUL S.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ofkatherinebishop‌: 

“Oh yeah, is that true? Because it doesn’t sound true,” Kat spoke bluntly as if she required more convincing but she was already started to doubt her own argument. She didn’t know all that well but she did know that Gwen wasn’t like other girls, at least not like the girls that Kat called friends. Maybe Gwen only antagonized other girls, maybe she was pals with guys like Chris. Bros Even. Maybe she didn’t mind it when they spoke about her like that and perhaps Kat’s protesting was more about her own feelings than Gwen’s. “Have you ever asked her why she’s so angry all the time? Asked her like- maybe without talking about having sex with her or something?” She suggested. She didn’t think she was capable of having a reasonable discussion about genuine feelings with the Seton captain, especially not now that Katherine and Damian were on relatively good terms but that didn’t mean that Chris, her apparent pal, couldn’t do it. “Maybe nobody has asked her,” she suggested, that would make Kat angry, she supposed though it was difficult to put her in Gwen’s ruthlessly savage shoes. As Chris continued she mulled it all over, very barely tuning in to what the male was actually saying until he mentioned Andrea’s name.

“Pearson?” Not that there was another Andrea around. She wasn’t entirely sure whether the pickle/cocktail comment was a euphemism and after the way Chris had been talking about Gwen, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Yes,” she confirmed “We’re like sisters,” she corrected a moment later, deciding there was no way she could tell Chris that she was indeed bros with Drea without sounding insincere or ridiculous, it just wasn’t in her vocabulary unless she was mocking one of the boys in their class “We’re best friends” she added, reminding herself as much as reminding Chris of the fact since Kat and Drea weren’t actually talking to each other just yet. “She didn’t say anything about you, actually” she shrugged it off, “Why do you like her? I could maybe put in a good word if you have something good for me to put,” she offered a little clumsily. It wasn’t the most poetic utterance in the human language but it worked, or so she thought, “If you have something nice to say,” she added for clarification, as much for herself as for Chris; she was a little bit lost on where she stood on the matter.

“Well, it is,” Chris retorts back childishly, all he’s missing is the sassy head movement. Gwen might not think they’re friends but to Chris, Gwen is one of his greatest friends. He scoffs a little at Kat being sus of him and Gwen’s broship. Like totally, they’ve had a conversation without the mention of sex.... right? He thinks so anyway. He totally remembers that talk where he quoted her word for word and she talked about her brother. Was sex mentioned there? Probably, but it was also deep too. He talked about his Aunt Sarah. 

“It happens when your friends ditch you, screw the wrong people, cheat on you or avoid you like the plague,” he pulls it out from somewhere in that rough noggin on his, then he nods his head when he thinks he’s quoted her right. Chris lets his wandered gaze -- he always needs to look at the ground or the sky or something when he thinks -- return to Kat again when he’s done echoing Gwen’s words. “That’s what she said.” And barely 0.5 seconds pass before his lips twitch into a smile and he fails at containing the laughter that spills from his lips. Ba dum tsss.

Chris manages to get it back together when Kat mentions Drea’s last name though. He nods three times like a bobble head or a really good dog. “That’s lit. I have best buds here too. Dyl Pickles and Paul. You met Dyl and Paul? They’re fuckin’ awesome.” A glad smile finds its way to his features thinking of his friends. Greatest bros honestly. He’d high five them right now if they were around.

At the question, Chris tilts his head to the side a little to contemplate before tilting his head back when he has something to say. “She’s cool,” he answers. “I dig her vibe. And she’s got a really nice smile. And knows how to have fun.” Cocktail-making shit being absolute proof. Chris nods his head, satisfied with the answer before he lifts his gaze to flash a half-grin at Kat. “Plus, she’s got a really nice ass and totally reminds me of Rihanna in the best ways so like, extra cool.”

#INT ; KAT B.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ofkatherinebishop‌:

“Okay,” she said in a deadpan manner, a little blunt admittedly but she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. A wish list of people that would be cool to fuck? That was definitely the weirdest thing she’d heard somebody say out loud in a while and since she spent most of her time hanging out with Jay Foster, that was a pretty impressive achievement on Chris’ part. “Who’s on it?” she interjected promptly, just in case he wasn’t going to actually reveal the top contenders to her. “What the fuck?” she spoke out of turn once again, cutting into Chris’ words. Sure, she agreed that Gwen was testy, that much was undeniable but Chris’ remedy for it was absolutely disgusting and she didn’t hesitate to let it be known. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard in my entire life, okay- girls don’t need to catch a dick to calm down. In fact, you know all the dick head guys that walk around this school with puffy chests, thinking that can solve the problems of the world with their tiny little cocks is probably one of the reasons she’s so testy, did you ever think about that? Maybe what she actually needs is a break from idiots like you and a break from shit heads talking about her behind her back like she’s not a person,” she added, prodding Chris in the chest lightly. She couldn’t believe she was defending Gwen Prescott but the occasion had called for it.

Offended by the degradation of the conversation, even more than she had been by his offer to fuck before lunch, Kat clicked her tongue disapprovingly at the male and hitched her bag on her shoulder, ready to leave him to his own devices for the rest of forever until he attracted her attention again, “What? Okay, go-” she instructed, waving a hand at Chris, prompting him to hurry up. She was over it now, over him. If he was going to make comments about girls like that then he didn’t deserve Andrea, regardless of whether she’d made it onto his cool to fuck list. “Who is it?” she practically demanded.

Chris only scoffs a little when Kat starts digging into him, going off like she’s the spokesperson for like, women or whatever. He feels as though she’s gotten this all wrong and just needs some perspective on the situation. “Whoa dude, don’t get defensive,” he asks of her. Or offensive. Whatever the right word is. She doesn’t need to be attacking him, talking shit about dick, and getting pokey with his chest. “I totally think Gwen’s a person,” he assures. “And she knows I want to fuck her. We’re really tight,” he even shares because Kat isn’t aware of that. A painful exaggeration, really. One Gwen would be pained to hear at least. One Chris might be in pain for if Gwen were to hear it. But whatevs. Gwen ain’t here and Chris likes to think of her as a buddy. 

“Look, she even said she’d consider it once so you’re barking up the wrong tree. We’re bros.” He clears things up with a shrug. There’s no need for her to give shit and no need for him to get shit. “I don’t even wanna fuck her just to fuck her,” he clarifies, “I wanna fuck her to help her out. I want her to like, feel good for once and not be angry at everything all the time. Sex is just like giving someone a hug but more intense anyway...” At least that’s how he’s always seen it when he’s fucked a bro if they were feeling down. Like yeah sure, at first the idea of fucking Gwen was to fulfill some angry sex fantasy, but then she agreed to tutor him and still continues to do so till this day, and it’s different now. He doesn’t even think about her tits when he jacks off anymore. He hasn’t for a long time. The sex thing is just like, okay, obviously Gwen is hot and it would be pretty lit to fuck her, but it’s less conquest this time and more... bro-fest. He just wants her to not be angry for once, get whatever release she needs to not be so pissed constantly. If it’s sex, breaking plates, or throwing an axe at a wall, whatever. He’ll go through a list if sex doesn’t work. (But it’s usually sex. People just need to be real with themselves.)

“Andrea,” Chris announces with somewhat of a grin and a nod of his head. “Yeah, she’s pretty tight. We hung out at the Barn Party and had a crazy good time. I put a pickle in her cocktail.” He chuckles a little at the memory. And then he remembers, “Oh hey, you’re like bros with her, right? Is she one of the people asking about me?” Because that’d be pretty cool. He’d love to kick it with her more, shoot the shit and whip up more drinks people definitely shouldn’t be putting in their body.

#INT ; KAT B.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ecllas·:

Ella felt a wry grin creep onto the corners of her mouth. “Nerding?” she asked with a raised brow. She was never one to balk at the practice of inventing words. In fact, she thought it was a pity people didn’t do it more often. However, it was the first time in a long time she’d ever been referred to as a nerd. Sure she put in effort and performed well in classes that weren’t based in math or science, but weren’t nerds supposed to be like…brilliantly intelligent? She thought so. And as far as ranks of intelligence, she certainly rarely considered herself a contender of any merit. “If you insist,” she teased. 

His shock amused her, mostly because so many of the people she found literary-minded people to be commonplace, or at least more commonplace than Chris did. Then again, maybe Diana and Katherine weren’t as ‘commonplace’ as she thought. “Yeah. It’s a good time if it’s something you’re into.” Clicked the tip of her pen in and out. “Give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

“Oooooooh, okay,” Ella said, nodding along like she believed him. Boys always talked big at this school, especially ( in her mind ), boys like Christian Gerard. Not that she knew him well enough to truly judge. Typically she’d prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more exciting to think he was capable of doing actual tumbling, but she couldn’t help feeling his landing would have been a little more graceful if he were legit. “Definitely,” Ella nodded in agreement. She spent more than enough time skirting around corners to avoid getting caught by the nuns, but typically it was when she snuck out after hours, not in broad daylight where she could easily be caught. “Seems like you were successful enough,” she jutted her chin to the field ahead of them, not a single black habit in sight. He leaned in and Ella flipped the cover closed on instinct. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but she hated when people looked at her work without permission. Especially when it was unrevised. “Don’t look at it. It’s seriously shitty right now,” she thumbed the pages. “Stories and poems. Reminders are relegated to the planner.” Along with the rest of her significantly less fun responsibilities.

“Yo, I’m serious,” Chris defends himself. He knows that oooooh. He’s a total user of that ooooh. It’s the kind of shit you say when you don’t believe someone. “Bro, I’ve gotten like, medals and shit. I’m totally certified.” He’s not. Or he is. He isn’t sure. He gets handed stuff when he does really well during competitions sometimes but he never actually reads any of the shit he gets.

Despite getting vibes that Ella clearly wants to keep the things in her journal private, Chris’s ignorance powers through and he goes, “Aw, c’mon. It’s not like I’m some, ‘writing president’ or something. I’ll have no idea of it’s good or shit.” Which is very, very true. Chris won’t. He has a hard enough time getting himself interested enough to care about Lit Anal. He can’t imagine caring enough to read literature and care enough to be like, impressed by what he reads. “It’ll just be like seeing it,” Chris points out, hoping to sway her. “Like the writing’s on the pyramids or whatever. Like who the heck knows what that shit means?” Only Special Reading People probably know what it means, all of those... picture things. He’s seen it in a World History textbook before. Apparently, it’s like the Wingdings of the past. Emojis of Egypt if you will.

“Relegated...” He repeats the word. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” check out that professional ass wording, “but doesn’t that shit start with a D?” Delegated? Or maybe this is delegated’s cousin. He’ll have to ask Gwen if relegated is a real word or if Ella is just fucking with him or something because apparently she’s like, English’s number 1 fangirl.

#INT ; ELLA D.

[christianstgerard-blog]

jesssing‌:

Jess was a summer baby, she’d been born in the viscous heat of August and summer was her favorite thing after skateboards and Feeder on repeat. But good God, this weekend was really punching to be unbearable, and Jess was just happy that at SWAT events, she didn’t have to wear long socks and blazers and overheat like she’d just been microwaved. Instead, she got to wear her baggy cut shorts and a shirt that looked like it came straight from Santa Monica circa. Dogtown era, sweat patches and all. 

The zoo was kind of a letdown, but if she was honest, she’d just wanted to get off campus and half-do something that wasn’t BAU related. She was hoping to talk to Sofie again, though, or even Louisa, just about the whole bone thing one more time in case she’d missed something about it. But as Jess attempted to start her mission in looking for the blond and redhead, something else crossed her path quickly, and she probably should have watched where she was going.

Jess wasn’t very squeemish, blood didn’t get to her and after she’d almost torn her whole knee apart when she was eleven, most things didn’t freak her out too much anymore. But as she went too steam-ahead and didn’t pump the breaks fast enough, she collided into Chris by accident and it was not a second later that the smell of shit cloaked over her without any warning. Stepping back, her hands raised to look down at herself. “Oh…. fffffffffuck,” The letter got caught between her teeth and lip, whole body rippling with the urge to vomit because whatever was all over him and now all over her was absolutely revolting in smell, color, and consistency. “Christ on a pitchfork,” She gagged, fists balling as she began to bend over, just in case she did have to throw up. “What is it? What is i- no, actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want,” Another gag, “I don’t wanna know, I’m gonna be friggin’ sick.”

“Dude, what the shit! No--” The words leave him right before she crashes into him, slapping her body with his and taking some of the pig shit with her. Aw, no. Now, they’re both covered in crap. “Awwww, duuuuude.” Chris grimaces, face contorted in discomfort at the sight of her now. “That’s... that’s fucked, bro.” How eloquently put. Like he was pretty freaked for himself but seeing her now, Chris is like, kind of sad for her actually. On the bright side, it totally helps take his mind off of how dank things are getting smell-wise and how he can definitely feel wetness on his legs with how the shit’s soaked through his pants. Ugh, that’s fucking nasty.

“Yo, just-- just don’t look at it or something.” As if that will help with the smell that’s assaulting their noses. “Just-- uh, look at me,” he suggests in his panic, trying to get her from like upchucking because he swears he’s seen some shit like this on Jackass and he doesn’t want a repeat. He had a really good breakfast this morning and he kind of wants to keep it down. Plus, the pigs might get offended if he projectiles crispy strips of their like, cousins or whatever. He tries to direct her gaze upwards by waving toward himself, as if to go: look at me bro, look at me me instead. “Just... pretend it’s like Nutella. It’s just Nutella and definitely not baby pig shit. Because it’s not. At all. It’s just Nutella. With like... stuff in it.” Not that he cares to look down at his pants anymore but he’s sure he caught sight of like, some bits and shit. He’s not sure what the bits are, but there were bits or something in the pig crap.

#INT ; JESS M. #nothing says bonding like two bros covered in poop!

[christianstgerard-blog]

ofkatherinebishop‌:

Yeah, thanks,” she spoke dismissively, trying not to linger on the empowerment speech for too long since, though she certainly appreciated it, she definitely hadn’t earned it. She offered a meager attempt at a smile instead, grimacing at the male more than anything as he spoke in support of her fake lifestyle.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she instructed, she wasn’t about to give up any names, certainly not Gwen’s for fear of being hung drawn and quartered if she did. Not Andrea’s either if Chris had any brain at all…which was admittedly doubtful…he should at least be able to thin of Andrea on his own; she was gorgeous, fun to be around and way, way too good to be sticking her hand down Chris’ pants but alas, Kat totally supported it anyway. “No,” she protested, even though his question very obviously hadn’t warranted a yes or no response, “Hello? I can’t just tell you,” mostly because she had made it all up but also because she didn’t want to sell out the imaginary girls from the common room’s imaginary discussion, “You know- it’s girl code, actually,” she informed him in a tone that made it quite obvious to anybody that she considered herself the intellectual superior in this particular pairing, “I’m just asking and you can tell me,” she instructed him, offering absolutely nothing in return to incentivize the male. When she realized this, she figured she better even out the playing field just a little bit, “I could help, probably, I’m friends with everyone,” it was another lie but not the first in the conversation and who was keeping count, anyway? Certainly not Katherine, she was on a roll, in her opinion.

Ohhhh, girl code. He’s not totally familiar with that. Chris is actually not sure at all what it entails. Is it just like a set of rules that say they have to braid each other’s hair and eat ice cream together when bad things happen? Nevertheless, the Seton junior tries his best to wrack his brain for an answer. “Well, I’m not really into anyone,” he explains without confidence, unsure what Kat wants from him. “I do have a like a wish list of people who’d be cool to fuck though.” A casual shrug from his shoulder when he says it. “Gwen’s up there, but it’s not really like I’m into her. I just think she’ll really calm down if she gets a good fucking. Like, she’s so testy,” a word he isn’t allowed to use around Gwen anymore, “like all the time.” Seriously. “And I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s not getting any.” He sighs like he just told Kat that Gwen has a disease that’s killing her or something. But he’s sure his diagnosis of her is correct. No one’s mad once they’ve gotten their rocks off. Ever. You must really suck at doing your job if someone walks away more pissed off than before.

"Is that the kind of stuff you want?” Chris asks then. “It’s not like a crush or anything, but I do think it’d be to tap her like at least once.” Like you have to see the Eiffel Tower at least once before you die. Or something else. He just knows people who really like the Eiffel Towel and would probably cream themselves to be in front of it.

Feeling as though he hasn’t sufficiently provided Kat with what she’s been looking for, Chris scours his noggin’ a little more. He knows he doesn’t have any crushes. Just girls he thinks are cool-- “Wait!” His head snaps up from where its lowered in thought. As if he’s had a eureka moment. “I have one! I remember!”

#INT ; KAT B.

[christianstgerard-blog]

Being at the zoo is awesome. Sure, it’s a billion fucking degrees, but he’s slapped sunblock on his face and got a hat on (backwards) so basically nothing can stop him. He hits just about everywhere he could, excitedly going from one place to the next with whatever student he can get to tag along with him. Of course, that is until they get to the pot-bellied pigs. Like, it’s cute as shit and super awesome. Chris gets to say hi to all the little grunting porkies and even hang out with some of them, at least like the little baby ones. He’s got one little dude in his arms, and maybe he misgendered it or something because soon enough, the smelly fucker shits all over his lap.

“What the fuck--” He’s quick to lean away from the piglet, instantly overwhelmed by the growing mass of steaming ass sludge that shoots out of the once-adorable little fucker. He whips his head up, eyes bewildered at the zoo-keeper who stares at him just as wide-eyed and shocked about the matter. Louie, or so he was told before he took hold of the piglet, is taken away and Chris is ushered out of the pen and to the closest nun in charge. “What do I do?” He asks desperately, terribly grossed out by the state of his cream-colored joggers. “It stinks and it’s like, seeping through my pants and stuff!” His face is twisted into a look of utter disgust, chest puffing up and down rapidly in his panic before he results to whining childishly.

To his misfortune, the sister just does the sign of the cross hurriedly and tells him to stay put  while she figure this out and gets help. Help? He thought she was the help! He turns to the closest student. “Dude, what the fuck. You gotta help me,” he begs, unstable to stand the hot brown mush splattered all over his lap.

#bahq:start #ur welcome #also ignore the... claws?? #imagine chris having acrylics lmao #he would think they're awesome but immediately have his ass sent to the ER because he thinks he can use them to climb

[christianstgerard-blog]

#the best his hair has ever looked and the hair u should always picture chris having tbh #i should headcanon that he like always has a scrape on his face or some bandage on bc he's stupid enough to injure himself weekly #if not daily #CHRIS – VISAGE.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ecllas·:

In any other situation, Ella would have agreed. Maybe even egged him on. But the fact that she was definitely going to get a bruise on her hip that every single person on the swim team was going to ask her about was already annoying her and it hadn’t even happened yet. “I guess,” she replied. She fiddled with the cover of her notebook before glancing up at Chris again. “It was okay,” she said, wondering if he’d realize she was egging him on or blindly run into the challenge. “I’ve definitely seen bigger tumbles with cleaner landings. But like, yours was still okay.”

Ella snorted. She wasn’t entirely sure if she’d really just heard the words that came out of his mouth or if she’d hit her head on the tree harder than she thought. Although, he did have a point. There wasn’t anything more fucked or baller than learning. Especially when she cared about the subject. “Thanks, I think?”

She knew who he was. She’d seen him at the barn party and running around with the Broadripple Boys Club on more than one occasion. But admitting she knew him when he didn’t know her felt embarrassing, so she played along. “I’m Ella,” she lifted up the notebook for him to see, “not right now. But I do read for fun. Shocking, I know. Actually, I’m just writing. What about you? Were you just throwing yourself through the grass for the fun of it?”

“Uh, you’re welcome I guess?” He doesn’t really know what to say in this type of situation. “Do you. Keep nerding.” It’s probably not that, but he wants her to know there’s no hate on his side for her super lame hobbies. You can be a loser if you want to be a loser. Some people really get off on that.

Ella. Okay, he’ll remember that. It’ll be easy. He’ll just keep in mind that super awesome Rihanna song. Ella, ella, ella, ay, ay, ay, ay. Fuckin’ classic. God, Rihanna is so hot. Coolest chick on the planet. But he’s getting sidetracked. “Totally.” Shocking, that is. And he means that. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone who reads for fun ever. Unless you count his aunt. But she’s like in her 30s and with two kids so basically it’s the only fun she’s allowed to have. “Wait, you’re writing? For... fun?” Whoa, this chick is hardcore. 

At what he thinks is a jab, Chris scoffs a little, albeit there’s a smile on his lips. “Dude, that was really shitty representation of me. I’m normally like waaay better at this stuff, I was just trying to outrun some nuns. You know, like people do.” Or is that just him? “What kind of stuff do you write?” His attention whips back to her journal and apparent hobby quickly, even leaning over a little like that will in some way help him figure out what she’s jotting down before she actually tells him. “Like reminders? Or stories?” He knows people do that sometimes. Even for a living. That’s why the world has books.

#INT ; ELLA D.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ofkatherinebishop·:

“I’m a vegetarian,” she announced plainly, she knew that wasn’t the point but she felt like it needed to be clear, lest Chris actually thinks it’s a good idea to stick fresh meat in anybody’s track shorts. Then, a moment later it occurred to her that this wasn’t the only occasion during this conversation that he was going to discuss sticking meat in her pants. Gross.

“What? No,” she barked at him, offended by the implication that she even think about hooking up with him, let alone in between now and lunchtime as if she didn’t have better things to do with her life. Then she remembered that Andrea was into him and she needed to assure him that she wasn’t interested without implying that he was repulsive, as in too repulsive for her friend. Despite the look on her face, she softened and cleared her throat, relenting a little as her voice became less shrill and more matter-of-fact, “-but thank you, I’m just-” more inclined to the idea of sticking pins in my eyes than pre-lunch BJs with you. She didn’t know why she had thanked him for offering something so absurd but her gratitude had set her off balance and now she’d forgotten what she was going to say or how she was going to phrase herself, “Gay,” she decided impulsively and then realized she needed to move on from that as swiftly as possible “Anyway- uh- so the girls in the common room were just playing a game and talking about all the boys and we came to you and then realized, oh my god, we don’t even know if he’s like- seeing somebody or interested in somebody so, I thought I’d just ask like…maybe you have a little crush or something?” she asked in a direct manner with eyebrows raised.

Uhh, okay? Chris thought vegetarians didn’t eat meat but apparently they can’t touch meat too? That’s inconvenient. But also pretty cool to know. Maybe he and Dylan should go around waving around sticks of bacon to freak some vegetarians out sometime. That’ll be a fun weekend activity when things get boring. He wonders if Kat is scared of bacon. Or maybe a tomahawk is more terrifying? Where the hell is going to get a cut of tomahawk? He doubts Nighmore sells anything like that.

hris's faces scrunches up at her rejection, confused. Then why ask if he has a girlfriend? But then she tells him. Ohh. She’s gaaay. Right. “Oh, tight,” he says with a nod of his head. Then he adds, “Power to you,” after a beat. Because he doesn’t want her to think he’s not like, cool with gay people. He’s from New York -- the city -- and they have like a billion sexual orientations there. Just because he’s attending this Bible-loving school doesn’t mean he’s like, a hater of the gays. He’s fucked a guy before. Like more than one. Not at the same time, but like he’s done it. It was a pretty tight experience too. Like not just the asses, but like as a whole collective, uhhh, memory? It was good times. Real bro bonding.

“A crush?” He tilts his head a little. “Uhhh, like on who?” He’s confused by the way she phrases it. “Oh, like if I have a crush on anyone? I mean, not really,” he admits with a shrug of his shoulders. Off the top of his head, he can’t really think of anyone he’s got like the sweaty hand feelings for. Just people he thinks are super bomb physically and worth fucking. And maybe hanging with too if they don’t want to bite his head off. It happens a lot, especially when he’s around Dylan. “Who’s asking about me? Just like, all the girls in the dorm or like... some of them?” Names would be really helpful.

#INT ; KAT B.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ofkatherinebishop·:

“Oh my God, hello? You could have broken my neck,” Katherine scolded brashly when she came to a standstill, the moment her path was abruptly blocked, though it was arguably more apparent that Chris could have broken his neck.

“Hi,” she greeted in response to his ‘sup,’ a moment later, her pitch still high and her tone still laced with irritation as she spat the words out, clutching her books to her chest. “We have track this afternoon, do you think maybe you could try not to break your legs and mine too before we have to meet? The team is already pretty shit,” it wasn’t necessarily bad but Katherine was angry at their captain, Ben Martos and she was taking any and every opportunity to express it where she could.

“Actually- hi,” she greeted him again as if doing so would award them a fresh start, the moment she realized she could actually use him at that very moment. A peace offering of sorts, she reached out to the male with an open hand to help him up. “I want to ask you about something,” she informed him, in case he had any plans of abandoning her in the next four seconds or so. “Do you have a girlfriend- or anything?”  anything like a Gwen, perhaps.

Holy fuck, it’s like a seagull being strangled to death. If Chris didn’t have a head pain after that, he sure does now. “Well shit, it’s not like I saw you, dude. My b, okay?” He’ll tell her anything to calm her down because that bitch is loud.

He bobs his head when she returns his greeting. It’s Casper. Like, he knows that’s not her name, but it’s what he calls her in his head anyway. She reminds him of the ghosts in Pacman when she runs around the track with him. The thought of it actually contorts Chris’s lips into a bit of a smile but Casper quickly pisses on his parade, bringing up Track’s shitty-ish record. “It’s ‘cause you guys run like you’ve never had to ditch the cops before. Ben’s just gotta put some meat in all of your pants and let a hungry dog go after you.” And it’s ideas like that why people should make sure Chris is never put in a position of authority.

He’s easing himself up when Kat repeats herself, but like in a nicer way kind of? Is she like brain dead? But who is he to hate on someone who wants to say ‘hi’ twice? Maybe Kat’s just never had a lot of opportunities to say ‘hi’ to people before. So instead of shitting on her, he takes her hand, kind of worried her skinny ass can’t do much to help him up on his feet but it’s like the thought that counts or whatever. He’s actually surprised when skin meets skin and his hand doesn’t just like, completely go through hers. He uses the help to pull himself up, getting on his feet only to dust himself off and then kind of frown in confusion when Kat asks him if he has a girlfriend. He flicks his gaze away from his grass-stained shirt to look at her, features still twisted some.

“No...” He answers warily. “Why? You lookin’ to fuck?” He makes kind of a face. “'Cause I have to eat lunch soon...” And he doesn’t want to miss out on getting a slice of cake.

#INT ; KAT B.

[christianstgerard-blog]

ecllas·:

God, he sounded like her little brother but at least five times more annoying. At least her little brother would have had the decency to apologize. And he was just thirteen. Christian pulled himself up from the ground, languidly reclining back against the tree like one of the models in the renaissance paintings. Normally she would have admired his ability to, quite literally, roll with the punches, but the pain throbbing in her side challenged any amusement she might have had for his recklessness.

“I mean, probably. I’ve never seen it happen, but it only makes sense. Like, it’s probably in our rights as students to be able to petition for things like new clubs or sports.” If they didn’t it would be complete bullshit. It would completely infringe on their first amendment rights, wouldn’t it? 

Ella raised her eyebrow as if to say, you think I don’t know that? “Well, you take falling to the extreme don’t you?” In fact, tripping was an understatement too. He’d practically launched himself across the grass like a stunted rocket. Yet, his offhanded mention of thanks, no matter how facetious, made her smile in spite of her best efforts. She looked away from him, trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing his antics had been even remotely funny. 

“No,” Ella replied, stretching across the grass to reach for her journal. She brushed off the chunks of grass stuck to the corners. “Actually I’m in Creative Writing, but sometimes Mr. Schwartz lets me participate in lectures I’m interested in.” Like the discussions on The Great Gatsby, The Iliad, and To Kill a Mockingbird.

“Hm...” Chris hums thoughtfully. Hearing this puts all sorts of ideas in his head. He’ll have to tell Dylan this and maybe they can scrounge up some details for like, a paintball gun group. Because you know what would make studying in the middle of nowhere with a shit ton of space and trees fun? Paintball guns. Chris isn’t sure about anybody else, but he’s one-hundo percent sure being able to blast someone with a paint-filled pellet would make his days more interesting.

“Go big or go home I guess,” he decides with a shrug. It might have been an accident and like really intense, but now that he’s thinking about it, it was a pretty legit tumbling. He wonders if anyone got it on Snapchat.

Oh. He swears he’s seen her or maybe he’s just like, confusing people together and shit. But ohhhh! So she is in the class! Well, sometimes. Whatever. He’s not wrong then. Learning he’s correct sparks some energy in Chris, mouth twitching into a quick smile as he scoots up to rest a little higher against the tree. “Kinda fucked up that you wanna study stuff you’re not supposed to but that’s kind of baller too I guess.” It’s like his pal Toby who went on YouTube and spent like 15 hours learning how to make balloon origami (or balloon twisting or whatever it’s actually called). Like, he didn’t have to do that shit but it’s pretty cool to know someone now that could make Chris a balloon sword whenever he wanted. He guesses in this chick’s case it’s like lamer than balloon shapes-making but whatever. Maybe it’s just something she likes. Which is totally lame. Who likes books? It’s like the most boring version of movies ever.

But anyway, “I’m Chris,” he tells her, stretching out his hand. He feels like he knows her but he doesn’t know her-know her so an introduction feels necessary. “Whatcha got there?” As always, his attention is quick to shift, nodding his head at the journal in Ella’s hands. “Are you like, reading? ...For fun?”

#INT ; ELLA D.

[christianstgerard-blog]

#big chris and dyl energy #CHRIS – MUSINGS.

[christianstgerard-blog]

walsh-louisa·:

It took Louisa a second to recognize the rolling mass of teenage boy as Chris St. Gerard and another second or two to realize that the last time she’d actually spoken to the guy, she’d jokingly propositioned him to public sex on a sticky drinks table and then ditched him to hang out with Sofie and laugh at Chris’ expense. It took much longer than that, however, to stop herself from laughing at his ridiculous tumble…as long as he wasn’t seriously injured or whatever. 

“I’m totally not laughing at you, I’m-” she was absolutely laughing at him and she only managed to cover her face with her hand ever so slightly to feebly disguise it, “Hey” she greeted instead of making excuses for herself, unsure of whether to check him for concussion or bail on the situation completely. “You good?” she asked with an eyebrow raised in a curious manner, a skeptical tone of voice coloring her words as she used the side of her school shoe to nudge the bags over to the wall, lest a second person attempt to snap their neck in half on them.

Chris is so busy shaking off that rough tumble that he barely registers who it is speaking to him. It’s only after he’s brushed some grass out of his hair that he really turns his head to give them a proper look and his eyes go as wide as saucers when he does. “Louisa!” He forgets all about the potential head trauma he might have and the bruises he's now probably sporting and like, bear hugs the shit out of her, pulling her smack against him. “Dude, what the fuck--” He even cradles her head a little like she’s one of those new humans where if you touch the wrong spot on their head, they die. “I thought you died, holy shit.”

When she didn’t come back to the table, he thought the worst. Of course, he was worried about it. But then like, he chugged a drink to calm himself down, and then downed a shot after just to chase it, and like a pill worked his way into his mouth at one point to rid of the anxiety and then he just like forgot she disappeared all together. It totally wasn’t his fault. The calming down just worked a little too hard. He pulls away, hands on her arms, and gets a good look at her. Two eyes, two ears, one nose... She’s got her legs and arms. She’s fine! Oh yay, she’s fine. Thank fuck.

“Bro, seriously... I’m so glad you’re okay.” He tugs her into a crushing hug again, probably restricting airflow but like she’s a homie come back to life, he’s so relieved. It’s like finding your phone after forgetting it at the mall or something. The chances of going back there and finding it in the same place are really fricken’ slim. It's one in a million that she's here and breathing again.

#INT ; LOUISA W.

[christianstgerard-blog]

nicodigiovanni·:

“Yeah exactly man.” He was right, besides it wasn’t justlike the issues were school grades. Nico had to be fucking excellent at leastat something or it was like his life was worth nothing. Always on top of hisgame. And let’s say that his grades weren’t exactly top of the game material,at least he could keep afloat with a miraculous B or two here and there…Until the party, then he got so much more distracted and could not seem like hecould catch a break. At least he still had sports. And even that would notamount to much if he didn’t get to college.

“Still you get a D once a century and it becomes a fuckingepic tragedy am I right?” Well it kinda was? College requirements weren’texactly generous if your grades didn’t match, athletics skills or not. 

“What the fuck you doing on the roof?” He chuckled and raisedhis brow. Now the better question would have probably been why the hell he wasfollowing him, but Nico knew Chris, whatever that was his buddy probably wasn’tthere to eavesdrop. Maybe he just wanted some weed… 

Domenico shook his head. Did his buddy really think that hewas there for his academics? Yeah he wished. “It’s sports too… I mean kinda the new Ronaldo here youknow?” He grinned. “Not like a certain someone.*”He playfully teased, well they were both attackers on Broadripple soccer team and truth was Chris waspretty much as good as Nico on the field, but that didn’t mean that they boyswould not throw some friendly jab at each other on the matter.

A shame that soccer wasn’t as rewarding as football here inthe USA. Fuck playing for one of those euro teams would have been amazing. 

Yeah… The excuse have been lame hadn’t it? “I mean, sports,they would rather me be some kind of Nerd or something.” He lied. It was notlike he was going to fully come clean with Chris. He had been lying for toolong about how things were with his family finances and how it made him feel too ashamedto open himself up. He threw another rock down the creek, more angrily thistime. 

“Great.” He replied enthusiastically. He always foundamazing how Chris appeared so fucking clumsy at times, while showing impressiveagility when he wanted. “Let’s go on the rescue then.” He grinned, stood up from therailing and begun looking for a place where he could get the right footing andclimb down. “Coming?”

Once a century? How about literally all of the time? Chris still lets out something of a scoff and agrees though, because Nico seems like he needs the backing and he thinks he kind of gets it even if his dad has long given up having a reaction whenever Chris does... well, anything, really. Good, bad, whatever. He thinks the dude is just tired of having to deal with him. Actually, he pretty much knows that and has overheard it like, at least once or maybe twice.

“Just chillin’,” Chris admits with a shrug, “the ush.” High places are Chris’s go-to spot. It would have been better if he was high in high places but that’s where the need for Nico comes in. “I had a straw and like, a piece of paper.” Or rather a worksheet he totally tanked on and needed to destroy before Gwen ripped him a new one. “Figured I’d be set to hang up there for a bit but then it was like super hot, and I was like, what would make this better?” It not being hot, a super-sized Slushee, a giant umbrella, maybe some sunglasses, two water guns, and like a giant snow leopard with a collar that translates animal-speak into human-speak. “And then I saw you going in the woods and remembered you usually have shit on you and you know, you know the rest.” Because weed is probably easier to get his hands on than half of those things.

Chris doesn’t mind the jab. Like, he likes soccer. It’s totally chill and he’ll go ham when he needs to, but it’s not like, a big deal to him to be the best. It’s not even what he’s here for. It’s sort of a special deal, him being at this school. The whole arrangement was worked out by his dad and his coach, so he doesn’t really know what’s going on but he knows it’s chill if he has to leave sometimes to compete or whatever. 

“I mean, being a nerd isn’t bad,” Chris starts. “Like it’s fucking lame, but it’s not bad. They’re probably why we have Internet.” Also, Google. Chris doesn’t know what he’d do without Google.

“Yeah, right behind you, man,” the junior agrees easily, pushing off to get up on his feet. Climbing down should be a breeze. It’s pretty straightforward, honestly. Just easing yourself down some rocks and dirt and like, the tree that peeks out of it. “You know, I could just get it for you, man,” he offers before they make a move to go any further. “Just tell me where it is.” A beat. “Like, yell. While I’m doing it,” he clarifies. Guide Chris is what he’s trying to say but apparently isn’t articulate enough to explain that.

#INT ; NICO D.