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reimagining-twilight · 2 years

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Chapter One First Sight Part One -Bella

Bella’s “friends” all have different names than there Twilight counterparts because she’s in grade 12 not 11 but they still act the exact same way.

Niki Ford - Jesica Stanley

Geraldine (Geri) Wright - Angela Weber

Tristan Reid - Mike Newton

Jose - Eric Yorkie

Eliot (Eli) Chang -Tyler Crowley

See end for more notes-

I shiver, the cafeteria is freezing this January. It was my idea to join the population of Forks High School for the new year and I’m sitting in a cafeteria with people I don’t really know. Their eys drill holes all over my body, cutting me out like a slice of swiss cheese. They’re all staring at me, I feel sick and try to find a place to look where I won’t meet a pair of curious eyes, after a good bit of searching I find them.

Five beautiful high schoolers. Yes, I say beautiful high schoolers and, no, I don’t think it’s possible either, but they are beautiful, strikingly, inhumanely, devastatingly, beautiful.

There they sit, not talking not eating, staring at the wall but seeing nothing. They are pale with angular features, almost black dark eyes with circles under them, a bronze-haired boy with a petit pixie like girl sitting in his lap; a big burly boy with dark curly hair who looks old enough to be in college, or maybe even a teacher; two blonds, a girl and a boy, the girl who clung to the burly boy is a familiar face from my Trig and Spanish class. The boy, now that I think about it, I had also seen, sitting in the back of the Biology room quietly drawing on a sketch pad. I hadn’t even noticed him there.

They are all inhumanly beautiful but that isn’t what holds my attention. While they all look different, they all have the same perfect pale angular features and pure black eyes. it’s safe to stare at them. For once I’m staring at someone, then I feel bad, I can’t do that it’s rude espcially given how much I hate it when they do it to me. They are the only ones not staring at me, the new girl, the curiosity, the freak.

Their lips are moving and I can swear they are talking to each other but I can’t hear a thing.

I want to respect their privacy but they, sitting at their table in the back, are outsiders like me and finally my curiosity gets the better of me, pushing me forward into conversation.

“Hey, Niki!” I say tuning back into the conversation. She seems surprised at my sudden alertness.

“Yeah?”

“Who are they?” I thought maybe I should clarify who I meant but she is already glancing over to their table.

“Well, they’re Dr. & Mrs. Cullen’s kids. Mrs. Cullen is the orchestra teacher. They kinda keep to themselves. The redhead is Edward. He’s absolutely gorgeous, but he’s with the little one, Alice,” she informs me with jealousy.

“Are they all Cullens? They don’t look related,” I say hesitantly, hating to pry but really curious.

“Oh, no, some of them are foster kids. Dr. Cullen and his wife are in their late forties or something, but they adopted because Mrs. Cullen can’t have kids anymore or something. Those two, Rosalie and Jasper, are actually Cullens, but for some reason they have Mrs. Cullen’s maiden name. The rest are adopted,” Niki explained, pointing to the twins in turn.

“She’s pretty. He's . . . weird,” she says, keeping it brief, as if she doesn't really care for much about the twins. Her obsession is obviously with Edward. She turns to briefly ogle him again and I wondered about her hesitation before.

She continues, “and the big one is Emmet. He’s with Rosalie—like with with. They’re like a thing. They’re all dating even though they live together. I'm not even sure that’s legal.”

“Niki, they’re not actually related,” someone to my left reminded her gently.

“Well legally . . . Whatever, it’s weird. Dr. Cullen is like this foster dad slash matchmaker,” Niki offers.

“Maybe he’ll adopt me too,” A blond girl I don’t know pipes up hopefully.

“They’re all hot! I bet Dr. Cullen does plastic surgery on them,” Niki whispers.

They way these kids gossip, when they think the Cullens can’t hear! I know they can’t be oblivious, but how much do they know and how much do they care? High school is hard enough without being treated like an exotic animal, an anomaly. I suddenly feel intense sympathy for them and then empathy. They, at their table in the back like me, are outsiders

Feeling bad for the Cullens and curious myself, I try to steer the conversation back to a nicer topic. “Well I think that it’s nice of Mr. and Mrs. Cullen to take care of all the kids. Have they always lived here?” I ask. Surely I would’ve noticed them during one of my summer visits, especially the tall blond boy and his striking sister.

“No,” Niki says. “They moved here from up north somewhere … Alaska I think, about 2 years ago.”

I turned to look at the girl. Rosalie, Niki says her name is, and she is right. She is pretty, not just pretty, stunning, glamorous, like something out of a magazine. Not just that but she is the kind of pretty that makes everyone in the room feel a little less than and she is staring, or should I say glowering, right at me.

Her boyfriend, the big burly one, Emmett, grabs her arm and pulls her in for a long kiss. I stopped watching them then and turn my eyes to her brother, Jasper.

He is beautiful too, as all of them are, but even sitting down I can tell he is taller than most of the others, except for maybe Emmet. Leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. His hair is slightly longer than that of his brothers, those honey blond locks coming to a stop just below his chin. He is also looking away from his siblings’ make out session, his face in a book. The title is written in Latin as far as I can tell. He has a soothing aura and by just looking at him I feel a strange calm wash over me.

He is staring intensely at the book as if it held all the answers to life, or somehow like he is desperately trying not to look up. I shove the thought aside.

He must know somehow that I’m looking at him because he looks up from his book and right at me. His expression is neutral as he studies me for a Moment and I can’t look away. Then he turns back to his book as if nothing had ever happened.

I try to go back to my lunch but everyone is talking over one another and Tristan keeps up a constant string of questions about my life in Arizona. The only one I’m able to find solace in is a shy girl to my left, Geri, the one who’d reminded Niki that the Cullens aren’t technically related. She is in my Biology class, never saying much, but usually having the answer if a teacher calls on her.

I try not to think about the Hales and focus on my conversation with Geri about the new U.S History elective. I got A’s but it has always been somewhat boring to me. We chatted more about the teachers and she told me she had two little brothers named Trip and Tanner and a dog named Lucy.

“Here let me show you, I think I have a picture from last Christmas in my wallet,” Geri says and I scoot to let her dig through her bag. She pulls out a picture of 9 people and a golden retriever all wearing ugly Christmas jumpers. “Ah! Here it’s . Those are my parents. Off to the side are Nana and Grandpa, my Mom's parents. There are Grandad and Mimi, my dad’s parents,. Aaaaand that’s me. The one to my left is Trip and the one to my right is Tanner. That's Lucy. She's still just a puppy. We got her for the twins' birthday in September.”

I don’t look at the Cullens or Hales until I see them leaving the cafeteria disposing of, with utmost grace, five trays of untouched food. I allow myself to look at Jasper again, but he doesn't look at me. In fact, I sware he is trying to look anywhere but at me, but I tell myself that it’s obviously my imagination.

The bell rings dismissing me to my next class. It crosses my mind that maybe I should skip. I do hate it here after all and I’m still thinking about it as I walk slowly to my locker.

Finally I make my way to building 6 for History, glad I studied the map. When I enter, I see the class is set up like a college classroom with half rings of desks lining the room and a rotating white board in the front. Despite my map memorization, I’m one of the last in class and all the seats have already been assigned so I stumble toward a seat in the very back.

To my absolute horror I catch my foot on the leg of a desk. I’m falling for barely a second before a pair of cold hands catch me, steadies me then vanishes. I don’t even see who they belong to. Grateful, I slide into the nearest empty seat.

I quickly lug my heavy history textbook out of my bag, opening it to the page number written on the board. It's a few seconds before I looks up to see who my table mate is and when I do I find myself staring straight at Jasper Hale.

I can feel my face heating up, the blush spreading from my cheeks down my neck and up to the tips of my ears, despite the fact that he isn’t even looking at me. In fact he is facing almost directly away from me, his body rigid and tensed in his chair which is angled so far away from me that he is almost crashing into Alyiah Winters, the girls basketball team captain, whom I share Spanish class with. Ayliah gives him a look and scoots closer to her girlfriend, a ginger girl named Annie whom I recognise from Trig.

A few minutes into class Mr Jefferson says, “Now that you’ve completed your warm up please turn to the next page. There you will see a blank timeline. Please fill it out with what you know. I will be calling on people to come write their answers on the board.”

Students all around me busy their pencils and my table mates and I follow suit. After just a few minutes I have every space filled except for number 5. Oh well, someone else probably has it. The rest of the time Jasper stays tense, and I watch through my periphery to see if he will relax his stiff posture but he never does.

About 6 minutes later a nasally sounding chicken-shaped kitchen timer rings and Mr. Jefferson claps the class to attention, “Alright, who has the answer to number one? Raise your hands.” A boy I know by the name of Eli Chang raises his hand cautiously. “Yes, Eli, what is the answer to number 1?”

He hesitates, “I think … James Knox Polk, James Knox Polk is the president in 1848 . . . I think.”

“You think . . . Or you know?” Mr Jefferson asks.

“Ummm, I know,” Eli rephrased, more confident than before but still wary.

“Good! You are correct. Come write that on the board.” Mr. Jefferson says and Eli lets out a breath of relief. As Eli walks to the board Mr. Jefferson continues, “James Knox Polk is the 11th president of the United States, serving from 1845 to 1849. He previously was the 13th Speaker of the House of Representatives and ninth governor of Tennessee. A protégé of Andrew Jackson, he was a member of the Democratic Party and an advocate of Jacksonian democracy.”

This continued as Mr Jefferson worked his way around the room, “Now who has the answer to number 5?”

Only one person raised a hand, Tristan Reid, who looks confidently at Mr. Jefferson. “The Fugitive Slave Act” he says almost smugly.

We wait in silence for a few seconds. Finally Mr. Jefferson speaks solemnly. Knowing him, it can go either way. “Passed on September 18, 1850 by Congress,” we all stopped holding our breath, “the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 is part of the Compromise of 1850. The Act required that slaves be returned to their owners, even if they are in a free state. The Act also made the federal government responsible for finding, returning, and trying escaped slaves. I'm sorry, Tristan,” you are incorrect. Now does anyone else want to try?” Jasper coughs intensely into his sleeve, maybe he’s just sick. Yes, that has to be it. He has a cold and isn’t in the mood for people in general. it isn’t just me, it can’t be just me. Right? Tristan hides his head in his textbook and returns to his work shamefaced.

Jasper, who is still tensed up, raises his hand. He coughs again and I swear I can see the beginnings of a smile on his face. Is he okay? The entire class turns to face our row. Even Mr. Jefferson looks surprised but calls on him anyway.

I don’t exactly think that his behaviour is at all sociable but I at least want to try and make conversation. Not to mention I’m kind of worried a little bit, maybe more though for his sanity than his health. He coughs again. it’s a sort of choked off sound, almost like . . . laughter. I drum up all my courage

“Are you okay?”

He looks up, annoyed, I resist my instincts to hide my face in my textbook. “I’m fine, thank you,” he says sharply. it’s kind of ironic. He coughs again, but it at least sounds less severe this time. I’m not sur eif his answer was truthful but the conversation was mercifully short so I won’t push it any further

“Yes Mr. Hale, do you have the answer to number 5?”

With a dry voice he says, “Yes I do. The answer is 1852, the year that the book called Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published. It was written by Harriet Beecher Stowe at the age of 41 before her death in 1896 at the age of 85.” You could hear a pin drop. The entire class is wide eyed at the specificity of the answer. “I have a headache. May I please go to the nurse now?” Jasper ends his answer as if the request were his intent all along. I'm amazed but I can’t help feeling sympathetic for him.

Mr. Jefferson hesitated, “Yes, of course . . .” he stuttered, but Jasper had already left.

When Jasper is out of the room Mr. Jefferson continues, “Mr. Hale is correct, The year 1852 is when Uncle Tom’s Cabin is published. It helped further the cause of Black activism, and even Abraham Lincoln recognized that this book's publication is one of the events that led to the outbreak of the Civil War. Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896) published more than 30 books, but it’s this, her best-selling anti-slavery novel, that catapulted her to international celebrity and secured her place in history.”

History seems to drag on forever, the teacher droning on about the events of the early 1850s. Jasper never comes back to class. I try to take notes but I can’t focus. My brain ignored the perfectly reasonable explanation right in front of me and the questions buzzed around in my head. Why had Jasper left so suddenly? A nagging voice at the back of my head can’t help thinking that it’s because of me, but of course that is impossible, he doesn’t know me from Eve.

When the bell rings, I pick up my history textbook, stuff it back into my bag and head towards the door.Suddenly someone grabs my arm, shaking a wet rain slicker out and soaking me. “Hey, Arizona, how you likin’ the rain gurlll?” Tristan appears in front of me.

My brain freezes up I don’t know what to say to that. After an awkward since I stutter out a belated “Ahh, Tristan, please don’t do that again.”

“Sorry Bella, I just wanted to get your attention,” he looks at the floor, “so, uh, what’s your next class? I can walk you there, so you don’t get lost! B-because it’s your first day and all.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I say quietly, trying to be diplomatic, “but it’s English with Mr. Mason all the way across campus in building 3. You don’t have to go out of your way for me in the rain.”

“No it’s okay, English is my next class too! I’ll be happy to walk with you!” he says, excited by this idea. He is coming to remind me of a golden retriever.

On the way to building 3 Tristan keeps up a nonstop commentary. He is easy to be with, supplying most of the conversation, and I mostly tuned out Tristan’s constant chatter. But one bit catches my attention.

“Did you hit Hale over the head with a textbook or something? I know he has like anxiety disorder or something, but I’ve never seen him be that weird”

Anxiety Disorder? Could it be that he was like me? I knew I shouldn’t have judged him, but I have to gte more information so I play dumb. “Who?”

“Jasper Hale, didn’t you notice?” He asks in disbelief

“Oh, I was really focused on the lecture. Is that the boy I sat next to?” I ask.

“Yes, I saw you talking to him,” he accused.

Crap! “Oh that’s right, I asked if he was okay. He had a cold or something. I don’t blame him for being grumpy.”

“Yeah, he looked like someone had just stabbed him. It was weird, but he kind of always looks like that. Anyway, here we are,” Tristan says as we arrive in front of building 3.

English passes in a blur and soon I’m headed back to the front office to turn in the slips that my teachers had signed. When I get to the office I almost walk back out again.

Jasper Hale is standing at the front desk arguing with the receptionist, Ms. . Cope I think her name is. I stand in a corner waiting for Ms. Cope to be free and listen to the conversation. I quickly understand that he is asking to change 6th hour History for another class, any other class.

What happened next seems so small it should have been inconsequential. A girl opened the door to the office. A gust of strong wind blasted past me, causing goosebumps on my arms. The girl simply places a paper in one of the wire baskets and then walks back out again.

But what happened next, that is a different matter entirely. Jasper’s back stiffens and he turns around to glare at me in utter rage! His face is inhumanly beautiful but with eyes full of hate. The look is so menacing that I swear he wants to rip me to pieces. Surely there is nothing this boy can do to me that would hurt me, but at that Moment I’m not so sure. It only lasts a second but it feels like my blood is turned to ice.

He turns back Ms. Cope. “Forget it. I can see that this isn’t feasible,” he snaps. “Enjoy your day,” and with that he turns and walks out the door, not giving me a second glance.

I refuse to believe that this can have anything to do with me. It must have been something else, something that had happened just before I got in the room. I was late after all.

I walk shyly up to the desk and Ms. Cope took the slips smiling at me, “Did you enjoy your first day, sweetheart, make any friends?”

“It was fine, everyone is really nice,” I say. I’ve never been a great liar and it doesn't help that my voice is still shaking from the encounter.

“Oh good. I hope you enjoy your time with us here in Forks,” she says and reminding me suddenly of a hotel clerk.

“I will, thanks,” I say waving as I step out into the cold.

The rain had died down a bit, but everything is still surrounded by a cold omnipresent fog, from which I happily escape into my truck cabin. When I get inside, the seat is a bit cold but dry and that’s as much as I can ask for in this rainy place.

I can’t do anything but stare out the windshield for a few minutes. The image of Jasper’s hateful glare wouldn’t leave me, but finally I begin to shiver so I turn the ignition key. My truck roars to life and heat fills the cabin.

I leave the school car park fighting tears. Despite my protestations, a single tear drips down my cheek, and, fighting more tears, I drive the familiar road back to Charlie’s house.

NOTES: still in the long and arduous editing process but I thought I’d go ahead and post it so hope you liked it.

you all know the chicken timers I’m talking about, don’t lie. also don’t you hate it when teachers ask do that do you think or know thing. Google helped with this one, obviously.

#Twilight Reimagined: Jasper x Bella #chapter 1 #Chapter One First Sight Part One #bella swan pov #first sight #cullen-cannons

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luwritesomething · 2 years

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RIFF HEADCANONS !!

riff is a horrible person and i do not condone his actions but mike's portrayal has made me empathized with the goddamn character and i cannot stop thinking about this headcanons so here you go.

ALSO FIRST HEADCANON I SAW IT SOMEWHERE ON TUMBLR BUT I CANNOT FIND WHO DID IT IM SORRY SO CREDS TO THEM THANK YOU FOR IT.

warnings: swearing (in multiple languages).

riff is terrified of pigeons

that was one of the most hilarious conversations with tony.

"hey- are you okay?"

"it's the pigeons man"

"...the what?"

"THE FUCKING PIDGEONS, TONY"

he can't do math.

and he can't read clocks. like,,, he always ask what time is it and if someone points at the clock instead of actually telling him, he gets pretty upset.

greatest climber. used to climb buildings and stuff just for fun.

dropout from school.

he is bad with kids. not purposefully, he is just not a natural. so then he'll be purposely mean with kids.

he tugs at the old necklace he has like a lot, even when he is not nervous.

by the way, tony has the exact same necklace but he doesn't wear it anymore. it's hanged on one of his walls at doc's, though.

he whistles. a lot. constantly. especially when he is alone.

and he is always singing. he would eventually burst into a full singing and dancing show FOR ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING.

terrific dancer by the way. music floods through his veins.

i'm not saying he has anxiety but that's exactly what i'm saying.

the might tony went to jail, he cried himself to sleep.

riff gets extremely nervous during rumbles. like, his anxiety will actually be higher than his adrenaline tbh.

baby john is his favorite, apart from tony. he is just so quiet and calm, he loves him.

fingers guns and bad puns. IF YOU GOT IT YOU GOT IT.

HE IS IRISH.

he never got to meet his mom because she left. as in,,, abandoned him with his dad. he would like to meet her, though, but he know it's practically impossible.

that fake silver bracelet he has? the only thing left from his mom. and his blond hair has the same blond she has.

hates his dad.

with a passion.

seriously

worst you can do is tell him he looks/acts like his dad.

don't do that.

he'll literally punch you. hard. right on the face.

he is a pretty romantic boyfriend and he really doesn't try to hide it because he's not romantic in the type of saying embarrassing adorable full of sugar things.

he is romantic in hands all over their partner, taking them on cute though short and not expensive dates ( doc's, a walk, dancing or maybe even the cinema )

and god, he would like to have money just so he could spoil his partner. he gets kinda upset when he remember he can't, because he totally would.

give him a clip he'll give you a key.

for real

he doesn't remember when did he learn to do that but he knows how to do it so.

this reminds me,,,

he doesn't remember most of his childhood.

yknowasintraumareflex

that's why he always saying he looks to the future.

his teenage years and the parts with tony, he can remember that perfectly, though.

he used to be a crybaby.

riff cried for absolutely anything when he was a kid.

he had to get tough, though. and now the only people who had ever seen him cry are his father and tony.

he still cries to tony sometimes.

he is always talking and running his mouth but he likes to sit in silence and do nothing.

maybe that's why he likes baby john that much, because when riff is silence he doesn't push him to keep talking.

baby john lets him be.

he is good with cars. not as good as diesel, but still

i'm telling yall.

he is crazy about cars.

will shamelessly punch whoever says a motorcycle is better than a good car.

as he should

his favorite cars are fords

they are just so classy and cool.

mouthpiece is the only one who can get him to crack a smile when he is feeling down.

he knows italian and a bit of french because i have this headcanons in which the jets are a huge cultural treasure.

and when he was learning italian with action, who by the way is italian of course, he naturally learned the swearing first.

he spent a whole week randomly screaming italian swear words whenever he got mad - like when he got his toe stubbed - and upset.

"CAZZO"

"what the heck"

"ACCIDENTI VAFFANCULO, PORCA VACCA, STRONZO UGH!"

"action, what-"

"don't ask, tony, just don't"

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kiridarling · 3 years

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𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

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maximumjinx · 3 years

Text

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice.

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien.

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering.

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs.

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!”

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate.

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender.

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while.

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically.

“You have until dawn.”

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair.

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?”

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser.

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake.

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter.

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what.

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated.

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!”

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy.

“Good morning everyone.”

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy.

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile.

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious.

“Not insane.”

#I feel like I made up a strange tension but please don't ship them THEYRE FOUND FAMILY #Steven universe #gravity falls #universe falls #???#what's the tag?#dipper pines #Mabel pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #bill cipher #this is something or maybe nothing idk people need to give me plot ideas #probably no plot just one shot series

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pleasereadmeok · 3 years

Photo

This ‘Wonderland’ Interview to promote A Single Man is a gem. Matthew Goode is a bit of a handful and swears his way through this interview with his mate Nic Hoult. It’s very funny. It’s often quoted (including his description of Colin Firth’s kissing technique!) but it’s difficult to find a clean scan of the whole interview. This scan (from Natalie/ Fairchilds on ohnotheydidnt) isn’t very clear to read so I did a transcript several years ago - here:-

Wonderland Interview

Based on the 1964 novel by Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man marks the screenwriting and directing debut of fashion icon, Tom Ford. Having debuted earlier this year at the Venice Film Festival to a standing ovation, the film has continued to impress audiences during screening at the Toronto and London Film Festivals.

Joining lead actor, Colin Firth, on screen are fellow Brits Matthew Goode and Nicholas Hoult who discuss the film, Tom Ford and being British in LA.

ON A SINGLE MAN

Nicholas Hoult: The only time I saw Matthew was when we were getting our spray tans.

Matthew Goode: Which were more regular than we were expecting. I got on a plane with Colin [Firth] and then literally the moment we arrived, got in the car together, went to the hotel and suddenly – it’s like ten thirty at night – we have to go to Colin’s room where we’re having our spray tans . Colin Firth is in his pants, I’m in my pants and it stays that way for an hour whilst we wait for this stuff to set. He’s fucking great. I love Colin.

We [Nic’ and he] never had a scene together but we were there the whole time. I was only really fitting in around these guys. Nic had a damn sight more to do than I did.

NH: No I just did more.

MG: [Laughs] It was a really fun shoot. I mean, maybe I’m looking back with rose tinted spectacles, but …

NH: It was a good fun shoot. Everyone enjoyed it. I remember the night in Venice after seeing it in front of all those people and just lying in bed thinking ‘that’s something I’m proud of’.

MG: It’s seriously impressive. You watch it and you care and, it doesn’t happen to me a lot, but I watched it and thought ‘I’m in something that doesn’t stink!’. I’m proud of that.

NH: That’s a nice feeling when you’ve done something and you can say ‘yeah, proud of that’.

MG: Fucking hell – sorry to interrupt – but I was reading a magazine or a paper or something the other day and it said “A Single Man obviously being screened and whenever Nic Hoult was on screen there were gasps over his beauty” [laughs]. And I was thinking, fucking Hoult is going to LA and get so laid! [Laughs]. He is going to be turning bush away left right and centre!

NH: It’s all down to the fake tan again. That’s where the performance stems for me.

MG: That is a review!

NH: Nothing about the acting, right?

MG: They didn’t review the film. It just said “I saw it. I’m going to be reviewing it at some point, but let me tell you there were gasps over Nick Hoult’s beauty!”

ON TOM FORD

MG: Tom is immediately interesting. If it’s all about someone’s cannon of work then most of the time you wouldn’t work with a first ime director, but if the script is good and you have a chat with them and they know which end is up and which is down, then great.

NH: I didn’t know who Tom was when I met him.

MG: Nick “fashion forward” Hoult!

NH: I’d gone over to LA got off a plane and had dinner with him. And I asked him how he’d got into directing and why he was doing this!

MG: I love that. Isn’t that great? And that’s also like Tom. He’s not the sort of person who is like, ‘well fuck you!’.

NH: He explained very humbly what he had done and I thought OK. And then I looked him up after dinner and was ‘oh jesus! He’s actually accomplished quite a lot’ so probably quite a stupid question, but he was very honest and modest and made a great director.

MG: It’s so good. And so good for Colin. And Julianne [Moore] is bloody great in it as well. But the real star of it, it has to be said, is Tom. It silences immediately the people who were going ‘you self indulgent cunt.’ It’s like two massive fingers up to them as it is very, very accomplished.

NH: It’s very personal to him as well.

MG: Hugely personal as the main story sort of mirror images the relationship between him and Richard. There’s a similar age gap.

NH: He would always say my character is him when he was 18. He’s connected to every character and he knows them.

MG: And he wrote the screenplay and it’s starkly different from the book.

NH: Matthew’s read the book, so –

MG: That’s right! I have. It is different. I am always about the script, really. But one of the really nice things about being involved is that it is a love poem to Tom’s partner, Richard.

NH: Tom is very good in the sense that he is an actor’s director and knows what he wants you to do but is very giving to let you go off and explore things and try stuff out. And you don’t feel too much pressure of failure.

MG: That’s very true.

NH: ‘Cause the second you’re on set – especially when there’s only 20 days to shoot – to not feel the pressure, that’s a good atmosphere he created. Something his assistant was saying the other day was that he’s very good at holding his hands up and would admit when he wasn’t sure what he was doing and kept everyone on side and made it a really great team effort.

MG: I love it when someone’s like that. It’s so far away from self indulgent as well when someone’s shooting into the 19th hour of the day and the ship isn’t sinking, but there’s a leak and it’s far better to say we do have a leak and I’m trying to sort it out rather than leaning on one side and saying everything is fine. He is fucking great.

ON COLIN FIRTH

MG: Colin was great. I knew he was going to be good. The moment I read the script, I was like, ‘this is something you haven’t done in a long time’ – just something he could really get his teeth into. He’s such a subtle actor and it’s been a long time since I can remember him having something that central and serious.

NH: It was a great moment when we went to the Venice Film Festival and got the message Colin was winning the best actor award.

MG: I know. The previous evening we had sat there and we knew it had gone down well because there was a NINE minute standing ovation. And particularly when you’re not in the film as much as I am, then I feel like a fucking charlatan. I stood there and am looking down and smiling and embarrassed. Colin’s quite emotional and I tell you what – four minutes of a standing ovation gets a bit uncomfortable, but NINE? ‘OK, Colin… fucking move. Let’s go. Let’s leave.’ And he couldn’t tell us that he had won and so he was being shy about it.

NH: Yeah, he kept it very quiet.

MG: The moment we found out and we were on the boat we were like ‘What the fuck? You’ve won and you didn’t tell us!? And he was like ‘ I know, I didn’t wanna.’ He was humble.

NH: It was great. It was a bit of an odd first day like you had in the sense that I had to strip off in front of Colin on my first day. It sounds a bit seedy when I say ‘strip off in front of him’.

MG: It does!

NH: It’s part of the film, I swear! And it’s handled a lot more tastefully that that might seem, but yeah it was a bit of an odd first day.

MG: Everyone is going to say ‘oh it’s a gay movie’ which we then counteract with ‘no it’s not, it’s a film about love.’ But there is nudity and a bit of man kissing. Frankly Colin kisses like a nymphomaniac on death row, but it was a real pleasure!

NH: He’s got a lot of love!

ON JULIANNE MOORE

MG: She’s a fucking hero. She’s lovely. I didn’t have any scenes with her. I mean I’m only in flashback, so all my stuff was with Colin.

NH: All my stuff is with Colin as well. The first time I met Julianne was in Venice.

MG: Yeah, she was probably in the middle of juggling six projects or something, you know, she never stops working. She came in and shot two scenes, which were about 20 odd minutes of the film, and they did that in two evenings so she was in and out. I never got a chance to meet her until I was at some party in LA and she is just fantastic. And she’s married to a guy called Bart Freadlich who is a director in his own right.

NH: He’s a hero.

MG: He is actually fabulous! My girlfriend spent the whole evening calling him Bert instead of Bart and he was like ‘you know, actually I prefer Bert! Don’t worry about it’. He’s lovely. They could throw their weight around, but they are actually family people and live in New York – they’re kind of anti Hollywood.

ON THE LIFE OF AN ACTOR

MG: There are a lot of Brits and Aussies at the moment who are working. I don’t know what that means. But we never think of ourselves. When you get off the plane and you’re in America they ask ‘what’s the best thing about being a movie star?’ I am a jobbing actor, they have no idea! They make it sound like I get 500 scripts and am sitting there going through them all. If something comes up and they are stupid enough to give it to us or you love the script and audition but someone of a huge stature can come in and take it like Brad Pitt. Or Judi [Dench] – we’ve been up against each other a couple of times.

NH: I’ve never lost out to Judi yet.

MG: Only in a drinking contest! The vicious alcoholic that she is!

NH: Sam Worthington was telling me when he was in LA someone asked him why there were so many Aussies over there doing so well and his response was that it’s an awful long way to go to fail and not give it your best shot, basically.

MG: Oh. I was expecting some sort of knob gag in there, but yeah.

NH: It’s very true. I just got back from LA and every TV series has an English guy in the lead. Joseph Fiennes, Matthew Reece [RHYS]

MG: We’re good. We’re quite good…

N H: I can’t say it’s the training, because I don’t have any.

MG: You’re doing well! You make people gasp! You complete cunt. I hate that!

NH: You’re coming across very eloquent.

MG: That’s very nice of you. OK, who used to live with Ewan McGregor and Jude Law and he has a TV show? You’re right about that. Though it makes it sound like ‘Oh you’re English. Have a TV show’. I’m sure they all have about ten auditions.

NH: I had an interesting day recently when I was at a BBQ and Jimmy Page and Roger Daltrey were there.

MG: Wow!

NH: I sat there and was very quiet because I thought if I speak to them I’ll make a fool of myself so it’s best to keep out of the way and then they can’t have any bad thoughts although they probably didn’t know I was there. But I knew they were there so it was a good BBQ for me.

MG: I’d love to learn guitar. It’s one of those things I’d love to do. Though it’s not like I don’t have the time…

NH: [Laughs]

MG: I’d like to know all the chords.

NH: It’s difficult to get the fingering right… That’s what she said.

MG: And back to Dame Judi!

NH: [Laughs]

MG: It depends if you have a high action or a low action in terms of the strings. It hurts. You’ve got to build up the calluses. If you get a low action one that would be easier.

NH: Are we still talking about women?

MG: Yes! [Laughs] I remember Billy Crudup got the part in Almost Famous and he had lessons with Peter Frampton but had to have lessons on the side because Peter was like ‘you are fucking terrible’. But that’s one of the nice accidents of the job is you can get training in things. And random travel.

NH: I got to do archery.

MG: You did! That was The Weatherman!

NH: No, for Clash of the Titans. I didn’t use it once.

MG: Oh yes, it was the daughter in The Weatherman.

NH: Yeah man, keep up.

MG: Sorry mate. That’s how pretty you are. I confused you with the female lead.

NH: He’s seen all my work.

MG: I have! I’ve got to learn how to do it. You are a master. I did a Spanish film and it was all in Spanish [!] – I learnt it phonetically. Jesus, that’s my only skill. The major skill I picked up is I can pay my rent. The older you get the more you realize there are a lot of people who hate their jobs. I’m so glad I’m not – ha! Famous last words! – it does seem to be going OK for now. But bringing it back to what do you like about acting – to be honest, everything.

ON BRITISH TALENT

MG: I think there is an element that we’re just so happy to work. Certainly as for getting into film it was such an accident because I hadn’t worked in front of a camera. For a while it was like what is the secret code to working on screen? I have no idea what it is… but even ten films in I’m still sitting here renting and not owning a house. I think that keeps you grounded. As opposed to some American actors who are on a hundred thousand dollars doing some TV.

NH: You don’t get comfortable so you feel you’ve got to keep on striving.

MG: I think we’re overrated. [Laughs]. There is an element over there if you walk into a room of Americans that they’re suddenly like ‘oh fuck they’re British and we’re steeped in tradition.

NH: It’s odd that Tom got so many English actors for the film – we’re both playing American.

MG: And Julianne is playing English.

NH: it’s good he trusts in us to pull of the American accents.

MG: Yeah, I mean – idiot! In fairness you’ve done it before and I have done it a couple of times. But it is odd. If you think who he probably could have had –

NH: He probably could have done better than us!

MG: I’m sure he could have convinced someone with a much higher stature. I think it was just we were willing to work for free, effectively. And that’s also what makes Britain great. We want to work and we want to please the director and often at times, yes we might have strong thoughts on character and script, but we turn up and are like, this is your vision and you are the director and we know where we fit in. Certainly the Brits, I find, we want to be told what to do or how it’s going to work rather than, ‘I’m the fucking star!’ I tend to find we leave our ego at the door. We tend not to pussyfoot around. We all like a drink. We’re steeped in that tradition as well. There’s a certain forbidden thing in America if you drink you’re an alcoholic. No I’m not, and I generally wait until at least half past one.

NH: On weekends. Weekdays, 11.

MG: There is a reason pubs are opened at 11 and it’s because you are allowed to start drinking at that time. Otherwise, they wouldn’t do it! Christ, can you remember back to when – you might not remember, actually. I gasp at your beauty as I try to remember!

NH:[laughs] I’m never going to live this down!

MG:Do you remember when pubs shut on Sundays at, like, 1 for two or three hours? Maybe I’m showing my age now. That is fucking madness. There would be a riot now.

NH: So basically, we haven’t found a conclusion to what makes Britain great… You’re a big X Factor fan though, aren’t you?

MG: My girlfriend loves it. She’s got me into it. I mean it’s fucking hilarious. You literally sit there and you don’t know any of these people but the music comes up and they get selected and you can be in tears and so happy that these people have been selected for the live shows. I really like the over 25’s this year. They’re fucking great.

NH: Matthew Goode on The X Factor!

MG: ‘He’s very much into the over 25s and what is funny is they are all male’. But it is great. But then it’s such a machine. There is such a turn around. Sometimes the winner gets completely forgotten and they have no career and then, obviously, sometimes they go shooting up. But it is great telly! Saturday night, a couple of beers and The X Factor.

[Pics - My edit of Ben Rayner photos/scan by Natalie Fairchild.]

#matthew goode #nic hoult #a single man #a discovery of witches #adow #just in case ADOW fans are interested - it's a stretch I know.........

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lunar-lair · 3 years

Text

ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.

has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.

(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)

he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)

anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.

but theres a line to follow here.

this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.

hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.

and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.

raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.

ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.

and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)

so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away

and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)

and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.

and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.

and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.

for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.

and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.

warm. warm, a little nice.

reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.

(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)

and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.

and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.

this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.

so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.

(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)

and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.

raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.

he can tell. he can tell.

he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.

raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.

and then the man comes with a militia.

he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.

but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.

an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.

and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.

(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.

hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)

but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.

they send the children to find the missing agents.

the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.

they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.

the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.

they surprise them. one almost hits raz.

its intercepted instead.

and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.

and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.

and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."

And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.

He cant believe it. He really cant.

"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."

and raz pauses. the interns freeze.

"...well, here I am."

and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*

so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.

and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.

and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.

and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.

but he hates that he isnt, too.

and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.

and hes swayed, just a little.

but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.

"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."

raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.

he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.

before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.

he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.

thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.

hes only 10.

hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.

aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.

the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.

raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.

but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.

and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.

anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee

#GOD THAT GOT LONG. ALSMSKKS APOLOGIES OH MH GOD #psychonauts #psychonauts oc #and my personal tag:#pn oc #trash talks #long post #like! insanely long!!!!!!! i am so so sorry maybe i should make a cut #psychonauts 2 spoilers #like a lot tbh alskssk #OK READMORE SUCCESSFULLY ADDED!!! THNX GOOGLE <3

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bastardtetsu · 3 years

Text

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #.txt #e writes

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part IV

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,696

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“Has he done this before?” Ned asked, referring to Cersei’s wounded cheek.

“My brother would have killed him.” She answered.

”Your brother or your lover?”

“Jaime and I shared a womb. We came into this world together, we belong together. Do you love your children?”

“With all my heart.”

“No more than I love mine.” She confidently said.

“And they are all Jaime’s, except for Y/N.”

“The hair gives her away. I used to have resentment against her. Being the only creation that we brought to the world. Y/N was the only time we really gave it a try. A man who didn’t give a fuck for me. He never loved me but he loves her.” The Lannister woman held a neutral tone.

“When the King returns I will tell him the truth. You must be gone by then. Take the rest of your children and go.”

“You should have climbed those steps. When you play the game of thrones you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” Lord Eddard Stark discovered the secret Lord Arryn died for. It wasn’t his territory anymore.

“I should have spent more time with you. Show you how to be a man. You can learn a big deal from Y/N. I was never meant to be a father. Everyone out!” Cersei looked suspiciously at Ned, Joffrey left the room retaining the tears, not processing what was happening.

“Except you, thanks the gods for blessing me with a daughter like you.” You held his hand tightening the grip. “The girl, Daenerys. You and Ned were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother. worthless. No one would tell me no but the two of you. You are much alike. So honorable. She changed my mind. Let her live. Stop it if it’s not too late.”

“We will.”

“And my son, help him. Make him better than me. Help your brother. He’s not ready. Give him your council to make wise choices.” You nodded sobbing.

“I shall always remember this strength you gave.”

“It comes from yourself. Now give me a moment with this fool. And Y/N, don’t be scared even in the face of danger.”

“His grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Princess Y/N convinced him. Whatever arrangements you made, unmade them. At once.” Your father’s best friend declared.

“I’m afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead by now.” You scowled.

“But if it’s not the case stop sending sell swords or assassins to do the job. Also if it’s possible send other birds to abort the mission. That’s a command, Lord Varys.”

“Yes, my princess.” This Targaryen girl will survive.

You once more found little Arya with his dancing teacher, you approached while she was off guard earning a slight hit on your arm.

“I didn’t see you there.” The small one exclaimed.

“We don’t need eyes to see what’s around us, boy.” Syrio reminded her.

“I’m sorry about your father, Y/N.” You sat on the stairs. “I miss Robb, Bran, Rickon and Jon so much. Unlike Sansa, I prefer the North.”

“I met Jon. He seemed to be a good brother, better than Joffrey that’s for sure.”

“He gave me a sword. I named it Needle. I don’t have it here, I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait.” You smiled.

“Do you have any bastard siblings?”

“Plenty of them. But it is highly unlikely we’ll ever meet.” You squinted, thinking about the possibility.

“Wish I had a sister like you, mine hates me.”

“I don’t think you hate each other. You just have different opinions, different preferences. You share more than blood. I see a lot of potencial in you. You cannot use someone else’s fire. You can only use your own. And in order to do that, you must first be willing to believe that you have it.” She closed her eyes and proceeded with her classes.

This was crazy. Your mother locked you in your room. The King was dead. Everything was out of place.

“What‘s going on? Why you locked me up?” You shouted to Cersei. She frantically sighed.

“It was a precaution. We don’t know where your loyalty stands, Y/N. Your brother is the King now. Your friend’s father conspired to dethrone him and seize it from himself.”

“That’s insanity...-“

“The little bird was on her room. I haven’t seen the other.” Sandor entered with the redhead.

“Where’s Lady Arya?”

“We have guards looking for her. She won’t be able to hide forever.”

“Princess, what’s happening?” She anxiously asked. After your mother explained what her lord father allegedly did, she made her write a message to his older brother Robb, asking him to come to King’s Landing and swear fealty to Joffrey. You also learned from Lord Baelish that Renly and Loras flee the city before they took the Lord of Winterfell as a prisoner.

“My father would never do that! He is not a traitor” She spat once you two were alone.

“I know, my lady. It must be a misunderstanding.” You said trying to calm her nerves.

“Where do they took him?”

“To the dungeons, I suppose. Things are going to clarify.” The pretty little dove was completely bewildered, same as you.

That very night you went undercover to see the alleged offender.

“Lord Eddard. I brought you some water. Are you okay?” Holding a torchlight, you removed your hood kneeling to give him the canteen.

“Thanks for visiting me. I’m worried about my daughters. You know where they are?”

“We haven’t found Arya, we‘re still on the search. Sansa is alright, she’s under custody. I will protect her.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Treason, my lord? I don’t think that makes sense. Why would you say my brother is not the rightful heir?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You are a clever young princess, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed yet.”

“About what?”

“I didn't know if it was appropriate to tell you.” He took another big gulp. “You are the only highborn child Robert had. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are your uncle Jaime’s bastards. Your mother confessed it to me the other day. They tried to kill Bran cause he saw them. Don’t say a word, not even mention it or you might face the same fate. Though you are the princess is better to be careful with your family.” He was speaking the truth. Deep down you’ve always suspected it, however it was hard to assimilate.

“Y-yes, I won’t say anything to anyone.” You promised. “If you bend the knee and say he is the one true heir to the crown, you might live.”

“Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say. You have a gentle heart, don’t let the wrong people take advantage of it.” The late hand cautioned.

You were in the Thorne Room. Your mother called Ser Barristan, he stepped forward facing the new King. A huge crowd was there. You stood beside the Stark girl.

“You served the Realm good and faithfully. Every man and woman in the seven kingdoms owns you thanks. But it is time to put aside your armor and your sword. It is time to rest and look with pride at your many years of service.” The lioness said.

“Your Grace, the king's guards is a sworn brotherhood. Only death realizes us for our sacred trust.” He replied.

“You let my father died. You are too old to protect anybody.” The boy on the throne yelled.

“The council has determined Ser Jaime Lannister as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.” Jaime wasn’t even here, that was stupid.

“A man who profane his blade against the king he swore to defend.”

“Careful, Ser.”

“I am a knight. I shall die a knight! Here boy, melted it out and add it to the others.” He threw his sword and left the room.

“If anyone else has other matters to set before his grace, let him speak now or go ford and told his silence.” The northerner squeezed your hand before speaking.

“Your grace.”

“Lady Sansa of the House Stark.”

“Do you have some business with the king and the council, Sansa?”

“I do. As it pleases your grace I ask mercy for my father. Lord Eddard Stark who was hand of the King.”

“Treason is...-“ Pycelle interrupted her.

“Let her speak. I want to hear what she says.” Joffrey declared.

“Thank you, your grace.” You didn’t peel away your glance off her.

“Do you deny your father’s crime?” Baelish inquired.

“No, my lords, I know he must be punished. All I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did. He was king Robert's friend and he loved him. You all know he loved him. He never wanted to be hand until the king asked him. They must have lied to him. Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or somebody. They must have lied!” He was clearly nervous, how could she not be? You wanted to intervene and help but you remained silence, it wasn’t the place.

“He said I wasn’t the king. Why would he say that?”

“He was badly hurt. Maester Pycelle was giving him milk of the poppy. He wasn’t himself otherwise he never would have said it.”

“A child’s faith... such sweet innocence. And yet they say wisdom often comes from the mouths of babes.” Lord Varys commented.

“Treason is treason!” The old maester repeated.

“Anything else?”

“If you still have any affection in your heart for me, please do me this kindness your grace.” She pleaded.

“Your sweet words have moved me. But your father needs to confess and say that I am the king or there will be no mercy for him.”

“He will.” You hope so too.

“Mother, please.” She walked passed ignoring you.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“You are Queen Regent. You know the consequences.”

“Joffrey, have mercy. If you order to have his head you’ll bring war here. The North will fight you. Thousands and thousands of innocent people will die. You can prevent it.”

“You won’t tell me what to do, little sister.” He immediately dismissed you.

#sansa stark x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #game of thrones fic #got #baratheon reader #house baratheon

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fencesandfrogs · 3 years

Text

sea shanties, work songs, tiktok

so apparently tiktok and sea shanties (technically they’re usually sea folk songs, based on the ones i’ve heard, which is not many) are having a moment and as someone who’s always been a fan of work songs, esp. sea shanties, i just wanted to take a moment to talk/think about them.

[this is abt 1.4k words with a lot of music, incl. 4 embeded videos. i included this break because scrolling past long posts is annoying but like. there’s some good music to listen to in here even if u don’t want to read the whole thing.]

call & response is a pretty common musical idea. i’m not sure at all, but i’d wager a good deal that it’s probably some of the oldest stuff we have. but, like, if you’ve ever sung anything in a group, it’s there. the classic call and response is shorter, but i just want to also say a lot of music can be thought of as call and response, like verses/choruses, etc.

i think it just speaks to a human desire to participate in music. many people know what i’m talking about here (maybe most? i come from a musical family so i don’t have a good breadth of experience but i’ve met very few people who don’t jive to music), and so we make this little welcoming come sing with me environment.

anyway, so work songs are a type of music meant to coordinate labor. a lot of work songs are formed by slaves, because for a work song to be helpful, you need to be doing work that requires coordination.

sea shanties are a specific type of work song that use the general structure of the american slave work song combine with irish, scottish, and english folk music.

folk music as a whole is a wider genre that overlaps a lot with work songs, especially as you start to turn to industrial work songs and cowboy work songs and the like which have a less specific rhythm than sea shanties specifically.

musical edification complete, i’m going to focus on sea shanties and industrial work songs b/c that’s what i listen to the most.

so call and response. sea shanties usually have a soloist part that’s a bit more musically complex, and the response is “simpler”. i’m not here to talk abt music theory or why they developed like that, but you know when you’re bad at singing, having a simple part to join in with is positive. hits the warm gooey spot of participating in group music. here’s a recording of blow the man down which i think demonstrates this quality really well:

youtube

(it’s a pretty popular shanty which is why i picked it. the “truth”of my argument is not at all universal, and it’s not just about speed, but also the rhythm, melody, etc.)

anyway there’s a lot of shanties and what typically comes to mind is drunken sailor which i know “all” the words to (as much as anyone can) but you’ll see theré’s no call and response

what do you do with a drunken sailor

early in the morning

right? that’s not a call and response, it’s just repetition. lyrically, its a call and response:

put him in bed with the captain’s daughter

(that’s my favorite line bc as kids we didn’t understand it so it made us laugh)

but musically you’re not having a back and forth. and so they’re things everyone just gets to sing together.

and that brings me to more industrial work songs. my favorite is sixteen tons, because i’m a basic bitch, and the line “saint peter don’t you call me cause i can’t go” is eternally stuck in my head. here’s a full version:

youtube

so as you can see, there’s no call and response, but the melody is relatively simple. it’s repetitive, the range is decent, and it’s got a really flexible tempo (the video i chose is pretty moderate, but here’s a fast one (and this is pure performance), and i swear i have a slower version on my computer but i can’t find it for the life of me).

(aside: one thing to notice in the johnny cash version is the backing. his is far more complex than ernie ford, and that’s because it’s dropped all pretense of being a work song. work songs don’t have much behind them because they’re almost always a capello. this isn’t super relevant to the discussion i just wanted to point it out.)

so mining work songs are generally like this (see black waters, another favorite of mine), and it’s not hard to see where folk music as a genre develops:

youtube

i just really like this song it’s probably not the best example.

on the other hand, other folk music maintains the structure. lets look at oh susanna (i hate this version, but the vocals are very clear so uhhh here’s a random cool fancy one listen to this it’s super cool).

the whole thing is fairly repetitive, it doesn’t have a strictly definite end, etc. the melody is still pretty simple, although i will say, having sung this in a choir, it can get more complicated in arrangement pretty easily.

anyway, this becomes bluegrass which is basically the folk version of country, here’s callin baton rogue which is absolutely one of the best songs to ever be written. this version is done by garth brooks, country singer, but listen to that fiddle and tell me it’s country.

(this is future matthew with an edit just to say, like, i’m not trying to establish a *strictly* factual chain of music genres here. bluegrass is, i believe, related closely to jazz & blues, while country was formed directly as an opposition to jazz & music history is really complicated.)

you get a lot of ballads here, eg ballad of john henry. i’m not going to say that’s good. but uh there’s a lot to filter through and i’m supposed to be working on my computer science assignment not doing an exploratory discussion of work songs and associated genres.

so this brings us to scottish/irish/english ballads. the clancy brothers are a popular band here, my mom had them on in the car a lot. here’s the work of the weavers for a slower song, but a good one, and here’s moonshiner, which is both a good song and takes me to my next point: sea songs, folk song, and tiktok (see its almost the same as the title it’s a joke).

i’m happy to see folk music making a resurgence. it was really a shame that we spent such a long time listening to not singing friendly music. that’s not a diss on any particular genre (except for edm fuck edm, everyone who makes dance remixes should have their music liscences revoked), because in isolation every genre is fine, but then you take it all together, and there’s a lack of the group singing, safe for bad singers, simple to play, music as a wider genre.

when did we stop singing lullabies? i mean i assume we still sing them to children, but how many do you know? how long has it been since a song like you are my sunshine has been popular? *caveat that i don’t listen to the radio, but if you have a counter example, make sure you think about how long it is and how large the range is and how complicated the rhythm is, etc., because that all is part of it.

at the camp i used to go to, we would sing bohemian rhapsody walking down the hill to the waterfront. someone would start it, and those interested get to join in sometime around “easy come easy go", but then you get to a guitar solo, and the thing kind of fizzles without a backing track.

and that’s what i mean, i mean people keep singing together, and wouldn’t it be better if more people made music that was meant to be sung? i mean sure you can gather your friends and sing anything, but will it resonate in the same way “what do you do with a drunken sailor?” would? will everyone be able to sing it, will it sound okay if you sing it badly? why did we stop making music that sounded best when we sing it the way we always have? why did we stop listening to it?

anyway i don’t have a deep take on this except like folk music is really good, and traditional songs exist for a reason. since i’ve focused really heavily on america and gaelic tradition, because that’s what i listend to growing up, and therefore can speak about in a qualitative sense, i would like to just leave this south african lullaby here, because my mom used to sing it to me, so it’s got a real soft spot in my heart. i didn’t really talk about lullabies because again comp sci assignment but they’re related, so anyway, this has an english translation in there which may or may not be the standard? but you can know what it means too:

youtube

#folk music #work songs #bluegrass #sea shanties #lullabies #music #mine #txt #19th #January #2021 #January 19th 2021 #q #essay

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Lost Hier Job

leverage 2.09

(Sophie opens her curtains and looks out the window. A knock comes to the door and she goes to look through the peep hole, then immediately opens the door)

Sophie: Who's dead?

Nate: No, no. Everybody's okay. Can I...

Sophie: Huh?

Nate: I-I...

(Sophie lets Nate into the room)

Sophie: Oh. Y-You scared the life out of me.

HER FIRST FEAR IS THAT SOMEONE DIED OR GOT HURT

SOPHIE IS THEIR MOM FIRST BEFORE EVERYTHING

- - - - -

Nate: Oh, yeah. No, we're doing fine. I mean, yeah. Everything's, I mean, it kind of went from a quintet to what we are now, a quartet. I mean, it's like, we still know how to play. We sound good, you know. But something is, uh, sounding a little bit, uh, you know, wrong.

Sophie: Huh. Well, I hope that I’m, I really hope I’m not the violist because when I was little, my mum made me have lessons, and I was rubbish. I was completely rubbish. I can't play a note. Not a single note

- - - - -

Tara: Either I am in, or Ruth is out. It's your choice. (walks away)

Nate: They are gonna hate this.

[Leverage HQ]

Eliot: I hate this.

Hardison: You do not let Vicki Vale into the Batcave ever.

Nate: First, this is my home, not a cave. And, second, we're not gonna allow her up here.

Parker: Sophie would never approve. Call her.

Nate: We can't just keep calling Sophie.

Hardison: Oh, okay. I see how it is. We can't call her, but you can go off and have a little secret meeting with her.

Nate: Secret meeting? What are you talking about? I was in Harrisburg, researching a client.

Hardison: Wow, ‘cause you know what? (hits remote and pulls information up on monitor) Your passport got dinged going through Heathrow airport yesterday. Heathrow's in London. I guess you couldn't get a direct flight over to Harrisburg.

Eliot: Well, it's hard when you do the same-day booking.

Hardison: Yeah, 'cause you had to go with the -- Did you realize that London is the home of the most surveillance cameras in the world?

Parker: Really?

Hardison: Who feels like playing "where's Waldo"?

Parker: Oh. Yeah. (raises hand)

Hardison: I do. (hits remote to show video on monitors) Oh. There's Waldo right there. Waldo Ford. Oh, oh. Is that big Ben and you? Wow. You got twins and triplets everywhere. And looky there. 11:18 am standing outside of Sophie’s apartment, Looking quite pensive.

Parker: Aww. He's rehearsing what he's gonna say. I've seen him do that.

Nate: All right, all right, all right, guys. Okay. Yeah. You caught me. I went to London. Yeah. I saw Sophie. And she's not coming back.

Parker: Not now or not ever?

Nate: I don't know. And I don't, I don't think she knows either. So, uh, that's that. Could you please take the...

(Hardison darkens the monitors)

parker wearing that bright yellow flannel? adorable

parker and eliot look DELIGHTED as hardison fucks with nate it’s great

- - - - -

Hardison: Tara Carlisle. She checks out. Civil-Rights lawyer, does a lot of pro bono work. Collects lost causes like kittens.

Eliot: Well, she's honest.

Hardison: Crusader. Incorruptible.

(Tara pulls up and gets out of her car)

Hardison: And one sexy librarian

I saw a headcanon that Tara did actually do this on the side for a living, because, if you think about it, could she really fake a file THAT GOOD to fool hardison, the best hacker in the world

- - - - -

we love to see parker in the vents

- - - - -

EVEN IN P R I S O N HARDISON GETS HIS ORANGE SODA

- - - - -

(Frank slides the back from a photo to find a Nazi flag and a photo of Hitler. He carries it over to where Orson is standing between Hardison and Eliot)

Hardison: My god, he is Aryan nation

LMFAO

- - - - -

(Blanchard enters room reading a file. He looks up to see Nate on a ladder tearing pages from a law book and clears his throat. Nate looks over at him)

can someone PLEASE make a compilation of nate’s characters being obnoxious and chaotic pretty please

- - - - -

parker’s sMOOTH exit from the vents into a flip I am in LOVE with her

- - - - -

Hardison: I tied the adoption-Reference number to the medical records of one of Parker's aliases. Social security, taxes, long record of drug offenses. Anybody short of the CIA is gonna believe that is Kimball’s daughter.

he’s so good at this I love it

- - - - -

(hiding behind a broken crate, Lind points a gun at Parker and Hardison. Eliot sees this as he approaches)

Eliot: Nate!

(Lind fires, shattering the passenger’s side window. Eliot runs forward, bends to pick up a rock, and throws it at Lind, hitting him in the head. He fires again, shooting out the tire as Nate runs around the car. Lind swings the gun at Eliot, who catches it. Lind punches Eliot in the stomach and Eliot hits Lind in the face with the gun. Eliot throws the gun down as Lind stumbles back for more)

Eliot: Come on!

(Lind swings, Eliot ducks and hits Lind in the ribs, then pushes him away. Lind turns around and swings but Eliot blocks his punches, grabbing him and throwing him to the ground. Lind gets up and looks at the gun. Eliot picks up the gun)

Eliot: You want this?

(Lind holds up his hands and moves away, running. Nate and Parker move out from behind the car. Eliot unloads the gun and tosses it aside)

when eliot sees the sniper and is terrified? when he manages to pick up a rock and nail the sniper in the face with it while running? his FURY when he’s fighting him? he’ll do anything to protect his family

- - - - -

(Eliot and Parker walk past a sunglasses vendor. Eliot bumps a table for a distraction and Parker grabs two pairs of sunglasses, handing one to Eliot)

Eliot: Are you kidding me? (puts on the glasses) Look at this.

THEYRE SO IN SYNC I LOVE IT

also married complaining about the style of the sunglasses? we love to see it

- - - - -

(Eliot and Parker run through a hallway)

Parker: We're cut off. We're gonna have to get rough.

Eliot: I ain't hitting cops.

(a noise from behind has them looking back)

Parker: I look forward to seeing you explain that

remember that one commentary with john rogers where he said in this scene beth changed her lines/energy to more of a kinky vibe that made the scene that much better? because I do and boy was this scene charged with something interesting

- - - - -

Eliot: All right. Be cool.

(Eliot unloads the gun and catches the bullet)

Eliot: All right. Nothing's gonna happen to anybody. Just settle down.

(The officer raises a stun gun that Eliot knocks out of his hand and Parker catches)

Eliot: You’re not using a stun gun either

(Eliot pushes the officer back and Parker points the stun gun at the officer)

Eliot: Hold on. Stop. Chill. All right? Nobody's gonna get hurt.

(another officer steps out behind Parker, his gun raised)

Officer: Drop it!

(Parker points the stun gun under her arm and hits the officer, knocking him down)

Eliot (to Parker): Seriously? What are you doin’?

Parker: Mmm.

Eliot (to officer): Listen, it's probably best if you pretend that you never saw us. Okay?

(Eliot and Parker move down the hall past the fallen officer. Parker triggers the stun gun again)

Eliot: Stop

parker loves tasing people and eliot is exhausted

- - - - -

Nate: Hey, Parker, forget about the hearing. I need you to do something else.

(Parker pulls files from the safe in Blanchard’s office, proudly kissing it)

SHES BABY YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Blanchard: What the hell is this? Hey, you don't understand!

(the officers drag Blanchard to the exit)

Blanchard: These people are thieves! I don’t even think that one’s a lawyer!

someone also make a compilation of their marks swearing they’re not who they say they are. I just think it’s funny and chaotic

- - - - -

parker hardison and eliot all walk in together (TOGETHER)

also both parker and eliot are wearing flannel

- - - - -

Parker: I bet you're not even a lawyer.

Tara: Oh. Sophie was right. You are adorable.

Parker: Excuse me?

(Eliot, Parker and Hardison talk angrily at her for several moments as Nate reads what’s in the envelope)

some highlights that I was able to hear from all of them talking over each other:

- Eliot: Don’t comment and say that kinda stuff. You don’t know us at all.

- Hardison: Woah, you’re overstepping here

- Parker: You don’t get to call me adorable. You don’t get to say that.

basically the boys jump to her defense and I love it

also SOPHIE CANONICALLY TOLD TARA PARKER WAS ADORABLE THATS SO SWEET

- - - - -

Hardison: Whoa, whoa, hold up. Mnh-Mnh. Hold up, hold up. What is this?

Tara: Oh, it’s a bill, for my cut of the inheritance. Hey, I’m not a candy striper. This is my job.

(Eliot, Hardison and Parker look at Nate, who nods)

Tara: There. See? We're getting paid already. It's gonna be fun.

#leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #leverage 2.09 #leverage 2x09 #notable moments #mine

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners | Steve x Reader

chapter one: please, please, please, let me get what I want

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: Steve finally agrees to hang out outside of work.

warnings: swearing, 80s music

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this chapter is mainly a ton of exposition, but it’s gonna get better I PROMISE. huge thank ya to @wolfish-willow who gave me some beautiful ideas (milky coffee + danish loving Steve) that helped this fic come to fruition <3 enjoy!

You pull into Hawkin’s Police Department at 7:30, a half hour before your shift. There are two coffees in the cup holders of your car, and a paper bag filled with two pastries on the passenger seat. You pull in beside your partner’s car and he hops out, a smile plastered on his face. He crawls into your passenger side and grabs the bag.

“This one’s yours,” you say, pointing to the coffee cup marked milk w/ dash of coffee. He laughs, pulling out his blueberry danish and handing you your strawberry donut. He bites into his pastry and lets out a sinful moan, making you smack his arm.

“It’s too early for you to be gross,” you say, but he looks victorious.

“I’m sorry you don’t like my happiness,” he quips, and you roll your eyes.

It was tradition that every Monday that you both worked, you’d get coffee and pastries from the local bakery and shoot the shit in your car until your shift started.

“So, I had a dream last night where I was dating Mia Sara,” he says.

“Wish that were me,” you reply, taking a sip of coffee. “Did it work out for you guys?”

“Nah, she left me for Harrison Ford.”

“Tragic.”

He pauses, listening to the music softly coming from your radio. He scoffs upon realizing what was playing.

“Stop listening to this sad shit,” he says, turning the dial, making you shout.

“It’s the Smiths!” You try to bat his hand away, but he manages to change the channel to a Queen song. Typical.

You and Steve had become good friends after securing your positions, despite your perception of him in high school. After the fire at Starcourt and the death of Jim Hopper, the federal government had given the Hawkins Police a grant to let aspiring cops train directly in the field. It would fast-track getting certified, eliminating the need for expensive schooling. It was like a paid internship. A paid internship where you basically get paid to bullshit with your best friend all day.

A third car pulls in. It’s Veronica, the secretary. She takes over on days that Flo wants off – she’s worked hard enough for it. Veronica was a bit obsessed with Steve, so he groaned when he saw her get out and wave.

“What do you think she’s going to say to you today?” you giggle, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Probably, like… that she had a dream about us last night, or something.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, please don’t let her talk to me.”

Women were throwing themselves at Steve the minute he put the uniform on, but he claimed he wasn’t interested in dating. You weren’t really sure why, given his history, but he never answered any questions. He just said he wanted to focus on work and having fun, so you let him.

Steve was kind of a mystery to you. You were incredibly close at the station, but you’d been working with him for a few months and you never saw each other outside of work. There were talks of maybe going to a movie, but they never went anywhere. It was bizarre, considering how fond you both were of each other. But you didn’t want to push it, unsure if you were making him uncomfortable.

In reality, Steve was just nervous of letting people in. Not just because of his history with girls and friends, but because he also had Russians and demons to worry about. He felt that if he let anyone new into his life, he would be putting them in mortal danger. This viewpoint is also the reason why he applied for the apprenticeship in the first place.

When the position popped up, Steve had no second thoughts. He had looked up to Hopper greatly since the time Will was possessed. He knew without a doubt that he wanted to follow in Hop’s footsteps. But he also felt an obligation now that Hopper was dead. Joyce had left, taking Will and Eleven with her. The three people who had the best grip on the strange events that had occurred the past three years were gone, and the man who devised most of the plans (and executed them) was gone, too. Steve couldn’t sleep at night for months. He needed to constantly call the kids and Robin to make sure they were safe. Being part of the Hawkins Police seemed like a no-brainer; it was a way to ensure everyone was safe and be on the frontlines to protect them.

Not that he ever let this on; usually he would just say that he’s always wanted to be a cop, and he kept it at that.

You’d decided to do the apprenticeship after college didn’t work out. You went to one in Indianapolis after high school, but you weren’t really into it. Your parents decided to retire and travel for a few years, offering to let you have the house while they’re gone. You gratefully took them up on it, and you’d been living there since the spring. You’d enjoyed a few months off, but decided it was time to find something new to do. You’d always had a fantasy of being a hero. Maybe not a hero cop, but a hero. You wanted to save lives, make an impact. Being a police officer seemed like a good start. You knew it wouldn’t be like the movies, but the strange events that happened the last few years excited you. Maybe you’d get the chance to be someone you’ve always wanted to be.

“Why don’t you just give Veronica a chance?” you ask. “She’s pretty and she’s nice and she’s smart.”

“She literally told me she wanted a lock of my hair,” he says.

You choke on your coffee. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah? I didn’t.”

Steve’s watch beeps, signaling that it’s 5 minutes until 8.

“Please keep talking to me when we go in,” he begs as you both climb out of the car.

“What’s in it for me?” you inquire.

“I will give you all of the lunches my mom brings me for two weeks.”

You pause. “Even the Fruit Roll-Ups?”

He sighs. “I’ll throw them in if you do a good job.”

You successfully make it past the reception desk without incident, waving hi to Callahan and Powell. You knock on the Chief’s door to signify your arrival, and you and Steve make your way back to the annex you worked in. Your desks faced each other, making it easier to talk through your 8-hour shifts. They were usually pretty boring. You and Steve were only cleared to respond to calls about petty things, like noise disturbances. But it’s not like much ever happened anymore in Hawkins, and the town had almost made it a full year without any weird occurrences.

A few hours go by, and boredom runs rampant. You hated Mondays: things hardly ever happened. Steve gets up around 10:30 and puts a mixtape into the boombox in the annex. Don’t You (Forget About Me) comes on, and Steve mutters, “aw, hell yeah,” under his breath. You know he’s going to start dancing, but it doesn’t stop the surprised smile on your face as he starts to swing and spin and sing. It’s magic, watching Steve dance. It makes no sense, it’s clumsy, it’s so white that it hurts; but it’s also hilarious and never fails to pick you up. Sometimes you’d join him. Other times, you’d call him an idiot. And sometimes you’d just watch as the magic unfolds.

This was one of those times.

The door to the annex opens around 1, approximately 5 hours into your shift. You and Steve are begging for something to do, because throwing M&Ms at each other isn’t fun by the second hour. You’d just thrown one at Steve when the door swings open, and you and Steve look at the intruder with wide eyes. It’s the Chief.

The new Chief was okay, you guessed. He was also brought in by the feds. He was a kind older man, with deep set blue eyes and wispy white hair. He could have come straight out of a storybook. You thought the Chief delegated nicely, and you’d shared a few good laughs. Something always felt off, though – but you and Steve chalked that up to the fact that you both were extremely biased against anyone who wasn’t Hop.

“Noise disturbance call,” Chief Edwards says. “Some kids out on Maple Street are causing mayhem.”

Steve groans and throws his head back. “Please tell me it’s not 30 Maple Street.”

The Chief blinks. “It is.”

“God dammit,” Steve says under his breath. It’s Mike’s house.

You and Steve get into a patrol car and set off.

“Do you know these kids?” you ask.

“Yeah, they’re kind of… my kids?” He scrunches his nose. “I keep them out of trouble.”

You pause, confused. “So, you babysit them?”

“No, no,” Steve says. His face grows slightly red. “They’re my friends.”

Steve pulls into the driveway of the house, blaring the siren once to scare the kids that were on the lawn. Their faces quickly went from scared to excited as they saw it was Steve in the car.

You both get out of the car, and Steve takes the lead. He puts his hands on his hips and faces the kids. There were 4 boys and 2 girls, no older than 16, if you could guess. One of them with dark hair is holding a hose, and the others are wet.

“What are you shitheads doing?” Steve asks sternly. A couple of the kids giggle.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” the red headed girl asks.

“I told you we were being too loud,” a kid you recognize as Will Byers says. He is smart, sitting on the porch and just watching, amused.

“Right,” says Steve, pointing at Will in recognition. “Way too loud. Mike, where’s your parents?”

There’s a beat, and then the girl standing next to the red head quietly says, “Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler aren’t home.”

Steve sighs. “Alright, well, you could always act like idiots inside the house, you know.” He looks at the dark-haired boy holding the hose. “Mike, what are you doing with that?”

The boy’s face breaks out into a devilish grin, and you can predict what’s about to happen. He points the hose at Steve and a curly haired boy turns the handle to let the water spray out, missing Steve by a hair. He jumps back.

“HEY!” he shouts. “Not cool dude, not in my uniform!”

“Wimp,” you laugh, and push him forward, allowing him to get splashed. The kids cheer, and then Steve’s hands are on your arms, and he swings you around to get hit, too. You gasp at the freezing feeling on the back of your legs, but burst into laughter, trying to wrestle Steve back into the flow. This goes on for entirely too long before you suddenly realize that it probably isn’t a good look to be out here responding to a call and then partaking in the offense.

“Steve,” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to snap back into reality.

“This is fun and all,” he says, letting you go. “But we came to bust you, not join in.”

The curly haired boy turns the water off and Mike sets the hose down. Steve has a way with kids. He’s able to level with them and call them out at the same time. It’s pretty great to watch and it’s certainly something you admired him for.

“Who’s this?” the curly haired kid asks, grinning widely.

“Oh,” Steve says. “This is my partner, Y/N.”

“Do you get to carry a gun?”

“Lucas!”

“Sorry!”

“You hang out with Steve? That must suck,” the dark-haired boy, Mike, says.

“Every single day,” you say solemnly. “It’s the worst.”

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

“I’m kidding, bud.” You punch his arm lightly. “You’re the best.”

You look back at the kids and they’re all staring at you with wide eyes. It makes you uncomfortable, so you clear your throat and say, “Well, uh – shift is almost over. We should be going.”

After an awkward farewell and another “please be quiet or I’ll kick your ass” from Steve, you both get in the patrol car. Steve sees Dustin gesture to call him, and he rolls his eyes, pulling out of the driveway.

“Why did they look at me like that?” you ask. “Because I said you’re the best?” You pause. “Do they hate you?”

He’s quiet for a while. Finally, he says, “I think it’s because we are really buddy-buddy but… I don’t really… I haven’t ever really… talked about you.”

You turn in your seat to face him. “Do you hate me?”

“Of course I don’t hate you.” His cheeks are red – he’s flustered. “You’re one of my best friends –“

“Then why don’t you ever talk about me? Or hang out with me?”

“It’s complicated,” he sighs. “It’s really complicated. I just – I don’t like … I get nervous about having new friends.”

You nod slowly. “Tommy H. and Carol.”

“Yeah.” It’s not really why he’s nervous, but it’s a good excuse. “I don’t want to get dicked over again.”

“Man,” you say, turning back to face the road. “I buy you a blueberry danish every single Monday. And a coffee. And I let you sing Queen at the top of your lungs, and I let you dance, and sometimes I even let you do it at 5 in the morning. I think if I didn’t want to be your friend, you would know by now.”

He’s quiet, thinking. You look at him, trying to read him.

“I guess I owe you the pleasure of hanging out with me,” he says after a while, a smile forming. “So maybe we can hang out Friday night.”

You gasp and throw your arm out, hitting him on the shoulder, making the car swerve slightly.

“Jesus –”

“Do you mean it?” you shout, smiling widely. “We can hang out?”

“I said maybe,” he teases. “It’s board game night with the kids – maybe you can come?”

You start chanting his name – “Steve Steve Steve Steve Steve! Really? Are you for real?”

“Yes!” He laughs and rolls his eyes again. “I’ll pick you up. It starts at 7.”

You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Steve silently hopes he doesn’t regret this.

----

taglist (message if you want to join!): @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #lets hope the tags WORK #also this is literally my 3rd draft for the start of this story lmao ugh #couldn't choose a direction/it wasn't funny enough the first 2 times #so hopefully this one works #my fics #do u guys like the warning for 80s music #me? comedy gold? absolutely not but I make myself laugh n that's what matters

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instantlyexhaustedowl · 3 years

Text

"He was my first love... And only one."

Summary:

Old photos, one old love and two not that old twins. A bit of talking after Weirmaggedon. Stan listening to his bro-bro memories about college lover.

Notes:

Please be kind to me, it's my first fanfic in English and also my first fanfic i have ever posted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580418

Ford was nostalgically sorting old photoes. Wrinkled paper gently rustled in his weary hands. All those memories, forgotten things with distand feeling of lost love, whole past in his worn out hands. "Ya look sad, bro," Stan's voice broke the silence of Ford's room. His twin was looking at him with curious brown eyes covered with thick glasses. He leaned on the doorframe.

Older twin smiled sligtly, running his polydactyl hands thru grey hairs. Fingers touched silver stripe that cut thru dark grey hairs. He felt suddenly old and exhausted. "Just... Overthinking past, i guess." He patted spot on the sofa next to himself, showing that companion is welcome.

"Pics?" asked carefully Stanley. His mind was still a bit wobbly, but he remembered nearly everything. Definitely good sign. Stan sheepishly sat next to Ford on the sofa. Old matress swayed under his weight and caused, that Ford leaned a bit agaist Stan's shoulder. "What? Oh, yeah... Pictures. Old ones." said author of the journals with sigh while his hands gently folded photos on the lap. "Hehe, 'm probably not in your colection,... Hey that one... that guy looks cute," chuckled his brother. He pointed at picture of tall smiling boy, maybe a bit older than twenty-one. Long sand blond hair, big blue eyes brightly shining with happines were hinding partly behind small round glasses. That noodle nerd had two daysies tucked behind his ear, big smile on his face. He looked like hippie college student. "Yeah... Fantastic old friend of mine. Wait! It...He is a man. Why do you think he is cute?" suddenly asked Ford. Stan was ladies man. Why he would think something like that?! Stanley blushed. His eyes wondered over room. Now seemed every piece of furniture like super interesting. "Ehh...No comment?" "No Stanley. We should be more honest with each other. We spend enought of our time pushing each other away. I just want to know why do you think that. No judgement, only curiosity." Old man mumbled something. Then he scooted away from Ford. Scietinst seemed a bit concerned. His brother was always the one who wanted to feel the others presence, but this was different. He was suddenly so shy. Ford like physical contact too but only from persons he loved and liked. Stanley was different- he loved patting peoples shoulder, hugging them even thou they were strangers. His attention was like contact sport. And sometimes it could change into one when that person made him angry. Ford's attention thou. It was more about reading between lines. "Pardon, Lee? I didn't understand." "I said... That i dated men too," sighed Stanley. His fingers were twiching. Eyes were trying to burned thru the floor into the heart of the Earth. He made himself look tiny. Whole body curled into himself. Ford's mouth formed into small silent "oh". "'m sorry... Gonna vanish, don't worry." "Are you crazy, Lee?! No vanishing, no going away." "But..." it was strange. Stanley could brake a montain with bare hands and now... He looked so vulnurable. Like scared teen he once was- standing outside in the middle of warm spring night hoping that Ford could forgive him. "But 'm nothing just familly disapointment. Stupid big idiot and even gay..." "If you say it one more time, i will punch you. Without warning! You are not disapointment! You are my best friend i have ever had and best twin brother i could wish for!" "Poindexer, i am weird old fag!" "Probably not. And that is absolutely horrible word, do not use it, please! You did loved Carla, hm." "And some other girls..." admited Stanley with blush of embarassment. "So you are bisexual. You like both." "'m not picky type," shrugged younger brother with hint of smile. He seemed more comfortable now. Hands put on his knees, eyes still sticked to the ground but he didn't look like persone who wanted to crawl under the rock and stay there for next few milleniums. "I am fag... At least that would Pa called me... If he had knew about it..." "That explains lots of things... And highschool," mumbled Stan scooting back so they shoulders touched again. "Pardon me?!" shrieked Ford. "You were curious only about science. And why girls didn't talk to you! Nothing was about girls, only why they kept ignoring you," explained Stan. Ford blinked few times, his face making pretty good impression of confuesed owl. Stanley was smugly smiling: "I've knew the whole time that you are not straight. 'm glad that Pa never knew about it thou. He would kick ya out too, maybe beat ya...Ya would never make it out unharm, on the streets..." "You were the one that ended up there... I can not forgive myself," two big tears started to roll down. Ford tried to dry them with his sleeve. "Poindexter, let it be. We are here, we are good..." "And gay," added Ford with tiny smile. Roaring of Stan's laught filled the room: "YEAH, we are gay! SO ... Who was that cutie? First crush?" His eyebrows wiggled in devilish way. "First crush, first love and only one. He took my heart without asking and never gave it back..." His brother wrapped arm around his shoulders. "You are old sappy man, Ford." "I know. I... Everything could be so different." "What happened?" asked younger twin. He hated seeing Ford depressed. "First time he went back to his family, after a while he had one too. And later when we found each other... Portal happened." "Sixer! I ... I caused...! Did I....?" Stanford grabbed old photos. He hold them on his chest, close to his fast-beating heart. "It was my fault, we had huge arguement and split up. I should have listened to him, but i was the biggest idiot on this Earth!" Stanley suddenly gasped. "You were dating McGucket?! Old man MCGUCKET?! Oh holy hot Belgian waffles!" "Kids aren't home," snarkyly pointed out Ford still carressing his pictures. "In that case- FUCK!" Small smile crept on scientist's face. "May i tell you a story, Lee?" asked Ford. He looked way younger now. Shy blush on his cheeks, still a bit teary eyes behind glasses. But they were light up with memories. "Yep, ya nerd. I haven't heard romantic novel for a long time! Ok i saw one last night. But i want to hear yar romance," beamed happily Stan and made himsleft comfortable. He was now sprawled on sofa, legs streched infront of him, hands folded on his soft belly. "So...Tell me yar fairytale, bro-bro." "Lee you are so silly," nudged Stan's elbow Ford playfully. "Fine. Long time ago... Ok, i am really getting old and silly. We were college roomates. I liked him first time i saw him. He was true opposite of me. Emotinal, empathic, wonderfully talented. His genius was amazing. After a while we got closer and closer. Fidds was so carring, nearly motherly. You should saw him when i was ill. I phoned dad, that i needed some money... to see a doctor, cause i felt really awful. He... shouted at me- to be a man and sleep it off. So i tried it. And fainthed during one of our classes we had together. Fidds did knew what to do, he took care about me. Got me to our room, helped in bed where i stayed for next week barely knowing about world. I don't remember much, my fever was too high. All seemed like a dream. After i got better i found him sitting on the window frame. His eyes were looking into starry night, silently crying. He was aftraid about me whole week and...He finally snapped... We started dating few days later." Ford had tears on his cheeks while he hold old pictures like precious treasure. His hands were clutching them, only gems he had from his past. Someone knock on the door frame. Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket stood there. He was dressed in jeans, silly shirt with watermelons and drinks on it. He had crazy bowler hat with daisy that kept danggling. Still with beard that could belong to the oldest wizzard in the Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons, but under it was hidden smile. "I swear Stanferd, ma biggest mistake was leaving ya. And i fool made it twice!" Stanley looked at them with squint eyes trying to seem like he fall asleep. "Stop foolin' us, ya'r great conman, but that's horrible try," laugh Fidds hopping on the sofa from Ford's free side. He covered one six-fingered hand with his small one. They fitted perfectly, like two pieces of puzzles. Maybe their hands were a bit cold, but hearts were still aflame with passion and love. "I guess now i've to keep an eye on two nerds," sighed Stanley. "Have fun ya two, i am gonna go to... Don't know. Want a coffee?" "Yeah we will join you," smiled Ford when Fiddleford hugged his waist. "Yej, coffee is great idea pals!" "Gentlemen, we will have gayffee party!" clasped his big hands Stanley and went to the kitchen, chuckling because he liked that new horrible pun. Ford froze a bit and then shouted: "Do not tell this term in front of Mable! Or we all end up covered in rainbow glitters! I don't mind them but i certainly don't like to drink them with my coffee!" "WHO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT RAINBOW GLITTEEEEEERS???????!" "Mabel, calm down! Honey, put that bottle of rainbow disaster down!"

#grunkle stan #grunkle ford #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #not a stancest #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddle/author #Fidlleauthor #fiddleford+ford #my fanfinction #fiddauthor

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impishnature · 4 years

Text

Stray Feelings

AO3 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: G

A/N: Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy this <3 Also I think the prompt speaks for itself. Theres Feral!Ford and there’s fluffy animals.

Stan wasn't meant to be gone this long.

There was a strange atmosphere around the Shack as Ford paced, quick sharp steps and tapping fingers. Stan had a routine. He may not realise it but he did. Through the week he probably knew; get up, get dressed, work, go out on the porch to relax or in front of the TV if the weather was rough, sleep, rinse and repeat. That was simple, it made sense and Ford could integrate himself easily enough. At the weekend, or on days off, it was calmer and things could change if he only asked, Stan happy to jump at the chance to spend time together. But certain things were always the same, Stan got up, made himself a warm drink and sat on the porch for half an hour before coming in to make them both a breakfast that set off the rest of the day.

Only.

Stan hadn't come inside yet.

And deep down there was a voice laughing at him that it was nothing, that Stan was just taking his time and that was that. It was his day off, he was allowed, he didn't have to jump to Ford's whims and fancies.

But the much louder voices were the ones that itched to check up on him, to make sure he hadn't gone past the barrier or done something equally reckless. The alarm bells that clogged up his throat and set his heart racing so that he couldn't call out and get him to come back inside. It wasn't like Stan to deviate, he was a creature of habit and kept himself to himself, straying from the pattern set off too many warning signals for him to ignore.

And so he paced.

And the time Stan took outside stretched and stretched.

Until the 'what ifs' and awful cackling laughter got too much and he propelled himself at the door, brain ready and expecting a threat.

"Jesu- Sixer!"

The door cracked against the wooden wall and Stan yelped like he'd shot at him.

Ford blinked, the light outside blinding in it's intensity as he scouted for a threat in the distance, too amped up to wait for them to adjust. He could feel Stan in his peripheral, stumbling up from the floor and it only added to his anxious, heightened senses.

What was he doing down there?

"Easy, Ford, what's going on? What's happened?"

Ford frowned, finally turning to him as he groaned and stood up properly. He darted to his side, lifting him up and depositing him into the porch chair to another disgruntled yelp at his manhandling. Had he fallen? Why hadn't he called out for me?

Stan slapped his fluttering hands away, gently but still frustrated. "Sixer, I'm fine! Just tell me what's happened." His eyes were soft, searching Ford's face as he loomed above him. "I can't help if you don't tell me, Ford. Breathe."

"I-I-" Ford stared back at him, head tilting ever so slightly. It was easier to breathe now that it was obvious Stan was OK, and that meant the words flowed just that little bit easier. "You- uhm-"

And suddenly everything felt that much more childish and unnecessary.

The laughing, cackling voice from before suffocating the paranoid voices.

Paranoid.

"Nothing. Doesn't-"

"Oi. Don't do that. Whatever it is, it matters."

But did it really?

He didn't want Stan to worry about him more than he already did.

"Ford."

But perhaps that ship had already sailed.

"I- that is-" Ford huffed, scrubbing at the back of his neck as he stood up. "You were taking longer than usual."

Stan raised an eyebrow, though there was a strangely sheepish tilt to his mouth that he couldn't quite hide. "O-oh?"

"You usually, uhh, you tend to only stay out here for a little while-"

Understanding dawned on his brother's face and Ford's heart sank guiltily. "Or I tell you if I'm going somewhere, don't I? Shoot, sorry. I just lost track of time."

"No, no." Ford held up his hands. "I still overreacted."

Stan shrugged, an apologetic smile still on his face. "Well, perhaps next time I lose track of time, you'll remember this time."

Ford tried to smile back but he knew it wasn't fully working from Stan's expression. "Hopefully."

"Or you could always join me- maybe with less fanfare next time." Stan's smile turned more mocking, a sibling grin beginning to stretch from ear to ear.

Ford groaned. "Don't give me that look. But yes, next time, I'll- do my best to just check on you."

Stan shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's very calming out here in the mornings."

Ford stared at him for a few moments. He'd always assumed this was Stan's quiet time, away from the world, away from- well, him as well. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Stan's face brightened, as if he'd just won an argument before his face fell again and suddenly he began searching at his feet. "Shoot. Wait, where'd it go?"

"...Stan?"

Ford watched as Stan almost forgot he was there, head snapping to him for a second before going back to his search. "Oh, right, well I did say I lost track of time. I kind of got distracted." He started making a strange noise with his mouth, soft clicks and pursed lips. It was a sound Ford was sure he'd heard before, but given all of his travels, everything had become jumbled together into a mix of signals, either angry or pleasant. This one came under the pleasant category at least, though his hackles still raised ever so slightly at the thought of another creature being on their porch that he hadn't even noticed.

He stayed silent, watching Stan's shoulders lock up even as he continued his hunt.

"So, right- this little thing came padding up to me while I was sat here. And I was going to come in and talk to you! But I didn't know what your thoughts were on strays and the like... so I was trying to come up with a good way to broach the subject and-"

He was starting to get agitated, and Ford couldn't have that.

It felt like he'd started this downward spiral.

"Slow down." Stan flinched and Ford hated it. "I didn't mean- just tell me calmly-"

A soft mew punctuated both of their words.

Ford watched as Stan leaned over as far as he could, a little pink nose peeking out from under the porch seat.

"There you are!"

He placed his hand within reaching distance, the little nose sniffing at his fingers before warily popping a whole head out and glancing up at Ford with worried eyes and downwards ears.

Ahh. He'd spooked it.

He squatted down beside the seat, hoping to appear smaller and less threatening, as the small creature shimmied it's way out of it's hiding spot and rubbed against Stan's hand, still watching him carefully. It was a skinny little thing, he could almost see ribs, but it seemed happy enough at the attention Stan was doting upon it. It was grey, though he was unsure on how much of that was dirt versus actual colouration, with short tufted little whiskers and big ears that it had yet to grow into. It mewed at him again, tiny teeth making their presence known as big brown eyes continued to stare at him.

"See? It's just a kitten." Stan's face was locked onto the little thing as if it were Mabel at her cutest. One of his fingers was big enough to scritch it's chin and it seemed happy to sit there and bask in the attention. "It stumbled out of the woods when it heard me. Even fell over half way along the trail like the kids did sometimes when they were too excited to just walk." He cooed at it ever so softly, Ford wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't heard it. "And- I don't-" He frowned, eyes darting to Ford. "Guess I've always had a thing about looking after strays."

Ahh.

Ford could understand that.

After everything, he could see Stan doing that.

Besides, as much as he had to fend for himself in his travels, and his hardships had been innumerable, sometimes you just couldn't resist helping someone or something else in need as well, regardless of the danger it put you in.

Ford put his hand out slowly to the kitten, extending the olive branch and waiting patiently for it to accept or reject him. It at least looked curiously at him from behind Stan's hand. "What were you worried about?"

Stan swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I dunno. I mean, it is your house and your rules so. I guess I was scared you'd say no and I'd have to try and hide this little one on the porch so I could still feed 'em."

Ford was mildly offended. "It's our house." Stan looked at him strangely at that. Oh, had he never actually said it before? "It is."

Stan continued to stare before his smile widened again. "Alright, it's our house. But that still means it has to be a joint decision on looking after this little one until we find it a good home."

"Hmm..." Ford gave the kitten a joking once over as it slowly plodded over to him. "I mean it doesn't seem like a threat."

Stan snorted, Ford grinning along with him as he achieved what he'd hoped. "I swear to god if I find you running tests..."

"Well, you can never be too sure." Ford continued to smile as a cold, wet nose hit his finger, but his eyes trailed over to a little wonky tail and skinny legs. "Though I think any tests would be to check how healthy this little guy is."

"There's a vet for that."

"I'm better than a vet."

Ford could feel the eye roll he received but his focus was fixated on the little creature that was now too filled with curiosity to be cautious. It sniffed his hand, and then his coat, continuing up until both front paws were on his knees and a little face was stretching up to sniff his. He leaned down, letting the small creature continue its ministrations, scoping him out in a way that made him oddly proud but also oddly protective of the little child that didn't seem to understand that he could also be a threat.

He scooped the little thing up, pulling it into his chest. There was a soft yelp and more searching eyes as Stan started to tell him off but then the kitten relaxed, curling up into his arms against his chest. His heart was still beating fast from the earlier worries and the strange conversation but as the kitten relaxed against him, he could feel the tension easing.

It evaporated entirely when a soft purr emanated from the tiny body, slipping into his chest and warming him from the inside out.

"We're keeping them."

Stan beamed, fist pumping ever so slightly like they were teenagers again. "Yes! I'll go out later and grab some food and see if anyone's looking for a kitten-"

"No."

Stan paused. "What?"

"We're keeping them."

And with that Ford stood up, kitten still in hand and walked into the house, happily rejoicing at the peace the small creature was giving him as it purred in his grasp.

He heard an exasperated and confused voice behind him as Stan tried to catch up. "...Well, alright then. Guess that's that decided-"

He was sure Stan wouldn't mind.

After all, it had been his idea in the first place to look after the stray.

And they both knew deep down that once you were family to Stan, that was it for life.

He could pretend all he wanted, he'd have never been able to give the kitten up once he was attached to it.

And Ford was pretty sure from his earlier arguments and that fond expression he'd worn that it had already happened.

Yeah, he was sure Stan would forgive him.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #gravity falls fanfiction #feral!ford au

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in-my-head-i-do-everything-right · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Basically the entirety of “I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys but more specifically “secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours

secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. maybe I just wanna be yours

In October, while she’s still riding the high of absolutely demolishing Greg Dewey in mock trial, she finds out that the hot guy who’s always standing outside the library after her 3 PM post mock trial coffee break was the one who said that shitty thing about her sister two years ago while walking out of a debate competition—a competition Allie is ninety percent sure he won, by the way. And sure, he looks hot as fuck leaning against that exposed brick in his Tom Ford coat. Which, arguably is his right. To look hot. But, still.

He said the shitty thing about her sister. Allie’s still a little pissed about that. Which is her right.

“You’re Harry Bingham, right?” she asks, just to make sure. God, his name is so… Waspy. Pure Wasp. Bingham. She’s bets his family came over on the Mayflower. She bets they’re proud of that.

He smirks down at her. Smirks. He literally smirks. “Who’s asking?”

She can’t get over the smirk. Like, is it hot? Yes. Is she incredibly annoyed at him already? Big yes. “Who do you think is asking?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. It’s a really nice navy. Allie’s honestly a big fan of the coat. “If you’re asking…”

“It’s a yes or no question,” she snaps, her arms flailing a little, her coffee sloshing around in her cup. She paid five dollars for it from the student run coffee shop and she doubts it was at all worth it. But she made a promise, okay? A promise to her sister that she’d support small businesses. Which has pretty much only meant stopping with the daily Starbucks, but Cassandra doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I’m Harry Bingham. Why?” How was that smooth? No, Allie would seriously like to know. How did he make that sound smooth? How is that possible?

“Did you do debate in high school?”

His brow scrunches. His head tilts. He still looks hot. “Why—”

“Another yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where this conversation is going in real time, “I did debate in high school.”

She smiles. It’s not a proper smile, more of a half-smile. A smug smile? Doesn’t matter. “Great. Do you remember Cassandra Pressman?”

Harry’s face lights up briefly, probably with recognition. “Yeah, I remember Cassandra. She’s hard to forget. Very… intense.”

“Well,” Allie says, stretching out the word. God, she hates men. “I’m her sister, and from what I can remember, you said some pretty shitty stuff about her, and were, just in general, a complete and total asshole.”

“Excuse—”

“A misogynistic asshole, actually. And you know what, this coffee is shit anyway so—” In one fluid movement, an honestly graceful movement, a movement that Allie is—no matter how disappointed she knows her parents will be in her—proud of, she dumps her shitty five dollar coffee all over the front of his Tom Ford coat.

He lets out this pained sounding gasp that half resembles a mess of curses, and she walks away victorious and mostly guilt free.

Two hours later, he follows her on Instagram. She does not follow him back (even though she thinks about it because… hot dude), and that feels really good too.

With a start like that, they shouldn’t make it anywhere. Still…

In November, she runs into him in line at the student run coffee shop. Which just furthers the point that she needs to stop going there.

“Allie Pressman,” he says, and if he wasn’t so hot, so might be a little creeped out. But, also, she does know his name. So maybe they’re even?

“Hi,” she says, semi-awkwardly. About as awkward as can be expected when you run into the guy you dumped a whole coffee on. Also, turns out setting was not what was making him so attractive. No surprises there, but still something to take note of.

“Thought you said the coffee here was shitty.”

She purses her lips. “Well, I have Pfeiffer this semester, so while the coffee here is,” she lowers her voice just a little. God, she loves being dramatic, “incredibly shitty, I definitely need the caffeine.”

“Oh,” he visibly winces, “sorry about Pfeiffer’s class.” And, then, just before they reach the front of the line, “Let me buy you a coffee? To make up for the fact that you will be getting very little sleep this semester?”

She tilts her head to the side. Who the fuck is this boy, and how much is he willing to spend on coffee? “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee. Because… well, you know.”

It’s a half-grin half-smirk this time. And it is, arguably, much more disarming. “My friends and I have taken to calling it The Incident,” he supplies, and oh he’s funny too. Fuck.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” She is not, in fact, at all sorry about The Incident. However, Hot Guy (he does have a name, and she does know said name, but… well) is about to buy her a coffee, and judging by the Rolex on his wrist, price does not matter.

He shrugs. “I had it coming. And I’m sorry about the shit I said about Cassandra.” Allie’s mouth doesn’t necessarily fall open, but it almost falls open, and that counts for something. White boy admits he made a mistake. This is first page news. “I was stupid and upset and probably a little high. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He levels her this easy grin. This content grin. This… I am one step ahead of you grin. “I messaged your sister on Facebook a very lengthy and somewhat heartfelt apology a year ago.”

They are officially at the front of the line. Allie does not care. “Cassandra hasn’t checked her Facebook since 2018.”

“That sounds like a her problem.”

Allie ignores that. “Hi,” she says to the cashier. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso please.”

Harry looks equal parts disgusted and appreciative. And a little bit concerned. Which is valid. “Small black coffee for me.”

“And can I also get one of those brownies, and two of those turkey shaped sugar cookies,” she turns to him. Spending someone else’s money on food is fun. “Don’t they just look so cute?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding amused and looking way too endeared. “They look very cute. You plan on sharing with me?”

She should not be playing along with this. “Maybe.”

He follows her outside, catching the door and holding it open for her. It’s raining, which sorta sucks, but she has no plans on actually sitting down with this boy. That feels like a step too far.

Only, then—“My place is just around the corner,” he says, so fucking casually. And, God, how is she supposed to respond to that? “I’ll trade you one of those cookies for my notes from Pfeiffer’s course.”

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This is not good. “You paid for the cookies.”

“I know.”

Fuck.

“Okay, let’s go to your place.”

They have sex five times over the course of a week before her conscious tells her to stop. Then, she tries avoiding him for the rest of November but gives up two days after Thanksgiving. Because she’s not immune to anybody who calls to offere her left over pumpkin pie, okay. Fucking sue her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says right off the bat, and he lets out this laugh that involves him throwing his head back. And that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and she should not be feeling this warm inside because it is literally snowing right now.

“Where should you be, Pressman?”

“Studying for my polisci midterm.”

He continues looking at her way too fondly. Her cheeks flush a pale pink. She blames the change in temperature. “You have Craven?”

“Yeah.”

He does this little waving motion that is much hotter than it should be. One day she will find a thing he looks unattractive doing. Today is not the day. “Don’t even worry about it. Easiest test I ever took.”

“I should still probably be studying for it.”

He shakes his head, and that makes her laugh even though she very much does not want to. “You seem pretty smart. Don’t worry about it.”

That was… comforting.

“You know, I kinda like what we have going,” he says, and nope her heart should not be beating anywhere near as hard as it is. Is she having a heart attack? Oh, God, is she about to die? Is she about to die in Harry Bingham’s apartment? Cassandra is going to be so disappointed.

“And what exactly is this that we have going?” she manages to get out. Yeah, Allie can practically taste Cassandra’s disappointment.

“Eating baked goods and having sex. Obviously.”

She chokes on her bite of pumpkin pie.

“So if you wanna get dinner sometime…” he continues, as though she is not choking right in front of him.

She manages to dislodge the piece of pumpkin pie in her throat. If that shit wasn’t so fucking delicious, she would be swearing it off right now. “Would you be paying?”

He looks surprised. That counts as a victory. “Yes?”

“Then no, I’m good.”

“Why?” he asks, just a little too quickly, and, yeah, his composure is entirely gone, and they are once more on an equal playing field. Arguably, she might have the upper hand right now. Which is nice.

“Because that sounds a lot like a date, and I do not want to date you.”

To his credit, he only looks sort of hurt. She takes another bite of that pumpkin pie. Who cares if it might kill her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister’s high school debate rival, and that just feels a little too it’s a small world for me.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it’s a valid one, isn’t it?”

“No, not really.” Well. At least he’s being honest.

“Look, Harry.” First name and everything. This is called progress. “You’re nice and all—really great baked goods—but Cassandra would give me that disappointed face if it ever came out that I’m… associated with you. And, honestly, I can’t handle that right now. Mentally—nope. Not happening.” She sounds flustered. She feels flustered.

“Okay?” She is taking that answer as a win.

“Great!” Too bright. “Hopefully we can stay friends? Or at least the type of acquaintances who buy the other fun shaped sugar cookies and give them the notes to classes so they have a chance to not fail.”

He stares at her, a bit like he doesn’t think she’s real, like he’s marveling at everything that she is. That or she has pumpkin pie crumbs all over her face. And, then: “Actually,” he starts, and oh God, this is not going to go her way is it?

“What?” she says very slowly.

“You know what?”

“What?” She repeats.This is already getting annoying.

“You know what’s hot?”

“What?” (But with additional fear this time.)

“Secret relationships.”

Oh. Oh Fuck.

She doesn’t have an argument for that.

Honestly, that’s probably the moment that it all starts.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

#lol i doubt this is what you wanted #so i'm sorry abt that #this also Does Not address the prompt #i kept telling myself that it would #nope #never happened #this is more the start to a very long and somewhat angsty fic about them in a not-a-relationship relationship #but then i got bored #maybe i'll finish it one day #(also. to the person who just sent all those folklore lyrics. i see you. and i cannot wait to write angst.)#hallie #the society #drabble

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moviediary · 4 years

Text

She’s All That (1999)

Rich and popular makes a bet with his “friend”, whose personality is pretty much summed up by the fact that he has frosted tips, that he can turn any girl into the prom queen after getting dumped by his longtime girlfriend.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love this movie, but every time I watch it I can’t help but be amazed at how absurd it is. I mean, cliché plot aside, every individual piece that makes up this 1 hour and 30 minute ode to the individual is completely insane. What universe does this take place in? What high school do they go to?

That being said, I really like the opening shots to this movie, it definitely gives you a good introduction to the main character. Laney Boggs. She’s political and messy and 100% down to her bones an art student. She isn’t afraid to be dark.

In contrast I feel like the first meeting of the main love interest really doesn’t set him up to be who the writers want you to think he is. I mean he rolls up to school in a bright yellow Jeep with a Mr. Prez vanity plate. Then you see his shoes when he gets out of the car, fuckin’ ugly ass leather loafers. I’m sorry I know this means nothing I just have a hard time believing this jock wears these fucking shoes they’re so god damn ugly.

Every moment that introduces him makes it seem like he should be the villain, he has pretty much no redeeming qualities that we can see besides his wit (barely) and good looks. I just don’t understand why we’re supposed to like him, this is Sixteen Candles all over again. Hot rich guy, is an asshole, for some reason I still root for and love him. How does that work? What makes these characters so grossly likable? I mean, his name is Zack. That alone raises a red flag for me. That’s a frat boy asshole name. Zacks are friends of Kyle that’s all I’m saying.

Once we get through his painfully douchey introduction we get introduced to Zack’s equally douchey friends frosted tips and Gus from psych. (don’t ask me what their actual names are it’s not important anyway, that is essentially their personalities) The first thing we hear is them talking about summer break and their vacations, further driving home how rich they are and how weird it is that adults write movies about teenagers having gratuitous amounts of sex with adults. Then Zach tries unsuccessfully to say something philosophical about them graduating soon (I have to keep reminding myself that he’s supposed to have like the 4th highest GPA in their class) They then meet the most 90s girls I have ever seen. Who I guess are supposed to be popular? One thing I do like is how diverse all the characters are, they don’t all look exactly the same which I feel tends to be a problem with high school movies.

So we finally meet the “popular girl” Taylor Vaughn, Zack’s girlfriend and she immediately breaks up with him (which honestly is probably a good idea anyway) and his “friends” fucking laugh at him which he really had coming. I mean. Look at his hair.

This launches what is probably one of my favorite narrated flashback scenes of all time, not because the topic is particularly interesting but because I love the way they have Zach interrupt her inside of the flashback. It’s a very small addition that really gives the scene style. Also we see this hot girl start dating Shaggy??? Also one of the villains from the original Scream???( he only really plays one character.) Makes me laugh every time. Also makes me a little uncomfortable every time since she’s in high school and he’s who knows how old but whatever not important. This also leads to one of my favorite exchanges in the whole movie.

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Taylor wraps up her spring break story time with one of the rawest lines I've ever seen in a 90s movie (she really did that to him) and the director throws in a classic high school movie trope, everyone actually caring enough to stop and watch this exchange. And while I usually hate this kind of character worship, since this movie is already so bizarre and unrealistic it actually kinda fits

We then cut to Laney’s art class which includes her teacher that for some reason thinks her art isn’t personal enough and two clown obsessed Lydia Deetz knock offs. I have to say I do love this part where the art students literally suggest that she kill herself in order to have her art recognized. Very realistic conversation between art students.

That whole scene is really funny though because it doesn’t feel like it belongs in this movie. Even the music doesn't fit which is only emphasized by the sudden bell ringing transition back into a stereotypical high school movie. It reminds me of movies like the craft, the way it’s cut together, the way the characters talk, how Laney just stares straight ahead after not saying anything. It seems like she could have chosen a completely different movie to be in. Like if the movie was a chose your own adventure, she could have been in a different genre entirely and the movie would have been about her and those girls faking her death to get recognition and make money from her paintings. which would have been sick. but that isn't the movie I’m watching. Which I’m reminded of when fucking Zack comes back on screen.

Also right before the scene where the actual bet is introduced we meet the school’s resident DJ??? which isn’t important at all but is so strange that I feel the need to point it out. Like they don’t just have a guy who does the announcements they have like a disc jockey who is just there all the time??? There are just so many little things in this movie that make it so weird.

So fucking Brock pukashells pulls up and Zach just flips. Which is understandable it is a very gross moment but he just fucking goes off about Taylor and how she’s not that great and he could get with any girl in the school. His friends point out that bitch boy forgot that Taylor Vaughn is “an institution” and basically Zach with tits. She’s very important. This is something I never get about movies like this, has anyone actually been to a high school where someone was that well known. But also not liked? Like sure she’s hot, but she’s also a grade A bitch to everyone. and according to Zach nothing more than a C minus GPA in a Wonderbra.

Once you get through the misogyny plus ultra scene and they finally make the bet, frosted tips has picked the girl Zach has to turn into the prom queen. Scary inaccessible Laney Boggs. He’s got 6 weeks to make her popular. He starts off his first exchange with her in the best way possible. By calling her brother Spaz (as his name). Again, we’re supposed to like this guy I think. I don’t know when he’s supposed to become a likable character but I can’t imagine it’s during all these scenes where he just legit insults people.

I also love all of the clips we get to see from Brock’s time on The Real World Which make me really question why all the girls fan girl over him given that he’s actually the worst, even on the show. We also get introduced to Zack’s sister who probably should have been a lesbian given how queer coded her character is besides the fact that she desperately wants a boyfriend. She even goes to an all girls school it would have been perfect. But alas, this movie is gay-less.

We are then introduced to another b-plot in this movie, Zack’s indecision about college. This was I guess to make him more human? or something? To sort of flesh him out and give him problems but honestly he doesn't have any problems. Later in the movie Laney points this out to him, he can do whatever he wants. This whole college thing is resolved fairly quickly later in the film too, it’s not very important it’s just the only thing we see about Zack besides being a perfect high schooler throughout the whole movie. Well that and his terrible performance art and being an asshole.

After we see that Zack has been accepted by every Ivy League school and their mother (I’m not jealous I swear) we take a brief Taylor being a bitch detour before getting back to Zack making an ass of himself. This time he’s bothering Laney at her job which is awesome we love that. Again I don’t know why we like this guy he does like 3 nice things the whole movie. Anyway she gets defensive like she always does and he fumbles around trying to talk like he’s a normal person and not a walking cliché and then there’s this really strange exchange where he tries to asked her for help in art classes and she says “you don’t take art” and he’s like “how do you know?” and she’s like “Why haven't I seen you in any of my classes?” and like, I get what they were going for but what kind of high school is this? how does she have time to take more than one art class? How is she already an art major before she’s in college that’s not how high school works. I only ever had one school where I could take more than two extra curriculars and that was in middle school and it was only because they fucked up and put me in four hours of study hall and so I just went to all of the art classes that were offered. But that’s different. And am I way over analyzing this movie? yes. Does anyone but me care about this shit? probably not, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway.

I also really like Laney’s best friend who’s kind of just there, all the time, he’s such a good wing man. He also made the best excuse to get out of seeing that weird ass art show she’s in. He’s like, oh good I don’t have to see another Mitch show. He’s probably in his underwear in all of them, I wouldn’t want to go either. I think it really says something about the performance art world though, because this is probably the most believable part of the whole movie. If someone told me that his is just an actual performance art piece that they used in this movie I would absolutely believe them. Also one of the weird gremlins in this piece says what is probably my favorite quote ever which is “my soul is an island, my car is a Ford” like what the fuck is that I love that so much.

I really want to know how they came up with this shit, it’s so perfect. It also is another one of these parts in the movie that doesn’t really add anything. A lot of the movie is like this, I feel like 90% of this movie is weird filler scenes and the rest in plot. Like it’s so obvious how it’s going to end that you barely even need to watch most of the movie, and even when you do watch most of the movie it always kind of feels like it only half has something to do with the plot. I’m not even going to talk about the weird hacky Sack scene, I can’t handle how embarrassing and cringey it is I pretty much always skip through it. What a dick move of Laney’s to even put him in that situation. The whole “your eyes are really beautiful” scene is also really strange, both his lines and her reaction don’t really make sense. Through most of this movie when they actually talk to each other I feel like they don’t have any chemistry. It’s the same when he subtly blackmails her into going to the beach with him. He’s awkward and barely says anything that prompts a response and then she just goes full WOKE EMO on him and like, they really do have nothing in common I do not understand their relationship. And then his friends show up and he’s like, “If we’re gonna be friends we’ll have to deal with them eventually” which like, 1: wow get some friends you actually like maybe? And 2: how are you guys friends, you’ve barely ever managed to exchange civil words on screen. Actually maybe that makes sense, this is why he thinks this is okay (besides the whole bet thing) maybe he doesn’t realize he’s supposed to actually like his friends and girlfriend. Because it really seems like he doesn’t like any of them, which I get. Except for Gus (not his name but whatever) because that guy’s actually pretty funny and spends the whole movie calling frosted tips out whenever he sounds too much like Kenny from Can’t Hardly Wait.

The whole beach scene is kinda take it or leave it too, there are a lot of moments where we see Laney hang out with Zack and other people but honestly through the whole movie there really isn’t a whole lot of growth. We don’t actually really see them bond or talk, we’re supposed to believe their relationship is growing but I guess that must be happening off screen because I don’t see it.

One of my favorite parts is when Zack forces the JV soccer team to clean Laney’s house, the kid answering the jeopardy question and her dad just realizing they were there. Oh man, gets me every time. The makeover scene is also pretty cute, I always love those. Also the whole “new, not improved, but different Laney Boggs” thing is adorable and I appreciate it.

The evolving of the characters and their relationships don’t happen gradually, what little is actually shown is pretty much in like 3 parts, the opening, the party scene, and the end. The characters are very flat for most of the movie and they have very little personality, but the party scene is very fun to watch. From “Gracias, papi!” to Laney turning Misty into a clown, and then the Give it to Me dance sequence. And even though the characters haven’t really given me a good reason to care about them my heart still hurts a little for Laney when Taylor ruins her dress. That’s the thing about this movie, I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t like these characters, but I still do, and I have no idea why.

The Brock dumping Taylor thing was great, the parallel was expected but I actually think it added to the story. In fact most of the things after the party actually feel necessary to the movie which is nice. Even the soccer practice actually leads to something. I don’t know what it is about the 2nd quarter of this movie that feels so empty but whatever it is it’s enough that I saw a noticeable difference when I got to the third act of this movie.

It’s a small part but I also really love the alternative clubs that make signs in favor of Laney for prom queen. They’re just so fucking funny to me. I mean, Hygiene club? Prisoners club??? What?

Then they pull another fast feelings thing on me again. They throw the mom painting scene at me and like, wow that’s sad. Then Zack tries to garner sympathy for the problems that he makes for himself. Then boom they flip on me again they’re cute and I like them. Then she says that weird thing about prom and he just dips man. And like, Why do they gotta do me like that? I cannot seem to decide if I like these characters or not it’s so weird how this dialogue is written.

And then the dream happens? Definitely one of the best scenes in the whole movie. So fucking perfect. It really just adds to the weird slight surrealness of this whole movie.

Then we go back to the school and suddenly everyone is dressing like Laney? In support I guess? Again can I just ask what fucking school they go to? And then there’s the beat boxing scene? Where they rap about who’s gonna be prom queen? I’ve never even met anybody that invested in the outcome of who’s gonna be prom queen except for those running. I don’t even think I know anybody who voted. Even so, I do love the beat box scene, they really spit some bars.

Also I just noticed that in that super fucked cafeteria scene, you can see Buffy make a cameo? Just a fun little trivia fact. But seriously that cafeteria scene is fucked. Like, the pubes on the pizza? I wish no one had thought of that ever. Also can I just say I would undoubtedly rather get my ass kicked than be forced to eat pubes. I don’t know what they were thinking that isn’t even a question.

It’s also really uncomfortable how good frosted tips is at acting like he’s not a douchebag. What a creep. If that were a real guy I’d be tempted to call him a sociopath. So gross. But I suppose it’s good for the story line.

The end of the movie wraps up pretty fast honestly. Zack’s dad and him finally communicate which fixes Zack’s only problem immediately because that’s just how easy it is. He was just projecting the whole time, his dad had literally no problems other than being a typical rich dad. Then of course we get another moment with the school DJ who I guess just gets to play and say what ever he wants whenever he wants. Am I the only one who thinks it’s really inappropriate how sexual that guy’s announcements about prom are? Maybe it’s just me and I had a really different high school experience but I feel like people are way too focused on sex when they make movies about high school. Other shit was going on you know? It’s just odd for me to think about grown adults writing and pitching this movie.

Zack really is such a bitch boy though, he doesn’t even try to explain anything to her, just lets her get hurt and lets Taylor be a bitch to her without saying anything. He doesn’t even try to tell her that frosted tips was just as much a part of it as he was. Honestly I kind of wish that frosted tips wasn’t such an asshole his whole heart to heart with her at the door before prom could have been really cute if I didn’t already know he was a lying scumbag. But I guess Laney just gets the lesser of the douchebags.

We finally get to the prom, inarguably the best part of the whole movie, all the little bits and pieces. The sex doll guy is always funny as hell. The DJ being the school DJ works really well brings a lot of closure to that whole weirdness. Also that dance scene is fucking great, has absolutely nothing to do with the plot, which actually works since about 40% of the things in this movie have nothing to do with the plot of this movie. I absolutely unironically tried to learn this dance, man I fucking wish prom was actually like this. I don’t know about you guys but for me, both of my proms were not nearly this theatrical. I spent my first one playing black jack the whole time and my senior prom was full of people that were way too white to dance. Anyway, Laney doesn’t win and she leaves early. Zack gives a pretty boring speech. Taylor goes off on everyone. Frosted tips tries to get Laney in bed and everyone gets upset.

The whole thing ends with Laney coming home to find Zach waiting for her to make sure she’s okay, which is sweet and all but like I can’t help wondering how long he had just been standing there waiting. Especially since it seemed like her dad was just ignoring him. That’s just a funny image to me. Anyway, they dance in the backyard. They kiss. It’s cute. Zack loses the bet so he accepts his diploma naked which I’m pretty sure is indecent public exposure but sure.

Overall it’s a very cute movie. The clichés are sort of made up for by all the weird 90s movie things. Plus it has a pretty great soundtrack. I know I sort of really went in on this movie but to be honest I really enjoy watching it. I’m not sure why. It’s pretty bad when you think about it any deeper than surface level. But it’s also just really fun and the characters are weird and there’s too many duffel bags to be normal and it’s just funny. It’s really weirdly funny. And it has that same non-conclusion that a lot of teen rom-coms have where they just can’t really give you all that much and just make sure they’re happy even if you know there is no way they can continue a relationship outside of high school. It may sound like it, but I’m not mad at it. If you haven’t already I’d say watch it. Watch it as a relaxing mindless good time activity. At the very least you won’t be bored, but if you get sympathy embarrassment like I do then maybe skip a few parts.

As of right now this movie is not available for free on any streaming sites (yes I own it on DVD don’t @ me)

Final Verdict:

Actual movie review: 6/10

How fun is it to watch?: 8/10

#she's all that #90s movies #movie review

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