#I’ve been converted I’m an emo now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeanearhart · 10 months

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Situation-Ship

Short story following the inner dialogue of a young man in his first (and last) gay relationship.

6086 words

JUNE

Love. We love to love. It’s inescapable, the media is polluted with love, our literature, every social event. First ten minutes at a party and your friend is asking, still seeing that girl? Turn on spotify, hit shuffle, you’ll hear a song about finding love followed by a song about losing it, wanting it, hating it.

We all have been through the ringer in love, love troubles are as common as spring allergies. Sneeze, they say bless you, break up they say I’m so sorry.

I’m a good looking guy, I’ve had plenty of girlfriends; theater girls, sporty girls, an emo chick who drew her eyeliner all the way to her hairline and pierced her own ears with a hot sewing needle.

I’ve had one boyfriend.

My one and only, I met him at a house show in Portland.

Ex-boyfriend, as of now.

Newly graduated from high school, I had no clue what my plans were for the next year. I could take a gap or enroll late, sure I’d be doomed to the nearest community college or trade school, I’d lead a mediocre life, marry an orange skinned blonde and have insufferably Kentuckian children. I’d had this delusion as a kid that I’d be famous when I was older, it lasted up until my sophomore year when despite my pretty face not a single casting audition I sent in received a callback. Sure, I was still in high school, my chances at success were higher if I auditioned as an adult with a real education in acting. It was a shame I wouldn’t be caught dead in drama school, surrounded by wannabes in desperate need of a shower, already so drenched in self-entitlement they miss the point of it.

The house was small, three rooms on the first floor, three on the second. The living room had been converted into a 10 by 10 concert hall, the only indicator of a stage being a thick red rope that separated the band from the mosh pit. As I made my way through the sweaty sea of stoned teenagers and drugstore James Hetfields, I asked myself again and again why I had decided to attend the show.

I hadn’t been since last summer when my ex, the emo chick, dragged me to some abandoned warehouse where the ‘Dickswatters’ abused instruments for three hours while a swarm of underaged kids took acid and mindlessly rammed into one another. I was no different than the others, in fact I got so shitfaced that when I stumbled upon said emo chick blowing a guy in the forest out back I said;

“Wow dude, your lay looks just like my girlfriend, that’s some insane shit,” In complete, honest awe and disbelief. It wasn’t until she pulled off and faced my way, still on her knees might I add, that I realized she was the real deal.

We broke up after that, but stayed friends. She was the only person in Louisville I didn’t find insufferable and her life was always interesting enough that I didn’t need to bother to have one of my own. She never saw it as an issue that I had no friends outside of her, if anything I think she liked it, all of my attention and focus was spent on her problems and her priorities. I was the guy best friend girl’s dream about, laid-back, non-judgmental, and completely uninterested in her sexually.

She was out of town the first few weeks of that summer, she had decided to celebrate her freedom from highschool with a trip to Italy. She took a few friends of hers, paying for all of their plane tickets and hotel rooms with her parent’s money. The first time I’d seen her parents' three-story estate I’d understood her completely. Rich and bored, pretty and neglected.

I think I missed her.

I recognized some of the punks at the show from her instagram posts and the last show I’d been to. They seemed nice enough and no doubt would have let me join them if I’d made an effort, however, I was intimidated by their crowns of hair and heavy jackets. I found a corner to press myself against in the kitchen. Unlike other parties the only way to get a drink at a show was to buy it, make friends, or bring it. I had forgotten this fact, expecting the usual array of intoxicants to be sitting out in the kitchen, perspiring in anticipation of my arrival. Painfully sober and visibly out of place, I kept stiff and pretended to scroll through my phone. Without any intoxicants in my system the music was intolerable, the kitchen was stuffy and hot, I doubted the house had a working ac, an accurate assumption given the trashy state of the kitchen I was standing in. This was where I met him, the beginning and the end of everything I ever believed about myself.

He owned the house.

“Hey, polo shirt,” His voice was just deep enough. I've always found high pitched voices grating, but bass tones were worse. They unsettle me, sound way too out of place. I’ve never seen a man I truly believe looked the part of a bass, so anytime I’ve met a man who’s Adam apple drops that low I’ve been petrified, effectively frozen in fear. I must have given him a stupid look, something torn between awe and fear because the man laughed and pointed at the fridge behind me. “I’m trying to get a drink,”

“Oh sorry,” I peeled away from my spot and stood awkwardly to the side as he opened the fridge and got a beer. He offered one to me as well, which I took, despite the fact I’d never really enjoyed the taste. Too bitter.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” He commented, not so much as making eye contact. It wasn’t an obvious thing, first he was looking at the fridge, then his drink, and now the crowd that filled his property. It made sense for him not to be looking at me, he had plenty of other things to look at. “I’m Caesar, the host.” He took a long gulp of his beer and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed at the action. I still hadn’t moved back to my spot against the fridge, I was suspended in time, lagging. “And you are?”

I barely registered the words. “What?”

“And you are?” He repeated, this time with heat. “I’m asking you your fucking name,”

I tensed at the harsh words, still reeling from being approached at all when I’d been completely prepared to spend the whole night standing in the back of the venue with my arms crossed and my head dully nodding to the music. I was going to take some pictures, bathe in the online validation and praise, you’re so hot, then fall asleep to a cult classic so I was only half-lying when I would later tell smart girls I’d seen it.

“John,” I finally replied.

His laugh had a roughness to it, years of smoking tearing up his throat. “You’re kidding, your parents couldn’t think of anything better?”

“My dad’s a christian, I’m named after John the Baptist,”

“I didn’t ask,”

I opened my mouth to retort, pausing when I noticed the slight tilt to his lips. Oh, he was fucking with me. I was so caught up in my own head I forgot this was simply how these kinda men spoke to each other.

“At least I make good pizza,”

He made a face, took a sip of his beer, his Adam's apple bobbed. “What?”

“Get it, uh,” I shrugged, I still hadn’t drunk any of my own beer. I probably would be throwing away a full bottle at the end of the night. “Little Caesar’s Pizza, and Papa John’s, Papa John’s is better,”

Caesar snorted into his drink, averting his eyes from the crowd to peer at me from the corner of his eye. “Really?”

He pronounced his words so clearly that despite the clamor of yelling and cymbal crashing echoing around us I could understand every word he said perfectly. Either he’d won the genetic lottery, or he spent many years in speech therapy. Given his sharp eyes, height, and broad shoulders, I concluded it was the former.

“C’mon,” He motioned toward the living room with his drink and under the kitchen strobe lights his silver rings shone. A snake, a skull, and a die on one hand. A singular dark band on the other. I followed after him into the other room, let him slide an arm around my waist whilst we listened to the music, and protested only once as he dragged me into the mosh pit.

We saw each other often after that, every day of the next two weeks in fact. Caesar was a hurricane, assertive, intelligent, and impossibly stubborn. He insisted on doing everything himself, cooking, cleaning, fixing, paying. Caesar didn’t owe anyone anything, even the government.

“College is a scam,” He told me one day while we were sitting in his driveway, Caesar’s hands black with grease. He’d just changed the oil in his car, I watched his back muscles flex, sweaty and shiny in the glaring sun. His shoulders were freckled with acne that gathered at his chin, obscured mostly by the scruff he’d allowed to grow. “There are plenty of jobs that don’t require a college education, and anything really important you can just teach yourself, everything you’ll learn at an institution will be capitalist propaganda,”

“How do you make money?” I prodded. I used to admire Caesar’s ability to support himself without answering to anybody, but looking back it was actually quite pathetic. Constantly his wifi or power would be out, turned off due to unpaid fees.

“Renting out the house, fixing shit,” Caesar leaned back and tilted his head toward the sun. “It’s really easy, no one knows how much fixing a car should cost, they pay whatever you tell em’ to,”

“Awesome.”

Pathetic.

One of the best things about going out with Caesar was his cooking. He didn’t believe in following recipes, but knew how to make a damn good dish. I left his house early late one Thursday with a tupperware of fried tortellini smothered in marinara. I took it down to my dad’s apartment, a studio situated unbearably close to the train tracks. He couldn’t hear me knock over the wheels slamming into splintered tracks, long overdue for repair, so I took the extra key from his mailbox and let myself in. I’d be worried about someone robbing my father if there was anything to steal.

I found him lying, passed out on his bed, a single mattress on the floor, surrounded by Dorito crumbs and empty bourbon bottles.

“Dad, I brought food,” I sat at the end of the mattress and tapped his foot. He peeled open a crusty eye, looking over the pregnant bump of his beer belly.

“Ah, John, good boy John, it’s so good to see you,”

“Eat,” I nudged his foot again, prompting the man to sit up. He took the tupperware and peeled it open. "Caesar made it,"

"It looks good, is Caesar Italian?"

"No dad," I picked up his empty bottles of bourbon and took them to the kitchen. Vines of rusted cracks branched out beneath my feet, overhead a broken strobe light flickered. The cheap bulb gave everything in the kitchen a yellowish appearance, as if it were molded.

“Itailians are such wonderful cooks,” I could hear the food in his mouth as he spoke. I opened his pantry and tossed the bottles into his trash can, they sounded like wind chimes as they clinked against each other on the way down. “Where is her family from?”

“His,” I corrected. I closed the pantry door behind me and opened his fridge, it was mostly empty besides a few unlabeled takeout boxes and lines of beer cans. “Do you have any water?” I asked.

“Take from the tap, Louisville water is real clean, don’t gotta pay for overpriced plastic,”

The water from his tap always tasted like iron, and occasionally had a faint brown tint to it. “I’m alright,” I replied, leaving his kitchen empty handed. I came back to him already half-way finished with his pasta, he had smudges of marinara across his bulging cheeks that I assume he’d felt around his lips and attempted to wipe away. I studied the ombre lines of spotted red as I continued talking. “I don’t know where Caesar’s family is from, I haven’t asked,”

“Should soon, he could be illegal, you don’t want to be caught up with someone like that,”

I don’t think I would have cared if he was. “He’s not,”

“We have really good genetics you and I, blue eyes, strong enamel, don’t impregnate someone with bad genes, your kids will miss out,”

“He’s a man dad,”

My father’s face pinched. “A real one? Not one of those weird pussy boys you bring around,”

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that one. I wasn’t even sure who he was talking about.

“Your generation is doomed, boys are girls, girls or boys, back in my day we just called em dykes and moved on with it,” He shoveled more of the food into his mouth, little pieces spewing as he preached. “Nothing wrong with being a bull dyke, nothing wrong with dating one either, your mom looked a little like a bull dyke when I met her, real angry,”

I just nodded dully. He took that as a sign to keep talking.

“This boy have a penis?”

“Yes dad, he has a penis,”

“Do you take it up the ass?”

Years of similarly uncomfortable sexual questions had made me immune to the embarrassment of answering them. “We haven’t had sex,”

“But you want to,”

I considered it. Caesar was tall and broad, he had a nice face, nice hands. I’d never slept with a man before, but as far as relationships go we already did everything else associated. We went out to dinner, saw movies, we held hands, shared a bed, held each other while we slept. “I think I do,”

“I think you should, trying new things is good for you, teaches you things about yourself,” My dad finished the last of his tortellini and set the tupperware on the floor beside his mattress. “I’ve participated in sodomy with a woman, it was okay, no better than the usual penetration,”

“I don’t think I needed to know that,”

He laughed, raspy and wet. “You’re a grown man now, you can take it, you’re what, 19?”

“18,”

“18, I remember being 18, best years of my life,” I sat down on the end of his mattress and listened as my father began to recall the tales of his youth. He spent his later teen years working in a factory, he told me, a factory that belonged to the company he later became a higher up in. He told me that was where he met my mother, she was a receptionist, impossibly pretty with a strong attitude. She took her coffee black and didn’t tolerate any disrespect. He told me to stay away from women like that, that if I’m going to marry a woman, marry a real one.

As I walked back out to my car I stopped at the headlights and lifted my chin up to stare into the full moon. The moon has always looked fake to me, too round and picturesque. The lines of its craters are so vivid that as a child I had once tried to climb a ladder and grab it. At 18, I was still just as much of a child, silently I lifted my arm up into the air and hovered my hand over where I could see the moon. As I closed my hand I imagined it crushing and turning to dust between my fingers.

JULY - AUGUST

Caesar and I started hanging out less, he got a new job at some warehouse that had him on from six in the morning to eight in the afternoon every weekday. I still worked at the same grocery store I’d started working at freshman year. I felt a little emasculated when Caesar would talk about his job, lifting wooden panels, crates, and gas tanks seemed a lot manlier than checking out housewives in an apron. I didn’t know what it was about being with another man that made me so determined to reassure myself I was still one as well, maybe I’d spent too many years picturing gay men as skinny twinks in booty shorts and wearing glittering lip gloss. One day while in the bathroom at work I practiced saying gay slang in the mirror. When I cocked my hip and limped my wrist with the work apron on I did look like a real fag. It was a strange concept to comprehend. Did I want his dick up my ass? I didn’t think so, I’d never been interested in a thing like that before. Plenty of other guys seemed to like it, girls even.

I decided to text my ex about it. She told me to meet her at Barnes and Noble that weekend, I agreed.

The ex’s name was Singe, she stood at an unimpressive five feet four inches that she overcompensated for with obnoxious platforms and tall updos. Her hair was 'singed' at the ends, as she liked to say, fading from black at the roots into a crimson red at her ends. I found her perusing the psychology section, carefully looking over each book with narrowed eyes and a manicured finger.

“We don’t take well to shoplifters,” I said behind her, holding my voice an octave lower. She rolled her eyes and slid the book she’d been holding back into its spot on the shelf before turning to face me.

“Hey John, took you long enough,”

“Traffic,”

“I’m sure,” She motioned with her hand for me to follow, an array of beaded crystal bracelets sliding down her wrist at the action. “So you think you’re gay?” She inquired, non-accusatory. In Singe’s circles everyone was gay, genderqueer, polyamorous, it might as well have been a prerequisite to being punk. I knew she’d be the last person to judge me, but I still hesitated to answer, as if a camera crew were going to walk out from behind the bookshelves and expose me for my perverted attraction.

“I still like women, or at least I think I do, I liked having sex with you,”

“Did you? You never seemed as into it as I was,” She replied.

“I was into it, just, I don’t know,” I tapped my fingers against my pantleg. “Wasn’t as into as you in the ‘frequency’’ sense,”

“You’re the first guy I’ve known who was put off by a girl who wants to bone 24/7,”

“There’s other more interesting things to do,”

“Like what?” She led me into Barnes n’ Nobles adjourning Starbucks, sitting us down at a table by the window so we’d get to enjoy the beautiful view of an outlet mall parking lot.

“Movies,”

“Movies are boring, why would I care about fictional lives when I could be living my own?”

I frowned. “There’s a lot more to them than that,”

“For you, I actually get out of house and live my life,”

She had a point.

“So you’re what, bisexual?” She followed up.

“I guess,”

She tapped her long nails against the tabletop, considering. “Who’s the guy?”

“Caesar,”

“The guy who owns the PotStop?”

I didn’t know it had a name. “Yeah, him,”

“He’s really standoffish,” Singe commented. “I don’t see him actually talk to people much. Do you know who he normally hangs out with? Everyone I know knows him but no one I know hangs out with him. Have you met any of his friends?”

“Not yet, why’s it matter?”

She gave me a look, a deadpan ‘are you serious’? “Number one red flag is no friends, either they’re a narcissist too obsessed with themselves to put time into other people or they’re such a dick no one wants to be around them,”

I opted to ignore the implications that had on myself, seeing as my own personal circle consisted only of Singe, my dad, and now Caesar.

“Have you ever done anal?” I asked her.

“A few times, why?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite but I enjoyed it,”

“Do you think I’d enjoy it?”

She laughed. “I can’t tell you whether or not you’d enjoy it John, you have to figure that out for yourself,”

“I don’t want to do it if I’m not going to like it,”

“So don’t do it,” Signe clapped her hands together. “Problem solved,”

I didn’t end up doing it, not anal at least. Caesar and I rarely got each other off and when we did it was strictly hand stuff. He thought doing anything else would make it weird, too gay. I should have realized early on that a guy who doesn’t want to be ‘too gay’ is not a guy you should be in a gay relationship with. For the first time in my life I worried that I was unattractive. Even if I wasn’t super interested in having sex with Caesar, it felt weird that he wasn’t at all interested in doing it with me. I wished at times I was more feminine looking, another first, I thought eventually he’d meet a girl he wanted to penetrate and either cheat or leave. I couldn’t stand the thought that Caesar would leave me.

We only dated three months.

I think back on those three months quite often and I find myself standing in front of two Caesars; the man I fell in love with and the man I dated. The man I fell in love with knew me and understood me in ways no one ever had before, and in ways no one ever would again. He saw through every lie I told, every fake smile and charade. This Caesar loved the parts of me only he saw and took no offense to the many idiosyncrasies I have that were exposed during our while short lived, intimate relationship. This Caesar is deep and intelligent, with good intuition and a drive to be better, do better, that I could respect.

This Caesar, funny enough, didn't exist, and would never exist. Even if one day he grew out of all of his immature habits and actually tried to make something of himself, maybe went to therapy and self-reflected on the way he treated me, the man I dated would never be the man I fell in love with.

The man I dated left me stoned and strung out downtown Louisville with no car and no wallet to hook up with a chick because I, just as I had dreaded, was not fulfilling his needs. His very real, manly needs to get off inside of something. I will admit, he was not completely to blame, he asked for my permission to swing and I, ever eager to please, had said 'batter up'! I had hardly expected him to find a girl that same night, nor did I expect him to abandon me for her on the dirty concrete of the city sidewalk. Too many drinks and a 10mg edible in, I could barely walk. Luckily enough, my tall frame and the bulge in my jeans saved me from being kidnapped or date raped. No, the worst outcome of the night was a thirty dollar bullet to my bank account. Initially the uber was only twenty, but I left a ten dollar tip after he'd been so kind as to even walk my crossfaded ass up to my apartment door.

I fell asleep as soon as I hit my bed, the cheap mattress I’d thrifted had never felt firmer, my decade old sheets softer. I almost didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, if the source of my tribulations hadn’t let himself inside I would’ve stayed buried in those soft sheets all day.

“Rise and shine beautiful, I brought a hangover cure,” Caesar placed a strange drink concoction on my kitchen island, along with a tupperware of breakfast food.

“You make that or her?” I asked him, my voice was raspy from drunk singing and it added an extra edge to the sharp tone of my inquiry.

“I did,” He opened the tupperware and grabbed a fork from my cabinets. “I didn’t spend the night at her place, just hit it and went home, I hope you like meat in your scrambled eggs,”

“Meat?”

“Chicken,”

“Normally people use pork,”

“I’m not a normal person,” Caesar came around to the side of my bed and nudged my shoulder with the tupperware. “Eat,”

I felt sick to my bones. It’s a much different feeling than feeling sick to your stomach, you feel it through your whole body. It’s a cold feeling, on the edge of nausea, it makes you tense and void. Not sad, not angry, not jealous, sick.

I sat up and took the food from Caesar, it smelled delicious. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach it.

“How was it?” I prodded. He shrugged.

“Okay, sex is sex,”

Sex is sex.

The eggs looked like clay, mushy, impenetrable. I grit my teeth.

Sex is sex.

“I’m not hungry,” I gave the tupperware back to Caesar, who leveled me with an odd look. “Too hungover?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you for the thought,”

“Of course,”

I thought about that for days. Sex is sex. I’d had sex very few times in my life, strangely enough. You’d think, wow John you’ve dated so many girls, and you’re so hot, you’ve probably done it a million times, but I haven’t. The very few times I did have sex it was awkward and weird, I hardly enjoyed it. Hand stuff with Caesar was good, really good, I genuinely enjoyed it and it made me feel connected to him. It was like him and I were in on this secret, we knew each other's bodies in ways others didn't.

Sex is sex. I began to question if he saw our hand stuff the same way. I began to question if he saw any of our relationship the same way. Was I so delusional as to believe this man and I had this insane, unfathomable bond, unlike anything I've ever felt before, when in reality I was nothing more than an experiment? Not even that, if I was an experiment I'd know, he'd be more curious, want to try more things, no Caesar enjoyed my company, he liked my personality.

He liked me.

I'll never know if he loved me. I loved him, I know that much. I was obsessed with him, the way he wore his hair, the rings on his fingers, the shark tooth necklace that hung over face when we roughhoused and the forgotten skateboard in his garage. I loved his tenacity and when he'd act stubborn, scrunching his face to convey his silent protest. I loved his sharp eyes and soft cheeks, I loved his worn out Doc Martens and his wall of stolen street signs. I loved Caesar. I loved him so much that when he looked at me, really looked at me, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I was sure during the time we were together that he was my endgame. That we had some connection no one else could understand, that my allowance of his misdeeds was a test of my love for him. I realize now that kind of thinking is idiotic. Real life isn’t a romcom, there is no fate, no destiny. Caesar and I weren’t meant to be, we weren’t soulmates, we were two losers without friends who just happened to be at the same place at the same time.

I’ve never been a good sleeper. It doesn’t help that my dad likes to stay up most nights watching conspiracy theory documentaries and listening to ‘underground’ podcasts. I could hear them from my room, the apartment walls thin enough that even the heavy breathing of dad’s neckbearded idols reached my ears as I searched desperately for sleep.

I started calling Caesar anytime I couldn’t sleep, and soon enough every night ended with the two of us deep in conversation over the glitchy speakers of our androids.

“Would you step on a bird to put it out of its misery?” Caesar asked me one night during an exceedingly more abstruse game of 21 questions.

“No,” I replied. “I couldn’t,”

“I could,”

“I’m not surprised,”

He laughed. “The bird is better off dead than suffering,”

“Did you ask me this just to sound edgy,”

“No no,” Caesar sounded earnest. “I wanted to know your thoughts, why wouldn’t you?”

“I’d feel bad,”

“You should feel worse about letting it suffer, if you really felt bad you’d kill it,”

I shifted uncomfortably in my bed. It wasn’t my fault that the bird was suffering, but it would be my fault the bird was dead if I killed it. There was no certainty that the bird would suffer forever unless I killed it. Why was the first option to step on it rather than to rescue it? In all honesty, the apartment might benefit from having something bright and energetic like a bird. I thought to myself that if the next morning I found a bird with a broken wing or legs that couldn’t care for itself, I wouldn’t step on it, I’d take care of it.

“If you had a pet bird what would you name it Caesar?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never wanted a pet bird,”

“But if you did,”

“Bladee,”

“Like the artist?”

“Yes,”

Naturally. “You’re obnoxious,”

“I’d be boring if I wasn’t,” I rotated onto my side so my hand rested in the palm of my hand and I faced the side of my phone. “Would you rather I named it something like Tweety?”

“No,” I said through a yawn. “But maybe something like Carl,”

“Carl?”

“Or Steve, Miles-”

“John,”

“Yes?”

“A name like John,” Caesar reiterated. “What’s with you and lameass names?”

I didn’t respond to that comment, it was true, I had a lame name. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t pick it.

“Have you ever considered renaming yourself?” Caesar continued to dig. “Like Singe did,”

“I’m not alternative like Singe is,” I flipped back onto my back. “I don’t see the point, John fits me,”

Caesar grunted in agreement, then began on a tangent about the latest homicide he’d heard about in the news. He echoed the same sentiments I’d heard from other proud anti-fascists our age, not spouting a drop of his own thought out opinion. The line of reasoning he followed wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t stupid, just vague and overused, empty showy protest against a system he didn’t understand but pretended to know better than. I suppose his name fits him as well, if taken ironically. He was the personification of misquoted Caesar, a buzzword finding itself quite often in the wrong place; a politician's shitty speech, a school wall, a teenagers social media bio.

SEPTEMBER

I’ve recently started college, my major is still undecided but for my electives I’m taking Introduction to Film Studies and Spanish.

I enjoy Film Studies, it's easy. You don't have to learn how to feel, just the words to describe it.

The scene before you is dark, a single light flickers, the pole it stands upon is rusted. Beneath the actors feet the ground is moist from the morning's rain and one man awkwardly regards his partner's back pressed against the alley's brick wall with hesitation.

He can feel the ghost of wet brick on his back.

In class he'd describe these details as ominous, foreboding, and dreadful.

The man against the wall lifts his head and laughs, his voice is smoother than is normal; he is drunk.

"I don't like when you drink," Now that the man has spoken it becomes aware to the viewer that he's not a man, no not nearly, he's just a boy.

An eighteen year old boy.

"You're seriously no fun," Caesar mocks. "Weren't you just drinking with me? Fucking hypocrite,"

I looked anywhere but at him. The night was alive, the beating blood of Louisville's punk scene pumping around us, but never touching. "I had one shot, you've had six,"

He didn't digest my comment well, looking as though he might puke up five months worth of built up grievances onto my adidas. "So judgy," He settled on.

"I'm calling us an uber,"

"You're not,"

I didn't reply.

"You know what your problem is?" He lifted his head up, hair askew. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, you're so caught up in your own head you've convinced yourself that you're the only person that matters,"

I struggled to push my phone up and out of the pocket of my skinny jeans. I couldn't be sure if my hands were shaking, not when the light barely reached them.

"Do you even feel anything?"

"Of course I feel things," I pressed hard against the outline of my phone. The corner was caught on my pocket seam.

"You never show it," Caesar shook his head, hair beads rattling against one another. They were new, silver to match his rings.

A skull.

A snake.

A die.

All rusted on the inside.

I finally got my phone out of my pocket and it was heavy. A lead weight in my hand. Beneath the street light shone a glare on the screen that made it difficult to find my uber app.

"Do you love me John?"

I ignored him. Requested two stops.

"Do you love anyone?"

"Would you stop."

Caesar laughed. "Predictable,"

I grit my teeth. "What, what's predictable?"

"You," He pushed away from the wall so that he towered over me. "You're just like every other entitled, emotionally constipated, middle class white boy, it upsets you that I actually want us to feel something,"

"Want us," I echoed.

"Us, I want to feel something together, collectively, connected," He took my free hand, interlocking our fingers. "Don't you want that too?"

"Our uber will be here any minute now," I pulled my hand away from his and stepped back. His dark eyes remained trained on mine, locked into my irises.

"I can see why everyone leaves you, John," I stifled. "You never gave them a place to stay to begin with,"

In a movie scene you can see the ground is wet but you can't feel that the air is humid. You can infer from the blue hues and the main character's shivers that it was cold, but you'll not always be right. There was no shiver, just a violent twitch, as though someone hooked up spark plugs around my big toes. Caesar's pretentiousness was painful, and his snobby, accusatory attitude extremely off-putting. I hated dramatic assholes who pretend they can see right through you, that they understand the world in ways you're incapable.

I put him in the uber when it came and ordered a separate one for myself, let the driver know the second stop was unneeded, but could keep whatever pay they gave him for it.

My ride took me to my dad's, where I didn't bother to peel off my wet shoes, instead just stumbled into his bedroom and sat on the edge of that stained, crusted, rickety old mattress. I crumpled like a paper wad, head in my hands and joints stiff. I stayed there until the sun came up and my father's alarm rang.

He slid his glasses onto his face with sweaty, wrinkled hands, almost dropping them as they journeyed from the bedside table to his bed.

"John," He coughed out. "What are you doing here,"

"I'm breaking up with Caesar,"

"Who?"

"Caesar," I repeated. "The real boy,"

"Ah," My father slapped his lips together, kissing away his morning mouth gunk. "Never quite liked the kid anyways, give it just a few years and they'll have him locked up for one thing or another."

"Yeah," I kept my head in my hands, embarrassed that my dad might see the puddles that had begun to form in my palms if I dropped them. "He wasn't really my type anyways."

#short story #angst #queer #mlm #punk #writing

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lyssismagical · 4 years

Text

coffee, rainbow pins, and middle school gossip

Parkner Week Day Seven: “13-year-olds are the meanest people in the world” / middle school / jealousy

Being a teacher hadn’t really been Peter’s plan for his career until he got to his senior year and he got his school-mandatory volunteer hours at the elementary public school and he loved how teaching made him feel.

He’s always loved kids. When he was twelve, he started babysitting for the other tenants in the building for much cheaper than any other babysitter, but enough to get the good pizza every couple weeks.

Later, he spent his summers as a Camp Counselor to make some money and to have something to do all summer, out of May’s hair and giving May a chance to save up money without having his mouth to feed.

He didn’t really think much about it until MJ asked him to start reading to children at the library with her. Apparently, she thinks she doesn’t have a soothing enough voice to read for hours on end, but he reads a lot out loud at school and during Academic Decathlon, and she says his voice is nice and he likes kids enough to hang out with them all day.

And now, as a twenty-four-year-old graduate, he’s got a job as a middle school substitute teacher. He wants to one day be a permanent teacher for a younger grade, but he’s happy being a teacher.

Until he finds out how cruel middle schoolers are.

He gets it, the Science teacher at the school is pretty good looking.

Mister Keener is a young, single guy who’s genuinely smart and passionate. He’s a few years older than Peter, and he’s objectively handsome, but Peter isn’t interested. (He’s totally interested, he can barely keep his eyes off the science teacher whenever he sees him in the Teacher’s Lounge, but that’s not anybody’s business.)

His students seem to have one goal in life. To get Peter and Mister Keener together.

“Have your kids been saying anything?” Peter asks. He watches Harley as he laughs, brewing a pot of coffee. “I was subbing for the phys-ed class and they wouldn’t stop.”

“Yeah, I hear about Mister Parker more than anything these days.”

Harley grabs two mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine and pours them both a coffee, adding the number of creams and sugar to Peter’s that he likes which makes Peter feel incredibly warm and giddy, and then he sits down across from Peter, passing him his coffee.

“I know! Angela, you know her, I think she’s in your science class period two, she literally talked you up to me for the entire hour yesterday. I tried to tell her that it wasn’t appropriate to talk about it with me, but she wouldn’t listen.”

The science teacher laughs again, bright and warm. “Yeah, she went on and on about you. Apparently, you’re really smart when it comes to English.”

“That’s thanks to my friend, MJ, she was really good at English and reading, and she kinda got me into a lot of it. We still have biweekly book clubs.”

“I’m not super into reading, but my little sister is. I-”

The door to the Teacher’s Lounge is pushed open, with a few knocks. It’s not a teacher who stands there though.

“Harry!” Peter exclaims, shooting out of his chair. He races over to throw himself into Harry’s awaiting arms with a squeal. “I thought you weren’t coming to visit for another couple weeks!”

“I’ve got a long weekend off and figured I couldn’t wait to come see you,” Harry explains quickly, arms tight around Peter’s waist.

There’s an awkward cough from behind them that has Peter spinning around, pulling Harry with him back to his table.

“Harry, this is Harley Keener, the science teacher here. Harley, this is an old friend of mine, Harry Osborn. He’s getting his masters abroad so he can’t visit very often.”

The teacher stretches out a hand to shake Harry’s, offering a polite smile with a murmured nice to meet you before he’s draining the rest of his coffee and standing.

“I should be getting back to class early to set up for the lab. I’ll see you later,” Harley says, offering one last smile before he’s out of the teacher’s lounge.

As soon as he’s gone, Harry leans in closer. “Is he the guy you’ve been crushing on these past couple months?”

“He’s the guy who our students have been harassing me about for the last couple months,” Peter corrects before he admits, “Yeah, I’ve totally been crushing on him. He’s so nice and smart and hot. Can you blame me?”

“You should go for it.”

Peter rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table and gesturing for Harry to sit down with him. “I don’t even know if he’s into guys, or if he has a rule against dating coworkers, or if he’s taken.”

“One, I can’t believe you didn’t notice the rainbow pin on his bag. Two, this isn’t going to be your job much longer. You’re going to get that teaching position at the elementary school. And three, he wouldn’t be staring at you like that if he was taken.”

“Have you met me, Osborn? I don’t have the guts to ask him out.”

Harry rolls his eyes right back. “Have it your way and lose your chances with the greatest looking guy in all of Manhattan, second only to you.”

“Shut up,” Peter says with no heat to his words. “We’ll see.”

* Harley’s acting weird the next couple days.

He doesn’t say as much, and he’s downright pouty for most of their lunches together, frowning down at his food whenever Peter rambles about anything.

Harry starts picking him up from the school, so they no longer have that half hour window to chat while Peter waits for the bus. And Peter catches Harley practically glaring when Peter slides into Harry’s convertible.

After a week of these strange interactions, Peter finally caves and pulls one of his students aside after class.

“I know I really shouldn’t be asking you, but has Mister Keener said anything about me lately.”

Katie grins mischievously, beckoning a few of her friends over. “Why? You want him to be talking about you?”

Liam and Emily giggle, leaning into each other behind Katie.

“No!” Peter gasps, shaking his head quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“He was acting pretty weird last week,” Aryssa pipes up shyly from where she’s still sitting at her desk. “Quiet, graded our test pretty harshly. He gave a couple people detentions when they wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Really? And he didn’t say why he was acting weird?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “No, why would he tell his students why he was acting weird? Most of the time, teachers don’t talk this candidly with their students.”

“Well, I’m not going to be teaching here much longer hopefully. And I’m a substitute.” It doesn’t entirely justify it, but the students seem more excited than annoyed by him talking about his private life. It’s what they’ve been asking him to do for months anyway.

The bell rings, making Peter jump. “Okay, dismissed, get to class. Don’t tell him I asked you about him.”

Katie and Emily snicker, looping their arms together before racing out the door.

Peter knows he won’t be able to trust them.

It still surprises him when Harley stops him in the hallway after the school’s cleared out at the end of the day.

“So, I heard some interesting gossip,” Harley starts.

“Did you?”

Harley laughs, bag swaying at his side. Peter takes note of the rainbow pin. “Katie, Liam, and Emily told me you were asking about me. Asked them if I’d been talking about you.”

“Thirteen-year-olds are the meanest people in the world, I swear… It’s just- you’ve been acting weird lately. Like I did something wrong. I was concerned.”

Harley sighs and he sinks to the floor, leaning against the lockers. Peter hesitates before sliding to the ground beside him, shoulders knocking.

“Can I be honest?” Harley asks, frowning down at his hands. “I really like you, but I get it, you’re taken, I’m not going to be upset about that, I just got a little bit jealous of him.”

“Of who? I’m not-” Peter blows out a breath. “Harry.”

Harley’s eyes go wide, sad. “I’m not mad at you and I really do want to stay friends, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better too-”

“I’m not with Harry!” His voice comes out shaky and too loud. “I mean, we did date once, like forever ago, back in high school, but we decided we were better off as friends, and that’s all we are now. I liked you, but I didn’t think you were into me, especially after last week.”

Harley lets out a laugh verging on hysterical. “I’m so sorry. I saw you with Harry, and I just jumped to conclusions. But if you haven’t been totally turned away by my jealousy, I’d love to take you out for coffee?”

“I’d love that, yeah. Harry’s picking me up if you wanna take up the offer of getting to know my best friend a little better? We could get coffee the three of us while he’s still in town, and then we could get dinner, just the two of us, on the weekend?”

“Sounds like a fantastic plan.”

Taglist:@littlemissagrafina @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner week 2020 #parkner #parkner fic #harley keener #peter parker #harry osborn #parksborn #but like not really #i want y'all to know this was originally a flash crossover

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acciostorian · 4 years

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mae reads the kane chronicles: the serpent’s shadow the red pyramid

(aka we see mae go through many emotions in the space of 2-3 days)

holy fuck ive only got to the contents and the chapters have those classic pjo click bait titles i’m so happy rn

WAIT IM SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT- the serpent’s shadow is the THIRD BOOK. uh-oh i almost fucked this whole series over lemme change the book real quick....

i’m literally on the first page and i’ve already been sent on a mission, so the kanes are THOSE bitches

SADIE AND KANE ARE BRITISH???? omg yes please

THEYRE IN LONDON MY HOME

never fucking mind they’re from LA

oh wait sadie was raised as a british kid. that’s very sexy of her.

carter be like, “you wouldn’t be interested in my dad’s lectures.” SHUT UP CARTER I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT EGYPTIAN PUNISHMENT

so sadie was raised in east london???? THATS SO SEXC BECAUSE ME TOO BOO

sadie has a british accent. a b r i t i s h a c c e n t.

FIT

“six years in london and she thinks she’s james bond” LMAO

sadie’s so emo/alt i love it. does rick always write his characters like this??

sadie pronounces it “mum” and carter says “mom”

it’s so refreshing to read mum ngl

sadie said bloke omg

i’m feeling carter’s pain. little sisters are shits and honestly sadie has the same vibes as my little sister and me and carter are quite similar. i hate this.

oh wow they really said sadie was too white for their family...

sadie did not HESITATE to be like, “yeah dad we’ll lock that guy in his office. mint.”

sadie telling the story is an experience

sadie said “maths” and “mates” in the same sentence. this is some refreshing shit.

sadie’s friends saying carter is hot is fucking hilarious. like it’s a classic piss-off to thirst over your mate’s sibling

THEYRE GETTING DEPORTED????

LMAO AMOS WAS LIKE, “yeah we don’t talk about manhattan. they’ve got their own problems. *cough percy jackson cough*”

i read thoth the god of knowledge as thot the god of knowledge

carter is right, amos has undeniable swag

philip of macedonia. the crocodile. cool.

i love how the greeks and romans be like “if we don’t honour the gods we’ll get SLAUGHTERED” and the egyptians are like “you know what? fuck the gods me and my homies hate the gods”

sadie kane would stab you in a back alley and dance to mcr as you bled to death and carter kane would take you to a museum, tell you everything about everything and then commit a terrorist attack

amos really went “don’t touch anything, the cats in charge and peace out bitches” and then fucking jumped off the balcony of his five storey mansion

sadie made that door go BANG

that fucking clay statue came to life and not one of them screamed. I WOULD SHIT MYSELF.

i’m giggling, all the greek/roman gods have really long/scary/cool sounding names like tartarus and chaos and nyx but the evilest guy in egyptian myth is called set. S E T.

please make muffin some crazy badass animal like crookshanks or swiftwind.

WHO DARES THROW HANDS WITH PHILIP?????

THE SHABTI FUCKING STOLE AN ARTEFACT THATS AMAZING

i love carter sm, even tho he’s scared as fuck he still picked up that ancient sword and was like “ig i’ll bash some heads in whilst sadie holds the cat”

MUFFIN JUST TURNED INTO SOME WARRIOR CAT LADY AND SHE INSTANTLY GAVE ME CATRA VIBES

every cat in new york is helping them

bast jacked that car like it was nobody’s business

i used to think the greek gods were stupid for having so many things to control but honestly the egyptians are taking the piss, do you really need a whole scorpion goddess?

the kane siblings are written so well. like i actually BELIEVE they’re siblings

i think carters gonna become a comfort character now... like i relate on another level. little siblings always take the spot light and you have to act level headed and calm because the younger ones start shit and you’re like “i gotta be the good one because my family would fall to shit if i didn’t behave.” so big kudos to carter, i love you

so carter’s a king huh? I DIDNT NEED YOU TO TELL ME THAT RICK I ALREADY KNEW HE WAS

zia was like “king tut?? ugh he was such a boy, there were waaaaay cooler tombs out there x x”

i read “nectanebo II” as “nintendo II” and i was like ??? when was that a thing

i drinking camomile tea whilst reading this and i feel so peaceful uwu

sadie really can do magic like THAT like bitch be like “i just copied what zia did and yeah it worked lol”

okay so i’m sorta feeling bad about sadies life rn but i’m still very pro carter

set’s laugh makes me uncomfortable. because when most villains laugh it’s usually described like “their laugh was like a knife, cold and sharp. i hates it.” but when sadie discribed set’s laugh she was like “it was warm and friendly. beautiful.” LIKE AAAA THATS A RED LIGHT

set: the god of theatre because gods dam is he a good actor

sadie saw some hot emo guy and was like “omg marry me”

iskandar be like “lmao imma speak in alexandria greek all the time but this girl bouta die? i switch to perfect english for dramatic effect”

woooOooaaaah SLOW DOWN THERE BUDDY, tongue tattoos???

zia: you guys will probably suck at this at first but oh well we all can’t be great

sadie: *makes fire first time* wooosh

sadie and kane: *doing cool shit* me and my tea: sluuuurrrp

bast is so sassy i love it

me when it’s a sadie chapter: okay ig :/

me when it’s a carter chapter: HOLY SHIT CARTER HEY OMG YOURE DOING CRAZY STUFF???? COOL. i love you.

bast: so yeah, you’d be stupid to teleport to paris, this is desjardin’s home territory

sadie and kane, lying in the streets of paris: oh cool cool

sadie: like i might die rn but i don’t care, as long as it doesn’t get filmed and put in youtube, that would be embarrassing

like ???? sis get your priorities together smh

sadie: *sees hot emo guy again in her spirit adventure, he hints that’s he’s dead or something*

also sadie: so will i see you again?

“no, an egyptian drink. you’ve heard of hot chocolate? this is rather like hot vanilla.” dam now i want some.

carter is an amazing older brother. he’s written perfectly and he’s a great character to relate to for me. even though sadie can make his blood boil, he dropped everything to calm her down when she was panicking about not being able to change back from a bird. i too have to do that for my little sister - sadie and ava are ironically the same age - so i find that very comforting that there is someone like me to relate to!

‘a businessman with a rolling suitcase was waiting by the doors. his eyes widened when he saw me. i must’ve looked pretty strange — a tall black kid in dirty, ragged egyptian clothes, with a weird box tucked under one arm and a bird of prey perched on the other.

‘“how’s it going?” i said. “i’ll take the stairs.” he hurried off.’ LMAO THIS IS WHY CARTER BABY I LOVE YOU

highkey pissed that carters like “i’m always edgy around the police. once i turned eleven they started giving me the Look. when it doesn’t happen it’s always a pleasant surprise.” LIKE FUCK NO HE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO WALK AROUND UNHASSLED WHATS WRONG WITH HIM

lmao bast be like “imma jump off this national monument. see ya at the airport in my finest clothes and jewellery x”

FOOD UPDATE: i’m eating a chocolate covered waffles and having some tea and i feel so happy rn sorry i know you don’t care but like aaaaaaa

bast called carter her little tomcat and my heart exploded

bast really likes convertibles huh

thoth: i hate rereading my old writing, my present self would never write like this now!! SOMEONE GET ME A RED PEN

are they... are they going to dig up elvis presley?

might put some elvis in for this part, y’know, to set the mood?

i cant stop reading ‘thoth’ as thot even though i know how to pronounce it

the captain with a axe for a head: my name is bloodstained battle axe 😸

yuh bast did some shit ...

imma stop now because spoilers, GO READ THE KANE CHRONICLES THEY ARE THE MOST UNDERRATED RIORDANVERSE BOOKS X X

#the kane chronicles #tkc #carter kane #sadie kane #tkc bast #mae waffles #rick riordan #riordanverse #did someone say queued?

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27-umbrellas · 5 years

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You know what? fuck it, if being emo is in again what the fuck I guess I have to pull out my fishnet leggings but fuck I’ve been converted Christ on a cracker I feel thirteen again I’m going to wear a god damn chocker at this point w h y did Good Omens and The Umbrella Academy have to be this good us whores are stanning Gerard Way and David Tennant again seriously i had only just stopped being a mopey bitch but now I’m back on my bullshit can I hear a wahoo

#the umbrella academy #good omens #idk #ua #tua #this is my perpetual mood

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kaminarisimp9000 · 4 years

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movie night

A/N: bruh the movie night trope is my f a v o r i t e and it’s 100% because ahem netflix and chill has caught me off guard one too many times. n e ways i barely know how to use this website nd this is the first post on the Blog and i totally did not write this because this concept is living rent free in my mind so i hope you enjoy??

pairing: bakugou x female!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: strong language

summary: You get really cold during the Weekly Class 1-A Movie Night™ due to your quirk and it’s up to Bakugou to warm you up

You rushed down to the common room, arms full of snacks, taking care so as not to spill anything. A smile bloomed across your face as you took in the scene before you. The common room was a mess of blankets, sleeping bags, couches and the like, as the students of Class 1-A worked together to set up today’s movie night. These movie nights had been born out of a collective need to relieve stress, and by now, had sort of become a weekly thing that you looked forward to. Your smile only grew wider as you realized that today, even Big Bad Bakugou had shut his mouth for once, opting to actually cooperate with his fellow students.

Bakugou.

You couldn’t ignore the subtle heat that rose to your cheeks as your thoughts lingered on your best friend for just a beat longer than necessary, when you were abruptly shaken out of your second of stupor.

“Sweet! Y/N’s got the snacks!” Kaminari yelled, as he plopped down on one of the couches, ready to begin this week’s installment of Class 1-A’s Movie Nights™.

“Hell yeah I do. You’d better help me set this up, though, unless you’re not getting any!” You retorted.

Kaminari waved you off with an alright, alright and headed towards the kitchen to find some bowls, while Tsuyu and Midoriya helped you set everything down. A few moments later, you were all but surrounded by an array of colorful bowls filled with all sorts of movie-appropriate treats.

Satisfied with your hard work, you scanned the common room for any available seats, letting out a chuckle as you realized that the only empty one was that which was next to your probably half-pomeranian half-human friend.

(There was actually another space empty, but it was next to Mineta, so we’re not going to talk about that for obvious reasons.)

“Scoot over, Katsuki, I’m gonna sit here”

“Fuck off, Y/N,” Bakugou replied, moving to the side nevertheless.

“You wish,” you mused, gently sitting down next to him, “So, what’re we watching today?”

“As if I care.”

“Ugh, would you stop being so emo for once and answer the question?”

“Fuck, I dunno, it’s some shit about a cooking rat, or something.”

“Was it that hard to say Ratatouille? I swear to god, Katsuki, you’re so fucking difficult sometimes.”

“I’d wager the poor boy just doesn’t know how to pronounce Ratatouille, Y/N ☆,” Aoyama interrupted from across the room.

You let out a laugh, “You’re probably right, Aoyama. The boy’s ~uncultured~.”

Your relationship with Bakugou was comfortable to say the least. Sure, you did have a tiny crush on him, but above that, he was one of your best friends at UA. It’s anyone’s best guess as to how that even happened in the first place, with the boy’s hostility shining through in his ever-present frown, but here you are. Perhaps it’s because you were one of the only ones in the class who could actually put up with his less-than-desirable behavior, or because of the numerous times you practically begged him to spar with you (to which he gave in after a full month of persistence). You didn’t really have much of a crush on him in the beginning, but as time passed, and as the two of you grew closer, you felt your heart beat that much louder for him with every frown he sent your way.

Sometimes, when you looked at him, you even felt breathless.

But now was not one of those times. Hell, you were too distracted by the movie to give too much thought to the fact that you wanted Katsuki Bakugou to pin you against the wall of your dorm and kiss the living daylights out of you. Yes, you liked Bakugou, but you loved Ratatouille.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your Ratatouille-induced bliss was fairly short-lived, though, for midway through the movie, you began to feel a bit chilly. Moving your arms to hug your sides, you tried to ignore it, but you knew where this was headed. Your quirk, Body Heat, converts your temperature into pure energy, which does make you quite powerful in the training arena, but also requires a great deal of cooldown time for your body to reset to its natural state. This usually happens quite painlessly, but sometimes, especially when you’ve overused your quirk, your temperature severely drops, as your body attempts to regenerate what it has lost.

In other words, if you didn’t find a source of heat soon, you would be shivering as if there were no tomorrow.

As your body began to shake, you searched the room for Todoroki, who usually helped you when you were like this, using his left side to warm you up until you were a functioning human again. You found him rather quickly, only to see that his eyes were closed, chest gently rising and falling through a peaceful slumber.

Of course he’s fucking asleep, you thought to yourself, shivers intensifying, I’m so stupid! It would have taken me literally two seconds to grab a few blankets and now I can barely fucking move I’m shivering so bad.

Reluctantly, you resigned yourself to this fate, deciding that you would just let your body do what it needed to do to regain your natural energy, and bear through the cold, when you felt a sudden shift to your side.

Through your peripheral vision, you saw that Bakugou had gotten up and had started walking away.

Probably cause I’m shaking so violently, you thought, rolling your eyes as much as you could, Can’t blame him, though, even I’d be annoyed.

He returned quickly, though, throwing a plush blanket over your curled-up form.

“Stop fucking shivering,” he whispered angrily.

“S-hut t-t-the fuck up you b-bitch, y-you know it's b-because of my quirk” You replied, with great difficulty.

“Where’s that half-n-half bastard? Isn’t he the one who gets rid of this shit for you.”

“He's s-sleeping r-right n-ow—stop! d-don't wake him up h-he's probably t-t-t-ired.”

“Jesus Christ you can’t even fucking talk, can you,” Bakugou deadpanned.

You shook your head as vigorously as you could, the blanket doing little in the way of warming you up.

“It’s-it’s fine, ‘T-Tsuki, this’ll b-be o-o-over soon.”

“Yeah, but it’s damn annoying.”

“Then d-do something ab-b-bout it! I d-d-don’t know wh-what to t-t-tell you, I literally c-can’t m-move!” you snapped.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Bakugou maneuvered himself until he was under the blanket that currently surrounded your shivering body, pulling you into his lap so that you were facing him, your cheeks growing hot in response to your compromising position.

“K-Katsuki—”

“Shut your mouth.”

You obliged, as he brought his hands up to your face, palms glowing orange as he carefully activated his quirk just enough to warm them up, but not enough to create an explosion. He figured that your inability to talk was currently the most annoying thing about you, so he decided to stop the incessant chattering of your teeth first.

Meanwhile, you were, for lack of better wording, dying on the inside. You knew Bakugou was hot, but shit, you’ve never seen him like this before! Were his eyes always that fucking beautiful when he concentrated? Was his skin always this smooth? Did his nose always look that kissable?

As you began to regain feeling in your face, you really hoped that Bakugo couldn’t sense your heartbeat running at a million miles per hour, as his hands left your cheeks to run down your arms.

“Thank you for this, Katsuki, you really didn’t have to,” you sigh, basking in your newfound warmth, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

“Tch,” Bakugo grunted, as his hands softly grasped yours, lingering until their natural warmth returned.

You stretched your arms out, enveloping your friend in a tight hug, suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness wash over your body.

“Yeah~~ I can finally use my hands again~~ What would I do without you, Kacchan?” you giggled, as his cheeks grew red in response to the cutesy nickname.

His hands moved down to grip your thighs as he warmed your legs up, while you settled your head into the crook of his neck, cuddling into his warmth as you finally let sleep consume you.

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On the other side of the room, Kaminari’s eyes were glued to the television screen, thinking about how Remy was able to control Linguini’s cooking so accurately with a few simple tugs to the hair.

I mean, maybe that’s just his quirk, but like—does this mean that he has a hair pulling kink? Imagine your girlfriend having to marionette you in the bedroom. Would that be embarrassing? Would any of the girls be down to try it? he wondered.

He reached into his lap to retrieve a piece of popcorn, sulking when his hand hit the bottom of the empty bowl. Sighing, he tore his eyes away from the screen, reaching for a refill, only to freeze at the sight in front of him.

“Yooooo, what goes on” Kaminari whisper-screamed, elbowing Mina in the side, gesturing towards you and Bakugou.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Mina replied, mouth agape, “Are you kidding?! They’re so cute!!”

“Damn. Would have never thought. Like?! I knew they were friends but I didn’t think Kacchan could pull a girlfriend!”

“Are they actually dating though?! I’ve never heard Y/N talk about him like that even once! When did this happen?”

“I don’t fucking know and I don’t fucking care. I swear to god I’m never gonna let him hear the end of it.”

“Can y’all pipe down? I’m trying to watch the movie here,” Jirou whispered, annoyance written all over her face.

“No I cannot pipe down Jirou, just look over there and tell me you aren’t shook,” Kaminari fired back.

“Holy fuck.”

“Right!!!”

Eventually, Kaminari’s whispering spread around to the entire class, as they, one by one, turned to take in the events that had unfolded right underneath their noses. Even Todoroki had awoken from his sleep to gawk at the both of you.

“Awww, they’re so adorable,” Uraraka squealed.

“They really are quite cute,” Momo remarked.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have seen this coming. I had no idea the two of them had feelings for each other,” Midoriya wondered.

With every passing line from his classmates, Bakugo could feel himself getting angrier and angrier.

What the fuck do these damn extras think they’re doing? Shut the fuck up and watch the movie!! Bakugou thought, blood boiling.

“Y’know, Bakugou, I didn’t think you of all people would know how to treat a woman right,” Tsuyu chimed in.

That’s it, Bakugou got up violently, This fucking ends here.

Being careful not to drop you, Bakugou shifted you onto one arm, as he picked up the blanket that was once covering you both with the other. He headed out into the hallway, pressing the button to call the elevator, and brought you up to the fourth floor.

He pulled out his keycard as he reached the end of the hallway, stopping in front of the door to his room for a moment as he unlocked it. Pushing the door open, Bakugou made his way over to his bed, and set you down gently.

Or, at least he tried to.

As he lowered your unconscious body to his soft, black sheets, you let out a quiet groan, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, making it clear that whatever happened, you weren’t going to let go.

Fucking great.

He shook you, trying to wake you up, but to no avail. The most he could get out of you was a soft Kacchan, let me sleep, as you snuggled impossibly closer into him. Sighing, Bakugou defeatedly peeled back his comforter, sliding both of your intertwined bodies under his sheets, tucking both of you in to the best of his abilities.

As his head hit his pillow, he couldn’t help but stare at your soft features as they were illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through his window. He couldn’t help but admire the way your long eyelashes fluttered over your cheeks with every breath, the way your H/C hair seemed to perfectly frame your face, the way your lips…

The way your lips looked so damn kissable.

Bakugou didn’t want to admit it to himself, but, as he lay there, eyes drinking in your every feature, he could feel himself falling harder and harder for you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, synchronizing his breaths with yours, until he too fell into a deep slumber.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke gently, groaning in response to the sunlight hitting your face. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you attempted to sit up.

Huh? you thought, I can’t get up.

You opened your eyes, and immediately realized that something was wrong. The walls, the ceiling, the window, they looked unfamiliar to you. This was not your room. Looking around, you noticed some neatly organized school books on the desk, black t-shirts on the back of the chair, All Might figurines, and—wait, was that shoujo manga on the nightstand? You suddenly notice an arm wrapped around your torso, possibly the reason why your efforts to sit up failed earlier.

And then you realized that that arm was connected to a very certain spiky-haired blond. Who happened to be your best friend and your crush. And who was currently holding you in a death grip. With his face very close to yours.

You felt your cheeks burning up.

holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck

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destiny-islanders · 4 years

Text

@dysfunctionalnerd I have some tips but they’re gonna go under a read-more. I had to black out the name so it wouldn’t spoil anyone. I won’t use the secret boss’s name even under the cut, just to be safe!

Secret Boss (SB from here on) is fast as I was driving home on KH3 release day after work and has windows of opportunity to hit him smaller than Xehanort’s chances of ever being satisfyingly redeemed. It’s going to take you hours to learn SB’s different combos and how to survive them.

That said, here are some pointers:

EAT FOOD

Stuff your face with the best food you can. It’s worth your time to load up your save file and spend some time in the kitchen to make three-star meals that boost Sora’s stats even higher than normal dishes do

Bring items at your peril (But you will probably need them)

SB has a move where he can trap Sora in a tractor beam like a weirdly-dressed UFO. But unlike abducting YOU, he’s abducting ALL OF YOUR STUFF

Yes this includes your Kupo Coin

Yes he will use it to stop himself from dying once

The thing is, this siphon attack is actually REALLY easy to avoid. You can tell it’s coming when SB’s health bar converts to armor, he turns red, and floats into the air. When he starts to fly around, LOCK ONTO HIM, jump into the air, and glide in a circle around the very edge of the map. SB will try to teleport behind you, but as long as you’re gliding along at full speed, you’ll be able to get out of his range with your items still tucked away safely in your giant anime protag pockets

I had a Kupo Coin and elixirs equipped and never got any of them stolen because it’s easy enough to avoid being pickpocketed once you learn what to do

Have a Thunder shortcut

If you’re just looking to survive the fight and not necessarily finish flawlessly, I’d recommend short-cutting a Link for easy access so you can claw your way through SB’s DMs with the desperation of the dying man Sora becomes

Links Are Friends

Links are still pure cheese in the SB fight. I used Ariel, personally. She is great for helping you evade combos that are just too overwhelming to fight (I never did get the hang of dodging the blue lasers) and also deals pretty good damage if you manage to catch SB outside of a combo

Like I said-- my killing blow against SB was WITH Ariel...

I also summoned Meow Wow by accident once is he good luck????

Ariel would usually make an appearance during the second half of the dome sections (where he’s firing off red and blue lasers and teleporting around like a madman). If you time it late enough, you can avoid the laser light show of death AS WELL AS the fiery orb of death that SB summons when you’re back in the normal map

Save Form Changes

Ultima Weapon and Oathkeeper/Oblivion have AMAZING blocks and dodges, and deal way more damage when you’re in their respective forms. Save them for when you’ve got SB on the ropes to maximize your damage output

Locking on to SB with Flowmation and using it to zip over to him is THE way to cinch your chances of delivering a one-health-bar-beatdown after you’ve survived a combo

Poking him with thunder also helps if you’re way across the map

Openings I’ve found:

Laser/teleporty swordy combo

This is probably the easiest attack to react to. He’ll alternate between firing lasers off at you and teleporting over your head to liberate it from your shoulders. There’s a rhythm to timing the blocks that’s not too hard to get the hang of.

At the end of the combo, he’ll teleport away and a sword will appear behind you to stab you in the back.. Dodge roll away, then quickly block. Sora will deflect the sword and SB will be so blown away by how fuckin cool that was that he’ll float uselessly in the air long enough for you to show him your cool moves up close

Help I’m Trapped In a Laser Pyramid of Emotions

The timing is a little tricky to get out of the pyramids before they lock you in and Xemnas you into Swiss cheese. Basically, as soon as the lines of the triangles start to form, dodge roll-- but don’t go too far. Imediately block, because SB will try and sashimi you while you’re celebrating your triangular prism evasion. He’ll summon another pyramid. Dodge it like you dodged the first-- but cast Thunder as quickly as you can, because SB is inside it and he’s not wearing insulated boots. If you time it right, you’ll electrocute the emo out of his hair and be able to dish out the hurt

Pew Pew

This one is kind of inconsistent because there have been times where I’ve tried to move in to punch his face and he promptly teleports it out of reach across the map. But it’s worth noting

He’ll fire lasers at you in a long chain, then hovers in the air for the slightest second. I HAVE been able to Flowmotion over to him and kick his teeth in a couple times during this slight pause. But again, it’s inconsistent. If you want to play it safe, you might just want to ride out this combo and wait for another window of opportunity

Caught in the Crosshairs

SB will disappear, and crosshairs will suddenly appear over Sora three times. Block or dodge roll to avoid each shot. SB is vulnerable immediately after the third shot.

Petty Larcency

In the first half of the fight, SB will try three times to Steal Your Stuff. He’s actually vulnerable right after the second attempt, I’ve found. I’ve poked him with fireballs that took off hearty chunks of his healthbar. It’s kinda risky though, since he’ll start up a third Tractor Beam Of Thievery that you’ll probably want to prioritize staying away from. So I wouldn’t recommend going for him here if you can help it

Teleport Teleport Teleport

So after you survive the mid-fight trip to the Thunderdome and return to the original map, SB will get an armor bar and proceed pop in and out of existence to knock you into next week. You can block and immediately counter these strikes to chip away at his armor pretty quickly. If you completely deplete his armor bar, he’s wide open and you can attack him

That’s all I can think of. I bet by now there are video guides that show exactly how to handle this fight if you need more help.

Good luck!! You got this! >:D

#destiny answers #long post #kh remind spoilers

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mxbitters · 4 years

Note

Do you have any band recommendations? I’ve been trying to get more into the punk and/or emo scene more so I’m looking for some new bands.

AHA! yesyesyes i will share bands with you :)) this is gonna be wordy so i’m sorry--

taking back sunday! they’re from long island, i’d consider them an emo band even though they’re a little hesitant about the label. they started up around the same general time mcr did, same general scene too. their first album tell all your friends is absolutely kickass and is great for laying around and listening start to finish. however individual songs i’d recommend are timberwolves at new jersey, great romances of the 20th century, a decade under the influence, you can’t look back, and of course makedamnsure and cute without the e :)

saves the day! another new jersey emo band formed in the late 90′s, i won’t lie i’m so biased everybody says through being cool was their most influential album, one of those landmark emo albums, but for me, my favorite album is their first one, can’t slow down. from that one my gateway was the song jodie so i think that’s a good place to start!!

ok stepping away from new jersey, more recent bands, i’m like legally obligated to mention sorority noise because art school wannabe is a song by them. they’re from my state and actually one of them went to the same (art) school i did!! aside for that song, i’d really recommend dirty ickes, using, and mononokay. but with those last two songs and blonde hair black lungs just be careful because they can be kinda triggering, their singer is pretty open about his struggles with depression, drugs, all that, so i should mention that. they are on hiatus i believe at the moment but like they’re still an incredible band, and they’re AMAZING live.

modern baseball!!! they’re a fucking classic, they’re from philadelphia (ok ok maryland at first if you really want specifics), and they’re about as emo as it gets. they’re also on hiatus, or split, i don’t really know and it’s kinda sad but regardless they’re absolutely incredible. my gateway was tears over beers, i’d also recommend the weekend, fine, great, your graduation, and all the other songs i’m suddenly drawing a blank over.

ANOTHER philly band but this one’s technically punk, kinda emo (in my opinion) and deserve every ounce of your attention. this one’s the menzingers, and they are absolutely PHENOMENAL. perhaps this is just my band friends converting me into somebody who will eventually have a shrine specifically to their album on the impossible past, but regardless oh my god listen to them. i’d give you recommendations but the ones that pop up immediately are the opening and closing songs of that album. just listen to on the impossible past tbh.

okay we’re going into more punk bands,, umm,, AGAINST ME!! they started up in gainesville, relocated to chicago, you want anarchist punk? against me! is the band. you want a trans punk role model?? laura jane grace, i swear, she’s your person. i have her memoir, i also saw them live front row and probably did way too much pointing because i’d never been to a real punk show, nevermind front row at the most crowded punk show on earth right before the tour got cancelled due to covid. songs?? oh god there are so many. baby, i’m an anarchist is such a classic, pints of guinness make you strong is so good too, thrash unreal, borne on the fm waves of the heart, i was a teenage anarchist, transgender dysphoria blues (the album and the song, this was after laura came out), true trans soul rebel, crash, white people for peace, and like every song i don’t know by them because i did not know half the lyrics at that show tbh. they actually played something new but i genuinely cannot remember it :’)

ok back to more emo bands uh remo drive has been like blowing up these past few years and honestly? good for them. anything off greatest hits (ironically their first album) is excellent, i haven’t really listened to tons of their new stuff. but i’d recommend hunting for sport, yer killin’ me, strawberita, name brand, eat shit, i’m my own doctor, okay that whole album really. i also really like the grind :) they just released a whole new album, portrait of an ugly man, i haven’t listened yet though

here’s a mouthful, the world is a beautiful place and i am no longer afraid to die, they’re from willimantic ct, (aka my state and the town i’m going to college in haha) and are like? a nine piece band that kinda switches out for shows, which is kind of wild. they are so unique in emo because you don’t usually see THAT much variety in instrumentals. like you got the front bottoms with their trumpet or whatever but that’s not even close to what twiabp pulls off. i can talk all i want but it’ll never truly do them justice. listen to you can’t live there forever, and here’s a video of them playing heartbeat in the brain live!!

there are definitely a shit ton more than this but i’m gonna have to get up so i’m gonna leave you with that for now :))

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peach-pops · 4 years

Note

hi babes! can i request a haikyuu and mha matchup? i’m 5’1 and i have wavy brown hair with freckles. i also need to wear glasses but sometimes i just ✨dont✨. i also wear a l o t of eyeliner. i love going on adventures like visiting haunted houses, abandoned places, etc etc, the crazier the better. i also like joking around a lot and i’m very sarcastic about things. my ✨anthems✨ are Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood and Threat of Joy - The Strokes. i also rlly enjoy the holidays❤️ thank you babes<3

Daddy issues asjkagd I’ve been listening to this all day on repeat send help. I hope you enjoy your matchup!!! Matchups are closed!

I ship you with Bokuto!

He is such a thrill seeker you don’t even understand!!! Like you don’t even need to convince him, everytime you suggest a cool abandoned place to check out, he’s always up for it

He does not chicken out BUT I HC he’s scared of spider’s so if he sees one during your escapades, he will hold onto you for dear life

You both match each other’s energy so well- if you're hype, he’s hype and you get even more hype because of him and the cycle just continues until one of you crashes

I always like to point this out when people include heights but GIRL he is a whole foot taller than you!!!

If you let him, this means unlimited piggyback rides and instead of bending down, he will pick you up to kiss you

If you ever want to be a lil mean with him, you will pretend you don’t want kisses and I stg he gets so emo. Like he’ll pick u up and try to press a kiss on ur lips but u move and squirm to where it only hits your chin or cheeks util eventually, you give in

Sorry if you have afternoon plans afterschool cause the team honestly expects you to be there at practice and all of the games just in case Bokuto gets in a mood. If Bokuto ever makes a super good spike and asks you if you saw him, you always compliment him super loud (even if you missed it caus you were reading/on your phone/doing homework, just say you saw it cause you will never hear the end of it)

If you’re a touch starved person, don’t fret cause he will always shower you in kisses/cuddles pretty much whatever your heart desires

And yes, he will absolutely melt if you wear his jersey so pls do that

I ship you with Bakugo!

Mmmmm I’m gonna be real, you two did not like each other at first. His reason was that tbh he felt a bit threatened by your quirk because uhhh it’s as strong as his!!!

Quirk: Exploding Sound- you can convert sound energy into heat/kinetic energy. If the sound is louder, the explosion is stronger and of course opposite the other way around

He tried to ignore his feelings for you by avoiding you at all costs. Like he had mean nicknames for everyone except you and at one point, you felt left out like “dang, I kinda want a mean nickname from him”

It wasn’t until you got kidnapped by the LOV instead of him that he finally came to the realization that damn it, he really did have feelings for you and it absolutely killed him wondering if you were okay or not

Of course,once him and the others rescued you, you kinda figured out your mutual feelings for each other. You decided to ask him out since you thought he would be too stubborn to ask you out but that only got him mad so you had to pretend like you never asked him out so he could ask you the next day

ANYWAY

You two are not only a power couple, but a POWERFUL couple. With your quirks you two are basically unstoppable and for him, he always considers you an equal match to him but he would never say it out loud cause he thinks it’ll go to your head

(I also feel like you two would share eyeliner and he would insist you’re applying it wrong just so he can put it on you himself)

Lots of lil arguments that are just for fun and you like to play a game where you’re extra sarcastic to see what goes over his head and what doesn’t

Yeah, there are times where he can be very stubborn towards you but for the most part, it’s because he is just really protective over you and doesn’t want anything bad to happen

Over time, he will become more affectionate but patience is key so for now, you don’t mind settling for teddy bear bakugo behind closed doors

#peach-pops-ships #bnha ships #haikyuu ships

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vmheadquarters · 4 years

Text

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Ten of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @loveobsessed2. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.11 from @pepandliv1 -tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER TEN by @loveobsessed2

“Mac? How long have you been here? Do you have internet access? What are you looking at? Are you involved in the mystery? Another fake victim? How and when did you get here? Oooh, can I have some of your chips?”

Mac immediately turned the bag in their direction and spoke a little louder than normal to be heard over Veronica’s crunching.

“Hey, Bond, slow down. I arrived the same way you did, just a day earlier. I didn’t know you were gonna be here, but once I saw your name on the final list, I was really hoping you’d find me. I have a few questions of my own, but you know I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Logan pulled the other two chairs back from the table and gestured for V to sit down. She offered him the bag of chips as she complied.

“Did you know Mac was here?”

“Nope, I’m just as surprised as you are.” His voice was light as he tossed a chip up in the air, expertly catching it in his teeth, and using his tongue to bring it fully into his mouth.

Veronica’s eyes were riveted on his mouth as she quipped, “Two happy surprises in one day. How did I get so lucky?

“I’ll show you lucky.” He waggled his eyebrows as she flushed.

“I can see that your reunion is going well.” Mac cleared her throat to regain their attention before finding herself in a very awkward situation. “When I first found out you were here, I was contemplating ways I could bring you two together from behind the scenes. Of course, that was before an actual dead body was discovered.”

“Smart thinking on staying hidden from the rest of the guests. We all know everyone is a suspect.” Logan tensed next to her, and Veronica reached out for his hand then hurried to add, “Present company excluded. And Wallace of course.”

“Of course," Mac agreed. "What do you want to know? You already met my roommate, Jen.”

“Jen is your roommate? What happened to Parker?” Veronica was noticeably confused.

“I’m so glad you listen when I talk, Veronica. I told you, Parker didn't come back this semester and is already partially into her sophomore year at a local college in Denver. Jen has been my roommate since October. I like her much better than the emo chick I was assigned at the start of the semester. Bonus points that when she throws a party I make money, instead of getting stuck chatting with random strangers who tease me about my name and offer me apples. I know I told you all about the murder mystery side gig I’ve been helping out with. How else did you think Wallace scored an invite?” Mac paused to let that settle in and allowed her expression to show her satisfaction that she knew something before Veronica. “You’re welcome by the way. I’m the one who suggested his invite specify a female plus-one.” Mac gestured to the happy couple. “Based on the two of you being attached at the hip since your arrival, I’m assuming my plan worked.”

Logan and Veronica shared a look and then smiled at Mac. It was all the proof she needed.

“So, what’s with Duncan and Norris and Leo? How do they all fit into the master plan?”

“I wasn’t in on any of that. Jen said Duncan and Norris were sent by Mistress X. She didn’t let on if she knew Duncan was--or still is-- a fugitive. I'm assuming the rest of the team is also in her employ. Jen is the only one I’ve had contact with. All I know about Leo is what I overheard from the guests over the security feed.”

“Security feed? You’ve been recording us? Like, with hidden cameras?!”

“Where? Why didn’t we see them?!”

“We always have cameras. And listening devices. It’s how we make sure the guests stay safe. And offer the less intelligent ones some extra clues. You wouldn’t believe how much people don’t notice.” The two girls shared a knowing look until Mac broke eye contact. “I’m just sorry I disabled the ones in your room once I heard Logan come in.”

“Dang it! I thought we finally had a way to figure out who pushed you.” Logan rejoined the conversation.

“I can’t believe there are hidden cameras and I didn’t even think to look for them. Someone has been distracting me recently.” Veronica shot Logan a pointed look. “Let’s not even get into the fact that that same someone could be voted ‘least likely to see a hidden camera.’”

“Well ex-cu-use me for thinking there were more important things to focus on. Like maybe making sure no one else died?” Logan’s sarcastic and condescending retort did nothing but further raise Veronica’s hackles.

“You guys…” Mac’s voice doesn’t even register with them.

Veronica didn’t attempt to soften her words as she spat out, “Are you implying I wasn’t? Being the most observant person in the room isn’t easy. Especially when I’m surrounded by a bunch of rich pampered idiots. Let’s not forget their king - the only guy I know who could live somewhere for most of his life and fail to notice that his favorite hang-out contained not one, but two hidden cameras.”

Giving up any pretense she’s not hanging on their every word, Mac propped her feet on the table, and started munching on red vines.

“Oh yes, Sugarpuss, you are the queen of detecting, and we all bow before your greatness.” Logan demonstrated with a flourish of his hand. “You certainly would never have failed to notice a hidden camera.”

“Low blow, Logan, low blow. I’m sorry I was distracted the first time by the revelation that my best friend was being taken advantage of by a psychopath. And how many times do I have to tell you? That. Was. Not. A. Sex. Tape.” She enunciated every word before accusing. “You saw the video, you should know!”

“I didn’t watch the whole thing, but it sure looked like a sex tape to me.”

“What? Did you expect me to play the part of the ever-jealous ex-girlfriend? After Madison?”

“Let’s set the record straight. What happened with Madison is definitely not what you imagined.”

Veronica’s defensive shell began to slip and her voice cracked. “Sure.”

His gaze was vulnerable and sincere as he caught her eyes. “Hey, Veronica,” he soothed, scooting his chair closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I know, we need to talk about all of this, but let’s dial it back a little.”

“OK,” Veronica whispered, as she buried her face in his side and relaxed into his embrace. “I didn’t realize how fresh it still was.”

“Me neither.” He stroked her hair and planted a kiss on her crown. “I know there’s a lot we need to work through. I am so sorry for hurting you.”

Veronica reached out and gently cradled his face in her hands. “Oh, Logan, I only dated Piz because I couldn’t stand to be alone while you seemed to have moved on so spectacularly without me. I should have tried harder. There’s always hope when it comes to us. There has to be.” She offered him a tentative smile and continued. “I know we’ve messed up a lot in the past, but I really do want to figure this out with you. I’m sick of being without you. A bad day with you is better than a great day with anyone else.”

Logan reached down to cup her face and the hope that shone in his eyes was almost blinding. “No more running?” he whispered.

“No more running,” she assured just before his lips met hers. She wrapped her arms firmly around him in an effort to prove that she was never letting him go again. His strong arms pulled her tight against him, and they got lost in each other as their bodies apologized and soothed in ways that words never could.

The sound of Mac once again clearing her throat jolted them out of their fugue state, and laughter bubbled out of their chests.

"Ok guys, I’m glad you’re finally hashing out some of your issues but there are a little bit more pressing matters at hand. We need to make some kind of plan while we’re still alone.” She paused long enough for them to nod their agreement. “This whole situation is a little out of control. All the mystery actors are staying in the servant’s quarters. I’ll keep an eye on them and report any suspicious activity. You two are with the rest of the guests, so I’m sure you’ve got that side of things covered. I’m bummed I didn’t buy the new Thuraya SatSleeve phone converter case before this trip. If I ever needed a satellite phone it's now.” Mac showed her frustration by smacking her forehead with her palm. “My laptop was connected to the internet before the storm hit. It was a spotty and slow connection, but it was better than the non-connection I have now. Has Wallace had any luck with the phones?"

"No, both landlines have cut cords, so that was a dead end." The slow shake of Logan’s head emphasized his words.

"Right, but surely you’re smart enough to realize your remote-control plane building BFF knows how to splice together a cut cord…" Mac raised an eyebrow in question. “I guess you were already on your way in here when he brought up looking for a tool kit to attempt some diagnostics and repairs.”

"Further proof that every Bond needs a Q." Veronica quipped, with no evidence of her previous vulnerability.

"Truer words were never spoken.” Mac met her friend’s eyes with a grin. “We really need to establish a connection to the outside world. Right now, my phone is as good as a paperweight. I can’t believe none of these spoiled 09ers has a satellite phone. Money is wasted on the rich."

“I take offense to that!” Logan interjected. “I’ve never been in a position to need a satellite phone until pretty much right now. I should’ve known better than to believe Dick when he told me all of our needs would be taken care of, and all we had to do is show up. He claimed he had the perfect vacation for us over winter break and it would give me the distraction I needed." His eyes shifted to Veronica and then away again nervously.

Veronica chose not to dig into what sounded like a painful topic for Logan and addressed Mac instead. "Mac, if you saw what was going on, why didn’t you leave me some kind of clue, so I could find you sooner?"

Mac shrugged. "The doors are rigged and only open from the inside at certain times. I was getting everything ready for when you did find me. I knew it wouldn’t take long. I was just getting re-connected to the internet before the chandelier went crashing to the ground. Maybe it took out some wires? I tried to log onto Prying Eyez to get some info on Leo and Duncan, but I don’t have your new password.”

“Yeah, Dad kicked me off his server after the whole lost election evidence tampering fiasco. Here’s my new login and password. Once you get back online, will you hack into Vinnie’s files and find out what Leo was working on recently and if that’s what brought him here? Him being here the same weekend we were all brought together is too big of a coincidence to even pretend they’re not connected.”

Veronica reached into her bag and pulled out the damaged page of Leo’s notes.

Holding it out for Mac to see, she said, “Once you get back online will you get me the rest of this case file? Even when we can get off this island, I’m gonna need to find out what happened to Leo. Why was he here? Why did he leave the sheriff's office and start working for Vinnie? Was he working both jobs at the same time? Was he undercover somehow? Is his death related to this case?"

“Why do you care so much about a guy you claim to only have dated briefly?” Logan teased.

“He was a pretty decent guy, and he was a great source of info.” Veronica defended.

“Yeah, decent guys always rob the cradle. Were you even legal?” Logan asked.

“That was years ago, and I ended that once you and I started kissing. He’s the only guy I ever cheated on. Maybe I feel a little bit of lingering guilt. The least I can do is solve his murder. I used him just like I’ve used everyone else. I’m sorry for the times I’ve gotten so wrapped up in solving a case that I didn’t stop to take your needs or feelings into consideration. You too, Mac. You know you mean more to me than that, right?”

Mac gave her friend a reassuring smile right before Logan chimed in. “Speaking of people who mean something to us, it looks like your BFF is pretty smooth with the ladies.” Logan gestured to Mac’s screen, and the trio gathered around to watch Wallace with his high-school crush.

“Teaching a girl how to do something without mansplaining really is a great seduction tool.” Veronica playfully bumped Logan aside with her hip, and they settled in to watch Wallace and Alexis in the kitchen. The telephone and an assortment of objects were spread out on the counter in front of them.

Wallace turned to her and said, “There was a pretty extensive collection of items in the junk drawer but surprisingly no wire snips or pliers. I’ll just have to make do with a knife and this roll of electrical tape.”

He picked up one end of the severed cord and held it so Alexis could see what he was doing. She paid close attention as Wallace showed her how to remove the white outer coating to reveal the four colored wires underneath. He then stripped each individual wire of its insulation, being careful to cut just the rubber coating without damaging the actual wire. They clearly seemed to be enjoying their time together, even though it was spent performing such a mundane task. Alexis was a quick study and picked up the other end of the cord while holding out her hand for the knife. Her movements weren’t as practiced as his, but her nimble fingers mimicked his movements until her wires were just as ready as his. Their eyes met, and his smile was full of approval. He then demonstrated how to align the two cords of matching color and twist their exposed ends together to ensure a strong connection, before wrapping each wire in electrical tape; this took the place of the previously removed rubber insulation, before sealing them together with a new piece of tape. They shared a smile of mutual accomplishment before plugging the cord back into the phone. The keypad lit up when the receiver was lifted. “No dial tone. The phones must be out. We’ll keep checking. They’ve gotta come back at some point. We should check the box in the basement, but that should probably wait until morning,” Wallace said, as he pulled Alexis into his arms.

The trio turned their attention from the screen to give the new couple some privacy. Veronica sighed and suggested they go their separate ways, but not before inquiring about Mac’s supply of snacks. Mac handed Veronica the key to the pantry, and promised to dig up a map of the grounds, as well as blueprints for the main house and any other structures on the island.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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artemismoon12writes · 4 years

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Title: A Vested Interest

Daltonfic Big Bang: Week 3, Day 5, Dwodd

Ryan Cobb still didn’t know about his desk chair, so money was still up for grabs. Nice.

“Fuck off!” Derek yelled, looking across the large, white and glass hallway of the Ohio Brooks Parker Galleria Mall to the Hot Topic.

“What is it?” Bailey asked, not turning from his sink full of dishes. He was up to his elbows in coffee mugs and dessert-stained plates. “Is Sebastian coming up to ask for another job application?”

“Shut up Bailey, you know it’s only because he thinks Julian’s hot, not because he wants to work here. And no; it’s not that asshole.” Derek gestured across the hallway; Bailey couldn’t see it because he still had his back turned, uncaring. “It’s that fucking asshole and his boyfriend!”

“Who?”

“You know, the assistant manager and that hipster guy!”

“Oh Dwight?” Bailey asked. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re fucking again!”

Bailey made an amused noise. “Good for them.”

“Good for them!?” Derek exclaimed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, if you could get laid at work you would.” Bailey said, hiding his laughter. “I’m glad you don’t for the record; I don’t want to clean that up, but it’s a little funny.”

“Exactly- how is it that the goth who isn’t even in charge of that place is getting laid and I’m here in a fucking Starbucks like a loser?”

While Derek was ranting, he was ignoring the girl at the register. Bailey shot her a look, commiserating before drying his hands to take her order.

“And if we’re really splitting hairs here Bailey, shouldn’t he, I don’t know? Be doing his job? Instead of letting his little hipster boyfriend fuck him in the changerooms?”

Bailey rolled his eyes, grabbing a larger sized cup for their customer and waving her panicked look aside. It was the least he could do since she was putting up with Derek’s ranting.

“Jeez, Derek if it bothers you so much, just join in our betting pool and you at least could make some money off it.” Bailey said, steaming the milk like it was just another normal day. Which, working with Derek for at long as he had, it kind of was.

“Betting pool?”

Their customer interjected, “I’m from the Barnes and Noble next door; we’ve got it going with us, Clay and the boys in the store, Bailey and y’all, and then then Chels and the Pet Co. downstairs for how long it’ll take the manager to catch them.”

“All those people know? And Ryan still hasn’t figured it out?” Derek asked, confounded.

She shrugged, “Yeah, well, Pet Co. was waiting for the two month mark to send Ryan upstairs at the right moment; but Todd and Dwight were just talking; I’m thinking Clay ran interference so the bet’s still going.”

Derek looked caught between anger and intrigue. He looked at her with a scowl before, “Put me down for fifty bucks on two weeks from now. Ryan’s not an idiot, he’ll realize.”

“Not if he spends all his time downstairs with the fish tanks.” Bailey pointed out.

“Why is he even managing a Hot Topic if he loved animals so much?”

“He’d never sell anything if he worked downstairs, that’s why.” Their customer pointed out, wandering back to the Barnes and Noble with her drink. “Good luck boys!”

Oh it’s on, Derek thought, not realizing how difficult a task it would actually be to accomplish.

---

Two months of this nonsense aside, Dwight Houston had not set out to completely disregard professionalism and decorum when he got this throwaway job at the mall. His mother raised him better than that- or so she kept saying. He was only here for the sole purpose of keeping his car and proving he was responsible- nothing more. If he had enough knowledge of alternative culture to tell people why Hot Topic was the worst place to shop, that wasn’t his problem. He was merely the solution.

When Todd Hendricks, or “Hipster Guy” as he referred to him for the first two weeks in his head, walked in, there was no master plan to get back at his manager for promoting him in this insanity. No, it was only a short conversation, based around Todd’s utter incompetence.

“If she’s a real goth, she will not want anything we sell here. This is emo shit, New Oracle in Glensdale is the real space for crystals. This is just plastic and Yellow 33!” Dwight shook the fake silver jewellery at the customer and his wide rimmed glasses, plaid shirt, and rough, red scarf. “Your sister will not like this.”

“But that’s why it’s funny. Because it’s not authentic.” The customer (who would be known as Todd) said. “She’ll hate it and it’ll be hilarious.”

“It’s offensive! You say she’s a witch, then it’s doubly offensive.” Dwight said, motioning to put the piece back up on the highest shelf with the pole hook.

“I’m her brother, she’ll know it’s a joke.” He argued. “I’m not here to rock your goth purist boat.”

“I am not a goth,” Dwight said, putting the offending piece out of reach. “I am a post-industrial punk with spiritualist leanings; its completely different.”

“Sure.” Was the response, grinning like he’d not proven anything.

Dwight groaned, “Clay, back me up here; the Vampire Diaries spinoff jewellery is not something we should be promoting to any self-respecting goth.”

His part-timer, Clay Rizzo, poked out from behind the piercing display where he totally wasn’t trying to steal new lip rings. “I don’t know Dwight; I am one of those emo pieces of shit, so maybe I’d recommend it?”

“I get no support around here!” Dwight said, stalking to the back of the store. “Impossible!”

Todd looked over to the part-timer, decked in the unofficial uniform of all black and a hundred emo-band pins. “I think I’m dropping by more often.”

Clay gave him an evil grin. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

---

From there it escalated; Todd coming in multiple times a week just to annoy Dwight. Well, that’s what Dwight assumed until Todd asked for his phone number.

“What? Why’d you want that?”

Todd looked at him like he was an idiot. “Because I’ve been flirting with you this whole time? Were you not…”

Clay, unknown to the two of them, was watching with Robin and Jake from behind the t-shirts. They were supposed to be executing the planogram; but why do that when there was drama to observe?

“I was not.” Dwight said robotically. “Uh, okay, that’s…”

“I literally looped a tie around your neck and pulled you in, and you didn’t realize I was into you?”

Clay, who remembered that exchange, had to be smothered with a Haven shirt but Jake to stop him from making noise.

“In my defence, I’m not used to people flirting with me.”

“If you’re not interested, that’s fine. I just thought-”

“I’m not not interested?” Dwight interjected before Todd turned away and walked out. “I’m just, uh, not used to … this?”

“I can work with that.”

It somehow progressed, in spite of Dwight’s inherent awkwardness. Jake, Robin, Jasper, and Clay respectively waving the pair off whenever Dwight took his lunch break now.

“They grow up so fast.” Clay said dramatically while Dwight gave him the finger. Todd just smiled at his conspirator and told them to take care of the store. Not that he worked there. He was there often enough he’d take to reminding Dwight about stock orders, schedules, and that Jake had a family dinner coming up so someone had to get it covered. The store had never run so well as it did when Todd started dating their assistant manager.

---

“Where did you guys put the Manic Panic?” Ryan Cobb, actual manager of Hot Topic, called out from the stockroom. “There should be a packing slip for a 3 pack of each colour, but all I see is overstock of those short-shorts!”

“I don’t know, ask Jake,” Dwight said, standing on a step ladder with Jasper spotting him. “He was in last night when the delivery came in.”

“I’m asking you. How can you be my assistant manager and not know where the hair dye is? We have that Chang girl coming in later and I promised her we’d have her order in!” Ryan called. “I’m going on break, that dye should be on the shelf when I get back.”

Ryan left, once again for supposedly fifteen minutes- but the entire staff knew he’d be gone for the rest of the day downstairs to play with the parakeets Pet Co. just got in.

“Oh, you’re in trouble.” Robin said, amused.

“Shut up.” Dwight muttered. “I bet Jake just put them somewhere weird. Call him and see what’s going on.”

“I’ll call him. He told me nothing came in last night though.”

“Perfect, just fucking perfect.” Dwight groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Todd asked, coming in with a cardboard tray of drinks. “I just saw Ryan go by, if he’s actually in the store for any minute I’m scared the place will burst into flames.”

“Once in a blue moon, it happens I guess.” Dwight admitted, climbing down the ladder to receive his kiss on the cheek and the green tea Todd brought for him.

“What’s happening?” Todd asked, taking his own coffee off the tray and pushing the sugar-laden third and fourth cups to the part-timers he’d been subtly converting to his side. Jasper particularly grabbed his eagerly, gushing thank yous.

“Jake might have lost a delivery.” Dwight paused, “Or not? I don’t know about the warehouse, but they’ve been fucking up recently anyways. I swear I can’t find last night’s order but the stockroom does look like shit…”

“You have a computer? There should be a record of orders received and rejected? I know not everyone still does things hard copy.” Todd suggested.

“It’s in the manager’s office!” Robin volunteered. “Not that we’re allowed in there. It’s for Ryan and Dwight only.”

“Well, they can’t fire me so I don’t care about that rule.” Todd said, taking a sip of his coffee and beelining to the back room.

Dwight scrambled to follow him. “No! No! No customers in the back!”

“Oh come on, if Ryan’s going to get mad at you about it then I might as well try to help.” Todd said, finding the tiny room easily and placing himself in the desk chair like he owned the place. “Password’s hottopic123, very creative, not hacking proof at all.”

“It’s a formality, that’s why it’s on the post-it.” Dwight grumbled, reluctant to admit he was grateful for the help.

“Okay, well according to your emails it’s right there. They’re not sending it because of the USPS strike. I don’t know why Ryan didn’t notice that.” Todd said after a few open tabs and a control+f.

“Oh that’s why.” Dwight grumbled, pointing to the open tabs on tanks for tropical fish. “He was distracted.”

“Why is he in charge of a Hot Topic if he doesn’t want to even work here?” Todd asked, looking through the pages. “Like, if you’re desperate you could work for the raptor sanctuary; they’re hiring.”

“Wait, you know the raptor sanctuary?” Dwight asked, intrigued. “I have an owl there.”

“I’m sponsoring Rowena, the prairie-”

“Merlin.” Dwight finished. “Yeah, she’s the one who the workers are teaching how to do the flight tricks right?”

“Yeah.” Todd paused, “You’re Castiel’s sponsor? I thought that name was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid! It’s a good name!” Dwight said before realizing Todd was joking with him. “Oh, okay.”

“So, if Ryan is going to ignore the email in his inbox in favour of spending all his time at Pet Co. I propose we do something to get him back.” Todd said, spinning around in the chair and closing the door to the office. It was more like a cupboard with how much room there was.

Dwight looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

Todd locked the door, “You’ll see.”

---

Robin wasn’t sure what was happening until he went to knock on the door and heard it. Shit. Maybe Dwight was cool.

First thing he did was tell Jake over the phone, who told Jasper, who told Clay- who told literally the entire mall by the time he’d made it in for his closing shift.

“Who knew the dude had it in him.” Jake said, punching in, careful to give the office door a lot of room. “I mean, I would do that but Dwight’s always struck me as a bit of a-”

“A nerd?” Jasper supplied.

“I’m so proud of my dads.” Clay said, already on the top of a stepladder switching out t-shirts. “Like, I can’t use that office so I don’t give a shit- but it’s also hilarious. How long do you think it takes Ryan to notice?”

“First, they’re not your dads.” Jake said.

“Todd gave me a gold star for my pins last week, they’re my dads.” Clay said, half joking, but mostly trying to annoy Jake.

“Okay, fine. Secondly, Ryan isn’t going to notice shit. If he hasn’t notice you’ve been stealing lip rings to wear while at work he is not going to notice Dwight’s boyfriend fucked him in the office.”

“Or did Dwight fuck him?” Jasper asked.

“I don’t care.” Jake dismissed the comment. “Either way, it’ll be, like a year before Ryan realizes something is up.”

Clay grinned, “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

“You’re on.”

The pot, by the time Pet Co., Barnes and Noble, Starbucks, and Radio Shack got in on the action, was somewhere around $400. The only ones unaware, were the couple in question and Ryan Cobb.

---

“Shit, Clay! This isn’t what it looks like.” Dwight said hurriedly, Clay pulling open the curtain to the change rooms enough to poke his head in.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re just passionately embracing Todd.” Clay shrugged, “I could be wrong.”

Todd would have normally made a quip back, but he was too close to reply. “Uh, not a good time.”

“Well, you’ve got almost no time at all for this quickie because Ryan is on his way back. AKA, he’s on the elevator and if you’re here balls deep-“

“I will curse you so hard-”

“You’re already hard, I get it. Put some pants on, wrap it up.” Clay said, flipping the curtain closed. At least the two of them were polite enough to not make any of the part-timers do cleaning duties on these occasions.

Either way, Clay has a vested interest in not alerting Ryan right now. The pot was up to $800 now, and he would need that for next semester’s books. College was expensive.

---

In the end, it wasn’t Ryan who caught them; it was the night security guard who got them outside in Dwight’s ridiculously out of date Chevy. With an ‘indecent exposure’ strike on his record, Ryan had to let Dwight go. The betting pool wasn’t sure if this meant the bet was on, or off.

The next week, when he found Todd wandering past the Hot Topic to the men’s bathrooms with one lanky, gothic boyfriend in tow- he shot Todd a thumbs up and informed the rest of the mall the game was still on.

Ryan Cobb still didn’t know about his desk chair, so money was still up for grabs. Nice.

#daltonficbigbang2020 #daltonfic #mat #lols #otp #dwodd #dwight houston #todd hendricks #derek siegerson #bailey tipton #clay rizzo #jake paige #ryan cobb #jasper miller #robin woods #oneshot #artemiswrites

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nalufever · 4 years

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Second chapter to my Flash fic, my Snowells week 2020 entry ‘Happy Together.’ More road trip shenanigans!

The casual food dive the unlikely pair found themselves in was quaint and that meant the decor was at best a decade fresher than the no-tell motel. At least it smelled delicious. A doe-eyed twenty-something woman greeted and seated them, gave a short spiel about the specials and informed Frost and Eobard she’d be back very soon to take their orders.

What had to be a selection of locals were having a noisy meeting; loud talk about the mayoral race and even louder mentions of how good Vanessa looked in her pink waitress uniform. Both Frost and Eobard were of a mind to ignore these distractions until the dudebro in charge of the meeting started running his mouth in earnest.

“So, have y’all decided?”

Both Frost and Eobard nodded, but before either could speak, one of the rowdy regulars interrupted. “Nessa, can you freshen my coffee?”

Frost gave the waitress a small smile. “You should deal with Mr. Can’t Wait, first.”

“Ooh, that’s actually close to what we called him in middle school.” She giggled and pitched her voice louder, “We called Eddy The Little Emperor.” Vanessa dropped her order pad back into the small pocket of her apron and faced the little runt. “Oh, no, it’s not quite the same. Could you let me do my job for this nice couple? I’ll be right over with more coffee for the table once I take their order.” She only smiled as Eddy glowered. Giving her customers her attention again, Vanessa retrieved her order pad and flipped it open, her pen inches away from the surface. “Now, what caught your eye?”

“I’d like -”

“Your ass!” Eddy snickered without any remorse - surely he was the product of shoddy upbringing. “We’re regulars over here so don’t waste your time on uncertain tips.” He tapped his empty coffee cup and then started banging it on the table, several of his dudebro brethren copying. “March that fine ass back and serve us coffee.”

Frost lost every trace of ‘easy-going patron’ in her body she’d ever had in her life and by the look of disgust on Eobard’s face, so had he. Of one mind and will, they excused themselves from the table, stood and sauntered over to Eddy.

Eobard gave a regal hand wave to Frost, indicating the first shot was hers. She did not disappoint. “Eddy, Eddy, Eddy. Didn’t you ever learn to respect people? Ain’t nobody got time for your bullshit.”

“I must agree.” Eobard leaned over on the table and picked up Eddy’s coffee cup, giving the miscreant a wink that might have passed for roguish if it hadn’t been so evil. “If you’re in such a hurry, why not get it yourself?”

“I don’t know who you folks think you are, but you’d do well to learn to keep your noses out of other’s business!”

“Eddy, you got between us and our meal.” Frost gave Eddy her best dead-eyed stare. “You should learn how to play nice.”

“My dear, some guys never learn to be nice.” Eobard chuckled as the absurdity of what he was saying hit him. “But, some of us assholes do learn to at least fake it.” He sucked air over his teeth. His tone was low and threatening as he said, “Seems Eddy missed class that day.”

“Well, then. He needs to learn that lesson, yes?” Frost met Eobard’s eyes - trying to suss out what her erstwhile partner might be willing to commit to without drawing too much attention. Even if Eobard was not currently speedy, he still had what amounted to decades of evil-doing experience. “We’re over-qualified, but needs must, eh?”

“Hey, what’s with you two acting so tough? Some emo goth woman and an old man? Pfft! I ain’t scared.” Eddy stood abruptly, scraping his chair on the floor, making it skid noisily backwards. “I’m too important -”

Frost gave Eddy a sharp rabbit punch in the throat, smiling angelically as Eddy folded like a cheap suit.

He crumpled and sobbed - once he was able to inhale - like the little bitch he was.

“Any more takers?” Frost planted her hands on her hips and let her derision show on her face.

Eobard glared at the rest of Eddy’s posse. “Go while the gettin’ is good, or else my dear companion will hand out more lessons.”

In short and satisfying order the gaggle of men dragged Eddy out after tossing several bills onto the table to cover their bill.

Frost sat back down at their table and picked up her menu and smiled at the waiting Vanessa who had the widest grin on her face. “I’ll have the rib dinner with coleslaw and fries - no, make that a poutine.”

Eobard gave Frost one of his classic evil smirks. “Nice to know I’ve converted you into a poutine connoisseur.”

“As if! I’m just hungry.”

“Ain’t you two the cutest couple I’ve had in ages!” Vanessa ignored the distressed look Frost and Eobard exchanged. She asked Eobard, “And for you?”

“I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs special.”

“Cheese on your garlic bread?”

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll put in your orders and bring you drinks in a flash!” Vanessa speed-walked away, ignoring their protests they hadn’t selected anything to drink yet.

“Well, that went over better than a lead balloon.”

Eobard played with the salt and pepper shakers, clinking them as if he was heralding something momentous. “Lead balloons can float. Ever watch Myth Busters? You just gotta know what you’re doing.”

His companion sighed, putting an elbow on the table and settling her chin into her cupped hand. “You watch TV?”

“I’m human, aren't’ I?” Eobard answered. “TV or youtube, content is content. And, there’s too many streaming services to mention even half of them.”

“Debatable actually,” Frost scoffed, “Both things! You, human? And if content isn’t sometimes twisted by delivery. Don’t get me started on having to pay extra for one channel for one damn show and then they have the damn nerve to not have all the episodes available to view!”

“Tch. Angry much? And this is how you treat the wonderful person who introduced you to the amazing wonders of poutine?”

Vanessa bustled back to the table and plonked a very big bottle of red wine down. “Eddy has needed an ass kicking for too long. Thank you! No charge, so please enjoy!” She put two glasses next to the bottle. “I’ll be back with your food soon.”

Eobard raised one eyebrow. “How nice.”

“Better than you deserve.” Frost shook her head. “Sorry, bad habit. You were pretty decent.”

“Ah, that’s the damning faint praise I prefer.” He pointed to the bottle and smiled. “Open that and pour. I’m not going to let you hog our reward.”

“Wasn’t even thinking of not sharing.” Frost opened the wine and deliberately gave Eobard a generous pour and then filled her own. “Cheers to our little partnership.” She inclined her head as Eobard raised his glass to clink with her own. “Long may we wreak havoc.”

“Long may we wreak havoc.” Eobard copied Frost’s words a scant heart-beat later and then added his own sentiment. “Cheers to one astounding bad ass bitch.”

“True.” Frost brushed imagined fluff off her leather jacket. “I’m more lethal than the plague.”

“Funny fact, thirty years into the future there’s another plague.”

“That is funny.” Frost took a fortifying sip of her wine after Eobard’s weird proclamation. “And all this talk of disease makes me sooooo thirsty.”

><><><><

Frost supported a stumbling and giggling Eobard into their motel room. She guided him to the bathroom - just in time - and he barely remembered to shut the door before unzipping and relieving his bladder.

She shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off her boots. Tonight had been weird. Actually, all of today had been weird; from driving the Reverse Flash out of Central City to sharing food and then giving that loser Eddy the beat-down he so richly deserved. It kinda felt like a partnership.

Eobard waltzed out of the bathroom, his pants mercifully up but the fly was at half mast.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Frost resolutely looked away. “Zip up!” Why was she cursed with manners?

“What’s got your evil panties in a bunch?” Eobard struggled with his zipper, fumbling for long seconds before the tell-tale sound of metallic zipper teeth fusing together meant the free show was locked away. “Never guessed you to be a prude!”

“As if!” Frost forgot she’d removed her boots - she tried stomping over to her unlikely road trip companion but didn’t make as much of an intimidating impression as she’d hoped. “I happen to have respect for boundaries.”

“Hahahahah!” Eobard bent double, clutching his stomach. “Boundaries? This from the evil genius that ruined three of my best plans? Oh, you are too much!”

“Eh?” Frost knew she did not in any way shape or form sound like an evil genius at the moment - but the surprise was too overwhelming. “Huh? I ruined three of your best plans? You gotta be kidding me.”

“Tell me more lies!” Eobard stood straight and edged even further into Frost’s personal space, using his height to look down imperiously at the woman. “Tell me sweet little lies.” He swayed the most miniscule amount but he stared with fiery passion at Frost. “Sweet, sweet lies.”

Frost blamed nobody but herself for her next actions. She was an adult and this clash had been coming ever since the feeling of camaraderie from them working together to teach Eddy that lesson at the diner. Or maybe just because Eobard was one hot piece of ass. That could totally be the reason - and the fact she’d been in a dry spell in regards to finding a suitable relationship. Evil-doers need sex too.

“I’ll give you sweet lies.” Frost let the back of her hand caress Eobard’s stubbly cheek. “Sweet and addictive - but they’re lies.” Her other hand was clamped onto his shoulder and she half shoved, half shook the inebriated man. Eyes bright, she licked her lips and whispered. “Do you want my lies?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

It sounded exactly like a demand from Eobard, and that mentally ticked off the consent box for Frost. So that’s what she did - she coiled herself around the man, plunged her fingers into his dark hair and ravaged his mouth with a series of deep kisses. Long, long minutes passed. Breathing was a heavy chore for both Frost and Eobard - and when they broke contact, they were dazed and confused.

“S-sorry.” Frost hated to stutter - but that was small potatoes against the need to apologize. “I shouldn’t have -”

“Done that when I’m buzzed, yeah.” Eobard leaned against Frost, letting her support a good amount of his weight. “Tuck me into bed, okay?” He stepped out of his shoes and ignored how stiff and shocked Frost was as she openly watched him flop into the double bed. He patted the pillow beside him. “Tuck me in, I needs the sleep.”

“Far be it from me to keep you,” muttered Frost, “from the sleep.” She pulled the coverlet up to Eobard’s chin and tried to walk away - but he grabbed her wrist and tugged, urging her into the bed with him.

In a much softer and kinder tone than she’d ever heard from him, Eobard said, “Don’t make me sleep alone. I’m tired of the cold…”

Incredulous, Frost wanted to scoff, loudly - but she only sighed because Eobard rolled over and began to snore. “Pfft. All I have to offer is cold.” Fuck it. As tired as she was, and as out of it as Eobard was - there would surely be no harm in sleeping together. Facts were facts, Eobard was currently powerless or he was faking. In either case, his apparent inebriation had been flawlessly real. Maybe he’d found some really good drugs to help him get drunk? Stranger things had happened - King Shark; half man, half shark to name one such strange thing.

><><><><><

Several hours into the drive the next morning, the awkward silence between Frost and Eobard was lifted in the most unlikely of ways. A catchy tune on the radio got them humming along - and then eventually singing full blast with the music.

Obeying the unspoken offer to not talk about the previous night, Frost offered Eobard what she considered the premium choice from her bag of candy. “Hot tamale?”

Eobard made what could only be described as a grimace. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want a hot tamale? Candy?” Frost shook a handful of the small treats into her palm and offered them to Eobard. “Truce?”

“Oh...it’s candy.”

“Duh. What did you think I was gonna give you?”

“We took actual nourishment not even an hour ago.” He kept his eyes on the road, refusing to look away. “I don’t need anything extra.”

“Um, duh!” Frost wanted to snort but kept herself to a quiet eye-roll. “Nobody needs treats, but out of the goodness of my heart I’m willing to share.”

“Are we having this conversation now?” Eobard shook his head. “Maybe later.”

“Oh, there won’t be any available later.” Frost popped the candy into her mouth and chewed with gusto. Heaven would excuse her talking with a full mouth. “Screw you.”

Eobard took the high road and only thought of his response. You wish.

“Anyways, much like I said to Jimmy No-thumbs, I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Under advisement?” Despite his decision scant seconds ago to stop engaging with the bewildering woman, Eobard asked a question that would later haunt his dreams more than once. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, you’ve never run into Jimmy No-thumbs? Hah! He’s a goof.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He thought I was going to pay him back for his help - and unwanted help it was, from a bunch of other idiot thugs. Did you know he thought I needed rescuing?” Frost dumped another handful of candy into her mouth. “Hah! He’s lucky I didn’t castrate him.”

“Castrate?” Eobard asked despite knowing nothing good ever comes of a conversation that contains any mention of castration. “What did he do?”

“What did he do? Just keep making suggestions that I could clear things up by going on a date with him. I’d just ice him and get it over with but...well, he’s already got no thumbs so I’m not sure if that would be a mercy killing or not? Hm, then I thought I could freeze something else off as a discouragement.”

Eobard hoped like hell his shifting in his seat was not telegraphing how uncomfortable Eobard Junior was feeling.

Luckily, Frost kept up both sides of the conversation. “What do you think about making him Jimmy No-Di--"

"Don't even say it," Eobard said, wincing, “For the love of all things holy, don’t go there.”

“And that’s what he eventually said!” Frost concluded with extreme relish. “Don’t ever come near me again!” She giggled, slapped her knees and turned up the radio. “Of course, it was pretty hard to understand him, what with the crying and the snotty tears all over his face, but I’m sure he’ll never be able to harass another woman like what he did with me.”

><><><><

Frost took the opportunity of the coffee slash bathroom break to pull her itinerary from her jacket and check their progress against her map, hastily shoving it back after. Even with the unexpected extra person - or maybe because of her driving partner, she was on track; maybe even a little ahead of her schedule. She knew there were other things going on with Eobard. The man was known as the Reverse Flash, and as the most hated enemy of The Flash - it was beyond strange he was travelling by car. It seriously boggled the mind.

She held her hand over her heart and lifted her eyes to the heavens. Once a year she did her best to separate her naughty side from her previous existence. Once, she’d been a lawful member of society. Once, she’d been a member of a team that strived to bring down evil. All that was in the past - all but this small trip down memory lane. Frost let her shoulders relax, her head sinking to rest on her breast bone.

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath in, unconsciously lifting her head upright - held it and then breathed out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

“Ready?”

She clutched her chest. “HO-ly fucking shit, dude! Do I need to put a bell on you?”

“Not to be too trite, but chill, yeah?” Eobard laughed. “Get it?”

“Ha. Ha. You are soooo funny.” Frost pointed at Eobard’s empty hands. “Where’s my coffee?”

“Dunno, where’s my coffee?” He smirked; one eyebrow lifted and his eyes damn well sparkled. “Didn’t I buy you breakfast? It’s your turn to reciprocate.”

“Fancy words from a cheap, cheap man.” Rolling her eyes, Frost made a rude face. “You’re the one horning in on my vacation.” She fished out a wad of cash from her back jeans pocket and waved it under Eobard’s nose. “Hope the pot is bitter so it matches your attitude.”

“You wound me!” Eobard clasped his chest in mock horror. “Moi? Bitter? Haven’t we reached an accord?”

“Pfft. Maybe.” Frost sighed and sashayed into the trucker friendly diner attached to the gas station.

Eobard smiled and hurried into the vehicle Frost had jacked; well, she’d said she’d stolen it, but he’d seen the rental agreement - and if she’d boosted someone else’s rental - how was it she had the proper keys? Settling into the passenger seat, Eobard noticed the dwindling bag of candy at his feet. He picked it up, fastened his seatbelt and began rooting for what he considered acceptable sugar.

“Oi!” Frost thunked two coffees onto the roof of the car, yanked open the passenger door and grabbed hold of the wrist of the hand Eobard had inside the bag of candy. “Ah, that’s my stash and I don’t recall offering you anything!”

Amused, with a big grin on his face, Eobard spent a full minute looking back and forth from into Frost’s outraged eyes and where she held his wrist. “You offered earlier.”

“And you didn’t want any!” Frost frowned and considered stamping her feet. “It wasn’t good enough for you then, it’s not good enough for you now.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of people changing their minds?”

“You’re not most people.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Eobard’s smile grew wider, deepening the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “How about we replenish your candy the next change we get? I’ll buy you something that’s my favourite.”

Realizing she was losing this battle, Frost released her companion’s wrist. “It better be amazing.”

“You’ll be endlessly grateful.”

Frost scoffed her derision, her face actually looked sour. “Big words you got, this candy had better blow my mind.”

“It will, so get your ass in the car and let’s get going.”

Eobard laughed, narrowly avoiding getting slammed with the car door. Frost stomped to the driver’s side and after dropping the drinks, silently held out her hand for the car keys. Accepting them, she jammed the key into the ignition and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. Tight-lipped and scowling, she drove towards the next city on her itinerary; Garnet.

><><><><

“This place has everything you could ever want.”

“I don’t see any ponies.”

“What?” Eobard stepped closer to Frost and peered into her eyes. “I don’t see any dementia…”

She swatted his chest ineffectually. Well, even if he didn’t move back, his chest did feel pretty damn nice. Maybe later she’d get to grope him better; one could only hope. Or perhaps plan to get him drunk again… “I’m not crazy. I’ve always wanted a pony; you said this place has everything I could ever want.”

Eobard chuckled.

Damn. When Eobard grinned like that, he was even hotter and sexier than usual. Down girl!

He said, “Within reason, it goes without saying - usually.”

Wow. How was he managing to sound amused and sexy? Damn, damn, double damn! How long had it been since her last sexual escapade? Too fucking long, that’s what. Frost giggled.

“Do I amuse you? Am I a clown to you?” Eobard smiled to show he was joking and quoting from a movie. “How about we indulge?”

Frost mindlessly swallowed and licked her lips before common sense slapped her in the face. Eobard was talking about buying whatever candy they wanted - not an endorphin freeing sex romp. Fuck. She snorted. Not ever the right kind. “You’re paying.”

#snowellsweek2020 #road trip au #nalufever #chapter 2 #Happy Together #As You Wish #snowells #reversefrost

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