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hawkinspostbite · 2 years

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the car

words: 1,341

MASTERLIST tales from the great beyond

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

At the beginning of the month, Kate’s parents had bought her a refurbished 1970 Dodge Charger. And Billy was green with envy.

Sure, he loved his car. It was kickass. It made him a spectacle, got him tons of babes, and treated him well in many other ways. It wasn’t the kind of car Kate got, it could’ve been a thirty-year-old station wagon, and he still would’ve been jealous.

He was jealous because she didn’t have to put a cent towards it.

She woke up on the day of her driving exam, aced it, and that weekend she had a Charger sitting in the driveway, ready to be used.

Surely, it couldn’t have been cheap, as it was pushing sixteen years old, and it was spotless. Everything looked perfect, from the chrome on the rims, to the stitching on the upholstery, and the minor tinting on the windows.

Her parents even paid for the insurance, and gave her a gas allowance. And footed the bill for upkeep, which is why Billy jumped at the opportunity to change the oil in the car.

Kate had asked him to do it, one: because he needed the money and her parents would pay good; and two: because it would allow him to practice working on his future occupation.

Billy loved cars. And he couldn’t see himself going to school any further than high school, so he had decided that he was going to get into mechanical work. And maybe someday he could open up his own garage, provide for his family.

Do better than his dad did.

Kate’s plan however, was faulty.

“I’m gonna tell them I’m taking it to a garage, you can charge them whatever you want.” She had said, after explaining her genius plan to him.

That was pretty fool-proof. Kate’s parents didn’t give her the time of day on average, so if she presented them with a bill from a mechanic, they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

“You can just do it at the house.” She had shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “I mean, everyone knows we hang in the same group, so if you show up to change my oil, it won’t be that much of a shock.”

She also promised to make Steve swear he wouldn’t snitch about the whole “Billy disguising himself as the garage” bit.

Billy was not confident that Steve would hold up his end of the deal. However, Kate’s confidence in him was enough to make him say yes to the job.

So here he was, bright and early on a Saturday morning, laying underneath Kate’s car, on the freezing cold sidewalk outside of her house.

And changing the oil was already not going well.

For starters, he couldn’t get the cap off, so Kate spent five minutes searching through her father’s tools in the garage for a wrench.

Then, when Billy finally went to use the wrench to twist the cap off, it practically fell off, right onto his face. And in-turn, so did a steady stream of oil.

Kate rushed inside to grab old towels for him to clean up with, but by that time he was already ready to call it quits and go home. But nevertheless, he continued.

He emptied the rest of the old oil into the drip pan, and just as he was about to slide out from underneath the car and start replacing the oil, he realized Kate had bought the incorrect oil.

So Billy, very very begrudgingly, let Kate drive his car downtown to pick up the right oil. There was no way he was getting in his car covered in oil remnants, so he chose the lesser of two evils, which was letting her drive.

Billy sat with bated breath, inside the garage, trying to keep himself warm by the minuscule space heater, as he waited for her return.

After almost an hour, Kate finally came back, not only with oil, but an entire load of groceries.

Billy jumped up from the floor, feeling heat rise in his chest at the sight of her with her arms full of bags. “You got a whole grocery order Harrington?” He gawked, pointing at the bags in her arms. “Did you at least get the oil?”

She waved the sticky note he had written the correct oil on in her fingers. “Duh!” She snickered, pushing past him and dropping the oil at his feet.

“Well I just had to ask because it looks like you had other things on your mind.” He shook his head, grabbing the oil from the ground.

“When convenience strikes!” She replied, shrugging. “Let me know if you need more help, I’ll be inside.”

Billy rolled his eyes, venturing back out into the brisk air to finally finish the job he had started.

He went to work, pouring the new oil into the container and waiting for it to settle before testing the depth with the dipstick.

Unfortunately for him, when he pulled the dipstick back out, it was clean as could be. “What the fuck?” He practically screamed, confused and frustrated beyond belief.

Then it dawned on him.

Jaw clenched, he squatted down, noticing the oil pan underneath the car, full to the brim with oil.

He had forgotten to put the cap back on the oil container under the car.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He did scream this time, aggressively shoving the dipstick back into it’s hole.

Fuming, he stormed into the Harrington house, startling Kate as she was putting groceries away. “What the hell!” She gasped, hand over her heart.

“I forgot to put the cap back on under your car!” He shouted back, throwing it onto the island.

Kate frowned, looking between Billy and the cap. “So-“

“Where did you put my keys?” He snapped, cocking his head at her.

She pointed to the counter beside the sink. “Where are you going?”

Billy crossed the room, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’m going to buy another pint of oil, I’m gonna come back and change it, and then I’m going home, getting a shower and going to bed the rest of the day!”

Before Kate could even speak, Billy was gone.

The oil covering his body had mostly dried by the time he got into the car, and sped (like literally almost twenty miles over the speed limit.) downtown.

At Bradley’s Big Buy, he purchased two of the correct pints of oil, one extra for good measure.

He drove back to the Harrington house, and changed the oil, WITH the cap on the container this time, and almost didn’t go back inside to say goodbye when he was done.

Kate was sat on the couch in the living room, a mug of tea beside her and a movie playing on the television in front of her. She looked away from the screen, eyebrows raising at him. “You finished?” She asked.

Billy nodded, clenching his jaw. “Never ask me to do that again.” He huffed, walking over to the couch and plopping down beside her. “Is your brother home?”

Kate sighed, fighting with a torn edge of the blanket that was draped over her. “Upstairs.”

Billy wanted to scream even more. He had a hell of a morning, and all he wanted to do was spend some time with his girl to make himself feel better, but he couldn’t even do that.

He rolled his eyes. “Then I’d better go-“

“We can still hang tonight if you want.” Kate shrugged, grabbing onto his wrist.

Billy felt his heart soften a bit. “Course we can. I’ll pick you up, same time as usual, okay?” He whispered, standing up and bending down to be face-to-face with her.

“Same time as usual.” She replied, stretching upwards to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Billy relished in the feeling, as it was the only thing that would keep him from reaching his breaking point the rest of his day. Which was almost guaranteed, heading home to Neil.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things oc #billy hargrove #stranger things headcanons #billy hargrove imagine #kate update #st3 #harrington!oc

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flyhomebird · 1 year

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lovepurposed asked:

🫂 - Who are your top five (ten, twenty) favorite characters?

this is tough. real tough. i’m doing a mix of fiction (movies/novels/tv/etc) and actors because some actors are just too good in every role that they play. but i will list some of my absolute favorite roles they have done.

1. belle (beauty and the beast) 2. klaus mikaelson (vampire diaries) 3. wednesday addams (the addams family) 4. peter pan and wendy darling (j.m barrie novel, 2003 film) 5. the entire ‘pirates of the carribean’ cast (curse of the black pearl) 6. soldier boy (the boys) 7. dead pool (duh) 8. joker (the dark knight) 9. buckwheat and porky (the little rascals) 10. michael scott (the office) 11. zendaya (dune, the greatest showman, spiderman films) 12. robin williams (hook, jumanji, dead poet society) 13. daniel sharman (medici s2&3, the originals, fear the walking dead) 14. bill skarsgård (hemlock grove, it, barbarian) 15. jodi foster (bugsy malone, the silence of the lamb, taxi driver, panic room)

#lovepurposed #answered #<3 #ɴᴏ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴛɪʟʟ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋʟʏɴ ⥭ mun things #on a real though i could not wait to get home to fill this out but there are still so many people and characters i could throw on here

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inskz · 4 years

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lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse.

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence.

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them).

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you.

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now.

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago.

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh).

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him.

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen.

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff.

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it.

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups.

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything.

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas.

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly.

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil.

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear.

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch.

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little…

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter.

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered.

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask.

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain.

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in.

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt.

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately.

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget).

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground.

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you.

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch.

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy.

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials.

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter.

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview.

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes.

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can.

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today.

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso.

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling.

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue).

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you?

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time.

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall.

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next.

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right?

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should.

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball.

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves.

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious.

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in.

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start.

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours.

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil.

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - -

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him.

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross.

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning.

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes.

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it.

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe.

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars.

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate.

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?

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silylilboi · 3 years

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What I would do with the sides if I wrote them in different AUs

Or the sides (plus occasionally Remy, Emile, and Thomas) in different situations and other random things because I’m bored again.

Hamilton

Logan as Hamilton

Patton as Eliza

Roman as Angelica

Virgil as Laurens

Janus as Burr

Remus as Maria Reynolds

Thomas as Peggy

Remy as Mulligan

Emile as Lafayette

Harry Potter

Logan as Hermione

Patton as Ron/Neville

Roman as Harry/Fred or George

Virgil as Neville/Draco

Janus as Draco

Remus as Fred or George/Crabbe or Goyle

Remy as Lee

Emile as Cedric

Thomas as ??? (I have no idea. Let me know who you think he would be)

Gravity Falls

Logan as Dipper

Patton as Mable

Roman as Pacifica/Wendy/one of the two cops (idr their names)

Virgil as ??? (I couldn't think of someone)

Janus as Bill (duh. Basically the same person tbh)

Remus as Stan/Old Man McGucket (was that his name? It's been awhile since I've watched it. Sorry)

Remy as Wendy/Pacifica

Emile as Soos

Thomas as ??? (Couldn't think of one for him either)

Beauty and the Beast

Logan as Belle

Patton as Mrs. Potts/Maurice

Roman as Gaston

Virgil as Lefou

Janus as a mix of Lumier and Clogsworth

Remus as the Beast

Remy as ???

Emile as Maurice/Chip

Thomas as Chip

Aladdin

Logan as the sultan

Patton as Genie

Roman as Aladdin

Virgil as Jasmine

Janus as Jafar

Remus as Iago

Remy as Abu

Emile as Carpet

Thomas as ???

The Little Mermaid

Logan as Sebastian/Grimsby/King Triton

Patton as Ariel

Roman as one of the sisters/King Triton/Flottsum or Jettsum (how do you spell their names? One of the eels is what I'm talking about)

Virgil as Flounder

Janus as Eric

Remus as Chef Louis/Ursula/Scuttle/Flottsum or Jettsum

Remy as Ursula/Flottsum or Jettsum

Emile as Max(?)(I don't really know)

Thomas as King Triton

Princess and the Frog

Logan as Tiana/Evangeline

Patton as Ray/Louis

Roman as Naveen/Lottie/Louis

Virgil as Tiana

Janus as Dr. Facilier

Remus as Lawrence

Remy as Lottie/Naveen

Emile as Mama Odie/Ray

Thomas as Louis/Lottie's Dad

Cinderella

Logan as Lady Tremaine/Prince Charming/the king/the royal advisor

Patton as Cinderella/the king/Gus Gus

Roman as one of the step sisters/Prince Charming/Fairy Godmother/Jacque

Virgil as Fairy Godmother/the royal advisor

Janus as Lady Tremaine

Remus as one of the step sisters

Remy as one of the step sisters

Emile as Cinderella/the king/Gus Gus

Thomas as the king/Jacque/Gus Gus

My Little Pony

Logan as Twilight Sparkle

Patton as Pinky Pie/Fluttershy

Roman as Rarity/Rainbow Dash

Virgil as Fluttershy

Janus as ???

Remus as ???

Remy as Rarity

Emile as Fluttershy/AppleJack

Thomas as Spike

Hogwarts Houses (where I would place everyone)

Logan in Ravenclaw/Gryffindor

Patton in Hufflepuff/Gryffindor

Roman in Gryffindor/Slytherin

Virgil in Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw

Janus is Slytherin/Ravenclaw

Remus in Gryffindor

Remy in Gryffindor/Slytherin

Emile in Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw

Thomas in Hufflepuff

Which country they would be from (if they weren't from the US)

Logan from France

Patton from Australia (just a slight accent though. Just enough to tell where he is from. And no, he does not kill the freakishly large spiders there. And yes, he does still hate spiders.)

Roman from Spain/Mexico

Virgil from Scotland/Ireland

Janus from France/the UK

Remus from Germany

Remy from Brazil

Emile from Italy

Thomas from Italy/Brazil

Highschool Cliques

Logan as a nerd

Patton as one of the nice, lesser known popular kids/theatre kids

Roman as a theatre kid/jock

Virgil as one of the loners

Janus as a loner/popular/smart kids

Remus as a theatre kid/jock

Remy as a popular kid

Emile as one of the nice,lesser known popular kids

Thomas as a theatre kid

What everyone's sexuality/gender identity would be in a human AU

Logan would be a biromantic Demisexual male, he/him

Patton would be a pansexual male, he/him

Roman would be a gay trans male, he/him

Virgil would be a Non-binary bisexual, they/them

Janus would be a gender fluid bisexual, any pronouns

Remus would be a gay trans male, he/him

Remy would be an omnisexual male, he/him

Emile would be a pan romantic gender fluid, pronouns depend on the day

Thomas would be a gay male, he/him pronouns

Which store they would go to in the mall

Logan would go to the mall just to keep an eye on the others

Patton would go to Box Lunch/Old Navy/Bath & Body Works/Build-a-Bear

Roman would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear

Virgil would go to Hot Topic

Janus would go to Spencers/Hot Topic

Remus would go to Spencers

Remy would go to Starbucks

Emile would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear/Bath & Body Works

Thomas would go to Box Lunch/Build-a-Bear

Dr. Dolittle (the one with RDJ)

Logan as Dr. Dolittle

Patton as Lily Dolittle

Roman as Lady Rose

Virgil as Stubbins (there's just a lot of parallels between Stubbins' arc in the movie and Virgil being accepted as a light side in the series)

Janus as Lord Badgely

Remus as Müdfly

Jurassic World, including other movies (both people/dinosaurs)

Logan as Dr. Wu/Claire/Blue

Patton as Grey (I think that’s how his name is spelled)/ankylosaurus

Roman as Owen/T-Rex

Virgil as Zach/Delta(smart but also the first one to die)

Janus as Dr. Wu/the main bad guy from the second movie(can't remember his name for the life of me)/Indoraptor

Remus as Hoskins/Allosaurus(mainly for the split second it get hit in the face with a boulder)

Big Hero Six

Logan as Tadashi

Patton as Honey Lemon/Callahan(if I do write this AU he would be the villain)

Roman as Wasabi

Virgil as Go-Go

Janus as Hiro

Remus as Fred

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Logan as one of the gargoyles

Patton as one of the gargoyles

Roman as Phoebus

Virgil as Esmerelda

Janus as Quasimodo

Remus as the jester who tells the story(and maybe as Frollo? I don't really know)

#patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #random #head canon #alternate universe #sanders sides #i still don’t know how to tag #please help

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breaniebree · 3 years

Text

A Second Chance

For those who have been asking... this is my master list once more:

ASC Chapter Titles as If They Were Friends Episodes

Part One: Harry’s First Year With His Dads (Chapters 1-49)

1. The One Where They Were Dead 2. The One Where the Rat Is Out of the Bag 3. The One Where James and Lily Die 4. The One Where Moony and Padfoot Make Up 5. The One Where Harry Meets Padfoot 6. The One Where Sirius Kidnaps Harry 7. The One Where Sirius Punches Vernon Dursley 8. The One Where Harry Meets Remus 9. The One Where Sirius and Harry Make Grilled Cheese 10. The One With Thea 11. The One Where Harry Asks What a Kiss Is 12. The One With the Library Card 13. The One Where They Remember the Past 14. The One With the Tonkses’ 15. The One With Harry’s First Nightmare 16. The One With Professor Moony 17. The One With The Puppy 18. The One With the Second Best Day Ever 19. The One Where Harry Meets An Excellent Secret Keeper and Her Brother 20. The One Where Sirius Learns What He Missed in Azkaban 21. The One With the Brownies 22. The One With the Date 23. The One With the Weasleys 24. The One With the Bad Dreams 25. The One Where Sirius Learns the Key to Moony's Secret Pranking Success 26. The One With Operation Prank the Piss Out of Harry Potter 27. The One With the Wolfsbane Fight 28. The One Where the Marauders Discover A Wolf 29. The One With the Spanking 30. The One With the House Rules and Where Sirius and Ted Build a Treehouse 31. The One With the Wolf 32. The One Where Remus Tells Sirius To Deal with the Blacks 33. The One Where Harry Asks About Boobies 34. The One With the Locket 35. The One With Blackbird 36. The One With the Birthday Orgasms 37. The One With the Three Brothers 38. The One With Godric’s Hollow 39. The One Where Sirius Speaks French 40. The One With the First Christmas 41. The One With the Pensieve 42. The One With the Memories Part I 43. The One With the Memories Part II 44. The One When Padfoot and Prongs Become Blood Brothers 45. The One Where Harry Has A Sleepover 46. The One With the Tickle War 47. The One With the Viscount of Falmouth 48. The One With Roni 49. The One With the Birthday Planning

Part Two: Harry Growing Up With A Family, Ages 7-11 (Chapters 50-61)

50. The One With the Best Birthday Ever 51. The One Where Padfoot and Moony Know Nothing About Sick Kids 52. The One Where Remus Slaps Sirius 53. The One With the Giant Cheese Fort 54. The One With Operation Get Lily Evans to Fall in Love With Prongs 55. The One Where Remus Thinks He’s a Very Bad Man 56. The One Where Harry Asks About Sex 57. The One Where Tonks Turns 17 58. The One Where Remus Feels Like He’s Robbing the Cradle 59. The One Where Remus Learns He Has A Mate 60. The One Where Sirius Shags the Realtor 61. The One With the Letter

Part Three: First Year (Chapters 62-73)

62. The One Where Harry Gets Hedwig 63. The One Where Harry Understands the Fear of Voldemort 64. The One With The Sorting 65. The One Where Sirius Was Almost Bitten By a Panther… And Totally Didn’t Pee His Pants 66. The One With the Youngest Seeker In Over a Century 67. The One With the Three-Headed Dog 68. The One With Zee 69. The One With Sheer Dumb Luck 70. The One Where Sirius Lets Zee Drive His Bike 71. The One Where the Weasley Boys Come Over for Christmas 72. The One Where Minnie Tells Sirius To Get A Job 73. The One Where No One Listens So Harry Has to Do Everything and His Friends Follow Him So He Doesn't Die

Part Four: Second Year (Chapters 74-105)

74. The One Where the Whole School Knows 75. The One Where Harry is Jealous 76. The One Where Sirius Eats Crow 77. The One Where Zee Meets Minnie 78. The One With the Proud Enough to Cry Letter 79. The One Where They Realize Their New Professor is a Moron 80. The One Where Remus Gets His Shit Together 81. The One Where Harry Meets His Fanboy 82. The One Where Binns Doesn’t Put His Class to Sleep For Almost Ten Whole Minutes 83. The One Where Sirius Finds Out 84. The One When Remus Punches Lockhart 85. The One With the Mad House Elf 86. The One With the Great Shoebox Capture 87. The One Where Sirius Tells Zee About the Marauders 88. The One Where Harry is Homesick 89. The One Where Sirius Says I Love You 90. The One With the Sex Talk 91. The One With Ted Walking in on Remus Fingering Tonks… And Remus Adds Another Finger 92. The One Where Draco Comes to Christmas 93. The One Where Sirius Actually Gets a Job 94. The One Where Sirius Asks About Cursed Scars 95. The One Where Remus Tells Tonks and She says ‘Duh!’ 96. The One Where Fred Hears the Name Padfoot 97. The One With Peter’s Trial Part I 98. The One With Peter’s Trial Part II 99. The One Where Ginny Tells Harry She Has A Pen-Pal 100. The One With the Eyes As Green As a Fresh Pickled Toad 101. The One Where Tonks Is Under the Desk 102. The One Where Harry Writes in the Diary 103. The One Where It’s Not Follow the Butterflies 104. The One Where Sirius Is Sent Home Without An Explanation 105. The One Where Ginny is Scared Harry Will Never Speak To Her Again

Part Five: Third Year (Chapters 106-143)

106. The One Where Sirius and Remus Demand Answers 107. The One With Prophecies and Horcruxes 108. The One Where Harry Learns to Drive 109. The One Where Bill and Charlie Talk About the Importance of Being A Good Big Brother 110. The One Where Sirius Realizes He Wants Zee Forever But Is Too Chicken To Say It 111. The One With Operation Fuck Up Voldemort’s Plans 112. The One Where Cissy Tattles on Abraxas 113. The One Where Harry Sees More Than He Should Between His Roommates 114. The One Where Colin Tells Ginny To Get Over It 115. The One Where Theo Comes Out 116. The One Where Sirius Tells Lucius If He Fucks Up He Will Kill Him 117. The One With the FUVP Pow-Wow 118. The One Where They Return to the Chamber of Secrets 119. The One Where Harry Finds Out 120. The One Where the Marauders Prank Snape 121. The One Where Draco and Theo Make Bad Detectives 122. The One With Nyx 123. The One Where Harry Throws a Tantrum 124. The One Where They Skive Off Class Because Harry Talks 125. The One Where Harry Asks Out Cho 126. The One With Harry’s First Date 127. The One Where Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore Fuck Up 128. The One With Moody 129. The One Where Harry Gets Slapped 130. The One Where Sirius and Tonks Decide To Fuck With Snape 131. The One With Lily’s Ghost 132. The One With the Gaunt Property 133. The One With the Defence Club 134. The One With the Wizengamot 135. The One Where Harry Meets the Americans 136. The One Where They Forget to Tell Sirius 137. The One With the Insomniacs Club 138. The One Where Bellatrix Shows Up 139. The One With the Time Turner 140. The One With Umbitch's Creepy Song 141. The One With the Wolf in the Cage 142. The One Where Harry Shouts at Sirius and He Just Shouts Right Back 143. The One Where Both of Them Feel Like Shit

Part Six: Fourth Year (Chapters 144-179)

144. The One With the Elder Wand 145. The One Where Sirius Tells Harry Not to Drink 146. The One Where Sirius Acts the Adult and Tells the Grangers 147. The One Where They Drink the Potion 148. The One Where Harry Can’t Change His Arm Back 149. The One Where Ginny Sees Harry Naked 150. The One When Harry Calls Remus a Bad Dog 151. The One Where Theo Goes to the Burrow 152. The One Where Harry Has a Fling 153. The One Where Sirius Panics Over Commitment 154. The One Where Zee Takes Harry Shopping 155. The One With the Quidditch World Cup 156. The One With Winky 157. The One With Babymort 158. The One Where Sirius Asks Zee to Move In 159. The One Where Snape Apologizes and Harry Thinks The World Ended 160. The One With the Pretty Boy, the Biggest Flirt, and the Flying House 161. The One Where Tonks Wants A Boob Job 162. The One Where Drama Queen Sirius Learns About Pens 163. The One Where Zee Just Wants A Damn Telephone But Sirius Can’t Stop Bitching 164. The One Where Girls Giggle and Ginny Looks Different 165. The One Where Harry Outflies a Dragon… Almost 166. The One Where Zee Tells The Paper to Back the Fuck Away from Her Son 167. The One Where Harry Thinks It’s the Formal Wear 168. The One Where Mr Weasley Thinks ‘Oh, Bloody Hell!' 169. The One Where Sirius Takes A Bath 170. The One Where Harry’s in Denial 171. The One Where Harry Thinks He Has Two Hostages 172. The One With the Love Potion 173. The One Where Zee Seduces Sirius in the Work Shed 174. The One With the Secret Swimming Pool 175. The One With the Bats From the Crotch 176. The One That Ends With ‘Oh Shit!’ 177. The One Where Everyone Dies 178. The One With the Lullabye 179. The One Where Tonks Marks Remus

Part Seven: Fifth Year (Chapters 180-222)

180. The One Where Remus Proposes 181. The One Where Lucius Gets Arrested 182. The One Where Remus Proposes Again and Harry Dies 183. The One With the Coconut Smell 184. The One Where Tonks Isn’t Pregnant 185. The One Where Dean Realizes He Fancies Seamus 186. The One With Baby, I Love You 187. The One Where Theo Meets Voldemort 188. The One Where Harry Calls Ginny His and Then Denies It 189. The One Where Everyone Breaks Out of Azkaban 190. The One With the War Council 191. The One Where Harry is Dumped 192. The One Where They Discuss The Size of Remus’ Package 193. The One Where Harry Learns About the Potters 194. The One Where Harry Finds the Tower Room 195. The One Where Zee’s in France 196. The One Where Harry Gets Constantly Interrupted 197. The One Where the Glacier Finally Melts 198. The One Where Harry Finally Asks 199. The One Where Sirius Cuddles and Zee Buys A Motorbike 200. The One Where Everyone Is Worried About Theo 201. The One With the Frying Pan 202. The One With the Fluke 203. The One Where Minnie Walks In 204. The One Where Remus Finds A Present Under the Tree 205. The One With Bellarosa and the Snake 206. The One Where Everyone Gets Motorbikes 207. The One Where Padfoot Suggests Pranking Umbitch to Fred and George 208. The One With the Great Escape from Umbitch 209. The One With Prince Finley and the Switching of Teacups 210. The One Where Theo is Courted and Dean Admits He's in Love 211. The One Where Hinny Says I Love You and the Fluke Continues 212. The One Where Sirius Picks Out A Star 213. The One With the Cathedral Star 214. The One Where Sirius Answers the Phone 215. The One Where George Gets the Girl 216. The One Where They Compare Proposals 217. The One Where Sirius Has the Man-Flu and Gives it to Zee 218. The One Where Ginny and Theo Are Kidnapped and Remus Hears Heartbeats 219. The One With the Thing After Learning the Thing 220. The One Where Everyone is in Shock 221. The One Where Zee Confirms 222. The One With the Will

Part Eight: Sixth Year (Chapters 223-Present)

223. The One Where Remus Finally Lets Go 224. The One Where Hermione is Blind But Her Mum Isn’t 225. The One Where the Dragon’s in Trouble and George Snogs the New Bat 226. The One Where Ginny Tames Ebony and Theo Goes to Tara 227. The One With the Sovereign Chalice and Zee’s Dream 228. The One With the Party 229. The One Where Ginny Claims Her Man 230. The One Where Harry Has a Really Great Birthday 231. The One Where Harry Asks Remus For Sex Advice 232. The One With the Surfing 233. The One Where Harry Buys a Pgymy Puff 234. The One With the Naughty Dream 235. The One Where Harry’s Afraid of Grandpa 236. The One With the Race 237. The One Where Ron and Hermione Almost Fluke 238. The One Where Bill Gets a Headache 239. The One With Compass and Bad Puns 240. The One Where Harry Uses Parseltongue For Something New 241. The One Where Slughorn Is An Armchair 242. The One Where Its All Fluff 243. The One Where Draco Calls Blaise A Stupid Son of a Bitch 244. The One With the Patronus and the Lingerie 245. The One With Advanced Potion Making and World War One 246. The One With Luna’s Question 247. The One With All the Smut and Where Ron and Hermione Fluke Again 248. The One Where Minnie Freaks Out on Walburga 249. The One With the Fruit Basket 250. The One Where Percy Gets a Date and Remus Skives Off Work 251. The One With the Iron Blade 252. The One Where the Fairytale Ends 253. The One With the Golden Dagger 254. The One With Charlie’s Surprise 255. The One With The Bet 256. The One Where They Celebrate Christmas Without Sirius 257. The One With the Tantrum About Heels 258. The One Where Lucius Fucks Up 259. The One Where Tonks Plays Bad Auror 260. The One With the Goblin Potato 261. The One Where Fred is Scarred for Life 262. The One Where We Hear From Althea 263. The One Where Harry Is Told He Owes Theo A Fruit Basket 264. The One Where Neville Plants A Tree

#harry potter fanfic #a second chance by breanie

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xxgothchatonxx · 3 years

Text

So... I’ve worked out what’s been irritating me about Clarice (CBS).

I think their version of Clarice Starling is fantastic. I was so worried that they would screw her up, turn her into a Strong Woman (you know the type - boring, emotionless, but she pulls out a gun and monotone-yells, therefore she’s an Interesting Character?) and just spit on her legacy. They didn’t do that.

I look at Rebecca Breeds and I see Clarice Starling. I don’t think of Jodie Foster (or Julianne Moore) when I watch her performance, which is quite the achievement. I think she is perfectly cast, I’ve seen interviews where it’s clear she loves Clarice as much as we do. She is doing a fantastic job.

But Clarice Starling does not belong in a show like this.

Look, I thought the critics were just being critics but they’re right. Clarice is a standard police procedural crime drama. The only difference is, they keep saying “Starling”, “Catherine Martin” and “Buffalo Bill”. That’s the only connection this show has to SOTL. There is too much going on, the characters are really poorly developed (*glares at Esquivel*), and the pacing is so frantic, that when it does stop to give character development, I’m too exhausted watching everything else that I can’t really process everything.

“You just want her to be in Hannibal-” (well, duh!) no, I want her to be in a focused show!

I am going to continue to watch this show, because some of the numerous subplots are interesting enough for me to want to see how they pan out. But every time I watch Clarice (CBS) all I can think of is “she shouldn’t be here! She deserves better than this!”

So, to sum up - the writing for Clarice Starling as a character is... well I believe that she is Clarice Starling. The show in general? Unfortunately it’s not nearly as original and unique as it thinks it is.

#cbs clarice #clarice starling

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rpsocsandcanonohmy · 3 years

Text

A Fighting Chance

Note: This is part of an ongoing story that can be read on AO3 here. Reading previous installments is reccomended for context purposes but is not required. Posted here for Whumptober 2021 @whumptober-archive

Day 6: Bruises

-------- The next day, Lori was tasked with helping Abilene around the house. Despite the size of the house and how many people trekked through it on any given day, very little of the work centered around cleaning. No, today, Lori was going to be testing her patience with cooking and food prep.

Lori knew how to cook. In theory. She knew how to use an oven (electric, gas, and the occasional wood-burner). She knew how to heat up something in a pan or a pot. She could even make a few things from scratch, assuming she had the ingredients handy, mostly eggs and pasta.

Food prepping for a ranch was a much different story.

There was no experimenting to see if the temperature dial was accurate. There was no obsessively checking the clock in lieu of a timer. There was no double-checking the instructions written on the box.

Nope. Abby’s kitchen was run with fresh ingredients that were either being prepped for a later meal or being used in a current one. Abby had (semi-correctly) assumed Lori didn’t have much experience with cooking like this and just put her in charge of cutting vegetables or stirring sauces. Technically she was also a Taste Tester but that seemed more like an honorary title than a useful role.

She was chopping some apples under Abby’s not-so-subtle watch when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she said, leaving Lori to her chopping. A few moments later, she heard giggling and the sound of loud footsteps coming near the kitchn. “Oh, Cordi’ll be so happy to see you! It’s been ages… Oh, Lori! Hoyt, this is Lori. She’s one of Stella’s friends from school; her dad’s out of town so she’s staying with us for a while.”

Lori smiled softly and waved. “Hi….”

“Howdy.”

Abby snorted and gently pet Lori’s back. “I’m gonna go check on Bonham and Liam. Will you two be alright alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

She turned back to her chopping. Hoyt came around the counter and grabbed a few pears to chop with her.

“So,” he started. “What happened?”

“Pardon?”

Hoyt chuckled. “You’re at home for the day on a school day, you’re working in the kitchen instead of being sick in bed, and I noticed that bandage. Something happened.”

Well. That was her caught. Lori shrugged, clearing away some apple chunks to make room for the next one. “I got into a fight. Some girl was being a bitch to Stella and August so I broke her nose.” There was no point in lying; it’d probably just come out later anyway.

“I can respect that,” Hoyt said. “Sounds like the kind of stuff I used to get into back in those days.”

Lori nodded, focusing on her chopping.

“You’re a good friend. Stella’s lucky she found you.”

She liked the way he said that, like she wasn’t some lucky charity case that got picked up out of pity. That didn’t make it any (potentially) less true, but still. Lori wondered if he had his own experience in a situation like that.

-----------

Lunch was miraculously uneventful. Hoyt didn't even ask her about why Liam was being careful around her, course he was likely too busy telling wild stories about whatever mess he’d gotten involved in while he was away. She was just glad not to be the topic of conversation at a meal for once.

She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket while she was putting away the last of the dishes. Checking to make sure no one was paying attention to her, Lori ducked into the next room and pulled out her phone. The text was from an unknown number, but she knew who it was. Only one person would text her out of the blue like this without an introduction.

[Text from: Unknown]: Hey boo. You still in Austin? There’s a tourney starting next week and I’d love to put your name in the ring. Withdrew your entry fee from my bank account today xo

[Text to: Unknown]: Hey. Yeah, I am. I’m not sure if I can compete though; I’m under a little surveillance atm

[Text from: Unknown]: When has that ever stopped you before lol xo

[Text to: Unknown]: It’s different

[Text from: Unknown]: Come onnnnnnn

[Text from: Unknown]: It’s a massive payout. Big city, big names, big tournament. It’s all monsters right now though. They’ll flip if they get a hunter in. Massive bucks sweetie

[Text to: Unknown]: There’s always a massive payout

[Text from: Unknown]: Not like this. We’re talking almost 5 digits if you make it to the top

Okay, that was impressive. It would definitely come in handy when she met up with Dad again. They would definitely need the cash even if she didn’t have to pay bail this time.

[Text to: Unknown]: You know me so well

[Text from: Unknown]: Is that a yes?

[Text to: Unknown]: Duh

[Text to: Unknown]: Just get me the time and place

[Text from: Unknown]: I knew I could count on you xo

[Text from: Unknown]: I’ll get you the deets. Meet me in the locker room and we’ll discuss my cut

She wanted to respond but the number was blocked. Of course it was. That was how he operated. She’d never get used to that. He’d get her the address later, probably through email, and they’d just go from there. Like they always did.

All Lori had to do now was figure out how to sneak out….

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

One day, Lori was going to suggest the Walkers invest in a security system that wasn’t accessible through a smart device. She’d have to figure out how to bring that up without mentioning she’d been able to bypass the alarms on Cordell’s phone with relative ease first though.

Regardless, she was out and headed for her destination. Why are these things always held in the most out of the way place possible? she thought as she entered the abandoned warehouse. She worked her way through the crowd, holding her duffle bag with her gear close to her chest, and headed for the locker room area. Once she was there, she got dressed and checked her first aid supply while she waited

“I was afraid you might back out,” came the all too familiar voice.

“Like I’d ever squelch on a deal with you,” Lori replied with a grin. She turned around and there he was, standing uncomfortably close as usual. “How’s the crowd looking?”

Darian grinned. “Very good turnout. I worked the room a bit, lot of people looking forward to seeing you in the cage. And, get this, they put you against a Were for your first fight!”

Of course they did. Hunter v. Monster fights drew a crowd as it was. Pitting a Hunter against their Thing? Pure gold. “Do you know anything about them?”

He shrugged. “Just that he’s a small thing with a big temper. It’s not his first rodeo but he’s not as well known as you. A lot of people are betting on you to win.”

“I take it you tossed your hat into that ring too?”

Darian smirked. “Always. Don’t worry, you’ll get your cut of that once you get to the top.”

Classic Darian, working all the possible angles. He was a smart guy, for a shapeshifter. She was about to respond when the fighting bell rang and her name was called over the loudspeakers.

“Showtime, babygirl. Make me proud!” Darian waved her off as she headed for the arena.

Lori took a deep breath and her mind cleared as she entered the cage. The crowd roared and she let it all wash over her. The sounds, the lights, the smells, everything. This was it. In here, she wasn’t a pitiable soul taken in by a friend. She wasn’t a reminder of her mother. She wasn’t a forgotten soul in the wasteland of The System. Here, she was Lori fucking Graves, one of the best fighters in the ring and the youngest hunter in the system. She was a badass, an icon, the love-to-hate-em fave. And she owned it.

The bell rang and the fight was on. Werewolves were tricky because of their claws and teeth, especially when she didn’t have a weapon of her own. But she’d been in worse situations before. A swift kick to the nuts took him to his knees and gave her the chance to land a few solid punches to his face before he got back up. A part of her couldn’t wait to see the bruises later. The larger part of her was regretting she couldn't run away faster when he lifted her above his head and threw her at the chain-link wall. That was going to smart later. But she could handle it.

Punch, kick, jab, punch, dodge, swerve, punchkickjabdodgepunchkickswerve and on it and on it went. Once she got into a rhythm, she could work off muscle memory and fall into a state of near zen. This is why she loved the fights. This is why she’d never walk away. This is why the payout was always worth it. This is why working around the bruises and scrapes would always be worth it, no matter who she was with.

It felt glorious.

Her opponent was tiring out and she took advantage of that to elbow him in the face and knock him to the ground with a kick to the shin. She pinned him down and spit in his face while the ref counted her.

She won.

She was bloody and bruising and she was definitely sleeping in tomorrow.

But she won.

“Excellent work, darling.” Darian smiled proudly and gently clapped her on the shoulder as she stepped out the ring. “Payout for tonight is $915. Well, minus my cut, of course….” He handed Lori the cash and she stuffed it in her bag.

“Thanks. When’s the next one?”

“They’re gonna finish out the first round over the next couple days. I’ll text you the morning of so you have time to figure out your excuses.”

Lori shouldered her duffle bag and made her way to the back exit. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”

It was a long walk back home, but the bills she counted later were more than worth it. She just had to figure out how she was going to hide the evidence from the rest of the house…..

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #bruises #walker #oc #fic #cage fights #secrets #shady deals #shapeshifter

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neo-culture-mafia · 4 years

Text

puzzle piece (l.dh) + (n.jm)

“What do you mean by, ‘Don’t be pissed.’?! You decide to eat my ramen and fake your death for 2 years?!” This wasn’t real. Hyuck stood in front of one of his best friends, Na Jaemin. Or an alternative name, ‘Missing Dumbass’. “What can I say, I knew you would remember me if I left with something of yours.” Jae smiled with a shrug of his shoulders as he opened his friend’s fridge.

“I mean. Duh. Welcome back and all but why is the first thing you properly greet, the ‘fridge’?” Hyuck asked as he walked over and tried closing the door that hid all of his treasure: food. “You literally just scolded me like a child and you’re mad at ME for not giving you a nice warm hug?!” Jaemin’s words bounced off of deaf ears. “and for your information, Donghyuck-ah...I’m hungry?” Jaemin looked puzzled as he started to raid the cabinets. “It’s 4 AM.” “I haven’t eaten yet.” Jaemin was now being chased by Hyuck around the small kitchen.

Jaemin made a game as he opened a cabinet to have Hyuck close it right after. Another one. Another. Another. “Want me to be a mother? I will get my belt in a seco- put my spatula down!”

No one knew this was coming, honestly. Donghyuck had gotten comfortable in his onsie and already logged out of his games, getting ready for a nice long sleep. Then...banging.

“I swear to God, Renjun. If you make me check under your bed one more ti-” Then he was met face to face with...a face he once knew very well. A blue mop of hair laid on top of the boy’s head. A jersey thrown on top of a dark hoodie with baggy jeans and skate shoes. Definitely not what Hyuck imagined Jaemin looking like after going missing for 2 years.

“Uh.” Hyuck stalled, the hall light dimmed for the rest of the world who was asleep. “You got food?” Jae pushed past him and directly to the kitchen, not even bothering to take his shoes off. “Bread or something?” “Hello?” Jaemin acted so normal in the most abnormal situation.

“Where the hell have you been?” Hyuck looked at the time, 3:52 AM blinked on the oven. “The club. Sorry to worry you, Mom.” Jae started to get a pan out and filled it with water. “Where do you keep the noodles?” He started opening the cabinets and drawers restlessly. “I’m out...Going to pick up more later- Are you drunk?” “No. Do you have anything?” “Not really.” Jae just stood in the middle of the small kitchen to throw his head up to the ceiling and whine.

“I can go run to the store if you need me to.” Hyuck grabbed his keys that laid on the counter top. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” “No you’re not. You show up with BLUE hair and you tell me, ‘I’m fine.’?” Hyuck stood with one hand on his hip, the other pointing to his taller friend.

Jaemin just looked around. “And don’t forget how pissed I am about what you did before you decided to run off and be little mr. independent.” Donghyuck’s nagging had definitely developed after not hearing it for the past years. “Ew. You’re turning into me, stop.” “Well someone had to hold it together for the kids.” An eye roll was earned from Jaemin.

“Everyday Jaemin. I pay the bills, I do the grocery shopping, teaching my classes to come home to dishes overflowing from the sink and the chicken hasn’t been thawed...the rice hasn’t been washed. I drive Jisung to school-” “His classes are across the street from his apartment-” “Don’t patronize me.” Donghyuck slapped the top of his friend’s head, a finger pointed in the hungry boy’s face.

“Don’t be pissed.” Jae pushed his friend’s finger out of his face. That was the last straw.

“Which one?” Donghyuck asked as he watched Jaemin scan the options of instant meals from the 7-11 shelves. “Oooo. This one.” He picked up a nice-looking meal and automatically took off towards the ice cream. He grabbed an arm full as Hyuck could physically hear his wallet weep.

“Anything else?” He asked out of politeness. “Yeah. You get something.” Jaemin motioned to the whole store with a flick of his head. “No thanks. I’m not really in the mood to eat.” Hyuck shook his head as he walked closer to the check-out. The grumbling in his stomach made him bite his inner lip.

Jaemin let all of the merchandise fall onto the counter without a care as a candy bar was added to the top. “Is this all?” The cashier asked the man in the onsie with a wallet in the line of vision. Donghyuck nodded with a small sigh as he saw the total a couple dollars under his current life-savings.

He didn’t think. Just swiped.

Jaemin walked out happily munching on a random ice cream. “Are you sure you don't want one?” He asked as he held the bag up to his friend’s face. Hyuck could only shake his head no as they made the walk back to the apartment.

“Thank you for paying.” Jaemin minded his manners and it fell onto deaf ears again.

The rest of the walk was silent as the early morning air nipped at both of their cheeks.

Jae made himself at home on the couch as Donghyuck locked the door. He walked in to see Jae with his feet up and TV remote in hand. “I’m going to get ready.” Hyuck sighed as he walked into his bedroom.

He began changing when he heard the front door open. In panic, he raced out of the room to see if Jaemin was still here. He was, but now a shocked and semi-petrified Jisung stood in the entry way.

“Jae-Jaemin?” Jisung asked and Jaemin looked over to see Hyuck too tired for any of this. “I’m the ghost of Jaemin.” Jae moved his hands in a weird way which had Jisung reeling towards him to pull his hair.

“Ow.” “You are real!” Jisung shouted which made a shrill of pain go through Hyuck’s brain.

“And I’m going to finish getting ready.” Donghyuck removed himself to finish preparing himself for the day. A fatigued headache made home in his head as he grabbed his glasses and empty wallet.

“Can we go to 7-11 for breakfast?” Jisung asked and Hyuck wanted to scream. “I don’t think that’s an option for today, Jwi.” He patted the taller boy’s back. Jisung nodded and grabbed his bag. “Are you still going to be here when I get back?” The youngest boy’s eyes could make anyone cry but the question just hit a little too hard.

“Uh.” Jaemin looked down to his lap. “Yeah.” His smile was faltering but it seemed somewhat genuine. Jisung didn’t know better and walked out of the door to go to school. Donghyuck followed but made sure to look at his close friend on the couch.

“We want you back around. But, if you don’t think it’s time yet. The door is where you left it.” And with that, he was driving Jisung to school.

“Today...” Donghyuck looked out into the eyes of his students. “I have to grade. So you are dismissed.” The students jumped up and ran out of the classroom in a cheer. The fact is that Hyuck hadn’t gotten sleep in 48 hours and he was sparking. He had settled down to TRY and grade but found himself slipping.

He picked up his pen and started reading over the papers with ease.

What were you thinking?

Do you even take my class?

“Donghyuck-ah.” Next thing you know, Hyuck actually woke up and looked down to see the papers un-graded. Taeyong and Mark stood before him and he quickly rose to his feet to bow. “I apologize for falling asleep.” “No matter to that now. We have a problem.” Mark spoke and Hyuck thought his heart skipped a beat.

“Follow us.”

He didn’t miss a beat as he followed his leaders down the hall of the academic buildings. Things were quiet...almost too quiet.

He was just here...why did he leave again?

LEE DONGHYUCK - “Haechan” 35.1796° N, 129.0756° E MISSION TITLE: Retrieval POSITION: Shooter ; Post ; Retrieving Party

Jaemin had run off again. The Junior Forces felt different again. It only felt normal for a day then...hurting replaced the feeling of being complete once again. “I miss Jaemin.” Jisung muttered as he sat in-between Chenle and Hyuck. “We’re going to get him back. Don’t worry.” Chenle tried his best to comfort his friend.

Yet, Hyuck was trying not to pass out in the seat. Tiredness turned into sickness. Hungry and cold as the glass holding his head up kept rattling.

I didn’t mean for him to leave again

Mark pulled up to the coordinates and Donghyuck was the first to get out. It’s not that he cared the most...he felt like he was obligated to bring back his brother. It wasn’t the same without him.

Everyone was shocked to see that they were at cliffs that overlooked the sea. Just grass...grass...edge.

They all looked at each other before slowly stalking towards the side of the drop-off. They looked down to see Jaemin laying on a lower ledge. Hands under his head and his feet swinging to the beat of the music coming out of his phone.

“Ja-” Jisung was cut off by Jeno throwing a hand over his mouth. “Don’t scare him off.” Jeno warned and the younger stayed quiet. Tear streaks illuminated Jaemin’s face as the sun was beginning to make way for the moon.

“I got this.” Hyuck spoke and broke through the wall of boys; the gun being put back into the holster on his leg. He hopped back into the car and instructed Lele to drive to the nearest 7-11.

In and out. Ramen and iced coffee. When he got back he saw the rest of the boys just silently lounging on the grass. Jisung was sleeping on Renjun’s legs as the sun was going down more. “Did he move?” Hyuck asked as Mark trailed by him. “No. But he was yelling a little while ago. Something about dying?” Mark questioned and Hyuck didn’t need to hear anymore.

[ suggestion : listen to And I’m here by Kim Kyung Hee or Puzzle Piece by Nct Dream while reading ]

He didn’t waste time in jumping down the small cliff onto the next landing. Jaemin didn’t even acknowledge his brother as he stared into the sunset.

They both stared into the setting sky painted with vibrant colors of red and oranges. Hyuck sighed in relief as he finally sat down. He took Jae’s hand and put the cold coffee can into it. “They had your favorite.” Donghyuck bumped his elbow lightly. “And I got the ramen you like. It was on sale so I got you two.” Hyuck held both up in his hands.

The sniffles brought his attention up to his blue-headed friend. The boys who looked over the edge were shocked at what happened next. Donghyuck threw his arms around his friend, bringing Jaemin’s head to his chest. The sobs broke all of their hearts and made Hyuck become misty-eyed himself.

“We’re here for you. I promise.” Hyuck nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We.” The first tear fell as he tried to take a deep breath. “We just want you safe. We want you home.” As both the boys were crying and holding one another, the others couldn’t help but getting choked up.

“I didn't mean to be away for so long. But I got- I got hurt and I didn't want to ask,” Jae sat up and tried to take a deep breath. “I didn’t wan-want to ask for help.” He caught sight of the boys who listened intently. “I wanted to pick up Jisung from school but-but I got up and hurt my back again and wanted to run away again.” He confessed as he looked to the sleepy Jisung who had tears in his eyes.

“And I’m still hurt. I don’t know why I came back-” “Hey. Enough of that.” Hyuck rubbed his friend’s back soothingly. “And I realized I drained your bank account when I came back. And I feel,” The sobs ceased for a deep breath, “horrible.” Hyuck brought him in for another hug. “I’m just glad you came home.” He reassured the boy in front of him.

“We want you home. Even if you need another 2 years to recover, Jae. That’s okay.” Mark piped in and the boys hummed their understanding. “This. This isn’t healthy.” Renjun hopped down to the ledge where Hyuck and Jaemin sat. He took a seat on the other side of Jae and gave a sad smile.

“We’re not us when you’re not around. You’re like...” Renjun was at a loss for words. “Our missing puzzle piece.” Jeno finished and everyone turned to him where his arm was strung around Chenle’s shoulders.

“Please come home.” Lele added quietly and Jae thought for a moment. “...I...” He started but lost his words as quickly as they came.

He faced towards the sunset again and folded his legs under him. He was never good with words and they all understood that. It was okay.

He was okay.

“The sun is about to set.” He whispered and all the boys came onto the tiny cliff to surround their long lost friend in a warm huddle. Someone’s hand was rubbing Jae’s back lovingly, but no one knew who as the tangle of love wrapped them all up with each other.

Once the sun finally fell below the sea, they still sat there. “I’m ready to go home.” Jae choked and he was helped up and off of the cliff back to the car. Hyuck’s arm was thrown over the taller boy’s shoulder.

Jaemin got the window seat as they drove all the way back to Seoul. The rest of the boys dozed off into la-la land as Mark drove silently. Hyuck stayed awake to look over the group while Jaemin watched as the rain poured down on the windows. The city lights were streaked memories of being on the run.

Donghyuck’s head started bobbing up and down halfway through the drive. He was losing his battle with staying awake for the rest of the trip. Jaemin took note as he guided Hyuck’s head to lay on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Was all that the boy could mutter. “And one more thing, Jae.” He took the strength he had left to look up at the boy. “If you ever kill yourself. I’m gonna kill you.” Jaemin looked confused as he made sure all of the other boys were sleeping.

Jisung was curled up next to Chenle, Renjun was holding onto Jeno as they both snored softly. Jae looked back to Hyuck. “What are you talking about?” He asked and Hyuck was already half-asleep on his shoulder.

“Mark said you were yelling on the cliff. Something about dying.” Hyuck said groggily taking out his phone and earbuds. “Oh. My phone died in the middle of my playlist.” Jae chuckled and had no time to react before an earbud was being shoved into his ear.

“Good. ‘Cause I was gonna beat you up when I woke up.” Music was turned on and Hyuck curled up into Jaemin’s side one last time.

Jae would make eye contact with Mark through the rearview mirror every now and again, flashing a smile that all the boys missed very much.

Yet, Jae found himself being distracted with looking out the window every time he felt a rush or serenity. He hummed some of the songs before passing out against the window himself.

They all slept feeling full and complete with one another.

They got their missing puzzle piece.

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palilalia · 3 years

Photo

PAL-063 Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt LP/CD

"Made Out of Sound"

New studio LP/CD recorded Summer 2020

Made Out Of Sound by Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt

Sadly, many will hear Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt’s latest LP, Made Out of Sound, as “not-jazz,” though it would be more aptly described as “not-not-jazz.” In a better world, it would warrant above-the-fold reviews in Downbeat, or an appearance on David Sanborn’s late-night show (if someone would only give it back to him). More likely, we can hope for a haiku review on Byron Coley’s Twitter timeline to sufficiently connect the various improvised terrains trodden by this long-time duo — but if you’ve been able to listen past the overmodulated icepick fidelity of Harry Pussy, it should surprise you not an iota that Orcutt’s style is rooted as much in the fractal melodies of Trane and Taylor as it is in Delta syrup or Tin Pan Alley glitz.

As for Corsano, well, it may seem daft to call this particular record “jazz” (because duh, it has a drummer), but to me Corsano is beyond jazz, almost beyond music, his ambidextrous, octopoid technique grappling many stylistic levers and spraying a torrent of light from every direction. Corsano's ferocity has elevated many “mere” improv records to transcendence, but here he’s crafted his polyrhythms within more narrative channels, bringing to mind his “mannered” playing in the lamented Flower- Corsano duo. It's not “groove” playing precisely, but it follows many grooves simultaneously, much like Orcutt’s own melodic musings — which is why they’re so naturally lock-in-key here.

Which maybe makes it all the more surprising that Made Out of Sound was in fact recorded in different rooms on different coasts at different times, and stitched together by Orcutt on his desktop. Corsano recorded the drums in Ithaca, NY, and (as Orcutt states), “I didn’t edit them at all. I overdubbed two guitar tracks, panned left/right. I’d listen to the drums a couple times, pick a tuning, then improvise a part, thinking of the first track as backing and the second as the ‘lead’, though those are pretty fluid terms. I was watching the waveforms as I was recording, so I could see when a crescendo was coming or when to bring it down.”

Fluidity ties the tracks together. With a little more groove and a little less around-the-beat maneuvering, one could almost hear the boiling harmonic layers as Miles-oid in “Man Carrying Thing,” but with new-found Sharrockian modalities, Corsano accentuating the tumbling nature of the falling notes. The Sharrock vein continues with “How to Cook a Wolf,” its Blind Willie-esque melodic simplicity and repetition extrapolated 360-style in a repetitive descending riff that falls into Cippolina-isms (by way of Verlaine) until the end crashes upon the shore.

Much like Orcutt’s last solo album, Odds Against Tomorrow, there’s a gentler, almost pastoral flow to some tracks (“Some Tennessee Jar,” “A Port in Air,” “Thirteen Ways of Looking”) that calls to mind the mixolydian swamplands of Lonnie Liston Smith — but unlike Odds, other tracks (“The Thing Itself”) smash that same lyricism into overdriven, multi-dimensional melodic clumps that push several vector envelopes at once in an Interstellar Space vein.

With the help of Corsano, Orcutt has managed to slither even further out of the noise/improv pigeonhole lazy listeners/writers keep trying to shove him into. Looking at the back cover of Made Out of Sound, we should not see Orcutt hurling a guitar into the air with post-punk bravado, Corsano toiling behind him in the engine room — we should witness an instrument levitating from his hands, rising on invisible major-key tendrils of melody, fired by percussion, spiraling into an invisible event horizon. — TOM CARTER

BUY CD

BUY LP (Currently sold out, repress expected in October)

Chris Corsano: Drums Bill Orcutt: Guitars Recorded Summer 2020 in SF & Ithaca Mastered by James Plotkin Photos by Hans van der Linden PAL-063 © & ℗ Palilalia Records 2020

#release

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livesincerely · 4 years

Text

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 1

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey’s just gotten out of class—literally just walked out the door—when his phone starts ringing.

“Davey,” Tony says the moment he answers, not even giving Davey time to say hello, “can you swing by the apartment real quick?”

Davey sighs. “Are you locked out of the house again?”

There’s a guilty silence. Then, “Or maybe I just wanna see you, huh? You don’t know.”

“Tony.”

“Charlie’s the one that lost the spare,” Tony capitulates immediately, there’s an indignant “Hey!” somewhere in the background, “and I left my keys in my locker ‘cause I thought Charlie had his—”

There’s a scuffle of noise, then Charlie’s voice breaks in, “—don’t listen to him Davey, I asked him before we even got on the subway if he had his keys and he said he did but he didn’t even check—”

“—well, I thought you had yours, didn’t I?—”

“—and he was twenty minutes late picking me up from band practice because he was too busy making out with Spot Conlon to come help me carry my stuff—”

“—that was supposed to be a secret you little shit!”

“—you started it!”

Davey pulls the phone away from his ear as the other side of the line descends into a mess of indistinct yelling. He thinks about trying to get their attention, but he decides to just start heading towards the apartment, muting his side of the call while he waits them out—they’ll remember him eventually.

In the meantime, Davey sends a quick text:

Tony and Charlie locked themselves out of the house again

He’s not expecting a response, but Jack must be in-between projects because he gets one almost immediately.

jc again?

And you’re going to have to get a new spare made

fuck okay i’ll take care of it. are you heading over?

I’m walking there now

ur the light of my life dave

Davey can’t help but smile at this, a soft feeling fluttering in his chest. Before he can write back, Jack sends another text:

how did ur midterm go?

I feel good about it! Def did better than I thought it would!

duh youve been living in the library all week ofc ur gonna do great. ill swing by the grocery omw home and pick up some ice cream to celebrate. do we need anything else while im there?

Get a bell pepper and some tomato paste, I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner. And we need more laundry detergent.

fuck yes im starving! can we do garlic bread too?

Come home on time and we’ll see.

u drive a hard bargain. kerian owes me a favor so he can stay late tonight lol

“Davey?” The sound of Charlie’s voice, tinny and muffled, prompts Davey to lift his phone back to his ear; it seems like he might’ve been calling Davey’s name for a while. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” Davey confirms.

“So are ya comin’ or what?” Tony cuts in, ever impatient. “I’m roasting out here!”

“Well, I was thinking about leaving you to ruminate on your poor life choices,” Davey responds dryly, “but I guess I can come let you in, since you asked so nicely.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Charlie says.

“I’ll be there soon,” Davey confirms.

“Hurry, will ya? Much longer and I’m gonna get heatstroke and die,” Tony declares.

Davey rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Tony.”

00000

When he arrives at Jack’s building some twenty minutes later, Davey finds Tony and Charlie right where he expects them: crowded together in the little bit of shade the roof’s overhang offers, wearing identical grumpy expressions that brighten immediately when they spot him approaching.

"Finally!" Tony exclaims, shooting to his feet. "What took you so long?"

“Stop losing your keys and you won’t have to wait for me,” Davey counters, slotting his key into the deadbolt and hefting open the heavy exterior door. He props it open with his hip and lets Tony and Charlie scurry past him into the AC. “You couldn’t get anyone to buzz you in?”

“Old Man Davis hasn’t gotten his hearing aid replaced yet,” Charlie explains as they climb the stairs up to the second floor, “and Mrs. Ikeda isn’t home.”

“She joined a new book club,” Tony adds. “She won’t be back till late.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask her about it when I see her next,” Davey muses.

He gets the apartment door unlocked and the boys pile inside, tossing their backpacks down with dramatic groans of relief. Charlie makes a beeline for his bedroom; Davey expects Tony to do the same but he takes a seat at the kitchen table instead, booting up his laptop with a couple of keystrokes.

“I’ve got a paper due in English tomorrow,” Tony explains. “Can you look it over once it’s finished? Maybe later this evening”

“Of course,” Davey replies. “What’s it on?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

Davey’s nose wrinkles up. “Oh, I hated that one. What’s the essay prompt?”

“Identify Golding’s argument about human nature as proposed in Lord of the Flies,” Tony reads off the top of the assignment outline. “Then make an argument agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment, using evidence from the text.”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Good to see that high school literature classes haven’t changed much in the last few years,” he says with a sigh. “How much have you written so far?”

“Oh, I haven’t even started it yet,” Tony casually rebuts.

“Is everything going okay?” Davey asks, frowning slightly. “If things are getting worse we can make an appointment—”

But Tony waives his concerns aside. “Nah, this is regular old procrastination, not ADHD procrastination. Like ya said, Lord of the Flies sucks ass, so I just didn’t want to write it.”

“Well, let one of us know if you start having trouble,” Davey says.

"Okay, mom,” Tony agrees, somewhat distracted. He’s already got a blank document pulled up on his laptop, a battered and thoroughly dog-eared copy of the book laying open beside him.

Davey looks at him for another moment, then he shrugs and continues making his way into the kitchen—he figures there’s no need to worry unless Racer starts actually missing assignments. And he’s right: Lord of the Flies does suck ass.

By the time Jack gets home they’re each fully entrenched in different activities: Davey’s washed a sink full of dishes and is working on drying the last few pieces of silverware, Tony is still posted up at the kitchen table, carefully hammering out a draft of his paper, and there are the familiar sounds of Charlie working through different musical scales on his oboe in the back bedroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jack calls jokingly as he enters. There’s a rustle of plastic and soft thunk of the front door closing behind him, then he comes around the corner into the dining room with an armful of groceries.

“Hey, Jack,” Davey greets absently. He starts rifling through the bags almost before Jack can finish putting them down. “Did you get the tomato—?”

“I got the tomato paste,” Jack says, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the entryway with all the others, “and I picked up some more of that fancy coffee you like from the place around the corner, even though it’s expensive as all hell.”

“Don’t judge me,” Davey replies, gathering up an armful of vegetables and carrying them further into the kitchen. “You spend a semester grading 'Intro to Shakespeare' homework and tell me how much caffeine you consume.”

“I’m just saying, the rest of us schmucks drink regular coffee and do just fine,” Jack continues. “You can feed your crippling caffeine addiction just as well with Folgers and it’ll cut down on the grocery bill.”

“Watch it, Kelly,” Davey says, pointing a finger teasingly in Jack’s direction. “Smartasses don’t get dinner.”

“‘s that so?” Jack asks with a grin. “Then why the hell are we still feeding Tony?”

“I heard that,” Tony grumbles from the kitchen table.

“Yeah, you were supposed to,” Jack says, moving over to Tony and slinging an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. Tony bats at Jack’s hand but makes no real attempt to get away. Then Jack says, “So, I hear you and your brother lost another set of keys.”

Tony throws Davey a look of the deepest betrayal. “You told Jack?”

“Of course he did,” Jack says. “Someone’s gonna have to get new ones made, and it sure ain’t gonna be either half of the dynamic duo.”

“Charlie lost the spare,” Tony says, mercilessly throwing Charlie under the bus while he’s not in the room to defend himself. “And I didn’t lose my keys, I just left them in my locker.”

“Uh huh, save it for the judge,” Jack responds, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Just know if I end up having to change the deadbolt, it’s coming outta your subway money.”

“Jackie, leave Tony alone,” Davey comments mildly over Tony’s spluttering protests. “He needs to work on that paper and you’re distracting him.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Tony repeats, a little smug. “You’re distracting me.”

Davey turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. Tony quickly busies himself with his homework.

Davey makes quick work of washing a green pepper and peeling an onion, then starts dicing both into small, neat pieces. He feels more than hears Jack sidle up behind him: the familiar weight of his gaze, the solid presence at his back. He stands there quietly, leaning against the counter-top and just watching Davey cook; unbothered, Davey leaves him be for the moment and moves to the stove, scraping the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a pan to start softening.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Davey glances over his shoulder at Jack and says, “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me with this? You know there’s no loitering in my kitchen.”

“Well, I’m nothin’ if not a law abidin’ citizen,” Jack drawls in answer, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, exposing the long, muscular line of his forearms, and washes his hands in the kitchen sink. “Where do you want me?”

Davey licks his lips. “Think you can handle browning the hamburger?”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Jack responds with a smirk.

Davey steps out of the way, letting Jack take his place in front of the sauce pan while he gets a pot of water set up on a different burner, salting it so it boils faster. They settle into their familiar dinner-routine, moving around and past each other with ease as they work on getting everything ready, chattering idly all the while.

“I’ve gotta head back out this evening,” Jack says at one point, as he sets the tray of garlic bread in the oven to toast. “Johnson’s got me working a night shoot and I have to be downtown by 9.”

“How long is the session?” Davey asks. “Here, will you open this?”

“We’re scheduled for five hours, but we might get to wrap it up early if everything goes well.” Jack’s hand brushes against the small of Davey’s back and they trade places again, Davey stepping back up to the stove-top and Jack rifling around in one of the drawers for a can opener.

“Are ya spendin’ the night or are ya headin’ back to campus?”

“Depends on how much help Tony needs with his paper,” Davey replies, shaking his head. He takes the can when Jack hands it back to him and empties it into the saucepan, then gives the whole thing a good stir. “We might be at it a while.”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you do spend the night, go ahead and take the bed. The extra blankets are in the usual place.”

Davey sets down the spoon he’s holding, crossing his arms across his chest. “Jack,” he says warningly.

“Davey,” Jack echoes back in the exact same tone of voice. In the background there’s the faint sound of Tony muttering, “Jesus, not this again.”

“Jack, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” Davey says, rehashing the same old argument for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m perfectly fine taking the couch.”

“Or you could do the smart thing and just take the bed,” Jack counters as he always does. “I’m not even gonna be here to use it.”

“You’ll want an actual mattress when you get home, especially if you’re out late.” Davey argues. “I don’t even have class tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t take the bed I’ll just carry you in there once I get back,” Jack says, as if that's a perfectly reasonable course of action. “So you might as well save me the trouble.”

Davey sputters. “That’s not— You can’t just— That only happened a couple of times!” he finally gets out.

"Well, actually, it's been more like four or five times," Jack says with a smirk. "But hey, who's counting?"

"That trick won't keep working," Davey grumbles, feeling the back of his neck start to heat up.

“You sleep like a fucking rock, Dave,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it keep working?”

“No, see, that’s exactly why I should take the couch,” Davey insists. “It’s not like the sound of you coming in will wake me up—”

Jack turns to face him. Davey cuts off, slightly startled—he hadn’t realized they were standing so close to each other.

“Just take the bed, Davey,” Jack all but orders, and those dark eyes with that low voice are a heady combination. “Please?”

Davey bites at his lower lip, suddenly flustered. “Fine,” he reluctantly concedes, hoping Jack will attribute his flushed face to the heat of the kitchen. “Just this once.”

"Thank you," Jack says with a dramatic heave of his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're letting the garlic bread burn," Davey answers tartly.

"Oh shit—!"

00000

Later that evening, after they’ve all finished eating and have cleaned up, Davey, Tony, and Charlie are still gathered around the table, working on various assignments.

Davey is finishing the readings for his Monday lecture in between helping Tony finalize the exact wording of his essay. Charlie sits opposite him, working through his geometry homework and every so often there’s a huff of breath and the rubbery scratch of an eraser—Davey makes a mental note to swipe some more pencils and notebook paper from the grad lounge when he’s there next.

Davey notices the time and frowns. “Jack,” he calls out, “it’s already 7:30. If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna be late for work.”

There’s a clamor of noise from down the hall, then Jack appears, freshly showered and fumbling to put on his socks and button up a clean shirt at the same time.

“Fuck, Johnson is gonna kill me,” Jack grumbles. He pats down his pockets, then groans. “Christ, has anyone seen my—”

“Your wallet and keys are on the counter by the microwave,” Davey says, pointing. “And take a jacket, it’s supposed to rain later.”

“Great, I’m sure the models will love that,” Jack says with a groan. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get through everything without getting rained out.”

He meanders his way over to the table, peering at Charlie’s homework from over his shoulder. “If Tony is still busy and ya get stuck, text me,” Jack tells him. “I probably won't be able to answer right away, but if ya send me a picture of the problem I can probably talk ya through it between shots.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgment, still scribbling furiously. Jack turns to Tony.

“Listen to whatever Davey tells you about your paper,” he advises. “The only reason I got through undergraduate writing was ‘cause Davey proofread all my shit before I turned it in.”

“I thought I was s’pposed to always listen to Davey,” Tony says distractedly, tongue poking out between his teeth as he types.

Jack pauses, considering. “Yeah, just do that.”

“Jack—”

“Oh, and Dave cooked, so you shitheads better do the dishes, get me?”

“Jack, you’re gonna be late,” Davey cuts in firmly, holding out Jack’s jacket for him.

“Alright, I’m going,” Jack says, shrugging it on, and he finally starts making moves towards the door.

He gives Charlie one last pat on the shoulder and cuffs Tony lightly across the back of the head in a slightly rougher, but no less affectionate goodbye, which is per usual. Then he turns to Davey, tips his chin up, and kisses him right on the mouth, short and sweet.

“Lock the door behind me and don’t forget to—” Jack stops mid-sentence, then turns bright red.

“Um,” says Charlie.

“Holy shit,” says Tony.

Jack’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Finally, he stammers out, “I u-uh— I-I d-didn’t mean—“

Davey doesn’t respond. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to—he’s frozen in place, his mind a sudden wash of static. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then Jack blurts, “gottagoseeyoulaterbye,” and bolts out the front door.

Davey’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly into space, utterly dumbfounded.

“Davey?” Charlie asks hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

There’s a strangled, choking noise. A split second later, Davey realizes it’s coming from him.

"...What just happened?"

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #the one where it's domestic #oof this was a long time coming #this au might become its own series #the javid coparenting vibes are REAL and i NEED them #btw there will be a couple more chapters of this so stay tuned

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zayray030 · 4 years

Text

5 times Jason surprised the Titans and 1 time they surprised him.

Chapter 1/6

Chapter Title: You can Cook.

Summary: When Jason wakes up it's too people screaming and the fire alarm beeping. What he sees however is his beautiful kitchen in the ruins and the Titans being their usual dickish self's.

OR Jason wakes up to find the kitchen ruined and kicks the Titans out of the kitchen and then proceeds to make an amazing breakfast. He however doesn't belive the Titans sincerity.

Jason was sleeping peacefully when he heard the screams of people being tortured and sirens blaring.

Okay, so he might be being over dramatic but Bruce always did say that he did have a thing for theatrics.

Anyway, when Jason heard the screaming he shot up like a bullet, expecting to be back on the street and seeing another woman getting harassed by a man. Maybe a kid who thought it was a smart idea to fuck with a gang. Instead he woke up to white walls covered with posters and his book everywhere.

The next thing he realised was that it was not screams of people being tortured or sirens blaring. It was Dick’s panicked mother's hen voice and the fire alarm.

Honestly, the thing that actually worried him was the fire alarm. When he heard it he bolted right out of bed, ignoring the fact that he was in short shorts and an oversized wonder woman t-shirt, and raced to the kitchen to only wish he had stayed in bed.

He heard a horrified scream and only when everyone had turned to him did he realise that he had been the one to let it out.

“You okay, bat brat? You seem-” Jason wouldn't know what he had seemed like to Hank because he cut him off with another scream. This time, it was one of anger.

“What the fuck did you do to the kitchen!!” Honestly he was surprised that the windows hadn't cracked but he was sure that his teammates' ear drums were busted.

“Jason, I think you're overreacting. It's just-” Dick tried to sooth him but Jason could care less about the ex boy wonder. He was just trying to find a way to make their deaths seem like an accident.

“A pigsty!! There's butter on the roof! Milk spilled on the counter! Egg shells everywhere! Are you trying to let bacteria contaminate the place!! And oh God, what the fuck did you do to the floor!!!” Jason didn't even care if his screaming was going to ruin his whole bad boy image because currently the fact that his kitchen had been destroyed by a bunch of adults was the only thing on his mind.

“Jason, I think you're being a tad bit too hysterical.” Dawn tried in her normally soothing tone but Jason wasn't having it.

“HYSTERICAL!?! You all ruined the kitchen. MY kitchen!!”

“Since when was it yours?” Donna tried to sass but Jason just levelled her with a look. Part incredulous, part angry.

“Since I'm the only one who can cook!! And what the fuck is that on the pan?! It looks like some undiscovered fungi!” snapped Jason, turning his attention to the appliances. Not even the strongest dish shop was going to clean all this out.

“Those are eggs. I tried to make some.” muttered Rachel, her cheeks flushing pink when Jason turned to her.

“How in fucks name did you idiots provide for yourself for so long!” he was going to continue but then something fell from the ceiling before him and he let out another scream.

“WHAT IS THAT!?!?”

“Pancakes.” was Kory’s short reply and Jason felt like he could faint.

“That's it. All of you out. I'm going to actually make something edible.” when it looked like Dick was going to protest he cut him off. “And no, Dick! Cereal isn't an option. God knows how you actually managed to make the milk successfully.” he muttered the last part under his breath but Dick still heard.

Everyone just rolled their eyes at Jason. Even Gar thought he was being a tad bit too dramatic. Sure their attempts at pancakes and eggs were a disaster but what was he going to make? Everyone walked into the training room, thinking that Jason was going to sulk back in and demand to be fed something.

So they sat in the room and waited. Rose playing with her katana, Rachel reading a book, Gar practicing his transformation, the girls gossiping and the guys talking about a movie.

However 30 minutes in and Jason still hadn't come. Everyone was getting confused by the time an hour had gone by and Jason still hadn't come.

“You don't actually think he's making something, do you?”asked Gar, but he had a hopeful face on. Maybe he could finally eat something decent for once.

“It's Jason, Gar. I doubt he even knows how to turn the oven on.” muttered Rachel scathingly.

“I doubt the nerd actually can cook. He's probably just getting something from the microwave.” came Rose's voice from where she was laid out on the floor.

“Guys be nice. Jason might have surprised us with something really nice.” chastised Dawn, but even she sounded uncertain.

Before anyone could contradict her they heard Jason calling for them. “Oi, idiots. Get here. I made you breakfast. Be fucking grateful”

Everyone just rolled their eyes expecting there to be just Granola bars he had scavenged from the pantry and orange juice but what they saw shocked them.

There were piles upon piles of food. All ranging from pancakes and waffles to eggs and bacon. Dick could also see some fresh fruits lying around as well as a few glasses of apple juice. The Titans, both old and new, couldn't help but feel their mouths drool at the sight of such a delicious meal.

“You made all this.” asked Donna pointing from Jason to the food, her voice filled with disbelief.

Jason’s cheeks flushed slightly but he held his head high. Dick could admire his bravery. “Duh. Someone had to.”snapped Jason, glaring at everyone. “We're also going to need a shit ton more supplies. I had to get rid of almost everything and the few supplied I did have were barely anything so be grateful.”

Everyone felt their eyes widen even more once they had all turned their gazes away from Jay's meal and actually looked at the kitchen. The tiles were clean and so where the counters. The ceiling had no more gunk on it but there was a trash bag nearby and everyone could see the kitchen utensils that they had used this morning along with a few pots and pan. Shit, the bill was going to be expensive.

“Damn, nerd. I didn't think you had it in you.” Rose's normally mocking tone had turned impressed but Jason hadn't realised.

“Could you all for once just not beat up on me. Especially after I did something not asshole like. Christ, why do I try?” asked Jason angrily storming out of the kitchen.

“Jason, she-” but Jason wasn't listening and he stalked off to his room, slamming the door shut.

“At least there are pancakes.”

“HANK!”

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

33 notes · View notes

octoberobserver · 4 years

Note

35, whatever ship you want!

Hi @tinyarmedtrex 😊 ooh thanks so much! This, unsurprisingly, got away from me and became a lot bigger than I intended. Also unsurprisingly, I chose Reddie. Hope that’s okay. Enjoy!

35) An awkward kiss given after a first date:

I don’t know about you, but I’m feelin’ tiramisu

“Okay Rich, you think it over. Get back to me ASAP, though. Can’t keep HBO waiting,” Harry ‘Ace’ McIntyre grinned, clapping Richie Tozier hard on the shoulder as he stood up from the table.

“It was a pleasure, Eddie.”

Eddie Kaspbrak forced a smile onto his face.

“Back at ya, Harry.”

Steely, grey eyes flickered before a large, cold hand was covering his, squeezing tightly.

“Ace, Eddie please. Call me Ace.”

Eddie could feel Richie stifling a laugh (no doubt thinking about Ace Ventura, knowing him) from where he was practically plastered along his side, their thighs and shoulders pressed together as they sat at the restaurant table, staring up at the older man.

“Ace.”

The two friends watched for several beats as the tall, salt-and-pepper-haired executive turned on his heel and swanned out of the room towards the elevators.

“You think he bought it?”

Eddie tilted his head up at Richie, barely restraining his desire to roll his eyes.

“Hook, line and sinker, dude. Don’t think he was all too focussed on you anyway.”

Richie guffawed, taking a sip of his drink.

“I know, right? Who knew all I’d need to do to get him to stop relentlessly flirting with me was to bring you along to our business meeting?”

Eddie frowned at him, catching his eye, “Uh… you did, Rich. Isn’t that the whole reason you asked me in the first place?”

A beat passed. Two.

“Yeah, Eds,” Richie nodded, eyes lowering to the table, before draining his glass in one large gulp, “but your uh…your plan of pretending to be my boyfriend was the icing on the cake.”

He shrugged, gaze darting across the room to where Harry was entering the elevator, a smirk and small wave aimed their way as the doors closed.

“Still think it may just make ol’ Ace think he’s in for an Eds and Richie icecream sandwich, though.”

Eddie snorted into his own glass of chardonnay, side-eyeing the menu at his left elbow.

“No way I’d have a threesome with that Mark Harmon wannabe,” he grumbled along with his stomach, that took that moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl.

Richie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Shit Eds, my bad. Forgot all you had was our liquid lunch. Let’s get some food into you before you start swooning like a Victorian maiden in the breeze.”

Eddie glared at him, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Don’t worry about my blood sugar, Trashmouth. You’re the one that eats like a hungover college student. Isn’t it about ramen o’clock for you?”

Which was how they ended up ordering actual dinner at the fancy hotel that Harry ‘Ace’ McIntyre insisted they stay at, overnight, all expenses paid on his company credit card. It was only mid-way through his smoked salmon that Eddie realised that Richie, at no point, made any move to leave his side and sit across from him.

Instead, he stayed practically attached at his hip, their elbows constantly bumping together as they reached for glasses and cutlery and eventually, the dessert menu.

“Hmm…tiramisu,” Richie muttered almost to himself, “the sexiest of desserts.”

Eddie stared at him.

“There are sexy desserts?”

Richie slowly lowered the menu, his already-large eyes practically bug-like as he gaped at Eddie.

“Uh, yeah Eds. Duh. Tiramasu, Death by Chocolate, Sex in a Pan, pretty much anything with strawberries—”

“Sex in a pan?”

Richie blinked.

“I saw it on Pinterest.”

“You’re on Pinterest?”

A flush crossed Richie’s cheeks as he clearly tried to backpedal, “Uh, some girl on Twitter sent me a link—”

“Don’t you have to have an account to see things on—”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feelin’ tiramisu.”

Eddie chuckled, “Isn’t that a Taylor Swift song?”

Richie’s mouth dropped open, clearly pleased his joke landed.

“Eds! Did you just get a pop culture reference? Didn’t know you had it in ya, buddy.”

Richie was practically scarlet now, flushed with amusement, alcohol and something else. Eddie was kinda obsessed with the descent of crimson down his face, neck and disappearing into the open top button of his very nice navy shirt that Bev had forced him into earlier that day.

His gaze lingered on Richie’s bobbing Adam’s apple for a second too long, missing Richie’s response.

“What?”

Eddie forced his eyes back up to safer areas.

“I uh…I said we could just share something if you want?”

Eddie was doing a little better with his germaphobia these days. Being Richie’s roommate for the last year probably had something to do with it. If anything was gonna help ease him out of a lifetime of habitual, borderline-obsessive cleanliness was watching Richie eat a giant, meatball calzone with his bare hands on the white, cloth couch that Eddie had picked out when he first moved in. His heart had raced every time Richie groaned after each bite, but now that Eddie thought on it, that may not have been just because of the abundance of spaghetti sauce that threatened the integrity of their furniture.

Because really, Eddie had never shied away from sharing space with even the messiest Richie. From sharing anything with any version of Richie, really. Pop rockets, hammocks and now…tiramisu. Eddie didn’t know why Richie had always been the exception to his many, many rules regarding things like germs and personal space—

Except, he did. He knew well enough.

Which was how he wasn’t as grossed out as he should have been when both his and Richie’s spoons dipped into the dessert over and over again, clattering together until there was only one bite left.

Richie made a sweeping movement with his empty spoon, eyes twinkling.

“Have at it, Eds. I’m stuffed.”

It was when Eddie had the final spoonful raised to his lips did he realise how close their faces were and how Richie had yet to look away from him.

He closed his mouth around the spoon, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched Richie’s eyes follow the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing again.

Warmth pooled into Eddie’s abdomen.

He could only imagine what this must look like to any outsiders looking in.

It looks like you’re on a date, genius.

It felt like he was on a date too, if he was being honest.

“‘S good,” he mumbled as he let the spoon fall back down into the bowl, trying to ignore his thumping heartbeat.

The noise of the spoon clanking against the dish seemed to startle Richie, he jerking slightly in his chair, blinking rapidly, staring down at the tablecloth that he was bunching in his hands.

“Y-Yeah, it was good. Uh…you uh…want another drink?”

Eddie stared at Richie’s whitening knuckles, his brain buzzing.

“Actually I’m kinda tired. Can we head upstairs?”

Upstairs to their shared room with only one bed because Eddie had had the bright idea of him pretending to be Richie’s boyfriend to get ‘Ace’ McIntyre to stop sniffing around him like a cat in heat.

That wasn’t the only reason though, was it Kaspbrak?

The sudden screech of Richie pushing out of his chair jolted Eddie out of his spiral.

“Sure Eds, sounds good.”

He dropped a hefty tip on the table before grabbing his suit jacket and draping it over his shoulder. Eddie watched as Richie’s chest and waist expanded and constricted with the motion, the tight material of his shirt leaving little to the imagination.

“Lead the way, Tozier.”

His voice was a lot more croaky than he would have liked as he swallowed around the dry lump in his throat, but he ignored it as he stood up and grabbed his own jacket, forcing his eyes to focus on the safe spot between Richie’s shoulder blades and not letting them drift lower while he followed him out of the restaurant towards the elevators.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, or in Eddie’s case, shoulder to upper arm, (Richie’s gangly height never failing to irritate him and…something else entirely sometimes) as Richie bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the doors to open.

“I’m proud of you, Rich.”

He didn’t plan on saying it, but did anyway.

Richie had come so far since he came out, live on stage last year. He had weathered the media storm post-coming-out, dealt with the backlash from shitty former-fans, opened up his home to Eddie who was freshly-divorced and recuperating from an actual-death-experience, written an emmy-nominated-and-favourite-to-win standup and was now working on developing his own comedy/drama for HBO alongside Bill.

Eddie was beyond proud of him.

He was just never the one good with words.

“Thanks, Eds.”

Their gazes met just as the elevator doors opened.

Judging by his misty eyes, Richie didn’t need much more than that from Eddie.

The ride up fifteen floors seemed to last forever and no time at all as they shared nothing but mingled breaths in the small space, their arms pressed against each other. Something thrummed in Eddie’s veins, an energy, a spark flooding his system with adrenaline as he felt on the precipice of something that they had been on for a long time. A knife-edge of potential with a seemingly endless drop.

It was terrifying.

And exhilarating.

And the most alive Eddie Kaspbrak had felt in a long, long time.

The doors opened with a jolt, snapping him from his reverie as he followed Richie down the hallway, fighting to catch his breath, not sure whether to curse the multiple glasses of wine he had or thank them. His eyes sought the strong line of Richie’s shoulder blades, biting his lip as he admired the expanse of Richie’s back as he walked.

They arrived at the door so abruptly that Eddie bumped up against that back, his face pressing into the shirt that smelled amazing. Something woodsy and sharp but not overwhelming. It was a smell he was familiar with, having shared a home with Richie all this time, but having it this close, this strong, was something else entirely.

“Whoa, where’s the fire Eds?” Richie joked, but sounded rather winded as he began shuffling, clearly looking for something as Eddie forced himself to right his footing, leaning away from him a little, but not much.

As Richie continued to struggle with his suit jacket, Eddie’s hand reached out almost unbeknownst to him to rest on Richie’s breast-pocket, fingers deftly reaching in and pulling out the keycard, holding it up pointedly.

“Looking for this?” he asked far too breathlessly as he took in just how close they were standing, crowded against the door in the dim-light of the hotel hallway.

“Uh…yeah,” Richie mumbled, expression enigmatic as he reached out to take the key, their hands brushing.

Eddie stares at their fingers, quiet words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

“You know, if this was a real date, this is probably where you’d kiss me goodnight.”

What the fuck, Kaspbrak?!

Richie gasped, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

“Eds what—”

Eddie surged up, gripping the back of Richie’s neck and pulling him down, sealing his lips with his.

It wasn’t fireworks or explosions or any of Hollywood-esque bullshit.

It was…awkward. Mostly.

Mainly because Richie was frozen on the spot, one arm glued to his side, the other still clenching his hand and Eddie highly aware of a laser-focussed gaze zeroed in on them.

“Wow, someone is in for a fun night, huh boys?” a familiar voice asked, creepily smug.

Eddie pulled away, heaving a breath, his hand falling from Richie’s neck to grip the front of his shirt.

“Harr—Ace, uh sorry. Didn’t see ya there.”

He did, though.

Eddie had spotted him coming towards them just as the words ‘kiss me goodnight’ left his mouth and his tipsy brain decided that actually kissing Richie would be an okay cover for what the executive may have overheard.

“A-Ace,” Richie rasped, looking as shell-shocked as Eddie felt as he turned to the older man.

“Thanks again for e-everything. Looking forward to hearing from you. Goodnight!”

With that, he tugged Eddie’s hand toward the electric lock, clicking the door open and pulling Eddie haphazardly over the threshold, slamming the door behind them.

Eddie blinked up at him, their hands still joined.

“Uh, that was kinda rude, Rich—”

“If I didn’t drag your sexy little ass in here, he’d be following us, thanks to your… show,” Richie cut across him, eyes wild, his arms flailing, dropping Eddie’s hand like a stone.

Eddie covered his disappointment by raking it through his hair, not caring that it was likely sticking up in all angles now.

He was mid-swipe through his locks when Richie’s words caught up to him.

“Sexy?”

Richie’s attention snapped from the door back to him.

“Huh?”

Heat flooded Eddie’s cheeks as he cleared his throat.

“You uh…you called me sexy. Or, my ass anyway.”

Richie looked as if Eddie had just slapped him.

“Eds—I—that’s what you choose to focus on? Not the fact that an exec wants to engage in a little unholy trinity with us? Of course you’re fucking sexy, Eddie, are you kidding? You have to know tha—”

“Yeah, I really don’t,” he cut across him with his patented karate chop, insecurity beginning to creep into his veins.

What the fuck were you thinking, dumbass? It wasn’t a real date, you’re not real boyfr—

“You’re…you’re gorgeous Eddie, fuck.”

The words were wrenched from deep in Richie’s chest, as if it pained him to say them. His face, always full of a myriad of expressions, was no less of a silent story now.

It seemed like a whole other confession.

And maybe it was.

Warmth pooled in Eddie’s stomach as he stepped as he stepped closer and closer to Richie until his back hit the door.

It was up close like this that he could properly see just how affected Richie was after their little performance, his breath ragged, his skin flushed, his pupils dilated.

Holy shit.

“You…you’re sexy too by the way,” he admitted, his head spinning with the truth, “Bev is an angel for that suit, fuck Richie ,” he gasped, reaching out to clasp the collar of his shirt.

“I…I really wanna make a ‘buy a guy dinner first’ joke but uh…guess Ace has us beat,” Richie mumbled, looking awestruck as he slowly, tentatively ran his hand down Eddie’s forearm, feather-light.

“Pity he won’t reap the rewards,” Eddie tried to grin, failing to suppress a shiver as their skin met.

Richie leaned down until their mouths were barely an inch apart.

“And what rewards would that—”

Eddie shoved him back against the door with a thump, leaning up and crashing his lips against his.

This kiss was anything but awkward. It was fire and light and energy and…overwhelmingly right. Richie was ready for it this time, kissing back wholeheartedly, one hand clutching Eddie’s hip and the other winding around his back, pulling him flush against him.

Eddie groaned as Richie’s tongue brushed along the seam of his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and causing a bolt of arousal to shoot through him.

They broke for air, Eddie gasping against his lips, “J-Jesus Rich, you learn to kiss like that on Pinterest too?”

Richie laughed, his eyes still closed as he leaned down to rest his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Nah. Just a lot of articles on how to seduce your best friend and lifelong crush.”

Warmth spread throughout Eddie’s chest, his throat tightening with emotion.

I love you too, dumbass.

They had a lot to discuss. More words to exchange than either of them had the emotional capacity to communicate right now, so Eddie fell back on their routine. For now.

Tomorrow was another day.

“And what…what was the first step? Tiramisu?”

Richie’s eyes blinked open, shining bright in the semi-darkness.

“I told you, Eds. It is the sexiest dessert.”

Eddie chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled him back down.

“I’m not so sure. I can think of something sexier.”

Read on ao3 here

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #prompt #also posted to ao3

71 notes · View notes

skelezbian · 5 years

Note

I saw your thing on AO3 about requests and I was wondering if for any skeleton, any AU, if you could do a 'I came to a dance class because of my brother and now we have to awkwardly slow dance/tango/waltz together'. Thank you for your wonderful writing!

UGH this one is so good it’s haunted me since i saw it in my inbox. (i chose underswap papyrus btw)

ao3 link

Papyrus, if pressed, would’ve said that his second least favorite thing to do was move. His ideal day had him lazing about, sketching out some complex Rube Goldberg machine to move even less but with more complex hijinks involved. He certainly hadn’t been so low when he was younger, but growing up seemed to take the wind out of his sails, and the fact that his friend group extended to one person and his brother certainly hadn’t helped. He’d had big dreams- becoming a part of the Royal Guard and all of the romance that entailed. The suit of armor, the fancy outings, the prestige of it all, the hope for a future on the Surface… It had painted a very shiny and ideal future to a kid whose earliest memory was of his older brother panicking about finding them somewhere to live.

That future had dulled as he got older. Some dreams, he had supposed, were best left as dreams. He was slow and achy at only twenty years and those weren’t the kind of goals an achy skeleton got to have.

Unfortunately, Sans disagreed. He’d been the president of the Papyrus Fan Club the day that he’d become an older brother, and his optimism and hope for him never ceased to amaze Papyrus. He’d long since given up trying to get him to physically prepare for being a knight in the Royal Guard (giving Papyrus all of his sentry shifts so he wouldn’t have to move as much), but Papyrus had been naive to believe that his brother had forgotten about his childhood ramblings.

On the Surface, now, everything seemed limitless and possible, and Sans has fucking signed him up for a ballroom dancing class.

“i’m not going. you can’t make me.” Papyrus says, petulantly, childishly, sitting at their living room table. His fingers find a carved indention where he had tried to write his name in the wood when he was younger- ‘papiris’. “you remember what happened when you signed me up for a yoga class. what do you think is going to happen?”

“OH, DON’T GIVE ME THAT.” Sans turns around only briefly from where he’s scrambling eggs to roll his eyelights at him. “YOU DIDN’T DO THE WARM-UPS, IT’S NOT THE ENTIRE PRACTICE OF YOGA’S FAULT. BESIDES, BALLROOM DANCING IS THE LOWEST EFFORT DANCE LESSON I COULD FIND.” The spatula gently scrapes the bottom of the pan. “BESIDES. YOU USED TO LOVE THOSE CHEESY HUMAN ROMANCE SOAPS.”

“well, i’m about a decade and a half older than i was when i first watched ‘beauty and the beast’, so i don’t think that counts, sans.” He grumbles, slumping onto the table. Yoga had been a horrific incident- the humans were nice, the atmosphere was fine, but they’d done a simple move and his thigh bone had popped out of his pelvic cradle and the woman next to him had screamed and fainted. And then the instructor had called a human ambulance despite Papyrus’ protests, all while he tried to calm down enough to get his magic to reattach his leg. It was single handedly the most embarrassing moment of his life, even over the time Undyne invited her girlfriend over and had completely forgotten that he hadn’t left her house yet.

If he knows Sans, though, there’s no way around this because, “I ALREADY PAID FOR IT.” Then, to soften the blow, “IT’S ONLY ONE LESSON. WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?”

“my leg could fall off again?”

“WELL, KEEP AN EYE ON THEM SO THEY DON’T RUN AWAY, THEN!” He starts building his plate- a slice of toast, several strips of turkey bacon, and his eggs (lightly salted). “I EVEN SPOKE WITH THE INSTRUCTOR ABOUT THIS- SHE SAID SHE’D PAIR YOU WITH SOMEONE EXPERIENCED SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THEM STEPPING ON YOUR TOES. JUST…” Sans hands him his plate, a small smile on his face, “JUST TRY TO HAVE FUN!”

Papyrus stuffs his face with eggs and tries to ignore how hard his brother is trying to make him happy.

Even though the idea of being over-dressed for this occasion was horrifying, Papyrus could only imagine how embarrassing it would be if he had ended up underdressed. When he was younger, he used to love fashion and his idea of what was ‘cool’ (usually, clothes that looked like they were covered in car decals), but he had been hard-pressed to find one dress shirt in his closet. Ultimately, he’d ended up borrowing one of Sans’ and tucking it into khakis he hadn’t worn in four years, which exposed his growth spurt and, incidentally, his thin tibias.

He walked into that auditorium room feeling like a class-a clown in the worst of ways. He couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad thing that no one turned to look at him when he’d walked in, and the indecision had sweat beading on his skull. Was it too late to just bail? Could Sans afford for him to just leave and lose the money on this lesson? It was ballroom dancing, so it couldn’t have been cheap- what if he’d spent that extra money he was going to use for his vacation days on this? What if-

“Hi! Are you Papyrus?” He lurches, feeling someone’s hand touch his shoulder, disrupting his running thoughts. “Oh! Sorry to startle you!”

“oh, uh, um, uh.” He can’t physically return his eye sockets to how they were normally. He’s suddenly very glad that Sans had pressed his shirt for him, because you’re wearing a sleek black outfit that compliments you so well that he has to tell himself not to stare. “yes. papyrus. that’s me. and, um, you are…?”

“I’m your dancing partner for today.” You say with a smile, and introduce yourself. “You’re a bit behind with the lessons, so everyone’s a bit more advanced. Your brother, um, mentioned that you’d be a bit uncomfortable with having more attention on you than necessary, so we’re going to be practicing separately from the group to get you caught up. Is that alright?”

“yup. that’s alright, yeah.” Stars, why can’t he make his mouth say something, anything, cooler than that? The light sweat on his face still hasn’t faded.

You chuckle, just a little, and reach out your hand. It takes him a moment to realize you wanted him to hold your hand. For the dancing. Duh. He hesitates, fitting his hand into your’s slowly, a wobbly smile reaching his face when you flex your fingers on his. “Wow! You’re real solid.” Staring down at your joined hands, it takes Papyrus a moment to realize why his soul is racing in his rib cage- this is the first time in months that anyone other than Undyne or Sans has touched him. Stars, he’s a mess. Taking his pause for more hesitation, you try to amend, “We won’t be doing too much dancing today- it’s mostly about helping you find some rhythm and sync up with me. Just, um, let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable?”

You’re really nice and he feels super bad about this entire situation- he can only imagine how frail his brother must’ve made him sound. “don’t worry- i know you’re just doing your job. if anything’s sour, i’ll let you know.” He hadn’t noticed that you were tense until he’d finished speaking and saw your shoulders relax.

“Phew, okay. I mean, it’d get really hard to get you into rhythm if you’re not comfortable, so that’s our first obstacle.” You sway forward and, automatically, Papyrus leans forward to make sure you don’t fall. He then realizes it was on purpose, to test if he could take your weight. “Okay, Papyrus, talk to me. What kind of music do you like?”

“for this kind of stuff? i’d say blues.” You rest your other hand on his shoulder, and indicate for him to do the same. He feels your shoulders raise with a small laugh.

“That was a joke, right? ‘Rhythm and blues’? That’s cute.” You say it so genuinely that it pulls a chuckle from him. You begin to sway side-to-side- initially, the both of you are mismatched, but he falls into step easily soon, matching your pace.

“hey, i got a few more up my button-down’s sleeve. you ever heard the one about the old duck comedian?”

You got a silly smile on your face, as if you could guess the punchline. “Nope, never have. Is it going to… quack me up?” Your fingers slide more securely towards his neck, and he finds that holding you under your arm and around your shoulder blade is far more comfortable than locking his elbow straight to hold onto you.

“nah, but he’ll bill you for it later.” The punchline gets a small laugh from you, shaking your head. “hey, how long have you been dancing?” The two of you had fallen into an almost-natural sway, gently rocking to-and-from. You take one step to your right, and he immediately follows with you. Papyrus can suddenly see the importance of being familiar with your partner’s body language.

“Oh, not too long. About two years- I did a competition a little while back. Not much came of it.” He misreads you and steps forward, stepping on your foot. You simply take a step back, pulling your foot out. “The instructor’s a friend of mine- I help the newbies out. And don’t worry about my shoes- I always wear a scuffed pair for the first-timers.” You wink, and it sends his soul fluttering.

“that so? you know, i’ve never really looked, but i’m pretty sure i have two left feet, so i might wear a hole down on those shoes.”

“Now, that’d be a feat!” You look so proud of your little joke, your smile crinkling the edges of your eyes. He laughs and, for some reason, that little joke makes the rest of the evening go so much faster. It’s mostly swaying to the beat and chatting idly, you moving him and him being moved until he finally gets it and he can almost predict your next steps. You shoot him a wicked grin, “So, did you notice?”

“notice what?” To make sure, he looks down at his feet to make sure they aren’t scuffing your shoes again. You giggle at that, so he tries to crack a joke, “now, are you saying that my two left feet are making a right?”

You snort. “Actually! I just taught you the box step, so I’d consider that a right! Here, watch your feet.” You pulled him back, stepped to your left, then forward, then back into resting position. It wasn’t anything impressive, but Papyrus was somewhat amazed that he hadn’t noticed the both of you moving in a perfect square. “So? Not as bad as you were expecting, huh?”

“no, not bad at all…” He responds, almost surprised himself. Forward, right, back, return. All with your hand resting on the slope of his shoulder, all with you smiling up at him. “huh.”

“Yeah, ‘huh’.” You laugh and wink at him again, as if all of this was some elaborate plan on your part, to lull him into a sense of security and trick him into dancing. “So, you want to refine it a bit?”

“yeah, i think that’d make us square.”

When Sans comes to pick him up, he can’t conceal the smile on his face. You wave to him from amongst teenagers reuniting with their parents, partners sharing water bottles and dabbing sweat from their foreheads, and your grin is so wide it forces your eyes shut. Papyrus watches you from the passenger seat of Sans’ economic Nissan, fingers drumming on his pressed pants’ leg. “SO. HOW WAS IT? DID YOU… SHAKE A LEG?”

The joke startles a laugh out of him, “you know what? i shook two of them, and they stayed attached this time.” Sans lets out a mock gasp of surprise. “it was a lot of fun, sans. honestly, i didn’t think i’d enjoy it, but… well, i guess part of it is the partner.”

As hard as he tries to ignore it, Sans is giving him an ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ grin in his peripheral. “WELL, I GUESS THAT OLD DANCING SKELETON JOKE ISN’T TRUE ANY MORE.” He turns to wink at his younger brother, “I’M GLAD YOU HAVE SOME BODY TO DANCE WITH.”

#papyrus x reader #undertale imagines #reader insert #undertale #underswap #my writing #Anonymous

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justsmilestuffhappens · 5 years

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So I’m live blogging this show to help keep track of this in case I wanna write fic later don’t judge me! Guess who just learned their phone can run google translate while watching shows in other languages? This Guy! Wish me luck.

The smoke monster from lost’s cousin is attacking a highlander?!

Ok so she just magically blasted him into a hole in the ground but you know what you don’t see? A BODY, how do you know he’s dead.

She’s taking smokey eye shadow way too seriously if you ask me.

Yeah just let that magic amulet drift away guess it won’t rust or rot.

Ngl if I didn’t know I’d think the kid was kirill but that would mess up the timeline since photographer doesn’t age between these scenes. Wouldn’t that be funny though. Like he found it as a child then gave it away only fit it to be given back.

You gotta admit the scenery is beautiful though and the theme songs nice but I need the lyrics.

Ah. Sorry but even if you had no choice doesn’t a person being in a well mess up the water. If he were in America he’d have a bullet wound possibly by now. Stranger on your lawn punch em. Don’t take amulets from strangers or work acquaintances.

So he’s like the punching bag of the offence and now their farm house. His nose is bleeding like he’s in an anime but gotta get that blood sacrifice material from somewhere right. Lol

Even if you’re his boss that’s a dick move making fun of him and not saying at least my bad yo just saying. Sweetie you deserve So much better than these rude people don’t let then get to you. Now’s your big chance at an article dude give it your all.

And out of the frying pan into the well. Wakes up in a well dazed and confused. Sure he sounds crazy but like how else would he be in your well like y'all didn’t see him get in and I’m guessing you lock your property here.

And they were roommates! She’s his sister but I’m wondering who’s older in canon because even if they’re real ages are diff canon can say fuck that

So like if any water is magic conductive I hope they don’t use a toilet. The fbi would wet their pants for this kind of ability.

So both them hate their jobs. Mood.

Sasha fake crying to win their argument. Acting.gif

They’re supposed to go traveling on vacation or looking for new jobs in s another place.

This poor guys gotta write about chupacabra. Let him write about what we wants for once. see what happens. ReSearch on the blood sucker. Sticky keys. Don’t break you’re laptop.

Fanfic writers in a nutshell. No writers ina nutshell.

Creepy magic is happening. This Warlock better pay their damn water bill istg. Wasting water in this house not on my watch. So like does the water have to be pure as drinkable or what. Sasha thinks they’ve got plumbing problems.

The editor wants him to lie and embellish statements on witnesses for the goat sucker. Kirill wants to use facts and be b real but editor isn’t having it.

Underground evacuation say what. Editor is making fun of kirill for looking like he stayed up all night writing which he if course did duh. We’ll hire someone else.

Oh no. His works due by tomorrow and he’s dead inside from getting shot down. Poor guy. Gonna drink away his sorrows. Did this attractive lady just call him an alien.

Don’t call yourself dumb kirill.

Is she actually interested or is she a hooker though? He went in for a kiss. He’s drunk. He’s shy. He’s leaving. He’s sorry.

Magic dogs are gonna eat you boy. Zen gardens are magic?

Oh no kirill is gonna be eaten by the clown from it now. He was swallowed whole by the sewers.

How rude. A light slap would do not pouring water on him. Hellshake his shoulder. At least their nice enough to share lunch.

He needs his passport. Sasha I’m in another provenance or country please help . So he’s not within walking distance or a car bus ride

He goes day drinking and ends up in another country go figure. They don’t have money for a plane ticket or whatever and he’s got no passport on him. He’s stuck.

He’s not wrong about saying they’re beating him up their son’s punch knocked him out and the dad waved a gun at him. He’s gotta get out before they decide to kill him. You in danger boy.

He’s paying them to use their phone. He’s gonna go broke. how much did he have left over from drinks at the bar though.

So do they think kirill is a freak that’s attracted to their well yet?

Arthur is the gay best friend people want but don’t deserve.

Is this guys nickname lemon or melon I can’t remember right now. He thinks his brother Max is calling and says he almost lost his virginity?

I still don’t get why Mac is going crazy. Is it heat exhaustion, did someone offend him, does he just have violent outburst without Control and like they don’t know about medicaion or he hasn’t gotten around to being tested, maybe it’s just bad writing for laughs i guess.

. Eat some chocolate dude, drink some water your not yourself when you’re angry. Max no chainsaw! Put that down. The knife meme upgraded

So he's like working at a construction site but he's trained in medicine. Is he the medic or just happens to know stuff and he’s working a job out of his field of profession.

Kirill is trying to find a switch to make atrap door in the well take him home. Your poor beautiful idiot it's magic man.

And water tentacles are a thing now. Some hentai? No hentai!

Cool culinary arts aunt is getting a call from her nephew max. Max is a bachelor well of course. He's asking her to pay for a tractor he burned down in a rage wtf dude. So is max trained doctor but not practicing?

He quit his job.? Aunt wants him to get married?

Kirill trapped in the well again. He's just trying to go home. He's diving under to search for a hole he came in though. You tried sweetie.

So the neighbor is a witch and is in on this. A barrier is up around the house to protect it. Well I hope so. 500 years!? how old are you two again then !

On to the next episode then.

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