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giowritess · 3 years

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minefields [tommy shelby]

MASTERLIST. | PEAKY BLINDERS.

❝ request: "Can you do fluff prompt 38. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen for Thomas Shelby at his wedding to the reader? Thank you!"

❝ pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

❝ plot: an aesthetical-y vision of how Tommy and reader got to where they are now.

❝ warnings: cursing, alcohol, age gap, mentions of war and Grace's death

❝ word-count: 837

❝ author’s note: hey guys! sorry to the anon who requested it that i took almost a year to write it lol. this is really short, i didn't put much thought into it since i wrote it while travelling. well, i reallyyyyy enjoyed this and, if you enjoy it too, i might expand it into a mini-series, following tommy and reader as they fall in love and eventually get married. so please share with me your thoughts!!! enjoy

this was beta'd by my darling ari — @amysteryspot. thank you and i love you so much! — if you're in search of a beta, you can make an order for free here at my blog: elysium editions, read the fixed post and learn how!

this was slighty inspired by the song "minefields" my faouzia and john legend.

i got inspired by @everyhowlmarksthedead's design of her posts, so credits to her <3

Happiness was thick in the air.

Everything was so perfect and in its righteous places. The blossoming flowers across the field, the soft spring breeze, the clear blue sky without a single cloud in sight. The sun was shining proudly, warming everyone up with its rays.

They couldn't have chosen a better day.

For once in Thomas's life, everything was working out.

Ever since France, he felt as if there was a dark cloud on his head and his alone. Making everything go wrong in the worst possible way. Murphy's law was always present in his life with the meaning that everything that could go wrong would go wrong.

It was no different with Grace. Tommy took so long to finally open up, to let her love seep in, so long to finally allow himself to open his heart and feel something. How good it felt to know there was someone out there who loved him despite everything.

But his small glimpse of happiness could only last for so long, and everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Tommy was trapped inside her memory. Trapped inside his anger and resentment for everything that happened that day, and the fact that he couldn't go back in time and save her. Offer his life instead of hers.

He took a vow then—Tommy wasn't risking his heart again, loving someone only to lose them all over again. It wasn't worth it because it would always end like this. He was way too old for this shit, anyway.

And then you came along, looking like nothing he'd ever seen before with your sweet floral dresses, your sharp sense of humor, and your soft giggle. You never looked at him as if he was someone bad, instead, you looked at him like the human being he was. You saw through every façade he put on, and that scared the hell out of him.

Tommy still remembered the day you met. You were lost in the betting shop, looking for Michael, standing out in your bright yellow dress. The two of you locked eyes but didn't speak. Surprisingly, you didn't look a slight bit intimidated by him—you simply didn't care. When Michael finally showed up, Tommy envied the way you hugged him.

Turned out you were an old childhood friend of his, from his life as Henry. Coincidentally or not, you were excellent with numbers as well. Better than anyone else at the betting shop, so you started sticking around more and more. Tommy always kept his distance, but also noticed the way you looked at him. Something he couldn't quite figure out glinting in your eyes:. Curiosity? Hate? Attraction?

Whenever you two had to talk, it was always as professional as ever. Thomas always had to remind himself you were sixteen years younger. You didn't deserve an old bastard like him, someone who was broken in so many ways. You deserved someone your age, someone who could give you a good, safe life he knew he couldn't. So he tried his best to look at you as just another secretary that would soon go away. But then your sweet smiles started to show up. The soft, unintentional touches that were actually full of intention from both sides. Then, he went from Mr. Shelby to Tommy in the blink of an eye, and from then on, he knew that he could try, but he would never get his heart back from you—it was entirely yours, already.

The first time you kissed was on a rainy night in his office. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to keep working with his whisky by his side and the warmth of the fireplace, hearing the lovely sounds of the raging storm outside. The sound of the lock startled him, making Tommy instantly reach for his gun.

Instead of meeting an enemy, he found you, drenched from the rain and freezing.

You were walking home from a drink with your friends when the rain surprised you. Since you were always more punctual than him, you had the key to his office, and there you found your refuge. You didn't expect to meet him, though.

Tommy made you sit by the fireplace and take off your drenched clothes, giving you his coat and handing you a glass of whisky. You caught him by surprise when you asked him to sit with you, but he surprised you more when he complied. And he surprised you, even more, when he finally kissed you.

That led to where you were now—about to get married, in front of your families in a simple ceremony on the field of flowers, your favorite place.

You caught his eye, admiring you, and smiled.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Tommy said before finally sliding the ring on your finger.

He knew this could go wrong at any moment, but you were worth the risk. He would fight for you, even if he had to cross minefields. You were his, and he was yours.

author’s note: remember to tell me what u think about turning it into a mini series!

#giowritess #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #fluff #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders fanfic

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lebritneeey · 3 years

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Second Chance (3/??)

inspired by don’t wanna cry, lie again and second life & a little idea from reply 1997 and 1988.

genre: romance. fluff, angst, love rivals etc lmao

pairing: y/n x ??? (svt)

a/n: hi guys! so my imagination started running after listening to dwc, lie again and second life on repeat lmao. i’ve always love reading angsty fics and so i came up with this series based on these three songs! disclaimer!! if there’s any similarity with other fics, it is coincidental, everything written here is based on my idea! no to plagiarism!! also, pics and gifs here are NOT mine! hope you guys enjoy this series i might be posting this on aff too so don’t be alarm if you come across it on aff! enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

What if you could get a second chance at love? What if it was the wrong time but the right person all along? Would you take it? This second chance?

Meet y/n, a 25 year old girl who had to revisit the city she once loved, Seoul. It was a city filled with both good and bad memories for her. When she left, she swore never to return. But here she is, back in Seoul, hoping to not run into a certain old flame that might reopen old wounds and remind her of how broken hearted she was back then.

chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

chapter 3: she’s back?

nov 2020, seoul, 1:39pm (KST)

Y/n’s eyes widened as she froze. Choyi and Hana gasped as they stared at the three familiar faces in front of them.

Seventeen Dino, Mingyu and Jeonghan were picking up their coffee orders for the rest of the group.

“Oh! Noona!” Dino and Mingyu chimed as they greeted her excitedly. They turned to Hana and Choyi, waving at them as well.

Jeonghan’s eyes was fixated on Y/n, his gaze turning soft.

“Hi, Y/n.. long time no see.”

////

The members sat down with the girls as they waited for their orders. Jeonghan took a seat opposite Y/n who anxiously drank her coffee while silence filled the air.

“..long time no see noonas!” Dino broke the silence. Mingyu joined in, “yeah, it’s been a few years!” Hana broke into a smile, nodding. “Yes, it’s been a while.. Heard Seventeen has been getting first place recently! Congratulations!” Choyi agreed, “This year is really you guys’ year! Congrats!”

While the four of them chatted away, Jeonghan constantly fixed his gaze onto Y/n. He gently asked, “how have you been?” Y/n looked up from her drink as she forced a smile. “I’m.. good. You?”

Jeonghan chuckled, “well you know, busy as always. We’re preparing for our upcoming tour.” Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her drink again.

“You still looked the same from the last time I saw you. Beautiful always.” Y/n blinked in surprise, cheeks turning slightly red at the statement. She said nothing and continued looking at her coffee. Silence filled the air once more.

////

“Ah, lunch time is over, we gotta go now.” Hana said as the girls stood up to leave. “Aw, that’s sad. But we had fun catching up noona!” Dino chirped as he waved them goodbye with Mingyu beside him doing the same. Just as Y/n was about to follow them out, Jeonghan gently grabbed her wrist. “Y/n!” She turned and stared at him, brows raising.

He let go and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Um.. how long are you going to be in Korea for? We should all catch up soon, the rest of the guys missed you and they would be delighted to see you again.”

Y/n pursed her lips together, hesitating. “If I’m free.” She gave the three guys a small smile before leaving the cafe.

Jeonghan sighed as he watched her leave. Damn it, I never thought I would miss her this much.

////

“Hyung.. should we tell the rest that we saw y/n again?” Dino asked in their van. The three were on the way back to the company with their coffee orders in their hands.

“I don’t know.. We need to prepare for the tour soon, y/n’s return might affect some of them.” Jeonghan rubbed his face, feeling a tad stressed.

“I think we should tell them. What if they bumped into y/n on the streets again like today?” Mingyu chipped in. “Aigoo hyung, Seoul isn’t that small you know.” Dino shooked his head as he replied Mingyu who pouted and continued texting on his phone.

Jeonghan stared outside the window as he sighed once more. If fate allows it, then we will all meet again. He thought as the car ride continued in silence all the way back to the company.

////

Flashback to march 2017, 3:53pm, PLEDIS building

Choyi, Hana and Y/n looked around in awe as they walked around the building of PLEDIS Entertainment, home to Seventeen, NU’EST and After School. Hana’s boyfriend had invited the girls over for lunch as he’s busy helping SVT prepare for their album comeback.

“Never in my life would I expect myself to be in freaking PLEDIS building where it’s the home to Seventeen!!!!!” Choyi whispered excitedly as she did a little dance while they were finding the practice room that Joohyeon was in. “Please calm down Choyi or else we’re gonna get kicked out for disturbance!” Hana shooked her head, Y/n chuckled as she follow the pair behind.

“Room 3.. room 3.. ah here it is,” Hana pointed at the practice room they found. The girls peeked through the windows.

Seventeen members were in formation while Joohyeon was in front showing them what seemed to be a choreography for their next title song. “Can’t believe I’m getting the very first look at the upcoming comeback dance..” Choyi sighed with pleasure as she fixated her eyes through the window panels.

“Okay, let’s take ten boys!” Joohyeon announced as he spotted Choyi’s face planted against the window. He walked over to the door and welcomed the girls. “Hi oppa” Hana gave him a hug while Y/n and Choyi waved at the members.

“Oh, hello, nice to see you all again!” Dokyeom waved as the rest of the members followed suit while they grabbed some towels and water bottles.

“Sorry to disturb but we brought some lunch for all of you!” Hana announced as Joohyeon took the bags she was carrying. “YES WE HAVE FREE FOOOOOD” Dino and Hosni jumped up and down pumping their fists with excitement. Y/n beamed, feeling a little surprised by their energy even after what seemed like hours of dance practice.

Jun ran up to Y/n after seeing her with two big bags of lunchboxes, “here let me help you with that!” Y/n gave him an appreciative smile and thanked him. “We didn’t speak much backstage that day but nice to meet you, I’m Jun! Are you a Korean by the way?”

Y/n shooked her head, “I’m from Singapore.” Jun nodded, mouth forming an ‘o’. “Wow but your Korean is good! Wait.. so does this mean you can speak chinese?”

“Yup, 我可以说中文 (I can speak chinese)“ Jun got even more excited and started conversing in chinese with Y/n as they sat down on the floor with the others as they took out the lunchboxes.

“Are.. those two speaking in Chinese?” Seungcheol asked The8 as he glanced at the pair. The8 looked over and nodded, “Y/n’s from Singapore I think so she’s able to speak chinese if I’m not wrong”

Seungcheol tilted his head as he watched Y/n laughing at something Jun was saying. Wonder what they’re talking about that is so funny.. He pouted slightly as he started eating.

“Yah Jihoon ah, where’s your Polaroid camera! This calls for some fun picture taking!” Jeonghan asked. Woozi walked over to his bag and took out the camera. Y/n noticed the Polaroid model, “oh is that the latest model?” Woozi turned to her and nodded. Y/n stood up and walked over looking at it. “Can I see it? I’ve been saving up for one cause my previous polaroid broke!” Woozi handed his camera over with a small smile.

Y/n clapped her hands enthusiastically as she gently held the camera. “Can I test it out?” Woozi chuckled as he gave her the go ahead. What Y/n did next was unexpected to the boy — she pointed the camera in front of him and snapped a pic, “say cheese!” Woozi stared blankly at the camera with surprised as he frozed. Did she just.. took a picture of me? Suddenly?

When the polaroid picture started developing, Y/n giggled as she showed Woozi. “What’s with the blank look!” Woozi stared at Y/n, feeling captivated by her adorable action. He blushed as he rubbed his neck sheepishly, “I was just surprised that’s all..” Y/n grinned as she return the camera to him. “I think I’ll get this model, thank you Jihoon!” Woozi blushed even more as she calls him by his actual name.

“Hyung, I can help us take a few pics!” Mingyu walked over, taking the camera from the flustered boy. “Woah, why are your ears so red?” Woozi shooked his head and passed the camera to Mingyu before returning to his food, “nothing, here ya go. Don’t drop it or else I’ll come after you.”

Mingyu sighed as he went around taking pictures of the entire gang. “Say kimchi everyone!!!!”

///

Nov 2020, choyi’s apartment, 4:19pm (KST)

Y/n dropped her bag onto the sofa as she plopped on it. Choyi walked to the fridge to get a bottle of soju. Y/n looked on quizzedly, “isn’t it a bit too early for alcohol?”

Choyi took two soju glasses and sat on the sofa beside Y/n. “it’s for you.” Y/n raised an eyebrow, looking at the soju, “for what?”

“In case you wanna talk about what happened out there just now?” Choyi poured the soju into the glasses and handed one to Y/n, who took it begrudgingly. “There’s no need for any talk Cho.”

“It’s been what.. two years? I just thought seeing them might you know, sparked some past memories again” Choyi shrugs as she downs her glass. “I’m okay. It’s in the past and I’ve moved on. Really, I’m fine Cho” Y/n gave a tight smile as she refilled her glass.

“Besides, I won’t be staying in Korea for long anyway. I’m just here for work and work only, after which I’m gonna head home.” Y/n took a shot of soju as she let the bitterness taste linger around her throat hoping she would let it distract her from the heavy feeling around her chest.

“... Do you still have his number saved?” Y/n blinked a few times at Choyi’s question. She would be lying if she say she has already deleted them. The truth is, she still has it. After all these years, she still has it saved onto her phone, she just couldn’t bear to delete it. All she did was renamed it to “Ignore” just in case he calls again, but he never did.

“… nope I deleted it the day I left.” Silence filled the air as Y/n took another shot of her drink.

“You know.. the guys were shocked and sad when they heard you left without saying goodbye” Choyi added as she refilled their glasses.

“I heard.. that he was upset too” Choyi continued a she took a shot.

Y/n paused as she reached for her glass. He was upset? What right did he have to be upset?

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phoenixtakaramono · 3 years

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Does Bing gē Have Descendants in ‘The Untold Tale?’

This topic has come up a few times since The Untold Tale takes place in the PIDW universe (post-Bingge vs Bingmei extra), I figured I might as well compile and archive my official answer here for me to refer my AO3 readers to in the future for convenience’s sake. I hope everyone doesn’t mind. :) I’m always happy to answer questions!

TL;DR

Q: Will we see Bing gē having fathered children with his harem of 600 or so wives in TUT?

A: For TUT, the answer is a definite “no.” There were a lot of factors which’d contributed to my decision. I’ll try to explain my reasoning down below.

Context

In PIDW, it is canon that Luo Binghe has a bountiful number of descendants with his harem of 600-or-so wives. It is a detail that has been mentioned even in ch1 of SVSSS and in ep1 of the donghua.

(SVSSS Excerpt - ch1)

(SVSSS donghua - ep1)

I like to plan things ahead of time. So from very early on, I knew this would be something I would have to decide on whether or not to address when I’d finally decided to expand TUT from just a prologue into a full-blown story. And after contemplating it, I decided against adding children into the story. It is because 1) it would make the situation more complicated, and 2) it would take TUT in a different direction that wouldn’t be fun for me to write.

I’m a very decisive writer, meaning when I make my mind up about something, chances are I won’t change my mind. This is because I would have already planned it into my plot outline, which means changing a decision would require me to change other details in the other chapters I have planned for that story. (I’m typically not a spontaneous writer; I try not to write spontaneously because when you’re a writer who rotates through multiple WIPs with different characters across different genres or writing styles, you inevitably have writer’s block because you probably won’t remember all the ideas or the direction you had whenever you return back to a different WIP. To reduce this shortcoming, it helps me personally to have a plot outline. This way I can return to any WIP, read my notes and then transcribe them into legible paragraphs, find a way to transition between the story beats I have to hit for that chapter, and then eventually post the final draft to AO3 when I feel it’s ready.)

Having made a decision, I knew I had to set it up in TUT and give a “reasonable explanation in-story.” Hence, in ch2, we see:

(Excerpt I - ch2)

Basically the set-up is TUT takes place post-Bingge vs Bingmei, but between “the third or fourth book” of the hypothetical PIDW webnovel series aka before Airplane wrote the fanservicey chapters where the luckier of LBH’s wives give birth to children during the harem drama plots and the children are probably rarely, if ever, mentioned again in the story as a lot of stallion novels tend to do.

(Excerpt II - ch2)

(Excerpt III - ch2)

Contrarian Tendencies

You know the saying: Monkey see, monkey do? In my case, it’s monkey see, monkey do not do.

A little fun fact about me as a writer: if I have already seen a fanfic where someone has already written a concept or idea into their story, chances are I will just avoid it entirely in my own stories. I don’t know why this aversion exists, but I’m assuming it’s because of my counterculture hipster inclinations and an intrinsic fear of plagiarism which has been beaten into all of our skulls since adolescence. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people’s works. Technically everything’s been done before in writing so, as a writer, a good rule of thumb is to always try to give it your own unique spin on things. So for me, my brain somehow interpreted this a step further. This is a reason why I try to avoid reading stories from whichever fandom my WIP is from during the writing process of updating a fic, because this is how I get influenced. Once I see an idea or interpretation from another fanfiction, it influences me to not want to write it into my own. This is a very strong unconscious impulse for me. I guess this is just the neurons in my brain’s thinking that this way, it won’t be something my readers will have read before and the story idea will come across as different or fresh, and mine. In a way this is also how I show respect for fanfiction writers in the same fandom—by being inspired to not be inspired, ha. I like to think every story in the world serves a niche audience, so seeing a diverse range of originality and interpretations in a fandom is a good thing. This is also how I feel when I am able to identify certain popular tropes or depictions or patterns in a fandom; 99% of the time, it makes me feel a compulsion to “go against the grain” or write the opposite. For example, you have no idea how long it took me to come around the idea of incorporating the fanon “A-Yuan” into TUT. However cute it is, the moment it dominated the fandom (well, “dominated” is an exaggeration; it’s more like I’ve seen enough, especially in the Original LBH/ SY | SQQ tag), my gut reaction was to nope out of using it. But after seeing a lot of comments in my inbox with readers affectionately calling SY “A-Yuan,” I’d contemplated it for a long time and it wasn’t until ch4 that I decisively decided that yes, I can have Bing gē calling SY “A-Yuan” in TUT—but it has to be at the right moment for maximum dramatic and emotional impact. (See this thread that started it all. And this is the small sneak peek I wrote where LBH will call SY that for the first time.) <- This is the rare 1% where I actually conformed to what’s popular.

In this case, when I finally decided to expand the prologue into a full-blown story, coincidentally I had just recently read a good Binggeyuan (Bingyuan) fanfic which featured a kidnapped Shen Yuan interacting with Bing gē’s harem and LBH’s children/descendants. I’d liked their portrayal and even thought the children were cute. <- However, with me having reading this, the problem came up: I felt the familiar stubbornness in me rearing its head. So knowing myself, if I had included children, it is very likely the direction that I would have gone down for TUT would have been the opposite. To further complicate matters, you have to keep in mind the kind of writer I am. I tend to like grounding stories with a semblance of realism, no matter if the genre is pseudohistorical fantasy, romance, sci-fi, etc. And this writer has seen and read quite a few harem and palace intrigue Chinese dramas/ premises.

For further context, in those types of “historical” C-dramas^, in that sort of environment which fosters scheming, competition, jealousy, etc, it is almost expected to see heirs aka children aka descendants harmed along with the women. Innocent parties are often victims in these sorts of cutthroat premises, to underscore the underlying message the show or novel wishes to present. (See Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace. See Yanxi Palace. See The Legend of Haolan. See Nirvana in Fire. See The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage. Etc.) And me being me, this would be the direction I would take. Remember, while TUT is meant to emulate a legitimate danmei C-novel reading experience in a fantasy world, I do drop pseudohistorical and cultural Easter eggs into the story. So trust me when I say you would not like the direction TUT would have gone down in, had I made LBH have children with his harem. I mean, theoretically yes, we could’ve seen endearing children characters from me, but you would have also seen me addressing a lot of the baggage that comes with (see Comment III Excerpt down below).

The situation with dissolving Bing gē’s harem is already complicated enough. As his romance with Shen Yuan develops, I didn’t want to have an additional headache thinking about how to address the issue of LBH having children already. Divorces in a pseudohistorical context is already a heavy topic—even more so when it’s divorces with children in the mix. Naturally I will still have SY and LBH eventually discuss the matter of legitimate heirs since LBH will essentially become the Sacred Ruler of all Three Realms and it’s a traditional precedent for an emperor to bed his empress, noble consort, and imperial concubines until he has his heirs (plural, because the rate of mortality was high in ancient China). In TUT’s case, at that point in the story SY will remind LBH that he’s essentially an immortal sovereign so there isn’t any need for an heir unless he wishes to retire. Furthermore, he will inform LBH that he could set a new precedent since he’s already different from the other emperors from history (with him being of half-Heavenly Demon and half-human cultivator lineage); as long as LBH is fully aware of all perspectives of the situation, he doesn’t necessarily need to conform to all traditions if this is something he really feels strongly about. But this future conversation(s) is likely the extent of it.

But wait, you say, what about a certain someone who’s going to be transmigrated as an imperial crown prince? Isn’t he going to be in that sort of vicious upbringing? <- Yes. But that’s an entirely seperate matter. In a way, since I’ve decided Bing gē will not have had any children or descendants in TUT, with Airplane, this now presents an opportunity for me to show the consequences of being one of the many children of an emperor with a harem of women vying for one man’s attention—and the power struggle that’d ensue in this kind of environment. It’s an interesting What-If parallel, if you think about it.

AO3 Comments

Although these are just small excerpts from replies I’ve written before, it’s nice and orderly to just compile them here for everyone since these will be buried underneath all the comments as TUT updates:

(Comment I- ch3)

(Comment II- ch4)

(Comment III- ch4)

Because of seeing comments that have asked me for my thoughts on whether or not I will include LBH’s children, I’ve had so much fun seeing theories thrown around: from LBH’s blood parasites being able to control conception, to someone’s headcanon about LBH being a hybrid and all that entails scientifically (think: mules). I will say in TUT, it’s more the former since in PIDW he’s supposed to have descendants; we’re pretending Bing gē doesn’t have any yet (and now definitely won’t, especially after having heard SY’s “prophecy”) because he subconsciously does not want children due to certain fears, trauma, etc. And his Heavenly Demon’s “blood parasites” (blood manipulation) is a convenient story device to explain why no wife has gotten pregnant yet.

I hope this explanation makes sense! Mainly I just wanted to have this archived on tumblr so that I have this post to refer to moving forward.

On a side note: especially since ch4 had been posted, quite a few people have actually mentioned they’ve read my replies to other comments and/or I have seen different people having hopped onto other readers’ comment threads (for example, imagine my pleasant surprise when I saw a reader you lovely person, you helpfully jumping in to respond to another reader’s questions about TUT, and their answers were actually aligned with what I would’ve answered!), so it’s always such a thrill whenever I see this level of engagement happening. I can’t explain why, but seeing this happening is just so cute to me. It really makes this writer feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

#svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #the untold tale #phoenixtakaramono #ask #technically not an ask #but i like to categorize it there #I mainly wrote this lengthy explanation on tumblr #bc I wanted to link this as ref #anytime someone asks me in the future regarding LBH’s kids #lol it’s actually not cinnabar pills hidden in a bracelet #it’s some sort of seeds which supposedly stopped concubines from being pregnant #I discovered this when I rewatched Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace #Do you all notice you have a unique writing syntax/ style #that’s how I can identify that you’re all diff ppl in the comments #one time an anon guest wrote something for G&G #and in the comment thread as another guest anon they supposedly agreed with the prev anon #in that case it was obvious it was the same person pretending to be another guest anon #and I can tell because their writing syntax/ voice is identical #which is why I’m so pleasantly surprised to see this phenomenon in the SVSSS fandom #you all have diff writing syntaxes #seeing you all interact with each other’s comments or my comments to other comments #is just such a delight ahhhhhh #I love the SVSSS community #you guys are so warm and welcoming

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maysbanks · 4 years

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she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)

due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️

summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.

( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )

Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.

You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.

Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.

You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.

You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.

You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.

And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.

JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.

It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.

You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.

On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.

"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."

And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.

You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.

JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"

JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."

Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.

"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."

Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.

"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."

His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.

"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."

JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."

You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."

He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."

It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.

"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."

And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.

You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.

He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.

It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.

The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.

"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"

He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.

Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.

"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.

Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."

JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.

JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."

You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.

"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"

His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.

"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."

JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.

"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."

He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.

When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."

You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."

"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.

"You're an idiot, Maybank."

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neondrawsthethings · 3 years

Text

Uhm... Hey everyone lol. And welcome to my Danny Phantom & Flynn Fenton story.

I am alive, I’ve just been so busy with personal stuff and college. I mostly wanted to post this because I am an avid fan of Danny Phantom and I absolutely wanted to talk about the video Butch put out a few days ago with Danny having a “mysterious older brother.”

This has actually inspired me to write for the first time in a millennia and while I’m a bit late to the party and very nervous, I really wanted to make my own version of the story on top of expressing my opinions. So here we go!

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I don’t like Butch like most people in the Phandom but I just want to preface this by saying that I think that his idea for a mysterious older sibling for Danny isn't a bad one, but the execution of it was very poor. The issues I mostly have of it is that it messes up some consistencies with the show, it has plot holes and instead of making Jack and Maddie slightly incompetent with people's safety, it makes them out to be negligible criminals.

A Summary Of The Original Story:

The original story went that they had 3 kids, Flynn Fenton (who's age was not disclosed but he might have been about 10), Jazz Fenton who was 4 at the time and Danny who was 2. Jack and Maddie had created a uncompleted Ghost Portal that Flynn had turned on, wandered too close to when it somehow started working and was subsequently grabbed by a mysterious ghost from the other end. The portal suddenly stopped working afterwards. Jack and Maddie found out about this after reviewing security footage in the lab, which they coincidentally didn't have when Danny had turned into a ghost.

After the whole incident, they hid the fact that Jazz and Danny had an older brother for years and take their time getting the portal to work again so they could save their son. Years pass and Jazz suddenly has a dream about Flynn and eventually confronts their parents over what happened and they tell their kids everything.

As for Flynn, Butch goes off in a tangent about a ghost who was responsible for the uprising and rebellion against Pariah Dark. I forget her name, but it was edgy and she honestly looks like a cartoon concept design for Thor's sister in Ragnarok, but if she had a Spiderman appeal to her.

Anyway, once Pariah was sealed away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, she wanted to rule the ghost zone fairly and with justice. Or something. However chaos ensued now that the ghosts were free to do as they please without Pariah's wrath hanging over their heads. Over time, trying to keep balance in the Ghost Zone took a toll on “Thor’s sister” and she one day stumbled across and open portal and saw Flynn on the other side. She essentially kidnapped him and raised him to be her soldier for justice. Like the Winter Soldier.

The logic for this was that humans have ghost powers in the Ghost Zone. I mean, yeah they can fly and phase through things, but it was never actually mentioned whether or not humans had super strength in it. But go off Butch. Then he goes on to explain that in some reference to the Ant Man movie, over time Flynn just sort of gained powers as he became "one with the Ghost Zone" and became a powerful protector called "Exodus." Then Fartman went on to mention it was a reference for a machine in the Halloween episode.

So yeah, eventually Danny finds him and they've kind of got that dynamic of "I think you're the bad guy in this situation" when they aren't and duke it out until Danny eventually convinces this dude they're related. Oh yeah and Flynn had no memories of his human life.

Gonna be honest, I might have misremembered a few things but it’s honestly close enough.

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The issues I have with this concept are as follows:

⦁ Jack and Maddie have essentially been the direct cause for 3 people being harmed (and sorta killed) in some way by their Ghost Portal experiments. This doesn't even border on negligible at this point. It basically is, especially considering they should have learned not to let Danny near their experiments after losing their first son.

⦁ They come off as criminals considering they hid all traces and knowledge of Flynn from Danny, Jazz and most likely all family members and didn't even report his disappearance. They even had cameras in their lab and that honestly puts across the idea that they disabled them in case one of their other kids gets hurt.

⦁ There's already a ghost who considers himself to be the law of the Ghost Zone and it would appear that Butch forgot he created Walker for that exact purpose.

⦁ The female character who was responsible for putting away Pariah Dark honestly isn't well fleshed out. She can imprison the most powerful ghost in existence but is essentially useless at stopping lesser ghosts from causing chaos? Even if she did have help, how exactly was she capable of such a feat to begin with?

⦁ This messes with the cannon a bit considering there are some plot holes that can't really mix well with the established story.

I saw some of these concerns were also mentioned by the Phandom. Giving Butch the benefit of the doubt here, I don't hate the concept but I think it needs to be worked on more. I've read about what some people's opinions were and at least the ones that gave real critiques had some good ideas. Like maybe making the sibling either Jack's or Maddie's and it would have helped with their obsession of ghosts.

I have my own plot hole filled ideas with how this could maybe be told better. I'm not a storywriter and this might come off a little edgy, but man I love coming up with ideas. So here's mine:

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My Story:

After the incident with Vlad, Maddie and Jack decide that their ghost hunting days are over and resolve to live a normal family life. They have their first son Flynn, who had solidified their decision to quit ghost hunting and settle. After a few years, Jazz and Danny were eventually born and it seemed they had the perfect life.

One day while vacationing in a wooded area (location can change), Flynn had wandered not too far from the camp. Then a flash of light suddenly burst in front of him and he could see a whole other world. Jack and Maddie were alerted to the sound and ran towards where it came from. They gasped at what they saw and knew exactly what Flynn was staring into; a ghost portal.

Before they could yell for him to stay away, a hand suddenly reached out and pulled Flynn in, the portal immediately closing as soon as he entered. Maddie and Jack were devastated. No one believed them when they explained what happened to their son, and this incident became the catalyst for them to start their ghost hunting careers again.

They worked tirelessly for years to get the portal to work again. Jazz had eventually chalked up their obsession to being a coping mechanism because they couldn't handle the guilt of losing Flynn and were in denial that he was gone. Danny was more of a social outcast than ever because people assumed his parents had something to do with Flynn's disappearance.

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Now with regards to why Flynn was pulled into the Ghost Zone, I would actually like to think Clockwork played a hand in it. I watched the Blood of Zeus recently and I kind of wanted to play around with an idea that inspired this next part.

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Clockwork knows that Dark Dan was never going to stay imprisoned forever. The fact that he still exists, even outside of time, was an omen he needed to heed. So maybe he meddled with a few future possibilities. Maybe he tried to get Maddie and Jack to realise Ghost Hunting was something they shouldn't mess with after hurting Vlad, which led to their decision to settle for a family. Maybe... He wanted Flynn to exist for a purpose.

He was the one who pulled Flynn into the Ghost Zone. Clockwork told Flynn that he would be the key to saving the future from Dark Dan, but withheld information on who he really was until he was old enough. He taught him everything he needed to know on how to defeat Dark Dan and trained him over the years in combat.

Going off the idea that Danny is kind of really average in comparison to the rest of his family, Flynn is a technological prodigy. He created weapons that Vlad could only dream of creating and can utilise technology that puts Tucker to shame. Once he was old enough, Clockwork finally revealed who Dark Dan was and how he came to be.

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As for the fighting portion of everything, I'm honestly not too sure how I could go about writing it. Obviously they team up to destroy Dan for good and Flynn gets reunited with everyone. He might actually prefer to stay in the Ghost Zone and be Clockwork's assistant. Idk.

This is as far as I can go with regards to the story and it was super fun to write. Hope you guys enjoyed reading it too!

#danny phantom #flynn fenton #dp #flynn #I've never posted a real story online before #have mercy on me #lol #and I gotta say that the original story really felt attention grabby on Butch's part

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

#whump #whump blog #Mystics by Alpaca #writing #writing blog #Lyrem #chapter one #magical whump #nonbinary character #whumpblr #a little funny

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leomitchellart · 4 years

Text

So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself.

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed.

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour.

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year.

- The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand.

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no.

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for.

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead. Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves.

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine.

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

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puddingheads · 4 years

Text

Eternity || Nishinoya Yuu.

In which the small things stay with you, forever.

Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, post time skip spoilers

Word count: ~2.4k

Note: I'm finally writing a fluff fic, but I can't seem to tear myself away from angst. It's extremely minimal here though, and there's a good ending! Special thanks to @rollinguuuthunda for inspiring me to write this (since you rEFUSE to read my angst fics >:()!! And yes, I’m bullying Noya in the summary since he’s shorter than me.

—

“Nishinoya, you got hurt again?” You nagged, firmly tugging at his arms to reveal the bruises littered on his skin. They were big and angry and purple; just the sight of them was enough to make you wince.

“They don’t hurt at all, they’re battle scars!” Nishinoya, ever so cheerful and optimistic, beamed brightly at you. In the two years of knowing him, you’d never seen him bothered by the countless injuries his position inflicted on him.

“Sit down,” settling on the floor cross legged, you patiently waited for him to heed your words. There was no room for disagreement, Nishinoya knew perfectly well that you took his well being very seriously.

He never really understood why, though. He never knew why you would grimace at the new bruises on his arms, or force him into his jacket after every match, or ask if he’d eaten his lunch every time you bumped into him in the halls. (Also, he never noticed how you always coincidentally had a protein bar with you when he would say no.)

“They really don’t hurt, I’m fine!” Nishinoya said, but still sat down despite the reluctance in his voice. Why did you always have ointment in your bag anyway? Compared to him, you barely ever got hurt.

“They will if the ball keeps hitting them,” You retort, huffing quietly while you rubbed the ointment onto the purple spots on his arm. “Stop resisting.”

For the first time, he decided to take notice of your knitted brows and slight pout. Why did you seem so upset? You weren’t the one getting hurt, he’d already assured you that he was fine, and you didn’t have to care so much about him. The subtle look of concern everyone else gave was already more than enough, why did you have to go the extra mile?

And for the first time, the dots in his head started to connect. Maybe, you were worried for him. Maybe, you hated to see him injured as much as he hated to see you frown. Maybe, you liked him as much as he liked you.

“Thanks,” Nishinoya mumbled, all his usual confidence replaced by demureness.

“You’re welcome,” your voice was as soothing as ever, the immense concentration in your eyes stirring something in his chest.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The ache in his thighs, the leftover adrenaline in his veins, the thumping of his heart; everything was drowned out by the featherlight touch of your fingers on his skin.

At that moment, the weight of his arm limp in your hand and the coolness of the ointment on your fingertips told of the trust he had in you. In the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt his new vow—”I’ll take better care of myself to not worry you.”

And at that moment, all he could feel was your fingers rubbing comforting circles on his arm and your silent plea—”I don’t want you to hurt, ever.”

ii.

After days and weeks and months of the push and pull game you had engaged Nishinoya in, he finally scored a date with you. It was in the middle of summer when you agreed to meet him at the park, where the summer festival was held.

Coincidentally, it was the day of the Star Festival, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all on purpose. Only Nishinoya would choose such a day, the only day Vega and Altair were allowed to meet, to be the day of your first date. (Well, if it was on purpose, you sure hoped that you’ll still see him the next day. You didn’t want the first date to be the last, after all.)

“Noya, you’re late,” you chastised, watching him jog over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sorry,” he laughed, tugging you along to the stands. Immediately, you were swept up by his antics and found yourself having a blast. It was just like him to easily infect you with joy and laughter, just like him to make you forget all your worries.

Spending time with him always felt like a magic carpet ride, bringing you to new places you never knew existed and making you feel emotions you never knew you could feel. It was intoxicating, and soon you found yourself drunk off the dream-like atmosphere.

After hanging your slip of paper with your wish on the wish tree, you turned to Nishinoya. For a second, it felt like a scene from one of your many dreams was playing right before your eyes. His hands firmly pressed together in a fervent prayer for his wish to come true, his brows knitted in the concentration you only ever saw when he was on the court, his lips pursed in unspoken yearning.

Silently, you wondered what he was wishing so desperately for. What more could he ask for, if he already had everything? What could the wish tree bring that he couldn’t attain with his effort?

(He wanted a lot of things, and all of them were related to you.)

His eyes instantly met yours when they finally opened. As if his wish had already been granted, a brilliant smile spread across his face. He fidgeted a little, hands searching himself for an almost-forgotten gift.

“For you,” he beamed, holding out a single forget-me-not. Some of its petals had already fallen from being jostled around throughout the evening, yet it still stood tall and proud, all its yellow and blue on display.

Taking it graciously, you could barely find the words to express the loud drumming of your heart in your chest. Before you could embarrass yourself with a haphazard word of thanks, a gust of wind blew.

The swaying strips of paper on the tree behind Nishinoya painted a meteor shower around his silhouette, adorning his already ethereal form with an otherworldly halo. Along with the wind was the smell of your shampoo, and almost as if he were one of Pavlov’s dogs, his heart instantly started racing and the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

In the wind was you, and in his lungs was the final push for him to fall down the rabbit hole. In the familiar scent of you was your wordless gratitude—”You give me a reason to smile.”

And in the wind was him, and held tight in your hands was the embodiment of his adoration. Under the full moon and colourful lights of the festival, no words were needed. In the sweet scent of the forget-me-not was his shy confession—”You make my heart pound, yet put me at so much ease.”

iii.

“I’m home,” you called out just as you stepped into your apartment and met Nishinoya’s eyes. Instantly, you recognised the nervous glint in his eyes, one you only saw when he broke something after getting carried away with Tanaka. “What did you do now, Yuu?”

“It’s nothing bad!” He was quick to defend himself, even quicker to unload the bags from your tired arms. Ever since you started officially dating Nishinoya, him being in your house on the weekends became a common occurrence.

Following him into your usually pristine kitchen, shock smacked you over the top of your head and sent you stumbling. It was a disaster zone, the counters littered with broken eggs and flour, and a mountain of dirty bowls in the sink. The oven dinged, bringing your attention to a suspicious mound inside.

“Were you baking?” You frowned, examining the crinkled top of the cake.

“Well, it’s our anniversary, and you like cake,” Nishinoya mumbled, pointedly staring at his creation. It wasn’t that bad, but it definitely made you hesitate to have a taste. “It’s your favourite kind, I’m sure you’ll like it!”

In his childlike confidence, you found yourself sighing in defeat. There was no way you could refuse when he was looking at you with so much hope in his eyes.

“Looks like we have two cakes to eat then,” you smiled fondly at him, pulling out a small box from one of the bags you brought home. “I got a slice from the bakery down the street.”

“We must be telepathic!” He exclaimed, excitedly unboxing the store bought slice and setting it next to his home baked one. The stark difference in appearance and his unabashed pride in his cake was hilarious yet endearing.

Deciding not to judge a book by its cover, you coaxed yourself to taste a fallen piece from the fruit of Nishinoya’s labour. Simultaneously, Nishinoya took a bite of the cake you had bought.

In the sweetness of the frosting and the fluffiness of the sponge cake, all Nishinoya could taste was your bashful devotion—”I only want the best for you.”

And in the saltiness of the crumbly cake(he must’ve gotten the salt and sugar mixed up again), all you could taste was his bold resolve—”I’ll do anything for you.”

iv.

“I want to travel the world.” Your fingers that were deftly twirling his hair came to a stop at Nishinoya’s sudden declaration.

“Do you have the money to go?” You asked, mind starting to wander. You’d always known that Nishinoya was a bird meant to fly, always known that Japan was unable to contain his huge dreams, always known that he would jump at any opportunity to explore the unknown. Yet, hearing it outright caught you off guard and got you worrying.

He was still young, still inexperienced, still naive. You saw these as reasons he should stay, he saw them as reasons he should go; for you were careful and he was carefree.

“I have a plan.” He replied, resolution strong in his voice. The confidence he usually emitted was now unable to reassure you, unable to drive away the darkness called unease from your heart.

“How long will you be gone?” With all your being, you wished that he would laugh and tell you it was a joke, like he always did.

“As long as it takes,” shrugging, he shifted to meet your eyes. In the intensity of his gaze, you knew he wasn’t joking. He was dead serious about it, and nothing you said would make him stay.

It wasn’t the first time you heard about his dream of travelling the world and experiencing everything he could, it wasn’t the first time you felt this helpless, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you feared his departure.

Somewhere deep in your heart was fear—a lot of fear. You were afraid of holding him back, afraid of watching him leave and never return, afraid of being away from him. But the day when you had to stop running away from the fear was bound to come; it was inescapable.

“I’m not breaking up with you, of course,” as if he could hear your fears, he continued. “We’ll keep in contact. We may be physically apart, but I’ll never leave. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“We are.” You said, mustering all the conviction you could find. Whether it was to convince him or to convince yourself, you weren’t sure.

It took weeks of preparation and arrangements before Nishinoya was able to fly off. You had contemplated if you should send him off, since you were sure to break down in tears once he stepped through the departure gates, but decided to go to the airport anyway. All for seeing him just a little more.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Nishinoya muttered, face buried in your neck as he pulled you in a tight embrace. You hoped the strength in his grip wasn’t due to a hesitance at the last minute.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it without you,” you confessed, not realising the arrows your words pierced through his heart.

In your shaky voice and shallow breaths, he heard your reluctant promise—”No matter how long it takes, I’ll always be right there waiting for you.”

And in his rare moment of silence, you heard his wholehearted oath—”No matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to you.”

Years had passed, both Nishinoya and you had grown more mature, more accustomed to only seeing each other once a year, more familiar with loneliness. But now, Nishinoya’s desire to explore has been satiated, and his journey around the globe has come to an end. He was back.

“Yuu!” The elation in your voice easily drowned out his calling of your name, earning a few glances from the passersby in the airport.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands and resting your forehead against his, you closed your eyes and let out a content sigh. He immediately mirrored you, basking in your presence.

“I’m home,” Nishinoya whispered, pulling away.

“You’re home.” You reciprocated, taking all of him in. He was a little tanner than the previous time you saw him, his eyes a little brighter.

For the first time since you last saw him, everything felt right. With him back, a monotony you never noticed was relieved. With you back, a stability he had forgotten was restored. Being back together brought back memories of the past and gave hope for the future. To be a tad dramatic, you never felt quite as alive when he wasn’t by your side.

Just like the love stories and romance movies, everything around the both of you faded to nothingness. For a split second, it was just the two of you in the entire universe. For that split second, nothing else mattered, since you were with Nishinoya, and he wasn’t going anywhere else.

And in that split second, he decided that it was now or never.

Taking a step away, he fumbled for something in his pocket. As he sunk to one knee, realisation settled in your mind. Oh, oh.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Nishinoya declared, eyes glazed over and smile full of anticipation.

In the glittering diamond seated atop the silver band he held up, you saw his wish hung upon the wish tree—

And in the glimmering tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head yes, he saw your wish hung upon the wish tree—

“Stay with me, forever.”

—

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lifesabe-ch · 4 years

Text

josslyn - jj m. (pt. 2)

summary: based off the song josslyn by Olivia O’Brien. You and JJ have a friends with benefits relationship, but when he slips up, you realize you’ve changed your mind

pairings: jj maybank x reader

warnings: mentions of cheating

a/n: pt. 2!! here it is guys!! the beginning is inspired by a cheating quote I found on here but I can't find it so if you know what I'm talking about, pls lmk so I can give credit

PART 1

You didn’t know what time it was. You had woken up what felt like hours ago, but you hadn’t moved. You watched the sunlight dance against your curtains, peaking through only where your blinds permitted it to and hitting the wall. You traced the makeup lines that were smudged onto your pillow, no doubt the rest occupying your face in a similar way.

You felt weak. Your mind hurt, so your body mirrored the feeling. It was like there was a hole in your chest, a vacancy where your heart used to be. You had given him everything... and he broke you. You were feeling it.

You only got up when you had to pee. Your steps were slow and measured, not exerting more energy than needed to. You found your mind wandering to the contents of your bathroom. One of his hats was still here, left haphazardly on your bathroom counter. You picked it up after you had finished, turning it gingerly over in your hands. Bringing your eyes up to meet your own in the mirror's reflection, you winced. You looked disgusting. The makeup you had spent so long applying perfectly yesterday was now everywhere. Your hair looked greasy. And your face... god. You could understand why he did it. Why he cheated on you. Throwing a towel at your reflection, you trudged back to bed, his hat still in hand. You didn’t want to sleep, but you didn’t want to go on with your life. Not today. The warmth of your covers was just so inviting, so sheltering from the truth. You didn’t even bother turning on the lights.

You only got up again around 4pm. You hadn’t eaten, you realized. You made it all the way to the kitchen, even opened the fridge, before you stopped. You were thinking of him again.

He had bought you those blueberries a few days ago. You only stare at the container, pondering over the deeper meaning you convinced yourself it had. Maybe he was warning you. Maybe the black and blues stood for bruises. Maybe he was trying to tell you that you’d be hurt by him. Not physically... but mentally. You change your mind, closing the fridge and heading back to your bed. You weren’t hungry anyway, you decided.

As you plop yourself down against the mattress, you grab your phone from the night stand. You ignore the missed calls and texts, scrolling past your notifications to instead open up your social media. Your fingers ghost the screen as you hover over his profile, staring at the photos he had shared. They’re soon finding their way through his comments and likes and you realize that you can’t help it. You felt like an idiot for not doing this before. For not realizing that you weren’t his only girl, that you never had been.

You push yourself up once again, this time with a goal in mind. You bustle around the room, laundry basket in hand as you throw various items of his that he’d left at your place into it. You don’t want them, you tell yourself. You’ll give them to his friends, or donate them if you have too. But they couldn’t stay here. After you had finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, looking around. You grabbed your phone and pulled up his page again, but this time, to block him. You made sure all of his accounts were unreachable, and that any pictures you may have had posted with him were archived.

You were done. As you tucked yourself in that night, you ignored the way the sinking feeling still hadn’t gone anyway. Maybe it was something else, your brain offered. But you knew. You knew better.

You hadn’t slept for long when your restlessness had woken you up again. Your sheets were kicked to the floor, but your legs were cold. Your whole body felt cold. You missed him.

You can’t help but pull the pillow he’d used one too many times to your chest, inhaling lightly. It didn’t smell like him, you’d washed your sheets, but you pretended it did. You pulled your phone out too then, unblocking his profiles and re-scrolling like before.

This cycle lasted for days. Each time you thought you were moving past it, each time you felt yourself forgetting, you missed him again. You blamed yourself. You even texted him a few apologies. He never responded. And soon, neither did you.

The roles reversed. As you started to get better, JJ started to get worse. He couldn’t sleep, wondering if you still missed him like he missed you. He wasn’t even that hungry anymore, avoiding most of the things you had stocked his kitchen with. He had even cancelled plans with his friends.

He was desperate.

While you gathered his things to give back, he gathered yours to reminisce.

He missed you. The way you’d come over when he had a nightmare about his dad and hold him until he fell asleep. The way your smile always made his heart flutter. The ways his arms fit perfectly around you, almost as if you were made for him.

He wanted you back. He needed you back. Each moment he spent alone reminded him of that. He didn’t want Josslyn. He didn’t want any of the other girls. All he wanted was you.

And he was a wreck.

THE two of you hadn’t seen each other in months, the last time having been that day. You had a rough go of it, but you were better.

You had built yourself back up, retaught yourself your worth, and reminded yourself that you didn’t need anyone else to be happy. And you didn’t.

You had spent your time apart from JJ having one of the best summers of your life. You were with your friends. The friends you’d nearly forgotten about, always too worried with keeping the blonde haired boy happy. You’d even gotten yourself another job, keeping a steady income while still managing to do what you loved. You weren’t completely healed, but you were getting there. Seeing JJ only confirmed that.

He had noticed your first, his eyes piercing as he watched you and your friends laugh from across the restaurant. You were glowing. You were happy.

JJ was moping, taking up the offer on a double date with John B. that the boy insisted would lift his spirits. Truth be told, he hadn’t looked over at his date more than a handful of times, even less after he’d taken note of you.

It took longer for your eyes to drift over to his. A friend had pointed out your stalker to you, the group sharing a laugh, only your sharp intake of breath cutting the joke short. You knew he came here. You knew you had a chance of seeing him... you just didn’t expect it. You had stopped showing up places in hopes of bumping into him. This was purely coincidental. But you didn’t mind. As you saw him, you realized that you were okay. You even managed to flash him a polite smile before turning back towards your group.

You had felt like your world had crumbled around you. Like things would never get better. But they had. You hadn’t forgotten him, and your feelings hadn’t disappeared, but you acknowledged that it wasn’t meant to be. You were at peace with it.

From across the small diner, JJ’s mind was pulling him in the opposite direction. He had caught your smile, but he hadn’t taken it as a sign of forgiveness, but rather an invitation for a second chance.

You missed him too, he decided. He even told John B. so before getting up and making his way over to your table.

“Hi.”

It was silent. It wasn’t, not completely, but it may of well have been. Your friends hadn’t stopped their conversations, instead just continuing in much more exaggerated tones. They were listening to each other, but more so to you.

It was a simple greeting for a complicated conversation, but you figured it was as good a place as any to start.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk?”

Awkwardly glancing between JJ and your friends, you mutely nodded. You didn’t want to talk, but you wanted to hear him out. Not that you owed it to him, but rather to yourself. You needed to hear whatever he had to say to you.

He had led you outside and down to the pier near the back of the restaurant. There weren't many people around, save for the few employees coming in and out every so often.

As you leaned against the rail, you crossed your arms over your chest protectively. You allowed yourself to take him in. He looked like the same boy from before, but tired. The bags under his eyes weren’t subtle and his hair was a mess. You wanted to reach out and fix it, ask him what nightmares were keeping him awake now, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t your place anymore.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I miss you,” he blurts, clearly not interested in any type of chitchat. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I miss you, Y/N. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

You were silent as you watched him pull his fingers through his own hair, pacing slightly before you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I go to sleep, and you’re there. I wake up, and you’re there. I’m surfing, and you’re there. Except, you’re not. You’re never really there, Y/N, and I really want you to be.”

He stared down at his feet for a few seconds, glancing up only after you hadn’t responded, “Say something. Please. I... I can’t imagine being with anyone other than you.”

“But you were,” You words were quiet, surprising even yourself. “You were with someone other than me. That’s why we’re where we are now.”

“But that didn’t mean anything, Y/N. I know now, you’re the one that matters. I love you. I want to be you, only you.”

His words hit you with their full meaning almost instantly. If he had caught you a month or two ago, you’d have jumped into his arms. You would’ve been his and his alone and that would’ve been that. He had never said I love you to you, not in the way he had just used it. It had been strictly platonic, even as the two of you were hooking up, he made sure of it. You should’ve been happy. But you weren’t.

“It’s too late, JJ.”

Ignoring the way he looked at you, you continued, shrugging your shoulders in defense, “It’s too late for that.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say. You didn’t think there was anything left to say. You started your ascent back towards the ramp when you felt his hands on your wrist, spinning you to face him.

“That night,” he practically whispered, his eyes soft as they met yours, “The one where we were on my couch. We had just spent all day together, just the two of us, for the first time. We were high, remember? You told me you loved me... you... you told me you loved me and that you meant it. Do you still love me?”

You didn’t answer. You felt like you couldn’t. You were left just watching him, gears turning in your head as you tried to figure out a response.

Noting your struggle, he continued, “I didn’t say it back because I didn’t know how I felt. But I do now. I love you. If... if you still love me, we can make this work.”

Your heart ached. You had missed JJ. He was your best friend. Your world. But he shattered you in a second, without so much as another thought.

“Of course I still love you.”

Ignoring his hopeful smile, you pulled your hand from his grip, stepping back, “But there’s a difference between you and me. I knew I loved you that day. All it took was a day together for me to realize how I felt. You... you had to sleep with someone else, JJ. You told me that you didn’t even think about me when you were with her.”

You could see the guilt on his features, but you couldn’t stop.

“You let me walk out that door. And you didn’t care. I called you. I texted you. I can’t even remember how many times I told you I was sorry. Do you know how many times you said it?”

He shook his head silently, watching as you sadly smiled.

“Not once. You never apologized for hurting me, but I apologized countless times for being upset about it. That’s not love, JJ. Someone who loves someone else wouldn’t hurt them like that.”

As you turned to walk back towards the door, you heard him shuffle up the ramp beside you.

“I’m sorry.”

Glancing over at him as you let the door finish closing the space between the two of you, you muttered two words that broke him. He hadn’t even needed to hear you say them to know what words your lips were forming. He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want things to be over, for good. But for you, they already were.

“Too late.”

tag list :

@heda-mikaelson , @fangirlwithme

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x reader imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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softboywriting · 4 years

Text

Ready | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn is the love of your life, and it’s about time you told him. [anxiety talk] [fluff] [friends to lovers] [non-au] [inspired by Joy by Bastille]

Word Count: 1.7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Shawn has always been your light. He's the one person who can change your mood instantly. Everything about him is warm, inviting, cozy. His aura is so strong with love it's intoxicating. For this you are lucky, because you don't have that sort of presence, at least you don't think so.

It's morning, early judging by the light coming through the kitchen window. You stare at the tile across from you, eyes aching from the night before. Never thought you'd be here, this low, this down. You don't know when you decided to give up, not sure how you ended up on the kitchen floor. But here you are.

Your dog Bumble waddles into the kitchen, his nails tip tapping on the cold tile. He's a chunky little pug, always happy to see you, even happier when you're at his level as you are now. He walks over and plops down in the bend of your waist where your knees are pulled up.

"Hey Bum, what're you doing up so early?" You scratch under his collar and he lolls his tongue out. "You don't ever-" The sound of your phone ringing cuts you off and you look into the living room through the open doorway. Bumble being awake makes sense now. Your phone is still on the charger from last night and it's probably been ringing all morning. There is no doubt in your mind who's calling, because there is only one person who it could be.

You push up off the floor, body protesting as you do so. Tile does not make a great bed. Bumble follows after you as you head to the small living area and grab your phone off the arm of the sofa. Sure enough, two missed calls, both from Shawn.

"How do you always know?" You ask when Shawn answers your redial.

A chuckle. Such a sweet sound. "Because I know what you're like when you have an anxiety attack. You don't answer the phone and you disappear from your social media. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm stiff, but otherwise okay."

"Where'd you end up?"

You glance over to the kitchen and shake your head. "Kitchen floor. I must have laid down with Bumble. I don't really remember."

"That's not good. Have you been to the doctor recently?"

"No. It's been fine lately, I just...I just got overwhelmed last night."

Shawn sighs and you know he doesn't mean to sound disappointed. He knows the struggle of anxiety, he's been there and back. You have the same doctor as him and for good reason, she's the best and Shawn recommended her to you. "Can I come over?"

"You're home?"

"Yes. Can I?"

"Please."

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Coffee?"

"Decaf." You stand and wander into the kitchen where Bumble is sitting by his food bowl. "Can you get a treat for Bum? I'm out."

"Absolutely. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you, Shawn."

"Always."

______________________

Opening the door to your apartment and seeing Shawn is a relief like no other. The rush of seeing someone you love is unmatchable. He's smiling, those gorgeous perfect teeth showing themselves to the world behind his way too pink lips. His little scar and dimples are beautiful, highlighted by the bright hall light. Gods above he is truly the most perfectly imperfect man you've laid eyes on. You're so lucky to have him in your life.

"I mean this in the nicest way but, you look like hell." Shawn says softly, handing you a red paper cup of coffee. "You should have called me."

"I couldn't. You know how it is."

"I know." He tucks your hair back and cups your cheek. "I remember how it felt, hopeless, exhausting. I'm here now okay?"

You wrap your arms around him, careful with the cup in your hand and he holds your head to his chest. "I didn't even know you were in town. You've been in LA so much I was sure you were gone."

"I've been recording at Teddy's place. We've been doing so much it's crazy. The album is coming along so quickly, I decided to step away, come home and slow down a little."

You take a deep breath and relax into him, losing yourself in the familiar scent. He's like home. Warm, spicy, just Shawn. That's all there is to it. He just smells like him, like he always has. "Do you have plans while you're home?"

"Nope, nothing yet."

"No plans with your parents or um...the girl?"

Shawn pulls back and looks down at you. He tilts your head up and you stare at him. "What girl?"

"The one you were seeing. The one in LA? She didn't come back with you?"

"There is no girl." He chuckles softly. "What tabloids are you reading?"

"But you were seen out with someone, I saw pictures of you at a bar with Niall and some girl."

Shawn shakes his head. "Oh, you mean Brit? She's one of the ladies I work with in LA. A friend of Teddy's. We were not going out together, no, she's uh not interested in me."

"Oh but you're interested in her?"

"I mean she's cute and I might have been, until I found out she's got a girlfriend." Shawn smiles sweetly. "You're jealous."

You pull away, gripping your cup with both hands as you cross the living room toward the kitchen. "I am not."

"Liar." He says, following after you and cutting you off just as you walk through the archway to the kitchen. "You are, or you wouldn't have mentioned her."

"I was curious."

"Curious, jealous, same thing."

"Is not."

Shawn let's out a heavy sigh and sets his cup on the small dining table. "Was this about me?"

"What?"

"This," he gestures to you as a whole. "The anxiety attack. Was it about me? Because you knew I was in LA. You thought I was seeing someone. You asked about her as soon as I get here. It seems a little coincidental that it would be unrelated."

You swallow hard and bite the inside of your cheek. Fuck him. Fuck him for seeing right through you. You want to tell him he's wrong, that it was nothing, that it was just an anxiety attack from the stress of work and life. You want to shout at him, angry because he's calling you out. Tears sting your eyes, threatening to spill over and then they do.

"Hey," Shawn says quietly, taking the cup from your hands as they begin to shake. "Talk to me."

"I can't." You whimper, voice broken as you fight back tears.

"Am I wrong about my speculation?"

You shake your head.

"You know that you and I can be together. You know you hold the power to change this from a friendship to a relationship, I gave you that decision ages ago."

"But-"

"No buts." Shawn wipes your cheeks with his thumbs as he cup your face. "Are you ready to do this?"

"I don't know."

"What's your hesitations?"

"Distance. Fans." You sniff and he nods for you to go on. "Insecurity."

"What makes you insecure?"

"I'm not...like...y'know."

"No, I don't know." Shawn walks you back into the living room and pulls you down on to the couch with him. "Tell me."

"I'm not good enough. I'm not like a model or pretty or talented like Hailee or Taylor. I'm just...I'm me."

"You think I want them?" He slides his hand over yours, lifting it and putting your palms together. "I want a woman who knows me. Whose hand has always fit in mine. Someone who understands what it's like when I'm down and who makes me laugh without even trying." He slides his fingers over so he can curl them between yours. "I want the one who makes me feel like I'm home every time I hear her voice, and makes me think about her every time I see something she likes."

"Shawn."

"I'm not done." He brings your joined hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. "I want the one who says I love you by putting socks on my feet before bed when I stay the night because she knows they'll get cold. The one who makes my favorite pancakes whenever she knows I'm going to come home." He smiles to himself and shakes his head. "The one who reminds me of who I am and where I came from and grounds me faster than anything in the world when I'm stressed and spinning out of control. I want you. I've always wanted you."

You stare at him, eyes fixed on his. It's no secret that he's in love with you. It never has been, but you've never believed it. You thought one day he would find someone better, someone without occasional anxiety problems, someone beautiful and smart and funny. You never thought that it would be you, that he would actually mean the words he said time and time again. He knows this. It's why he gave you the power to decide what you want from him. Yet here he is, reading you like a book, knowing your thoughts as if they were his own. It's time you decide what to do.

"I know I've said it before, time and time again, but I'm saying it again. I love you, I always have and I always will."

You take a deep breath and look away. This is the part where you usually stay quiet. When you choke down the words he needs to hear. The words that will change everything. You clench your jaw, tears coming once more and you let out a soft sob. Say it. You have to. It's time. It's time to make him yours.

"I love you too." You say in nothing more than a broken whisper, eyes darting across his chest, looking everywhere but his face.

"Louder."

"I love you." You lift your head and stare him dead in the eye. He's crying. Your heart aches, hands shaking. "I love you Shawn. I always have."

"It's about time." He grins and cradles your face, leaning in to kiss you. "This is the beginning then?"

"Yes. Finally." You smile and he just smiles back, head against yours. "I took my time I suppose."

"You did." He kisses you softly. "But you're worth it."

End.

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

Thank you so much for reading. Please reblog if you enjoyed, want to save it, or just b/c you read it. Thank you again! -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

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icyharrington · 4 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- THE PREQUEL- Part 1 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

so basically,,,, i took my adhd meds for class this morning, and then suddenly got super inspired to write this, so i figured i couldnt waste the focus and wrote this whole ass thing in a few hours. this is the first part of a 3-part prequel series, which details the events leading up to the first part of iiw! just a whole lot more teen angst, drama, fuckboy michael, and more... there isn’t going to be any SMUT smut for obvious reasons, but in a future part there is going to be some dirty stuff ;) anyway i know this will prob flop but this is the first full length fic i’ve written in months and i had a lot of fun writing it, so ima post regardless ^__^

plot: things are turning upside for you now that the biggest fuckboy in school, michael langdon, is about to become your stepbrother. if you think shit is crazy now, wait til you find out that this is just the prequel 😏

warnings: underage drinking, talk of sexual shit, teen angst, sexual tension, taboo relationships

wc: 4.2k

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

You did, of course you did.

You’d seen him, engulfed in his loneliness, floating from day to listless day like some kind of cheesy Victorian spectre. Too many times you’d found him alone at night, one hand cradling a glass of sewer-brown liquor, the other thumbing through worn photo albums extracted from dust-ridden shelves in the living room. You hadn’t known your mother well- she’d died back when you were still in diapers, but what you did know was that she’d been a vibrant light in your father’s world that had been unjustly snuffed out in its prime. He was a good father to you, and you knew you made him happy despite the dull ache ever-present in his heart, but it was evident that deep down he craved a companionship you could never provide.

So of course you were glad when he met Miriam. Of course you were glad when you’d seen his beaming smile, sharing the news, with the giddiness of a teenage girl in love, that he’d found somebody. He was practically glowing, that night he’d gone out for their first date. You’d known it’d been special to him, because he’d shelled out a few hundred to treat them both to a fancy dinner; he’d even gotten her a bouquet of flowers on the drive there.

You hadn’t said anything when he’d gushed to you the next day about how he’d found the one, despite having known her for only a week; sure, he was rushing into things, but at least he was happy! And that was all you wanted- for him to be happy.

That was why you were especially crushed when you finally met Miriam’s teenage son, whom your father had briefly mentioned with a passing “he goes to your high school, maybe you know him”.

There were so many boys at your school that it was impossible to guess who your potential stepbrother might be. The prospect that you might know him didn’t bother you too much, though you did think it might be a little awkward upon first meeting, but really what did it matter? A little bit of teenage shyness was a small price to pay for your father’s newfound happiness.

That is, until you met him.

So really, it wasn’t like you didn’t want your dad to be happy.

That wasn’t the case at all.

You just really, really, wished he’d fallen in love with anyone other than the mother of Michael fucking Langdon.

ii.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” Miriam gushed over a glass of Chardonnay, which had already been defaced with aubergine lip prints around the golden rim. “Gosh, I just wish I had your hair. Mine was fried from years of coloring, so I just chopped it all off!”

You smiled sweetly, observing your father’s glimmering eyes as he hung onto every word that rolled off her tongue, menus still stacked neatly in the middle of the table as you awaited the fourth and final guest. The three of you had been there for fifteen minutes already, and still her son had not arrived.

I guess his study session is running late, she’d explained, after seeing your furrowed brows at her lack of accompaniment. It was the first time you were meeting your father’s new love interest and her son, and you were rapidly growing more and more anxious in anticipation of the big reveal.

Studying, you’d thought, racking your brain. So maybe he’s one of the nerdy teacher’s pet types? You could certainly live with that; there were a great deal of others you could think of who would be far worse to potentially become step-siblings with.

“Thanks, Ms… Mead, did you say it was?”

You weren’t sure you knew of any boys whose last name was Mead; he definitely had to be someone you hardly knew.

“Oh, honey, call me Miriam,” she said warmly, and you nodded, unsure of what to say next.

Miriam was certainly not what you’d imagined your father’s girlfriend to be like, not that you cared either way; she sported short, dark hair with vampy makeup, clad in all black with a tasteful leather jacket to match. She was also a bit older than you’d anticipated, with fine lines adorning her rounded face, but again, none of that mattered to you at all. She seemed perfectly sweet, and you had no complaints about her thus far.

“Okay, Miriam,” you said, feeling somewhat peculiar addressing an adult by their first name, “so, remind me, how’d you guys meet again?”

“Well, it’s a funny story, really,” Miriam chuckled, plucking a dinner roll from the woven basket across from her and dropping it onto her plate. Her dark eyes shifted from you to your father, poising an impeccably groomed raven brow. “Should you tell it, or should I?”

“Oh, you should, definitely,” your father said, sipping his wine.

“Okay, okay. Well, we were in the meat section at the grocery store when we both reached for the last steak on sale. So I looked at him, and I told him- oh my, this is embarrassing- (your dad’s name), you finish!”

Your father looked like he was about to bust out into laughter, and, suppressing a snort, he blurted, “she said she’d cut off my hands if I took it!”

Immediately after the words left his lips, the two fell into boisterous hysterics that ushered forward a few disapproving glances from the stuffy rich assholes at the next table over, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little yourself. Well… she definitely was a character, but as long as your father was being kept entertained…

“Hey mom,” came a sudden, inappropriately loud male voice from behind you, so out of place that you nearly jumped from your seat. “I was helping Dan with the world war three chapter in our textbook, he sucks at geography shit.”

The voice’s owner revealed himself as a tall, blond boy, who promptly slid into the empty chair beside you, chiseled face slightly obscured by the deep shadows resulting from the dimness of the restaurant’s ambient lighting.

This was, indeed, somebody that you knew, and you blinked twice to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

It took you a few seconds to register the direness of the situation at hand, but once the thought processed in your mind, you about descended into an out-of-body experience.

This couldn’t be.

No way.

No motherfucking way.

You’d never been all too much of a religious person, but in that moment, you found yourself silently begging whatever higher power was out there that this was all just some sick, cosmic prank.

The boy turned his head to give you a good, uncomfortably long look, stupidly perfect mouth twisting into an amused sideways grin, and then he spoke. “Ohh shit, (y/n)? (Y/n) (y/l/n)?”

He spoke your name like it was a punchline, tongue darting out to lick his teeth like a lizard about to gobble up some poor, helpless cricket as you sat there with your jaw unhinged. You were at a loss for words, or at least almost, managing to croak out a pathetic, puny, “Michael.”

“Oh, good! You guys know each other already!” Miriam exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the complete and utter horror that had just about finished swallowing you whole.

Michael let out a snort, roughly translating to ‘uhh, yeah, not that well… I’d never be caught dead hanging around with someone like (y/n)’, and you grimaced. “Yeah, a little bit. You were in math class with me last year, right?”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to regain your composure for fear of feeding into this complete asshole’s already massive ego. Yeah, in fact, you had been in math class with him last year, and, not-so-coincidentally, that very same class had turned out to be the one you dreaded the most.

Michael Langdon was the most insufferable, mind-numbing, self-obsessed asshole that you’d ever had the displeasure of knowing; he was easily the most popular boy in the grade, and it was clear he was fully aware of his own high school bullshit prestige. He was loud, cocky and obnoxious; the type of fuckboy- yes, you knew the word fuckboy was overplayed, but in this case there was no other way to describe him- who’d loudly brag about his sexual escapades in the middle of the hallway to his flock of adoring fuckboy minions. He was an I-don’t-do-relationships type, a U-up-text-at-3am type, a Yo-dude-did-you-see-Zoe-Benson’s-tits-today type, a bro-I’m-so-fucking-baked-right-now type. Just the sound of his voice from across a crowded hallway was enough to make you physically recoil. And the worst part?

Every-fucking-body loved him.

Your complaints about him during lunch would only result in your friends cooing dreamily, as though he were some kind of sympathetic creature that needed babying: But he’s so cute, they’d say, twirling locks of their hair and fiddling with their bracelets. I’m sure he’s not that bad.

But he was that bad, and if they took off their shit-stained, teenage hormone-clouded rose tinted glasses for only a second, they’d see exactly what you saw.

It wasn’t only the students, either. He was able to get away with everything and anything he pleased, whether it be sneaking sips of vodka in a water bottle between classes or ditching class to smoke a joint behind the bleachers. There’d even been rumors that he’d fucked some senior girl in the handicap stall during the autumn pep rally while the rest of the student body was packed like sardines in the sticky-hot gymnasium, subjected to incremental barks from the football coach to scream louder and louder.

How the hell was somebody as pleasant as Miriam the mother of such an incurable douchebag? And how, in all the unholy realms of hell, did your luck get so miserably bad that she ended up with your father?

It was all so fucking unfortunate that you almost wanted to laugh. And you probably would have, if not for the chance that you might puke all over your nice new sweater if you opened your mouth.

“You smell funny, hon,” said Miriam before you could reply. “Was Dan burning incense in his room?”

Oh, god. So she was one of those oblivious parents. You rolled your eyes; it made a lot of sense when you thought about it.

“Huh? Oh. Um, yeah. Incense,” Michael said, before suddenly extending his arm across the table to your father. “Oh shit, how rude of me. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you, man.”

Your father seemed unfazed my Michael’s distinct lack of manners as he accepted the boy’s hand and shook it, and you felt yet another knot twist up in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your father, too, had somehow been cast under Michael’s spell.

“Michael, we talked about this,” Miriam said under her breath, like she was scolding a child who didn’t know any better. “Keep the potty mouth to a minimal when we’re out in public, especially while we’re in such a nice restaurant.”

“Oh, sh…oot, sorry, mom,” Michael said with a faux-sheepish smile, his eyes flickering with amusement despite his supposed remorse. “And sorry to you too, sir. Bad habits.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mike- can I call you Mike?” your father said as they released hands, moving his to rest atop Miriam’s on the cloth-sheathed table. “I remember what it was like being a boy your age.”

You scoffed, loud enough that the table fell silent for a moment, and quickly you disguised it with a cough. Your cheeks went hot as all eyes laid on you, and you frantically scanned your brain for something to fill the silence with.

“So, um,” you said, clearing your throat. “Michael’s, uh, how come Michael’s last name isn’t Mead?”

Fuck. That sounded so fucking stupid. Instinctively, you felt your eyes wander to Michael to see if he was laughing at you, which you hated yourself for; why should his stupid, pea-brained opinion mean anything to you anyway? As much as you wanted to distance yourself from that idiotic, made-up high school hierarchy, you always wound up finding yourself being sucked back in, it seemed.

“Well, my late husband’s last name was Langdon, and since he was kind of a dirtbag, I decided not to keep his name after he passed,” Miriam said slowly, as if taking very careful thought to word herself correctly. You took in a breath; this seemed like a whole new can of worms that you hadn’t meant to open up.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t talk about dad like that,” said Michael, his tone only half-playful, eyebrow cocking as he flashed his mother a knowing look.

“You try being cheated on multiple times, Michael. Then you’ll see that dirtbag is really a nice way of putting it.”

Oh, sure, you thought bitterly. As if Michael fucking Langdon is even remotely capable of understanding someone else’s pain.

You took this as your cue to stand up from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before scurrying off in the opposite direction as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself. If ten minutes with Michael as your psuedo-stepbrother got to you this badly, you could only imagine how awful your life was about to get.

You could only hope that your father would find some reason to nip things in the bud with Miriam, but right now, that appeared to be an unlikely prospect.

iii.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end my shit right here and now,” you griped to your best friend, who sat crosslegged on your bed as you stood idly before your floor-length mirror, arms dangling limply at your sides in an unintentional stance of defeat. Your face was one that you hardly recognized anymore, forehead creased with worry and eyes shadowed by bruise-colored rings from a seemingly endless barrage of sleepless nights; a week ago, your father had gleefully announced his and Miriam’s engagement; you of course, as his loving daughter, had to behave as though you hadn’t just received the worst news of your life, which somehow you’d pulled off (for a second you wondered why you’d never taken up theater, seeing at how convincing your acting could be sometimes). It was like you’d been plucked from the familiarity of your boring, normal world and dropped into your own personally tailored hell without any warning at all, though you couldn’t think of a single thing you’d done bad enough to warrant you deserving this. “The worst person on the planet is about to be my fucking stepbrother and nobody else seems to think this is a big deal!”

Your best friend shook her head, letting out a snort as if any of this was even remotely funny in the slightest. “So your stepbrother is hot and cool and he pisses you off. They literally make porn about that.”

You resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake her until some semblance of sense entered her head, instead shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans with a loud huff. “Yeah, but this isn’t fucking pornhub, (best friend’s name), this is real life! And I’d rather skin myself alive than sleep with that walking STD.”

“You have a lot more self respect than I do. It’s admirable,” she said, still startlingly calm for your liking, and you were beginning to believe that she’d never understand the mental turmoil you were currently suffering with. “Personally I’d ride him into the sunset, whether he had a herpes dick or not.”

You gagged, shaking your head with adamant disgust. Was she really that fucking horny? “You’re sick, you know that?”

“Sick for diiiiick,” she sang back, batting her eyelashes playfully at you. You turned away, scrounging up every weary shred of self restraint within you not to scream.

“Look, (b/f/n). I’m being serious right now. If you fuck him, or suck his dick, or whatever, I will literally never speak to you again.” Your tone was stern, and you faced her again to see whether your seriousness had computed in the hormonal wasteland that was her brain. There was an extended pause as she blinked at you, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully as she chewed her lipgloss-slick bottom lip.

“I mean, he wouldn’t fuck me anyways,” she finally said, still infuriatingly chipper. “I’m nobody. And he’s, like, royalty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t care whether you think you have a chance with him!” You realized too late that you were nearly shouting, so you took in a shaky gulp of oxygen and coaxed yourself to soften your tone. The last thing you needed right now was for people to think you were losing your mind, although sometimes that was exactly what you felt like was happening. “Please, just promise me you won’t? I just need one aspect of my life not to involve him. Please?”

“Okay, fine,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest and settling her chin on top. “If it really matters that much to you, I’ll just shift my thirst to Dan Mott instead. That boy is a fucking snack and a half.”

A wave of almost-relief cascaded over your body, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself become one with this momentary victory.

One year. Just one stupid, insignificant year until I can go away to college and forget all about him.

If you could survive that much, you told yourself, you’d be able survive anything.

You just hoped that intoxicating spell of his wasn’t strong enough to bring your best friend into his web of bullshit, alongside all the other girls who’d become entangled along the way.

If she did, you’d be stranded, left to run from Michael and his ever-expanding army all on your own.

iv.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the dreaded date of your father’s wedding ceremony arrived; now you stood amidst a small group of distant relatives at the subdued reception party, seeking refuge from the disturbing thought that, legally, Michael Langdon was now your brother, at the open bar.

You and your best friend had decided to make something of a game out of how many drinks you could finagle from the bartender without any adults noticing, which had ultimately proved to be pointless- an hour into the reception, your father had staggered over with two overflowing dirty Shirleys, thrusting them towards the two of you with a big, sloppy grin on his face.

To say he was in a good mood would be a severe understatement- the man was jovial, and you almost felt guilty for hating the circumstances of his marriage so much. By the raised-brow looks your best friend had been shooting at you all night, you knew she was thinking the same thing: that you were being selfish for worrying so much about yourself when this was the best thing that’d happened to your father in years. And maybe it was true; maybe you’d been so wrapped up in your own teen angst bullshit that you’d willingly blinded yourself from the truth. So, with your father’s beaming face dancing in the back of your mind, you pushed any thought about Michael back to the dredges where they belonged.

Fuck Michael Langdon. You couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of knowing that you were distraught, though you’d surely already made that pretty obvious over the past few months (he’d wasted no time in taunting you about it, seeming to relish in your death glares and eye rolls- hey, future sis! he’d crooned at you as you passed his table in the cafeteria one afternoon, nearly causing you to trip and spill your perfectly mediocre iced coffee all over yourself as his friends cackled like demented hyenas).

I’m not gonna let him bother me anymore.

I’m not-

“SIS-TERRRRRR!”

Okay, this had to be some kind of divine test of will.

A blazer-glad arm flung itself around your shoulders and you flinched, immediately jerking away from your intoxicated stepbrother (god, it felt weird to refer to him that way) whose brash motions had sent you both stumbling.

“Getting shitfaced at your mom’s wedding… classy,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of your chest and narrowing your eyes at the blond-haired boy.

He was, admittedly, good-looking (only by conventional standards, of course); his lightly gelled blond hair had long since come undone, now soft and unkempt from hours of attention-whorish dancing, but you thought the disheveled look suited him better anyway (since his whole thing was to look like a grimy, rugged fuckboy, not because you personally found it attractive, obviously). He’d undone the top few buttons of his white top (no doubt the only formal article of clothing he owned), which was now stained beyond foreseeable repair with a colorful variety of liquids, and there was a bead of sweat traveling from his slick forehead to his model-sharp jaw. Even in disarray, he looked good, and you couldn’t help but hate him for it.

“God, you are so uptight,” he said, pale eyes flickering towards the multicolored ceiling in exaggerated annoyance as he dragged out his syllables with leisure. “You need to relax, set up a dick appointment or something. Or pussy appointment, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Your mouth fell open at this remark, too stunned by his vulgarity to even get angry with your friend, who had dissolved into a fit of giggles beside you; it wasn’t that you were some pearl-clutching grandmother- you had no issue discussing sexual matters with your friends, and in fact some would even say you had a perverted sense of humor. But this? This was different: something about the way those words had fallen from Michael’s mouth made you feel dirty.

At your lack of response, Michael flashed a pearly grin that could only be categorized as evil, and he crossed his arms to mimic your stance. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that you’re probably still a virgin.”

He glanced over to your friend, whose feeble attempts to suppress her second wave of laughter had proven unsuccessful, before averting his gaze back to you. “Aw, don’t feel bad, (y/n). There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer.”

Then, as if to punctuate his words, he smirked.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, you felt something like a storm swirling inside of you, winds thick and unyielding and relentless, and you were almost positive that you’d tear him apart once the feeling aligned with the rest of your body.

It was then that the song blaring through the speakers switched to something inappropriately upbeat, each thump of the dance-friendly bass feeling like punches to the gut.

The storm inside you hadn’t been giving way to anger at all; it was sadness you were feeling in your belly, hopeless and humiliated sadness, though you couldn’t quite understand why: he’d made some stupid, generic joke to try and get a rise out of you- what else was new these days? Maybe it was the fact that your best friend was, by her passiveness and obvious amusement at your expense, encouraging his taunts when she was supposed to be there for you. Or maybe the reality had finally, finally sunken in, that this kind of interaction with Michael would now consume your life for the next year.

Either way, it didn’t make a difference, and as if on cue, the familiar sting of unshed tears arrived patiently at the back of your eyes.

All at once you were were dizzy; Michael’s perfect face was doubling and distorting before your eyes, and your friend’s pitched laughter rang like incessant, robotic television static in your ears.

With very last straw of self preservation you could grasp, you said nothing at all, walking away with the dazed sluggishness of a zombie on autopilot.

You considered yourself lucky; soon enough, you wouldn’t have the luxury of walking away at all.

“She’s too sensitive,” you heard your friend say, faintly, in the background of your thoughts.

You didn’t have the energy to wonder why she wasn’t coming with you, much less the energy to chastise her for being a bad friend, which was what you knew she deserved. If she cared more about getting Michael’s attention than preserving her friendship with you, you supposed there was no use in trying to stop her anymore.

He’s like a disease, you thought as you ambled your way towards the bathroom, surrounded by people but yet still so alone. He’s like a disease, infecting everyone he touches.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before he got to you, too.

Who knew? Maybe he already had.

tagging some people from my old iiw tag list!: (i’m sorry if i tagged anyone twice, i’m literally half asleep right now cuz i got like 2 hours of sleep in the past 24 hrs lol) @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @codycrazy @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @lvngdvns @langdonskillerqueen @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

#michael langdon #is it wrong #michael langdon x reader #mine #michael langdon fic #ahs #american horror story #apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #cody fern #x reader #ahs x reader

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thekillerssluts · 4 years

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Nostalgic For A Different Future: Arcade Fire's Will Butler On How His New Solo Album Finds Healing In Community

When Arcade Fire released their very first single, it came with a B-side that hit very close to home to brothers Win and Will Butler: a recording of a song called "My Buddy," credited to their grandfather, Alvino Rey. In fact, several generations of musicians line their family tree. While those historic echoes provide joy and solace for younger brother Will, the world tipping into pandemic and protests over racial injustice reinforced life’s darker cycles. On Butler’s second solo album, Generations (due Sept. 25 via Merge), he explores the ways in which we come together in community both because of and in spite of those ripples.

The video for early single "Surrender" represents that duality perfectly. The clip opens with studio footage of Butler’s band recording the jangly anthem, complete with call-and-response vocals and gospel falsetto. But much like 2020, things devolve quickly, with closed captioning-style subtitles mourning the deaths of Black men and women killed by police, calling for sweeping political change, and insisting on prison reform. Though written long ago, the album holds a special ability to tap into something boundless and timeless while simultaneously feeling entrenched in the tragic pain of the present.

Butler spoke with GRAMMY.com about the album’s similarities to Fyodor Dostoevsky, the ways in which songs take on new meaning over time, how Generations fits in with an upcoming Arcade Fire album and the healing power of community.

Did you have any hesitation about releasing the album in the midst of the pandemic?

I'm sad to not tour it. If I could wait four weeks and then tour the record... but that's not going to happen. It's actually kind of a good time to put out music. It feels morally good! People want music, so let's put out music. I've experienced that, where people put things out and it feels generous.

It truly does. You've compared this album to a novel and your debut before this to a collection of short stories. Is there a particular novelist that you feel would be in tune with your work? Do you take inspiration from fiction in that way?

It's not Dostoevsky. [Laughs.] But it is weirdly more inspired by Dostoevsky than it ought to be. It's the tumult of the 19th century, the next stage of the industrial revolution and the gearing up of socialism and anarchism. It feels related to the pre-revolutionary thing happening in Russia. [Laughs.] It's not a one-to-one comparison by any means, but it’s just the deeply human things happening in a context of the whirlwind.

Was there an experience that led you to the feeling that it was the right time to deliver such a politically driven album?

Partly, I went to grad school for public policy. I explicitly went as an artist wanting to know what's happening and why it's happening. I started the fall of 2016, which was a very bizarre time to be at a policy school. But I had a course with a professor named Leah Wright Rigueur, a young-ish professor, a Black woman, a historian. The course was essentially about race and riot in America. And since it was a policy school, the second-to-last week on the syllabus was talking about Hillary Clinton and the last week was talking about Donald Trump. It was a history class, but in an applied technical school, so it's like, "What are we doing with this history?"

We read the post-riot reports of Chicago in 1919 and the post-riot reports of the '60s, the Kerner Commission and after the Watts riots, and we read the DOJ reports after Ferguson and after Baltimore and Freddie Gray. And then Donald Trump got elected at the end of the semester. This course really trained my eyes at this moment of time, just being in that state of thinking about what's going on and why it's happening.

Right, and the album's title feels like it encapsulates not only the history that you were learning at the time but also your personal and familial ancestry.

Yes, very much so. My mom's a musician, and her parents were musicians. My grandmother grew up in a family band driving across the American West with her parents before there were even roads in the desert. Her dad got arrested a bunch of times for vagrancy or for not paying off loans. There's something very beautiful about being in the tradition of generations of musicians. That's a positive thing in this world. It's no coincidence that I'm a musician. There are, however, many more poisonous things that are also not coincidental that are rooted in both personal and political history. All of political history in America has been geared towards making each generation of my family's life better insofar as they're white men. It's been very good to my family, but that is as much of an undeniable generational heritage as music, which is this beautiful and faultless and glorious thing.

Do you see that musical tradition in your family as storytelling?

It's never been explicitly storytelling, though that is part of it. It's more about building community or building a society through entertainment. Entertainment is almost too light a word. My grandfather and grandmother did all these broadcasts during World War II, and some of it's jingoistic, some of it's incredibly moving, some of it's just dance music for people who don't want to think about the war for a minute. It's all these emotions, but still with this aim of trying to get us all in it together–which in a war context is fraught. But there's that element of always trying to make a family, make a community, learning how to bind us all together.

That reminds me of the call and response vocals you've got throughout the record. It has an especially gospel-y feeling on "Close My Eyes," which is such a clever way to paint a song about surrendering to something bigger than yourself, that communal feeling. What was the impetus for that narrative voice?

Part of it is just rooted in Smokey Robinson and the Miracles. [Laughs.] Years ago, someone mailed us the complete Motown singles on CD, just every single starting from day one. Even though there’s some garbage mixed in there, it just feels so human with those gang vocals and great singers that sometimes they just pulled off the street. You get the sense of humanity. Having backing vocals be so integral instead of just having my voice layered feels like having a community and feels very natural. It's hard for me to not just rely on that every third or fourth song. [Laughs.] It just feels like that's how it should be.

Those multi-part harmonies must be especially potent live in a room. Do you write in a way where you’re already picturing these songs live?

We played almost every one of these songs live before we recorded them. My solo band played "Surrender" live on the Policy tour for years. But even before we went into the studio last summer, I booked a weekend of shows. We did the Merge 30th Anniversary festival just to have us feel it live and have that communication. And then we went down to the basement to try to iron it out.

Speaking of "Surrender," that song took on an entire new life in the video. It starts out with videos of your band in the studio, but then quickly and powerfully gets replaced with messages mourning the deaths of George Floyd and Breanna Taylor and emphasizing the need for prison reform. You never know what life a song will have when you’re writing it.

That song is very nostalgic in a certain way. It’s looking towards the past, but not wishing to be in the past. It's wishing that we were in a different present because we had already chosen a different past. So when I was editing the video, I started it as a "making of" video. But the footage is from January of this year—five, six months old. There's this feeling of nostalgia, but also 2019 was not good enough to look back at. [Laughs.] 2019 was also horrible.

It's not like I want to go back to 2019. I want to play music with people. I want to be having fun with my friends. I want to be making a record. But I don't want it to be 2019. I'm nostalgic for a different future. And as I'm editing the video, there have been six weeks of protests of people trying to build something, and it just felt crazy to not acknowledge that. It was what people were focused on, at least the people around me.

Do you feel like you'll be infusing more overt social and political commentary into your music going ahead?

I think so. It's important that it's organic. It's part of the world I live in, part of my family and my friendships. Before the coronavirus hit, I was very much looking forward to touring and had vague plans to do town hall meetings and discussions. It felt like a rich time to do that around America, and around the world. I'm sad to not get to do that, but I think it will happen someday.

You produced the album yourself in your basement, so were you writing with the production choices already in mind or were you writing while in the studio?

I had the band come down and record for a week. And at the end of that first week, we had seven or eight songs that could be real. Some of them were clear. Some of them are simpler, like "Surrender." Others were trying to figure out where they would go. "I Don't Know What I Don’t Know" was more trial and error, trying something crazy. We'd turn everything off for two days and then come back to it and try something else. You try to be surprised by it.

I love revision. Well, I don't love it. I hate it. [Laughs.] I love the process of editing, of making a version of something and then finding something that's either better or worse. It's fun when you work with an editor that you trust, but when you're just doing it yourself, you drive yourself batty after some time. But I still love versioning it until it makes sense.

It feels like you're not too precious. You just want to service the song at the end of the day.

Yeah. I try to not be precious. I feel like the songs mostly came out with a fresh spirit. I didn't massage any of them too much. I'm very conversational in how I think of the world. Nothing is the final statement. You say something and then someone says something else and then you say something. And you have to finish what you're saying in order to hear what the other person says. So if that means putting it out into the world without rounding everything off, to me that feels right.

The record begins and ends on the same burning synth tone, like history ready to go around the loop again. What does that synth tone represent for you?

Not to get too mystical, but there's something about the bass that is so embodied. There's something about a really powerful bass that is fundamental, something that just gets to the core. I wanted that core to feel a little uneasy. It's not like the hit at the end of "A Day in the Life" where it’s this clear conclusion. It's a little bit gnarly. It's a little bit not in the right key for the song. It’s something disturbing at the very core of everything.

What has writing and producing this record taught you about yourself?

I found that while I still prize quickness and thoughtfulness and conversational life, this record took longer and took more effort than Policy. It was way less casual. It was not casual in a very good way. I realized this shouldn't be a casual undertaking—even though it can have lightness and humor and breezy elements. Even then, the whole undertaking can still be serious and grounded. It can even be quick without being casual. In the past, I've fallen into thinking, "Just do something first before you think about it too hard." But this was a reminder that you can do something more thoroughly.

Were you writing these songs while working on the next Arcade Fire album? Speaking about intention, how do you compartmentalize those two sides of your creativity?

Yeah, Arcade Fire is always very cyclical. We record for a year and a half, we tour for a year and a half, and then we're off for a year and a half. I was very conscious to do this in a moment when I wasn't distracted by something else. I wanted to focus on this.

I'm still figuring it all out. Right now I'm making a video for the song "Close My Eyes." I have children, two-year-old twins and an eight-year-old, so the spring was just complete family time—net positive, but total chaos. [Laughs.]

https://www.grammy.com/grammys/news/nostalgic-different-future-arcade-fires-will-butler-how-his-new-solo-album-finds

#Arcade Fire #will butler #interview #generations

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peace-coast-island · 3 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Making music with bebop gyroids

Musical gyroids galore! Kelly, Ned, Gutsy, Livvy, and Lulu are here with us to enjoy the sunny weather and make some fun musical instruments. The gyroids were designed by Daisy Jane and Kelly with some input from Ned and Goldie - and they look (and sound) so awesome!

It's been so bright and sunny these past couple of days, it feels kinda unusual. Looks like the sunshine's come out early this year! No shorts yet, but we've pulled out the sunglasses, where I finally get to use my new shades Daisy Jane got for me. Pretty and functional is how I like it - though I'm pretty sure that Daisy Jane spent quite a bit on these sunglasses - not that I'm complaining as they're really good at what they're supposed to do. I feel so cool and badass wearing them!

With Livvy home for spring break, she and Gutsy figured, what better place to spend a short vacation than at a camp? Gutsy always wanted to drop by to visit us since we came to Charm Villa to see her a while back. And of course, she had to bring little Lulu along to explore the great outdoors with her. Good thing they chose to come during a campsite event! What better way to be introduced to the camp than a gyroid adventure?

Since the Coloratura Jazz Band Festival last year Kelly and Daisy Jane began working on gyroid designs inspired by the festival. Kelly really has a way with instrument designs, coming up with interesting ideas like an electric cello in the shape of a treble clef or a harpsichord that looks like one of those cool antique desks. That's why gyroid events are so much fun - you can craft so many creative things with them!

Joining Kelly is her best friend Ned, her partner in crime. They've been friends since high school, often attracting trouble although things end up working out in the end. Coincidentally, Kelly's mom is a private investigator and a few years back she worked with Gutsy on a case involving a farm at Cedar Pickett. Kelly and Ned got involved and wound up riding horses along the infamously dangerous canyon trail to catch a criminal. They all remembered each other after all these years as it was an interesting case. It's fascinating how small the world can be sometimes!

Ned, according to Kelly, is a world class baker when it comes to pies. She wasn't exaggerating. He and his dads run a bakery/nightclub called Dub Step Pie Club. Despite the name, it actually looks like a pretty cool place. I should drop by there the next time I visit the island.

At first glance, Kelly and Ned seem like an unlikely duo. In a way, they kinda remind me of Daisy Jane and Almie - the bubbly outgoing one paired with the introverted quiet one. Kelly's the one dragging Ned into her schemes, usually involving her mom's cases. Ned has an unusual connection with the dead, so every once in a while he and Kelly end up with a murder mystery or a ghost with unfinished business. They have a fun dynamic, those two.

In between gyroid hunting sessions, we hung out at the main campsite and did a little baking. Ned taught us how to make pumpkin brownie pecan pie, a specialty at the Dub Step Pie Club. That, along with the cubeyberry pie he brought from home, were some of the best pies I've ever had! Tomorrow we're gonna make peach lolliberry pie, another favorite at the club.

Lulu's so cute when it comes to finding gyroids! Seeing her get excited and waddling around while carrying a gyroid - which looks huge in her little arms - my heart just can't take it! She's also become quite a chatterbox - I love hearing her point out things at the camp and getting excited about everything. Lulu's definitely the type of kid who's not afraid to take a tumble and get her hands dirty. It's so cool to see more of her personality come out, especially now that she's talking. If Lulu keeps this up, I'm pretty sure Kelly's gonna straight up die of cuteness before the end of this event.

Livvy has been enjoying the great outdoors, especially after a stressful couple of weeks at school. She's a business major with a minor in humanities - the latter which kinda happened and she decided to go along with it because, why not? It's more work, but she's not complaining too much because she enjoys the classes. Since going off to college, Livvy started a study/productivity vlog called coffeelivvy, where she posts about study tips as well aesthetic and practical notes. I enjoy watching her videos while journaling, especially her plan with me bullet journal videos.

Gutsy's been busy with Lulu and the cafe. She's into making bread these days so later this week we're gonna make baguettes, which sounds fun! I'll admit, the process of making bread - as in with yeast and proofing and such - sounds kinda intimidating, but with a pro like Gutsy, the process seems less daunting. Since working at the cafe, Gutsy found out that she has a knack for baking as well as making latte art. So along with some decadent pies, we also got to enjoy lattes with the pretty milk foam designs - a winning combo that's perfect for a camping event!

Kelly's on spring break too, a well deserved vacation after a busy semester. She reminds me of Alex and Claire, being the kind of person who does a lot of extracurriculars and manages to be on top of everything academically. Along with being in the Coloratura Jazz Band, Kelly's also a volunteer of the Asian Pride Film Festival, a video editor for Leicester Academy Theater, an RA, and captain of the badminton team. She also plans to take summer classes and go to Amsterdam for the the fall term, graduating in the winter.

Ned, of course, is managing the bakery of Dub Step Pie Club while juggling classes at Seashore Path. After taking a year off due to burnout, he returned for the spring semester, changing his major from English to business marketing. So far Ned finds his second go of college much less stressful than when he first enrolled, which is great to hear. I hope things turn out better for him this time around.

While collecting gyroids at Lost Lure Creek, we ended up taking a detour through the acorn trail. It's one of many places I haven't got to exploring yet so it was the perfect opportunity to finally check it out. Kelly took a bunch of pics of the trees with its warm autumnal colors. This area of the woods looks like it's fall all year round and it looks so pretty! And of course, the trees are full of cute little acorns that we had to take back to the camp.

Later on, while crafting gyroid furniture, we painted the acorns. It's been a long while since I've painted so naturally I was a little rusty at first. The idea for a painting session came about when Kelly mentioned that she and a friend led a Bob Ross style painting event at their dorm building that everyone enjoyed. Peaches and Lolly just bought some new paints so it was the perfect opportunity to try them out. I think my favorite is the acrylic gouache - something about painting with them is so satisfying to me.

Then we hung out at the beach, collecting shells, sea glass, and gyroids. Although it's bright and sunny out, it's not warm enough to go swimming yet. It was nice sitting out there under the warm sun, just hanging out with friends. We also did some fishing, catching some tuna that we later made into poke bowls for dinner. And for dessert, we had cubeyberry pie paired with a bottle of peach wine, courtesy of Gulliver.

Before heading back to the main camp, we dropped by the hangout sites to collect more gyroids before calling it a day. Lulu enjoyed helping out campers by bringing them fruit. I love seeing her chatter away to the campers and talking about fruit. Gutsy says that Lulu isn't afraid of strangers, which we clearly saw as she approached everyone she met. She's a little handful, keeping Gutsy and Livvy on their toes! I swear, you blink for less than a second and next thing you know, Lulu's run clear across the camp and trying to climb a tree or get into the water.

At some point, we got into an impromptu musical session starting with Kelly on the drums. Then Ned joined in with maracas, Livvy and Friga on guitar, Benedict on double bass, Soleil on keyboards, me on the toy piano, and Gutsy and Daisy Jane on percussion. Lulu was so cute dancing along to the music! I think we made a pretty good band - it sure helped passed the time while waiting for the gyroid stuff to be built!

Today we crafted the harpsichord, a galaxy themed dulcimer/synth, and a star shaped hybrid of a ukulele and violin. Like I said earlier, the designs of these instruments are amazing! Plus, they sound fantastic! We had so much fun making music - I can't wait to build more stuff and create even more music!

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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dredreadsdrawing · 4 years

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Day 3: Love, using the template created by @benjiweird

First and foremost.... i really dreaded posting these sketches lol. oof i cringe at my faces ;~; but i worked ALL DAY on em so bleh.

Secondly.... This is the third and last story of the Demon Pact ogs that I'll tell this month. The story of the lovers. Inspired by middle school me falling in love with the vocaloid song Black Vow lol. The story goes as follows:

Arthur was born a girl, and always despised it. He felt unlucky, disgusting, revolted by his entire being. He envied men with a passion, and felt disdain towards the women in his life for silencing his feelings. He succumbed to his research for a way out, and came across a summoning ritual to get what he wanted. A new body.

It took months of summoning the wrong sorts until he finally found one he wanted. A high level demon with a proficiency in carving human flesh. With a contract signed, and numerous souls promised, he was finally able to get a new body. Coincidentally, a war was started, and he signed up as a ploy into getting a new identity.

He was reckless, ruthless, and unafraid. His compatriots saw him as a role model, while his demon gladly sat by to collect her due.

She struck gold with this human, not having to lift a finger after simply reforming his body. She decided to leave him alone, finding it not necessary to hover over his shoulder his entire life. She would simply pay him a visit every now and then.

Once the war was done and everyone went back, Arthur was adopted into a tycoon's social circle. He had come to see Arthur as a brother, and they together opened a business made immediately successful by Arthur's notoriety. He had it made.

The years kept coming and as everyone married, he stayed stubbornly single. He was mocked endlessly for it, but he was never bothered. He had yet to find an attraction to anyone, and concluded by himself that it was a fault in his body switch. It was the only reasoning he could find.

One gala, he visited the south to meet with a partner and past associate. Arthur's eye is unexpectedly caught by his sister, a woman he never once spoke of.

A quiet girl with no input of her own, but with expressions that betrayed her mind. And a blind gaze that made Arthur's shoulders feel heavy with the weight of his sins. Ethel was her name.

He was breathless. But his logic concluded she was merely a first crush. She was surely no different than the other docile women of high society. Her judgemental attitude was a trick of his head, looking for someone to finally see through him. That was it.

On the night that was meant to be his last, he roamed their mansion to get to a balcony. She was there, alone. For the first time in his stay, she spoke. He was hung on her every word.

It started as an accusation. "I am a woman alone, and you are a male visitor, approaching me without my asking, at night. Should I be screaming, Mr. Murphy?"

Thanks to his diffusal, it toned down to opinionated discourse.

She vented on her frustrations in life; becoming blind, being infantalized, and her family looking at her like spoiled goods, never to be wanted in a marriage.

Arthur listened, and took everything in. She was smart. She had a temper. And when he encouraged her to let it out, she knew curses he'd only heard come from the battlefield after his comrades swigged whisky. They were laughing and enjoying the other's company.

Morning came, and they hadn't slept a wink. Arthur commented on how bad this would be for his travel. Ethel wished out loud that she could have the same complaint. Arthur held his nerve for what came next.

After a single night of talking, he suggested to her he take her away.

Her family eagerly let her go. They never expected her, now past the marriageable age and without sight, to find a suitor, much less one close to a family member and so well-endowed.

They married, but internally, they were still just friends, traveling the country in search for new business ventures. He trusted her with his plans, and she trusted him with her opinions. The more they lived together, the more he shared, and their platonic friendship eventually crossed into a romantic one as he came clean about his demon.

And his original body.

While miffed at first because she thought he was pulling a prank on her, she started to believe him when his demon came to visit for the first time in a decade.

His demon was annoyed at his lack of more souls, but he concluded he paid her enough. He didn't see a reason to be forced to take lives anymore. And the ones he already had haunted his sleep nonstop.

He was adamant that he had paid enough.

It was with this conversation that the demon noticed his wife's presence... And her condition. Blindness? She could cure it. His eyes widened and her fangs gleamed. For a price, of course.

The demon left to give him more time to think it over, and Ethel had heard every word of his seemingly one-sided conversation. While still not entirely convinced, she knew he was scared of the thing he saw. She reassured him she was happy as she was, that she didn't need to see.

But as he held her that night, his love for hee overwhelmed him, and her words were thrown aside. He knew her struggles and the sights she missed. He had already modified one body for the souls of many. For his wife, he could throw in some more.

huehuehue i stop this now but I'll tease, this is a romantic tragedy. I love the ending I've planned for it... Though it makes me cry XD oof.

#traditional art #monster #monster girl #sketches #Demon girl #Angel #Angel monster #Digital art #Oc tober #Oc-tober #Ocs #Ethel #Arthur #Aimful Gaze #Demon Pacts #Trans #Trans oc #Trans man #My art

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nerdy-as-heck · 5 years

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Bitterly By Your Side

A/N: Me? Posting a fic for the first time in 8 months? I'm just as surprised as you are. Ao3 Link

Summary: Logan is a world-renowned author, but not for his scientific journals. For a romance novel he never intended to publish, and an upcoming movie that would finally get the two it was inspired by together.

Ships: Pre-Prinxiety, background Logicality

Warnings: None

There were a lot of things in this world that didn’t make much sense to Logan. What made someone hate a specific group of people for an unchangeable part of their identity? Why would some people continue to believe a falsehood even after being shown irrefutable evidence? Why the fuck is college so expensive? But this. This went beyond every question that Logan could ask himself. Any amount of logic he tried to apply would shatter into a thousand pieces.

For years, Logan had been a distinguished author. Dozens of academic papers, journals, books, and articles were published under his name, making more breakthroughs in science than one could have ever imagined possible. Some were small advancements, granted, but none were insignificant. But that’s not why the general public knows Logan’s name.

Ten years getting a PhD in Astrophysics and one Nobel prize later, Logan Berry’s name is on the Best-Selling Romance Novel section in every bookstore across the country. And Logan will continue to blame his husband for it every time someone asks.

Not that it was really /entirely/ Patton’s fault. Both of them had been sick of Roman and Virgil’s pining that had been going on since freshman year of college. At least Logan’s infatuation had only lasted a month or so before bluntly asking Patton if he finds him physically attractive; that story always gets a laugh every time they tell it. The four of them had been suitemates during their first year, with Logan and Roman sharing their room while Patton and Virgil had the adjoining one. That was nearly twelve years ago, and yet the two of them still seemed to be clueless as to the other’s emotions, even with all four of them once again living in the same apartment.

All Patton had said was he wished there was a way to see them get together, like a movie or something. Now, Logan couldn't direct or act, but he could write. So, naturally, he did the only thing a sane person would do; he stayed up for three days straight writing a 300 page chaotic mess of the two falling in love. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic, and it definitely ended up being far longer than he had intended. But Logan’s train of thought never seemed to stay quite on track when it came to making his soulmate happy.

Of course, Logan had no interest in simply reading it over and over again himself; he printed out the pages and presented it to Patton as an early birthday present. Logan was under the impression that Patton knew it was a simple gift for his eyes only, nothing more. But Patton hadn’t quite gotten that impression.

Logan hadn’t necessarily made it a ‘fanfiction’. Yes, it was about two hopelessly oblivious in love college roommates that got together in the end. The thing that kept it unique was neither character revealing their actual name until the very ending, instead choosing to use a nom de plume. In this particular case, Roman had called himself “Merlin” and Virgil went by “Storm”. Neither the reader nor the characters within the story would learn their true names until the last chapter.

Apparently Patton did not read to the last chapter. Instead, about halfway through, he had believed it was a good idea to take it straight to a publisher; he couldn’t believe Logan had trusted him with the draft of his first novel!

It wasn’t until Logan got a copy of the book in the mail, fully printed and with his name on the cover, did he realize why Patton hadn’t commented on it after finishing. “Bitterly By Your Side” was already in every store in town and quickly spreading. Logan quickly pulled Patton into their shared room to discuss this with him and show the last page; needless to say, Patton was humiliated that he had done such a thing. It took hours to calm him down. Logan simply believed the book would not be popular and it would be taken down from the shelves in a matter of a few weeks.

He could not have been more wrong.

People slowly began to recognize Logan on the streets, asking for photos or to sign their copy of the book. Stores would reach out to him and schedule book signings, which Logan reluctantly went to as a chance to promote some of his other works. No one was buying any of that.

This was about two years ago. Logan had always scolded Roman and Virgil for not reading as often as they should, but it was unexplainable how grateful he was that they never listened. Not once in those years did the two step foot in a bookstore, see Logan scatter away for a photo when he was found in public, or questions the ‘meeting’ Logan seemed to be going to every other week.

By this point, Logan had gotten used to how things were. It was bringing in money to support the entire group, and no one was hurting for it. Though it still confused him why this was the case, he had accepted it as an unexplainable cosmic phenomenon. Logan didn’t even think twice when allowing a company that approached him to make a movie adaptation, with the promise that Logan could supervise on site, of course.

Months later, and somehow the two’s obliviousness had only gotten worse. It was a true miracle that they never noticed Logan being gone all the time or that Roman didn't pick up on the potential movie acting gig. Though the last wasn’t much of a coincidence; Logan always checked their mail and tossed out any advertisements for it.

Logan had only looked over one important detail; the company picking up the story was Disney. And regardless if they had heard about it before, Virgil and Roman both had a dedication to watching it together day it shows up on Netflix. Patton would always tease Virgil about it being their little “date night”, which would be received by a shove and Virgil’s hood coming up to hide his face.

On the night that this happened, Logan was out late at a midnight book signing, and Patton had agreed to go with to drive him home in case Logan was too exhausted. So for the first time in quite a while, Roman and Virgil had the whole apartment to themselves for movie night. As tradition, Virgil grabbed popcorn, snacks, and drinks, running back to the couch just before Roman clicked play.

“Are you ready for what is sure to be the GREATEST FILM of ALL TIME?”

“You say that every time, Princey. Bitterly By Your Side may be Disney, but its a dumb romance too. It can’t be that good.”

Of course Roman scoffed at that, but before he could continue the argument, Virgil just threw a handful of popcorn at his face and hit play. Storm happened to be the first character that came on screen, and the second Roman saw the actor’s face he gasped and leaned forward.

“That man… Is the love of my life.” Virgil couldn’t help but to laugh at the dramatics of such an early declaration, and for a short time Roman stared at Virgil rather than at the movie.

“You think that guy is good looking? Don’t be ridiculous, he looks like a ten year old that got into his mom’s makeup.” Roman could only glare at Virgil for a few minutes before Merlin came on screen. And then it was Roman’s turn to laugh as Virgil’s jaw literally dropped.

“You can’t be serious! Storm is far more attractive than /that/ over dramatic piece of work!” Virgil didn’t even have the words to argue at the moment, simply shoving a hand over Roman’s mouth as Merlin already had a shirtless scene. It wasn’t more than five seconds later, though, that Virgil realized what he had done and practically shrieked, crawling to the other side of the couch. “S-Sorry… But if that doesn’t prove Merlin is the best, then nothing will.” A simple joke had now turned into a full out war between the two, pointing out each small quality in the other character that made them far superior.

“Look at Storm’s purple eyes! And that long hair, I just want to run my hand through it and kiss that man.”

“They’re probably contacts anyway! Merlin has the swoop in his hair that at least doesn’t block his /actual/ green emerald eyes!”

“But that’s the thing, Storm is so shy yet abrasive at the same time! His hiding just makes his natural beauty all the better!”

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over Merlin’s fifth shirtless scene.”

Of course, it was all joking banter. Despite the insults thrown from time to time, this was a typical thing for the two of them, and tonight wasn’t any different. It only finally died down at a point where the movie was getting ready to end. For some reason, Roman was a moron. Well. Virgil knew that already. A cute moron, but still a moron, one that had decided to run to the bathroom right after the climax of the movie and refused to let Virgil pause it. In the short time, Roman was gone, that was all the movie needed to make Virgil’s fight or flight response kick in.

“Now that we’re dating, shouldn’t I at least get to know your name, angel?”

“...Its Virgil.”

“Roman. A pleasure to finally meet the real you.”

That was. A weird coincidence. But with anxiety, nothing ever felt like things could be so coincidental. So once Roman came back, Virgil was on his phone, googling the book, and every word he read just made his face burn even more.

Bitterly By Your Side is a romance novel by Logan Berry, published in 2017. In recent interviews, he has confessed to it being inspired by real life events and people he knows, though for now he wishes the details to remain private.

...Oh Logan is so dead when he gets back.

“H e y!” Virgil was next to be assaulted with popcorn as he pulled his hood up to avoid Roman seeing his face right now. “Get off your phone and watch the eye candy! Storm is back on screen!”

...Storm. The character inspired by Virgil. That Roman had been calling hot all night long. And Virgil had done the same to Merlin. Virgil didn’t focus much on the rest of the movie, far too busy trying to hide his ever reddening face and cursing the entire world. Once the movie finally ended, Roman stood up to give the TV a round of applause. But before the credits, there was one more thing…

And now, an interview with the author of the original book: Logan Berry!

Roman was understandably shocked and sat back down, confused as to when Logan had written a book without telling them. With every word spoken on the show, Virgil’s heart sunk deeper and he made another promise to kill Logan tomorrow.

Yes, it is true that this novel was inspired on true events. I have two friends that have been obliviously in love with each other for nearly twelve years now, despite mine and my husband’s encouragement for them to confess. Storm and Mer- Well, I suppose I can use their real names now, it's no spoiler since this is shown after the movie. I don't blame either Virgil or Roman for their hopeless pining, it's just something my husband tired of and wished to see come to life in case it never did in person.

After that sentence, Roman was quick to turn off the TV. At least now it made sense why Virgil had curled up into a ball on the couch during the interview. Silence. Silence that lasted far too long for either of them to stand, yet neither had the will to break it.

Surprisingly, Virgil was the one to swallow his pride first. “...so. Eye candy, huh?”

Not even a second later, Virgil felt a pillow hit his head. “Oh shut up! You’re one to talk! Drooling in every shirtless scene in the whole movie!”

There wasn’t a coherent comeback in Virgil’s mind, so instead he just flipped Roman off from his hoodie protection. Roman, being the prick he was, couldn’t let it go so easily though, grabbing Virgil’s hand and ignoring his own pounding heart as he pulled the two closer together. Safe to say, Virgil felt like he was going to explode. “You know the real thing is always better than fiction.”

And then for some unknown reason, one that he would claim to this day as temporary insanity, Virgil’s mind had decided it was time for him to be the moron today. The only thing he could think to do was kiss Roman, so he did. Both were surprised and afraid, but neither pulled away. Not in the first few minutes, not even in the first hour. It was a scene that easily could have rivaled the masterpiece of a movie in itself. By the end of it, they were both out of breath and exhausted, choosing to simply sleep together on the couch.

“...goodnight, Storm…” “Night, Merlin.”

Still. They were going to kill Logan in the morning. But for now, it was just them, and that was enough.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #au #author!logan #mutual pining #pining #domestic logicality #first kiss #crush #bitterly by your side

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