#at least for a couple of weeks. holy moly

[robinismywife]

[ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 ] (p.2)

PAIRING: Elvis Presley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Y/n invites Elvis to her 20th birthday party in hopes to gain his attention. However, it leads to bigger things than she could even dream of...

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking / vomiting, kissing, Elvis being a flirt ;)) If I missed any inform me!!

A/N: Hi!! Thank you so much for the support you showed to my idea! I can't believe you keep showing me so much love every day and especially to one of my favourite things I've ever written Young and Beautiful!! It means the world to me truly! I apologize for taking so long but this whole series needs a lot of planning! I hope you like this as much as I do and get ready for the rollercoaster that's to come <33

WORD COUNT: 3k

[Young and beautiful] (p.1)

(the gif isn't mine!!)

The party was booming, yet Y/n couldn't help but feel a little dissapointed deep down. She should have known this would happen, her friends told her that this would be a risk but she did it anyway. Now she felt truly stupid, to think that she had any effect whatsoever on the biggest star in America: Elvis presley.

After meeting him a week prior in the studio, she was falling faster for him than she thought. So, her overly eager 19-year-old self took it upon herself to invite the man to her huge birthday party.

Her father was very much against it in the beginning, thinking that Elvis would be a bad influence on his young daughter. Y/n knew he wasn't entirely wrong- Elvis was indeed a couple years older and much wilder, being a celebrity and such. Perhaps it could be very easy for Y/n, an almost 20-year-old that's studying Music theory at college, to stray away from the right path- or at least the path her family expected her to stay on.

In spite of all that Y/n couldn't actually care less. She desperately wanted to be with Elvis and she was going to do anything to win him over. Now that she was thinking about it, this was a very bratty mindset but it's merely the product of her parents great affections and wealth. She wasn't responsible for it, thus she didn't dwell on it much.

"Girls do you think he's coming? Be honest?" Y/n frowned deeply, her hands fidgeting with the red reusable cup in her hands. If it wasn't for the thriving party around her, she would be vomiting in the toilet right now.

"Y/n I can't believe you're still hung up on that guy-" Daphne started, holding a beer can that she'd stolen from the fridge. Y/n was sure her father would be pissed about the fact that most of his precious beer had been stolen by a bunch of sweaty 20-year-olds.

"He's not just some guy, Daph?!" Lily cried out dramatically "He is the Elvis Presley and our Y/n has the chance to win his affections!"

"All I'm saying is that she should be grounded and- " Daphne paused for a second and her jaw dropped the moment she looked behind Y/n "Holy moly, hun.."

"What? What is it?" Y/n turned around and her eyes found him. He was right there, pouring himself a cup of spiked punch. He looked ethereal standing there with his perfectly styled jet black hair and expensive watch adorning his wrist. She could do nothing but turn back around and face her friends with a shocked expression.

"Oh my goodness! What do I do?!" Y/n whisper-yelled at her friends who looked back at her with great enthusiasm.

"What you're going to do is talk to him-" Daphne grabbed Y/n's shoulders viciously

"And you're going to ask him for an autograph- I need it in my collection- " Lily and Daphne smiled at y/n encouragingly, making her sigh in preparation for the possible humiliation.

Y/n patted down her velvety dress and made her way to the bouffee. This could either be a cruel joke on her or Elvis was actually interested in seeing her again. She definetly preffered the latter.

She gathered up the courage and poked him in the back a couple of times. Elvis turned around in surprise looking even more beautiful up close. Y/n could have fainted then and there.

"Hi" She smiled gently, trying desperately to hide the nerves and her extreme enthusiasm

"Hiya doll," He smirked back then clinked his plastic cup against hers "Happy birthday and everythin', hope you're having fun" Y/n really couldn't understand how this man could be so confident and cocky but so awkward at the same time.

"Now that you're here I am" She stated boldly. Y/n might as well jump head first into this, she has absolutely nothing to lose but her dignity at worst.

"Really?" Elvis' brow quirked and he chuckled in amusement "Well, I'm glad to be of service, baby"

Baby. Baby!? Oh Y/n could cry. This was the best birthday gift by far. Not even the hair rollers Lily got her could compete with this.

"So, Elvis, are ya enjoying your time at the studio?" Y/n asked not wanting the conversation to die out. That would be embarassing.

"Yeah, it's good to be back, ya know? Making music and all that- It feels exciting" Elvis spoke looking down at the drink in his hand. He looked absolutely adorable smiling at his drink all shy. Y/n had to fight the urge to smother him in kisses.

"I hope my daddy ain't giving you much trouble, he's always been such a perfectionist" Y/n casually took a sip from her drink

Elvis laughed slightly "Nah, he's great. I'm thrilled to be working with him really- He's a very charismatic man, has an ear for music"

"well, don't you ever tell him that, he won't believe ya" She found herself finally relaxing under his piercing gaze. It just felt so natural to talk with him. "He's too humble, that man"

"Believe me I know" Elvis raised his eyebrows in agreement "if you were in the studio you'd know how many compliments he brushes off"

"I keep having to remind him to take a compliment once in a while- Every Saturday that I'm there it's always the same thing" Y/n grinned, recalling her fathers flustered face.

"You're there on Saturdays?" Elvis' face lit up suddenly

"Yeah, don't ya remember? We met on a Saturday" She stiffled a laugh at his shocked features

"Right- right- I-I-I forgot about that," Elvis cleared his throat a bit and the confident look appeared on his face again "Well, do you sing or somethin', honey?"

"I don't know if I'm any good, but I do a bit of singing, yeah- Why do you ask Elvis?"

"Just wondering," He took a sip of his drink and resumed his sentence "Wouldn't mind a duet with ya"

"Me?! A duet with you?! You're insane Elvis!" Y/n laughed incredulously

"Why not?" He chuckled warmly "I have a bunch of songs that are in need of a voice like yours"

"You haven't even heard me once Elvis! I could be absolutely useless!"

"I'm prepared to take that risk, hun'"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

And he did take that risk. The very next day Elvis had invited Y/n to the studio to check out some new songs. Now, Y/n and her father had just arrived, parking right in front of the entrance of the huge building. She took a deep breath before they both got out and walked in.

The space immidiately brought a sense of comfort to her. Y/n had been accompanying her father to the studio for at least a decade now. Therefore, some of her fondest memories with her father had been made there.

The two of them greeted the secretery and she waved back hastily in the midst of making phonecalls.

"Are you nervous, sunshine?" Y/n's father smiled sympathetically as he filled some cups with warm coffee.

"Can you blame me?" She chuckled, however, the butterflies in her stomach were still intense

"Well, ya shouldn't worry sweetheart, Mr.Presley is indeed a gentleman"

Y/n smiled at that, recalling the previous night they spent together, talking and laughing. Before she knew it, her father had filled the cups with the warm beverage and they'd reached the studio.

"Good morning boys!" Her father spoke loudly as they entered the spacious room.

There they all were, sitting around the coffee table on comfortable armchairs. On the table a bunch of papers were spread, not leaving much room for the coffee Y/n and her father had brought with them.

The rest of the boys didn't lift their heads, only Elvis did. His eyes landed on Y/n and lit up. For all she knew she could have been a stack of gold by the way his face was covered with admiration. Obviously, she didn't know that Elvis was admiring her and how the morning sun hit her just right as it bled into the room. Y/n looked even prettier than the night before.

"Good morning" She spoke, a lump forming in her throat, as the two other men shifted their focus to her.

Elvis finally leaped up from his chair "Y/n's singin' with me today, boys" then he faced her with a comforting smile "That's Scotty and Bill, you've seen 'em before"

"Yes, I certainly have, pleasure" Y/n shook hands with both of them and the session began.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Y/n was already aware that today she would be surrounded with individuals much more talented and professional than she could ever be. Now, everybody knew that Elvis sang like an angel but when Scotty and Bill picked up their instruments, Y/n swore that she was in heaven. The three of them were magical.

At the moment, they were preparing for a song that seemed to make Elvis unusually nervous. However, he was trying to cover it up by making small talk with The Jordanaires, his background singers.

"Y/n? Y/n?" Y/n's vision was blocked by Scotty's hand waving in front of her face "You're distracted" Scotty told her knowingly, a smirk appearing on his face. He was a very sweet boy but also very disciplined when it came to work. Although, Y/n liked that about him, right now all she wanted to do was stare at Elvis.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just-" Y/n leaned closer to the guitarist to whisper " Elvis seems nervous- I mean look at how he's jittering"

"He's always jittering, Y/n" Scotty told her as if he was trying to avoid saying anything

"Scotty look at him" Y/n said seriously

"Well, if you pay attention to the sheet music you'll understand" Scotty looked at her expectantly as she examined the paper and Y/n suddenly felt grateful for her ability to read sheet music. Her eyes widened when they landed on the last chord progression.

"Scotty that's a really high note" Y/n spoke in shock

"Yeah, no shit," Scotty sighed "He's been practicing all week"

"Well, a vocal coach could-"

"Help? Nah, he's too stubborn- Says he wants to do it by himself"

"That's stupid"

"Tell me about it," The man shrugged and got up, ready to record "Boys are y'all ready?"

And they began recording. Y/n stood next to The Jordanaires once again to sing the background vocals. The song was going particularly well until Elvis stopped singing mid-verse.

"EP you good, man?" Bill asked, side-eyeing Scotty who shrugged

"Nah, I-I-I just um-" Elvis' eyes wandered anxiously around him until they landed on her and finally seemed to relax "Y/n come 'ere, baby"

"Next to you?" Y/n was getting nervous too now. She was not prepared for this. Doing the background vocals was a piece of cake, but doing a duet with America's best singer was taking it too far. Elvis obviously had faith in her, however, knowing herself Y/n was very likely to ruin the whole session.

"Yeah, we're sharing the microphone," Elvis spoke with his hands resting on his hips and a playful grin "Don't feel right without ya"

"But-"

"Just do me the favor, doll," He pleeded with his eyes, just like a little kid would "I promise this will turn out so good"

Thus, Y/n obeyed. She walked next to him, placing her sheet music on the stand before them. Her hands were shaking quite a bit, making her even more self consious than before. Why was she finding it so hard to be a professional for once? If she actually wanted to follow this profession, she would have to stop looking and acting so mortified.

When Elvis noticed her fidgeting and shaking, he couldn't help but feel the need to comfort her. That's why his large and warm hands found themselves on top of her own cold ones. Something he didn't expect is how well they fit together, just like puzzle pieces. Usually these kind of situations made Elvis want to run away and not look back, but for the first time he felt as if he was doing the right thing.

"You know how to sight read?" He asked her quietly, trying to take her mind off of the singing.

"Yeah, I was in my church's choir when I was younger" Y/n answered, very much aware of her hands being engulfed by his. Not that she minded it, it was just surprising and a bit overwhelming.

"Gospel, huh? Gotta listen to ya sing some of those tunes one day, baby" She didn't miss the enthusiasm in his voice at the thought of Gospel music. Elvis was a very spiritual person.

Before Y/n could answer, the instruments had already started playing the upbeat tune of Now or never.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Thank ya fellas- We'll make it big with this record" Elvis chatted with the men around him.

"You're already big, E" Chuckled Bill, taking the last sip of his now cold coffee.

"Nah, I tell ya, boys- I can feel it- This record we're cuttin' will be the start of something big" Elvis' eyes were filled with hope. Now, that he was out of the army he felt unstoppable.

Y/n kept quiet as she picked up her things and shoved them in her bag. Elvis has been praising his friends for at least five minutes, but didn't even look at her after the recording stopped. She couldn't understand what his problem was. He had been so sweet to her, so gentle, and now he's ignoring her. Y/n felt used. Used for the perfect recording and then thrown away. What if she becomes just a name on a list of all the girls the king of rock and roll dated? What if she becomes a bitter old woman sometime in the future writing a book about the "real" Elvis Presley? What if she hates him soon? She should stop spiraling.

Elvis was waving goodbye to his friends as they left the studio, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were alone and Y/n hadn't even noticed how quickly that came to be. So, she picked up her bag awkwardly and headed to the door without a word, as he watched her with confusion.

"Where you going?" He grabbed her wrist with a frown

"Home. I'm sure my daddy's waiting for me outside" She spoke coldly, trying to rip her hand from his grasp. Y/n still had some dignity left and she wasn't going to give in to his tactics.

"Don't treat me like that baby, what did I do?" His frown now deepend as he walked closer to her

"Don't call me baby, Elvis" He was making it extremely hard being mad at him when these nicknames sounded so good rolling off his tongue.

"Why? You don't like it?" Elvis smirked as if he could read her thoughts "You're squirming under my touch, honey" and thats when he held her face with his one hand, as the other snaked around her waist. Y/n hated to admit it but everything that he was doing felt so right.

After a bit of silence and looking at each others lips, Y/n couldn't handle it anymore, she had to say something. "Say something sweet to me, Elvis"

"Hmm," He chuckled lightly "You wanna hear it, don't ya? How good you were, singing your little heart out?" And she couldn't help but nod, all common sense was thrown out the window from the moment he touched her anyways.

"You were good, baby, so so good for me," His lips were now almost on hers, and she was so eager for him to close that gap "You're my muse" and he kissed her.

He was eager, yet gentle. Y/n had been kissed before but this could not compete with the unexperienced and lanky boys from college. Elvis was skilled with his hands as they roamed her body in a way that she had never been touched before. He made her feel beautiful, like he was a sculptor and she was a statue of a greek godess. His touch brought her to life.

"Elvis- Elvis stop-" Y/n pulled away suddenly

"D-Did I do something wro-?"

"Someone's coming" They both quieted down and the sound of a man's laughter reached their ears. Y/n could recognise that laugh anywhere "My daddy's coming!" she whisper-yelled.

They both jumped off of each other, adjusting their clothes, just in time. Her father marched in still chuckling to himself as the two stood in front of the door uncomfortably.

"Hiya kids," Y/n's dad lifted his head and looked between the two of them, now looking uncomfortable himself. The tension was so thick Y/n could cut it with a knife.

"Everything alright, Elvis?"

"Yes, sir" Elvis nodded a little too aggresively

"Ready to leave, sunshine?" Y/n nodded now as well. After waving goodbye at an overwhelmed Elvis, she grabbed her fathers hand and they walked out of the studio.

When the both of them finally got in the car Y/n sighed, looking through her bag for her compact mirror. She prayed her makeup wasn't too messed up. They were almost caught, but there was something thrilling about the whole situation.

"You know you can talk to me right, sweetie?" Her father looked at her with a frown, and when she nodded in return he continued talking.

"Cause, if Mr.Presley is not acting appropriately- If he's being weird- You know boys, at his age, want different things-"

"Daddy!" Y/n looked up at him with shock written all over her face "I got the message- Can ya just drive us home please?"

"Sorry sweetheart"

Actually, Elvis was being quite inappropiate, but she liked it. It would be their secret. After that kiss Y/n felt like a whole different person, like something had awakened in her. She wasn't sure how to stop it, not that she wanted to. Elvis helped her feel so wild and alive. She felt as if she had spent her life living under some rock, and he took her out of that monotony. Y/n couldn't wait until the next time she would see him.

#elvis the pelvis #elvis and priscilla #elvis songs #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis photos #elvis film #elvis music #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley history #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley edit

[escapewriter]

decided to drop by after so long cause i miss your works and realized that i started reading them when you started your coffee house diaries! i believe you started them on 2021? just wanted to let you know that i was actually going through a really challenging time in my life and one of my coping methods was to read fanfiction and going delulu mode, and i remember being so so happy and excited whenever you would update, i would always look forward to it! you made my day slightly bearable with your works💛

jump to 2023 and i'm over that challenging phase now and moving on to doing other stuff that i'm only able to come back here once in a while. coffee house diaries will always have a special place in my heart! thank you for writing them and making my day better! i know it's not completed yet but just know that i will be there when it does!

honestly, i came here to say that i hope you're always doing well!! i hope you're doing okay and that everything is going well for you author!!💛❤️🫂

OKAY THIS WAS ONLY FROM A COUPLE WEEKS AGO SO IM NOT TOO LATE.

but holy moly, i honestly have no words. i am so happy that you are in a better place. i never really realized the impact that anything i wrote on here had on some people.

im so glad that you were able to find some joy in my writing, i find joy in it too :)

thank you so much for taking the time to come here and open up to me and for saying all these nice things. i hope you’re doing great and i hope you continue to find joy wherever you go.

i know my updates aren’t like once a day or even a week, but i promised myself to at least finish chd. so hopefully ill see you at the finish line ;)

#anon #escapewriter.ask #coffee house diaries ask

[bishophazel]

If You Know, You Know

CW: talk of TERFs

It’s been a while since I posted here, and, at least for now, I’m going to leave details vague as this has been a stressful situation and people have even gotten death threats. So, like the title says: if you know, you know.

So, here’s the story: a North American outlet posted a story about a music festival in Canada, and how a certain band “sent roadies and crew into the crowd to recruit women to sleep with the bandmembers backstage after the show.” This has since been taken down, but since I WAS FUCKING THERE, I’d like to clarify: this absolutely did not happen. The band in question left almost immediately to catch a flight. I *tried* to get backstage. 

In the past couple of weeks, we have seen a lot of media circus, flawed reporting, fear mongering, and straight up lying, and a lot of people in destress. 

In the aftermath, I am seeing two potentially dangerous conversations forming. 

1) that concerts need ‘female only spaces.’ This, to me, is starting to stink of TERF territory. 

2) that an artist should be able to be incriminated because of the content of their art. As a friend pointed out, as long as no one was harmed in the creation of the art, this is censorship. If the song lyrics one sings on stage makes them a criminal, what about the people who write murder mysteries? Horror movies? Paint gore? This is censorship. There is a separation between the self and the literary ‘I,’ and this is why we need the humanities. 

I’m especially uncomfortable about TERFy language entering into the heavy metal world. I’ve been to multiples of these shows around the world. They’re absolutely crawling with security. What are female only spaces supposed to do? How do these address trans and nonbinary folks? Is there actually a problem to be fixed, or are we making problems? 

And I can’t help but draw mental lines between the censoring of art to the book bannings taking place in my own country. The two penguin dads can’t fucking hurt you.

This has been an absolute shit fountain to watch, I’ve waded through legal language and interviews in two languages before drawing my own conclusions. I’m exhausted and mad. I know we’ve lost media accountability to a large extent but holy moly. 

Anyway, again. If you know, you know. If you read this, thank you, even if you are confused by it. 

If you have no idea what’s going on, all I’ll say is: be mindful of censorship: just because you don’t like a piece of art, doesn’t mean it can incriminate the artist and should be banned. And be mindful of TERF language and how it enters conversations.

fuckin’ cheers everyone. 

#censorship #media #social media #media accountability #female only spaces #transphobia #concerts #live music #music festivals

[slytherwrites]

holy moly, me oh my, you’re the apple of my eye (girl i never loved one like you)

Summary: The mission is simple: Have the best Valentine’s Day he can, all without Annabeth getting mad at him for it.

Characters: Malcolm Pace, Katie Garnder, and Annabeth Chase

Ship: Malcolm Pace/Katie Gardner; Percabeth mentions

Malcolm Pace has always tried his best to be the best person someone needed in any given situation. Sure, it means running himself ragged at times, but when he sees the relief roll off the shoulders of someone, he can’t help being filled with pride. And isn’t that what life is about?

At the moment, life’s about rebuilding and maintaining. 

Rebuilding camp and relationships. Rebuilding trust between those who had been falsely accused of being a traitor and rebuilding an army strong, in case this happens again. Filling up the holes left behind campers gone, no matter how big or small. Rebuilding all of the progress he’d gotten with education with the year-round campers and rebuilding the little things that brought joy around camp, like the strawberry fields and the arts and crafts tent.

Maintaining the structures itself. Maintaining the pursuit of knowledge, relationships, and joy. Maintaining the happy attitude Malcolm always tried to put out, as many young campers saw him as another adult figure, even if he was only a couple of weeks shy of sixteen. Maintaining the belief that the worst is over and that they finally have broken the curse of twenty. Maintaining the hope that after this, the dust is now settled and they’ll finally be able to rest and grow old, something demigods have never been able to do.

Malcolm Pace, at this moment in time is rebuilding Annabeth after Percy’s sudden disappearance and maintaining his relationship with Katie Gardiner, as she’s the brightest part of his life.

And in his mind there is only one problem with this: Keeping both of them happy.

Annabeth, despite what she tells everyone around her, simply cannot do it all. And Malcolm’s been the backbone of that forever. They’ve created a system for running the Athena Cabin and Camp Half-Blood at large. And she isn’t good with change, or with others having differing point of views as her. 

And Katie? She’s been understanding through it all. Head of the Demeter Cabin and the reason the strawberry fields have been keeping the camp afloat monetarily. But she deserves the best Valentine's Day he can give her.

So, the mission is simple: Have the best Valentine’s Day he can, all without Annabeth getting mad at him for it.

Malcolm Pace knows that the usual gift of flowers or chocolates won’t cut it. Katie’s a child of Demeter, she can get those things at a higher quality than he can afford. So, when the rest of the campers are buying (or stealing) things from the camp’s store, he’s decided to go out into the real world.

“C’mon, Athena child.” Argus never knows the names of campers, preferring to keep his distance, as he’s technically a monster, part of the monolith that’s been trying to kill them for centuries, “Just because I’m taking you up here, doesn’t mean that I’m going to be waiting on you.”

The camp ships out produce every friday in the large van Argus takes into the city to earn mortal money. But Argus does this alone and is easy to bribe with help.

“Thanks.” Malcolm pulls himself into the front seat, “My scent shouldn’t overpower yours, right?”

“Probably.” 

Argus heads off into the real world. The ride is bumpy, to say the least. Argus has been around since the invention of cars and yet, he probably hasn’t ever officially gotten his license—or even read a driver’s ed manual. Malcolm makes sure to buckle his seat belt and keep a hold onto the interior of the van. He knows all the ways a person can die in a car crash, from every angle of impact to every hazard available. And that knowledge isn’t pleasant when your driver drives like a madman.

He curses Will Solace and all the time he spent helping him in the infirmary.

Though, he does take the moment to properly see New York in the wintertime. It’s not as beautiful as it was on the solstice, when they were last outside of camp en masse, but the snow still shimmers and they go so fast that the unsavory bits flash by as blurs of color. Malcolm has to admit, Khione does a good job with the snow business. He almost doesn’t hate wintertime as much as other people do. Almost.

Argus slows down as they get closer to their destination—a marketplace, where he’ll be able to find the perfect gift for Katie. He turns onto backroads and is more careful on the icy roads. Chiron would have his hide for getting into a crash—especially after sneaking out a camper.

They pull into the clearing. It’s a park with several large gazebos and concrete paths interconnecting them. His heart drops for a moment, but he doesn’t go into an attack position. This isn’t fear or being battle-ready. No, he remembers the last time he was in any park at all—eight years ago, back with his mortal mother in North Carolina, when he was a boy. Though, it was significantly more colorful and warm, with its bright summer atmosphere and color filled playground installations. 

“Help me get these unloaded and you can get on with your business.” Argus says as he steps out, “but make it quick. And don’t steal anything, because I can’t have my reputation damaged.”

Malcolm laughs it off, taking in the area and series of stalls as he sets the boxes of prepackaged, but fresh strawberries. How nobody asks why they sell out of season fruit year round isn’t a concern to him in the slightest.

They get the area set up and a crowd already surrounds the Delphi Delivery Service stand. Malcolm slips through it and lets the mist shroud him like it does Argus, in case any monsters do happen to be nearby.

He circles the area, looking at the booths until he finds a small one situated in the edges, with lights strung across the table and sets of jewelry on display. The items look nice, almost too much so for a place like this, but it isn’t like he can go into the actual city to get something from a nicer establishment. Then Annabeth would really have his hide.

“Valentine’s Day shopping, I presume?” The lady working the station is young, early to mid twenties. Bundled up to the nines, she paces behind her product.

“Yeah.” Malcolm smiles, “It’s my girlfriend and I’s first Valentine’s day together.”

“That’s an occasion!” She smiles behind the large scarf muffling her voice, “Where did you meet?”

“We were neighbors.” Malcolm says, technically not a lie, “She lived in the place next to me and one day, we saw each other differently, in a new light. That was in September.”

“Coming up on six months then too!” The woman remarks, “She must make you happy, if you’re willing to brace the snow and cold like this.”

“You don’t even know.” The grin doesn’t leave Malcolm’s face as he purses the selection, stopping at a citrine set.

Malcolm knows a lot of things. Most are useless except for specific scenarios. And the knowledge that citrine is not only the November birthstone and the sacred gemstone of Demeter is one of those facts he’s always seemed to have tucked away in his brain.

“Is she a November baby?” The lady asks.

“Yeah.” Malcolm replies, “her birthday’s the nineteenth. We spent the day at the beach, just the two of us having a seaside picnic.”

“The cold really doesn’t bother you all, does it?” 

“It wasn’t too bad.” Malcolm grabs the set of citrine jewelry. It’s a flower set, with the gem in the center of a daisy design and it comes with a pair of earrings, a small necklace and two matching rings. “These are perfect.”

“You’re darling would love these.” The lady packages them up nice and hands them off to Malcolm, “and if you come back, bring her with you.”

Malcolm pays and smiles, “I will.”

Malcolm Pace, as a son of Athena, is incredibly smart with plans. He can orchestrate the machinations of armies and a classroom with dozens of neurodivergent demigods, but there’s one thing he’s never been able to do: wholly outsmart his sister, Annabeth Chase.

Malcolm knows this. Annabeth is the quintessential child of Athena, being able to house infinite information and actively seeking it out. But, she’s been distracted. And he may feel guilty about using her boyfriend’s disappearance and her need to get him back in order to be reckless, but he’s back now.

Malcolm, as a part of his plan, heads down to the basement of the Big House when nobody else is inside. He tucks away his gift for Katie in a box of camp records from the 1880s and messes up the place slightly, showing signs of activity.

He heads back upstairs in the nick of time in order to see Chiron, his sister, and Nico di Angelo wrapping up a conversation. They must’ve entered the Big House right after him, conversing while Malcolm was wrapping his cover up.

“Oh, hello Malcolm.” Chiron sees him first, and Malcolm waves, “Down in the basement today?”

“I was looking for demigod records for a lesson I’m teaching.” Malcolm replies, “Parental probability and all of that with the older kids.”

“Good luck.” Nico comments as Malcolm slides out of the room. Annabeth will tell him what happened, as soon as she’s able to. And, as if on cue, she exits first, mere moments behind Malcolm.

“We found di Angelo.” She catches up to Malcolm, jogging slightly, “He’s been in the Underworld, all this time.”

“Di Angelo?” Malcolm clarifies, seeding the hope that the savior of Camp Half-Blood wasn’t dead after all, like Malcolm presumed.

Annabeth smiles and as her cheeks compress the corners of her eyes, Malcolm can tell that they are watery, but not crying outright, “And Percy isn’t there!”

Well, Malcolm be damned. He’s been proven wrong.

“That’s great, Annabeth.” Malcolm doesn’t say anything else, because he can conjure a million fates worse than death.

Him and Annabeth walk together to the Athena cabin, “He’s agreed to help us find him. And with the Hunters of Artemis, we’ll get him in no time.”

Malcolm looks out into the distance at the other cabins, both Poseidon and Zeus’ are in eyeshot, “And the whole thing with Jason? Is there something with that?”

“He went on his quest and all that, but he doesn’t remember everything.” Annabeth says, “Huge swaths of his childhood, if what he says is true.”

“Do you not trust him?”

Annabeth looks at Malcolm and sighs, “A fifteen year old child of the big three who at one point was living with a much older child of the big three and was on his own for well over a decade without the knowledge he was a demigod or of this world at all?”

“How did he survive that long?” Malcolm takes the words out of her mouth.

“Something’s up with that.” Annabeth says, “I don’t trust it.”

“What if a similar thing happened to Percy?” Malcolm suggests, “Taken and is without a memory?”

“Who would do something like that?” Annabeth asks, then changes her mind, “Actually, with how many enemies he’s made, the list is probably too long to say.”

Malcolm offers her a weak chuckle as he follows her into the Athena cabin, “I don’t think you’d need help creating that list.”

“No, I don’t.” She laughs weakly, “Well, I know what I’ll be doing for the next couple of hours. Mind taking everyone to dinner? They’re at the arts and crafts section right now.”

“No problem, Annabeth.” Malcolm says, “You’ll figure this out and have Percy back before no time. If anyone can, it would be you.”

“Thanks Malcolm,” Annabeth replies, “Really. Thanks.”

Valentines Day came on a Monday, three days after he slipped out of camp to grab his gift. Last night, he retrieved it, under the guise of returning materials he’d pulled and went around into the kitchens to pre-prepare a picnic. He’d have classes throughout the day, meaning that he couldn’t have done it today.

And he’s lucky he did once lunch rolls around. The demigod classes were released for lunch and no one stayed behind, especially when Malcolm said he’d be generous and let them out on a half day.

Well, one person stayed behind. The light of his life, Katie Gardner. 

Even though it's wintertime outside, the weather controlled Camp Half-Blood sits comfortably in the mid 70s. She’s dressed in Malcolm’s favorite dress on her, a blue and grey sundress and she’s braided her hair with wildflowers, magically keeping them alive even after they’ve been plucked.

“Hey.” She smiles, leaning back against the desk Malcolm’s usually teaching at, “a little birdy told me that I should stay behind, teach.”

“Calling me a little birdy now?” Malcolm closes the door to the big house’s classroom area, “That’s a new one.”

“You look kind of birdlike.” She notes, “It’s cute.”

Malcolm scrunches his face as he heads to her relaxing only to look into her grass-green eyes. He smiles and then speaks, “You’re cute.”

“I think we’re both cute.” Katie bridges the gap between, pulling Malcolm into her lips by his shirt and not letting go until she’s had her fill.

“I, uh, yeah.” Malcolm’s pasty skin turns warm and red, a significant blush appears on his face, “We’re cute together.”

Katie laces her fingers in between his, joining themselves together at their hands, “So baby, what are we doing?”

Malcolm gently leads her to behind his desk, where he’s stashed his goods and then to the kitchens to grab the food. Sneaking past Annabeth isn’t difficult, since she’s wrangling a dozen children of Athena children and they’re not heading to the pavilion.

The sandy beaches of Long Island are empty and show off the wild ocean. It’s been on ease ever since Percy’s gone missing, but he picks a dry spot overlooking the water and surrounded by rocks to lay his blanket down.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be able to have the beach to ourselves, so let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” Malcolm sets the basket down and helps Katie sit comfortably. He pulls out the food, mini-sandwiches cut with cookie cutters in a variety of shapes and chips stolen from the camp store. Prepackaged sweets and soda bought off of the Stoll brothers are also set aside and Malcolm counts over it all, making sure everything was still there.

“I couldn’t care if anyone watched us, as long as we were together.” Katie kisses him on the cheek, then grabs some of the food he brought her, “Thanks for this, Mallie. I enjoy getting away for a moment.”

“Miranda’s covering for you, right?”

“Yeah, she knows about this.” Katie replies, “That’s alright, right?”

“As long as she doesn’t tell Annabeth.”

“Agreed.” Katie responds, then exclaims as she shuffles through her canvas bag, “I got you something!”

She pulls out a set of books, wrapped in twine with a little note attached to it.

“I got my dad to mail these out for me. I know that the Big House has a library inside and whatnot, but I think you’d enjoy some modern literature.”

“You remembered me talking about sci-fi?” Malcolm looks over the trilogy, quickly reading over the blurb and then the note attached, “None of it here is imaginative, since reality for us is so fantastical to others.”

“I never read it, but I heard that it’s celebrated for scientific accuracy and I want to hear what you think.” Katie says, “pick it apart with that big, beautiful brain of yours.”

“I’ll make sure to do so.” Malcolm pulls out his true gift, wrapped inside a much smaller package, “I know jewelry isn’t something you talk about a lot, but I see you wear a fair amount that the people at camp make for you. I’m not the best with the material, so I went out and got you some.”

Katie opens it, “Out as in..?”

“Outside of camp.” Malcolm confirms, “I bribed Argus into taking me out to the market where he sells your strawberries. They’re citrine. Gemstone of Demeter and your birth month.”

“Oh Malcolm,” Katie immediately goes to take off their current jewelry and slips on the new set, “I’m never taking this off.”

“You should every once in a while.” Malcolm notes and Katie laughs, “You know what I mean.”

“I do, darling.” Malcolm smiles, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do know that.” Katie leans towards him, “and I love you too.”

This time, Malcolm bridges the gap between them, “Good.”

#malcolm pace #pjo #pjo fanfic #katie gardner #annabeth chase #malcolm pace/katie gardner

[omeleta-omelete]

Gastronomy Day

Originally, this was supposed to be a one-shot for the #norma/frazie week. but it turned out very different from planned. Starting from the fact that I mashed up together lots of different prompts... and that I didn't wrote a one-shot at all.

Specially because I completely dislike Frazie and Norma as a couple. So, writing about them is an awesome way to both practice my writing and to challenge myself.

After all... maybe - only maybe they could be together, as long as Norma went through a huge change of heart. That's what this story is about, if I ever finish it .

For now, I hope you guys enjoy their rough begginings in the journey to love!

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

Chapter 1 → The Number One Student

Everyone at Whispering Rock High knew that lesser principal Hollis Forsythe could be the most engaged person ever alive if she wanted to. What no one ever imagined was that she would bring back to life the already forgotten Gastronomy Day, in which each of the pairs handpicked by teachers who never considered their students might prefer the company of friends rather than socializing with strangers, should prepare a dish that perfectly represented different cultures. Or that at least didn’t kill anyone from food poisoning.

The jury might not be demanding, but there was still a ranking: the top three would be awarded just like all the other pairs would, in a consolation that already took away all the non-existent fun in competing. At least, according to Norma Natividad’s opinion. The number one junior student, and also the first to consider such festivities as nothing more than a waste of precious time she could spend studying, instead of being by Fiorenza Aquato's side.

— Holy Moly, there’s even macadamia jam here! — I didn’t even know there was macadamia jam at all… like, how do you eat that? With bread? And is it good? It’s not like I know it, right? I’ve never even seen this before and...

Watching her rummage through the fridge was the most excruciating experience Norma could have in life. Mostly because, despite Lizzie telling her that Gisu Nerumen had told Sam, who told her that Fiorenza knew nothing but how to be the loudest as possible, she never imagined she’d be greeted by the hellish horn sound from that crap Dion Aquato dared to call a car. That Fiorenza would slam the door and ring the doorbell a thousand times. A tight hug… and a kiss on the cheek.

Besides being noisy, Fiorenza was also quick. Norma couldn’t even guess when she’d tossed her backpack onto the living room couch and headed for the kitchen, carrying only a blue grocery bag, as big and crammed as the magical bags featured in these cartoons she used to watch as a child. It was only then that Fiorenza opened the fridge, and from there she took out all the fancy foods Mr. and Mrs. Natividad had bought for a get-together between co-workers.

—… it would go so well with the sour cream I bought, right? But I have no idea where to use sour cream! I thought about we make some stew… can we add cream to a stew? Maybe yes, but only if we cook…

It was obvious that she also had to chatter nonstop, wandering around like a headless chicken — until she went silent. Her sea-blue eyes staring at Norma’s winged face so intensely it made her wake up from the trance she was in.

— Norma?

— Hm?

— Is it all right? — She asked as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.

However, Norma was now empty-headed. And so her usual wild ideas were summarized to how the kitchen floor must already be covered with lots of red hair strands, or to how many fingerprints weren’t impregnated in that darn macadamia jam jar.

— W-we’re going to make burritos.

— … what?

— Didn’t I tell you? — Oops… — but now that she was back, regaining her fake smile would be easy — we’re going to make the frozen burritos in that same fridge you just rummaged like a wild beast!

— But… shouldn’t we, like… cook?

— No one will know if we don’t.

— But-

— C’ mon! It’s not like someone cares about it.

— I do! — She exclaimed — And I-I didn’t convince my mom to let me bring all this stuff up for nothing! — Do you realize how difficult it is to convince a real Italian mamma… my mom, to lend you her favorite pasta machine?

— And why did you bring a fucking pasta machine? Didn’t you want to make stew? A macadamia stew or… whatever? — Then she massaged her temples.

— Oh… I was still confused about what to do when I asked mammina about it. — She stretched her arms behind her head, smiling her wide, gapped teeth smile — The thing is that we will cook, yeah! And this is going to be the best… okay. Not the best. But still, I swear this is going to be a very tasty ciorbă de burta!

— Cio-r…?

— Ciorbă de burta.

She made her feel so pissed! And that mischievous laugh, wider and wider as the time passed… hell! Why did she have to get so damn close? Was she really that stupid to not realize-

— Whatever! — She raged — And this thing would be a…?

— Tripe stew!

— W-what?

— A tripe stew, you silly! But we can substitute the tripe - which I already bought - for burritos, since you are willing to use them that badly. — She playfully replied, with a well-placed flick on the tip of Norma's nose.

— No.

It had been a long time since Fiorenza had left her place behind the imposing, white marble kitchen countertop. Laughing heartily whenever she managed to ruffle the tousled curls of her newest, cornered and quitting friend (desperate too, though Frazie never noticed it). Whose fluffy shoulders she leaned so gladly on were identical to those owned by the sedentary ladies who used to watch her perform. Oblivious to how difficult a somersault really was, or to do a perfect jump - Norma might have been one of them, except she was too smart to not know the actual meaning of something.

— Only instead, we can make our own burritos… ah! And they can-

— No.

— … be mini tripe burritos!

She was different… and fascinating. Or maybe just…

— NO! No, definitely no! — Norma pushed her away — And get off me! This… this idea of ​​yours offends the cuisine of at least ten different cultures!

— So-sorry. Sometimes I forget I can’t hug everyone out there! — Fiorenza looked perplexed when she finally released her, silently returning to the other side of the counter.

— Yeah, I noticed.

— Come on…

However, the silence was short-lived. But if it had been up to Norma, it would have lasted forever - instead, Fiorenza insisted on trying to ease the tension that had set in. Chattering, chattering and chattering nonstop.

— W-well… I heard you don’t even know how to fry an egg.

— You heard it, eh?

— At least, that’s what Gisu Nerumen told my brother. — She shrugged — But you’ll help me anyway, right? Y-you can bake your frozen burritos if you like. No problem… I can do the rest.

Observed by a kind smile, Norma just walked over to the electric oven on the other side of the kitchen, doing as she was told, and then clumsily sitting on the living room couch, not at all willing to argue back. All she wanted was to remain there, still. Judging the pathetic lives her colleagues showed on Instagram, while trying to ignore the stink that came out of one pressure cooker borrowed by the nature force that was Fiorenza Aquato.

The scent of tripes, bones and various other things she had thrown into it, before chopping the vegetables she’d stolen from the fridge (not the canned ones she’d brought). Her scrawny arms moved like a dance, an acrobatic performance as beautiful as a mesmerizing Renaissance painting - Norma also heard from Gisu that the Aquatos were acrobats.

She surely would have blushed, if only she could ignore the fact that a brand-new marble countertop was being slashed just like a butcher from some random, hypothetical horror movie tore apart his victims. Heck yeah... everything was so weird, sexy and hilarious until her iPhone, forgotten minutes ago, rang.

“What ‘s up?”

— What do you want?

“It seems you woke up on the wrong side today, eh?”

— What do you want, Elisabeth?

“Oh, no… don’t come calling me that!”

— Then spit it out!

“Ah…” She could practically see her sister’s smirk “… I just wanted to know if mom and dad are back yet.”

— You know they are not! — She growled. — Fuck… it’s still 3 PM.

“And?”

— And they won't back until night.

“So I’m going over there with Morris.”

— Don’t you dare!

“Stop being an ass, Norma!”

— There’s a good reason why they trust me more than you, you know?

“And there’s also a reason why everyone else finds you unbearable!”

— Seriously, Lizzie… not today.

“Just because you hate Morris?”

— What? I don’t... It’s because... — Norma met Fiorenza’s smile one last time, before curling up into some pillows, covering her face with them and supposedly whispering — Fiorenza Aquato… she’s here, in the kitchen. And it seems she will still be there for a long time…

“Gisu’s boyfriend weird sister?”

— In the flesh. — Norma laughed evilly — She’s doing our Gastronomy Day assignment.

“I thought we bought frozen food for that.”

— Right? — and then she grimaced — But she insisted on cooking… argh! Even its stink makes me sick.

“No kidding! What the hell is she making?”

— Tripe… stew.

“Ew!”

— Oh, you have no idea how much this all sucks!

“But Frazie… is she as weird as people say? Or…”

— Oh, she’s weird for sure! You know, she arrived splattering her junk all over the kitchen and-

Then there was the clatter of a bowl being slammed against the kitchen counter, and the sound of an aggressive spoon scraping something metalic. Fiorenza… Frazie was storing her dear recipe. Again, staring at Norma’s winged face - but this time, for the first time that day, she didn’t smile with her gap-toothed smile. Quite the opposite, actually.

— I’m leaving. — Her eyes were wet.

— But your brother didn’t-

— I WILL GO BY BUS!

And carrying only her crammed grocery bag, identical to the magical ones featured in children’s cartoons, she slammed the door. After all… maybe Whispering Rock High number one student was just a big asshole.

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

For now, that's all folks! Any mistakes to be pointed out, or anything else you guys want to say is immensely appreciated!

See you next time!

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts #norma natividad #frazie aquato #fanfic #my fanfic writing #cooking #— But- #norma/frazieweek2022 #norma/frazie week #norma x frazie

[cricketrocker]

Tales of a 44th Grade Nothing from Utopia

Presuming that a 12th grader is 18, and also factoring that I’ve never spent a year of my life outside of some sort of education industry, institution, or school, and finally considering that I’m still—due to madness alone—still *IN* school—yes, here ends 2023 with some tales of a 44th-grade nothing.  Or not nothing, SOMETHING, surely, but you probably get the point, Shirley.  I don’t think anyone is named Shirley anymore, though.  If you catch my drift.

Let’s begin this drift with a description of UTOPIA.  This is not related to the “email signature” I have set on my iPhone.  Whenever I send an email on my iPhone, the automatic signature says, “Sent from Utopia.”  I have used this signature since 2008, when I first thought it would be cute, or funny, or ironic, or SOMETHING, surely, Shirley.  Since then, and after probably hundreds or thousands of iPhone emails, not one person has ever mentioned that it was clever, funny, or ironic.  Likely eyerolls, perhaps.  Silent judgement is probably the best kind of judgement.  But leave me to my wry self-perception of cleverness—it’s HILARIOUS to think that I’d send you or anyone an email message from UTOPIA, right?  As if.

If from anywhere, I’m probably sending emails out from either SMU’s Perkins Administration Building 320C, or I’m sending them from my recliner close to J.J. Pearce High School.  Emails from those two places (because they are written from my laptop) typically feature the full professional email signature, the one which will soon, hopefully depict my predilection for being called “Dr.” for at least a few weeks.  What’s left to achieve at that point?  After writing the longest freaking paper of my life?  Probably getting back into shape, or scheduling a colonoscopy, I guess.  Yep.  Since I’ve already joined AARP.  Just whiling away the days sending messages from UTOPIA.  Me and my ideal planet—where there is a perfect socio-politico-legal system—and where everything works harmoniously and all the inhabitants are warmly sarcastic, well-meaning, and respect introverts and individualized learning over group projects.  Sure.  Everyone loves their utopian self.  For the sake of this tirade, we’ll refer to this as the Babe: The Movie self, okay? 

Hopefully you’ll remember what UTOPIA looks like:

This movie was minted in 1995, the same year I was minted into the world after 4 undergraduate years at Baylor University.  That video takes you through an idyllic morning at the farm.  I may or may night have shed a tear or two as Babe rose to power as the Hogget farm’s lead sheepdog, but remember the lesson that vicious stereotypes such as the belief that pigs and sheep are stupid, are not true.  What a great film for all ages, what important lessons about friendship, perseverance, agrarian self-sufficiency, and the benefits of being a nice person!  Hope for the future!  That’ll do pig!  A postcard from the edge of UTOPIA!

By 1998, however, I’d spent a couple of years trying to find a high-paying job with my double-major BA in English and history and while I was then still committed to the world-changing value of re-reading and re-analyzing The Wasteland every year, I found myself in year two of my three-year high school teacher career.  In year two I taught 6 classes of English I to 9th graders.  My classes were maxed out at 30 students each, so there I was teaching 180 13 and 14 year olds about how life was an epic journey, thanks Homer & Odyssey.  Then teaching them that even if you’re blind and deaf you can still learn and grow up to be a great socialist leader—thanks Helen & Miracle Worker.  And then, by the time of the year that I’d lost all hope, teaching them Romeo & Juliet despite Shakespeare’s words, through Shakespeare’s words and incredible iambic—and holy moly—THEY reminded me that the themes of love and loss and tragedy and destiny totally transcend—well, everything.  I guess there was always, at least in my three years there, that moment where the teacher becomes the student and the students become the teachers, thus closing the electric loop.  That’ll do, piglets, says the farmer.  Or that’ll do farmer, says the piglets.  I hope they all turned out okay and didn’t get eaten for breakfast.  Who can say?  Because I was good at helping people—especially teachers—with technology, I was hired up to do that instead by the local university and 24 years later, I’m sending messages from UTOPIA.  Get it? 

Yesterday I asked my 18-year-old boy, son, young-man, good-guy, superhero, what books he remembers reading throughout high school.  I remember seeing no books—ever—throughout his high school journey so far.  Did he read The Odyssey?  Never heard of it.  Miracle Worker?  What did Helen Keller’s parents do to punish her?  Nope.  Romeo & Juliet? But here a flicker!  What light through teenage memory breaks?  It is the East, and I guess they somehow read it on their Chromebook.  Did they watch the Zeffirelli version in class?  (yeah—including the moment)  Did they then watch the Claire /Leonardo version and determine collectively that it—despite being all modern wonky—was not that great?  Nope.  He remembered that they died.  But only because I asked, “Do you remember that they died?”  He nodded.  I blame the system.  Or Chromebooks.  Or the Internet.

One of those 1998 single-guy apartment nights, however, I saw a movie preview for the SEQUEL to Babe: The Movie.  Behold, coming soon: Babe: Pig in the City:

Naturally I went to see it on opening night.  I’m not sure if you’ve seen it.  If you’ve seen it, you can forego the clips below.  If you haven’t seen it, I do not recommend it unless you’re really into the opposite of UTOPIA which is the slap in the face of DYSTOPIA.  Here are some samples:

The “IF ONLY…” sequence:

The “POOR MRS. HOGGETT” compilation:

Babe Saves a Mean Dog but for what:

Finally, the “Are you lonesome tonight?” blurb:

You can go ahead and watch the movie if you’re into that kind of thing, but chances are you haven’t watched even those YouTube links above.  Suffice to say, as the credits rolled in 1998, I’m pretty sure there was a tear or two, but whereas the first tears in 1995 had been spawned by an innate internalization of UTOPIA—the joke was on me, a movie-goer, that some film studio had produced not the UTOPIAN SEQUAL I’d expected—but rather the entire cancelation whatever I’d remembered and I’d hoped for—with the blunt force trauma of DYSTOPIA for the pig.  The same whimsy that spawned Babe’s utopia simply gave birth to dystopia, the other side of the same coin.  Stop rolling your eyes.

What I’m saying is that there’s a danger to whimsy.  While I’m drawn to that which is quaint, playful, and unexpected—to that which provides delight and stirs creativity; I’ve been blind to whimsy’s dangers and downsides, particularly when not balanced or grounded in responsibility or reality.  Some things make sense on the farm.  Some things fall apart in the city.  Loss of seriousness is all well and good except when it is not.  Impracticality is wonderful but is also costly.  Escapism—good lord—is my favorite, in practice or imagined—though again, at what cost or consequence?  Isolation—perhaps introversion and whimsy go hand in hand—if a whimsical nature is not shared or understood by others—how isolated do we become even amid others?  Unpredictability and spontaneity—wonderful!  But unreliable, inconsistent, good lord.  I did not begin here to reflect upon the danger of whimsy—and while I critique the dangers of that drug—it’s not like I’m going to give it up; I am who I am.  A 44th grader.

Spoiler alert here—Babe saves the farm in Pig in the City.  The farmer, though probably due to brain damage, declares “That’ll Do, Pig” all over again, and UTOPIA is restored, sadder and wiser, or maybe that’s the point, UTOPIA is restored for everyone except Babe—who’s had to function in the City—and somehow try to come home again.  Maybe it’s more about wondering if anyone reads Thomas Wolfe anymore.  “You Can’t Go Home Again”?  Probably not.  I guess we’re changed by our experiences and gain new perspectives.  We can’t go back to the farm, it’s impossible to return to the simplicity or the innocence of the past before we read Miracle Worker or Romeo & Juliet.  Or Babe: Utopia or the sequel Babe: Dystopia.  Thomas Wolfe reminded us that we cannot go home again, that the feeling of displacement and nostalgia we feel when we try is normal, but that we’re just continuing our educations one grade at a time, grappling with the farm, the city, the idea of home, and the relentless progression of time.  WTF.  Rearrange the furniture.

#Youtube

[antihero6912]

2022 Resolution Look Back

Lookback twenty twenty two

Here’s what I wished for last year around this time:

- run that Marathon! Let’s get the practice going and run it with ease in September

--> DID. IT. (!), ran it easier than I thought I would. Hated it during the run but was soo happy to cross that finish line.

- get promoted at work by July

--> Did not LOL, but got promoted for January and my new contract was worth waiting for

- get a raise (!) or at least ask for one

--> no raise but two double bonuses

- see Courtney in Washington

--> I DID!!!! :-) AND SO FREAKING HAPPY 

- go on vacation with my whole family to see my brother again

--> did go with just my momma and I and even stayed longer just by myself.

- stop taking birth control by like the end of the year

--> did not but definitely going to in the next year

- start seriously planing a pregnancy

--> lol. no. and not any time soon.

- go on at least 4 flights

--> DID! Made it on 11 actually

- have a week long vacation not doing anything in an all-incluvise resort with H

--> Did not, but did take the Tesla out to Denmark just H and I and had a super relaxing full week just the two of us.

- get. that. tesla

--> DIIIIIIIIIDDD and love IT!

- GET FREAKING ENGAGED - yes I am wishing for it again this year because what the freaking hell is he waiting for and I swear I am going to lose my shit if it does not happen in 22 :-)

--> This was me when I originally typed this on December 22nd: lol. no.

--> This is me know after Christmas: HELL YEAH!!! I got proposed to in the MOST romantic way possible and it was so worth waiting for. I loved every single second of it. Gonna do a seperate post on this so I never forget it but I cannot wait to get married to my man *crieshappytears*

- buy a new iPhone

--> had my firm pay for it and got a new iPad as well

- finish our garden in the front of the house in the first quarter because holy moly

--> almost done. but holy moly haha

- start growing gras in the backyard and plant some trees

--> DID! :) and looooooooove the big ass backyard

- start being happy with how my body looks

--> still working on it

- try new things and explore more

--> Definitely did try a lot of new things

Honestly, all I want in 2022 is for my family to stay healthy, especially my mom. I hope she manages to not drink alcohol for the entire year and that my dad watches over her and us to stay healthy and get along as good as we do. I hope we continue to be healthy and happy, I hope we all get to keep our jobs and that there will be a light at the end of this tunnel of a pandemic. I hope my relationship with H is loving and honest and that we keep growing as a couple. I hope 2022 is a year we love for so many reasons :-)

--> My momma did start the year super good with no alcohol but unfortunately something must’ve happened and she started back at it..still a lot less than what it used to be but honestly more than she should :( 

Did keep my job and got a lot more money out of it and travelled while being paid. Pandemic is almost over and H and I are reallll happy together in our little home :) 

[detectiveconnor]

.... freedom

#at least for a couple of weeks. holy moly #i am going to do some painting. and buy myself dinner. and catch up on chores #full time work + full time study -2/10 wouldnt recommend #and then I am going to sit down and rattle connor around a bit to see what comes out. like a christmas present #or poorly evacuated ashes

[possiamo-andare]

Midsummer pt. 2: JJ Maybank

JJ x Reader

MASTERLIST

word count: over 6.8k (I went a little overboard lol)

a/n: first off, I'd like to say holy moly you guys are amazing I never thought I'd get over 600 notes on anything let alone something I wrote. Your kind words have bee so motivating so I definitely had to write a part 2 for everyone. Second, I just want to thank everyone who has messaged, reblogged, liked anything I've written. It's so fulfilling to know someone enjoys my stuff. You guys are he best <3

~

The last time JJ was interested in one girl at a time, was back when his only example of what a woman was, was in an inappropriate magazine. It's not like he never tried to like one girl at a time, but when he tried, something better always came along to distract him. JJ was curious by nature to put it lightly. The saying 'never judge a book by it's cover' was not true when it came to JJ. Usually, whatever you judged about him was right. He had been around obx with many Pogue ladies and flaunted it. He was proud being a bachelor that got around and rarely anyone held that against him.

But now, he was done for. By a Kook no less. A stupid Kook that JJ had met once a long time ago.

It was a stupid crush. Nothing he couldn't handle. His number of crushes spanned a long and thorough list. To say he was a pro at getting his crushes interested in him was an understatement. Then he saw you with Rafe and everything he felt for you disappeared. Disappeared might not be a good word. More like, he suppressed every feeling he felt for you the day he met you at the station until he could feel nothing at all. It was truly a tragic day for JJ when he found out you were dating Rafe. Then, JJ did what he did the best; he found another girl to distract himself with.

Just when he thought he was getting over the tragic situation, you had shown up at the Midsummer party. He hadn't thought about you, or your gorgeous smile or your pretty hair for a few weeks now and just as he thought he was turning a corner, you stood in front of him and demanded two sodas. You had not recognized him. He could tell. You knew who he was, of course, after you rudely told him what you thought of him, but you didn't remember your run in at the station months ago. He knew that if you were ever gonna remember him this time, he had to pull out all the stops. That meant he had to be extra charming and extra funny.

JJ wanted to slap himself. He couldn't believe he had put himself in this situation. He wished that you meant nothing. Every other Kook girl meant nothing to him (except Kie of course, but that's different), so why were you different?

He couldn't think too much about it. If he did, he would have to self analyze and that's something he rarely did. So, he just acted like an asshole to you. Being difficult with girls always worked. JJ knew the less you cared about their existence, the more they chased. And that might be true for the other girls JJ liked but definitely not you. He felt like he was always losing a battle whenever he spoke to you. You were super defensive the entire time he tried to talk to you. He couldn't get a word in edgewise and it didn't help that your image of him was already tainted.

So, he tried another approach. He tried to be himself. This would be anyone's first choice but we are talking about JJ. He's had to put up so many barriers so people don't see the real him, it was hard to keep track of which one to use. There was the lady's man JJ, the Pogue JJ, the obedient son, the annoying friend, and even the protector. JJ was just never truly himself. Of course his friends knew this and they accepted any form of JJ, but he knew you wouldn't. So, he just was himself.

And the next thing he knows, you're kissing him. Technically, he leaned in first, but you definitely closed the gap between you two which had to count for something.

Maybe it was because he liked you so much, or maybe it was because of the gin he downed before dancing with you, but your kisses made him feel like he was in fifth grade. Every kiss felt like the first one. He felt things he'd never felt before; by a Kook nonetheless.

And then, too soon, the moment was interrupted by a busboy. Gerald and his ability to cock block. But he had agreed to meet with you again, as if you were thirteen meeting at a tree house, and he couldn't believe it. You wanted to see him again. You knew who he was, you had learned things about him, and still wanted to see him. Never, and JJ means never, had a girl seen this much of him and still wanted to stay.

That night, JJ couldn't sleep. Even though JB had told him where the gold was and how they were gonna get it, he still would've been able to sleep if it were not for his mind racing with you. He even let his dad yell at him that night. He was in too much of a good mood.

That is, until JB was pushed off a ledge and was rushed to the hospital. Sarah was with him when it happened and JJ had been in the car, waiting for his friend. JB was JJ's family, along with the rest of his friends. JB had let him sleep over countless times when JJ's dad had been especially violent. He had helped JJ in every situation possible and JJ knew he could never repay him. So, to see JB asleep in the hospital with a cast, made his blood boil. And when he found out it was Topper's fault, he wanted to kill Topper himself. The only thing that held him back from doing so was staying in the hospital and waiting for JB to be alright. If JB had woken up any time before, maybe JJ would've had time to beat Topper's ass.

Kie, Pope, and JJ all waited together in the waiting room until there was an update on JB. They knew it wasn't as serious but they were determined to stay until their friend woke up. If it meant staying the whole day, then that's what they'd have to do. And so they did. They stayed well into the afternoon, with Sarah. She was in and out of the hospital room he was in and giving Kie, Pope, and JJ updates every time she did. They even got to talking and, even though Kie and Sarah barely spoke, Sarah was nice to them. She was one of the only Kooks that was nice to them.

The topic of Kooks made another memory resurface. JJ promised you he'd meet you at Sarah's house to "grab his keys" but, when JJ had checked the time, he was already late. He cursed at himself. He had unintentionally stood you up. You were for sure not gonna want to speak to him ever again and he had basically ruined any chance he had with you. He didn't want to tell his friends but they had noticed that once JJ was aware of the time, he had gotten more restless.

Kie had tried to ask him what was wrong but JJ was too upset to answer.

He felt like such an idiot.

Until he saw you enter the waiting room. He almost gasped but held it in, not to draw too much attention to himself. You barely looked at him as you walked in.

You wore black ripped jean shorts and a yellow tank top. You had your hair brushed into a loose braid and you had makeup on. You had done all of this because you were supposed to meet JJ but he had bailed on you. You had waited at Sarah's house for over an hour but, 20 minutes after he would've arrived, you knew he wasn't coming. You felt like an idiot. You had fallen for the oldest and dumbest trick in the book. Then, you got news of what happened to John B. and you realized that's probably why JJ got held up. You were still upset, but at least JJ had a good reason.

When you saw him sitting down in the waiting room, your stomach felt like it was in your throat. Seeing him in daylight was very different to seeing JJ in the dark. At least in the dark, you didn't see the extent of his scars. Now that you did, you felt like crying for him. You can't believe someone did that to him. In the dark, you didn't have to see him completely and you could get away with not looking in his eyes, since that always made you nervous. But now, you could see JJ completely and he was even more gorgeous in the light.

As you went to comfort Sarah, you pretended he wasn't there. You could tell, even with your back turned to him as you hugged Sarah, he was watching you. You felt his eyes burn into your back. But you were here for Sarah, that's it.

"Thanks for being here." Sarah said to you, letting out of your for a moment and looking to the hallway. "I should go and see how he's doing."

You nodded. "Yes, of course. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Sarah smiled. "You being here is enough." And with that, she was walking back to John B.'s room.

You said hello to Kiara first. You had known her before today and you had always been polite to each other, even though Sarah and her didn't get along. When they did, all three of you hung out and had so much fun. You missed having her as a friend.

"Hey," you said, opening your arms for a hug. Kiara got up from her place in the chair and hugged you for a moment. Things were still a little awkward. "How are you?"

Kiara shrugged. "We just want to make sure John B. is okay."

I nodded. "I'll stay and maybe we can catch up?"

You knew she had a little resentment towards you and you didn't blame her. Sarah believed wholeheartedly that Kiara was the one that called the police on a party she had thrown a while ago and that's one of the reasons they're not friends anymore. Once Sarah let it slip that Kiara called the cops, Kiara was basically blacklisted whenever there was a party. Now, you were hoping to put that all behind you if it meant being Kiara's friend.

Kiara smiled but you could tell she was trying to suppress it. "I'd like that."

You then looked to a boy you knew was named Pope. You knew Pope's dad because he had once brought some groceries to your house at the last minute. It had been one of your mom's charity events and she had run out of a couple items. It was a Saturday night and Mr. Heyward was probably with his family but he got the items for her and delivered them to your house very quickly. Pope had been in a club you used to be in before you quit because Rafe said it took up too much of your time (you wanted to roll your eyes as you remembered all the shit you did to make him happy). Pope has always been nice to you when you were still in that club and when you voiced an idea, he always tried to back you up. You didn't know him that well but you knew him enough to give him a hug. He gladly accepted it, mumbling a hello as you hugged him.

"How are you? I haven't seen you in awhile." You stated, letting go of Pope and looking at him.

He struggled to meet your gaze, a bit embarrassed. You didn't know why but you figured that was just Pope's personality. "Not too bad. I'm president now."

You smiled. "That's so good to hear."

You couldn't believe he remembered that. Although he probably did remember it because the club was filled with Kooks and whenever they tried to pick on Pope, you always called them out. Even though you were grateful for his support, he was just as grateful for yours.

Pope nodded at you, smiling again. You could tell Kiara and Pope felt awkward. Mostly because you were one of the only Kooks that treated them nicely. Which was sad because you didn't understand why Kooks and Pogues didn't get along. Other than the fact that most of the Kooks (you're thinking of Topper and Rafe when you say most) are greedy, selfish assholes. You wanted them to like you really badly. One of the reasons was because they were Sarah and John B.'s friends. The other reason was because of the boy beside Pope, who was standing as well, and watching you closely.

JJ hadn't said one word to you since you entered the waiting room and you knew why. He wasn't sure if you guys should act like you know each other or not. To be honest, you weren't sure either. He had blown you off, for good reason, but then again, he could've gotten a message to you that he was in the hospital. You didn't have to find out from Ward, who drove you to the hospital. You had been waiting outside for an hour once Ward had pulled into the driveway. You asked him where Sarah was and he explained what had happened to John B. and offered you a ride. He had to pick up clean clothes for John B. since he was waking up soon.

You instantly knew why JJ never showed up but he could've easily asked Sarah to call you to let you know why he never arrived. The only explanation for not asking Sarah was because he didn't want anyone to know about what happened. This annoyed you.

When you had gone to bed the night before, you fell asleep to thoughts of JJ and what it would be like to be his girlfriend. Now, you had a rude awakening. He didn't want anyone to know that you had kissed. He was embarrassed to like a Kook.

So, being the salty teen you were, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were gonna pretend as if you had no idea who he was.

You stuck out your hand, waiting for him to shake it. He looked down at it, perplexed, and slowly extended his hand to shake yours. Once your hands had shaken, you spoke, "Nice to meet you. What's your name?"

JJ's brows furrowed but he answered you. "JJ."

He knew for sure that you were pissed. Before, he had only a small inclination that you were pissed but he now knew for 100% certainty, you were upset. He knew he should've at least tried to call you. He knew Sarah had your number and he knew it would be easy to ask Sarah for your number to call you but he got scared. He didn't know if you wanted anyone to know you guys were macking and he didn't want to embarrass you. He thought it wouldn't be the proudest thing for people to know you kissed JJ Maybank. For a Kook, you could get made fun of for that. So, he played it safe and didn't do anything. But now, he suffered the consequences. You were pissed. If he could only get you alone to explain.

"Cool." You said, smiling at him the way you would a stranger.

JJ looked to Pope and Kie, both of them looking back and forth from between the two of you. You could tell they thought this exchange was funny. You said nothing to JJ after that and just sat down in the chair across from Kiara. The both of you started a conversation as JJ and Pope stayed silent. You did talk about school but you mostly spoke about your summer so far. She had said it had been pretty uninteresting while you said the same. Although it was not over yet, you figured now it would be just like all the summer's before. Granted, you had thought it might be different now that you had met JJ but currently he was an idiot and you rather not spend a summer with someone who was embarrassed to be with you (even though that wasn't the case).

In the middle of your conversation with Kiara about the new documentary she was watching, JJ had gotten up from his place in the chair and mumbled that he had to go to the bathroom. You paid no attention to what he said but Pope and Kiara both nodded, telling him they could care less. You had continued your conversation with her for a minute more before your mind trailed to what JJ was doing. Obviously there was the option that he actually had to go to the bathroom, but then why would he announce it like that? You wondered whether or not he actually had to go to the bathroom or maybe it was a way of telling you he had to speak to you.

You decided the only way to figure out what the answer was, was to wait outside the men's bathroom to see if JJ actually wanted to talk to you or not. Granted, this was about the creepiest thing you could ever do but it was JJ and you were sure he had no reservations about you waiting outside the bathroom for him. In a weird way, it kinda comforted you to know anything weird you had done, JJ had probably done something weirder and would never judge you.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee," you announced to Kiara, who had finished speaking and was waiting for your response. "Want some?"

Kiara shook her head. "Nah, already had some."

You looked to Pope and raised your brows. He shook her head. "No, I already had some too."

You nodded and got up from your seat. "Well, I'm getting some. I'll be back in a second."

And with that, you were out of the waiting room and making your way to the men's bathroom. There was a sign that pointed you in the direction of the bathroom so you figured that it wasn't that far away. You passed a couple of hospital rooms and were not surprised to see most of the doors closed. They probably didn't want a nosy teenager peeking in anyways.

You always hated hospitals. You had to get a cast once when you broke your arm when you were younger and ever since, you hated the smell of hospitals. It smelled too clean. You also didn't like the idea that a floor beneath you, a woman was giving birth and a floor above you, someone could be dying.

As you passed the janitors closet, you were too deep in your thoughts to realize that the closet door was a little open. And when you passed it, a hand came out of the door and grabbed onto you. You didn't even have time to scream. The hand pulled you into the closet and closed the door behind you before you even had time to react. The closet was dimly lit and filled with cleaning supplies such as brooms and chemicals. The smell inside wasn't as bad as the smell outside though. You were about to fight back when you saw the person who had grabbed you.

It was JJ. He was smirking at you as he watched you catch your breath.

"What the hell?" You whisper - yell, scared that someone you know this time could hear you.

"We should really stop meeting like this." He said, the stupid smirk you liked so much still on his lips.

You had to remind yourself you were upset with him. "We didn't meet like this. You kidnapped me."

JJ rolled his eyes, the same stupid smirk on his lips. You had to admit, he looked so hot right now. He had a black shirt on with gray swim trunks. His hair was a fluffy mess and his scars were still apparent. He looked like a mess but you still wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream. You asked yourself, what was wrong with you?

"You can leave any time you want." JJ countered, pointing towards the closed door.

You looked to the door, then back at him. "Tell me what you want and then I will."

JJ nods, finally feeling like he might have a good chance in explaining his stupid actions. "I know I didn't call you and I'm sorry. I didn't know if you wanted everyone to know about us or not."

You felt a smile on your lips. You wished he could be more mean. You liked JJ too much. Still defending yourself, you acted difficult. "You're right. We shouldn't tell anyone until we figure this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "out."

JJ nodded, this time, his smirk turning into a full smile. "So there is something?"

You roll your eyes, still acting a little difficult. "I never said that."

JJ steps forward, closer to you, and looks down at your lips. "I think that's exactly what you said."

You shook your head. "Stop." You didn't mean it. JJ smirks, biting his lip. You wanted to scream again. What the hell was this boy doing to you? In seconds, you could go from completely angry at him, to wanting to kiss him. No one ever made you feel like this. Yet again, you were so surprised to find yourself liking JJ Maybank. A boy that 72 hours ago, you didn't even care about.

"Stop what -?" JJ was about to ask you something and be annoying but you weren't in the mood.

In seconds, your arms were wrapped around his neck and you were pulling him closer to you. The second your lips touched, it was as if no time passed at all. You were no longer worried about fighting with JJ and pretending you were mad. You got lost when you kissed him. And it still felt so wonderful, even after all that's happened. When you kissed JJ, it was as if there was no one else. It was just you and him. He made kissing, even in a janitor's closet, the best thing to ever happen to you.

JJ's arms snake around your waist as he pulls you closer. Now, you're chest to chest. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest and you're sure he can feel yours too. It comforts you to know he reacts the same way to you kissing him.

You break away for one second, trying to catch your breath. JJ doesn't give you a chance to breathe though because the second you break away, his lips are on your cheek, kissing his way down to your neck. Your knees go weak. This gives JJ the opportunity to push you up against the wall. There's a bunch of equipment in here but you guys make it work. His hands rest on the sides of your waist as his lips travel to your collarbone. You tilt your head back and close your eyes again. And you thought kissing JJ on the lips was the best thing ever.

Although you loved this, you wanted to feel his lips on yours again and desperately cupped his face and moved it away from your neck and back onto your lips. Right before your lips touched his again, you kissed his jaw once. You could tell this had a huge effect on JJ because his hands instinctively came up to cup your jaw. Once your lips touched, your hands moved to his chest again and they rested there as you continued to make out.

He still tasted good which surprised you the most. You rarely had a good story of a Pogue kissing someone and them saying they tasted like mint so this only made you kiss him deeper.

Finally, you both had to break away. You both were running out of air. You were breathing too heavily but didn't notice until JJ pulled away first. As you both caught your breath, you looked at eachother. You were both smiling so wide, your cheeks were starting to hurt. This reminded you of last night, when you both were smiling like madmen after your first kiss. And still, after so many other kisses, it still felt like the first time.

"Is it always like that?" JJ asked, quieting chuckling. He was wiping the gloss he had on his lips, something you had on your lips before they were wiped off.

You shook your head. "Never."

JJ smirked. "I'd say I'm the best kisser you've had."

You rolled your eyes. It was the truth but you would never admit it. "I haven't kissed many people."

JJ raised his brows, creases forming on his forehead. "How many people have you kissed?"

You bit your bottom lip. They were still tingling from JJ's kisses. "None of your business."

JJ rolled his eyes. "Don't you wanna know how many I have kissed?"

You did. But you couldn't let him know that. "No. I have my own guesses."

JJ smiled. "Yeah? What's your guess?"

You shrugged. "Like one hundred thousand or something."

JJ laughed aloud. You didn't care if anyone heard this time, you loved hearing him laugh. "Nice try. It's actually one million."

You knew he was joking just by the tone of his voice. "Ah, makes sense."

JJ raised his brows again. "So, your saying I'm a good kisser?"

You rolled your eyes. "I just meant you have a lot of practice. Doesn't mean you're good."

JJ nodded, a sly smirk on his lips. "If I'm so bad, why do you want to kiss me?"

You smiled, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "Someone's gotta teach ya."

You leaned forward and kissed him once again. He instantly kissed you back, his hands wrapping around your waist. The kiss only lasted five seconds but you savoured it. JJ was a good kisser, even though you didn't want to admit it. He was passionate and strong, something you had never experienced with anyone you kissed.

Once you pulled away from him, he spoke again. "Can I come by your house at, like, seven?"

You squint your eyes at him. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

JJ shrugged. "We can't go out together. I just kissed you in a janitor's closet. You deserve some food at least."

I smiled. "Okay. I'll wait for you at my house at seven. Do you know where I live?"

JJ nodded. "I mowed your lawn in May."

You pushed your brows together. "Seriously?" How the hell did you not remember this?

JJ nodded. "I don't expect you to remember. You were hanging out with Sarah and it was only for one weekend."

You shrugged, frowning at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sure I would've said hi."

Although you said this, JJ and you both knew that this was not true. You barely acknowledged his existence until last night so it wasn't a surprise to either of you that you forgot he mowed your lawn.

"It's okay. I got an amazing view of your bedroom window from where I was." JJ joked, snickering softly.

You gasped, slapping him on the chest. "Perv!"

JJ continued to laugh, clutching his chest. "Sorry!"

You shook your head laughing along with him. Once your laughter died down, you spoke, "I'm gotta go. Kiara and Pope are probably wondering where I am. See you soon."

JJ nodded. "See ya."

You both looked at each other and smiled one more time, before you opened the closet door and ran back to the waiting room. For the second time since you met JJ, you made sure not to say goodbye. It wasn't goodbye yet.

~

John B. had woken up soon after you entered the waiting room. Kiara had asked you where your coffee was and you made up an excuse , saying you drank it on your way here. You hoped it didn't look too suspicious as JJ returned only moments later, saying there was a line to get onto the bathroom. You wanted to slap him for coming up with such a lame excuse but yours wasn't any better.

Once John B. was woken up, Kiara, Pope, and JJ visited him while you waited outside for them to finish. Although you knew John B. was a nice guy, you were still nervous to meet him. After they exited his room, it was your turn.

Your first encounter with John B. was excellent. Even though he was still groggy, he was polite and super enthusiastic about meeting you. Apparently Sarah had said such nice things. And the way John B. and Sarah looked at each other, you knew that they were in love. You were so happy for her. You told John B. that if he needed anything, you were there for him but apparently that wasn't necessary. Ward had decided to foster John B. which meant he was going to start to live with Ward, Sarah and their family. You had known about John B.'s predicament with the foster care system so you were relieved to hear this.

Once John B. was ready to be discharged, Ward got John B. and Sarah into the car before asking if you needed a ride. Ward was like your uncle so you, of course, said yes.

When we dropped you off at your house, your parents still weren't home. You had an older sibling who was probably out with their friends so you had the house to yourself. This meant you had hours to spend stressing about when JJ would come. You planned your outfit and makeup before anyone got home because you were really nervous. You wondered what food he would bring, what he would want to do in your room, and just about everything down to the last detail. It was friday night, so your parents wouldn't be home until midnight. Friday nights were their date nights.

Your older sibling would probably be in their room all night so at least you didn't have to worry about them. All you had to worry about was yourself.

You rearrange your room about five times. At first, the stuff on your cabinet was too messy, then it seemed too clean. You didn't want JJ to think you had gone through all this trouble to clean for him. Then you messed it up too much. You made your head, then messed it up to look like you had been sitting in it all day. You threw all of your stuffed animals from when you were a child in your closet. You would die of embarrassment if JJ saw any of your stuffed animals. The teasing would never end.

You busied yourself with TV and reading until 6pm rolled by. You decided one hour gave you enough time to get ready. You took a quick shower and did some simple makeup. You didn't want to put too much effort in. You over thought everything. You changed your top from the tank top to a long sleeve grey shirt but you kept your black ripped jean shorts. The sun was setting and it was getting chilly. You dried your hair and kept it down and you sprayed yourself with ungodly amounts of perfume. You were stressing too much.

Finally 7pm rolled around. And JJ was five minutes late. A small voice in your head told you that he had bailed on you for real this time but you chose not to listen to it. He would be here.

Just when you were about to believe that small voice, you heard a knocking on your bedroom window. Confused, you ignored it but when the second knock came from your window, you decided to check it out. What you saw made you laugh. JJ was climbing up your wall, a backpack around his shoulders. You were gripping the bones growing from your house to pull himself closer to your window. When he looked up to see you, he smirked.

You opened your window and reached out your hand. He was close enough for you to take it and you pulled him up. You could only get him halfway through the window. Your arm was aching and you had to let him go. It didn't matter because after you let go, he pushed his way through.

Finally, when he got all the way through, you spoke, "Are you alright?"

JJ shrugged. "Only a little internal bleeding."

You rolled your eyes and quickly slapped his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking? Don't you know how to use the front door?"

JJ laughed. "I thought climbing through your window would make me look cooler."

You shook your head. "It made you look dumber."

JJ dropped his backpack on the floor. "You can never say I didn't almost die for you."

You rolled your eyes. "Now I'm wishing I didn't pull you up."

"Ah," JJ chuckled, bending over and unzipping his backpack. "then you wouldn't have this." He then pulled out a brown bag, waving it in your face.

You quickly grabbed it from him. "What is it?" You answered your own question by opening the brown bag and pulling out Chinese food. Inside were containers of noodles, chicken balls, and rice. Your mouth watered. You felt like you hadn't eaten all day.

JJ chuckled. "Someone's hungry."

You placed the food on your desk, moving your papers and laptop to the side. "That's the only reason I wanted you to come."

You moved across your room to get a second chair for JJ and once you gave it to him, you both sat down to eat.

JJ pulled out the plastic forks and knives and gave one set to you. You took it eagerly and opened up the first container with noodles. You both started to eat.

JJ scoffed at your response. "You only wanted me here so I could bring you food?"

You nodded, your mouth filled with noodles already. Once you swallowed, you spoke. "Of course."

JJ shrugged. "Honestly, I only came here to get laid. I knew Chinese food was the way to your heart."

You scoffed, setting down your fork to slap JJ on the shoulder again.You knew he was joking so you played along. "Asshole. Now you're definitely not getting laid."

JJ rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He shoved another fork of noodles in his mouth and you did the same. You both talked throughout the meal. Whenever your mouths were empty, you responded to each other and spoke. You spoke about so many things. You talked about school, your families and eventually got to the subject of John B. and how he was holding up in Sarah's home. JJ joked about how jealous he was but you knew he was serious. You told him not to worry and one day maybe he'd have a big house like Ward's. He said nothing for a while after that and you knew why. He didn't believe he'd ever get out of the situation he was in now.

You wanted to make him feel better but you didn't know how. So, you kissed him. It was slow and passionate and it made you feel light as a feather. You couldn't believe kissing someone could feel this good.

Once you broke away from each other, JJ spoke first. "I'm guessing one."

You knew this was a way to divert from what you were talking about before but you were still confused. "What?"

"I'm guessing you've only kissed one person." JJ clarified, placing his fork down and reaching up to brush some hair out of your face.

The two of you were still sitting beside each other at your desk but your eyes instinctively made a glance at your bed. Once you looked back at JJ, you answered him. "You're wrong. It's actually two."

JJ snickered. "That's adorable."

You pinched his arm and you smiled when he yelped out in pain. "Ass."

"This is where you ask me." JJ pointed out, his hand resting on your knee.

You rolled your eyes. "I seriously have no idea."

JJ shrugged his shoulders. "It's ten."

You furrowed your brows. That seemed so low. "Ten?" JJ could tell you were confused.

"I don't really kiss many people. Makes me feel weird." JJ shrugged again, picking up his fork and taking the last bite of a chicken ball.

"Weird?" You questioned.

"Yeah," JJ nodded before swallowing and continuing. "I have to really like someone to kiss them."

You blushed, looking away from him. That meant he really liked you because all you had been doing was kissing. Your throat felt so dry. JJ really was making you nervous.

"You really like me?" You asked, looking back at him and leaning forward.

JJ smirked, leaning forward to kiss you quickly. "Yes."

"What was your first kiss like?" You asked, grabbing his hand.

He looked at where your hands touched, then looked back at you. "I was like twelve. It was Kie's cousin visiting from Canada or something. She was my age. I was shitting my pants." JJ smiles as he retells the story. You leaned forward, very interested. "I never thought about girls before that and then we were just goofing around and she asked me if I kissed anyone. I said no and then she just kissed me."

"Aw," You cooed, smiling softly. "That's adorable."

JJ shrugged, smiling. "Not really. The poor girl never talked to me again. Said I had bad breath."

You giggled. "I know what she means."

JJ gasped. "Really?"

Before you had time to react, JJ stood up and leaned on top of you, his hands instantly going to your sides to tickle you. Your legs shut up and you dashed across your room but he soon caught up to you and grabbed a hold of your sides. You screamed in terror and demanded he let you go. He couldn't completely understand you though because you were laughing so hard. You kicked his shin and made a run across your bed but before you could get to your door, he tackled you, pushing you onto your bed.

"JJ!" You laughed, JJ continuing to tickle your side. You kicked and screamed but it was no use, you were stronger.

"Say I'm the best kisser!" He only laughed, loving that you were so ticklish.

"You're the best!" You screamed, laughed hysterically. "Stop!"

Finally he stopped and lay on his back. He was laughing so hard and you were out of breath from the screaming. Once you caught your breath, you turned onto your stomach and let a hand rest on his chest.

"That wasn't funny." You frowned, a smile showing through.

JJ shrugged. "Got you to admit the truth though."

You leaned closer to his face. "Whatever."

JJ instantly closed the gap, kissing your lips. This time, your legs were intertwined as you kissed. JJ's hands cupped your face as you kissed and your hands made their way to his waist. You just lay there, kissing each other. This was so easy. Being with JJ was so easy. You couldn't believe that this is what you were missing. This time, although he tasted like mint, he smelled divine. You didn't know what it was until you parted. Once you did, you realized it was sea salt. Ye smelled like the ocean. Your mom was always telling you that you smelled like the ocean and how bad it was but now, you had found someone who was the same.

This made you want to kiss him again. You never got a chance to because JJ spoke, "what was your first kiss like?"

You smiled, touching your lips. JJ watched you for a moment, smiling at you. Your lips felt as if they were on fire.

"I was like ten and some boy at my summer camp dared me to kiss him. Worst three seconds of my life. Yours was so cute."

JJ smirked, raising his brows. "He dared you to? He must've really liked you."

You shrugged. "I can never turn down a dare."

JJ smirked. "Really?"

You nodded, a mischievous grin on your lips. "Yeah."

"Well then," JJ smirked. "I dare you to kiss me again."

You rolled your eyes. "I would've done it anyways."

And with that, you kissed him again. You don't know how long that kiss lasted because right after that one, JJ kissed you again and again. He kissed you like you guys had all the time in the world. And you felt like you did.

You knew you had all the time in the world to discover this new feeling with JJ.

~

taglist: @dolanfivsosxox @obxrush @bellakellyrose03 @belledutchess @sexualparkour @lueurglow @itsriasblog @maries110911 @ebonyyyy-e @teamnick @tangledinsparkles

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj obx #jj outer banks #john b obx #john b outer banks #john b routledge #kiara carrera #kiara outer banks #obx #jj x reader #jj x y/n #pope obx #pope heyward #pope outer banks #sarah outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx netflix #obx rp #obx x reader #kie obx

[morwensteelsheen]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it. 

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me. 

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever). 

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown. 

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel. 

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again. 

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc. 

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn: 

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc). 

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.  

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely. 

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol 

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways. 

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on. 

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare. 

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life. 

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot! 

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can. 

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien. 

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc 

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him. 

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here). 

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds: 

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic. 

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident. 

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing. 

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic. 

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important. 

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture. 

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great. 

Their first impressions of one another are very important. 

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant. 

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.” 

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant. 

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her. 

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever. 

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does! 

But then there’s this line: 

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big. 

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf. 

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there. 

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense? 

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.  

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family 

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc. 

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

#oh my god this is ridiculously long i am SO sorry #asks #faramir #Éowyn

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Omg honey I thought about it.Chuuya teaching his girlfriend self-defense so she could protect herself when he isn’t around.Like he always scared when she is going out so he taught her 🥺❣️

OH MAN

THIS GON BE A BLAST CAUSE I CAN SEE IT IN MY HEAD

THANK YOU FOR ANOTHER FANTASTIC REQUEST, LOVELY ❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Listening to Enya - Caribbean Blue because holy moly is it calming)

Sure, you didn’t have an ability, and he couldn’t really help the fact that you didn’t have one, but he also wouldn’t let you just go out without any combat skills. You were a precious jewel, and if he couldn’t always be around to protect you, the least he could do is teach you to protect yourself so he knew that you were safe.

It’s not that you were weak, it’s just that you weren’t as strong as he’d like you to be. He knew what kind of people lurked the streets of Yokohama, he worried constantly that they’d hurt you just for being with him. The Port Mafia didn’t have many fans, and most of them would rather strike against closely related friends, family, and lovers than to go full force at the members of the Port.

The First Week of Training

He thought this would be easier, but seeing you stand in front of him with that little smile on your face looking as cute as ever, how was he supposed to even pretend to swing at you. He could have someone else from the mafia train you, but he’d be on edge the entire time, and probably end up kicking someone’s ass for touching you, even if he asked them to.

“Okay, I want you to hit me.” He said, and you bit your lip as you walked closer to him and lightly smacked his arm.

“Like that?” You asked, your smile growing wider. The smack could have been an ultra downy feather pillow being brushed against his arm, that’s how weak it was. He couldn’t tell you that though, you looked so proud of the hit that he just smiled and nodded.

“Exactly!” He cheered, but inwardly he was dying. This would be a lot harder than he thought.

“You know, it’s hard for me to actually want to hit you when you’re not fighting back.” You said, throwing weak punches at him.

“You give me no reason to fight back. You need to hit harder.” You pouted at his words and he sighed. He’d have to get you riled up, as much as he hated doing so. “You’re weak.” He mumbled, turning away. He heard your tiny growl from behind him and braced himself for the hit.

You punched his arm, harder this time, and he knew that the hit would most likely bruise. He turned to face you, and couldn’t help but laugh at the little pout that formed on your lips.

“Better, that one actually hurt a little bit.” He said and your sad/angry face turned to worry.

“I’m sorry Chu.” You quickly said and he laughed louder, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead.

“Don’t apologize, baby. I want it to hurt, it means you’re getting stronger..” He said in between the kisses. He heard your sigh of relief and you loosened up in his hold. It would take a lot of work, but it would be worth it in the end.

Second Week of Training

You were starting to get the hang of basic hits, where critical spots are. You had sent him into a fit of laughter one of the days he was training you when you brought up an a technique that should have been obvious.

“Is it a cheap shot to kick someone between the legs?” You asked and he really tried to hold in his laughter, he did.

“If it’s a real enemy and you’re able to, baby, you kick as hard as you can.” He answered once his laughing died down a little.

He felt so proud of you when he walked in the bedroom one afternoon and you were watching self defense videos, standing in the middle of the floor trying to mimic the moves on the laptop screen. He asked if you’d like to practice the moves on him and he was feeling more confident in your skills when you were able to actually push him away and swing full force at his face. He dodged the hit, but praised you and the new moves you had learned.

“Maybe you can practice on one of the members of the Port?” He offered as the two of you sat on the couch after a full evening of practice.

“Are you sure I’m strong enough for that?” He would have to tell them to take it easy on you, but he knew you would fight harder if you weren’t up against him.

“I know you are, and I’ll be right there the entire time, don’t worry.” He reassured you. He would most likely have you up against Tachihara or Gin (without her knives). It would be easier for you to start out fighting them.

Third Week of Training

You shuffled awkwardly next to him as you stood in the empty warehouse by the port. Gin and Tachihara were there, and he could feel you tense up. “Hey, they’re not going to hurt you. You’re just practicing.” He squeezed your hand in his to try to calm you.

“Who’s going first Chuuya?” Tachihara asked, he was too pumped up for this and it made you anxious and Chuuya picked up on it immediately.

“I’ll have her go up against Gin first.” He said, and Tachihara grumbled under his breath something unintelligible.

He was happy that he picked Gin first though. She moved in slow motion, not only letting you practice the moves that Chuuya had taught you, but also showing you new moves that she thought you should know. She taught you to move swiftly, adding in that it would be extra safe if you carried a blade on you at all time while shooting a glare over at Chuuya. He would have to take that into consideration.

By the time Gin was done with her lesson you were moving more quickly, mirroring her moves almost to a T. He watched in amazement as you moved quickly around Gin, dodging her strikes then throwing them right back at her.

Tachihara was a different story though, he didn’t teach you anything. He wanted the thrill of a fight, and Chuuya was worried the entire time that he would actually hurt you. You moved around Tachihara at almost lighting speed though, and at one point you kicked his legs out from under him and had him pinned down on the floor, one arm raised as if you were about to punch him square in the face. Chuuya would have been cheering for you if it weren’t for the smug look that Tachihara threw Chuuya’s way when you were basically straddling him to keep him pinned down.

“Alright and thats done!” Chuuya shouted, walking over to where you were, grabbing your hand to pull you up off of Tachihara.

“I think she did a great job.” Tachihara said, too smugly. “We’ll have to do that again.”

“Next time I’ll tell her to actually punch you.” Chuuya snapped back.

Once the two of you got back home he had to explain to you that the moves were great, but he didn’t like seeing you like that with someone else, even if it was a fighting technique.

Fourth Week of Training

You started training with Gin a lot more, especially after Chuuya agreed to let you have a blade of your own. She was shaping you to be an assassin just like her, and even though that’s not what Chuuya had planned, he wasn’t put off by the idea of you being more well off than if he had stuck to fist fighting.

His heart stopped when Gin had first snuck up behind you and held the knife to your neck, but then she taught you the same move and he started clapping when you got it down in the first try.

Sometimes Akutagawa would come to the warehouse to watch you train with his sister, standing on the sidelines with Chuuya. He was the only one who would criticize you, but as soon as you fixed your movements he would mumble an off handed compliment about how you’re getting better, but you still need more practice. Even though it got under Chuuya’s skin, it was nice to have someone there who could actually pick out the flaws in your moves instead of just praising you for everything you did right, like he did.

Some days when Chuuya would come home from work you’d practice your stealth attacks, coming out from seemingly nowhere and placing your blade against his throat. Before his mind could even register the shock you would pull the blade away and move in front of him, pressing a swift kiss to his lips.

He liked having you “practice” the move you did on Tachihara. Not because he liked when you had him pinned down on the floor, your hips grinding against his, your hands keeping his pinned above his head. Definitely not for that reason. >_>

~~~~~~~~~

It took only two months total for you to be practically Black Lizard level good, you had even learned how to use a gun, although you did a lot better with a knife. Although he still wasn’t completely comfortable with you leaving the house without him, he knew that you would be able to hold your own, at least against a couple thugs. He still feared what would happen if you came up against an ability user, but that was a thought for another day.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd request #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya imagines #chuuya scenarios #chuuya headcanons #chuuya nakahara scenarios #chuuya nakahara headcanons #chuuya nakahara imagines

[greywindys]

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.  

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.  

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”  

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds.  My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there. 

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night. 

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

#ficpost #2doc week 2020 #it's interesting to reflect on what's changed #anyhow! just a little thing to close out the week

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Kids Getting Older (Sriracha, Part 30.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could keep you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Since you realized that Eleven is getting older and more distant from both you and Jim, you just seem to finally realize how quickly kids grow... And that maybe the kids are not just kids anymore.

A/N: I love this weird family dynamic so much. It is really relaxing to just write a... Normal family dynamic. But that is going to end with the next part. Stay tuned!

Word count: 1.7 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @creedslove @missdictatorme

Master list: H E R E

Christmas holiday spent like a family? The Christmas of 1984 were the best Christmas you had lived through. You spent Christmas Eve in the house of your parents, cooking the dinner with El and mom, and Aiden's girlfriend - you couldn't believe she is real - while you let the boys talk about stuff and drink some Whiskey. Even Aiden got some - just a little, though.

The other day, when you opened all the presents you found under the tree, you left for Joyce's - and holy moly, that house was living. Both Wheelers were there, both Byers boys came along, there were Dustin, Lucas, and Max, even Steve came by. Joyce had a big heart and her house was big enough to take in so many people.

You forced both Hopper and Eleven to pose on a photo with you, having Jonathan taking the picture of you. Each of you had the most disgusting Christmas sweater, just because Aiden bought and gave you these bad boys - Hopper's was too tight, Eleven's too big and your, no matter the size, was just disgusting. After that, kids took their new toys and went to play outside while the adults, along with Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, remained in the house and had a cup of the special Christmas hot chocolate from Mrs. Byers herself.

Then, each of the kids got dressed up and went out for a snowball fight, snowman building and some sledding in the forest behind the house. And bet Hopper’s best shirt that you made him go too. Soon enough, you were there with all the teenagers while he stuck some snow under your jacket, hearing you laugh and scream out loud, having Will and Mike in total terror when you jumped around, trying to get the snow out. In the end, you formed a strong alliance with Eleven and Max, giving the boys exactly what they deserved, winning the fight completely. Then, to calm down, you proceeded to make some angels in the snow while Hop went back inside.

As the year progressed, Eleven started to have a few sleepovers here and there - sometimes, she stayed at Karen’s when boys had a movie or game nights, sometimes you had Max over for dinner. And let me say, since she was living with an asshat like Billy, her older brother, she loved spending time at your place. Especially when Hop had to stay at the station.

When talking about Hop, that man was experimenting. And you didn't know if you liked what you had at home or if you're afraid of what’s he going to come up with next. First came the mustache. Okay, he liked Magnum P.I., you could understand. Then, he put on a bit weight - he appeared taller and more like a bear than ever before. You didn't mind that at all actually because at least, you knew that he's happy with you. And... After that... The wardrobe and cologne experiments came by. Sometimes he pulled out such an outfit that you dragged him to the restaurant’s bathroom to kiss the living fuck out of him and to have a quickie on the bathroom.

Yet, sometimes, he wasn’t looking his best. At those mornings, you stood there, watched him with gritted teeth and walked around with your eyebrows raised. You tried to tell him gently that these maybe aren't working for him the way he would like to and that maybe, you could visit Starcourt with him to pick something else. But Jim was Jim and completely ignored your opinion when it came to fashion.

Starcourt. One of the best Bloomington-Hawkins inventions ever. You loved that place - from the big cinema to a variety of shops it had. Sometimes, when you knew that El won't be misbehaving after, you took there with you so she could choose some new clothes, sometimes you bought her an ice-cream, other times you just walked around the place and talked about boys and stuff. Especially about Mike.

Oh, you remembered the day when the three-inch rule came to your house. You were just watching a movie, curled under Hopper’s arms, being caught up in the chase. That was when a sudden burst of Eleven’s laughter could be heard, making Hop alarmed in a second. You tried to calm him down around this couple - it was the first love and it sure as hell was an intense one. You knew that these two were having make-out sessions behind the closed door... But were you two, you and Hop, any different when you met? No. You were kissing the living hell out of each other when any occasion came by, even after you moved back with him again, and since you were both adults, you even fucked every time and on every place, you got the chance to fuck on.

You were just like them - even at that time. But Jim was able to see incredible differences between you and him and Michael, as he called him, and Jane. He wasnt giving them any actual space, so there was no wonder, why Mike thought that Hopper is an old, insane bastard. You and Mike got along since you were normal when put in his words, and let them close the door. You built bridges of trust between you, Mike and Eleven and as long as you trusted them that they won't do anything insane, you let them have their time.

"Okay. That's it. That's it." - Hopper muttered out and got up, walking to the door. You tried to stop him from basically storming into the room, but it was too late. - "This door won't be closed as long as I'm in the house, do you both understand? Three inches at a minimum." - Jim told them with a pretty damn scary face as he showed them how to do it. When he got a nod from both Mike and Eleven, he left them be, still checking the door.

"You're too paranoid, Jim, I'm telling you." - You whispered once he sat down next to you again, cuddling you closer again. - "They're just kids." - You smiled and kissed his cheek, concentrating on the movie again. But Hopper was still very cautious about these two - his eyes were turning into their direction all the time, he was checking what they were doing until the very moment when Mike had to leave.

Over time, when Hopper had enough of constantly opening the door and checking on these two, you let the gang wonder around Hawkins with El, taking hikes in the woods and around the city. Sometimes they went to chill at the old sawmill near the town, but the all-time favorite was the hill about five miles from the city. They hanged there most of the time when spring and weather came.

You also did your best to spend time with Hopper, sometimes taking him for dinner at your favorite Spanish restaurant, sometimes you went for a walk too. But your favorite thing to do was still just hanging out with him at El. Of course, your mom made you visit them at least once a week. She wasnt too good at handling having both her children gone - both of them for college. Even Aiden had a girlfriend and sometimes, you just all went to their household to grill something and to chat. You loved Lena and you couldn't believe that she’s real. Your small bro was manning up rather quickly.

It was so weird since you could say when he and Steve ran naked around the swimming pool and where did he fell from his bike, telling Lena everything in the process, embarrassing the living shit out of Aiden. Naturally, she was first rather surprised about you dating such an older man, but as the time passed by, she got used to that tough guy and his douche jokes.

And Eleven had to say that she had everything she had ever dreamt of in the lab - parents, a family, a boyfriend, and friends. She even wasnt tugged in as a little girl anymore, she was going to bed on her will, with you kissing her whole face with laughter, hugging her tight every time. Her life couldn't be better. She especially loved when you and Jim didn't know she's watching and you put the gramophone on in the night, quietly, usually playing Sam Cooke or Ben E. King to dance in the living room. Jim was always making you laugh, he spun you around, whispered something to your ear, making you biting your lip as you smacked his shoulder - but for Eleven it was of sing that she can count on you.

But then, summer came by. You hadn't got any idea of why it was so weird. Eleven asked you if she can stay at Max’s on the fourth of July and even if you thought you’d celebrate it together, you let her have her time. You didn't have any idea of what was going on when Hopper suddenly disappeared without letting behind any message. Nobody gave you a clue that there are Russians set loose in and under Hawkins and that there is a fucking D&D monster who was possessing people with the help of Max’s brother himself.

On day two of loneliness, that was the fourth of July precisely, you had enough - you left to your moms and stayed there, waiting for anything. A call, a sign, for one of them showing up. But there was nothing. So you left for the shift that day - and that was where everything was set in motion without anyone of you normal people knowing.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #hopper stranger things #eleven #eleven hopper #eleven stranger things #eleven ives #mike wheeler #the kids gang #joyce byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #oh dear god

[antihero6912]

Resolutions

Here we go again. December 29th, 3 days away from 2022. Say what.

This year flew by and at the same time it didn’t.

Any to the way, same procedure as every year: here’s what I’m hoping for in 2022:

- run that Marathon! Let’s get the practice going and run it with ease in September

- get promoted at work by July

- get a raise (!) or at least ask for one

- see Courtney in Washington

- go on vacation with my whole family to see my brother again

- stop taking birth control by like the end of the year

- start seriously planing a pregnancy

- go on at least 4 flights 

- have a week long vacation not doing anything in an all-incluvise resort with H

- get. that. tesla

- GET FREAKING ENGAGED - yes I am wishing for it again this year because what the freaking hell is he waiting for and I swear I am going to lose my shit if it does not happen in 22 :-) 

- buy a new iPhone

- finish our garden in the front of the house in the first quartal because holy moly

- start growing gras in the backyard and plant some trees

- start being happy with how my body looks

- try new things and explore more

Honestly, all I want in 2022 is for my family to stay healthy, especially my mom. I hope she manages to not drink alcohol for the entire year and that my dad watches over her and us to stay healthy and get along as good as we do. I hope we continue to be healthy and happy, I hope we all get to keep our jobs and that there will be a light at the end of this tunnel of a pandemic. I hope my relationship with H is loving and honest and that we keep growing as a couple. I hope 2022 is a year we love for so many reasons :-)

[seven-oomen]

Happy Halloween, Ben!  I hope you are continuing to feel better!  Do you expect any trick-or-treaters tonight?  (Is that a thing in the Netherlands?)  I hope you find lots of good candy at the grocery store!  I myself have two bags of dark chocolate Kit Kats to hand out to all the kids I foresee coming by (*wink wink*)  Your pumpkin is adorable, by the way.  I wanted to do some cool faces with mine, but my friends that normally host a Halloween party decided to just hold their Costume and Pumpkin Decorating Contests online, and the theme was “2020”.  I thought “well, I’ll just get two pumpkins, and use one for the contest and one for whatever."  Then one of them started molding, which seemed very on brand for this year, so I just went with it, and ended up with meme pumpkins.  I included a color pic, so you can see just how gross the one got.  Fun fact: the top of it is held on by being skewered with a dowel rod and set in place along the rim.  In case you were curious (you probably weren’t, but oh well), trying to scoop out a moldy pumpkin is indeed deeply gross.  Imagine a physical manifestation of the sensation most people seem to feel when you say the word "moist”.  Just…so gross and squishy…  *shudders in remembrance*

My costume attempt turned out okay given that I managed to pull it together entirely out of things I already had.  In case you don’t recognize the symbol, I was one of the more recent comic versions of Black Canary (this one at least had proper shorts).  Let me tell you, trying to free hand draw that goddamn bird outline with no printer or projector was an adventure.  I had to do it backwards, essentially, too, because I realized that pencil marks are extremely difficult to erase off of craft foam.

And I just wanted to show off that I’m the kind of classy bitch who drinks wine out of a can (also, it’s an awesome can.)  To be fair, it was actually surprisingly decent (I say, as though I know shit about wine).  I sent a picture to a friend, and she started teasing me, and I said “it’s a rainbow can, how was I supposed to pass it up?”, and she was like “you know what, fair, I would have done the same thing."  I also got some kind of sparkling red wine to drink tonight for proper spooky effect.  The cashier commented on it being good as I was checking out, so here’s hoping.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

By the way, I totally wasn’t kidding about the Chris Evans/Henry Cavill rom com idea.  I totally went and found it in my FB messages and screen-shot it so that I can now inflict share it.  Buckle up, here we go:  So, Chris’s character’s great-aunt (played by Angela Landsbury) talks him into coming to stay with her along the English coast after his divorce, and help her run her mystery book shop.  Only, less than a week in, she runs off to go on vacation with her boy toy (Christopher Walken).  By this point, he’s already ended up in an unexpected rivalry with the co-owner of the comic shop next door (Henry), who’s been trying to get the great-aunt to sell him part of the bookstore’s storage space to build a table-top gaming area.  The woman (Natalie Dormer) who runs the little bakery/tea shop attached to the other side of the bookstore has a running bet with the other co-owner of the comic shop (John Boyega) on how long it will take for the two men to realize just what type of tension there actually is between them.  Chris could wear hipster glasses, and skinny jeans, and cozy sweaters/cardigans, that he could remove at strategic moments to reveal the ridiculousness that is his arms and chest.  Henry could wear tight jeans and fitted nerdy t-shirts and SET THE CURLS FREE GODDAMMIT.  And of course at least one encounter would have to happen at a dog park, because both their RL dogs are absolutely adorable and deserve a moment in the spotlight.  Please, Netflix, I’m begging you.  Make it happen.  (If you curious, this particular moment of inspiration struck during a discussion over "if Evans is America’s Ass, is Cavill Britain’s?"  My friends are also classy like me.  XD ) 

Well, on that note, I’m gonna shut up for a while, and go wash the color out of my hair, because I think it’s been on at least half an hour longer than it should be, technically.  Enjoy your sugary findings, and I hope they and your coffee give plenty of energy for writing your various projects! :D  I hope you continue to feel better, and that things keep looking up!  Take care!  *Properly socially distanced and seasonally spoopy hugs to you both!*

Okay 1: omg I need that gay wine. (Rainbow wine, whatever.) That is amazing, I love it. And I totally get why you needed that. I don’t have any wine for myself tonight. But I have some Budweiser (Or well “Bud” as it is called here), cans of coke and Jack Daniels, so I should be good.

 And I think your jacket turned out pretty well! Looks awesome. (Though I get what you mean about craftfoam. It is a bitch to work with when you only have pencils and no stencils.)

Halloween isn’t much of a thing here I’m afraid, aside from some witches who celebrate samhain and the uprising of general pop culture there aren’t many people who really celebrate Halloween like in the US. So no, I don’t expect any trick or treaters tonight (also because COVID has us on a 8 pm curfew). 

I think the Netherlands celebrates Saint Martin far more which Wikipedia explains pretty well as: Saint Martin's day, also known as the Funeral of Saint Martin, Martinstag or Martinmas, as well as Old Halloween and Old Hallowmas Eve is the Funeral day of Saint Martin of Tours (else Martin le Miséricordieux) and is celebrated on 11 November each year.

The day is celebrated on the evening of 11 November (the day Saint Martin was buried) in the Netherlands, where he is known as Sint-Maarten. As soon it gets dark, children up to the age of 11 or 12 (primary school age) go door to door with hand-crafted lanterns made of hollowed-out sugar beet or, more recently, paper, singing songs such as "Sinte Sinte Maarten", to receive candy or fruit in return. In the past, poor people would visit farms on the 11th of November to get food for the winter. In the 1600s, the city of Amsterdam held boat races on the lake IJ. 400 to 500 light craft, both rowing boats and sailboats, took part with a vast crowd on the banks.

But other than that we don’t really have a holiday where children go door to door to ask for candy.

It’s getting more popular now in recent years to do so on Halloween, as well as Halloween parties, but it’s not very widespread.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

Yeah I was really excited to write some fanfic for Love and Monsters and then today I started doubting that. And now I’m leaning towards writing more Petopher fic where Chris gets turned?

I blame @for-the-love-of-wolves​ for that one because I read their fic and now I’m like: that’s a good idea. I want to write that too. And now I can’t shake it.

I should really finish things but urgh... part of me just wants to write more teen wolf fanfic.

I’m really curious about your wip though, I hope that when you’re ready to share it, I get to read it too. ^^

Honestly, Netflix needs to make this idea happen. I insists. I wonder if my friend who works their customer service can pitch ideas but I don’t have much hope for that. Would be pretty awesome though to see this come alive because it’s GOOD! Holy moly I want that to happen now XD. Brittain’s ass is it, UK Vs US ass fight!

Wait is that too gay?

Ah who cares XD

I’m still snivelling with a cold but it’s only stuff coming out of my nose, for the most part, I’m doing pretty good and can focus somewhat on things again. And no real pain aside from the general ones.

So I’m gonna wish you Happy Halloween, have a good night and lots of socially distanced hugs from me and Mo.

#ben says stuff #my convos with anon #B #halloween #submission