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savebatsfromscratch · 3 years

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@dancinglifeboat I wrote the fanfic finally! :D

(Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32517502 )

A fic about Ghostbur and c!Solidaritygaming stuck together in limbo after their deaths. :) (It's really fluffy compared to what I usually write,.,,.)

(I put triggers for a few things in the tags but here are the ones I put on Ao3:

Death Downing Loss of a loved one Body Horror Getting shot? )

Please don't copy or repost anywhere!!

JIMMY + GHOSTBUR FIC START NOWWW-

“Ah!” he screamed, stabbing pain shooting through his head. The arrow had hit him right in the face, piercing through the skin easily and passing into his brain.

His knees hit the ground heavily, causing sand getting into the wounds that covered his skin. “Scott,” he hissed, blood filling his mouth as an unbearable pain covered all other senses. He fell forwards, the pressure not only pushing the arrow further into his skull, but also chipping his last life away. It was as if he had been torn from his body and thrown back, the ghostly spirit staying floating for a moment before being dragged down, down, down, until he no longer knew which direction was up.

. . .

Darkness filled his vision, the drowned’s glowing blue eyes burning with tears as he spun through the void. His lungs seemed to be filled with water, the drowning constant and inescapable. Occasionally, he would think he would spot a star, but every time it would be swiftly snuffed out before he got a good look at it, so it wasn’t much of a comfort. He would try to scream, in pain or for help it didn’t matter, his mouth would be filled with some inky substance that choked the words away. Ears rang and buzzed as he tried to focus on any sound at all. There was so much but it was all so far away…

He missed his husband. That man would have been able to help him, he would have pulled him out of the darkness and chided him, “Be more careful around the lake Jimmy, you don’t want to drown do you?” and then he would have pulled him into a hug and run his fingers through his hair, gently asking if he was alright. ...and he would be. Everything would be good and he would be fine.

Light would filter through clouds and illuminate the flowers around the lake. The border to their side would have meant nothing, they could just hug and finally be together. Scott could teach him how to build better, slowly helping sculpt his house into slightly less of a mess. He would teach him how to play Chick-Chance and purposely pick eggs to let Scott win. Both of them would pet Daisy, pretending she was still the original. Maybe they could even have won that twisted story. Maybe, in this fantasy, Jimmy wouldn’t have been the first to die.

Dragged back into reality, he let out a pained sob, the inky blackness instantly gagging him, filling his lungs with even more unbearable sludge. It hurt so much. Why couldn’t Scott just be here with him? Why must he suffer alone? Was this what he had experienced on his first “last death”? Was that why he couldn’t remember it or much of what came before? So many questions plagued his mind, but even more pain prevented any of them from being thought about. It was blinding as the stars of night, and as smothering as the smoke from a bad memory. God it was awful.

Until it wasn’t.

He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point, the pain of the void had gone away. He had lost the memory of any cycle of time, and the only memory of “sleep” was too hard to think about. It reminded him of better times, which in turn made him think about why he was here. It was a sort of limbo, and it felt like the end of the world was already here.

But he still told himself it was alright.

-- - - - -

Sometime later something interesting happened. There was a loud sound and a huge puff of smoke. Jimmy had tried to swim away from it at first, but his eyes had caught on what was left in that smoke. A man had been left sitting there, shaking and crying, and trying desperately to leave. He seemed to be stuck on some sort of concrete square, while Jimmy could float and swim as he pleased. (However, he couldn’t really breathe, while the man on the platform seemed to be hyperventilating just fine. He wasn’t sure if he was jealous of this or not.)

Eventually, he had worked up the courage to move towards the man, but, as he did, odd things happened. He would be thrown through the blackness at random intervals, always crashing into a wall he knew was not there. He would feel an awful pain in his chest as if he was stabbed through with a sword. He would imagine odd scenes, TNT blowing up over a nation he did not know, a blue sheep walking softly through a nether portal. It had to mean something... but what? That he did not know. Of course, things he did know were shown to him as well. Memories would work their way to the surface, and as expected, they were always things he wished to forget. Bubbles rising slowly to the surface of a loser’s lagon, a church in flames, fire spreading across a cobblestone floor, a definingly loud explosion, an arrow through his skull. . . There seemed to be a sort of pattern here, but he refused to see it.

Even so, he pushed on.

The distance between the two shrank slower than he had thought possible. He would struggle through the darkness as if it was some sort of sticky slime in need of cleaning, but eventually, his squirming paid off.

His feet touched down on the island of concrete, and instantly he felt gravity fall back onto him. But that wasn’t the only thing that was back. He fell to his knees, coughing and retching, trying to get the sludge out of his lungs. He suddenly felt the need to breathe burning through him, and honestly, the scared voice asking if he was alright was the least of his worries right now. He hacked and choked, until, with a loud and wet splattering sound, a hunk of black-ish purple goo hit the ground in front of him.

He stayed that way for a moment, trembling and relishing the air. Even if it was sort of the opposite of fresh, he hadn’t taken a breath in so long that it could have been a newly discovered continent, it felt so good. However, as he stared into the purple-ish goo that he had expelled from his lungs, he became increasingly aware of eyes on his back. After a few moments of frozen fear, he remembered why he was here in the first place. A man, on the edge of a train station floating in the void. He looked up.

There he stood, cowering slightly, pure white eyes staring into his own muted ones. He had on an oversized sweater stained with something blue, and hands covered with a similar shade. The man was a curious fellow, that’s for sure, but Jimmy had already known that. All that struggling through limbo to get to him had pretty much cemented the image in his mind. (Not to mention all of the other curious fellows he had known in his… life.)

After a minute of staring at each other, the man finally spoke, “Who are you?” he asked, his voice was airy and slightly echoey, which would have been weird if Jimmy wasn’t dead.

He thought for a moment, wondering which of his many names would be the best introduction in this inky world. Not Jimmy, no, that might remind him of Scott. (Just the thought of his husband tore an aching hole in his heart.) And not Timmy either, that brought back memories of Grian…

“I’m Ghostbur by the way,” Jimmy looked up, eyes widening slightly at the abrupt speaking. The man didn’t seem to mind though, “In case you didn’t want to go first,”

Jimmy smiled at this, Ghostbur seemed to be a wonderful man, even if he did find it a little odd that he didn’t seem at all disturbed by his entrance to the room. It had been rather odd.

“I’m Solidarity,” He finally said, his voice sounding stronger compared to Ghostbur’s, despite the slight croak in it from not speaking for so long. (Not to mention the drowning.)

“Solidarity? That’s a nice name,” The man smiled slightly at him, his voice and movements seeming to blur around the edges as he walked to a different tile. How strange. It reminded him of how he had been back on his last server, how, instead of having bloodlust, he had begun to crumble away. It wasn’t a memory he liked to think about.

“Thank you,” Jimmy finally said, pausing for a moment before quickly adding, “I find your name quite nice as well,” He felt awkward in the conversation. It had been so long since he had talked to someone.

“Thank you!” Ghostbur replied, happily spinning around once, a drop of the blue stuff falling off his hand onto the floor as he did, “It’s ‘Wilbur’ bur with ‘Ghost’ instead of ‘Will’,” here he suddenly became serious, though the same airly tone was kept, “But please don’t call me Wilbur, I am not him,”

Solidarity nodded, not quite understanding the request but knowing that it was important to follow such things. Who knows? Maybe this ‘Wilbur’ guy had done some really bad things that Ghostbur had gotten blamed for. It didn’t seem very likely, but who’s to say that it wasn’t true?

They stood there for a moment longer, Ghostbur humming to himself quietly, eyes closed as if he was imagining that he was someplace else. Jimmy cocked his head to the side, trying to get up the courage to ask something. What that ‘something’ was was still a work in progress though. Maybe he could ask about the weird visions he had gotten as he tried to get here, maybe ask about the blue stuff that occasionally dripped onto the floor. Maybe Jimmy could even ask if this man knew where they were, or about the train that had dropped him off. It was worth trying.

But before he got too, Ghostbur spoke again. His voice rang across the concrete floor, almost as if there was a large room that surrounded only him. “You have very nice eyes Mr. Solidarity,” he said, “They are a very pretty blue,”

Jimmy smiled weakly at that, “They used to be more so, but... something happened,” of course, he wasn’t going to share what that something was, drowning wasn’t a very fun topic for small talk.

Luckily for him though, the man didn’t press, “I find them very nice,” he said matter-a-factly, “Much better than all of this red,” he shuddered and shut his eyes, the light from them extinguished like a communicator band being shut off. But that disappearance of the whiteness wasn’t that important, especially when held up to what Ghostbur had just said. Red? What red? Solidarity looked around and saw none. Only the blackness of the void and the flat grey of the tiles beneath their feet.

“But you are here!” Ghostbur suddenly said, looking up very quickly as he did, "And you wear blue clothes, and have blue eyes, and slightly blue skin!” The man laughed softly at his luck. Jimmy however, cringed back, yes his skin was slightly blue now, but that was because of his… deaths. (Drowneds tended to have at least slightly blue skin.)

...But what Ghostbur was saying hadn’t been meant to be rude, so Jimmy just ignored the slight pain in his lungs at the memories and laughed along with the other man. (Who, by the way, seemed delighted to finally be distracted by whatever he saw around them. By now Solidarity had guessed it was much different than his own view. Though what that entailed was entirely up for debate.)

“It’s great to have another person here!” The man’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but instead of sounding funny or endearing, it sounded like he was trying to keep Jimmy here. Like a small animal searching for a parent. Something that Jimmy could wholeheartedly relate to, despite how sad it may be.

But he wasn’t longing for a parent or friend, he was crying for Scott, and he had a feeling that this Ghostbur wasn’t looking for a family member either. . . . Though he had never been great at interpreting things so he could be wrong.

“It is great to have another person here. I was floating in that void for so long you wouldn’t believe,” Solidarity grimaced, the thought of it reminding him of the icky slime choking him. Painful and disgusting, two of the things you hoped you wouldn’t run into after death.

“Void?” Ghostbur innocently asked, prompting Solidarity to look up at the other man in confusion. He had guessed that he had been seeing things differently than Ghostbur, but he had been thinking like… a shift in color. Not a whole different place.

He nodded slowly, eyes locked on Ghostbur’s. The glowing white of them was unyielding of any emotion, “Yeah the void,” he turned and gestured vaguely towards the inky blackness behind him, “Where I came from?” he looked back to see that Ghostbur had cocked his head to the side. Confusion now painted on his face.

“Mr. Solidarity, that's a wall,” he said softly, “A wall that opened into a door that you climbed out of,” his voice shook a bit more than it had previously, Jimmy frowned at this, the motion only deepening when Ghostbur continued, “The door is gone now, but you definitely did come out of one,”

Solidarity shook his head slowly, eyes kept on Ghostbur’s the whole time, “Ghostbur I swear that I’m seeing blank blackness out there,” he turned to look at the ‘blank blackness’ and stared into it. Yep, that was definitely not a wall. He looked back at Ghostbur in time for the man to speak.

“I see a concrete wall,” he spoke quietly and uncertainly, as if he was suddenly not so sure of it himself, “A concrete wall with windows filled with red,” his voice broke upon mentioning the color, and Jimmy suddenly realised what the man had meant by the, ‘much better than all this red,’ earlier.

“Ah well, maybe one of us is wrong,” Jimmy quickly said, taking a step forward and attempting to set his hand on Ghostbur’s shoulder, but to his surprise, it went right through him. It wasn’t like there was nothing there really, more like a really warm summer day, one where you could have sworn that you were underwater.

They both stared at each other for a moment, but the slightly shocked silence was broken when Ghostbur continued their conversation. “I hope that I’m wrong,” he whispered, taking a step back and causing another drop of the blue stuff to hit the ground. It landed in the crack between two tiles, and spread out accordingly, but Solidarity saw none of this, only thinking about his hand going right through the man. Ghostbur, that was his name, but could he really be… well, a ghost? Jimmy was dead, so maybe this guy was as well?

Jimmy turned and stared at the void behind him, the blackness causing strange patterns in his vision the more he stared at it. He wondered if that was his eyes being bad again or just a trick of the light, either way, it did nothing to comfort the growing worry in his stomach. If this ghost had pulled into this place, could it be possible to get out? Maybe Jimmy could see Scott again.

He looked back at Ghostbur, not at all surprised to see the man standing right where he had been left, shaking slightly and looking about the platform. His eyes reflected a reddish color that Jimmy could not see coming from anywhere else. This saddened him, maybe the color that seemed to scare him so much was really all around him. It was comparable to his swim through the darkness, the sludge filling his lungs and drowning out both his own sounds and everything else's. (Not to mention drowning him.)

“Hey-” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Ghostbur, why is it that you are… here?” he tried, cringing inwardly at the question he had asked, a feeling only magnified by the ghost’s reaction to it. He looked directly into Jimmy’s eyes, sadness visible in the glowing white things even without an iris or pupil to help them.

“I was… killed by someone,” he sniffled angrily, voice shaking violently the longer the sentence went on, “I thought it was going to be oka-y,” he cried, voice echoing around the area while still sounding as non-threatening as it had from the start.

“It’s alright-” Solidarity started, stepping forwards and just barely stopping himself from putting his hand on the other’s shoulder, “I was, um, murdered as well,” he scratched the back of his head, “... so I understand what your going through,”

Ghostbur nodded and inhaled shakily (yet ever so bravely), “Thank you Mr. Solidarity,” he looked to the ground, glowing eyes half-closed and full of tears, “It means a lot that you are here,” he paused for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say, “Thank you for being my friend,” he finally finished, looking up to look at the drowned man.

Jimmy simply nodded, glad to see that the crying seemed to be over, “Thank you for being my friend too,” He smiled, “It’s been so long since I had someone to talk to,”

Ghostbur nodded back at him, his airy laugh filling the void with a warmth that wouldn’t normally be expected of such a place. It was calming, and Jimmy was truly glad he was here. A ghost and a drowned, an unlikely, but hopefully long-lasting friendship.

-- - - - -

It had been many uncountable days sitting there, oncationaly comforting his new ghost friend (or the other way around), staring into the blackness and discussing what was seen there (a wall apparently), or even sharing past stories. Ghostbur talked fondly of a blue sheep he had known while he was alive, and Jimmy was happily able to discuss fun stories from X-Life. (Because the wounds were less fresh than 3rd Life.) Ghostbur took delight in the tales of Jeremyism and the Coven, and always had something cryptic to add about his own past. It was nice, but it sure wasn’t comfortable, for, whenever you think about happy memories, painful ones pop up.

That was how they had ended up in this position. Ghostbur leaned on Jimmy’s shoulder (Because he couldn’t lean on him) while both of them thought about sad things. Ghostbur would occasionally sniffle and wipe his face with his arms. But the rising steam off his tears didn’t shock Solidarity anymore, it had become normal. He supposed that was what happened when you were dead and didn’t have anything to do.

Jimmy leaned back, shifting a bit more weight to his arms, and sighed. He felt Ghostbur adjust his potion slightly to follow the movement, the Ghost’s arms were wrapped around him and occasionally clipping just a centimeter or two into his sides.

“What is it?” Asked Ghostbur, his friend’s voice was shaky and brave, as if he was struggling to hold back his tears, which, of course, he was.

Jimmy sighed again before speaking, not really caring that the sound was getting repetitive, there were only the two of them here anyway. “I was just thinking about someone that I miss,” He turned to look at Ghostbur, the man’s white eyes blurring around the edges with burning tears, “I’m sure you have people like that,”

For a moment Ghostbur didn’t move and Solidarity regretted his phrasing, but before he could apologize, his friend spoke. “I do miss many people,” he whispered, “Tommy, Ranboo, Friend,” he sighed, the sound a direct contrast to the recent two Jimmy had just made. Instead of being loud and sudden, it seemed to blend in with the nothingness around the two. Though both seemed just as hopeless as the other. (Maybe that’s just what happened when you were stuck in limbo without your loved ones.)

It was a moment before either continued the conversation, instead choosing to rest in each other’s company. Sure they may not have their traditional loved-ones, but at least they had a friend.

“You’ve talked about them right?” Jimmy whispered, staring off into the blank space that surrounded the platform. (Even if he appeared to be staring at a wall from Ghostbur’s perspective.)

“I have,” the man replied simply. He sounded slightly hopeful, but Jimmy really didn’t know why.

“Were they good friends?” he tried

Ghostbur smiled and clipped a little further into his ribs, “Yes they were good friends,” he paused for a moment before finishing off his statement, “For the most part anyway,”

Jimmy nodded and tried his best to not attempt to hug Ghostbur back. You see, the ghost could touch him, but he could not do the same if that makes sense. It was the intent of the movements. If Ghostbur wanted to shake his hand, they could, as long as Jimmy didn’t shake his hand back. (Because if he did his hand would go right through the other’s.) But he did really want to hug Ghostbur sometimes, as a lot of friends do.

“Not all of my friends were always nice to me,” he comforted Ghostbur, hoping that the words would work in place of a hug. As Ghostbur lessened his grip and smiled at him however, Jimmy’s thoughts were plunged into darkness. Memories of two of the nations he had lived in in the past, X Life and 3rd Life, filled his brain. Scott, Tango, Skizz, even Joel. How could any of them have done that stuff? He forgave Scott of course, as the poor man was his husband after all, but all the others? He wasn’t so sure about them.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Ghostbur speaking, the ghost’s airy voice blowing away the negative emotions he had been feeling a moment before. “You are very kind Mr. Solidarity,” he said, “And, I know I say this a lot, but I am glad to have you,” The words were so genuine that Solidarity couldn’t help but smile.

“That's great to hear man,” he whispered, “I love you too,” and, when Ghostbur looked at him oddly, Jimmy simply laughed. “As a friend! As a friend,” here he looked at the aforementioned friend and paused for a moment, “Do friends ever say where you are from?”

Ghostbur thought about this for a moment, really pondering the fact apparently, because it was a full 10 seconds before he spoke. (Jimmy counted.) “Yes they did, but,” here the ghost blushed a blue that would have calmed him down if he could see it, “Not many people really said it to me,”

Jimmy sighed and wished for the second time that conversation to just be a ghost, and not a drowned, so he could hug the poor man. “You deserve people saying they love you, don’t ever let anyone say otherwise,”

Ghostbur smiled that soft smile of his and laughed, the sound echoing around the train station that Jimmy could not see. “Don’t worry Mr. Solidarity, I don’t think there is anyone else here to tell me that,” and, though it was a joke, the words made the drowned sad, he laughed along with Ghostbur (because it truly was a funny joke) but inside he was worried. Why were they the only ones here? If this was an afterlife, why weren’t the other people on 3rd life here? He knew he was the first to die in that nation, but surely others had died by now . . . right? Suddenly his heart sank, unless everyone had been released from the spell when he had died.

If that was truly the case, why had the rules of the land been worded that way? And, as an even worse thought, if it wasn’t the case, where was everyone? He scanned the void around for any signs of life, hoping the whole time that Ghostbur didn’t notice his worry. The last thing he wanted was for his only friend here to see him upset. (Sure it had happened many times before, but it was so awful every time.) But no, no more chunks of land in the sky were found. Maybe they were still spiraling through it, possibly with the sense of burning or being struck with arrows? How was he to know their deaths, he had gone first.

Unfortunately for him, Ghostbur’s innocent voice interrupted his thinking, “Are you alright?” he asked, sounding very concerned and decently curious. Both good things if you are looking for comfort, but not so good if you want to bury the emotions and never have them be found.

He looked at the other man, eyes taking just a moment to focus on his friend’s face. Friendly void like eyes with grey-ish hair, he couldn’t name a better duo. (Well he could, but thinking about himself and Scott made him sad.)

“Uh yeah, I’m fine,” he said, hoping to Prime, Jeremy, or any other god out there (maybe even Kristen) that Ghostbur couldn’t tell he was lying. However, they must not have heard him, because a moment later his friend shook his head and frowned at him.

“I can tell when you are lying about something,” the friendly ghost chided him, “and after all that cheering up you keep making me do, I want to help you!”

That was a sweet gesture, but oh it came at such a bad time.

“No really! I’m doing good-” Jimmy started, but he was put to a stop by the other man standing up and grabbing his hand. He could have just pulled away, but he was rather curious now.

“Come,” Ghostbur said simply, leading him away from their spot. As he was dragged forwards, Jimmy smiled slightly at the blue stain spreading to his own fingers, that wasn’t going to come out any time soon. It would eventually fade (As the two had discovered by the puddles of blue about the station disappearing.) but it would take a while. It never seemed to fade from Ghostbur though, he wondered why that was…

“Here!” Ghostbur said happily, pushing Jimmy forwards and what he guessed was some sort of wall. (He couldn’t see it though.)

He looked at his friend in confusion, gesturing to the space in front of him and shrugging. When Ghostbur looked at him with the same expression that Jimmy had, the drowned explained. “I can’t see what’s here, it’s all just void to me,”

Ghostbur frowned at this, eyes narrowing in thought as he did. “He must be thinking about how to show whatever it is to me,” Jimmy thought, “It must be really important then,”

After just a moment Ghostbur seemed to come to a conclusion, carefully stepping up to the edge on the platform and standing on his tiptoes. Jimmy bit his lip, even though he knew that Ghostbur saw a wall there (And for him there really was one, Jimmy had seen him climb it before.) he was still worried. He didn’t want his friend to fall into the void.

He looked away as Ghostbur seemed to teeter on the edge, arms reached up as if to grab something. He was too afraid to check what was going on. RIP! Solidarity looked up, suddenly extremely confused what that sound had been. What he saw however, shocked him.

Ghostbur was standing in the same place as before, but in his hands was some sort of poster style advertisement. It was missing the very top corner of it, and Jimmy guessed that that was what had made the ripping noise. However, he had never been so happy to see such a damaged piece of art.

“Do you like it?” Asked Ghostbur expectantly, handing him the poster with his blue-stained hands. All Jimmy could do was nod, taking the picture and holding it close to him. Sure, it was monochromatic red, and stained with blue from the hands of his friend, but it was a picture of someone he loved dearly. Scott.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Jimmy managed to get a word out, hugging the advertisement to his chest as he spoke, he said, “How do you have this?” His voice sounded weak even to him, it was in stark contrast to his normal tone, which opted to sound strong and confident. But, neither was bad.

Ghostbur laughed, hugging his friend in what could only be described as a pounce. “It was on the wall! Along with several other advertisements for other things that I know. El Rapids, the Egg, things like that,” the ghost pulled back out of the hug, giving Jimmy more room to look at his new favorite thing, “MCC fits in right with them,” he finished. He sounded truly proud of himself, though his voice still echoed around the edges, it was a nice change.

“Thank you so much, how can I-?” Jimmy stared, looking up from the photo of his husband and back into his friend’s face as he was shushed.

“You don’t have to do anything! I just wanted to cheer you up,” the ghost grinned, hands still strongly held on Solidarity’s arms. It was a friendly gesture, and since it only slightly hindered his ability to see the paper, he didn’t ask his friend to stop.

After a moment of happy silence, Jimmy spoke, and, though his voice shook as he did, it was purely joyful. “You certainly cheered me up,” he smiled, turning to his friend with eyes full of newfound appreciation.

Ghostbur only laughed.

-- - - - -

Since that last memory, Ghostbur had become more vocal about the train station around them. (Or just him? Jimmy couldn’t really tell.) He explained the staircase that was closed and unclimbable, and was impressed when Jimmy guessed that it was that way because it was off the platform he could see. Ghostbur expressed his distaste for the lights above, apparently, they were a very bright and uncomfortable red. Solidarity expressed his pity for his friend and was sure to try to comfort him. The ghost thanked him profusely and explained that it was starting to hurt less now that they had been here for more than two months. This confused Jimmy, both because he couldn’t believe it had been that long and because he couldn’t believe it hadn’t been longer (not even mentioning how he didn’t have a guess how Ghostbur knew that), but he didn’t say anything.

Or at least, for a while the lights were getting better.

Ghostbur consistently complained about cracks in his vision, in a normal situation, Jimmy would have found this to be nothing to worry about. Sunlight causes vision to wig out, that’s just a known fact, but that didn’t quite explain what was happening with his friend. Probably because, well, there wasn’t really any sun here, and though darkness would also cause sight to mess with itself, Ghostbur wasn’t exactly surrounded by the same void that JImmy was.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, putting a stop to his friend’s frantic rambling in a way that he hoped wasn’t too harsh. He knew it wasn’t always a good idea to interpret someone while they talked about something important to them. (This was known for many reasons, but a big one for Jimmy was how when, back on Evo of course, Grian was excitedly explaining the best ways to prank people and was rudely interrupted. It wouldn’t normally be a problem to make someone shut up if they were talking about the best way to kill you, but Grian was a different breed. His whole house had been full of traps the next time he had stepped into it. Oh what a time.) But, back in the present, he did know that he deserved to be worried if his only accessible friend was having health problems.

Ghostbur sighed, burying his head in his knees and nodding into them. “I’m fine Mr. Solidarity,” he finally said, “My eyes just hurt a little bit,” (In the last few words his voice escalated in an octave and gained some echo, both of which made Jimmy think that maybe he wasn’t so fine.)

“Are you sure-?” he started, cutting himself off when he accidentally sent his hand through his friend’s shoulder trying to pat him on it.

Ghostbur stifled a laugh and pushed his hand away, “I’ll be fine, things are just feeling a bit bright again,” Jimmy would have accepted that answer had it not been for the slight shaking in the other man’s voice, as it was, the only person he could talk to was this guy, and if he got hurt, well, Jimmy would be plagued with non-ending worry.

He didn’t act on his thoughts though, opting instead to stare into the void with a concerned look in his eyes. It was easier to think if you had the right emotion for the job that was for sure.

But instead of instantly knowing what to do, he was instead plagued with thoughts of all the things that could be going wrong. Was Ghostbur melting away? It seemed unlikely, but he supposed that since he didn’t know how this limbo thing worked, it could work like that. Or maybe Ghostbur was going blind? That wasn’t necessarily a bad option, because he knew that people could still live wonderful fulfilling lives while being blind, but it did take some getting used to. Or- no wait, why was he doing this? Ghostbur could have simply strained his eye for all he knew, he didn’t have access to every emotion he felt. . . .but something in the back of his mind still told him to help.

-and that’s when he got it. The perfect plan.

“What are you doing?” Ghostbur asked, his voice a rather well mixed mash of curiosity, confusion and pain. But Jimmy couldn’t really argue with them, as they all fit the situation perfectly.

“I’m just tearing a bit of fabric off my sleeve,” he answered casually, doing just as he said.

He felt Ghostbur stare at him for a few moments, those pure white eyes boring right through his body the whole time. “But…” He could almost hear Ghostbur blushing as he paused, “Isn't that going to be permanent…? We don’t have a needle or any thread,”

Now it was Jimmy’s turn to flush as his friend’s confused and echoey voice told him things he already knew. “Well I thought that maybe if your eyes hurt it was a good idea to rest them,” he admitted, finishing off the strip of fabric with a satisfying ripping noise as he finished speaking, “So I’m making you an eye mask,”

Ghostbur emited a sound that could have been either one of appreciation or worry. Jimmy hoped it was the earlier option.

“That is very nice of you,” the ghost whispered, and, as Jimmy saw when he looked back at him, closed his eyes and stuffed his head into his sweatshirt. Probably hoping to get some of that ‘rest’ that Jimmy had mentioned earlier.

But he continued to work, checking the fabric for gross looking sections as he went. (Being undead, he had some rotting patches of skin and truth be told, he didn’t really want any of that getting into Ghostbur’s already hurting eyes.) Once that task was done, Solidarity sighed and leaned back on the concrete floor, searching the empty platform for things to make the eye mask look better. Of course he found nothing.

Was the gift done? He wanted to be absolutely sure that this was what his friend deserved. (Which was the best of course.) He didn’t think it was done, but there wasn’t much more he could really do with it. He could probably pull one of the flowers out of his hair to decorate it with, but the two dead men had already figured out that flowers followed in their footsteps when unattached from Jimmy. It was a blessing and a curse really. Having such nice plants right there but not being able to remove them (even to see them) for fear they would be gone forever.

He supposed that the gift must be done if he couldn’t do anything more with it. He looked sadly down at the new torn patch in his sleeve, hopefully Ghostbur would like this eye mask, blindfold thing, because if he didn’t Jimmy would have just torn away part of his sleeve for no reason.

He waited as long as he could, listening to the soft breathing of his sleeping friend the whole time. (Apparently it was effective to sleep with your head shoved into your sweatshirt, who knew.) But after a few minutes of fidgeting, he decided he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Ghostbur?” he asked, tapping the concrete floor as loudly as he dared, “I think I’m done with the thing,”

Instead of waking up however, Ghostbur simply rolled over, his face slipping out of his sweatshirt and coming to meet the floor instead. His nose came to a rest right over the edge of the border between two tiles. It was almost as if it was made for exactly this situation, that made Jimmy laugh, maybe he should let him rest a bit longer.

He laid back down, though he was unsure of when he had sat back up really, must have happened while he was thinking. The floor was just as uncomfortable and cold as it always was, but as he flattened against it he realised how tired he was, and, closing his eyes, he dipped into sleep.

He dreamed.

He dreamed that he was back in life, but it was a strange sort of life. Many friends he had known were there, and though not all of them made sense to be in that same place (Netty and Lizzy for example,) one stood out past any others. Among all the evolutionists, X lifers, and 3rd lifers there stood one ghost. One ghost among the undead and unknown.

“Hello Mr. Solidarity!” his friend happily called, “I’m so happy to meet all your friends!” Jimmy noticed that his voice was unnaturally strong for him, but he didn’t mind it, instead choosing to indulge in this fantasy of a dream.

“Hey Ghostbur,” he smiled, reaching out to shake hands with his friend, and not questioning when he was able to initiate the touch, “What’s going on over on the Dream SMP?”

Ghostbur pouted and shook his head, “The trains keep pulling into the station,”

If Solidarity had heard such a thing in normal life, he would have questioned why it had been said, however, because this was a dream, he didn’t think twice, instead shaking his head understandingly. “That really stinks man,” he closed his eyes and threw his head back to the sky, “Who’s driving them this time?” It was nonsensical words, but a small bit of logic in the back of his head told him that maybe it was important.

Reacting as if his subconscious was correct, Ghostbur looked from side to side, almost as if he was trying to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation, before he continued. “It’s been Dream most times, but the other day I saw a bunch of blue lambs in the driver's seat instead,”

Jimmy laughed as Ghostbur did, the former serious state of the conversation evaporating as his knowledge of his dreaming state did. Now it was just a fun little brain story, as a lot of things are.

“Say, Ghostbur,” he started, a giddy smile plastered on his face as he spoke, “Have you seen Scott around here?” (If Jimmy was still even a little awake he would have remembered that the dream had placed his husband right beside him, but he was fully asleep by now.)

Ghostbur shook his head, shrugging even as his smile refused to waver, “I have not seen him,” Suddenly, a cold feeling filled the air. Solidarity looked up in fear as Ghostbur put a hand on his chest. “Why don’t you go see him?” The smile twisted as his hand pushed right through him, and pain shot through his body as blankness filled his vision.

Jimmy woke in a cold sweat, sitting up faster than was really necessary as he did. What the heck was that?! A weird dream that’s what. He looked down at his hand, breathing slowing to a more normal pace as he stared at the object there. Ghostbur was absolutely correct, blue could calm a person down. He stared for a moment, evening his breaths and trying to figure out what in the world he had been thinking about a moment before. But, as all dreams do, it was gone in seconds.

He turned to Ghostbur and was happy to see his friend laying half asleep next to him, eyes open halfway and reflecting the red they always did. He looked so tired and Solidarity found it funny, he usually woke up rather fast, but it had already been proven many times that Ghostbur was not like him in that regard. Sure, they may both be dead, but they sure as heck don’t wake up at the same speed.

They stayed that way for a few moments, only stopping when Ghostbur turned to him and yawned, which was so funny that Jimmy simply had to laugh. Ghostbur’s sleepy blinking as he tried to figure out what was so funny acted only as fuel to the fire that was Jimmy’s amusement.

Eventually however, he managed to calm down, taking the chance to hand Ghostbur the piece of fabric and explain what it was for, “This is supposed to be an eye mask,” he started, gesturing at the object now clutched in his friend’s grasp, “You put it over your eyes to block out light. I thought that you might like having something blue to hide all that red,”

It took a moment for Ghostbur to react, but once he did, he was very thankful. Instantly tying the thing around his head and gasping with joy.

“It works!” he yelped, his voice sounding even more echoey than it normally did. (Thanks to his tiredness Jimmy guessed.) “Thank you so much!” He smiled an eyeless smile at his friend, “I am glad that I have this,”

“You’re welcome,” Solidarity grinned, “I’m glad it does,” They sat that way for a moment, Ghostbur happily humming to himself as he stared into the blue fabric. However, Solidarity instantly found it in him to speak again, “But do you want to uh.. See anything?” he gestured around himself before remembering that Ghostbur probably couldn’t tell he was doing it, “There’s the void right over there,”

Ghostbur laughed an echoey laugh and shook his head, “I can’t fall into it remember? Plus, there isn't really that much around to look at,”

He couldn’t argue with that.

-- - - - -

Jimmy had grown to like this new home, and (with the help of his fabric piece) Ghostbur had too. They had figured out how to make it comfortable, however, there was no way to deny that it was still limbo. It had been so long since Jimmy had been in the void that he hardly remembered what it felt like, so sometimes he longed for that feeling again, but every time those sorts of thoughts appeared, the happiness in that empty station brought him back. It was so nice, him and a good friend, two people able to bond over shared experiences despite not knowing each other in life. The causal energy of that sort of thing was nothing less than a breeding ground for laziness, and he was glad for it.

But it was in the moments lazing around the platform (staring at his MCC advertisement and being hugged by Ghostbur that is) that he noticed something. Something… new.

He sat up, causing Ghostbur’s arms to pass right through his chest and his shoes to make an awful squeaking noise against the concrete floor, and stared into the void. What he saw there was nothing short of a shock.

There, nestled against the blanketing blackness of nothingness, sat a place he knew. A welcomingly sunny valley with a beautifully built home and a lake that spilled into nothing. But most importantly, he could see movement. Specifically flowers wavering in the wind and a blurry person making their way across the clearing. Could it be?

“What is it?” Ghostbur asked curiously, standing slowly as he removed the makeshift blindfold to get a better look at whatever it was. But instead of cocking his head to the side and complaining about the walls and red lights, he blinked a few times before gasping.

“Can you see it?” Solidarity asked, breathlessly making his way to the edge of the platform. When no response came, he wondered if his friend had responded with a nod or a shake of his head, and he was tempted to look back, but only for a moment. His eyes were too glued to the island to worry about such a thing. (Not that Ghostbur’s input was unimportant, there were just a few more important things happening. Not even including the speeding beating of his heart and the hope spreading through his soul.)

But as Jimmy stood on his tiptoes on the edge of the station, Ghostbur’s response came. “Is this what you’ve been seeing all this time?” He whispered, “It’s beautiful…”

Jimmy turned to his friend, “I don’t know what you are seeing, but if it’s blackness with no stars, then yes,” (He found that paying attention to the person you have spent nearly three months with was sort of important, you don’t want them to leave do you?)

Ghostbur slowly shook his head, happy looking tears spilling down his face and causing wisps of smoke to float off into nothingness. “No,” he choked, “There's something out there,” he gestured to the void, “Out there in all that darkness, there is something bright and blue,”

Solidarity turned back to what he was talking about, happy to see that it was still there. “Well,” he smiled, “That’s a new addition,”

They stood there for a moment, poster and chunk of fabric forgotten on the floor behind them, there was simply something better now. It was a nice moment, a drowned and his ghost friend standing on the edge of everything they could ever want, but it was so far away, how would they get to it? He started at the thought, was that what he wanted to do? Abandon the life he had found here in favor of chasing what might be a lie? It only took a few moments of thinking for him to determine that if he were to leave this station, he would be bringing Ghostbur with him, like it or not. …but how would he do that?

“What are you thinking about?” Ghostbur asked, his voice still full of disbelief and joy, despite the genuine question he had just asked.

“Home,” Jimmy said breathlessly, despite not turning back around to Ghostbur (He could not tear his eyes away this time.), he could hear his friend respond to the word. He didn’t speak or anything, but only gasped, probably recognising the far away island from the stories he had been told.

They stood there a bit longer, but this time was cut short when a loud sound rocked the station. Instantly, both men looked at each other and then the floor around them. Terror filled Jimmy’s heart as he snatched up his picture of Scott, Ghostbur instantly following in his footsteps and picking up his fabric piece. They had talked about what would happen if bad things happened to their land, but of course, with a loud noise, there were two main options they had thought up. One, a train pulling up to take them out of the station (or someone else in), or, worse really, the land itself crumbling, and well, judging by quickly spreading cracks in the floor, it was the latter.

“Ghostbur!” Jimmy shouted, his heart beating a million miles per hour, “Grab my hand!” His friend quickly reached out and did so. They locked eyes, fear coursing through both of them.

“I really hope this works,” Ghostbur whispered, and, as cracks formed below their feet, Jimmy nodded. He braced himself for just a moment, and only when a bit of the floor fell away did he jump back, back into the suffocating void of nothingness.

They floated in place for a moment, Ghostbur looking relieved when they didn’t instantly fall, but the hopeful expression was quickly gone when he realised that he couldn’t get air in. He looked at Jimmy panic spreading across his face as he clawed at his throat, the bit of blue fabric still clutched in between his fingers. Jimmy simply nodded, himself feeling the effect of the air deprivation, but he was so shocked with the feeling of being there, in true limbo, that he forgot to get them out.

Ghostbur seemed to realise that Jimmy was frozen but after a few moments of struggling against the inky darkness he realised he could not move them. Terror was on his face as the blue stuff began to soak his chest, he clawed at Jimmy, shaking him as best he could in the antigravity, which of course wasn’t that great. ...which didn’t matter all that much, because Solidarity thankfully remembered what was happening and began to struggle against the current of the void.

It was like he was drowning again, burning pain filling his body as he did everything in his power to keep his mouth shut. (Because if he didn’t it would just hurt more.) It had been… so long, since he had been here, that he had nearly forgotten how to maneuver in it, and thanks to Ghostbur’s extra weight, and the poster in his hands, it was even more difficult than it needed to be.

But still he struggled, fought against the weight, kicking his legs and hard as he could, willing himself to move, really anything that would work, and, eventually, they began to move. He hugged Ghostbur to his chest, trying to tell the poor ghost that they would get there soon, just to please, please hold on. They began to really move now, and he was hurtling through space again, the familiar feeling of panic amplified now that he had a friend to worry about, as far as he knew Ghostbur might not be able to survive this.

They moved along, Ghostbur’s body shaking as he lost every last bit of oxygen, trying to hold on just a bit longer-

They were almost there, one kick…

Two kicks.

Three kicks. Ghostbur fell limp.

Four kicks-

Solidarity tumbled to the ground, rolling through the grass and staying there. He inhaled so shakily and violently, one could have thought he was actually dying… erm, again. But after just a few seconds of regaining sensation in his limbs, he forced himself to sit up, turning to Ghostbur’s body lying still in the flowers.

“What-!” he heard a familiar voice from behind him, and then running footsteps, but he couldn’t turn to Scott and tell him how much he missed him yet, no, he had to save his friend.

“Ghostbur!” He yelled, his voice gravely and broken, and he gasped as a bit of the dark sludge dripped out of it, splashing pathetically next to the poor ghost. He shook him, not paying attention to Scott’s fraintic gasp and questions as Solidarity tried to wake his friend up.

“Please just… just be alive!” he inhaled sharply and pressed onto Ghostbur’s chest, hoping that the movement would dislodge some of the ink.

Ghostbur coughed and sat up, narrowly avoiding Jimmy’s forehead on the way. He was shaking violently, shivering and gasping for air as blackness poured from his mouth only resting as it mixed with the blue soaking his body.

“Oh my go-” Scott cut himself off, running forwards and pushing Jimmy out of the way to properly reach the injured ghost. As his husband lay in the grass, Scott began to ask Ghostbur questions. Things like, “How are you here?!”, “What happened to your sweatshirt?”, and most importantly, “Are you okay?”

He wanted to ask Scott why he wasn’t asking him if he was okay, but Jimmy knew this was important, so he stayed right where he was, staring at the sky, which was somehow blue again.

Any worry he had evaporated when Ghostbur spoke, his voice still as echoey as ever, despite the clear lack of a station around them. “I’m okay,” he said shakily, before turning to look at Jimmy, and obviously worried, he asked, “Mr. Solidarity, are you okay?”

Jimmy nodded, feeling tears drip down the sides of his face as he did, “Yeah I’m okay Ghostbur,” he slowly sat up, and, looking at his husband and his friend, he realised he never wanted this moment to end, “I’m just alright,”

-- - - - -

It had been a few weeks since they had arrived here, and Jimmy had no way to explain to himself quite how much he had missed the sun and the real stars. It was really home, beautifully decorated and exactly what they had always wanted it to be, with the uh, small addition of a little ghost friend. Apparently, Scott and WIlbur had known each other (who Wilbur was Jimmy didn’t know) and because of that bond, Scott and Ghostbur got along quite well. And of course Ghostbur and Jimmy had become great friends over the course of their existence at the train station.

Another thing Jimmy hadn’t known he would miss was real water, and the ability to get out of it when it felt icky. The first time he had gone swimming he was hesitant to get in the lake, explaining that he just didn’t trust himself in it, he would find a way to forget where he was and drown he was sure. And so Scott had gone swimming without him. (Ghostbur stating rather plainly that water burned him, and then heading off to go pick some of the flowers that scattered the grass.) But after a bit of watching Scott splash around, still in his full normal outfit, Jimmy decided that it would be fun.

When Ghostbur returned he found the two flower husbands happily sitting in the water and talking to each other. He had waited there for a moment apparently, unseen and listening to his two friends talk about random things, but had soon grown bored and told them he was there. (Which jumpscared Scott so hard he nearly flew out of the pool.) Jimmy and Ghostbur found this very funny, and decided that it was a point in any future prank war that would start.

...and start it did.

In just a month back in his home, Jimmy had decided to initiate a proper prank war, telling Ghostbur before he told Scott of course, they had gotten a lot of ideas back when it was just the two of them. … So of course they had to be a team against Scott. Everyone found it funny, and everyone found it especially funny when Scott managed to win despite being outnumbered by 50% or something.

Of course, like in all things, it was not perfect, (Every relationship, whether it be friendly or something more, argues from time to time.) but it was pretty darn close. Ghostbur had come up with the idea that when someone wanted to apologize, they would go and get the pufferfish of peace and bring it to whoever they had been arguing with. (It was working shockingly well so far, and made a use for an item that would have otherwise brought bad memories.)

Once, Ghostbur fell into the lake, but he was so quickly saved that he promised them it didn’t hurt at all. Of course they still made sure he stayed far away from the water for a long while after that. (Not because they didn’t trust him, but because they were worried for him.) After they became more relaxed on it however, Ghostbur told them, through laughter’s tears, that he had really quite liked the rule because, “Sometimes the side of things are slippery,”

And that was how they were brought to this moment, two months into being out of that awful void, sitting next to each other and watching the sunset, pure blue flower crowns rested upon their heads (Ghostbur made them.) and a pretty roof built over them… (Scott made it.) It was them that Jimmy realized, he was glad to be on the edge of the universe with these two.

#fanfic #my writing #long post if you click keep reading #i mean it #ghostbur #tw: suffocation #tw: shipping #but it's between two canonically married characters #tw: death #smajor #solidarirtygaming #3rd life smp #dsmp #mcyt #actual post #my art #drowned!jimmy

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Harry suggests they watch Fifty Shades of Grey together

(a blurb from the Flatmate Series / pre-relationship)

Word count: 2.6k

Warning: heavy sexual tension and mention of smut, but also a lot of fluff.

Yes, I had to rewatch the film and fast-forward to the sex scenes to write in such details lmao. This is my favourite flatmate blurb at the moment 😂

“Let’s watch Fifty Shades of Grey tonight.”

Y/N widened her eyes at Harry. She thought he was joking, but as he entered the title onto Netflix, she snatched the remote from his hand immediately.

“It’s my turn to pick the movie,” she said, making him scoff.

“No, it’s my turn. You picked the movie for two weeks in a row because last week I couldn’t decide between Coraline and Corpse Bride, remember?”

Y/N huffed as she gave the remote back to him. She wasn’t into the idea at all, but she was curious to know why he insisted on picking this one and not one of those ‘everyone’s favourite’ movies that he would normally pick.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this movie about sex?” Y/N muttered as her cheeks turned pink. Fortunately, her flatmate was looking at the screen.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s not like porn though. Don’t worry.”

“Have you watched it before?”

“No, but everyone says it’s bad.”

“Then why do you wanna watch it? Let’s put on something good! Something with Timothée Chalamet!”

“I’m tired of Timothée Chalamet!”

“No one is tired of Timothée Chalamet! You suck!”

Harry stopped before he was about to press play and turned to her, raising his eyebrows. “Well, you can watch your Timmy when you’re alone. Tonight we’re watching this terrible movie for a change. It’s gonna be fun.”

Y/N tossed her head back as she groaned. “You’re making me watch this because I said no to watching porn with you!”

“Not true! Don’t disrespect porn like that!” He scoffed. “Porn makes you horny, this will be like a nice little comedy. I mean, the books are shit on paper, this should be worse.”

“You’ve read the books?”

“I’ve read one chapter. I was a curious horny teenager, don’t judge me.”

“All right then.” She sighed and let him press play. “If it gets weird, we’re turning it off.”

The movie turned out to be more entertaining than they had expected, especially when they had unintentionally started a competition to see who could point out more mistakes. Harry was definitely winning, but Y/N didn’t mind. She was in hysterics as he kept throwing in random comments about every single scene.

“Why does she keep biting her lip? What’s wrong with her lip?”

“Did he fucking track her phone?! This guy’s a stalker!”

“Never get too drunk when you go out, Y/N. I don’t want you to end up in some creep’s...sex dungeon!”

But when came the first sex scene, Harry was as quiet as a mouse. He had expected it to be ridiculously unrealistic like the whole idea of the story, but this scene was actually kind of...hot?

Y/N didn’t even notice his sudden silence. Her eyes were fixed on the screen and he had to steal a glance at her when Christian laid a naked Ana down on the bed and started eating her out.

Y/N was nibbling on her lip. Even though she didn’t show much from her facial expression, seeing the way she switched to a different sitting position with her legs crossed, Harry assumed the scene was doing something to her too. For some reason, watching two characters fucking turned him on less than watching his flatmate squirming because of it.

He assumed this would have been fun to watch with his friends, but was definitely a terrible choice for a movie night with his crush. Now he couldn’t help but imagine himself making love to her like that. It must have been a long time since she slept with someone. If only he could show her what she’d been missing and made her feel so good she wouldn’t wish to be with anyone else. Even that stupid actor Timothée Chalamet.

“That was...something.” Y/N released a sharp breath once the scene was over and turned to smile at Harry.

He smiled back, wanting to throw in a joke to clear the tension but his mind was completely blank at this point. They were only forty-five minutes in. He wasn’t sure if he could get through two hours without at least an erection. God, he was so fucking screwed.

“She’s got a nice little butt,” Y/N said as the actress stood fully naked with her back to the mirror. He supposed she wanted to make this less awkward for them, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about her butt.

“You’ve got a nice butt too.” He nudged her with his shoulder and she slapped him on the arm.

“You’ve never seen my butt!” Then her mouth fell open. “Have you?!”

“No! It was just a guess!” I wish I had though, he thought as Y/N pushed his face away and looked back at the screen.

The next sex scene came right after. Harry almost cursed out loud when Christian tied Ana’s wrists together with a tie, thank God the mum showed up and interrupted the couple before they fucked again. Y/N burst out laughing, and he did too, but out of relief.

He prayed his dick would just stay calm until the credits started rolling. If only it wasn’t so fucking sensitive! Look what you’ve done to yourself, dumbass. You should’ve gone with Timothée Chalamet.

“Who wrote these dialogues? Oh my god!” Y/N giggled as the characters started talking again.

“If you agree to do this, you’re gonna want your own room.”

“Why? Because I’ll be your sex slave?”

“Take me as your sex slave, Christian. I want a bigger room!” Harry joked, making Y/N guffaw as she put her head on his shoulder.

Harry’s laughter died down as his limbs went stiff. He didn’t want to move, afraid that she might pull away and he might never have another moment like this.

“Which one is yours?” Ana asked as she and Christian walked into his garage.

“All of them,” the guy answered, making Harry cackle.

“That’s gonna be me one day,” he said and nodded his head towards the screen. “I’m gonna be a sexy boss who owns ten expensive cars and a place like that. Minus the sex dungeon, of course.”

“I could see you having a sex dungeon though.”

“I already have one.” He turned around and pointed to his bedroom. “Wanna see it after the movie?”

The joke got him a smack on the leg as Y/N shot him a glare. “Anyway,” she breathed. “If you’re gonna be that rich, at least give me a ride in one of your expensive cars.”

“Would I still be hanging out with you then?” He playfully arched an eyebrow, making her laugh softly.

“Oh, you would beg to hang out with me,” she said with her head still on his shoulder. At this point, neither of them was paying attention to the movie.

“Wanna hear how I imagine our future?”

Harry pursed his lips as he gave a nod. “Sure, tell me.”

“Okay.” She jolted right up and turned to face him, putting her elbow on the backrest and her head against her knuckles. “It’s ten years from now, yeah? Say you’re a CEO living in a big mansion. You’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted, but you are so lonely because you don’t wanna fall in love and settle down.”

Harry rolled his eyes, laughing slightly as she gripped his shoulder to make sure he was still listening.

“One day, while walking around your rose garden, you start thinking about the good old days when you were in college and shared a flat with a lovely girl. Oh, where is she now? you wonder. So you hire a spy to look for me and find out I’m living in the suburbs with a husband, two kids and a puppy...or a cat.”

“Boringggg.”

“Shut up!”

“Do go on though. What happens next?” he asked, putting his hand on her knee.

Smiling, she went on, “you decide to come visit me on a beautiful Sunday. I open the door and I’m so surprised to see you. ‘Hey, do you remember the night we decided to watch that awful sex movie,’ asks lonely thirty-year-old Harry. ‘How could I forget? I’ve been having nightmares since,’ says beautiful married Y/N.”

Harry tossed his head back and laughed as Y/N tried to hold it in so she could finish her story.

“Then you say to me, ‘that night, you told me to give you a ride in one of my expensive cars if I ever got rich. So would you like to go somewhere with me on this fine Sunday morning?’ , ‘Oh, I really want to,’ I say to you, ‘but my husband would be jealous so I have to turn you down.’ Then we say goodbye and I close the door, leaving you standing outside for a long moment. You walk back to your expensive car as it starts raining, and suddenly, you feel sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yeah. Because you have finally realised that, you’ve been in love with me this whole time!” Y/N exclaimed as she grabbed his shoulders. “Unfortunately, it’s already too late because I’m now happy with my husband, two children, and a dog...or a cat. The end!”

When Harry said nothing, she lightly elbowed him. He looked down as she looked up, her cheek pressing against his shoulder as she gave him a pout. “No applause?”

“Your story sucks,” he said, smirking as she puckered up her lips and turned back to the TV.

“Oh no, we forgot to pause!” she said.

“Well, we already know what’s gonna happen so I don’t think we’ve missed much.”

“You’re probably right.”

As she continued watching the movie, he was watching her. Thanks to her stupid story, now he had to worry about his future ten years from now. How could he compete with her husband, two children and a dog, or a cat?! And the nice vision with ten cars and the big mansion didn’t sound so nice anymore since he knew for sure she wouldn’t be in it. His heart already broke for thirty-year-old Harry.

Maybe he would stay up all night to blame himself for what was yet to happen. But now he had a bigger problem to deal with.

As they reached the final sex scene, Harry was embarrassingly and painfully hard. Thank God for the pillow that sat conveniently right beside him. He put it on his lap to hide his hardon while already thinking about jerking off in the shower once this movie had ended.

He reluctantly checked on Y/N. She was sitting so still, but he could see right through her neutral expression that she desperately wanted to touch herself. After a moment, she started rubbing her thighs together, and Harry’s jaw went slack as he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Fuck, this is better than porn. I’m going to hell, he thought while stroking his thigh with one hand, the other still resting on her leg.

He wasn’t sure if he was so horny his mind was playing tricks on him or her skin was really burning under her pyjamas. He could feel it, and now he was too awkward to remove his hand from her leg. He kept watching her face as the moaning and the music from the movie turned his face scarlet. When she pressed her lips together, he couldn’t help it anymore.

“To be honest,” he spoke with a voice full of breath, “I’ve always wondered if this was the kind of content you’d masturbate to, since...since you don’t watch porn.”

Y/N swallowed hard but she didn’t seem offended at all. Her eyelids fluttered as she gave him a bashful smile. “I...do watch porn.”

“Oh?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yeah, I’ve just...never had an orgasm by myself…”

Holy shit. Harry’s mouth fell open as he gripped his knee. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious? Shit, was he being too obvious?

He swallowed hard, fixing the pillow on his lap and slightly grinding his hips against it to get some friction on his crotch area. His head fell back to the backrest of the couch as Y/N pulled away and did the same. They were looking at each other, their faces so close Harry couldn’t focus on anything else.

Half of him wanted to excuse himself and went to the bathroom to jerk off, the other half wanted to stay and finish the movie with her. This was the most intimate moment they had ever shared and he certainly couldn’t let it go to waste.

“You okay?” she asked and he gave a nod, licking his lip.

“Not gonna lie, these sex scenes got me quite worked up.”

“Oh…” Y/N chewed on the corner of her mouth as she shifted around a bit. “Um...are you…you know...”

“No, am I what?” He smirked. Of course he knew what her question would be. He was a bit embarrassed that she could already tell from looking at his face, still he had to hear her say it.

“Y-You…” she stuttered, “you know what.”

“No, Y/N, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and with a bit of hesitation, pointed to his lap. “That.”

“That? What’s that?” He sounded amused. “I don’t get it. Care to elaborate?”

“Forget it.” She waved him off. But did she really think he would let her get away with this?

“You want to know if I’m hard?”

The question made Y/N groan as she buried her face into her palms. She didn’t deny or confirm it, but he already knew he was right.

“You’re wet, aren’t you?”

“Stop!”

“Y/N.”

“What?” She huffed as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hands away from her face. She gave him only one quick glance before looking back at the screen, but he knew she was too flustered to continue watching.

“Promise me you’ll try tonight,” he blurted, unsure why he’d said it, but he didn’t regret it for the look on her face was priceless.

“Try what?”

“Make yourself come.”

Y/N gripped the hem of her shirt, her eyes went round. “Stop messing with me. It’s not funny anymore!”

“I’m serious. Promise me you’ll try,” his voice was low and heavy as if he was out of breath. “Don’t think too much. Just...get yourself wet and feel it out, love. You should know your body better than anyone, right?”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, which made Harry think he might have crossed the line and she would definitely get mad at him. But then she shifted her eyes to her lap and finally gave a nod.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she softly confirmed. That one word alone could make him bust his nuts right on that couch. He was glad it didn’t happen, still, he wished he could tell her what she was doing to him.

As soon as the credits started to scroll, Y/N turned off the TV, wished him goodnight and fled straight to her room like a scared little deer.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief. He got up, turned the lights off and hurried to the shower to take care of his big problem. He didn’t know if she kept her promise and touched herself before going to bed, but he assumed that she did, and came so hard to those filthy thoughts that his legs felt like jelly once it was over.

As he rested his forehead against the shower wall and let the warm water run down his back, he shut his eyes and told himself to stick to PG movies from now on.

#flatmate!harry #flatmate blurbs #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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rughydrangea · 2 years

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I watched Dune (on my computer because I refuse to pay for something I can get for free! And that’s even without factoring in having to go to an enclosed public space to see it). I have to talk about it. Spoilers ahoy.

The first and possibly most important thing is that the score of this movie is horrifically bad. When it’s just generic zwomps it’s fine, but every time Zimmer breaks out a wailing lady (which he loves to do), the effect is so hammy and hacky that any possible real emotion that could have been taken from the scene is destroyed. And the bagpipes are just funny, I truly laughed every time they showed up (to be fair it was like twice, but both scenes were quite solemn!). This is not quite movie-ruining stuff, but it’s close.

For the other technical aspects, I have no notes, it looks great! I totally get why seeing it on the big screen is the ideal, I bet it’s incredible, but I’m lazy, I’m sorry!

Okay, so, the plot/characters. I reread Dune very recently because I hadn’t read it since I was in middle school, probably, and my main memories from that were that I found it boring and dense. This time around, I didn’t find it boring, but it was a really weird experience, because I found Paul an utterly uncompelling hero, and the reason why kind of gets to the heart of my problem with the book, which is that this book should be about Jessica. The problem isn’t actually that we don’t get enough Jessica--she’s all over the book, she’s a POV character for huge chunks of it, we see so much of the world and the characters through her eyes. You could argue that she’s a co-lead with Paul. But I can’t get over the fact that even though Jessica is someone who has forged her own path, who used her training for her own purposes and followed her own conscience in the face of this huge eugenics conspiracy that she was born into, she is still ultimately just the mother of the boy the eugenics experiment was building towards. And Paul’s status as a boy is so key, he has the ability to see the masculine and feminine Bene Gesserit lineages or whatever, which is apparently impossible for women no matter how good their training or how powerful they are. It just makes no sense to me! And the Bene Gesserit as a whole is so weird to me, I love a witch organization, it’s a staple of SFF, but I simply cannot get on board with witches with mind powers whose entire purpose in life is to produce specific babies. I hate it so much, the equating of women and wombs is so gross and retrograde and insulting. And it takes this character who I found genuinely interesting and basically shoves her aside for the male product of her womb! It sucks!

And Paul is... not great. There’s just not a lot there. He’s very special but apparently his personality had to be removed to fit in the extra specialness. To be fair, Timmy does a great job at making him feel young and vulnerable and uncertain (which he isn’t really in the book), which makes him compelling (though the part where he yells at his mum for making him a freak is kind of silly)! But it also makes moments like the one where he announces his plan to bargain for the throne by marrying one of the emperor’s daughters feel like it came completely out of nowhere. At no point in the movie that we’ve seen till then are we given any indication that his mind works that way. And his visions are not very clearly presented in the film, so it’s tough to see exactly what’s going on with him and how radically his mind has been opened.

However, I did really like the way he played the moment where Paul first suggests to Liet-Kynes that he is the Fremen savior; it feels like he’s really deliberately choosing a path that could save/benefit him. In the book, Paul knows the messiah myth is bullshit but he also knows he’s very special, so he never really feels like a fraud in such a blatant way, but Timmy plays it as a guy who knows he’s lying, which I thought was very cool, and I am excited to see how that plays out in the sequel.

Other random scattered thoughts:

Most of my other complaints boil down to it not being slow enough. I really think this should have been a miniseries. The build-up to the Harkonnen raid doesn’t work because it’s as though it happens a week after they land on Arrakis. I wanted more time to breathe and soak in the world.

It’s weird that Charlotte Rampling calls Jessica Leto’s wife, when she’s not, and then even weirder that Leto has a tossed-off line about how he should have married her. Either properly establish that she’s a concubine, or don’t send mixed signals! (I do find it so wild, and typical of Herbert’s fucked gender politics, that the last line of the book is Jessica assuring Chani that history will remember the concubines as wives! (Sidenote: I found Chani to be a terrible character and the prospect of her coming to prominence is one thing I’m not looking forward to in the sequel. Sorry, Zendaya!))

Stellan Skarsgard was having fun, but nothing can wash away how much I hate the fact that the primary villain of the book is a catastrophically obese pederast. It’s two prejudices for the price of one! (Though to be fair there is no pederasty in the movie.)

I love seeing my girl Rebecca Ferguson being so prominent, and she was really good, but I think Momoa stole the movie for me? Too bad they don’t resurrect Duncan until the next book! (Even though I didn’t care for the book, I’m strongly considering reading the sequel, I’m so curious about where it goes!)

So, yeah. I didn’t love it, but I enjoyed watching it and will be happy to see the sequel. But also I wish it had been better. Complicated feelings all round.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #(leave me alone anon!)#dune #my commentary

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iphoenixrising · 4 years

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I did not expect people to want more of the thing *shrugs*

Thank-you for the comments on my assholery with cliff hangers @txbookeater, I love you too babe <3. So much love to electra-iphigenie, emjalen, ships-lover, and @chibinightowl for talking up that post. Based on this thing. Warning for triggering themes. Be aware of good boyfriending, kink negotiations, and mentions of past sexual assault.

Proceed at your own risk

He takes in a breath, blank for a second, his brain catching up. “Could it possibly be in the bathroom before I get in a nice, hot shower? Followed by a few hours of unconsciousness? That would be really amazing right about now.”

Deflection is an art form, and he really is a master. He shrugs off his bag, gives him an opportunity to turn away, aware of eyes and how he’s dragging ass, feeling off and irritable. His brain doesn’t have to keep moving from one thing to the next, and things are slowing down. A shudder runs like cold fingers down his spine.

“I think I’d rather ya do it right here, Tim,” and there’s no Sweets, Baby, or any other endearments to make this easier on him. Nope.

(It’s fine. Breathe. Just some bruises. They’ve seen worse, had worse. They’re all adults here.)

“Jay, I am tired–” “You’re looking shaky, a little strung out.” Dick, at least, makes it gentle. “And I saw it already, so we both know. I’d rather see the damage without your shirt in the way.” “Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout why ya didn’t tell us right away.” “Mmhm, we might need to have another talk about the rules when we play.” “You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he argues gently, rubbing his hands and wrists because his fingers are tingling. “We had a play date, and by the time I was getting...you know, sore, I was already at work, you were on patrol–” “You didn’t say a word about it to me,” Dick cuts in, “and you absolutely should have. Now, I’m wondering if you really do know your limits, and if I can trust you enough to stop us when you need to.” “I...I didn’t–” yes. Yes I did.

It’s as simple as breathing in too sharply, his ears suddenly ringing, and there’s rubber in his mouth, his teeth probably cutting into it, and it hurts. Normally, he’s okay with rough and multiple rounds, loves how they get when they need control, to feel like there’s something in their hands that can’t just be taken away.

He gets it. Loves that their go-to outlet for it...is him.

Even if he can’t come again, it still usually feels amazing, and crazy in his brain because they want him this much. Really, he loves them.

(The bell clenched in his fist is making an indent in his palm. His chest constricts, just like last time, but he can at least gasp through the holes in the gag. So he doesn’t need to drop it. He wants to. It hurts and he wants to, but he doesn’t. He can take it. He’s had worse. This is for them.)

Neither of them noticed it had gone from amazing to uncomfortable to painful, and he didn’t drop the bell. He didn’t tell them to stop, so really, it’s on him isn’t it?

Bile rushes up his throat, bringing him back to the very real present where Dick and Jay are suddenly really close, and he realizes he’s just sitting in Dick’s lap, shaking like a leaf.

His face is wet, his chest hitching.

He doesn’t puke, so that is about a million points.

But, he is absolutely falling the utter fuck apart and that just isn’t conducive to his attempt at coming home to snuggle and pass out in blissful unconsciousness.

(This is his life. Seriously.)

“Shit, shit, shit,” the first attempt to move is right out the window because he’s on octopus hold lockdown.

(On one hand it feels nice to be held. On the other, he can’t escape and it feels restrictive, stifling, terrifying.)

“Hey, hey, Baby. Lookey here. That’s it, that’s good.” Jay is rubbing palms up and down the top of his calves, up to his knees and down to his ankles. He’s talking low and gentle. “I’m going ta the kitchen, n’ getcha some water. Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout what’s doing, you feel me? If me and Dickie are gonna be able ta take care a’ ya, then we gotta know what’s in yer head.”

He’s breathing too hard, too fast, his hearing spotty at best.

“Ssshhh. You’re having a panic attack, Timmy. You’re hyperventilating, so I need for you to calm down now, okay?”

Then Dick’s chest is under his tingling fingers, and the exaggerated breathing helps him slow it down, take back some of the control over his body.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out or puke, so the day is looking up.

The absurdity of that thought it the thing that really makes him laugh, the sound hoarse, choked.

“Okay, okay, you’re doing good, Timmy, just stay with me,” and he didn’t notice when Dick started rocking back-and-forth in a soothing motion, or when Jay got back and slid a hand around the nape of his neck.

He’s still shaky as fuck, curled up against Dick’s warmth, and fuck is he cold and wrung out. It feels like a high fever, joints achy, brain foggy, reaction time slow.

“...it’s a fucking drop, Dick. Look at ‘im!” “I’ve never heard of a delayed response like this.” “Knew we shoulda waiting ta scene. He went right from bed ta the pressure cooker, Dick.” “I should have picked up on it when I went to see him.” “S’all right, least we know what ta do now,” and Jay bends, pulls and lifts him like he isn’t a full grown man, pulling him in tight. “Need ta getcha all warm n’ snuggled, don’t we, Baby?”

Dick is throwing back the covers, but Tim doesn’t want to get in bed, not smelling like antiseptic and and bleach, but being warm, being able to hide his face in the pillow is really appealing.

He nods in Jay’s shoulder and lets just the scrub top be pulled off, leaving him in the nerd shirt underneath. He’s glad for it, already vulnerable, cold, shaky.

A straw to his mouth from no where and water before hands are helping him scoot over gingerly in the middle before flopping down on his good side with two warm vigilantes like bookends. Gentle circles on his back while Dick snakes an arm under his head, pulls him closer.

“All right, that’s better.”

That hand hits a tender spot, and the flinch is automatic. “Sorry, Timmy. Once yer all warm, we’ll lookit how bad, yeah? Gonna lemme see, and it’s gonna be all right. S’ just me n’ Dickie.”

It’s awful because the two wrapped around him is fucking close to perfect and he isn’t feeling as shitty as he was at the ominous picture they made when he first walked in, and yeah, yeah, maybe it was stupid to try hiding it from them. He’s fuzzy about it, but he’s pretty sure that’s a rule somewhere in the Do’s and Don’ts for Playtime talk.

He probably going to get a lecture. Possibly two.

“Sorry,” he finally says, voice stronger because his throat doesn’t feel like raw hamburger anymore. “I...that wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know why it was bad, but I’m s–”

“The only thing that would make me angry right now is if you apologize again,” Dick follows it up with scritches to take the sting out of it. “Something triggered you to have a severe drop, Timmy, and if you could tell us what happened, it would help us to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can you understand that? We need to know so we don’t accidentally hurt you?”

He goes still and his chest hurts just a little.

“I...I should have safeworded out,” it hurts to say, “I sh-should have dropped it, but I thought I could take it, and then things got weird and my brain just, and I thought if I did it would be weak and-and you didn’t need that, and I-I just. I’m sore and it hurt and I didn’t– it’s my fault, okay. I should have because I know that’s a rule somewhere.”

and he keeps babbling on, rambling with his eyes getting hot and his vigilante boyfriends petting him, rocking with him, letting everything just pour out of him without stopping him or pulling away, just–

Dealing with his special brand of insanity. (Those darn abandonment issues. Golly, some day he won’t feel like his chest is being ripped open viciously with fear they’re going to walk the fuck out of his life and never come back.)

He’s finally talked out, feeling like ass about fucking up their morning.

“Your color is coming back, that’s good.” “Warmed all up, Dickie. Time ta tell it like it is.” Well. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” and he blinks up out of Dick’s chest with his eyes still puffy and his side tender, those blue eyes dark with something hard to interpret.

“I’m not happy you didn’t tell us immediately because we agreed to communicate about these things. D&S can be scarring, and this is just an example of how people get hurt.”

“And I’m going to say this now so you understand how important it is. About the fact you didn’t safeword.” Dick’s chest expands, hitches, “You need to know, you’re not only protecting yourself when you do, but you’re protecting us, too.”

“I don’t–”

“Tim. I’ve been sexually assaulted several times, and you know that. So... knowing I hurt you that way makes me sick inside, okay. Can you– can you understand that?”

“I-I fuck, Dick, I’m–” “Please don’t say it. No more sorries. But, it’s important you understand Jay and I have our own traumas, so if you, not us, want to keep trying this, we have to navigate more carefully.”

Behind him, Jay’s forehead is nestled in the dip at the base of his neck, and a hard breath whistles down the back of his shirt.

He despairs inside at how Dick and Jay must be feeling, how bad it looked to them that Tim hadn’t come clean, hadn’t safeworded at all. “I fucked up. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Dick presses a gentle kiss in his hair, and Jay nuzzles against his throat.

He gets more sips of water and eventually a panini and soup. There’s more cuddles and warmth, more talk that sucks the breath out of them all.

His head wraps around the rules differently this time, taking careful note of the way Dick’s expression gets shuddered and Jay goes still. He assures them he still does want playtime sometimes, shoots down the notion he’s only doing it for them, tells them that when his brain is too full and he needs to give up control, he doesn’t want to do it with anyone else but them.

He realizes it’s because somewhere, he knows they’ll take care of him...if he lets them.

Then his shirt comes off so the deep bruises can have Alfred’s magical concoction spread over. His cheeks are pink when he’s laid out on his stomach with the scrub pants tossed off the bed. Soft praise while he’s spread open by gentle hands to make sure he’s not torn. Bruised and sore yeah, but nothing too awful. He gets a pair of Dick’s cut-off sweatpants that still hit him below the knee and one of Jay’s shirts that he practically swims in, but he feels about a million times better just wearing their clothes.

And when they’re careful with him for the next few days, when love making is tender and slow, when touches are easy with his bruises in mind, when everything is verbal and consent is crucial, he make more of an effort to stomp down the urges to push his limits, push himself. He stomps down on those stupid recriminations and uncertainties, tries to remember that these two could be literally anywhere else in the world, and yet, here they are at his side.

He gets to have vigilantes bleeding on his fire escape, and the men under the mask in his bed, in his shower, in his kitchen, in his life.

The next scene he yellows, gets a much needed pause before they continue, and the aftercare is truly a thing of beauty.

#safewording out #dickjaytim #dr!tim #continued ask #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #my fic #my drab #warnings for triggering theme #submissive!tim drake #save this boy #winter rambles

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abloomntime · 3 years

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A Bloom In Time Ch35(end)

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to GearsForBreakfast for creating such wonder characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story. )

Ah. Cupid's Day. The day everyone expressed their love to one another whether it be platonic love among friends and family, or for lovers to have a nice relaxing day out on a date with their spouses. Usually Snatcher would absolutely despise this day because of the implications of love to him was even more exhausting than usual. Yes, he'd tolerate the kiddos giving him small trinkets or pictures he'd hang on the fridge or on the walls of his tree home, but very evilly and totally not because he actually liked them ok! It was on this day he had a very special surprise planned out for a certain red haired fireball of a woman. All he had to do was wait for the right time to show her is all.....

Which was easier said than done.

The first thing that happened when the day started was him getting bombarded by Hattie and Bow rushing in and shoving cutesy pictures and hearts in his face with big smiles on their faces. Of course being the most evil of evil rulers he was, made a big groaning scene about it before taking them, reluctantly of course, and very VERY menacingly hanging them onto the wall above them to show everyone how evil he was by keeping something so mushy around him and showing he didn't care. Of course he hadn't spent all month hurrying his minions into working faster to put the last finishing touches on his very evil surprise for Poppy just to have it spoiled by these two, so to distract them all he gave them some of that mail Poppy had insisted he'd take to give to all the minions and dwellers running around. That should keep the two of them busy and running around for a good while before they went back to that ship! Good thing they didn't bring Poppy with them into the forest. He wasn't sure how'd he be able to get her distracted enough to finish his work....That didn't apply to a certain witch though when he paused when he saw Hazelle pop up.

Snatcher frowned. "What are YOU doing here?"

Hazelle smiled having a cute home made card in her hand. "Can't a friend visit a friend, Snatchy? And truth be told I came here to see how you were doing after the whole incident was over."

He huffed and turned away. "I'm fine. Just....working on something before the end of the day's over."

Hazelle nodded looking over the cards in her hands. "That makes sense. If that's all then I'll be hopping over to Moonjumper now."

Snatcher snapped his head back around to her. "WHAT?!"

"Calm down. I promised the girls I'd give him the Cupid's Day card they made for him and drop off Timmy for their sleep over."

"WHAT?!," he demanded again narrowing his eyes at her and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Snatcher, he was grounded for a long time and he's just a kid. He didn't know any better. One sleep over with his friends isn't going to hurt Poppy or you. Get over it."

Snatcher grumbled under his breath but didn't comment anything else when she tucked the cards away. "Well I'm off. But if you want to see me again, I'll be dropping Timmy off later at the ship."

Snatcher didn't say anything as Hazelle teleported away and he turned back towards his destination. He had work to get done and a limited time to do it in. The day went by realtively normally and fast, the girls came back a little while later with enough leftover mail to give the minions for Winter Solstice gifts. So he dissmissed them and off they ran. He guessed to go back to the ship and telescope jump around the planet to deliver more of those home made scribbled cards to those birds and cat. Whatever. It'd keep them out of his hair at least for a long while. It certainly took a lot longer than he suspected to get done, but when the last mushroom was replanted, and the last minion patted the dirt in the right place he nodded. It was ready. Of course living in a dark forest, he couldn't tell how late or early it was in the day, nor could he from space, so when he teleported himself to the kid's ship he was a little surprised to find not only Timmy there but the weird blonde girl that once upon a time made an alternate reality to get rid of all bad guys.....So naturally he frowned seeing the two of them huddled in the living room watching TV on top of a bunch of pillows with Bow and Hattie. Mustache Girl...Was that her name gave him a frown back and Timmy looked slightly nervous seeing the spook there. He also guessed he just must've missed Hazelle dropping him off because he was standing in front of Poppy holding a pretty shining flower in a small pot in one hand and a red scarf in another. Poppy was already holding a small cactus like the one you'd find in gift shops and a basket that smelled of delicious food. She smiled upon seeing Snatcher.

"Ah was wonderin' when you'd show up!," she greeted.

"Uh yeah. What do you have there?," he asked gesturing to her the objects in her hands.

"Oh these?" She held them up. "Cookie stopped by and asked if Mu could join the lil get together for the night. Somethin' bout her n' that loud mouth bird havin' dinner ah think. So I said I'd watcher her too! She was nice enough to give us some more food and this cute lil guy!" She smiled at the small cactus. "Ah never tried growin' a cactus before so it'll be a real fun experience." She called Bow to come over to take the basket of food from her and intrusted her to put it away then turned back to Timmy. "Watchin' him too! Now ya'll said ya wanted ta tell me somethin'?"

Timmy gulped and nodded. "Y-Yes, ma'am. I uh-...W-Wanted to apologize for what happened. I'm r-really, really sorry." He held up the shining Twilight Flower. "I got you this straight from the Alpine Alps. Hazelle helped me pick it out, yeah."

Poppy regarded him for a moment, before smiling and shifting her cactus into her other hand, reached down to pick up the decent sized bright flower from him. "Now ain't that sweet? Now ah got two plants I never had before! ....Apology accepted."

Ah. She always did like kids. So of course she would forgive Timmy easily. She blinked again when he also held up the neatly knitted red scarf. "Moonjumper asked me to tell you that's he's sorry too, and that he hopes you'll forgive him so you all can maybe be friends. He made this for you."

Poppy blinked at the scarf, but before she could even respond a dark arm shot out and snatched the red scarf right out of the boy's hand and up to the scowling face of Snatcher as the yellow orbs laserfocused on it. "I'll be the judge of that.." For the next few minutes Snatcher spent looking throughly at the red scarf, as if sensing every fiber. Scanning it long ways and up and down, back and front, and tugged a few strands here and there. After a bit he looked back to Timmy with a supicious face.....and slowly held it out to Poppy. "I don't sense any magical hiddden energy in it. It's safe if you're going to accept it."

To his surprise Poppy did take it from him and looked at it for a moment, then to Timmy with a serious face. "When you go back ya tell him I accept his apolody and gift, but it's gonna take a while before I decide if I really forgive 'em." Timmy nodded and she nodded back. "Good now go play and behave with the others. I have something to talk with the purple onion for a minute."

As Timmy ran back over to the other children Snatcher raised a brow. "You have something to tell me?"

She nodded. "Yep. Hold these for a minute." She shoved the small plants into his hands and turned to walk off towards the door to the kitchen. She had a certain something to give Snatcher on this day. As a thank you for everything he's done for her, as you all might remember a certain gold skull that was found along with the other gold that Poppy and the girls found hidden in the attic. Well Poppy remembered Snatcher getting the girls those skulls in the attic as gifts and since this is Philip now, what better gift to get him than a golden skull? She wasn't sure if the skull was a real skull before that R.King turned it to gold with the gold potion but she didn't have enough time to think of any better gift when the girls suddenly left to go around handing out those home made cards they made to everyone without telling her. She should really stop sleeping in so late, but as she entered the kitchen she caught sight of it real quick. It was decided the golden skull would be the thing to be left behind and was hidden under Hattie's bed for safe keeping when they had left for Express Town a while ago, so she spent a good amount of time polishing it and cleaning it up until the golden skull gleamed at her, catching the reflection of the adorable picture the girls gave to her on the fridge. It was a messily but cute drawn picture of her and Snatcher holding hands, with the two of them holding either of their hands as well. Smiling, she held it behind her back and exited. Snatcher's face looked to the door as Poppy came back out smiling from ear to ear, one hand behind her back as she walked up to him. "Ah got somethin' for ya."

"Oh really?," he asked surprised, "You didn't have to. I had enough of this mushy love to last me for eternity."

She chuckled. "Well Cupid's Day is 'bout celebratin' the people ya care about right? That means good friends too." She finally brought it out and Snatcher's eyes instantly widened at seeing the shiny golden skull she held up to him. "So here's ta good friends. Happy Cupid's Day, Snatcher!"

Snatcher stopped and just stared at the shiny thing showing his relflection in it for a solid moment...before he took it into his free hand and stared at the beautiful gold skull with wide eyes. "It's......." He looked at her. "T-This is incredible. Where'd you get this?"

She bashfully shrugged. "I-It was in the attic when we found all the other gold. I was savin' it for an emergency but I thought I could use it for your gift instead. A-As a thanks fer everythin' ya did for me."

He still stared at her for a moment before a small yellow flush dusted his face and he cleared his throat. "W-Well it's very .....nice. Thank you I guess."

Poppy giggled. "Your welcome. It was the least ah could do."

Snatcher rubbed his thumb over the shiny gold for a moment, before looking back at her with a small smile. "Well....I happened to get you something too."

Poppy blinked in surprise at his words. "Wait. Really?"

He nodded. "Yep. But I can't show you here. You'll have to come back with me to my forest.''

Poppy looked a little skeptical at that and rose a brow. "Back to the forest? Ain't it too dangerous?"

"Not with the contract, and my minions know to not cause trouble." He smiled that usually smirk. "As long as Im in the forest you'll be fine. Besides you'll love it."

".....What 'bout them?," she asked nodding to the kids watching the tv.

"They'll be fine being along for a little while. Won't you?" The children either hummed or nodded not looking up from the funny penguin cartoon they were watching. "See? Sides. It's not like they weren't left alone before you came along for a while. C'mon. I swear you won't regret it."

Poppy still didn't look too convinced but in the end she agreed and so the children were made to PROMISE to stay there and behave while they were gone and they were teleported just as Poppy grabbed onto Snatcher's arm. The familiar purple came over here along with the weird feeling that came with it, before she looked up as the purple disappeared and soon found herself back in the familiar scene of the nightmarish forest. Poppy shivered at the sight of it all and all the minions or dwellers than happened to stand around stop and stare at her. Snather cleared his throat to catch her attention and he gestured for her to follow him up the pathway towards his tree home. Poppy rose a brow noticing he still had her plants in hand, but followed none the less. Snatcher flew right into his home, Rough Patch giving a lazy meow from the chair he laid on before yawning and turning the other way to sleep again. The golden skull was placed right on top of his shelf next to the sewing kit. He gave one last look over and smile before exiting the home and going outside and staying towards the left side of the home. Poppy was slowly walking her way forward blinking at him as he just floated there seemingly waiting for her to get closer. When she did, he smiled and silently pointed to the ground. Poppy blinked and looked to where he was pointing, eyes widening as she saw a small pathway of small bushes leading off somewhere into the woods. And soon enough Snatcher started floating down that way, giving one look back to her as her signal to follow before he disappeared between the trees. And of course, Poppy followed. Into the woods following along the bushes as she slowly took her time walking and walking......And walking. Slowly but surely, a few glowing mushrooms popped up here and there starting with the smaller mushrooms Hattie and Bow would use to bounce on before they became bigger. And bigger. And BIGGER until the bushes disappeared and there was nothing but lots and lots of beautiful glowing mushrooms everywhere. In all shapes and sizes and colors. She gaped at the beautiful glowing blues, greens, and reds of all the polka dotted fungi everywhere glowing in the moonlight and lighting up the place. There was a clear path between all of them replacing the one the plain bushes made and she continued down it still no sign of Snatcher anywhere either, not that she noticed. She was too busy admiring all the beautiful sights around her. Before the path took a corner and of course she followed it. And she stopped DEAD. A soft wind blew through the trees as multi colored petals blew towards her and to her feet a few purple, yellow, and red ones floating by her head. Her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped as the sight of what she was seeing hit her with the force of a meteor from space crashlanding into the dirt.

Snatcher finally popped up as he floated next to her gaping frozen self with a proud grin. "So. Do you like it?"

IT. WAS. ROSES!! RAINBOW ROSES!! All the colors of the rainbow sitting right there and multiple of them blooming beautifully in the moonlight. Some of the petals on the ground in a beautiful arrangement of color. Shimmering in the moonlight like a rainbow on stems. She still gaped at all of them and Snatcher only smiled prouder. Yes. After making that owl cough up the location of these wild roses (an oasis not surprisingly in a desert) and taking the ones in her shop for good measure too, Snatcher had a peck of a long time just gathering them and digging(having his minions carefully dig) them up by the roots and teleporting every single one of them back to his forest. But the extra work was worth the look on Poppy's face just now. Poppy still stood there stunned for a long moment. Before pointing and looking at him....then back at the roses gesturing with both arms then back to him again still totally amazed and shocked.

"HUH?!"

"What? I promised a garden and I delivered a pecking good garden! You got your regular bushes, mushrooms, a couple exploding apples, and even a nice flower section all of your own. Your welcome.~"

"HOW?!" She looked back at the beautiful batch of roses. "W-WHERE THE PECK DID YA EVEN GET THESE?!"

He shrugged. "Some small corner in the desert. Nothing too hard to find really. Do you like it?"

"YES!!" Her shocked face was replaced by a wide smile and sparkling eyes. "PECKIN' YES!! T-THIS IS INCREDIBLE!! I-......Ya never cease to out do yerself ya purple onion."

He shrugged again. "Well...you did give me a gold skull. I say we're pretty much even." He handed back the two small plants he'd been holding on since she asked him to hold them back on the ship. "Here. What's a garden for if you don't plant anything in it?"

She blinked at him for a bit before taking the twilight alpine flower and cactus. "Will these even grow here?"

"Anything will grow here if I want it too. Sides, with your skills you could get anything to grow here regardless."

Poppy smiled at him before turning around and starting forward. The two then took a moment, Snatcher helping her dig two holes a little a ways from the roses so Poppy could carefully put her two new additions into her new garden and carefully pat them in. Smiling as a mother would smile at her children when she was done, even if the bottom half of her dress and hands were all dirty afterwards. She took a moment just....staring and smiling at her new beautiful garden and Snatcher stared at her with a bright smile on his face seeing her smile so genuinely after so long....before frowning and looking down.

".....Listen, Poppy." She looked back up to him and he felt worry pool in his gut. "I know I....made mistakes when we first met again and if you....really want to live somewhere else or even break from the contract I'll respect your choice fully."

"....That's so sweet of ya but.....I'm not planning on going anywhere for a while."

he snapped to her blinking. "Wait. Really?"

She nodded smiling before looking back to the roses. "Ah really don't where I'd go if I did. Never did have any interest in travelin' 'round. And...A-And I think I enjoy havin' the safety of a purple onion." She shrugged. "Maybe things will change in the future but right now....I'm happy and content at this moment." She looked at him, moonlight making her blue eyes shine. "Thank you."

He felt yellow flush through his face again and he quickly turned away. "Y-Yeah. Well you know where to find me if you ever change your mind! I-It's not like Im super attatched or anything you know! You're your own person after all! You can make up your mind any way you want!"

Soft hands grabbed his neck fluff and yanked him down to eyes level with those blue eyes suddenly and Snatcher didn't have any moment to react before a pair of soft lips gave him a quick peck on his fanged mouth. And he froze! Poppy pulled back and stared at him for a moment....before snickering. His mouth had dropped wide open, eyes small as a dime, and his entire face a bright yellow. The fluff around his neck fluffing up to new heights as he just sat there. OH PECK!! OH PECK!! OH PECK- POPPY KISSED HIM!! LIKE REALLY R E A L L Y KISSED HIM!! LIKE-....A REAL ROMANTIC KISS!! Her snickering brought him out of his stuper as he sqawked like a bird and immediately pulled away. And Poppy opened the flood gates to laughter as she snorted and laughed at his flustered state.

"Y-Your- AHAHAHAHAHA! *snort* F-FACE!! I-IT LOOKS LIKE A JACK O LANTURN!!"

"WELL!! I THINK ITS TIME TO GO!! AFTER ALL YOU'RE BABYSITTER ALL NIGHT!! AND IM NOT HELPING!!,'' he yelled out as he began floating away.

Poppy reached out for him before stubbling to her feet still laughing and chasing after him. "W-WAIT!! I DIDN'T MEAN IT!! AHAHAHA!!"

"YES YOU DID!! BACK TO SPACE WITH YOU!!"

"HAHAHA!! NO I DIDNT!!

"YES!! YOU!! DID!!"

The red head chased the flustered ghosts back towards the tree home. A gently wind blowing more petals to the ground.

#Snatcher

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noodlekugel · 5 years

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The King Premiere in NYC - October 1, 2019

Last week, I went to the NY Premiere of The King at the SVA Theatre. Tumblr has eaten this post at least 3 times, so I apologize for the delay.

All pictures above are mine - please do not re-post without credit.

Below is a summary of my experience, and a brief review of the film.

Where to begin? First off, I was fortunate enough to get tickets to The King just as Timothée crashed Gofobo. The few days leading up to the premiere, I was riddled with anxiety - I was torn between waiting at the red carpet, or waiting in line for the screening, since neither was a guarantee. The film was going to be on Netflix within the next month so I’d get a chance to see it fairly soon, but we didn’t have that much information about whether the cast would be talking at the screenings themselves. Fortunately, the venue made my mind up for me - they set up one line, and only allowed ticket holders at the barricades for the red carpet.

I arrived earlier for this than I’d care to admit (the time was PM, but not that much after noon...), and was about 20th in line, which became 40th after the folks ahead of me let their plus ones join them. We were told there was room for about 40-50 people at the red carpet, but the people running the screening promised those around me that we’d make the cut.

So, the waiting began. I made some friends in line, some people I’d met before through Tumblr, Instagram and Facebook, and some new friends. Everyone around me spent the next six hours bonding over our shared love of all things Timothée and Call Me By Your Name (because of course that’s how we all truly discovered him, even if we’d seen him in other projects before). I also met a few people who had commented on my fics in the past, and I outed myself to them, which is still feels like a weird thing for me to do.

Around 6PM, they started letting us line up at the red carpet. Thankfully, they handed us physical tickets for the film, which included seat assignments (!!!), which relieved so much of the stress that most of us were feeling about finding seats inside once we left the red carpet. My seats had a pretty terrible view of the screen, but they were free, so beggars can’t be choosy.

We got lucky, and @all-things-all-the-time and I got space on the barricade, close to the entrance of the theater. Much to our surprise, Timothée’s parents, Nicole and Marc, stood on the red carpet directly in front of us for about an hour. This is where I will now proclaim my fandom of Marc Chalamet (more on this later). He seemed so warm and talked with us for a little while. The folks from Netflix, or whomever were hosting the screening, gave out t-shirts (see my pictures above), which was a pleasant surprise.

Lily was the first to walk the red carpet. She spent some time down on our end, and we had a conversation with her about her dress, during which she was endlessly worried about creasing it. Notice in one of my pictures above, the back is slightly creased, but... we’re all human. I’m sure everything I wear is always creased, so I am not judging her at all for worrying about that... After she finished walking the red carpet, she spent time standing with Timothée’s parents, and chatted with Marc in French until her two friends arrived. When Pauline got to the red carpet, she gave Lily a warm hug (Lily’s back was to us, so I don’t know what her reaction was), and then attacked her parents with hugs and kisses. We heard her say multiple times how handsome both her father and brother looked. Also, she was wearing an awesome scarf with skulls on it, and wore sneakers to the red carpet, a move I can 100% get behind.

Eventually, Timothée made it to the red carpet, to screams comparable only to Beatlemania. Honestly, I felt verklempt, having watched his meteoric rise over the past two years. This was his first hometown premiere since Call Me By Your Name at the New York Film Festival. We asked his parents how they felt, and Marc said it was surreal. He entered on the opposite end from where we were standing, and he was surrounded by guards, media doing interviews, and photographers, so it took at least a half hour until he got to our end, with two jaunts outside of the red carpet, one across the street and one down the block to where other crowds had gathered.

In my many years of going to concerts and theater and events with celebrities, I’ve never seen a celebrity spend more time with fans or act more gracious and humble than Timothée did. I think this is why I’ve stuck around the fandom for so long - he just seems so genuinely happy to take the time with every fan, of which there were hundreds. Unfortunately, when he made it to our end, he was being whisked off inside of the premiere, so he could only sign things quickly and take selfies without making much conversation. I did get a selfie (I’m not going to post it here, but I’ll share my pictures privately if you message me), but wasn’t able to get my copy of Call Me By Your Name signed, which I had gotten signed by Andre Aciman earlier in the year.

He promised he’d come back, but was pulled away and never allowed back outside, which was not his fault. When March realized that Timothée hadn’t signed @all-things-all-the-time ‘s fantastic embroidery hoop, he asked her if she had a pen, and chased him down so he could sign it for her. When he came back outside a minute later, in his adorable French accent, Marc apologized that Teeeee-mo-tay had stolen her pen. She can tell her own story better, but it ended with Marc giving her a hug.

So, once the red carpet was over, we were told to go inside of the theater. David quickly introduced the movie, pointed at the cast in the audience (Timmy did a dance move that I am too old to actually know but I think is called hit the woah?), and then they started the screening. He quickly left the theater to head to the Quad Cinema screenings a bit downtown.

As for the film, I’ll try to give a spoiler-free review since it’s not out for the public to see yet. Honestly, this wasn’t my favorite movie. Each piece of the film was fine, but this kind of movie is just not my cup of tea. I don’t generally like war movies, and I don’t love historical dramas about monarchies battling for their land and their people. Timothée had a very strong and nuanced performance. He carried the emotional weight of the film on his shoulders, and ably showed Hal/Henry in all forms, from immature and defiant prince to powerful and resolute king. Lily has maybe five minutes of screen time, at the end of the movie. I really like Thomasin McKenzie, and she has a few scenes at the beginning of the film as his younger sister.

The stunt work and the battle sequences were well-choreographed and fun to watch, but I did feel like the movie could have been a half hour shorter. I think Robert Pattinson was my favorite part of the movie besides Timothée - his accent was over-the-top and the performance was flamboyant, but it worked for me. Each scene he was in garnered the biggest reactions from my audience, aside from the applause at the end when Timmy’s name came across the screen.

Overall, I didn’t dislike the film, but it’s not my favorite of the Timmy canon. If you’re a Timothée fan or a fan of historical epics, I recommend seeing it on a big screen, but otherwise, watch it on Netflix (but... definitely see it somehow). I did, however, have a wonderful time at the premiere, and can’t wait for the next film and the next event!

#Timothee Chalamet #timothée chamalet #timmy #the king #the king netflix

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johnnydoe69 · 5 years

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Shedding the Old Skin

Timothy sat on his boyfriend’s couch exhausted. His head throbbed, his pits stank, and sweat continued to pour down his face and neck. Timothy had spent the last four hours handing out Kevin Thompson re-election flyers in the sticky New York City heat. A pile of untaken flyers mocked him from the coffee table with the profile of Kevin Thompson seeming to glare at him.

Meanwhile, Timothy’s boyfriend, Freddie, strolled around his kitchen in nothing but a pair of stained underwear, grabbing bags of chips and a bong. Timothy wasn’t the biggest fan of smoking pot, but he was afraid that Freddie already saw him as a pussy and he didn’t want Freddie’s opinion of him to sink any lower than it already was.

Not that it seemed to matter. Timothy figured it was only a matter of time before Freddie left him for someone more confident and more open about their queerness. Freddie had come out as a trans guy at 16 and gay at 24, while at 28 Timothy was still in the closet. He didn’t even want to hold hands with Freddie in public, let alone do any of the reckless shit Freddie wanted to do like fuck on a park bench or giving each other hickies on the subway.

Timothy was constantly aware of straight people’s opinions of him as he went about his life and he did everything in his power to hide from them. He made sure his voice was low and masculine whenever he spoke in public. He only wore button-up shirts and khaki pants, he kept his blonde hair short and trim, and he made himself as quiet and small as humanly possible to avoid attention.

Freddie plopped himself on the couch next to Timothy, spilling the bags of chips on the coffee table, and once he got comfortable, lighting his bong with a rainbow lighter. Once he had smoked enough for a good buzz, Freddie passed the bong over to Timothy who took a quick whiff and coughed out most of it. Freddie laughed, his voice deep and melodious, “I can’t believe you're in your twenties and you smoke like you’re 15.”

Timothy shook his head sheepishly and said, “I only started smoking when I met you. You can’t expect me to be an expert at this already.”

He handed the bong back to Freddie, the both of them knowing he wouldn’t take a second whiff until it was almost empty. Freddie took another inhale when he noticed the huge stack of flyers underneath the bags of chips on the coffee table. He put the bong down and picked up one of the flyers. Plastered across its design was a smiling man in a suit and tie, surrounded in a semi-circle by a group of working-class people looking to him with awe.

“Please tell me you didn’t spend 4 hours handing out flyers for this choad,” Freddie said, turning to Timothy with a crumpled expression.

“It really wasn’t that bad. I grew up in the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’m used to standing in the hot sun trying to save people from themselves.” Timothy said, suddenly deciding he needed to take another hit from. Taking Freddie’s lighter, he lit the bong and inhaled as much weed as he could, desperately trying to ignore the worried expression on his boyfriend’s face. Freddie crumpled up the flyer and dropped it to the floor.

“Timmy, I’m fucking worried about you. You let people walk all over you and you end up working yourself to death. Did they even give you water to drink? Or breaks? Or Hell, a motherfucking chair to sit in?”

Timothy kept silent, knowing the answers to Freddie’s questions would make him more upset. Freddie shook his head and looked away, his fists clenched and his head-turning red. With his sharp yellow mohawk, he looked like a phoenix ready to tear into Kevin Thompson’s perfectly manicured face.

“Change requires sacrifices. If we want our political machine to change we have to be willing to put up with some unpleasantness.” He didn’t want to add the next part, but he was too exhausted and annoyed at Freddie to hold it in, “You don’t want real change. You dress like a thug and think the masses will come flocking to you. It’s pathetic.”

Timothy gazed at his boyfriend’s strong muscular back as it clenched up like a fist. He realized that he might have said the wrong thing, but at that point, he was exhausted and unwilling to put up with whatever huff Freddie got himself into.

“At least I’m honest with who I am and what I want,” Freddie said in a quiet voice. He spun around and stared directly into Timothy’s eyes, making Timothy reflexively move away from him on the couch.

“When I go outside with my dyed hair and leather jacket and I say and do whatever the fuck I want, I get to know that I do that on my terms. If people want to stare, call me a faggot, fine, fuck them I can take it. What I can’t do is hide in thirty different layers of respectability and delude myself into thinking that makes me better than everyone else.”

Freddie got up from the couch and paced around the cramped living room, kicking furniture and clothes out of the way to make room.

Freddie couldn’t make sense of his boyfriend. When they had first met, Timmy had practically shoved his hand down his pants. It was at one of those seedy gay bars where the lighting was so bad it was hard to see even in the middle of the day. He didn’t remember what he had first said to Timmy, but soon they were making out in his van. Timmy’s warm, thick tongue sliding down the back of Freddie’s throat.

By the time he was able to peel himself away from Timmy’s mouth to drive them to his apartment, Timmy was half-naked, having shed most of his clothes in the car. Timmy tore off Freddie’s clothes as they struggled into the apartment, Timmy ripping them to shreds to get at him. When they collapsed on his bed, Timmy let out an ear-piercing roar as he let Freddie enter him.

“You like that baby,” Timmy cooed as he ground himself on Freddie’s dick and all Freddie could do was nod in awe at this sexy and intimidating presence that had ended up in his life. Timmy howled with an intensity Freddie had never heard in another man before. His kisses sucked the life from Freddie’s throat, leaving him gasping for air and begging for more. Timmy clawed at Freddie’s skin like a wild animal, the trickle of blood going down Freddie’s back and arms turning him on even more. During sex, Freddie swore that Timmy’s eyes blazed red as they deeply stared into his, making him think that he was high, dead, or fucking a demon.

When they finally finished it was the best orgasm Freddie had ever experienced in his life. Both Timmy and Freddie collapsed together in a heap on the bed, snuggling until Freddie lost consciousness. When he woke up, his blankets on the floor, bed torn apart, bong smashed to pieces, he found Timmy fidgeting with the broken stove in the kitchen.

Freddie just wanted Timmy to be happy and he never saw him as carefree and as willing to enjoy himself than that first night they had sex. He knew that wild beast that lurked in Timothy’s heart was there, he just had no idea how to release it from the bedroom.

He stopped pacing and looked at Timmy, almost passed out on the couch at this point. His dazed eyes staring at the ceiling with a sleepy smile on his face. Freddie knew that like most of their fights, they would end up snuggling on the couch before Timothy went to the bathroom and cried his heart out in the bathroom sink.

Freddie sighed, he knew of one way Timmy could be happy, but it came at a cost.

Timmy noticed Freddie had started to stare at him and whimpered, “Babe, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m only trying to help people in my own way. I wish I could be like you, dressed in leather and punching cops in the face, but I just can’t.”

Freddie shook his head and took Timmy’s hands in his. “Okay, I know of a guy who can help you. His name is Johnny Cocksucker. He’s a prophet of sorts in the queer punk scene.”

“Do I have to let him blow me or something?” Timothy asked.

“Just buy him a pack of cigarettes and he’ll help you find what you need.”

Later that day, after Timothy had sobered up and had a good cry he walked over to the 7/11 parking lot Johnny Cocksucker hung around. In the lot, Timothy saw around three people sitting on the hood of someone’s truck. Two men and one woman dressed in leather with wild colored hair shared a bottle of liquor someone stored in a brown paper bag.

Timothy wasn’t sure what to expect. Was Johnny going to give him some kinda pep talk or was this some weird initiation thing where Timmy would get beat up in an alley somewhere? Would Freddie do something like that to him?

He came to the three punks and waited until one of them noticed him. At first, they ignored him making Timothy stand there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Eventually, the girl noticed him and asked, “The fuck do you want?”

“Hi, I’m looking for a guy named Johnny Cocksucker. I was told he could help me.`` Timothy stammered. The three punks glaring at him made him feel like he was going to shit himself.

Then one of the men smiled, “My name’s Johnny Cocksucker. You want a tarot reading or something more?”

Timothy hesitated, he wasn’t sure what Freddie meant by Johnny helping him find himself, but Timothy trusted Freddie and he did want to know himself whatever that meant. So Timothy said, “I want something more. My boyfriend, Freddie, said you could help me find myself.”

“You got me a pack of smokes?” Johnny asked, leaning back on the truck hood.

Timothy nodded, supplying a box of cigarettes from his sweatshirt pocket, “Marlboro, right?”

Johnny nodded, got off the truck, and swaggered over to Timothy.

“Alright, sweetie. Let’s do this.” He took Timothy by the hand and him across the street into a dark alley. It was narrow and cold, but Timothy found himself getting turned on by Johnny. His dick got a little hard and if he wasn’t with Freddie he would have gladly given or received head from this man.

Once they were out of earshot, Timothy started talking. “I got into a fight with Freddie and I know I’m not super great at communicating my feelings and I was kinda condescending to him, but I’m just not comfortable-”

Johnny put a finger to Timothy’s lips. “Honey, I’m not your fucking therapist. Do you want to know what you want or not?”

Timothy nodded eagerly.

Johnny lit a cigarette and blew some smoke in Timothy’s face. Timothy wheezed, but noticing Johnny’s eyes he suddenly stopped. Timothy felt rooted to the spot, Johnny’s brown eyes drawing all his attention.

Johnny smiled, “you love him don’t you?” “Yes.” Timothy replied, “I love him a lot.” Timothy felt a strange heat coming from his dick, it prickled and burned. “And you want to help people, instead of pussyfooting around with shitheads who don’t give a flying fuck about you?” Johnny Cocksucker asked, dangling the cigarette from his mouth as he pressed his hands on Timothy’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t call it pussyfooting rather attempting to engage the electorate-” “Do you want to help people or not?” “Yes.” Timothy agreed again. Timothy’s erection pressed up against his pants, making it too painful to keep on. He undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor with a deep moan.

“That’s it, bitch. That’s it.” Johnny Cocksucker said, nodding at Timothy’s progress. Cocksucker continued, “And you want to live as yourself and not what everybody wants you to be?”

“Yes, please,” Timothy moaned, his dick was so hard he had to take his boxer briefs off, leaving his hard six-inch dick out in the breeze.

Cocksucker spit into his hands and rubbed them viciously before putting his hands on Timmy’s cock. His hands were calloused and hard but in a satisfying way. The odd bumps and dry skin against his dick only made Timothy harder.

Cocksucker got on his knees and placed Timothy’s dick in his mouth, his soft lips massaging Timothy’s throbbing cock. With every thrust of Johnny's head on his cock, Timothy felt layers of himself getting peeled away.

No more working with politicians, no more canvassing, stickers, and plastic straw boycotts. He would fight and do shit that helped people now, not maybe four years down the road. He would organize with Freddie and fight against police oppression. The rage that had been building inside of him his entire life was forcing its way through. He would no longer be held back by fear.

Timothy growled and moaned as Johnny worked his magic on Timothy’s dick. Timothy’s fear and layers of respectability heading into his dick. As Timothy’s mind changed, so did his appearance. His lanky frame that served him well in avoiding public scrutiny was filling up with muscle. His button-up shirt was replaced with a ripped t-shirt and a leather jacket, his khaki pants and boxer briefs replaced with stained jeans and filthy red boxer shorts. Two solid black boots replaced his polished brown oxfords.

His short blonde hair grew and became spiked, turning a dark shade of green. Black nail polish appeared on his fingernails and silver rings materialized on his two middle fingers. Then sharp pinpricks of pain stabbed through his ears, mouth, and nose making him let out a small scream. Piercings were ripping through Timothy’s flesh until his entire face was coated with them. With his new look and personality came a new name, Viper. It was a name that intimidated the right people, but for Freddie, it would always mean his thick now nine-inch dick.

He cummed in Cocksucker’s mouth. His old life and insecurities disappearing down Johnny Cocksucker’s throat.

Needing to take a breath, Viper leaned his head against a brick wall. Johnny Cocksucker stood up and wiped his mouth.

“You good?” Johnny asked, taking out a cigarette.

Viper nodded in a daze, “I have to find my boyfriend.”

Johnny smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Viper stumbled a few steps forward when Johnny said, “Hey, pull your pants up. You got your dick hanging out.”

Viper looked down at his thick nine-inch dick hanging in the air and he chuckled.

“Still a little fucked up, I guess,” Viper said, pulling up his pants and underwear. Then he staggered out of the alleyway, his dick still hard, as Johnny Cocksucker took out a cigarette and watched. “Freddie owes me big time for that shit,” Johnny said, lighting his cigarette. The taste of cum and Timmy’s fear still hanging in the back of his throat.

Viper struggled to make his way to Freddie. He had an insatiable desire to fuck Freddie just the way he wanted. Rough and intense, like the time they first fucked, only this time Viper wasn’t going to freeze up every time after they had sex. It was going to be crazy and uninhibited the whole way. the way that he had never been fucked before. It felt like miles before Viper ended up outside an old theatre. In the haze of Viper’s mind, he knew that Freddie had a gig there tonight.

That’s when he realized it was dark out. Had six hours passed that quickly? Then Viper watched as a bunch of roadies with band equipment were leaving the venue, including Freddie.

Freddie looked over and saw a man waiting for him. He didn’t know why, but he had the sudden feeling that the green-haired punk was his boyfriend.

He dropped what he was doing and ran over to him. Viper jumped up and wrapped his legs around Freddie’s waist kissing him on the mouth.

“I know Johnny did a number on you, but holy shit you’re hot,” Freddie said in-between kisses.

“Can you faggots get off the sidewalk?” an old man screeched at them.

Viper flipped the old fucker off and lost himself in Freddie’s passionate embrace. He would never take a straight person’s bullshit ever again.

#dick growth #reality change #punk transformation

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crispyimagines17 · 5 years

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“GOSSIP GIRL: New York, New York“ (Chapter 1).

Summary: Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite. Things begin to stagger at the Upper East Side with the return of Alana Howarth and the unexpected arrival of Timothée Chalamet, a European handsome boy and rising ruler who has come for Alana; ignoring that NYC already has an heir and prince in its realm, Tom Holland. Secrets, romance, drama and lots of champagne are our daily bread. You know you love me, XOXO.

Originally based on: R’s & CrispyImagines writers’ idea.

Written by: @crispyimagines17

CAST:

Tom Holland

Timothée Chalamet

Disclaimer: This fiction is set on our days (2019). Gossip Girl is now all over social media, Twitter and Instagram being the best sites to find hot tea. Also, for those who may ask what happens with Serena, Blair, Chuck, Dan, Nate and the original cast, they’re now grownups who set the reign and have left it for new generations.

Author’s Note: Well, I’m really really excited for this. A huge sorry for those who’ve been waiting an eternity; college and our sense of perfection got in the way. But now here it is. Hope you love it as much as we do and enjoy every word <3 (also hope this feels like watching a Gossip Girl episode).

Further author's note: So this me from the future haha I was reading this chapter and holy crap! I needed an editor for this, it's good but some scenes are garbage and just make the chapter really REALLY long. Please new reader, give my series a chance. I promise the 2nd chapter is better (check it on the masterpost). Way better. Also, I'll try to re-write this chapter to take away that shit. In the meantime, please try to enjoy my efforts.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here… And I have the biggest news ever. One of my many sources – jessica97 – sends us this;

Spotted at JFK International Airport, bags in hand: Alana Howarth. Was it only a year ago our It-Girl mysteriously disappeared for, quote, ‘boarding school’? And just as suddenly she’s back.

You don’t believe me? See it for yourselves. Thanks for the photo, Jess.

Wonder what Tom Holland thinks about her return? Not much, I guess. Manhattan’s elite prince himself was caught low-key undercover at a downtown Starbucks.

But she’s not the only surprise that comes up with foreign winds. Fresh meat sent from overseas, girls. A foreign handsome boy chatted with our Lana before taking his own way. New snack, huh?

Enjoy your mocha latte, Tom; you’re gonna need it. And welcome back, Alana.

The flight 0159 London-New York City had arrived at its destiny. And Alana Howarth breathed for the first time in a long time the air of her city. Maybe it was good to be back at home. The airport was somehow peaceful, at least.

Geoffrey, the family butler, was waiting for her in the same place as usual; near the candy shop where 7-year-old Alana loved to buy chocolates after a long journey.

“Geof!”, she took her Prada pale gold sunglasses up to her hair to glance at her old friend better.

“Miss Howarth”, the 50-year-old man who might be easily confused with Alfred Pennyworth showed her a bright smile.

“Oh, c’mon. I brought you something.”

“You’re so kind, miss Howarth. Let me take your luggage and…” Geoffrey went silent and only made a gesture with his eyebrows for Miss Howarth to turn her face behind her.

A young handsome man was decidedly walking towards her. By the Louis Vuitton travel pillow around his neck, one could say his flight had just landed too.

“Surprise!”, he shouted while shaking his hands as magicians do.

“Timothée?”, but Alana’s reaction wasn’t reciprocal. She frowned and narrowed her eyes, completely confused. “Wha- How?”

“I was on the same flight, London-New York. Literally crossed the sea to see you again.”

“But I never saw you on First Class boarding line”

“Ran late.” Before she could argue something else, he added “And asked for a seat far from yours, I didn’t want you to see me.”

“Wow… Why?”

Both youngsters were looking right into each other’s eyes; Timothée’s with a flash of hope and Alana’s were almost watery.

“I just couldn’t let you go so easily”

The following silence allowed Geoffrey to help her and cleared his throat loudly, bursting their bubble.

“Miss Howarth, your mother gave instructions to have you at the penthouse at 2 p.m.”

The clock read 1:40 p.m. Saved by the bell.

“Sure, she did. Thank you, Geof.”

“Go, go. I’ll send you a DM”, Timothée nodded and made a gesture with his hand for her to enter the limo.

They shared a brief eye contact once more before the handsome man turned back and walked away.

Overwhelmed, Alana was about to step into the limo when she heard a female known voice.

“Alana?”

“Marva?”, a brunette typical-Upper-East-Side-girl approached her with eyes wide open and eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh God, you’re back!”

Both girls shared a courtesy hug. Though, Alana was clearly tired.

“And… how you’ve been?”

“Cool. My cousin Jessica arrives today”, Marva answered as opened her purse to take out her cell phone and unblock it. “Well, I guess everyone knows you’re back now. It’s all over Gossip Girl”.

“Wait, what?”, Alana asked with a frown while trying to see Marva’s phone screen, but before she could read anything Marva kept it back into her purse.

“Gotta go, A. See you.”

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

Oh, A. New York has never been peaceful at all. You should know that more than anyone. Our princess is back, but apparently her crown has lost one diamond; what did she do last summer? And why did she return?

Down at Starbucks in the Upper East Side, Tom Holland had his phone on Do Not Disturb mode. He preferred it that way. His mother had announced him Alana’s arrival at breakfast, and he wanted to take a breath before seeing her. The last time both had spoken left a weird feeling down his chest, so he better be prepared.

Tom plopped down on his Jaguar’s leather back seats with a sigh, leaned against his back and sip his cappuccino. His mother words echoed on his mind over and over again.

“Our dear Alana comes back today, Tom. Please, don’t forget the party Margot and I have prepared for her at the Palace.”

Our dear Alana. Another sigh escaped through his mouth as he smoothed his hair back with one hand. But he had a special ringtone for Gossip Girl and its sound interrupted his thoughts, couldn’t helping himself on unblocking his device and check out the latest news.

Tom tightened his grip on his phone as his eyes read the lines about a foreign handsome man. In a single move, he dialed a number and approached it to his ear with pursed lips.

“Evan. Tom Holland here. Tell me everything you know about this man, I’ll send you his picture.”

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

Timothée looked through the polarized windows with his eyes fixed on New York City. It was very American, not a single glimpse of Europe, indeed. His phone vibrated under his right pocket and as soon as he read the name on the screen, he answered.

“How was your flight, Timmy?”, a soft female voice asked on the other line.

“Good, mom.”

“Fine. Your father wondered where the private jet was.”

“Father… Asking for the jet instead of his son”, Timothée gritted his teeth and nodded ironically.

“Are you…?”

But he anticipated to her words and answered right away.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to uncle Chuck’s. Call you later… Love you too, bye.”

Chuck Bass, his mother’s millionaire cousin. They were related by Chuck’s mother, but her death didn’t make them close. Though, family is family and the Chalamet were always invited to every Bass event. But Timothée hadn’t seen him in years, he barely remembered Bart Bass’ funeral or more so, Chuck’s wedding with Blair Waldorf.

But he knew one thing for sure; his uncle had been the king of the Upper East Side, and now that he’s not a youngster then his place must be someone else’s.

With a frown and pursed lips only a true Slytherin could do, Timothée opened his Twitter and typed “Gossip Girl”, being immediately presented to an account describing;

Gossip Girl, your one and only social media source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s Elite.

He smirked.

“Time to catch up.”

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

February 16th, 2018. One year ago.

The sun drew a soft orange-blue in the sky, ready to let the night its way. Her Louis Vuitton luggage set laid behind her, up in an airport cart.

“Bye, daddy”, Alana kissed her father’s cheek and embraced him as a couple of teardrops fell over his shoulder.

“Take care, sweetheart”, Dr. Howarth’s nose huffed in an effort not to cry.

“Bye, Geof”, she embraced her old friend. The butler took his hat off and smiled at the Howarth girl he had served since her very first day.

“Bye, mom”, Alana kissed her mother. Though their adieu was shorter than her father’s.

A male voice echoed in every corner of the Airport, announcing the boarding room for flight 912 New York-London. Alana took a deep breath before nodding an airport butler for him to drive the cart along her side.

And without further goodbye, she walked towards the VIP boarding line.

***

Once on her seat, she asked the stewardess for a glass of water and an Aspirin. This was more than she can handle. Though, they say it’s better to tear it from the root. So, she typed the well-known user on her Instagram and found right-away the latest hit she had read a couple of days before.

In fairy tales, Cinderella danced until midnight with her Prince Charming. But on the Upper East Side, our Cinderalana ran away before dancing with our Prince T and, instead of a crystal slipper, left a whole crowd open-mouthed. Sorry T, but you had to read the tale first; Cinderella didn’t kiss the Prince on Valentine’s Day ball while he was under vodka’s spell.

Her eyes went watery and bit her tongue to hold her feelings inside. Gossip Girl having perfect timing for dropping bombs. Suddenly, Alana felt the chills running down her spine as she remembered Tom’s closeness and everybody’s eyes on them with their phones out ready to snap the moment.

And it made her sick. She shut her eyes as she leaned against her back on the comfortable seat with a sigh. This had to end, now. But gossips would always be around, and people have no mercy. That’s why she had to leave.

In a movement worthy of dramatic film scenes, Alana looked out through the plane’s window and saw New York City lights vanish before her eyes. Then, she brought her attention back to her phone screen still on Gossip Girl and decidedly clicked ‘Unfollow’.

A new beginning, far far away.

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

May 2019. Present Day NYC - Howarth’s penthouse.

“What do you mean dad is not at home?”

Alana frowned at the woman standing behind a desk with her glasses in the middle of her nose, focused on the golden MacBook screen.

“Well, hospitals demand a lot of him these days. And it certainly did not help the fact he had to deal with the Foundation too when his daughter left.” Margot, Alana’s mother, answered throwing a reproach glance in her daughter’s direction while interlacing her fingers to rest her chin on top.

“But I’m back now.”

“He said he’d be here as soon as his meeting with the board finishes. Maybe you can re-join your place as ‘Charity and Foundation leader’.”

“I’d love that, truly.” Alana said as a warm smile covered her face. If one thing she had missed was the Foundation and all its activities; see children’s faces when they were told their surgeries would be free.

“By the way, the Holland’s organized an evening party at the Palace in honor of your return.” Margot added, bringing her attention back to the MacBoook screen and typing fast over the keyboard.

“Oh mom…”, the prodigal daughter rolled her eyes. Margot being Margot Howarth and the socialite.

“You know they’re very fond of you. Besides, Tom and you have always been close, like cousins.” Alana’s mom took her glasses off to fix her eyes on her daughter as she shrugged. “And when Elizabeth told me about her idea, well, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Hilarious for you.”

“Alana please don’t act like a chi…”

“I’ll be on my room!”, she shouted already on her way towards the stairs. “Until I move again somewhere else”, this last muttered under her breath.

***

As soon as her foot stepped into her room, a kind of relief relaxed every muscle of her body, plopping down over her big bed. After a few seconds, the whole world fell under her chest.

“Fuck”

The very one thing she wasn’t ready to face, and her mother arranges everything as always for it to happen. Alana could’ve continued regretting her bad luck, but jetlag dominated her will and a couple of minutes later, fell deeply asleep.

***

It wasn’t until Dr. Howarth kissed her forehead that her eyes opened, and she slowly got up, still under the sleep’s stupor.

“Morning, sunshine”

“God, what time is it?”

“Six.” He answered calmly as he lend her a glass of cold water. “So, how was Europe?”

After drinking the last drop, she placed the empty glass on the bedside table and fixed her eyes into her father’s.

“Great. Thanks for… everything. Spending my Senior high school year there was the best I could’ve ever done, thank you for supporting that.”

Dr. Marcus Howarth sat up on her bed with his lips pursed in an apologizing manner.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so soon on your Graduation Day, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. You were there, that’s all that matters.”

“You know I’m so thrilled you’re back, and more so behaving like an adult. What happened to my naughty teenager?”

Both shared a laugh. Her father had always been honest with her and knew exactly when to act as a friend or as a parent.

“She grew up.”

Marcus nodded with a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, she did.”

A brief silence floated in the room. Dr. Howarth was about to stood up when Alana asked.

“Dad?”

He looked at Alana with a slight frown.

“I met someone”

His father’s blissful aura faded and narrowed his eyes, ready to hear the story his daughter was about to tell.

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

February 17th, 2018. London City.

Alana closed the door as soon as the last worker left the last suitcase and stood before the mess, but a genuine smile covered her face making it almost shine.

There she was in her new, and so far craziest, adventure: living alone. After enjoying a few minutes of peace, Alana began unpacking. It’d be a long night and she had to hurry.

Tomorrow was her first day at Woldingham School for Girls in Surrey, only 35 minutes away from her location; her father alleged she should study somewhere in London, but her mother decided that, if her daughter was studying in the UK, then she’d do it at the same school she once did. At least Gossip Girl’s realm didn’t get that far.

The bell rang, bringing her back to Earth; approached to the micro near the button instalment that controlled the gate.

“Who is it?”

Her favorite female voice answered.

“It’s me. Blair.”

“Come up!”

A couple of minutes later, godmother and goddaughter were embraced with big smiles.

“Goodness, you’re here!”

“Chuck’s waiting outside, I just wanted to see the place you… chose to live”, Blair Waldorf glanced with a frown every corner of the floor as if looking a horror show. “Seriously, Lana, you should stay at my house here, nobody’s living there. And I’ve heard Benedict Cumberbatch lives a couple of houses from it.”

“I’d like to give this place a try. But thank you.”

Blair hold her goddaughter’s hands and showed her a sincere encouraging smile.

“And remember, no matter if your last name is Howarth, you’ve always been a Waldorf.”

***

The subway ride hadn’t been as bad as she imagined. But living in London with less privileges than in New York felt good.

Alana was about to step outside the principal’s office.

“Here”, the principal handed her a bunch of papers. “Your first class had just begun a couple of minutes ago. ‘Art History’, you better hurry up.”

“Thank you for receiving me, Principal Martha.”

Both women shook hands and shared polite smiles.

“You’re welcome, Alana. It was a pleasure.”

Once on the aisle, she inspected the papers content and between them found a map of the whole campus.

“Not even Harry Potter’s Hogwarts map was that difficult.” Alana muttered under her breath with her eyes locked in the drawings of aisles and buildings.

Apparently, this boarding school was only for girls but was related to the boys’ boarding one next to this, and so, some classes were shared; such as Art History.

When she finally figured out where the hell her room was, it had already begun as the principal warned her. She was standing near the door with her eyes trying to see through the little windows.

“Maybe it’s almost finishing”

But before she decided to leave, a boy with wavy hair and indie aspect cleared his throat and touched her back with his finger. He had drops of sweat running around his face, he ran late too.

“Excuse me uh, are you coming inside?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Seems the class is interesting, I’ll interrupt the professor’s speech, maybe.”

“Mr. Blackwood’s? He doesn’t mind.”

“Really?”

His aura was full of electricity and calm at the same time. And his eyes made Alana’s impression to sound reasonable; both eyeballs were surrounded by a smoldering green.

“Yeah. Besides, if you come in with me, he won’t get mad. Trust me”

“Alright”, she answered doubtfully.

Though his charisma convinced her about the professor’s behavior, this was the first time she trusted someone who had just met.

“I’m Timothée, by the way.” He stretched out his hand to shake it with hers, something not commonly used among youngsters.

“Alana.”

Timothée gently smiled at her as he made a gesture with his hand to let her walk inside first.

“Nice to meet you, Alana. Shall we?”

***

April (one week before Summer) 2018. Woldingham Boarding School.

A couple of months were enough for Alana to feel like a Londoner. She might not know the city by heart but had connected to it in a way she never had with New York. And she barely remembered Gossip Girl or the Valentine’s ball incident.

Mr. Blackwood was in front of the whole class pointing something on the projector’s screen. ‘Modern Art’ era and music was the main subject of the day.

“So, as many of you may know or even have the honor of meeting, Hans Zimmer did change the way film music was recorded…”

The boarding school, despite what her mother commented her, had rich kids from several Western Europe countries. Perhaps Margot referred to the fact most were new monied instead of old monied as in Constance, her former high school in New York.

Timothée was sitting next to her in the middle row.

“He’s getting sentimental.” He turned his head and whispered near her ear.

“Shh.” Alana giggled.

“He is. Jesus, I told him to follow his dream, get his butt to Hollywood and ‘boom’ the Oscar goes to Joe Blackwood for Best Original Score”

Blackwood crossed his legs as he leaned his arms over the desk behind his back.

“Alexandre Desplat finally received his Oscar, but… Alright, back to topic, please eyes on the screen.”

Everyone did as told. Unlike other classes, this one gave them the opportunity to flirt, so in exchange they obeyed the young and cool professor Joe.

“The following video reflects what we’ve been talking these weeks; the power of music.”

Letters – Abel Korzeniowski

Lights had been turned down, leaving the room in complete darkness until two dancers appeared on screen. Their performance was so beyond perfect it almost made her wince.

Once the lights were on again, Mr. Blackwood’s excitement filled his face and voice.

“You see? Every note was sintonized with every movement. Did you feel the passion?”

A moment of silence between the students reigned in the room, until Timothée broke it and everyone’s heads turned in his direction.

“Indeed, Mr. Blackwood. The sequence of the young man reading his lover’s letter reflects pure desperation and pain. Ballet is quite misunderstood sometimes, just bodies moving doesn’t make any sense… But when music accompanies this, it’s… Art.”

His velvety voice was casting a hypnotizing shadow on his very feature. Everyone’s eyes were glued on him. However, it wasn’t interest what she saw reflected on them but a weird mix of respect and fear? She wasn’t sure.

And when he finished his comment, Mr. Blackwood cleared his throat bringing the class’ attention back to the desk where he had been without moving, also spelled by Timothée’s charm.

“That’s art, ladies and gentlemen. Your final Project is about this video, I want an essay on my desk by the end of the week.”

***

Ten minutes later, Timothée and Alana were walking down the aisle in silence.

“What are your plans for this summer?”

She glanced at him with a slight frown as she let out a chuckle. That was unexpected.

“Head back to New York, maybe.”

His eyes were fixed on her, ready to perceive any reaction on her feature while both kept walking.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Suddenly, her face changed to a completely speechless expression. So, he decided to add more and ease her a bit.

“Yeah, road tripping all over Europe. Or at least Western Europe before senior year.”

Nothing. Her eyes were blank.

“Don’t tell me Summer at the Hamptons sounds better.”

Two blinks. And seconds later, a smile.

“No… Uhm, you know what? I’d like a road trip… Very much.”

It was true, another summer listening to her mother’s speech was the last she wanted to do. Or facing what she left.

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

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: The airport handsome young man stepping into the Empire Hotel. There are only two reasons a stranger would walk in with such determination; he’s a guest in a hurry or he’s visiting our former prince Chuck Bass.

***

NYC – Bass’ penthouse.

The elevator door opened and Timothée walked into his uncle’s penthouse. He had his hands inside his pocket as he stared the whole place; it must be the biggest penthouse in New York.

Chuck Bass appeared in a blue suit, holding a glass of whisky on his right hand.

“Timmy, long time no see!”

Bass handed him the glass as he approached to his mini-bar and served a drink for himself.

“Indeed, uncle.”

“Your mother?”

“She’s fine but couldn’t come. You know, Europe is-“

“Her home. That’s what she always told me when we were kids.”

His uncle made a slight gesture for him to seat over the couch.

“And your father?”

“Business.”

“Chalamet… Guess his new empire got him pretty busy.”

Timothée nodded before drinking a sip of whisky.

“I still remember when my father learned your mother was going to marry your father Domenico, a nobody, as he called him.” A hint of a playful grin showed over his face. “He surprised us all when suddenly bought your mother a mansion at Monte Carlo and had investors everywhere.”

A naughty smile covered Timothée’s face as a memory crossed over his mind at the mention of Monte Carlo.

“Oh, that mansion… Got some cool parties over there”

Chuck joined him with the same smile.

“You got that fun sense from your mother’s family side, particularly me.” Chuck blinked as he reminded himself the main subject of that chat.“But, what can I do for you, nephew?”

“Well, I’m pretending to stay here for a while. Yale haven’t accepted me, but Columbia already did and just wanted to let you know.”

“You already found where to live?”

“Yeah, they’re sending my luggage there.”

Again, the elevator doors opened but this time Serena van der Woodsen stepped inside, announcing her hurried way.

“Chuck it’s me! Just came for something Blair left and…”

She was open-mouthed for a splice of a second, before approaching to Chuck though not taking her eyes away from the young man sitting in front of him.

“Serena, this is my nephew Timothée Hal Chalamet.” Both stretched hands politely. “Timothée, this is Serena van der Woodsen, my wife’s best friend.”

“A pleasure.” Serena, despite the years, still glowed in beauty showing him her characteristic smile. “Maybe you’d like to join us tonight. It’s at the Palace, Blair and a friend organized a party to celebrate Alana Howarth’s return.”

“Come, Tim. Blair would be delighted to see you.”

The young man raised his eyebrows in surprise at the invitation. He pretended to be speechless for a few seconds just before a big smile wrote all over his face.

“I’d love to. Thank you so much”

Well, he had to admit it. That insane egocentric philosophy ‘The Universe conspires in your favor to achieve your purposes’ proved him wrong. Thank you, New York.

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

May 2019. Present Day

***

Spotted: A prince with bewilderment written all over his face. Poor T, here’s an advice; if you need help, don’t ask Cupid nor Saint Vodka.

***

NYC – Holland’s penthouse.

Tom was under a warm shower. As soon as he arrived, he locked his door and went straight to his bathroom in an attempt to slowly regain his senses and clarity. He later changed warm for cold water, running his fingers through his hair and sniffing loudly at the freezing touch.

A couple of months ago, he would do this same thing and more, and still say he deserved this pain for what he had done. But today, his mind had changed. Now, he did it as a knight would’ve prepared his horse and his best sword before battle.

Evan was fast, his best informer in fact. Tom was quite pleased by his efficiency; he still hadn’t reached the building when already had the file on his phone. It took his informer less than an hour to get everything about Timothée Hal Chalamet and gather it onto a file.

The first pages were enough for Holland to understand what this man was doing here. He felt blood running faster than ever through his veins, his breathing sped up, clenched his jaw hard and his body was almost trembling in rage. So, he got himself into the shower.

And there he was.

“I fucked up, Alana… I fucked up everything.” He shut his eyes, trying to hold tears inside. “And now this son of a bitch appears from Nowhere…”

Tom couldn’t blame him for the main title in the first page.

“Timothée ‘The King’ Chalamet”

He had laughed when he read it; only someone stupid would name himself a king and add it to his own name. But his smile faded as he kept analyzing and reading newspaper headers.

Chalamet had earned his nickname in late years, by heart. All over Europe, people recognized him as a nice charismatic and gentle young man when regarding adults. But among youngsters, a different story surrounded his name.

Not that he was terrifying or a murderer, a psycho or whatever. Not at all. He was more like a plague. A virus that entered through your ears and eyes.

Newspapers described him in few words as a promoter of good, mainly when he attended to hospitals or charity events. They ignored completely his scandalous life. Early on, his social status had remained low-key, almost nonexistent if not for a couple events his family attended hosted by the Bass family. His debut in true high society had been at the age of 11, when his family moved to Monte Carlo and since then have enjoyed a very wealthy life.

Though, he began building his realm in an Italian boarding school when he was 14; a professor was fired. Nobody really knew the reason; some said that had been because he had seduced her, others said that she scolded him after class for not delivering his homework on time and he turned things around until she cried, and others said she sneezed very close of him.

Later, at the age of 16, when his name was known in several Western Europe countries, he offered a party in Amsterdam. Some say celebrities such as The Weeknd and Cristiano Ronaldo were there. And more parties like that were hosted by him; it’s said Ed Sheeran got inspiration for a song that later became his hit ‘Shape of You’ while he attended one.

Although, when Chalamet turned 18 and moved to London, he settled down and devoted to Art in a calm boarding school.

“Months later, just after he decided to agree a kind of armistice with his realm, Alana comes to his life… And everything because of me.”

The water had ceased falling and Tom reached a towel, drying his face first and breathing deep while blaming himself.

“But this motherfucker is not in Europe. This is New York.”

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

Summer 2018

Seventy summer nights together. Perhaps Shakespeare, Nancy Meyers, and the whole bunch of screenwriters who wrote romcoms about summer loves were right. And she’d confirm it a thousand times… She hadn’t felt better in a long long time.

Alana chuckled and bit her lower lip from time to time as she reviewed her phone gallery with all her on-the-road memories.

He had told her this was his favorite, thus he set it as his lockscreen.

This was Paradise. Although the deal was road tripping, some luxury wouldn’t do any harm. She couldn’t even believe the beauty in the view their shared suite enjoyed.

The sound of the glass door from the shower made her immediately smile as the picture of Timothée with a towel wrapped around his waist filled her eyes.

He smiled at her too and turned around to open the mirrored cabinet and look for his Hugo Boss cologne. Once he found it, he poured some over his hand and dispersed it around his neck.

“Ready for your surprise?”

Alana smirked. Her eyes had been focused on his movements she didn’t expect that.

“What? You didn’t tell me”

“Oh, it’s true. I forgot to tell you about your surprise, maybe cause that’s what surprises are. A SECRET.”

“You’re a bad bad guy for not telling me.”

He walked towards her with a mischievous smile.

“But I’m YOUR bad guy.”

Timothée approached slowly and then captured her lips with his in a long and soft kiss. He cupped her face in his hands after pulling away.

“Go, babe. Get ready.”

Now was her turn to take a shower. Life couldn’t be better.

***

“Oh God. Timothée you didn’t…”

Alana was open-mouthed as she looked through the window how the limo drove them to the front door of the auditorium. A big poster announced tonight’s event: The 1975 in concert.

He rejoiced in his success for making her that happy.

“I did, darling. I did.”

“But- wh- how?”

“Let’s just say Matty Healy owed me a favor.”

“You know Matty Healy? Oh, dear heaven…”

Once inside the complex, another surprise came for her; Matty reserved them special seats in the front row. This had to be a fucking dream, one Alana wanted to never end.

The lights were all off, only a few white shadows were visible. Some guitar chords resonated. And suddenly, a blue neon light lit up the stage. Robbers characteristic sounds shouted making the whole crowd crazy and she couldn’t help herself but joining them.

Timothée just looked at her, at the shine in her eyes reflecting those lights and felt his heart melt. When he remembered the lyrics, he also joined the crowd and the woman next to him.

The group played a lot of songs more, connected, laughed and played with their audience. Matty even mentioned them:

“A few friends of mine are here tonight. Hope you’re enjoying this. ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS PEOPLE?”

As the end of the night came closer, the illumination changed slowly until a violet-pink light colored the stage and a kind of white smoke covered the arena. One more song and it’d be over.

It was ‘Somebody Else’. Alana’s favorite song from The 1975. Her eyes went watery as a soft smile wrote over her face.

He felt it too. Countless times he had told Matty this was their best song ever, so when it began playing Healy looked at him and blinked an eye before singing.

Timothée pressed his body against hers with her back touching his chest. He wondered if she could feel his fast heartbeats. Though she did nothing, but wince at his touch that only sent shivers down her spine.

He was a few inches taller, so his breath moved some strands of her hair. His hands ran down her arms until it reached hers and hold them as both crossed their fingers; hand to hand. Slowly, he led their arms to raise them above their heads and move with the music.

And if there’s a thought, it was a lie.

Two bodies, two souls, two hearts. Dancing together. Being one.

“Let’s keep dancing, let’s do it”.

Matty said to the audience, but Timothée felt the message had been more for him because he saw the way he danced with Alana. Yeah, he perfectly knew what Healy wondered and he was right; The King fell in love.

***

Backstage, Timothée introduced Alana to The 1975 members.

“You guys enjoyed the concert?” Matty asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

“Hell yeah. It was amazing, you guys are AWESOME.”

Her smile was infinite. Almost nothing in the world would make it fade.

“Thank you, thank you. And what are you both doing? I mean, you wanna join us at the after-party?”

The couple looked at each other’s eyes and immediately knew the answer; they wanted to spend the night together at the hotel.

“Maybe next time, Matty. But thank you.” Timothée answered as he nodded to his friend.

“The King shall rest.”

The singer and Timothée shared a masculine hug before Alana took a picture of them with her Polaroid.

“Was a big pleasure seeing you, man. And hope to hear more from you, Alana; you gotta be The Queen.”

***

Alana stood before the mirror and started removing pins from her hair.

“What a night. I still cannot believe it.”

“Pure magic”, Timothée said standing behind her and slowly approaching to retake the same contact as in the concert.

Both looked at their reflection and stayed in silence for a minute before she turned her face to meet her lips with his in a soft kiss.

“Do you love me?”, she asked.

Instead of answering, he kissed her again but desperately this time. Her back hit the nearest wall as he deepened the kiss and unfastened her robe before kissing her neck.

But suddenly he stopped. The Killers Mr. Brightside’s chords coming from her purse interrupted the moment; her phone was ringing. She reached for it and her face paled when she saw the name flashing on the screen; Tom Holland.

She tried to collect herself, speechless as hesitance prevented her from making what her memory commanded her almost instinctively. Her thumb struggled between two choices; she answered, obeying her brain’s will.

“Alana?”

Alana winced at the sound of his voice, though she couldn’t utter a word. Timothée stood behind her as he smoothed his hair back with both hands, confused and frustrated.

“If you’re listening… Oh God, I-I-I don’t know what time is in your location, maybe it’s late or… not,” he began with jitters and hesitance cracking his voice. “Listen, it doesn’t matter if you’re a couple hundred miles from Japan… I was wondering if you have plans tonight.”

He made a pause, waiting for an answer or at least a reaction on the other line, but Alana kept frozen in her place, so he took a deep breath to encourage himself and continue.

“Maybe we could talk. Please, let me explain what-”

“Stop!” Alana exclaimed with an angry yet broken voice and hung up the phone.

She stood there for a couple of minutes more, with her eyes glued to the window view facing the darkness of the ocean at night. And when she finally faced Timothée, who had his eyes fixed on her, she swallowed hard. His eyes widened at the sight of her face, pale as ghost.

“I’d like to get some fresh air… Alone.”

He nodded with a slight worried frown. It was clear she had to make an effort to utter a word. He leaned against the couch, letting a sigh escape from his mouth.

The phone rang again. Mr. Brightside’s chords again over the bed.

Timothée answered.

“Alana? Please, listen to me. I-I-I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he heard a male voice, and even more after listening the weak apologize, his blood boiled.

Who the hell ever dared to hurt her?

He clenched his jaw when he read the name; Tom Holland.

***

When Alana crossed the door and entered their suite, a huge relief relaxed every muscle of Timothée’s body. A part of him told him not to, but he couldn’t help himself on pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” She whispered over his shoulder before pulling away. “I’m sorry for leaving like that…”

His eyes were filled with tenderness for the woman standing face to face.

“No need to apologize, Alana.”

“Yes, I have to. We were having OUR moment and he suddenly calls with perfect timing and everything came back…”, a knot formed in her throat and her voice broke against her will.

Timothée immediately placed his hands over her shoulders, ready to pull her again and protect her. Only God knew what he was capable of if that man placed a finger on her without consent.

“What? He did something to you?”

Even though her voice was now recovered, he could tell it wasn’t easy for her to talk about it.

“Not exactly. There’s a stupid site called Gossip Girl that makes public everything that happens on the Upper E…”

Her lower lip trembled, perhaps as a sign for trying to keep the calm. So he made a decision; no more pain.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” Alana fixed his eyes into his in utter silence. “This is your fresh start.”

“A fresh start.” She nodded.

“The past is on the past”, he gently grabbed her by the chin. “Don’t feel you gotta tell me everything that happened before we met… Let’s make a deal, okay? Like… Hakuna Matata.”

She chuckled. And this relieved him in more than one way.

“No worries, no bad experiences, just today. Present is all that matters.”

“That sounds promising”, she said with a soft smile spreading across her face.

His thumb caressed her chin while both stared straight into each other’s eyes.

“It does, yeah. So… deal?”

“Deal.”

Timothée holded her right hand and kissed it as he promised himself he would never let her go.

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

The Palace. Present Day.

The terrace was crowded by those distinguished guests who were, in Mrs. Howarth’s opinion, indispensable to celebrate her daughter’s return.

Tom had arrived earlier than everyone hoping she’d come with her mother. But she didn’t. People started arriving and there was no sight of her. He was sitting at the Palace hotel bar, taking a sip of scotch as he tried not to check his phone again. One hour. One hour late to her own party.

Just when he was about to believe she wouldn’t come; a waiter tinkled a glass to gain everyone’s attention and music stopped. His mother and Margot Howarth stood mid-stairs with a microphone each in their right hand.

“Good evening”, his mother said.

“Thank you for being here, it’s a pleasure for us to…”

Margot’s voice was in the background while Tom kept glancing in every direction to see if Alana was around. But the face he recognized from the pictures made him grip his scotch glass a little too tight; Timothée Chalamet. What was he doing here?

“Well, she doesn’t really need an introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter Alana Howarth.”

The words resonated in his ears as Tom instinctively turned his face at the stairs. Everyone clapped joyfully.

“Thank you, mom. And thank you, Mrs. Holland. I’m so glad for being here with all of you…”

Still not a minute went by when her voice seemed to have everyone under a spell, as always. Her charm to connect with people had always been her strongest gift.

“…hope to rejoin the Olivia Howarth Charity Foundation and serve our people as it’s meant to be”

More claps. People loved her benevolent soul.

As she walked down the stairs, Alana made eye contact with Tom, but she looked away almost immediately, paying attention to Blair Waldorf and the couple talking with her.

***

Wind wasn’t blowing in Tom’s favor.

Alana had done everything in her power to keep herself busy eating canapes and talking about the beautiful flowers or the dress of Mrs. Perkins with every guest. With this luck, the night would end before he could approach her.

The clock read 9:40 p.m; it was now or never. Tom walked towards Serena van der Woodsen who was standing with a group of people, however when she saw from the corner of her eye her godson, she excused herself and turned to meet him.

“Auntie, I need your help”, Tom said handing her a glass of champagne.

“What is it, Tommy?”

She stared at him with a worried look on her face.

“You see that guy over there?” He glanced at Timothée’s direction talking with Chuck Bass and a couple more businessman. “I need you to distract him so I can have a word with Alana.”

“Oh, I saw him today with Chuck Bass. He’s his nephew.”

“I know. Would you talk to him while I’m with her, please?”

“He’s not with Alana, why don’t you just simply ask her?”

His eyes traveled the whole room.

“It’s… complicated, auntie S.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it, but please Tom don’t make a scene”, Serena placed one hand over her godson’s elbow. “It’s classic of Gossip Girl haunting for something in parties like this one.”

He nodded as putting on a smile and taking a step back from her.

“Don’t worry, auntie S.”

Serena went to the canape table and grabbed two, one for Chuck and one for her, then she headed up to their direction. Timothée welcomed her.

Fortunately, Alana was with a group of women who appreciated him very much. Confident of himself, he took a deep encouraging breath and he took three long strides to stand before her.

“Good evening, ladies.”

A couple of them raised their eyebrows, but they welcomed him nicely.

“Oh Tom dear, we were just talking about high school.”

“Thank God we graduated”, he chuckled, and the group joined him in his polite laugh. His charm might not be as powerful as hers, but it worked, and he used it. After the laugh faded, he cleared his throat. “Alana may I have a word?”

He got her. Fuck. The only thing left for her was nod and force a smile.

“Excuse me.”

Tom led her to a balcony away from the party, not without looking around to make sure no one saw them. In the midst of nervousness and excitement, Tom missed a pair of green eyes watching from the other side of the terrace.

Once outside, Alana turned to face him; she wasn’t chickening out this time.

“Tom, please don’t do this.”

He raised his hands as an innocent man would do in front of a cop.

“I just have to say something, please”

Her eyes were locked on his while she shook her head as if begging him not to press his finger over the wound.

“Don’t, don’t go there.”

“You just need to hear it.” He took one step to be closer to her, and when his mouth opened his voice had a soft sound. “I’m sorry, Alana. For that night. I never wanted to disrespect you or make you feel so bad for you to leave the city and…”

“I didn’t leave because of that!”, she cut him off.

His lips parted, looking genuinely confused. She shut her eyes for a brief moment before letting go a tired sigh.

“Jesus! What happened was the drop that spilled the glass. One day I woke up and… I didn’t want my life to be the way it had been with Gossip Girl shouting every party I hosted or even if I sniffed.” Alana swallowed hard and prayed her courage wouldn’t let her voice fail. “I… thought it’d be enough if I just stayed at the edge, but on Valentine’s…”, a complex mixture of rage and sadness were threatening to crack her voice, but she collected herself before tears flood her eyes. “The very person I cared the most about… showed me this world wasn’t for me cause no one would be truly a friend.”

She let the words hit him as she bit her lower lip in a last attempt not to cry. It still hurt.

“And, you know the rest.”

Silence set between the two of them. Tom was shattered; she had trusted him, and he failed her. He failed. And her words explained a lot of things but one. Tom tried to swallow the knot that formed in his throat.

“So, why you came back?”

“My aunt Blair told me Gossip Girl’s gift for Upper East Side grads was a clean slate for college. That’s why I’m here. A new beginning in New York, with my family.”

“I called you a thousand times and you were mad with me.”

Alana exhaled loudly and her rage seemed to come back for a second.

“I was, right. I knew you had feelings for me, and that night I expected you’d do something. And you did, but under alcohol’s effect. In front of the whole class with their phones out.”

“And I would never forgive myself for that”

Once more, Alana shut her eyes trying to control herself. When she got it, her eyes opened with a calmer pace and saw a dark knight walking towards them. Tom had his back to him and didn’t feel him coming.

“The past is in the past, Tom. Wish you a good life.” She administered the coup de grâce.

“Alana, please…”

Tom lifted his right hand to caress her arm. But Timothée’s hand stepped in the way, pushing his hands away before he could touch her.

Alana rolled her eyes, tired of this drama. She glanced at both men and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

“My dad should be wondering where I am”, she said as she brushed past Timothée making his shoulder move.

As soon as she left, Tom pushed sharply away Timothée’s hand with pursed lips and clenched jaw.

“Who the fuck you think you are to interrupt us?”

Timothée stared at him with a quirked eyebrow, challenging him as a mocking smile threatened to set free at the corner of his lips.

“Would say it was over before I came.”

“Listen to me you…”

But his sarcastic feature changed in a blink of an eye into serious, taking a step closer to him.

“No, YOU listen to me; you got your opportunity and you lost it.”

“Use your words carefully, you’re not in Monte Carlo anymore”, Tom warned him.

“Yeah, that’s what Google Maps says”, Timothée raised his eyebrows as he nodded with a smile.

“Alana would’ve never trusted you if she knew every thing I know about you”, Holland furrowed his eyes while putting his hands inside his pocket.

“And you think she’d believe a word you say?”, Chalamet scoffed. “Wake up, Thomas. She’s not under your mercy anymore.” He enjoyed the face Holland made, speechless. “Do yourself a favor and move on.”

Though, the prince reminded himself his advantage.

“You don’t know her at all. No matter how much time you’ve spent together, the good stuff is on the details and that’s something you won’t get.”

This hit Chalamet hard.

“Are you threating me?”, the European king asked sounding annoyed.

“I’m warning you”, now Tom used Chalamet’s same attitude with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

The atmosphere got heavier as both young men stared at each other with rage overflowing from their auras. But before one could do anything else, Nate Archibald walked towards them with a drink in his right hand.

“Tom? Here you are. Serena’s been looking for you. She’s inside.”

Whether Serena was indeed looking for him or not, Nate prevented him from making a scene and so, Tom had nothing to do but walk away with Nate.

“Thanks”

Alone, Timothée stared at the amazing view.

“New York, New York”

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

The identity of the mysterious airport handsome man was revealed; Timothée Chalamet. But our prince is not delighted by his presence. Looks like Manhattan’s Elite might quake with their outstanding chemistry to light a bomb up.

Alana, you did have fun in your year out… Enjoy your clean slate. I know it won’t take much time for you to dirt them up.

You know you love me, XOXO

Gossip Girl.

TAG LIST: (tagged those who asked but feel free to let us know if you want to be removed or added)

@clairesrainbow; @noobmaster63; @claryaki; @silverscreenkid; @vogueworthy-barnes; @persefoneaurispa ; @izdevett ; @mae-petite-etoile ; @tpwkal; @meliketozier; @aliceinwhateverland; @justcallmenameless; @kathrynisadogperson; @loricwizardbluetoastedcake; @vintageroses1014516; @im-not-edgy-im-just-pretentious; @xlilmultiimaginesworld; @sunnygubler; @agentcvrters; @adorablehumanbeing; @goingwiththewind; @rachel-mc11; @candycxorn; @bruvberta; @justficsandstuff

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thinking-outside-the-giftbox18 · 4 years

Text

A Pill In Time: Chapter 0 - Introduction

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747456/chapters/62524747

Wattpad link: https://www.wattpad.com/932662757-a-pill-in-time-ahit-psych-ward-au-chapter-0

Summary: An alternate universe where A Hat In Time [by Gears For Breakfast] is set in a psychic ward and anyone non-human in the game are human now.

Notes: The writer has done research on the mental disorders yet has trouble understanding and memorizing them, please don’t harass or insult them as they have tried to be empathetic and avoid spreading misinformation.

The perspective of the main character changes to the next character to show what the main character is really doing.

TW: Mental disorders [Autism/Autism Spectrum, PTSD, OCD, Anxiety, Schizophrenia, etc.], the perspective of a child can be dark too, self-loathing, mentions of physical abuse [not kids fighting each other, we were kids who fought our own siblings before, unless it was physical abuse on your perspective…nevermind…], mild swearing, might be boring depending on how I write this story.

It’s a lovely morning, the sky was blue with puffy white clouds, or atleast, that’s what my switch was showing me as I play my favorite video game. My grandpa, Tim wanted to show us- me and my cousin Timmy, where he works; he is a doctor but not like any doctors I’ve met. Today looked like it was going to rain anytime soon by taking glimpses through the car window, in the reflection I saw Timmy was also bored of watching the window as he snaked a hand to the zipper of my big bagpack!

“Hey!” I yelled out, making both Timmy and grandpa Tim jump a bit. Timmy regained his position and looked away with his arms crossed, “I saw your hand on my bagpack!” I declared. He, being the older cousin, sticks his tongue out in protest “Did not!” he replies while keeping the “good guy” attitude. Grandpa just sighed and looks at both of us from the rear view mirror, me and Grandpa have the same eye color, “Timothy Jr. and Hana, stop fighting. And don’t touch her bagpack, Timmy.” He nonchalantly stated while Timmy’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he looked at Grandpa and then at me, I was busy playing my game but listened in on them-

Timmy: “That’s not fair! I didn’t bring anything with me, besides the switch, and she gets to bring all FORTY OF HER TOYS!!”

Grandpa Tim: “She has to bring them for her own safety as all of those toys help her.”

Timmy: (mumbles) “Sometimes I think she’s pretending to have Autis-!”

Grandpa Tim: (exclaims) “Timothy Junior!! You do not say that in front of your cousin sister!”

Timmy: (quiet) “…”

…It sucks to have Autism, if I’m being honest here. You see, I was raised by my Grandpa only, and he makes sure that I have a good life, but when you’re surrounded by “normal” kids who are quick to point out a flaw you can’t control or those who are just close to you to get what you have, as far as stealing it, it gets harder as you grow up. Grandpa says that I am special in my own way, and he has met and helped those who are almost like me, so I take his word for it. Whenever me and Timmy fight, Grandpa always tells me that what makes me different from Timmy is that I have a different way of seeing the world, his way of saying that Timmy is raised differently and has trouble understanding how I feel. Those “toys” I brought along, all help to make me feel… safe, each of them are a part of my memories and it’s hard to not leave them.

“We’re here!” Grandpa tells us after a long silence, he had just parked the car next to a hedge close to a grey-white stone building, I unbuckled my seatbelt and carry my bagpack which is heavy, but I can keep it in Grandpa’s office. I held onto Grandpa’s hand as we all walked to the entrance of the building, the inside was like a quiet hospital with dimmed lights, there were nurses, security guards and janitors roaming the corridors to attend to any room in need of their services. Timmy and I looked at each other and we had the same thought: This looks like a good horror movie setting, Grandpa walks up to the first door, unlocks it and lets us in, the room looked almost identical to Grandpa’s bedroom, without the bed and a closet, there was a big wooden desk with a lot of small framed photos, a pen-holder and a goldfish bowl with a blue-red betta fish in there, “Stitch!!!” I exclaimed, I put down my bagpack on a purple beanbag and ran to the fishbowl, waving at the blue fish, I remember Grandpa buying him in a pet store when I saw him, I was so happy to see Stitch again.

Then an almost plump lady in a nurse uniform and a sweet smile peeps into the office, holding a paper bag filled with something, Grandpa greets her warmly, “Head Nurse Clara! Good to see you here, these are my grandchildren: Timothy Jr. and Hana.” Both me and Timmy waved at Clara, who smiles more, “Oh my! It’s really nice to finally meet you two! Good thing I baked a fresh batch for both of you!” She gets a paper plate from Grandpa’s office cabinet and out of her bag was a pile of cookies, the smell danced around the room and I was jumping on my tippy toes, wanting to hop on top of the desk and snatch all of the cookies for myself. Grandpa and Clara laugh softly at my reaction while Timmy rolls his eyes, Clara gives the plate to both of us and the next 5 minutes were a blur as me and Timmy eat the cookies and watch me play the game in his switch. Grandpa and Clara had left the room previously for work, leaving us in the office; as I finished the game, I noticed that there was one more cookie, so of course, I take it and took a bite of the scrumptious treat, Timmy looked at me with what I can guess was betrayal. “I wanted that last cookie!!! How could you?!!” I jolted, looking at Timmy with surprise, he storms off to the office door and slams the door shut, making my ears ring from the loud bang. I really didn’t mean to eat the last cookie, I can’t help it…

Timmy didn’t come back, so I went outside to see him leaning against the wall, with his hat brim covering his eyes, he got that grey hat from his dad, my uncle; he and Timmy’s mom are always busy, leaving Timmy with me and Grandpa. I walked towards him cautiously, this wasn’t the first time he gets mad, the last time ended with me getting an arm-brace and bandages while he got bruises and was grounded for 2 weeks. “T-Timmy…? I’m really sorry for eating the last cookie…I didn’t know you wanted it first…” I shakily said, hoping for him to yell at me and cause a scene, so that Grandpa could rush to us and calm everything down, Timmy raises his head to reveal his eyes, they also match Grandpa’s eyes…”That’s okay, it’s just one cookie! You really like cookies, that’s all.” He replies, shrugging everything off, leaving me surprised. He patted me in the back reassuringly with an off-putting smile, he notices my hands that have chocolate smudges and cookie crumbs, “You should wash your hands, Hana! Wouldn’t want to get the switch dirty, or ruin your fun with the treasure hunt!” He had this unusual tone when he mentioned a treasure hunt, yet he saw how my eyes widened more, he smiles more and chuckled. “A treasure hunt?? You were planning a treasure hunt??” I asked with excitement, I hopped on my toes again with delight, Timmy nodded and again asked me to wash my hands again, “After you wash your hands, count to one hundred, okay?” I looked at him confused, I asked why, “To find the perfect spot to hide the treasure, duh!” I naively giggled at his answer and rushed to the restroom, beginning to wash my hands, just the thought of something exciting finally happening while in Grandpa’s hospital.

Timmy’s P. O. V.

As I watch Hana rush to the restroom, I set my plan in motion, ‘I’ll show that dummy that she shouldn’t get nice things…! She’ll pay for making my switch dirty with her grubby hands and eating my cookie.’ I thought with a smirk as I open her bagpack she carried so dearly on her back. I looked at all of her toys, which were in fact just really weird looking gadgets, especially a really heavy blanket and a top-hat shaped toy with a turnkey on the band, I didn’t waste time to look through all of them as I carried the bag, ignored my breaking back and ran everywhere to hide all the toys, even the other 2 floors above the ground floor. Good thing this ward has elevators, or Hana will punch me more badly if I get caught, like the last time we fought…I shudder at the thought of being grounded for more than 2 weeks. Luckily, I knew this ward, inside and out to know where to put these toys in.

Hana’s P. O. V.

I washed my hands but in the process, got my sleeves wet, so I used many paper towels and a hand dryer for a long time, then I start the countdown from 1 to 100, but I messed it up twice, till I finally get to one hundred. With adrenaline pumping into my veins, I rush outside but saw Timmy nowhere, he might be in the office, I thought, and I entered the office and found to what I can describe as a soul-fleeting moment, my bagpack…it’s empty!!!! All my comfort toys are gone!!!! All forty of them!!!

Timmy’s P. O. V.

I hid in another restroom close to the one Hana went in, and felt a small tinge of regret when I hear her scream of horror…Nah, she’ll be fine…right? …I’m so gonna get grounded…A cold sweat fell from my covered forehead when I hear Hana’s stomping footsteps exit the office.

“YOU’RE DEAD, TIMOTHY!!!!!!” a loud Valkyrie shout boomed across the corridors.

…Yep, I’m grounded. So I stayed in the bathroom.

Hana’s P. O. V.

I was beyond mad at Timmy for not just opening my bagpack but for also touching AND HIDING MY TOYS THAT HAD SERVED COMFORT TO ME FOR A LONG TIME, ALL BECAUSE OF A COOKIE!!! I’ll kick his butt when I see him, but I kept my main objective: Find all 40 of my comfort toys before we leave, I can’t let Grandpa know because I want to hunt Timmy myself. I marched through the corridors, searching for atleast one of my toys.

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

Notes: End of Chapter 0 of A Pill In Time. This is a testing chapter to see if I can continue on writing this fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed as much as I enjoyed typing it; if you have any thoughts or suggestions, please let me know as I would want to make this chapter friendly and well-researched with no misinformation. Terms and Conditions apply.

#giftbox_treasures #ahit #a hat in time #ahit au #ahit fanfic #a pill in time #ahit hat kid #ahit Tim the CEO of Time #ahit Timmy #ahit cooking cat #mental health #mental disorder #mental ward #Mental Ward AU #autism #autism awareness

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maraskolnikova · 6 years

Text

“Somewhere in Northern Concord”: A Ficlet

Scene: The cast of “Little Women” assemble for a wardrobe fitting and “get to know your co-star” dinner in Concord Massachusetts...

Timmy waltzes into the room, headphones on, dancing

Timmy: “GG! Saorise! Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!” He runs up to them and gives them big hugs, smiles all around.

Saorise: “Pony! I’ve missed you so much” Saorise pats his head as though he were, in fact, a pony.

Greta: (frowning, concerned look on her face) “Timmy! Oh sweetie! You look so tired!”

Timmy: (furrowing his brow) “Tired? I’m not tired. I think maybe you mean I look older. Manlier?” He smiles, sweetly smug.

Greta: (giggling) “Oh...oh sweetie no that’s not it. I meant you look TIRED. Like little bags under your eyes. Like the sassy mouse from Cinderella!”

Timmy: “What? His name is Jaq by the way. No but, I mean...LOOK at me!” He pulls away from Greta and Saorise and does a slow turn. He gestures toward his face.

Saorise: (thinking intently) “Are you taller? Is that it? You grew an inch?”

Timmy: “What?! No! Actually, maybe. No like...” He removes the hoodie he’d been wearing and rolls up the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I mean, it’s obvious isn’t it?!?”

Greta: “Oh my God Tim sweetie! You’re so pale! Your vitamin D levels must be extremely low!”

Timmy: “Jesus Christ are you two for real!? Look at my arms! Look at my shoulders! Look at how muscular I am!”

Greta and Saorise exchange knowing looks and, unable to contain themselves any longer, burst out laughing.

Timmy: “What’s so funny? Why are you laughing? I gained 20 pounds! I DID! Stop it!”

Saorise: “Timmy, you’re fine the way you are. You look just lovely.” She reaches out to pet his head again, Tim shrinks from her touch.

Timmy: “Well my...(he raises his voice so others in the room can hear) GIRLFRIEND LILY says I look big and manly.”

Greta: (furrowing her brow) You have a girlfriend? Since when!?”

Saorise: “Who’s Lily?”

Timmy: “Lily Rose Depp? Hello! We did ‘The King’ together?? We fell in love on set. She’s Johnny Depp’s daughter. Face of Chanel? Is any of this ringing bells for you two?”

Greta: (tilting her head, scrutinizing Timmy) “Isn’t she like...a child?”

Saorise: “Isn’t she a teenager Timmy? Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

Timmy: (shaking his head) “No she is NOT a child actually, thank you she is 19. And no she does NOT have a boyfriend because I am her boyfriend and we’re VERY HAPPY and she thinks I’m REALLY manly and...commanding!”

Greta and Saorise exchange amused glances. They avert their gazes from Timmy and each other so as not to burst out laughing again.

Greta: (patronizingly) “That’s awesome Timmy. I’m so glad to hear you’re happy.”

Saorise: “Yeah that’s great Tim. We’re SO happy for you! Has ummm...has Armie met her?”

Timmy: (pleased but then annoyed) “Thank you I---Armie? What does Armie have to do with any of this? Do I need his approval? He is fiercely gesticulating now. Last I checked Armie is very much married and has two kids. Am I not allowed to have a girlfriend unless he picks her out for me? Huh!? Are you insinuating that he orchestrated this whole thing? Like he was all ‘Hey Timmy, I think you need to date someone, you know? It’s starting to look weird. But I think I have just the girl for you--you two have so much in common!’ And like I’m just doing this to please him for some reason and actually I’m really bored and unhappy. Hahah! Whaaaaat?! Omg, that’s so ridiculous! Hahaahah! No, that’s not it! What?!” There are beads of sweat on his forehead and he is blushing.

Saorise: “Pony, I just asked if your friend had met her, that’s all”

Timmy: (doing air quotes) “My *friend* Armie HAS met her, OBVIOUSLY! She was on the set of ‘Lone Ranger’ a lot, back in the day...”

Greta: (confused) “What like when she was 10? What the..”

Saorise: “Has he met her since she hit puberty?”

Timmy: (waving them off as though shooing a fly) “I can’t with you guys today. Just...enough. Anyway, Greta, what do you think of this?” He gives her a “smouldering” look and then tilts his head this way and that. He shows her his profile and then comes right up to her face.

Greta: “Jesus Tim! What am I supposed to be looking at here. Your cheekbones are protruding more than before...is that it? Sweetie you need to EAT!”

Timmy: (shakes his head in exasperation) “NOOOOooo!” He points to the general area of his mouth. “My moustache! For Laurie! Look at how full it’s gotten!”

Greta: (screwing up her face, squinting her eyes) “Oh Pony! Sweetie...it’s...aww!”

Saorise and Greta exchange looks and go “Awwwwwwww!” in unison.

Timmy: WHAT?! What’s that supposed to mean? Do you not like it?!

Saorise: It’s great Timmy. You’re really making some headway. How long have you been growing it out--a week?”

Timmy: “A week? What? No! Three weeks!”

Greta: (pointing at Tim) “That’s THREE WEEKS worth of hair growth?! Mwahahahhahahahhahah!”

Saorise and Greta are bent over laughing. They laugh so hard tears stream down their faces.

Greta: “No I can’t I CAN’T! Oh my God, Pony is such a man now!”

Saorise: “He’s so manly I actually feel threatened by his virility!”

Timmy is blushing furiously and tapping his foot.

Timmy: “Sooo...you don’t like it or...”

Greta goes up to Tim and gently puts her hands on his shoulders. She looks him in the eye lovingly.

Greta: “Sweetie, I really appreciate the effort. I do. I thank you for taking this role so seriously that you made this...this sacrifice” she makes a vague gesture toward his face “and grew this out. I do. It’s just...you can shave now.”

Timmy: “Wait...what?! Why? You seriously don’t like it?!?!”

Greta: (in a sweet, mothering tone) “Honey tea, it’s patchy as hell. Frankly, it’s hard to look at.”

Timmy: (Frowning and deflated he whispers) “It’s itchy and I don’t like it actually. I’ll shave it off right now.”

Greta: (stroking his cheek) “That’s a good boy. All it’s doing right now is making you look like the kitten from ‘Pinocchio’. Which actually, isn’t a bad thing but just not the look we were going for.”

Timmy: (confused) “There was a kitten in ‘Pinocchio’??”

Greta: (Her eyes turned toward the heavens.) “Oh my God Timmy, please don’t say things like that. It’s too upsetting for me.”

The END

#ficlet #flight of fancy #Little Women #Timothée Chalamet #Figaro #Jaq

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forever-fanfic-fanatic-blog · 5 years

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It’s always you - part 1

Pairing: Timothee Chalamet x reader Warnings: idk...cliche and really fluffy — It all started when he found out that you were going to be in the same movie as him. Y/n l/n. The breakout star from some insanely popular romantic comedy. After that, she started appearing in more stuff. She guess stared in Riverdale and is now in talks to be on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. “So what’s she like?” Timothee totally freaked out when he found out y/n was going to be in his next movie. “You’ve met her, Kiernan.” Kiernan sighs. This is the 1000th phone call she’s gotten on the subject. “I’ve met her twice. One of them was at an award show, and the other time was right after she was cast as my aunt’s goddaughter on CAOS. You probably know more about her than me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Timothee lies. “I know you have a little bit of a crush on her. You’ve watched everything she’s ever been in, and you’ve watched a lot of her interviews and you’ve called me a hundred times asking about her.” Kiernan then adds, “All I really know is that she’s smart, funny, but also serious when she needs to be. The main thing is she’s really down to earth.” Timothee nods even though Kiernan can’t see him. He could work with that, right? “Thanks.” “You’ll be fine. She’s a big fan of yours.” Kiernan admits. “She mentioned the movie we did together and I talked you up and she said she loved Call Me By Your Name and Beautiful Boy.” This was surprising to him. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Kiernan laughs slightly. “I wanted it all to be natural, but you’re so nervous I thought it might help to know. I think you guys would be really cute together.” Timothee sighs to himself. “I’m—I—“ he cuts himself off as he sees y/n approaching. “Need to go. She’s here.” “Okay, bye, good luck.” Timothee hangs up the phone as the director walks up with you. You’re smiling, laughing at something the director says. When you finally get there, Timothee feels like he can’t breathe. He awkwardly introduces himself. He mentally kicks himself as you introduce yourself. That was a little over a month ago. After the awkwardness, the two of you became fast friends. “Okay, y/n,” Timmy laughs, “Shut up.” “You’re so mean to me.” You mumble, crossing your arms. “I’m being bullied.” He rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at you from his spot in your trailer. It hits your shoulder. You over dramatically gasp before throwing it back at him. Only, this time, it smacks him in the face. He stands up quickly and runs towards you. On instinct, you run away. There isn’t anywhere to hide, so he catches you quickly. When he does, he starts tickling your sides. You burst into laughter and try to push him away. “Stop.” You laugh. Timothee stops when he notices what position the two of you are in. You’re laying down on the part of the trailer that’s kind of like a couch, know smaller. You’re basically pinned under him. You don’t notice what this position could look like—or mean—until he stops. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you stop?” Timmy stares at you, grinning with lovey eyes. “Hey.” You’re still trying to catch your breath from the laughing and the running and the...fighting. “Hi.” You notice his hair has fallen into his face. Without thinking, you reach up and brush it out of his face. Your hand lingers a bit. “Your hair was kind of in your face.” You explain slowly. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck. “Thanks.” With anyone else, this would be insanely boyfriend-y, but this is just how you and Timothee are. You smile to yourself and run a hand through his hair, then down the back of his neck, and then down his back. His shirt is a little crinkled, so soon enough your fingers are brushing against his bare skin. “Mm...keep going.” Timmy sighs teasingly. You roll your eyes and gently smack him. “I hate you.” He places a lazy kiss on your neck. “I hate you too.” You laugh a little and continue to rub his back. He sits up, frowning. You pout at the loss of contact. You sit up, too. “What’s wrong?” He can’t look at you. “It’s nothing...I just...” “You can tell me,” you prompt, taking his hand. He squeezes your hand gently. “Are things going to be weird after tomorrow? After that scene?” Oh. That scene. The scene where you two have sex. “No,” you say on instinct. “Let’s just not let it affect us.” His jaw twitches for a second. “Okay.” “If it makes you feel better I have two scenes like that tomorrow.” To you, it’s a joke, but Timothee’s body tenses. “You know how my character also likes Jack’s character? Well, we have a scene that’s kind of like that...just shorter and a little less intense.” Timmy frowns. “Oh.” “Yeah, they’re making me seem like a slut.” You giggle a little, unaware of the tension. You rest your head on his shoulder, he rests his head on yours. You’re both still holding hands. “Y/n?” Jack opens the door to your trailer. “You in here?” “Yeah,” you confirm, not moving from your position. As soon as you see Jack you jump up and give him a hug. He’s one of the main characters, but he doesn’t have as many scenes as you and Timothee and he’s in another show, so he left for a few weeks. “It’s been forever.” He hugs you back. “Yeah, and you’re back just in time. I missed you.” Timmy feels awkward, he wants to leave. Maybe he should...but instead he gets another idea. When you let go of Jack, he’s waiting for you. Timmy places one hand on your waist and offers his other hand to Jack. They shake hands and awkwardly greet each other. It’s no secret that they don’t like each other. “Hey, y/n/n,” Timmy mumbles, “you want to get that coffee we talked about?”

#Timothee Chalamet #Timothee Chalamet x reader #random #x reader #Timmy x reader #call me by your name

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hopevalley · 5 years

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S6E3: The Queen of Hearts (Episode Write-Up)

You can also read this on my website here.

Can you believe the next episode has come and gone already? Time sure flies. I’m typing this up from work, so please pardon me if you find any mistakes/errors/etc. I’ll try and proofread it as well as I can and add the pictures in when I get home, but…well, you know, time is money.

(Though I guess…if I’m typing this at work…it could be said that I’m being paid for my time…)

Last episode was pretty low-key: a nice entrance into the new season. This episode ramped things up a bit; there are quite a few threads of drama starting up already, and, well, we’ve only just begun.

So without further ado, let’s jump into it!

The Pedals on the Bike Go Round ‘n Round

Bill and Fiona vs. Lucas

Investing 101 ft. Henry

Carson ‘Foot in Mouth’ Shepherd

Clara Stanton Takes a Stand

Sorry in advance; I barely proofread this. :’)

Plot #1: The Pedals on the Bike Go Round ‘n Round

Elizabeth was kind of just…around in this episode. She didn’t do a whole lot and didn’t have too much to say. She did, however, get a plot. Kind of a weak one.

More or less the plot boiled down to “Elizabeth teaches Timmy how to ride a bike.” You may have forgotten who Timmy is, and if so, he’s Wilma’s son. Wilma, Kurt, and Timmy came in for the Christmas film in S4E1: When Calls the Heart Christmas.

On the positive side, the plot was fairly well-acted. I probably couldn’t pretend to need help riding a bicycle if my life depended on it, but you’ll notice in all the scenes where Timmy is ‘learning,’ his front tire/handlebars get kind of jittery—enough that it made me feel a little uncomfortable just watching! He did a great job with that.

Elizabeth did nicely enough plunking away at the piano pretending she was bad at it to try and help Timmy learn that learning is a process. There’s always someone out there who is better than you at something, but 1) that doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to do it, too, and 2) it’s okay to mess up, because that’s part of the process of learning!

Overall, a cute plot. I didn’t mind that it stayed in the background and wasn’t exactly center stage.

That said, I think I could have really gone for something a little less shallow? At the very least, it might have been nice to see Elizabeth ask Robert or Cody to borrow the bike at lunchtime. (I’m under the impression that they belong to them, and not the school.) Instead of Timmy having fallen on a random (?) bike and scraping up his knee, how about something with a little more substance?

Maybe his parents scraped up their hard-earned money to buy him a bike for his birthday because he’d been admiring Cody’s, but when he tried riding it in town, he faceplanted into a horse trough—something legitimately embarrassing! A few grown-ups laughed at the spectacle (even as they helped him up and made sure he was okay), making him afraid to fall in front of others again. But he really wants to learn because his parents worked hard to buy the bike for him…and they can’t teach him because they don’t know how to ride.

A short lesson on balance, and why it’s impossible to stay upright at a standstill (but very easy to stay upright in motion) could have been really fun, too.

And I think it might have been nice to see a few of the kids encouraging Timmy, or at least speaking with him about this. “Nobody’s watching” my foot! They’d definitely be paying attention, if only out of the corner of their eyes. Opal could say she’s too afraid to try, but if Timmy could learn maybe she wouldn’t be so afraid to learn, herself (something that could encourage Timmy to want to learn more); Cody and Robert could offer to help Timmy but their methods, while well-meaning, are a little too harsh. (Maybe they could be the reason Timmy fell into the trough.)

I wouldn’t have even minded someone fashioning Timmy some training wheels to try out! Maybe his internal balance isn’t very good and he could use the assist until he feels more comfortable (and then later in the season, in a couple of episodes, he could get the hang of it and it’d be super sweet). Then the moral of this story could be more about the process of learning and how learning new things takes time and effort (for some people different things take longer than others), and it’s okay if Cody learned in five seconds but it takes Timmy a few weeks to really get comfortable.

Still, I like what we got. Timmy hasn’t had much of a role in the series in the last couple of seasons, so it was nifty to see him getting something! And of course, Elizabeth got to help without it being too over-the-top, which I can really appreciate.

Plot #2: Bill and Fiona vs. Lucas

Overall, this plot wasn’t bad. I enjoyed Fiona and Lucas. There seems to be some tension between the two of them; there should be a pretty serious reason for this. The story flow doesn’t feel very natural without reasoning in place. Unfortunately this isn’t something I can talk at length about; it’s a wait-and-see sort of situation. It’s possible it’ll get addressed later, especially if Fiona is intended to stick around for most/all of the season.

But to explain what I mean about story flow and reasoning, though, it just doesn’t make sense to me that Fiona would care enough about this town to rat out Lucas to Bill—another complete stranger to her. Sure, Bill is the law, but it feels like there’s just a tiny bit of something missing between their meeting and Fiona immediately going to Bill about Lucas.

Now, it’s totally possible the writers weren’t going for anything deep. Maybe what we see is really what we’re getting: she’s a bit of a gossip à overhears that Bill is concerned à Bill is the law à then she overhears Lucas and thinks Bill’s root worry is legitimate and does The Right Thing (which is report her findings to him).

Bill might find the arrangement satisfactory for now, but it means nothing he says on the phone is private. I really appreciated that Bill brought this up in a very straightforward manner, e.g., “Doesn’t your company have a policy against that?” It still leaves it open for future issues, though.

Fiona’s gossipy tendencies don’t bother me at all. I think they make her a better character than some we’ve had; she’s not 100% wholesome and pure. I dig that. Right now I’m just wondering what about Lucas bothers her so much. Maybe she doesn’t like how smooth he is. Can’t say I blame her.

Lucas himself is a fun character. He’s suave as heck, he can laugh at himself, but he’s vaguely suspicious. Overall, I’d say he’s a smooth operator, a smart schemer. I really enjoyed his conversation with Elizabeth, but the one with Rosemary was awkward in…kind of a good way. I’m fine with getting characters who don’t say what they mean or even lie (without it obviously being a lie).

And so far, my favorite thing about Lucas is how he comes across to the various townfolk.

Some people really like him, think he’s sooo nice for doing these kind things…but then you have the people who are put off by his attempts at kindness. I can see both sides of it, and I know which side I’d be on! He seems like he might end up being a fairly complex character, which I’m really hoping for. Some people might view what he’s doing as a general kindness/attempt to look good right off the bat, but others feel he’s trying to buy affection/a good name; if things get bad, people will say he’s good and they trust him because he’s more or less paid them to feel that way. It’s got a lot of room for good stuff!

(I’m not sure how I feel about the saloon name change, but I think it’s weird that people don’t really care about it? That said, I’ve noticed they all call it “the saloon” so a name change doesn’t really matter. Meanwhile, Abigail’s Café is often referred to both by just “Abigail’s” and as “Abigail’s Café” so the distinction might matter a lot.)

Now...we’ve gotta talk about Bill.

I’m sure nobody really wants to hear more about how much I hate the way he’s been written lately, but just for the heck of it, I’ll dive in for a few paragraphs. My stance is thus: Bill is severely out of character and has been getting worse for the last two seasons. The things he does are cringey and out of character. I’m not sure if we’re supposed to laugh at him or wince at the things he says and does, but if this is intentional, I’m hoping they address it soon.

The most likely bit of reasoning might be the same reason Henry dove into the stock market: he’s restless, bored, feels useless, doesn’t know what to do with that energy. In Bill’s case that energy just comes out in these unconstructive ways: everyone is suspicious until proven otherwise. The judgeship plotline could take care of this, but obviously I don’t know that it will. It’s just a consideration/possibility.

The problem is, they started getting wobbly with Frank’s character in S4, too, with him snooping around on Carson. They’re more or less doing the same exact thing to Bill right now for no reason, so…it honestly seems like they just don’t know how to write him, and I don’t know how they can be at such a loss when they have 4 good seasons of Bill to look back on for character tidbits and plot ideas.

But seeing Bill devolve from a sharp investigator to little more than a joke in the last few episodes? It really grinds my gears. I can’t even enjoy the bits that are supposed to be funny, like when he told Lucas he’d pay for his own drink and then took his money back the second Lucas’s back was turned and let the bartender put it on the house. It’s not funny because that’s not something that Bill of S1 through S4 would even do. When someone refused to tip Abigail more than a few cents, Bill put his own money on the table to ensure she was tipped (five bucks, by the way!). He’s not stingy, he’s not stupid. He chased the same case for literal years of his life and did so quietly, so he’s also very patient. He wouldn’t have called that woman directly, he’d have contacted someone he knew to trace the location of the phone and the name of the household being billed for it. He has the know-how and the power, and he’d use the best way to get his information that he had available that wouldn’t also give him away.

I don’t know why they chose to do this with his character, but I definitely disagree with it.

That said, he has a reasonable enough reason to be suspicious of the man. After all, he’s seen everything. I’m just worried the narrative won’t be sympathetic toward him at all, and in the very end he’ll be wrong about everything and end up in an even worse place than where he started.

Plot #3: Investing 101, ft. Henry

Shockingly, I don’t have too much to say about this plot. It was nice. Henry has a hobby that feels exactly like the kind of thing Henry would do, so props there. I also quite enjoyed seeing Lee stick up for Henry more, and Abigail reluctantly coming around to the idea of investment being a little different than gambling (but honestly not by much).

Even though my stance on Henry and Abigail as a potential romantic end-game is a giant thumbs-down, I could really appreciate the whole plot. Henry lies, but it’s because he feels partially responsible for Abigail’s lost money.

Earlier this year I predicted that maybe he’d lose her money, but I didn’t think he’d lie about it and tell her she’d doubled it. That’s…a bit much. I want to say that that doesn’t sound much like Henry (I could see him giving back the original amount and saying he pulled it before it could go down), but at this point it’s fair to say he’d go a bit overboard because he doesn’t want Abigail to lose faith in him.

After all, he knows she’s the reason he got a second chance at all, and he definitely didn’t deserve that kindness from her; the last thing Henry wants to do right now is make her regret it. It’s a little sad but perfectly believable. It was nice of Abigail to straighten things out the way she did; she was very straightforward about it.

So hey, the air is cleared and we’ve learned that investing is a form of gambling, but not exactly the same thing? Huh.

Plot #4: Carson “Foot in Mouth” Shepherd

This plotline wasn’t deep enough that I feel the need to comment heavily on it, but I can appreciate a few small things about it.

First, it was really awesome that Carson went to Lee with his problem.

Sometimes I feel like this series does a pretty bad job of matching up conversationalists: people go to whoever the plot deems the best person to go to, and usually that person is part of the “main” cast and hasn’t had enough lines in the episode yet, so they get the part. Due to this, at times it feels like roles are just being filled by whatever actor is free to fill the spot. So it was nice to see this happen because Lee was definitely appropriate person to go to for this conversation. 1) He knew about Rosemary’s plan, 2) he seemed exasperated by Rosemary’s plan, and 3) he’s married currently so he understands and might be sympathetic to Carson’s little problem of, you know, putting his foot in his mouth.

One thing I wanted to see addressed that didn’t get addressed (because this show has people “fix” problems with weird dialogue choices) was the reason Carson said what he did. He probably said it because he didn’t want to put any pressure on Faith, or on himself. As he said later, they work together; it’s not a good idea to even consider it.

Now, I personally haven’t felt any real chemistry between these characters, like…at all, so I’m not really on #teaminfirmary, but I do think they show some promise. Right now my biggest criticism has been the lack of chemistry. For me, the doctor/nurse trope just doesn’t do it, not on its own. After Carson’s quick attraction to Sofia, I guess I was kinda wanting to see something spark between them!

But I liked Faith being the one who felt awkward after Carson put his foot in his mouth, and then she kind of took it out on him by being short and snippy. That feels pretty in-character for her to do.

I’m looking forward to seeing what they do with them in the future, though. Like I said, there’s potential there!

Plot #5: Clara Stanton Takes a Stand

Another small plot, but I like the drama baked into this one. Jesse’s always had some self-esteem issues, so it was pretty cool to see that coming back. He has a bad past, he just does okay for himself (not super well), he’s not smart or well educated. You know he thinks Clara’s just about too good for him… I mean, he wasn’t always that way; before she agreed to court him he acted pretty cocky. But he was probably acting that way because he didn’t think she’d really go for it. And then she said yes and he was like, “NOW WHAT?”

I don’t like that he tried to tell her what to do (and I’d argue the dialogue choice there could be a lot better), but it felt vaguely in character. I think I wish they’d gone more the “I should be providing for you” route. And the “you work hard enough” route. They skirted around those a little bit, but if they’d landed on them a little harder I think it’d be easier to swallow. But it was still kind of understandable. He already has issues with feeling like he’s good enough and this makes him feel that she thinks he can’t do it by himself.

I was hoping for a dialogue between them eventually about this (not Clara working two jobs, but Clara working at all after they’re married), but I think what they settled on is going to work really well, and hopefully open up the two of them to talk about their feelings a little more deeply—especially Jesse being more vulnerable with regards to his low self-esteem.

My favorite part was definitely Clara taking the job anyway and Jesse trying to kind of accept it, but we all know that’s not gonna work out. ;P I’m really looking forward to seeing what they do for these characters over the course of the season!

Overall? Another reasonably fun episode. I’m having a lot of fun with the new characters; I just hope they don’t throw Bill under the bus for the duration of the season. He’s got the potential to be one of the best characters on the show if they’d just take the time to give him decent storylines. But hey, maybe the good stuff is all coming soon for him. :)

#when calls the heart #Season 6 Spoilers #season 6 shenanigans

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camsthisky · 7 years

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Determined Ghosts

Part 1 | Part 2

ao3 | ff.net

Summary: A gala, supposed to be spent by eating cakes and wearing a pretty dress, goes wrong. But honestly? What doesn't in Steph's life? Still, they better figure this out before it's more than just Dick that's hurt.

Stephanie’s eating one of those tiny little cakes that absolutely is not enough in any way whatsoever when Tim walks into her line of sight, head craning this way and that over the crowd of people Bruce has invited into his home for yet another gala-party-thingamajig. And—dear god, the boy is short. He’s on his tip toes.

“Timmy, dearest,” Steph says, only a little bit mockingly, and Tim’s gaze snaps to hers, eyes wide and owlish, like he hadn’t even seen her standing next to the dessert table. Which. That’s not that worrying, considering that Tim works on like, less than two hours of sleep a night.

Maybe Steph can get Cass to arm wrestle Tim into going to sleep instead of patrol tonight. And she can casually suggest a movie night to Dick. Dick will jump on anything that involves family bonding time, and Tim’ll be out cold in no time.

“Steph?” he asks, and now he’s giving her a weird look, like he hadn’t even known she was here at the gala-party-thingamajig. Again, very possible. For a person who’s supposed to be one of the best detectives, Tim can miss the most obvious things. He blinks a couple times, seems to accept that she’s not some sleep deprived hallucination, and walks over to her. “Did you need something?”

“No,” Steph says, shoving the rest of the tiny—tiny. Steph is going to have words with Alfred later—cake into her mouth. She swallows and raises an eyebrow. “Did you need something?”

Tim shrugs, head swiveling to look out over the crowd again. “I’m looking for Dick.”

“He was over by Damian earlier,” Steph says. “I think the brat brought his sword, and Bruce refused to deal with it. By default, it was Dick’s problem.”

“No, I know that,” Tim says distractedly. “I was standing right there when Damian started swearing at Dick. It was hilarious.”

“Yeah, you sound like it really changed your world,” Steph snorts.

Tim wrinkles his nose. “That was almost an hour ago, Steph.”

“Mhmm,” Steph says, debating whether it’d be a good idea to stuff the brand new purse that Bruce had gotten her the other day with the entire plate of mini-cakes and how much she’d get yelled at if she was caught. “And?”

“I saw him after that, though,” Tim tells her, following her gaze. He rolls her eyes when he catches on to what she’s planning on doing. “You know you can literally have Alfred make you bigger portions later, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Timmy,” Steph says sweetly.

“It is not.”

“Is, too,” and then Steph finally makes her decision and starts grabbing a few of everything. Because if she’s going to stuff her purse, then she’s going to go all the way. Maybe Cass would be willing to share with her later. If not Cass, then definitely Dick. Speaking of, “Why are you looking for Dick, anyways?”

Tim blows out a heavy breath and sort of deflates, and it has enough umph to it that Steph stops raiding the dessert table to stare at him.

“Um,” she says.

Tim runs a hand down his face. “Sorry. It’s just—He went to go grab something from his room. Said it was important and just left.”

“And?” Steph prompts. “What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s been almost a half hour since I’ve seen him, Steph. And I’ve been around the room twice,” Tim tells her, and he leans back against a nearby pillar. He looks exhausted—well. More exhausted than usual, and Steph has half a mind to find Dick herself and tell him to tell Tim to stop worrying. And when he talks again, his voice is small. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Of course, it just so happens that that’s when the lights go out.

Steph drops her dessert-filled purse and grabs Tim’s hand, pulling him close. People start murmuring and muttering, and Steph has a feeling that Bruce’s gala-party-thingamajig has gone south real fast.

“Should we grab our uniforms?” she wonders, her voice soft enough that she’s sure only Tim hears her.

“No,” Tim says. “We don’t know if this is an attack or—”

The lights flicker. On, off. Someone screams bloody murder, and people start running for the exit as quick as they can. Someone shoulder checks Steph and she stumbles, but Tim tightens his hold on her hand and pulls her upright.

She whirls on him a second later, raising an eyebrow and shouting in order to be heard over the cacophony of panic, “You were saying?!”

“We still don’t—” He stumbles forward as someone bumps into him, too, but he stays on his feet. Pity. It’d have been funny to see him faceplant. Probably not the best time, though. He pulls her closer. “We still don’t know what’s going on!”

“Bruce?”

Tim nods. “Bruce.”

Somehow—holy shit, somehow—they make it through the throng of panicked people crowding the exits to the back of the room and over to where they can see Bruce standing with Damian, Cass, and the Commissioner. By the time they make it to them, most everyone is gone, and the lights are back to normal.

Dick’s nowhere to be found, though, and Tim and Steph share a look.

Bruce is staring at them. Steph knows that there’s no way he didn’t catch that, but he doesn’t comment on it. Yet, at least. Maybe it’s because the Commissioner is still standing there, or maybe it’s because they’ve got bigger things to worry about.

“Are you two alright?” he asks instead.

Tim nods and finally lets go of Steph’s hand, and she shakes it out, flexing it a few times, too. She hadn’t realized how hard Tim had been gripping it until he’d stopped, and she shoots him a concerned look he only grimaces at.

When she realizes that Bruce is still looking at her, waiting for her answer, she makes a face. “I’m fine, you big worrywart. Tim saved me from landing on my face, and I was disappointed by not seeing Tim land on his.”

“Hey!”

“I regret that it did not happen, as well,” Damian says, and he sounds seriously sad about it. Sheesh. Steph had forgotten that the brat had it out for Tim.

“Come at me and you’ll regret it,” Tim says, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Like you could take me down,” Damian scoffs.

Tim tenses, but backs off when Bruce clears his throat purposely, his eyes flashing dangerously. It’s so unsubtle and—God, after years, Steph still can’t believe Bruce Wayne can act like he does in public when all he seems to be is a big pile of brood and dad. She can see where Tim gets it from, at least. The brooding and acting part, not the dad part.

Next to Bruce, Jim Gordon sighs. “I’m going to see if I can round up a few of my men, Bruce,” he says. His rake over all of them, before they meet Bruce’s again. “I’ll be back soon, but it’s better that all of you stay together. Just in case.”

Bruce smiles, and Steph wonders if it’s painful for him. It certainly looks painful. “Thank you, Jim.”

And with that, the Commissioner’s gone, Bruce drops the smile, and it’s just the five of them standing there. Nobody says anything for a few seconds, and so Steph steps up. It’s like, her thing by now. She could probably major in it if she wanted to. She’s surrounded by so many emotionally stunted idiots that she’s got enough practical experience, after all.

Except Cass. Cass is great.

“So?” Steph says, folding her arms over her chest and raises her eyebrows. “Whatever’s happening, it better be good. I lost my dessert purse for this.”

Cass giggles, and Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Tim doesn’t react much, but Damian scowls at her in confusion. It’s great. So many different reactions in so few words. She should get an award.

“I don’t want to know,” Bruce tells her. “Did anyone see anything?”

“Dick disappeared,” Tim says.

Steph elbows Tim. “You don’t know that. All you said was that Dick left to get something from his room. And technically that’s not seeing anything.”

“It’s the lack of seeing something,” Tim argues.

“Grayson is probably playing a prank,” Damian says, a somewhat adorable scowl on his face and—good god, does this child not know how to smile? Did he inherit Bruce’s gene of feeling pain while smiling? Someone needs to teach Damian how to have fun, and soon.

Cass frowns. “I don’t think so.”

Well, Cass’s word is law, after all. At least, it is to Steph. It’s a rare occasion that Cass has been wrong—though, it has happened before, Steph’s sure. She just can’t remember—and Steph doesn’t think now is one of those times.

Damian’s scowl inches closer and closer to a worried frown. “Then where is he?”

“Kidnapped?” Tim suggests weakly.

Steph grimaces. Dick’s a slippery one, especially when it comes to kidnapping. He’s got acrobatic skills he can use in self-defense, curtesy of his circus roots, and it’s an advantage that none of the other kids really have.

Something shatters upstairs, and the five of them freeze. And then, before Steph realizes it, Tim’s darting for the stairs, the rest of them just a beat behind him. They stop at the top of the stairs, and Steph gapes at what she sees.

“I think that I’m going to be sick,” she says, staring in horror at the giant puddle of blood soaking into the carpet. “Like, someone find me a toilet to throw up in, kind of sick.”

“You’re not,” Cass tells her, and Steph sighs.

“I’m not,” she agrees, but she can’t take her eyes off of the puddle. “But that is still disturbing. I sleep here, Tim.”

“Yeah, but you don’t live here,” Tim says, and Steph manages to take her eyes away from the scene in front of her to glance at him. He looks pale, and he’s got that look in his eyes, where his thoughts are racing a mile minute. It’s a little disconcerting, actually.

“I sleep here enough that I basically live here,” Steph says.

“Enough,” Bruce says, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “Cassandra, go get Jim. As of right now, this is a crime scene until we rule out otherwise.”

Cass nods, and she’s just about to leave when Steph hears a voice from down the hall. She frowns because—that was from Dick’s room.

“You guys heard that, right?” Steph asks. “Because if you didn’t, I’m out. Outtie 5000. Good-freaking-bye. Stephanie Brown has left the building and isn’t coming back. All that jazz.”

“I heard it,” Bruce says. And Steph can only watch as he makes his way down the hall towards his son’s room, Damian and Tim not even hesitating—or arguing—before following after him.

Steph shares an uneasy glance with Cass and she bites her lip. “What do you think?”

Cass doesn’t speak for a moment, but then she nods her head in the direction the boys had gone, and Steph can’t help but deflate in disappointment. Just a little. This is a little different than being in uniform, and she’s not happy that she’s doing this in a short sparkly dress Cass had picked out for her.

Cass looks at ease, though, and Steph appreciates it when her best friend holds her hand and squeezes. Steph smiles back.

“Guess we should go watch their backs, huh?”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Cass replies, and Steph’s smile grows a bit more genuine.

“Right, right,” Steph breathes. And then they skirt around the puddle. “Well. Might as well get on with it, right? I can totally use my heels as a weapon, right? That’s somewhat socially acceptable? Actually, don’t answer that. If it comes down to it, I’m doing it anyways. Watch out, thugs, I’m armed and dangerous with heeled shoes, and I can attest that getting hit in the face with one really freaking hurts. So watch out for—”

Steph stutters to a stop, both physically and mentally. She’s standing in the doorway to Dick’s bedroom, but—but.

“What happened?” she whispers to Tim, who looks about as clued in as she does.

His wide eyes flick to her helplessly before they’re back on Bruce, who’s checking Dick’s pulse. Dick, as it turns out, has been passed out on the floor of his bedroom, blood oozing sluggishly from a cut on his forehead. Bruce is trying to gently rouse him, but besides the steady up-down motions of his chest as he breathes, Dick doesn’t move.

He’s dead to the world.

Steph shivers at the mental image that brings up.

Damian scoffs softly, and Steph glances over at him, watches as he watches Dick with worried, but angry eyes.

From somewhere else in the manor, there’s another crash, and the lights flicker again.

Bruce finally looks up, meeting each of their eyes in turn, and says, “There’s someone in the house.”

And yeah. Steph’s done.

#stephanie brown #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #camryn writes #halloweencontentwar #batfamcontentwar #determined ghosts

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