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nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

anything and everything

elide x lorcan, modern au, sick fic/domestic fluff, word count: 1874

The clock at the back of his classroom showed that there was two minutes left until lunch. The history teacher knew he’d lost his students three minutes ago, and tossed his printed copy of the PowerPoint onto his meticulously organised desk. “Alright, guys, I think that’s enough for today. Pack up and get out of here, yeah?”

The sounds of rustling paper and shuffling bags filled the room. Lorcan unplugged his laptop from the projector and clicked it off, pushing the cart back to its corner. He heard his grade twelves’ easy conversations and jokes as they filed out, bidding him good-bye.

“Bye, Mr. S,” Evangeline called, waving as she walked out, “thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Evangeline. Have a good day,” Lorcan replied. No one else was in his classroom, so he pushed in the chairs and picked up the stray pencils that had been left.

He slid his laptop into his bag and slung the leather strap over his shoulder. Lorcan left the blinds down from when they’d been drawn for the video he’d shown and flicked the lights off before he closed and locked the door.

His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked to the teacher’s lounge. Lorcan was the first there and he decided to call home, his phone in his back pocket.

As the phone rang, Lorcan grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit and rinsed it before he ate it.

His fiancée picked up after two rings and sounded even more congested and hoarse than she’d been in the morning, “Hello, love. How’s your day going?” Elide coughed loudly, the sound deep and from her chest, “I’m feeling so much better, honestly, baby. I think I’ll just pop in and teach my last few class–”

“Lee, you're sick. You'll collapse before you get to the front gate and you know it,” he said, nodding to Rowan, who walked in with Aelin and Lysandra. Nesryn couldn’t have been that far behind them.

Elide huffed, knowing he was right and hating it, “I’m not sick, I’m not even barfing! I’m just achy and I have a cough, I’m fine.”

“You have the flu, Elide. You do not have the energy to teach two classes - stay home.”

She muttered something and Lorcan could practically hear her eye roll. “Fine. I can do video calls anyway, bye-bye, L, love you!”

“That is not what I meant, Elide,” he protested, but Elide hung up. Lorcan sighed through his nose and put his phone in his pocket once more. The rest of the apple was gone in two bites.

From one of the tables, the blonde science teacher looked over at him, a bite of leftover risotto and pink salmon on her fork, “Was that our Ellie dear? How is she?”

“Stubborn and petty,” Lorcan grumbled in good nature. He tossed his apple core into the compost bin, “I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Please don’t call me if you need help.” His colleagues laughed mockingly at his inconsiderate remark and Lorcan smirked, saluting them as he walked out. “Bye, guys. Have a good day.” He walked down the hall, waving and nodding to students he recognised.

Lorcan passed two of his favourites, Luca and Evangeline. They stopped him to talk and they chatted about Luca’s upcoming debate and Evangeline’s English presentation. He wished them both luck and continued on, all but refusing to acknowledge any of his other colleagues. Lorcan didn’t have anything against them, save for a few, but he didn’t want to be dragged into a long conversation with them when his girl was home sick and miserable.

Outside, it was raining, but light enough that it was more of a mist than any noticeable precipitation. Lorcan got into their old Volkswagen Jetta - the car that Elide had saved for during her last year of high school to buy - and pulled out of the parking lot, going slowly around the meandering students and teachers alike.

Since he hadn’t eaten lunch yet and he had been dreading his tuna salad sandwich all day, Lorcan stopped by the local Blackbeak restaurant. He bought pierogies, borscht, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Knowing Elide loved them so, he added on an order of sweet, apple-filled piroshkis and sweet tea.

Luckily, the wait wasn’t long and he tipped them well when they handed him the containers in two plastic bags, including a tray for their tea. Lorcan carried their food back to the car and put it on the passenger seat, carefully fitting the cups of tea in the cup holders.

Lorcan got back in his seat and drove on, more slowly this time so the food would remain untouched. He’d tossed his phone onto the dash and it rang. He glanced over at it and saw Elide calling him. Since he was driving, Lorcan didn’t pick up and he would be home soon enough.

He came to a stop at a red light and looked over at the text she sent him.

princess: r u too busy to answer me cause ur with ur new WHORE.

princess: dont even come home tn im so over ur disrespectful ass. smh. 🙄. cant believe i ever trusted a MAN.

princess: bby im so hungry tell me what to get i cant decide 🥺 pls help me ill b so nice to uuuuuu ❤🖤🥰🥰😘

Lorcan laughed and shook his head, driving on home. He pulled up in front of their townhouse a mere five minutes later. Carefully, Lorcan balanced everything and locked the car. He walked through the front gate and up the stone pathway.

Somehow, he managed to carry everything and unlocked the front door. When he walked in, he heard someone’s long nails tapping across a laptop keyboard. Lorcan chuckled quietly and put his bags down. He hung up his jacket, put his keys in the silver dish next to Elide’s, and toed off his shoes.

Lorcan walked down the hallway and passed the staircase, putting their food on the kitchen counter. Then, he rolled up the sleeves of his wool sweater and white shirt. He walked upstairs, “Lee? You in bed?”

He passed their shared office and leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on his fiancée. Elide had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her dark hair pushed up in a messy bun. Her thick glasses were perched on the edge of her nose and when she looked up at him, Elide pushed them back up, “Oh, hi, love.” She looked back at her laptop and colour-coordinated lesson plan, still typing. “I didn’t know you were coming home, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Evidently I did because my fiancée refuses to rest,” he said, shoving off the door and walking in. She rolled her eyes and frowned. Lorcan walked around to her side and crouched, twisting her chair around, “Elide. You’re sick. Your students are not going to be affected if you take a day or two off, now please. Can you just get back in bed? For me?”

She clicked her tongue and sighed, “That’s cheating. You can’t say it’s for you when you know I’d do anything for you.”

Lorcan smirked and cupped her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone, “Just doing what I can.” He surveyed her, his eyes not missing a thing. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her eyes were tired. Her skin was paler and more pallid than usual, the only spot of colour on the tip of her nose. She was restraining herself, but Lorcan could see her shivering. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine.”

He arched a brow. Elide sighed through her nose and looked to the side.

“Fine. I feel like shit. I’m tired and I have a headache and I’m so, so tired,” she whispered, tipping herself forward and leaning into him. “I hated that you left this morning. I wanted to be with you and… and let you take care of me.”

Lorcan smiled softly and got to his feet, picking her up as well. Her head fell against his shoulder and he held her with one arm banded beneath her thighs. He cut off the camera and sent a bland message before signing out and turning it off. As he carried her out, Lorcan asked, “Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?”

Elide shook her head, “No… I was sleeping.”

“I got food. Blackbeak,” he told her, smiling when she gasped wondrously.

“O-m-giness.” Elide said softly, dancing her shoulders around. “You’re the best, baby. Did you get piroshki? The- the sweet one. With apple.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, pushing her hair back again. “And pierogies, tea, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Everything, even soup.”

“I love you so fuckin’ much, man,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Elide’s face was comfortably hidden in the crook of his neck. She could smell his cedar cologne, the lavender dryer ball on his sweater, and the sweetgrass he’d smudged with. “We should watch When Harry Met Sally.”

Lorcan huffed a laugh through his nose and kissed the side of her head, “Yeah. Sally’s a spaz.”

“And Harry’s an inconsiderate asshat,” Elide replied, squeezing her thighs around his hips.

They crossed through the door of their bedroom and Lorcan set her down on their bed. He left her be, letting her manoeuvre into her little nest of blankets, quilts, and a duvet.

He changed into sweatshorts and a hoodie with their university’s logo before going downstairs. On his way, he re-did his hair in some tiered, sloppy and loopy bun.

In the kitchen, he played some random song from his phone and bobbed his head as he served them both food.

Lorcan carried their plates and bowls back upstairs. Elide got up to help her when he got to their room. On the TV that opposited their bed showed the main menu of When Harry Met Sally. He laughed quietly and shook his head, sitting down beside her and getting comfortable.

Elide hummed delightedly and pressed play from her phone. She took the tea first and drank it quickly, suddenly ravenous. Lorcan passed her water and medicine. Elide took it and ate her beet soup, sans sour cream.

The movie played and Lorcan ate his pierogies, gently sipping on his own tea.

Done first, Elide put her dish to the side and leaned into him. She mouthed the lines, her eyes slowly falling shut. Lorcan grinned and finished the cabbage roll before easing out from under her and taking their things back downstairs.

He got her more citrus tea and went back upstairs. The flu-ridden woman woke up when he got in bed and resituated herself.

“I got the vaccine, baby,” Elide muttered, her arms wrapped around his neck, “and I’m still sick. I’m anti-vax now. They’re hoaxes.”

Lorcan sighed through his nose, still adoring her dramatics. “You can’t say that to your students, Lee. They believe anything.”

The chemistry teacher smacked his chest, “They arent dumb! They’re just…”

“Stupid,” Lorcan finished her sentence. “C’mon, I had a student who didn’t know Terrasen’s capital. He was born here, Elide.”

She snorted and hid her face in his neck. “I love you.”

“Forever and always, Lee.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them. omg.

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr

#cute cute cuties <3 #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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midnightsnyx · 4 years

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Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 3

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: all the stories i write usually have like 20 parts/chapters to them but im going to try to limit the amount this time haha. i guess it will depend on if you guys want more!! so comment and let me know :)

thanks for all the love on part 1 and 2!! <3

Part 3

13 weeks

You’re watching Matt reading through a few different pamphlets while the two of you are sitting in the waiting room. Your first appointment is today and if you are being honest, there was a part of you that didn’t believe he would actually show up despite being in Calgary and not having a game.

But he showed up fifteen minutes early at your apartment despite you telling him you were very capable of driving yourself but he insisted and you’re so used to him being a total jackass that you’ve decided to enjoy him being friendly and caring.

Not to mention he looks really hot today. You’re blaming that thought on the hormones though.

“You’re staring again.” He murmurs and you feel your cheeks heat up as you scramble to come up with an explanation.

“You have… dirt on your face.” You mumble, ignoring when he chuckles and shoves the pamphlets in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.” he says and you glare at him.

“Do you always have to be such an ass-” you begin to say but a voice cuts you off.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” The receptionist calls out and you take a deep breath before standing up and following her to the examination room.

You ignore the fluttering in your stomach when Matt takes your hand in his and squeezes it gently.

Stupid hormones.

You’ve only seen Matt show real emotions on the ice. You haven’t really seen him upset or angry off the ice. Granted, you hardly spent time with him until now but the point is that even through the tears in your eyes, you can see the tears in his.

As soon as you heard the fast little heartbeat and saw the sonogram of the baby growing inside you, you fell in love instantly. You weren’t really listening to anything the doctor said as she pointed out things but from the small amused smile on her face, you figured she knew.

Matt squeezes your hand again and brings it up to his lips, not kissing it, but resting them there.

“Wow.” He whispers and you nod in agreement although wow hardly covers it.

The doctor gives you a few instructions and prints off two copies of the ultrasound for you and Matthew and then prints off extra for Brady, Becca, Taryn and his parents.

As the two of you are leaving, your phone dings and you see a text from Chantal. Matt peaks at your phone and frowns.

“You talk to my mom?”

“Yeah,” you say aimlessly, unlocking your phone to check the text and letting Matt take your hand and guide you outside.

Chantal: how did the appointment go? send a pic of the sonogram :-)

“What do you guys talk about?” Matt asks and you shrug.

“Pregnancy stuff.” You tell him, raising an eyebrow when he opens the car door for you but not commenting. When he climbs in the drivers seat, he looks at you and frowns again.

“You can talk to me about pregnancy stuff.”

You give him a dry look. “Did you birth three children?”

“No?”

“Then you don’t understand.”

He looks confused but huffs and starts his car. When he starts driving in the opposite direction of your apartment, you look at him in question.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

You debate arguing with him until he tells you but you rest your head back instead, letting your eyes fall closed and drifting off.

“Oh my God, I love you.” You mumble around a mouthful of a double cheeseburger with extra pickles. You were surprised when he knew what your new order was without asking.

You don’t notice the Matt’s face turning a light shade of pink, too invested in the McDonald’s meal in front of you.

“I can give you and that burger a minute if you want?” He jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Seriously, thank you.” You say quietly after you finish chewing and swallowing you food. “You didn’t have to. I know you’re probably busy.”

“Never too busy for you.” He says easily and your eyes widen at his confession. When he realizes you’ve stopped eating and are staring at him, he clears his throat.

“I do have plans tonight though, so we should leave soon.”

“Right.” You say, clearing away the food and standing up. “Anything fun?” You ask, following him outside.

He shrugs and gives you a vague answer that makes your stomach twist. “Dinner with a friend.”

“Oh.”

Maybe it’s a date, you think to yourself, face falling. It wouldn’t surprise you. He’s single, good looking and you’re sure Calgary is full of girls who would love to date him.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two of you during the drive back to your apartment and you hate it.

The look on Y/N’s face haunts Matt after he drops her off. He could have easily told her it was only Johnny he was getting dinner with but then he would have to explain why he was going to dinner with him and that would just create a whole other mess.

But she just looked so dejected when he cut their day short and said he was going to dinner with a friend that it made him want to cancel on Johnny all together but there was an important conversation he had to have with his teammate.

Dinner was set for seven so he takes a quick nap before getting ready. His dad calls and asks how the appointment went and how Y/N is. He knows that his parents are disappointed but he can tell they’re starting to become more excited.

“Did anything happen between you two today?” His dad asks lightly and Matt frowns.

“What do you mean?”

Keith just hums nonchalantly. “Your mom mentioned she seemed a little down when they were chatting earlier.”

Matt idly wonders how often his mom talks to Y/N and if they chat about more then pregnancy things.

“Nothing happened.”

“If you say so, son.” Keith says before bidding goodbye to Matt.

He doesn’t have time to wonder why his parents think that something happened or he’ll be late for dinner so he finishes getting ready and leaves for the restaurant.

“So what did you want to tell me?” Johnny asks, shoveling food in his mouth whereas Matthew hasn’t touched his, too nervous for his friends reaction.

“Uh, you know Y/N, right?” Matt asks before he realizes how stupid of a question it was because she’s literally Johnny’s best friend.

“Yeah…” his teammate answers slowly. “Did you hit your head or something?”

Matt cringes. “Sorry. That was-”

“A dumb question.” Johnny jokes. “Why are you asking me that?”

Because I knocked up your best friend, that’s why.

He figures that answer might get him knocked out so he tries to go for the same approach he did with his father.

“She’s pregnant.” Matt says just as Johnny is taking a sip from his water.

Despite being in one of the fancier restaurants in the city, his friend didn’t try to hold in the water in his mouth and it sprayed directly in to Matthew’s face.

“What the hell? Why didn’t she tell me? Better question, why did she tell-” Johnny’s eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“You didn’t.”

Matt winces. “This feels a lot like the conversation with my dad.”

“You did not knock up my best friend.”

“It wasn’t-”

“I want to punch you so badly right now.”

“Yeah… that’s why I chose to tell you at a restaurant instead of your apartment.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #Matthew Tkachuk #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton

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thedumbguywithaheart43 · 3 years

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BoomLords weird adventure

Chapter 5 reluctant companions

Rairty spoke up."excuse me darling what is the crazy stallion saying?"Twilight was spaced out for a moment trying to process what she had just done. Apon realizing Rairty was speaking she snapped back to reality."what oh Rairty. Sorry uh he was talking about me helping him to uh shit"She blinked, wincing as she couldn't get the thought of what she had just done out of her head. She didn't intend to create Rose fire in fact in that moment she had wanted to kill him to render the flesh from his bone, it was as if another creature had entered her head for a moment and fueled her rage."I think I have to go with him."before she could explain why."WHAT ARE YOU TAKING ABOUT HE JUST MESSED WITH YOU AND THE PRINCESSES HEADS!"rainbow yelled."I merely showed them what they wanted to know however to be honest I didn't expect this to happen. I had been looking for the rose fire in every world every terrifying, every cruel, and every unforgiving place in the Omniverse. But it turns out all I had to do was accidentally induced fear and rage into a horse."the pony stared at him for a moment."He's telling the truth and now that we know what's at stake we have no choice but to help."Celestia stated her tone was dark however as if she was doing something she wasn't so sure she wanted to."h-how long until it happens?"Boom and Celestia stared at each other for a moment. It was clear Boom really didn't want to answer this."could be days could be another year time works differently for me but if I had to give a rough estimate maybe a year or two or less."Celestia took a gulp of air as she looked to her fellow ponies. She looked as if she was holding back tears."my little ponies I ask no I beg you all to go with him this is no longer a matter in my control and I cannot force you to partake in this. What he is asking is dangerous beyond anything any of you have ever faced and while he may only require Twilight I would never send my student alone into what I was shown."this time no one spoke not even dash because when princess Celestia tells you shits about to go down it's going to go fuckin down. And in unison without hesitation without regret without fear all the ponies and Spike responded"were in!"boom looked at the group of ponies a look of discontent on his face."fuckin great I'm babysitting a whole party."most of the ponies ignored what he said with the exception of rainbow dash and Applejack."hey no one asked you"dash got in his face while AJ got close next to her."yeah that's right and don't think we're going to take our eyes off you for a minute partner. Not after what you just pulled.

2 spike walked over to the stallion cautiously"so how are we leaving? I mean you said we had to leave."well you see that's why I'm going to need my notepad and Pen also my satchel if you don't mind."a look of confusion re-entered the faces of everyone."oooo are you gonna draw us amagical portal to another dimension?"pinky blurted out as a few of the others started to chuckle."actually that's a pretty accurate assessment of what I'm about to do, in fact spot on."Twilights jaw nearly dropped as BoomLord began scribbling on the paper. Boomlord had drawn a nearly perfect circle on a piece of the notepads paper and in the center of it wrote the words, °home space°as he took the pen off the paper another electric golden ring started to form, the area within beginning to blacken about 10 ft away."okay everybody we're about to leave but don't worry I can send us back to this exact point in time give or take a few minutes so while we may be gone for who knows how long to the princesses it will only be a couple minutes."Boom that hope this comment would calm them however they're confusion only broaden. 'God how are they going to react when they all change'

3 boom was the first to enter the portal then Twilight followed by Pinky, rainbow,Applejack, rarity Fluttershy, and lastly young Spike. Boomlord looked down at himself. He was human again his blue jeans and thick yellow hoodie once again with him. Pulling back the sleeve he saw that the green fur that once covered his body was gone replaced with his light taned skin. Okay I hope everybody's ready for some exposition and descriptions. Boomlord looked back at the ponies first up was Twilight she had grown into a human form unsurprisingly. Her mane or I guess her hair had stayed the same she had fairly pale white skin and a few smalls freckles adorning her face she was also fairly short compared to Boom. Boom knew his height was about 5'7 give or take so Twilight had to be about 5'4 or 5'3 she wore a purple t-shirt and a darker purple skirt with pants to go with it all put together with very nice sneakers which all the girls have with the exception of rarity and Applejack. Pinky on the overhand was definitely much taller than Twilight in fact she was about the same height as boom. She wore a striped blue and pink shirt with a polka dot skirt and light pink leggings she had average white skin no major tan or anything although she did have pink nail polish on. Dash was next she still had her rainbow hair but she was on the shorter end with Twilight only being a inch or so taller along with fairly tanned skin as if she's been spending her days at the beach. She wore a plain blue sleeveless top and jean shorts her wings were also noticeably missing the same with Fluttershy. Speaking of Fluttershy her outfit was rather green she wore a green t-shirt with a yellow peace symbol on it and long jeans. Additionally in her hair she had is a flower crown witch she probably took off, besides that her skin was also fairly tanned. Applejack definitely took the show with her outfit she was wearing thick brown leather gloves and a brown leather vest with tassels on it. Underneath the vest was a plain white shirt covered in bits of brown dirt, and long stylish cowboy print jeans and good old-fashioned cowgirl boots. Applejack skin was also the most tanned being she was definitely the one who spent the most time outdoors. Also she and rainbow dash were the only ones with noticeable er muscle growth as even through their outfits they still kept their physical physique. Applejack and Fluttershy we're definitely the tallest of the group with Fluttershy being 5'8 and Applejack being at least 6'2.Lastly of the girls we have rarity wearing a clean white shirt with stylish blue diamond print in it, and a rather long dress to accompany it. Along her neck was a rather lovely diamond necklace and alot Lower down beautiful high heels. She also had the darkness pigment of her skin when compared to everyone else. Also sorry if that's not politically correct I'm not entirely sure what the correct term is now. Do feel free to let me know. As soon as the girls walk through the portal though most of them with the exception of Twilight who seemed almost familiar with the sensation of walking on two legs fell to the ground."oh no whats happing?"Pinky yelled and she started crawling on all fours along with Fluttershy. Dash and Applejack were occupied with balancing themselves on a desk next to them and rarity had somehow crawled her way to a sofa and dramatically pose."oh darling what has happened to us?"boomlord rolled his eyes as he knew he was going to have to teach them how to be human it also occurred to him where the hell was spike.

4 Then he saw it or well him. Unlike his fellow ponies Spike didn't turn into a human and no he did not turn into a dog. This isn't Equestria girls guys turning into a dog is really dumb and I already have one in the story. Spike's body had remained reptilian however he's noticeably taller now at least about Twilights size inner current form his body seemed to get longer and his claws along with it. His face has narrowed Abit becoming far more similar to his dragon freinds with the exception that he had a much longer neck which allowed him to survey his own body. Put it simply he looks more like what a small dragon would look like in our world if they existed."woah I look really cool!"spike yelled in excitement."ponies don't talk where I'm from so the portal has adjusted your body's to something a bit more familiar to me that I have set and in Spike's case I already had something in mind for dragons." Ponies now began to look around their surroundings. They notice they seemed to be in a rather decent sized living room a few desks a television ,yellow rug, a few lamps. The room seemed mostly normal only the walls and floor and ceiling all looked the same. It looks like the inside of a treehouse and where there was a window there was no... Well anything just an empty void."welcome to my home away from home a little place I made outside of the Omniverse and what I like to call free space, basically this entire place is an extension of a thought everything here with the exception of a few items were made from nothing. No magic and no magical effects can be taken here with the exception of the notepad so sorry girls but your wings and horns are temporarily unavailable don't worry when we go to other worlds you should be able to use them."Twilight rapidly blinked as she didn't expect well boom to look rather nice. He still had rather unkempt hair and the rings under the eyes but here the black in his eyes were gone however his irises remained red and gold. He had a warm smile or a warm fake smile and while definitely wasn't the biggest guy around he still had a rather fit physique. And the rarity was the first to comment on that"oh boom darling you look um..... Better than I would have thought."boom roll his eyes."well im far more comfortable like this."the girls who were having trouble standing took a few minutes to themselves to start copying the motions of Twilight who began pacing."uh hey are we safe here."like asked while moving around the girls who were rather surprised to see him as they did not expect such a change."spike looking badass today."rainbow dash teased.spike blushed slight as Boomlord spoke."well girls work going to have to set some ground rules since it looks like you'll be staying with me for a while."

(Oh one more thing because I know you're all wondering or at least some of you are wondering.

Breasts size from largest to smallest :Applejack dd followed by pinkie and Fluttershy then Rairty.twlight has the average size and rainbow dash is flat but that doesn't make her any less of a woman)

(not sure why I felt the need to put that there but I feel like some people just had to know)

#fanfic #mlp #writing #comedy #slightly saucy

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wavbleu · 3 years

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So stereotypical- jacob elordi

No warnings or tags

____________________________________

I jumped into a high toe touch waving my green and yellow pom-poms in the air, yelling at the top of my lungs "Go leopards go!" , they were a few points away from winning the game.

The crowd grew in volume as the team worked there way to the touchdown line.

The stadium went silent and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, everyone was on the edge of there seats, watching the one football player, #25 make his way to the touchdown line, i began to bite my fingernails. We needed to win this game.

Thats when he scored the touchdown, the leopard allies went wild, people were ringing bells and the football players were doing chest bumps. Another L for the Lions.

I clapped my pom-poms and did a back flip, cheering with joy.

After a few minutes of celebration people began to leave, that was my cue.

"Come on girls, back to the locker rooms." I said to my fellow cheermates, the all followed me in a single filed order, back to the locker rooms to change.

(tiny time skip)

It was pretty dark, 11:00 pm to be exact, It was an away game and when you have busy parents they will never be able to show, so i have to drive myself. I always had a strange feeling in my guts when it came to walking in dark parking lots but like hey woman things.

I opened my car door and threw my cheer bag in the passenger seat, thats when i heard a voice call for me, i turned around and saw Jacob, the head of the football team, "#25" he was sitting in the back of his truck, drinking a beer.

Jacobs P.O.V

_________________________________

"Hey." I called out to the pretty girl, she turned her head and looked at me, her eyes widened and her expression grew confused. "Yea I'm talking to you." I would give her a light smirk assuring her that im not some crazy person.

"Hi Jacob." She would come up to me giving me a light smile, "Want a beer? I know your tired" I offered her a beer, "Oh no , I dont drink beer." She waved her hand at it in disapproval.

"I have White Claw if that suits your interest, Princess." A cute, angry face grew, "Im not a princess." I nodded sarcastically and laughed.

She took a seat next to me, snatching the White claw from my hand, I chuckled. "Nice game today." She nudged my elbow "Thanks" i say. The silence was killing me softly.

She then popped open the drink, it let out a loud "szzz" until some of it spilled on her sweatpants and shirt. "Shit." She mumbled frustrated.

We both went to grab the towel, making our hands meet, "Sorry." I apologize, beginning to blush, her hand felt like silk and was small and cute, i could fiddle with her fingers all day. She started to wipe off her hands and her pants and shirt, drying it of the liquids.

"I dont think i really remember your name." I question her, "Was it Y/n" i say with a questionable tone in my voice, she then nodded and gave me a smirk.

"Oh yea! Your in my chemistry class! i copy off your work all the time." I giggle, "Well i suck in that class so good luck." She stated with a small chuckle.

"But you always get good grades in that class, i dont understand." I commented, "I have my ways." she went to sip her drink.

My mind began to ponder, what the fuck does she do to maintain a 95+ thats when it hit, "Oh my god do you suck the teachers dick?" I scrunched my nose in disgust, our chemistry teacher was old and grainy, his dick must be old and shriveled up to. "NO, My parents are very good with there words.." She claimed.

I didn't buy it, not for a second. "You liar you deep throat his dick every day just to keep a good grade." I snapped at her, " And so what if i fucking did, its working aye!" She argued back.

feisty, i like her.

"I already told you my parents are lawyers and lawyers have a great way with there words." she recited, "Okay." I chuckled, finishing off my beer.

The silence grew again.

I glanced at her and examined her body a bit she was shivering and her cheeks were red, the wind blew cold air right at her and her tiny body couldn't take it .

"Here" I turned behind me and grabbed the large blue fleece blanket, wrapping it around her. "Aren't you cold?" She says in a worried tone, i looked her deep into her big eyes, they were full of worry and care.

"Ill be fine." continuing to take another sip of my second beer I was actually really cold but i didn't want to invade her personal space or force myself onto her, The last thing i wanted was for her to become uncomfortable around me.

"You should go easy on those." she said taking the bottle from me. "You need to stay sober and drive."

I loved how she tried to make it seem like she didn't care but she actually cares, a-lot, she reminds me of.. me.

I tried to hide my shivers but that failed tremendously, "Dude just take the blanket with me." She said opening her arms.

I scooted into her arms and she attempted to put the blanket over me, i was twice her size , it was cute watching her throw the blanket over my shoulder repeatedly.

"How about we lay down instead." I said with a light chuckle, "Please." she insisted.

We laid on the back of the truck looking at the beautiful stars in the sky, it was like those teenage indie movies but better acting.

"Even though we just had our proper introduction, i really like you, i can kinda see myself through you." I said in a sincere and empathetic tone.

She turned to me and looked at me with those beautiful eyes, i stared right back at her, "You make me feel safe." her glance went down to my lips then back at my eyes.

The moonlight hit her skin, making it glitter and glow, her lips were pink and plump and kissable, her hair was as soft as silk. Her eyes were dark and full of mystery.

I couldn't resist not kissing her, it was a small smooch before i pulled back. Hoping she would consent to it.

She swiftly leaned in for a longer, more intense and passionate kiss, who knew i would kiss a girl i barely knew for atleast an hour, but at the same time it felt like we have been talking for years before.

I began to tower myself over her, the pace of the kiss quickening, i lightly grabbed her neck and began to kiss around her ears, she let out a light, and sexy moan.

"Do you want me to slow down?" i say with heavy breaths following, "No." she says , attaching her rosy and sweet lips back onto mines.

I lowered my grip down to her full, breasts.

"Please~" she softly begged with a neck roll, the need was filling her up fastly, to keep up I took off the great sweatshirt she had on, revealing her perfect boobs, covered with a dark green laced bra.

We were really about to have sex in a empty parking lot in the back of a black truck, with no regards.

I went behind her and detached the bra with 1 hand, letting it come lose, I connected my mouth to one of her boobs, she let out a whimper as i plastered bright red hickeys all around it.

"Are you a virgin?" I ask, unbuckling my pants. She nods her head no, i give her a mischievous smirk before i tower myself over her again.

I smoothly slid down her pants, following her panties, she gave my sexy and hungry stare which made me even harder.

I threw the blanket over us for some.. privacy, then i slid into her, she let out a gasp at my size. I felt her hands dig into my back as she moaned into my ear, every stroke i gave her.

I began picking up speed, I grabbed her neck with a tight grip and whispered dirty things into her ear, "You feel that baby?" I say sitting up, holding her legs open, i could feel her wanting to close them from embarrassment of how much she enjoyed it, but i held them wide open. She whimpered as she felt like she had no control.

I pressed onto her pelvis area, i could almost feel my dick inside of her.

While she was in a vulnerable position i took the chance to start rubbing her sensitive clit with my thumb, Her breath hitched at the pain so pleasurable.

I pulled out then flipped her around in a swift motion, she let out a squeal from being so startled.

I slapped her bare ass, it jiggled and left a bright red hand print on it in response. I slowly re-entered myself back into her tight insides. I put my hands on her waist to arch her back, giving me a deeper thrust right onto her g-spot, the sound of her cheeks clapping and her screams filled the air.

"Fuck me!~" She would yell in a deeper more erotic tone, I could tell and feel that she was close to cumming. Her insides tightened, perfectly hugging itself around my cock.

"Im gonna-" She said before abruptly stopping herself from throwing her ass back onto me, her legs began shaking and her whole body was trembling "Fuuc-" She said with a gasp, i smirked mischievously as i watched her turn into a slutty mess.

I slowed down for a bit to make sure she didn't get over-stimulated, allowing herself to calm down so we could continue.

I lifted her by her throat, sliding my two long fingers down her throat making her gag, "Suck." i would forcefully demand, she obeyed.

I started to pick up speed once again, i was getting closer to my breaking point. She could tell because she began tightening herself onto me, I couldn't take it any more, I put her back on all fours then grabbed onto her waist again, beginning to pound her into oblivion.

"Fuck!" I would grunt as she squirted all over me, My thrusts became unbelievably sloppy, "Cum in me~" She would politely ask.

After a few more deep and rough pounds i unleashed all of my creamy cum into her, I could barely breathe from the pain of that, but it felt so amazing.

I pulled out of her the juices dripped all over the back of the truck. Tired, I hunched over her, laying my head on her back, trying to catch a breather from what we just did.

____________________________________

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vicky-shitposts · 3 years

Text

struggles of a trans girl

28 Feb 2021,

think ive fixed my sleeping pattern, managed to wake up two minutes before my alarm today. had some coffee and cashews for breakfast while watching more Outnumbered, but that proved difficult thanks to tech issues. i got through two episodes by the stroke of something on my side (for once). ive decided im gunna stop attaching photos to my daily "diary" posts, and not focus so much on giving them all titles. it's been fun to do so for almost a month straight and ive built up a good bank of photos thanks to it. im looking forward to next month though, im gunna have so much new music to write about: St Vincent, Rob Zombie, Emma Blackery, Gary Numan and hopefully Lorde too. might have to create a whole new chapter just dedicated to reviewing and talking about their new music, but we'll see how thinga go.

so many people have said so many things about me recently. i've been called pretty, queen, a sex icon, a creative genius and "the most fabulous depressed, vampiric, 150* year old, gaytastic, academic superstar there ever was". but it's funny because to me, most of what they say really are just things. it's gotten to that point where i don't like looking at myself again, and the only times ive taken photos of myself recently were for my album - even then they were all in black and white with barely any lighting and a lot of editing. it's really nice that a lot of people see me as a woman and forget im trans, but on the other hand, it makes all those "learn to love yourself" comments and ideas so much harder. how can i love myself when i look down or in a mirror and see a thing looking back at me, rather than the woman i feel i am inside?? it's not like i can go out, buy a cute set of underwear and take photos to empower myself or make myself feel more confident. that's not how it works with my body. recently i've been thinking a lot about how the weight of a guy is distributed differently to a girl, so my belly just goes out whereas a girl has so many different places for her fat to go. boobs, hips, bum whereas i just get more three dimensional; i hate it and it just makes me hate myself and look down on myself more.

spent 50p today on freeprints because i was offered 45 free photos this month and only had to pay postage, which was reduced by £1.50 which i really cannot complain about. i chose to print out photos of REG and some of myself, from the Inner Mechanisms album cover sessions. i wish i had a few fans so i could get a gold sharpie, sign them and send them out. imagine being a pin up on somebodies wall; imagine having somebody listen to your music to help them get through their life and struggles. that's why i make the music i do, often cited as "depressing". one girl told me she did used to listen to my music to help get her through, but i don't know if i truly believe her or not. i don't even believe people fully when they say they like a song that i've shown them, or when they say the song is good. i am riddled with so much doubt and disbelief.

THE BARD HATH ARRIVE!! my copy of othello is here, and the cover has a lot of yellow to it, so im thinking of wearing yellow in my next english class to color coordinate my outfit with the cover of my book. yes i really am that pretentious and over the top. managed to finish series 4 of Outnumbered now, but watching it has made me so broody and emotional. all i can really think of and about is having my own children and imagining what i would be like as a parent. plus seeing the photo of them all grown up on iplayer made me well up with tears - which is probably my attachment to fictional characters and families resurfacing - but they grow up so fast. mother also had her first covid vaccine shot today and so far she's all well and healthy. fingers crossed she doesn't get flu like symptoms.

we got a new shower head the other day, and when i was using it (innocently) i came to the conclusion that a woman's orgasm is only as good as her shower head - but then again, i don't have a vagina to make an accurate judgement. i did shave my legs however, and they feel so smooth; i am baby and i feel like baby. i can also tell i've watched too much Outnumbered because while i was making my dinner, my personality was basically a replica of Pete mixed with Ben but with a lot more bad language. i didn't expect to start picking up the personality of people from Outnumbered at all, but it does give me an excuse to watch Withnail & I again this month to get back in touch with my inner Withnail. last year i ordered a scarf and it's come in very handy because it's like the one Withnail wears in the film. i had so much fun last night annoying people with my quoting the film in snapchat videos again.

*i am in fact 423 years old, my friend who was saying it to me forgot my age.

#trans #trans girl #goth #goth girl #aesthetic #dark #photography #dark academia #diary #diary entry #black and white #be gay do crime

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xonxsm · 4 years

Text

pastel || bnha x male! reader

---》three《---

where [m/n] and friends battle against buff ugly lookin doods, and [m/n] finds a (possible) new power.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[m/n] sighed contently as he sat back into his seat comfortably, making sure to keep a distance from the ice prince sitting next to him. he turned the brightness of his phone darker as he tuned out the voices of his classmates, searching up collar designs.

i want it, i get it. ooh, this one looks nice- nevermind. weird having the 'thot' word printed on my collar-

wow, how did i end up with bdsm pics when i searched for dog collars? damn people be putting weird things on the internet-

meanwhile, todoroki was sweating, lightly blushing and nervously shuffling in his seat after seeing the nudes and collars on [m/n]'s phone. didn't know he was into that shi- kinky though, maybe we can hookup or somethin-

and they had a one night stand. the end.

jk, todoroki saw nothing.

[m/n] came across an [f/c] collar that claimed to be both fireproof and waterproof, and not easily breakable. it was plain, but it came with accessories and some decorating kit. eh, i'll probably be too lazy to alter anything about it-

he pressed the add to cart button anyways. no harm, hehe- i can always buy another one if i don't like it-

quickly paying for the collar, he shut his phone off as he quietly listened in to his classmates' conversation.

"in terms of flashy quirks- i'd say bakugou's and todoroki's, no?"

toedowroeki? bakoogoe? who?

"but with bakugou's personality i don't think he will be that popular, if you know what i mean." a girl said with a finger on her mouth.

oh- bakugo = boomboom boy! can't believe i forgot. (-w-) bakuboom boom yes. but who is this toedoroekie guy?

"bitch, you wanna fight?" bakuboom stood up quickly with an irk mark, clenching his fists.

"see?"

（o。o）he's gonna blow up the whole bus and we're all gon die if he gets any angrier- looking over to the bi-coloured haired boy he deadpanned. how is he sleeping through all this shouting and such-

"we've barely known each other for a week but we can already tell your personality is worse than trash drenched in dog shit. that says something, no?" just as bakugou was about to throw another insult back at kaminari aizawa shushed them, informing that they were about to arrive.

getting off the bus they were greeted by thirteen, another pro hero. [m/n] looked around confused to where all might was, but shrugged it off as he listened to thirteen's speech about usj and the importance of rescue. they followed thirteen inside, with an excited kirishima marvelling about the huge place and thirteen proudly saying about how they had every rescue situation they could think of.

the lights flickered and the exit door shut once thirteen stopped talking. [m/n] quickly hid behind a certain buff dude with a bunch of arms, his tail and ears slightly shaking. confused muttering filled the small group. flashes of some dark void thingy had chills run up [m/n]'s spine. a dark mist started forming and that triggered [m/n]'s animal instincts- he got on all fours as [h/c] hair started growing on his arms, his hands mutating to form paws and claws. weird looking people started emerging from the mist and he slightly growled, feeling a little self-conscious of the weird glances his classmates gave him.

what? c'mon, don't tell me you haven't seen or heard a dog growl before in your whole life-

"students, stay back. thirteen, protect everyone!" aizawa ordered. [m/n] was itching to run up there and start slashing but for the sake of his teacher he stepped back, sitting on the floor. like a normal person.

"we've come to finally defeat all might." a man with blue hair and creepy red eyes stated quietly as he scratched at his nape.

forcing himself to run with his classmates he didn't dare look behind to the creepy look and aura the light blue-haired man gave off; and suddenly there was darkness.

then light. [m/n] opened his eyes to see a white room, with a grey desk and bookshelf; along with a few dying flowers scattered around. he felt sad looking at the flowers, and was about to pick one up before a voice interrupted. "lmaoz wat." getting on all fours again he was about to growl, but instead let out a burp.

"E-" lunging himself at the weird voice he scratched at the dude's face while trying to bite his neck. successfully doing that he latched himself on there as he analysed the weird man. emo haircut. wow, this dude do kinda look like a pig tho- with those nostrils-

pig-man ripped [m/n] off from his neck, with his teeth pulling a chunk with him as he slammed onto the ground, spitting out the disgusting raw neck meat. the man pulled out a gun, randomly firing at [m/n] as the hybrid dodged, jumping around, his ears picking up on the man's footsteps and the bullet's location as he tried to find an exit. finally locating an open window he jumped out of there, clearly not thinking of his actions. quickly regretting as he saw how fast he was falling from such a height.

"ZCREEEENSDNFKSDNFSKDN-" somehow, his tail latched onto a random pole and he flung himself forward, also smacking his face into a random dude's crotch while doing so. "OWIE!" he landed on his butt with a thud, holding his nose in pain as the dude knelt in pain, holding his crotch. another thud was heard, accompanied by a small "wheeeey."

he looked behind, spotting a two girls- one with long earlobes and the other with a revealing outfit, while a blonde was on the ground making weird "weee" noises. [m/n] let out a nervous chuckle as he felt himself being picked up by the ears, scratching around, hating the feeling of being held in the air. his ears hurt- it felt like they were being ripped from his head. he hissed waving his tail and claws around. he heard the man groan as his tail smacked him in the face.

a knife was pressed to his neck and he froze, his eyes wide. i regret my life. i regret applying to yuuei. IM GON' DIE RIGHT AAA-

"you move, this kid is going down." villain guy said calmly. if [m/n] moved forwards, his neck will be sliced. but if he moved backwards-

but then my ears might not be able to handle all the pressure... [m/n] whimpered, his scalp starting to bleed. ah, fuck it. i'm gonna die anyways, either from my ears or the knife.

he harshly yanked his head backwards, his head knocking onto the villain's nose harshly. with a gasp his ears was released and [m/n] dropped to the floor, his hands automatically reaching up to touch his ears; hissing when a sharp pain travelled through his body as he touched the tip of them.

he was quickly shoved out of the way as kaminari rushed up to the villain, releasing more electricity as he screeched, the villain getting singed. they all zoomed out of there, [m/n] throwing all of them onto his back as he morphed himself into a wolf, carrying them back near where the exit was.

<<>><<>><<>>

he collapsed onto the ground, his head aching after the three got off his back. a weird bird like creature was slamming aizawa's head onto the ground. he could faintly make out the outline of someone reaching for a girl in the waters but his vision was too blurry for him to see who. "you really are cool... eraserhead." [m/n] watched as the head of his teacher was slammed back onto the ground again, his vision clearing up. and being the guard dog he is-

he got up, speed-ran to the bird creature and head-butted right into its stomach. full speed. the nomu was knocked off aizawa but besides that no damage was dealt. he was picked up the second time by his ears- and thrown off into the distance.

wincing he got back up, ignoring his teacher's calls for him to back up and "sit the fuck down and rest" as he rammed right into the nomu again, this time higher into his chest. he somehow managed to land a hit near where the nomu's brain is with his tail before he was slammed onto the ground near where aizawa was. he laid still as the nomu went up to where shigaraki was and began attacking the other students.

aizawa was fading in and out of consciousness- as [m/n] could tell from his decayed arm and the blood on his face. he wasn't doing any better, but aizawa looked as if he was more hurt than [m/n] ever will be.

lol, i mean i wasn't the one to get my skin ripped off my arm with it decaying and my head slammed full force into the ground that it would cause a huge dent- looking back to where he laid, a huge dent was formed under him. never frikkin mind.

i wonder if there's any way i could transfer sensei's pain to myself. that's part of moma's quirk, right? my quirk and hers is quite similar, except that she's a full wolf instead of being part bunny and wolf like i am. [m/n] sighed, thinking about his family. they probably wouldn't even care if i died, lmao.

remembering his mother telling his brother about her quirk he copied what she had said- lifting a finger to touch aizawa's skin and focusing on the image of what he envisions the "pain" as coming out of aizawa's body and into his. he could hear his teacher grumble out questions on why his student was poking his hand and he removed his hand, sighing and realising it probably didn't work until a sudden pain in his head caused a static-like noise filled his head and he passed out from the pain, his ears and tail falling limp by his side.

aizawa could feel the pain from his head lessen. he had questions, but frankly, his jaw was too hurt for him to even move it. he looked down slightly, seeing the passed out new kid and he sighed, his sight darkening as he felt himself getting picked up and carried.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

word count: 1780

this part was probably the hardest to write and the plot probably makes no sense lmao-

i already forgot like most of the usj parts and i had to rewatch the whole thing like thirty times more to write this chapter and now my eyes hurt from sitting in front of the computer for so long.

yeet i have decided that i will write a chapter every two or three days- ya know to keep my memory of the storyline in check and at the same time letting myself rest for a day.

see y'alls next time :>

#bnha #mha #yaoi #bxb #anime #manga #kaminari #midoriya #bakugo #todoroki #kirishima #aizawa #quirk

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Note

howdy i love your aftg writing!! here’s a concept: i feel like once neil’s past is out, he has no reason to hesitate absolutely sucker punching someone. like we know he made neil a pushover because it raises less questions, but now that everyone knows who he is im SURE he’s just bitch slapped someone mid-game. no holding back, like if u say something fucked up he’s just gonna try to kill you!! do you know who this man is?? there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows some quick and lethal punches!

Oh yes, anon. Bruiser!Neil I can DEFO get behind.

Here’s 3k of Neil punching stuff, and Andrew being wildly turned on by it. Read here or on AO3 (Check AO3 notes for content warnings, etc.)

*Edit* : In the original version of this fic, Nicky faces racist abuse in addition to homophobic abuse, and quotes the offensive language and slurs used against him. After concerns were raised regarding how I handled this abuse (specifically, the language used, the context in which the abuse takes place, and my position as a non-latine) I censored and subsequently removed the relevant dialogue. I sincerely apologise and promise to do better in the future. Please don't hesitate to contact me with any questions and concerns regarding this subject.

[01/06/2020]

All the Guys Love a Bruiser

Neil’s mother taught him how to throw a punch, of course she did. Their lessons took place anywhere spacious enough to swing a fist, in empty parking lots behind greasy gas stations or in dingy motel rooms if she thought the walls were thick enough to cover up the noises they made.

Mary had always been more flight than fight, an instinct she had forced into Neil over years of running. Even she had to admit, however, that sooner or later they would hit a dead end, and while that would spell certain death for both of them, it would be better to go down fighting than it would on their knees.

If their lessons ended with Neil aching black and blue, it was his own fault. He needed to be quicker, smarter, crueller. More like his mother.

Matt’s teaching style is different from Mary’s, as is his fighting style. It bears the hallmarks of professional athleticism, all stances and positioning and strategy. While his mother’s idea of a lesson in self-defence was to hit Neil until he figured out how to dodge her blows or hit back, Matt talks him through how to angle his body, how to make a fist in a way that won’t break his fingers. At the end of their first boxing lesson, the only bruises on Neil’s body are the light purple spreading across his knuckles.

That evening, he and Andrew take over the beanbags, TV muted in the background while they dig into ice-cream. The tub is pleasantly cool in Neil’s hands, and he rubs his knuckles against the sides like an improvised icepack. When the residual cold has melted away, Neil flexes his fingers, enjoying the faint tingle dancing across them. These marks are different from those his mother gave him; they weren’t inflicted on him unwillingly but earned with sweat and exertion. When Matt had let go of the punching bag and told him they were done for the day, Neil had been surprised by his own disappointment. He had never been sorry see the end of his mother’s lessons.

Andrew takes his hand suddenly, startling Neil from his thoughts. It’s a purely analytical touch; he turns Neil’s hand over and runs a finger across the blossoming bruises of his knuckles.

Neil bites back the I’m fine, knowing the look it would earn him. Instead he says, “I had fun. We’re meeting again next week.”

Andrew nods. It’s a few moments more before he relinquishes Neil’s hand, however. The heat of Andrew’s skin mingles with the singing twinge of Neil’s bruises like an after-print.

Next week, Andrew slouches into the gym after Neil. He ignores Matt’s invitation to join them, flopping onto a rowing machine and leaning back against the machinery so he can kick his feet up on the seat rail. They’re lucky that they chose unsociable hours for their workout, or a line of athletes would be forming to glare at him.

Andrew watches them train from across the room with apparent disinterest. He can feign boredom all he likes; Neil knows he wouldn’t have bothered following him to the gym without reason.

Matt, if anything, seems amused by Andrew’s presence. “Dan comes to watch me practice sometimes, too.” He pauses to correct the angles of Neil’s feet before nudging his arms into blocking positions. “She did it even before we started dating. She used to sit on an exercise bike and pretend she was cycling so I wouldn’t know she was there to watch me. It was never very convincing.”

“Why did she want to watch you?” Neil shifts his weight, trying to copy Matt’s position.

Matt’s face crinkles up with laughter. “That’s the most Neil thing you’ve ever said.”

“Everything I say is a Neil thing.”

“She liked it when I took my shirt off. C’mon, man, join the dots.”

“You don’t take your shirt off to box.”

“Yeah,” says Matt. “Don’t tell her that.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Can I hit you now?”

Matt barks out a laugh, and training resumes.

“Enjoying the show?” Neil asks Andrew an hour later, dropping down on the gym mat next to him. Andrew hands Neil his water bottle with an unimpressed look.

“You’re awful.” Andrew flicks a look over to Matt, who is using their break to chat with the only other gym regular insane enough to be working out at the crack of dawn on a Sunday. “He could knock you on your ass with one right hook.”

“I know I’m awful. That’s what training is for.” Neil pauses to gulp down most of the bottle. A droplet escapes his lips and tracks down his jugular before falling into the dip of his clavicle. Andrew’s eyes track its path. “Matt isn’t going to hurt me. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“I’m not here to babysit you.”

“Huh.” Neil drains the last of the water before shaking the residual droplets over his head. The beads glint in the corners of his vision as they catch in his bangs and fleck his cheeks, mercifully cooling against his skin. Andrew is still watching him intently. His eyes flick to Matt once more, checking that he is still absorbed in his conversation.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Neil replies, and he watches as Andrew takes Neil’s hand in his. The skin is flushed from strike after strike, not yet coloured in bruising patches but soon to be. Neil’s hands feel softer for it, sensitive to Andrew’s touch.

“I know my limits.” Neil isn’t sure why the gym suddenly feels three degrees warmer. “Really, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know. I trust you.” Andrew sends one more look over Neil’s shoulder like he’s checking the coast is clear before pressing Neil’s knuckles to his lips.

The breath Neil was in the process of catching slips from his grasp entirely. “Oh.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“You like watching me fight.”

“It’s more interesting than watching you run.”

Neil leans in until he can see each individual freckle on Andrew’s cheeks. “Interesting?”

Andrew’s cool look is betrayed by the twitch of his jaw. “Something like that.”

If Matt notices Neil’s new vigour when they return to practice, he doesn’t comment on it. When he catches Neil’s eye, however, he grins knowingly. Perhaps Matt’s conversation had not been as absorbing as he made it out to be. Soon, however, the rhythm of the exercise draws Neil’s attention back to the task at hand.

Neil first learned to throw a punch because his mother believed that one day his life could depend on it. That isn’t the reason that he has resumed his training with Matt; it turns out that a good instructor and fewer death threats make the activity far more pleasant than Neil remembers. It may be a useful skill, but he values the challenge more than he does the practicality. The physicality, too – in fact, he likes boxing for the same reasons that he loves Exy. Quick, brutal, thrilling. He finally understands, too, why Andrew likes to spar with Renee whenever his emotions get on top of him. There’s a certain a sense of control that comes from putting his fist through a break-board. Not that he needs the empowerment as much as he once might have – most of Neil’s tormentors were killed long ago, his fears with them. Given his new life of safety and security, it’s likely that he’ll never really need to know how to throw a good punch.

It takes all of one week for Neil to be proven wildly, wildly wrong.

Opposition strikers – with one glaring, now very dead exception – are not typically Neil’s problem. Generally, if they end up playing on the same side of the court as him, something has gone wrong in the team’s strategies.

He can tell even from a distance, however, that one of the Terrapin strikers is causing difficulties. Not in terms of ability – of which Terrapin’s #13 has little – but in attitude. Thirteen is a vocal player, and Neil can hear snatches of his voice echoing across the court. No fists have been swung, which is an impressive feat for the Fox defenders, but perhaps only because the luck of substitutions has put Thirteen against Nicky more than anyone else, and Nicky is more likely to react to insults with mirth than anger.

Shortly before the end of the first half, Nicky is subbed off at the same time as Thirteen. Nicky passes Neil on the way to the court doors, clacking their racquets together with half a smile. “Give them hell, Neil.”

Thirteen passes them at the same moment, slamming Nicky’s shoulder as he passes. Nicky mutters a word under his breath that would have earned him a month of washing-up duty at Abby’s house before heading for the Foxes’ bench. Neil watches him go, eyebrows creasing together. Nicky isn’t easily upset by the cruelty of strangers; it’s the cruelty that comes from within his own family that is most likely to shake him from his good humour. The barbed insults of nameless players on the court, on the other hand, are usually brushed off with a rude gesture and no more.

Swept up in the rush of the match, Neil forgets about Nicky’s discomfort until half-time. The team pours from the court in high spirits; they have a decent lead over the Terrapins which should carry them through the second half when exhaustion starts to kick in. Nicky, despite having blocked more shots on goal than anyone, reacts to the arrival of the rest of the team with only a pallid grin. His grip on his water bottle is tight, and the cheap plastic crackles and caves in his hands.

Nicky is an easy read, and it doesn’t take long for the other Foxes to notice. After he brushes Renee’s concerned enquiry off, however, the team leaves him be.

When Neil returns to the court for the start of the third quarter, he breathes a sigh of relief to see that Thirteen is nowhere near Nicky. He’s standing closer to goal than Neil is happy with, but Andrew is more or less impervious to verbal abuse and Thirteen has yet to show signs of physical violence. As much as he wants to keep a closer eye on the situation, Kevin’s barked commands draw his attention to the match at hand. The best thing Neil can do for the Foxes’ defence is to spend as much time lobbing the ball at the Terrapin’s goal as possible.

Neil and Nicky are substituted at the same time; they collapse onto the bench and drown their exhaustion in Gatorade. Thirteen crushed Nicky against the wall moments before the substitution, and Nicky is uncharacteristically quiet as Abby examines the cut over his eye.

“You’re not whining about cramping your style,” she says as she presses a plaster in place. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, this is great for my style. All the guys love a bruiser.” Nicky winks despite the blood crusting in his eyelashes. “Neil knows what I’m talking about, don’tcha, Neil?”

Abby makes a noise that isn’t convinced, but doesn’t press the issue. Neil waits until she’s out of earshot before saying casually, “I still have a few contacts in the mafia.”

“Your sense of humour is dire,” says Nicky, but he’s grinning, so Neil counts it as a win. “Don’t worry about it. I think Andrew’s drawing his fire now. Andrew handles that kind of thing a lot better than me.”

“What kind of thing?”

Nicky winced. “Don’t ask.”

“Tell me.”

“Let's just say he isn't exactly lining up to lead a Pride march.” Nicky snorts humorlessly.

The joke doesn’t land, and not because of Neil’s non-existent sense of humour. He may not be as obvious as Nicky in his preferences nor as dark-skinned, but he has still been on the receiving end of enough of that brand of bullshit to know how it scratches at one’s insides.

“I wasn’t joking about those contacts.”

Nicky sighs. “I was worried you would say that.”

Neil’s attention keeps slipping from the game and over to Andrew, who is standing in goal and ignoring the tirade of insults being thrown his way like a statue facing down a breeze. His non-reaction only seems to stoke Thirteen’s fury, spittle catching in the mesh of his helmet as he watches Andrew knock yet another attempt away from the Foxes’ end.

Andrew spares Thirteen no more than a second of blank indifference in the face of his tirade. Then he drops his stance, shoulders setting into a silent challenge that sends a hot bolt of excitement straight Neil’s to gut. Andrew is locking down the goal.

The Terrapins don’t score again for the rest of the match.

Neil is through the doors before the final buzzer has died, charging into the crush of Foxes at centre-court to join in their celebrations. Andrew, as usual, hovers at the edge of the throng, but he accepts the clack of Neil’s racquet against his. A light sheen of sweat dances across Andrew’s forehead and his lips are parted as he regains his breath after the exertion of locking the Terrapins out.

“Did Thirteen give you trouble?”

Andrew snorts derisively despite his breathlessness. “He tried.”

Neil gets to see Thirteen up close during the handshakes. He barely grazes the tips of each Foxes’ fingers as he passes one by one, but he stops when he gets to Neil. “I remember you. You were all over the news, weren’t you? The runaway Wesninski.” His expression speaks to his delight at the revelation. To no-one’s surprise, Thirteen is a sore loser.

Andrew barely moves, just a slight adjustment to his footing so that he presses a little closer into Neil’s shoulder.

Neil smiles. It is the kind of smile he has not had use for in some time. “Looking for an autograph?”

Thirteen snorts. “Bet you think you’re real bad. Bet you think those scars make you look tough. Too bad you’re still a puny little bitch.”

Neil flexes his hand before clenching it into a fist. “I do think I’m real bad, actually. Want to find out why?”

The striker waits for the hit to come. Neil doesn’t give him the satisfaction; the guy is a piece of shit, but he isn’t worth the trouble he’s clearly looking for. Neil drops his hands, meets his gaze, and waits for him to give up on getting his reaction and leave.

Most of the other players are moving off to their own respective sides, and their stand-off is beginning to attract attention. Kevin squints over at them, and at his side, Aaron pulls off his helmet.

“Oh shit. Twins.” Thirteen’s gaze swings from Aaron to Andrew, flashing with sudden recognition. “I remember you too.” His expression turns sharkish. “Now that was a story. So, which one is the murderer, and which is the brother-fucker?”

Andrew barely twitches. Neil’s reaction is less restrained.

It’s almost a play-by-play of decking Riko at the Winter Banquet. The key difference between that punch and this one is hours of training with a borderline-professional boxer.

Neil squares his stance, draws back his fist, and puts his whole body behind the punch. He’s rewarded with the sickening crack of a nose breaking and a hot spurt of blood splattering his knuckles.

Thirteen staggers back, shock registering for a second before he spits blood at the floor. He’s swaying on his feet, but there’s still fight in his eyes.

Andrew’s hands go to his sheaths, but Neil waves him back. He wipes the hand bloodied by Thirteen’s face across his jaw unthinkingly, feels the wet, red heat clinging to his skin. “Hey. This one’s mine.” The smile he tacks onto the words is toothier than he means it to be. With blood still smeared across his chin, he can only imagine how he looks.

Andrew’s hand judders to a halt at the hems of his armbands. His jaw is clenched tight but roaring over the current of concern is something far darker. It creeps into his eyes, a weight to his gaze normally only visible in the privacy of their bedroom. Andrew’s gaze runs the length of Neil’s body before coming to rest on Neil’s mouth. His bottom lip catches momentarily in his teeth as he nods.

Thirteen’s first swing hits, and a burst of blood dances across Neil’s tongue as his lip is split open. Thirteen’s luck ends there; Neil blocks his second punch with a move Matt taught him the day before. He drives his free hand into Thirteen’s solar plexus, knocking the air from him.

Neil doesn’t get much time to appreciate how the striker falls on his ass as they’re rushed by teammates and officials who break them apart.

Neil stands placidly before Wymack and bears his row with the bare minimum of decorum. The lecture is undercut by Nicky, who’s expression alternates between elation, amusement and mock disapproval from moment to moment. Matt, at least, waits until Wymack is finished before applauding.

“I’ll give you some notes later, but all things considered it was a solid right hook.”

Neil brushes the team’s reactions off as best he can; he certainly didn’t do it for their recognition.

He takes his time showering, watching with a strange, sick pleasure as he rinses the striker’s blood away. It turns pink in the shower basin before swirling at last down the drain. Beneath the blood, Neil’s knuckles have begun to bruise, satisfaction burning them blue.

It’s at these times that Neil worries that he may have inherited too much from his father; the temper, the violence, the bloodlust. Then again, they all served as tools to his survival at one point or another. The key difference between Neil and his father is who they choose to turn their anger on. Neil’s father always set his sights on the underdog. Neil prefers to punch up.

No; if there’s one thing Nathan gave him, it was a distaste for bullies.

There’s a familiar tap at the door to Neil’s stall. The rest of the Foxes cleared out some time ago, still rowdy from the post-match high. Tonight was a home game; most of the team will be halfway back to Fox tower already, thinking only of booze and the weekend stretching ahead of them. There’s only one player who would have any reason to linger.

Andrew steps under the spray, his hair is plastered to his head by the steamy drizzle. He holds his hand out, and Neil offers his without question for Andrew’s inspection.

Andrew’s voice is dispassionate as he inspects the damage. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour. Nor for you to fight my battles for me.”

“The fight was for my own satisfaction. But I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Once again, Andrew presses his lips to Neil’s raw knuckles. The contact stings, sweet and savoury, pleasure and pain. “Would it kill you to make life easy for once?” The words tingle against the tender skin.

“I thought you liked to watch me fight.”

“Just because I find your stupidity entertaining doesn’t mean I encourage it.”

“It’s my stupidity you like, is it?”

“What else do you have?” Andrew’s eyes track the rivulets of water snaking down Neil’s neck.

“I’m sure I can think of a few things.” Neil says. Then, for clarity, “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Andrew doesn’t let go of Neil’s hand, thumb running across the reddening knuckles once more before leading it to his chest. Neil leaves it resting there, marvelling at the colours bleeding between them under the shower’s onslaught, pink and brown and red and blue. Andrew soon tires of Neil’s staring, and is the first to bridge the gap between them.

Neil once compared Andrew’s kisses to a fight with their lives on the line. Countless kisses later, this fact has not changed in the slightest. Andrew leaves a bruising trail of kisses across Neil’s neck until he can’t remember which marks are from Exy and which are from Andrew. They all sting the same, sweet way.

Each kiss pressed to his mouth carries a metallic tang from Neil’s burst lip. He can tell from the fierce pressure of Andrew’s mouth against his that Andrew can taste it too, is feeding off the adrenaline rush just as Neil is. He catches Neil’s bottom lip between his teeth and with it sucks a groan from deep in Neil’s chest.

Andrew draws back to level him with an unimpressed look. “You’re far too into this.”

“You’re one to talk.” Neil raises his hand to Andrew’s eyeline, wiggling his fingers. Andrew’s eyes catch on the blooming violet patches. “You like this. Admit it.”

Andrew steps forward until his cheek brushes Neil’s fingers. Neil turns his hand automatically, cupping Andrew’s face.

“Yes,” says Andrew. His eyes stay on Neil’s, even as Neil’s hand drops lower.

It’s a small miracle, Neil thinks, that Andrew can trust Neil’s hands on him, after all he knows they are capable of. Maybe that’s part of the appeal, the evidence painted into Neil’s knuckles that Neil’s gentler touches are reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone. It’s strange that Andrew should love Neil’s fighting spirit as much as he does. After all, it was Andrew who taught Neil how to stand and fight in the first place.

It’s a fact that neither will ever let the other forget.

Neil leaves the shower sporting several more bruises than he entered with. Some are from Exy, some are from fighting, and some are from Andrew’s mouth.

He loves them all just the same.

* Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! Still open to prompts etc.

#tfc #aftg #andreil #the foxhole court #all for the game #my fic #asks #anon #WHY IS TUMBLR FUCKING WITH THE POST FORMAT ASKDHSKDFGGGG

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musashi · 4 years

Note

i had a crummy day too so i feel u. have you ever visited a volcano (if not what’s one you’d like to visit?)? what’s your fav pet you’ve ever had? besides wobbuffet, was there a pokemon you bonded with most as jessie? what’s a detail about james that didn’t find its way into dte that you want everyone to know? how’s your rewrite going, and do you still have plans to print a physical copy? do you enjoy rewriting? what’s your favorite part of the writing process? feel better dude ♥️

i hope you feel better! ;o;

have you ever visited a volcano (if not what’s one you’d like to visit?)?

i’ve been to mt. rainier! and i thiiiink mt. st. helens? i went to as many volcanoes as was humanly possible as a kid because i was fucking terrified of them and whenever i’m scared of anything it immediately turns into obsession. i think i had plans to visit glacier peak as well safdgsdfg

vesuvius is the goal. my sister went to pompeii and brought me a lava rock bracelet from the gift shop and i went fucking ape. for a really long time i wanted to change my middle name to vesuvius!

what’s your fav pet you’ve ever had?

i cant pick a favourite child x3

besides wobbuffet, was there a pokemon you bonded with most as jessie?

oh i love this question! arbok was my first ever pokemon so i love him in ways i can’t ever love another. starter bond is a magic that’s hard to put words to.

dustox also has a very special place in my heart. i had a lot of false starts growing up and wanting to be a coordinator but it wasn’t in the cards for me until i was an adult with a job to distract me from that old flame. but dustox was my guiding light breaking into that career and when i won my first ribbon with her it felt like i was finally making a name for myself in the world. i’ll always attribute that to her. of course we’re both stars, but she brought out the best in me.

what’s a detail about james that didn’t find its way into dte that you want everyone to know?

god im blanking i feel like i put every thought i’ve ever had about him into dte sfdgsfdgfsd like from the fact that he’s allergic to everything including most of his pokemon down to how he jumps on his fucking arcanine to go grocery shopping instead of taking the bus

how’s your rewrite going, and do you still have plans to print a physical copy?

i dunno if i’d call it a rewrite, i’m just tweaking some things i feel i could do better now, mostly dialogue that was awkward and not really up to par in the beginning haha.

a physical copy is the goal. i haven’t worked on it in a while because i’ve been distracted by other projects but i was thinking i could get back to it soon.

do you enjoy rewriting? what’s your favorite part of the writing process?

i enjoy the re-reading more than the re-writing, hehe. for dte, my favourite part of the writing process was outlining with my writing partner ;v; its a lot easier to write when you can bounce ideas off someone. writing alone suuuucks. i never wanna write alone again xD

#chepsi #wendy answers

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paintingwithdarkness · 4 years

Note

Roydick + “you forgot to remove your snarky sticky note comments in this textbook and since i got kicked out of the library for laughing too loudly, im going to reply to each and every one” Thank you darlin' 👾

Lmao thx for the ask @dbakeiro! I’ve never written for Roydick before, so this should be new. Time to dig out my old stack of books from high school English 😂. I was a sarcastic bitch back then, so I should have some pretty good comments written in the margins I can use for this. I know it says ‘textbook’ but I’m gonna go with The Great Gatsby, because I completely defiled my copy with highlighters and sloppy cursive in the margins 😂. Hopefully my sense of humor will resonate with you.

Dick sighed heavily as he tossed the blue-covered book onto the table and slumped down in the wooden chair he’d just pulled out for himself. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips. He did not want to do this. English sucked. At least math made sense to him. Metaphors, and hyperboles and idioms were just plain confusing. That was more Jason’s thing. There was a reason he always switched homework with his brother when they got home. Dick was the math guy. He did all of Jason’s algebra in exchange for Jay doing his English assignments. The only problem this time was that Jason had been caught cheating on one of his math tests, since he didn’t know any of the material. So while Jason was stuck in algebra tutoring, Dick had been forced to venture to the library to rent and read a copy of The Great Gatsby so he could complete his book report.

Overall, the book didn’t look too daunting. 180 pages. Dick could read that in a few hours. The only problem was the fact that he didn’t want to. Trying to comprehend the narrative while also searching for metaphor examples, foreshdowing, and vocabulary words meant that he would have to read each sentence at least twice so that he could complete all of the sections on his assignment. That meant actually getting through the book would take him twice as long. So not cool.

Reluctantly, he reached out and pulled the book closer. If he was being honest, the cover was actually a little creepy. Disembodied eyes and lips floated in a sea of blue. Below them was what looked like a city, bursting with lights. What was the point of the face? Was that supposed to be Gatsby? If so, Dick thought the dude was pretty ugly. And why would anyone want to write a book about an ugly guy?

He flipped the novel open. The first few pages gave the typical publication information and dedications. He skipped past those. When he got to the first page of the actual story, he paused. There was a green sticky note stuck to the margin. On it were a few scribbled sentences in print that looked like a kindergartner had written it. The letters were a mashup of capitals and lowercase, uneven in size and spacing. Dick gave it a quick once over. Maybe he wouldn’t have to read this book after all. If someone had already read it and done all the work for him by leaving their notes behind, all Dick would have to do was copy what they had already written. He had gotten lucky!

When he flipped to the second page, there was a sentence highlighted in orange and another sticky note. The sentence of the book read: “Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on.” The response on the sticky note was: “Yeah, I don’t care either.”

Dick stifled a chuckle. So the last person who had checked this book out had decided to leave sarcastic commentary behind. Even if it wasn’t going to help him with his assignment, maybe Dick could get a little enjoyment out of this book after all.

He skimmed the next few pages before finding another sticky note. A few paragraphs had been highlighted; descriptions of a new character named Tom. After reading the highlighted bits, Dick read the note: “This Tom guy sounds like a rich, white asshole.”

A smile cracked the raven-haired student’s lips. After reading the description, Dick had to say he agreed with the note. Having his thoughts already written out by someone who agreed with him was ironically hilarious. Dick had barely started reading this book, and he didn’t know the person who had left these notes behind, but he had already made up his mind that he liked whoever it was.

On page 7 was another sticky written in response to a line of dialogue: “‘Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final, just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.”’ In the scrawled handwriting: “Ah, another case of fragile masculinity. Too bad male enhancement surgery wasn’t invented until the 50’s.”

Dick couldn’t contain the snort of a laugh that escaped him this time. Whoever had written these notes was one of the most sarcastic people Dick had ever met... or read from? in this case, anyway. Regardless, it was hilarious.

Unfortunately, his little outburst earned him a nasty look from the librarian. Dick shrunk a little in his seat. He would have to try to mask his reactions a little better.

He read a few pages more, filling in the description portions of his report as new characters were introduced. So far there was Nick, Daisy, and Tom. He wondered when he was going to get to the part with Gatsby. That was the guy the book was named after, so when the hell was this guy going to show up?

The next sticky note was placed next to a description of a female character named Jordan. A single sentence was highlighted: “I enjoyed looking at her.” The book was written in first person, from the point of view of this Nick character. The sarcastic sticky note response? “Yeah, what guy wouldn’t?”

Dick rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a particularly funny response, but the fact that the writer of the notes had chosen to comment on it said something about them.

It wasn’t until Dick got to the second chapter that he found another note. A paragraph at the bottom of the page had been highlighted, and the name Doctor J.T. Eckleburg had been circled. The sticky note said: “Ah. So this is the creepy fucker on the cover.”

A loud, “HA!” emerged from between Dick’s lips. It earned him a harsh shushing from the librarian. She was looking at him as if he were the most despicable human being she had ever met. Dick sunk lower in his chair. “Sorry,” he mouthed back at her. The librarian held up a single finger, and then pointed at the doors. One more chance, and then he had to leave. Guess it was three strikes and you’re out with this lady.

Dick tried his best to keep quiet as he kept reading. Occasional commentary from the smartass note-writer appeared every couple pages, mostly tame enough that Dick could get through it with a silent huff of laughter or a stifled giggle. Among his favorites were:

“I have been drunk just twice in my life.” “What a damn shame.”

“Catherine was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face.” “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

“Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily. ‘They’re such beautiful shirts,’ she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. ‘It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such- such beautiful shirts before.’” “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The one that made Dick lose it however, was a note in response to a few highlighted lines of dialogue: “She got up and went over to Gatsby and pulled his face down, kissing him on the mouth. ‘You know I love you,’ she murmured. ‘You forget there’s a lady present,’ said Jordan. Daisy looked around doubtfully. ‘You kiss Nick too.’” The note-taker had written: “Just start an orgy, why don’t you, Daisy?”

Dick burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. Amongst the many sticky notes written and stuck in the middle portion of the book were snarky comments about Daisy’s many lovers, Tom, Gatsby, and her fantasies about her own cousin, Nick. The orgy comment was the final thing that pushed Dick over the edge though.

He was in the middle of trying to calm himself back down when the librarian made an appearance at his side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, young man,” she said, sternly. “This is a library. Books are supposed to be educational; not funny.”

Dick nearly snorted at the librarian’s words, because he knew for a fact that she was wrong- plenty of books were written for the sole purpose of entertainment- but he wasn’t going to argue. He packed up his things, slipping the book into his backpack, before getting up and leaving the library. He could finish reading at home. At least there he could laugh without judgement from the old hag.

During the drive home, a brilliant idea bloomed to life in Dick’s head. All of the sticky note comments had been addressed in such a way that they were directly speaking to the characters they were about, almost like they were continuing or starting a conversation. Why then, couldn’t Dick help carry on that conversation? Why not add to the sarcastic commentary? Dick was pretty witty himself, and had already thought of a few responses to the comments the note-taker had left behind.

When he got home, Dick sprinted up to his room without so much as a hello to any of his siblings or father. He had thought that forcing himself to read this book would be torture at first, but now he was actually excited to continue, if only so he could leave his own mark on the book.

The first comment he responded to was one that said: “Well, that would be the global warming.” The line in the actual book was: “‘I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter every year. It seems that pretty soon the earth’s going to fall into the sun- or wait a minute- it’s just the opposite- the sun’s getting colder every year.’”

Dick pulled the sticky note out of the book and flipped it over, writing his response on the back in large, loopy cursive: “I thought global warming was fake news?” Then he stuck the note back in the place he found it with a smile.

As he neared the end of the book the notes started dwindling in number. Dick pulled out a sticky note written in response to the line: “Nowadays people begin sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they’ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.” Sarcastic Note-Taker had written: “Oh, the horrors!” Dick’s response: “At least he didn’t go after the gays, too. That makes him only a piece of shit instead of the whole pile.”

The last note wasn’t written in response to a particular quote, but the book as a whole. It was formatted as though the writer was just jotting down some final thoughts. Everything was bulletpointed.

Overall rating: 6/10

Had some entertaining parts, not too difficult to read, however:

Tom was a racist asshole

Daisy was a confused, manipulative bitch

Jordan was just plain full of herself

Gatsby was a liar

(Shame he died tho; R.I.P.)

Nick was the only decent character in this book

And honestly, wtf was the point of the creepy-ass face on the cover?

The 20’s sound lame. So much for “roaring” 20’s. These losers were living in the snoring 20’s.

Educational, I guess. Would not read again.

Dick chuckled. He actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. Instead, he figured he would leave his own note.

He scrambled around inside his desk, searching for the pad of sticky notes he knew he possessed. Like the note-taker, Dick tended to leave his thoughts on little post-its in his textbooks, though he was always certain to remove them before returning his books to the library. He didn’t know if the person who had checked this book out last had simply forgotten to remove their snarky comments, or if they had left them behind on purpose. Either way, Dick was glad because they had made this otherwise boring book actually entertaining to read.

Eventually, Dick victoriously held up a half-used pad of pink post-it notes. He scribbled down his own review of the book, and then tore the note off the top of the stack, sticking it into the back cover of The Great Gatsby, next to the green note left by the last renter.

Feeling satisfied, Dick slumped back in his desk chair. He had actually gotten through the whole book. Now all he had to do was finish his stupid book report. He’d filled out all of the major sections, and all he had left were the minute details.

Title: The Great Gatsby. Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald. Copyright:

Damn. Dick would have to go back to all of those pages he’d skipped at the beginning. With a sigh, he reopened the book, noticing something taped to the inside of the front cover he hadn’t before. It was a record of everyone who had checked out the book. Apparently the last person to check it out was a ‘Roy Harper’. The rental date was today’s date, exactly a year ago. Dick was a sophomore reading this book. That meant this ‘Roy Harper’ had to be a junior. Maybe he still had the same English teacher? It was worth a shot. Maybe Dick could actually meet the sarcastic note-taker in person. What a hilarious scene that would be.

With his mind made up on the matter, Dick copied his own name onto the record, that way, this ‘Roy Harper’ would be able to find him, too.

Roy groaned as he slumped down at his desk. English. His last class of the day. If he could just get through this last hour, then he would be free to go home. Just a measly 60 minutes. He could do this.

He rested his head against his shoulders, leaning back dangerously in his chair, precariously balanced on its two back legs. The other students around him were in various states of attentiveness. Some were diligently taking notes as the teacher droned through her powerpoint, while others resembled Roy, only hearing every other word, thoughts in a completely different place altogether.

When the bell rang, Roy nearly let out a relieved cheer. Now he could go home and (not) do his homework. Leaping up from his chair, Roy quickly shoved his English binder and pen back into his bag, before racing to the door of the classroom. Before his hand could grip the knob however, the teacher was standing in front of him.

“Mr. Harper. One of my sophomores said you lent him your copy of The Great Gatsby, and he asked me to return it to you.” She held a vaguely familiar blue-covered book out to him.

Raising a brow in confusion, Roy took it. Disembodied eyes and a pair of lips stared back at him. Well, that was creepy as fuck. But at least it cleared up the initial confusion.

“Uh, Ms. Lance, I think you’re mistaken. This is a library book-” By the time Roy looked back up from the cover, the teacher was already back at her desk. He really didn’t feel like having to explain it to her.

He shoved the book into his backpack. Now he would have to find the stupid sophomore who had done this. Honestly, was the kid really so lazy that he couldn’t return it to the library himself? Obviously, they had seen his name in the front cover and had decided to pawn the novel off on him. Whatever. That was a problem for future him to deal with. Right now, all he wanted to do was go home and take a fat nap.

When Roy woke up, for some reason, his mind immediately went to the book. Go figure. Now that the judgemental floating eyes of J.T. Eckleburg had reentered his life, he wasn’t going to be able to forget about The Great Gatsby until he found that damn sophomore who had decided to pull one over on him.

Roy growled as he threw off his bed covers and stomped to his desk where he had haphazardly tossed his backpack before his nap.

He dug out the book and flipped it open to the front cover. A neon pink sticky note flared against the crisp white of the page, stuck just above the name list of those who had checked out the book. Roy glared at it before reluctantly pulling it out of the book to read.

“Hi Roy, my name is Dick. I’m the sophomore who told Ms. Lance to give this book back to you. I know it’s not your book, since I checked it out from the library, but I do just want to set the record straight:” Roy’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. Did the note end here? He flipped it over. “I 100% blame you for getting kicked out, btw. Your notes are too damn funny. And since I did get kicked out, I decided to respond to all of them.”

Roy blinked back at the note for a moment. Who the hell did this Dick think he was?

He set the note aside and flipped the page. On page one, a familiar green sticky note was stuck to the margin. Roy could vaguely remember writing it. It had been over a year ago. He had completely forgotten to remove the notes before he’d returned the book, and now some stupid sophomore was mocking him for it.

Roy quickly flipped through the book. Several of his green post its were still stuck to the pages, but he didn’t see any more of the pink ones. So much for this sophomore supposedly responding to them.

Roy thought for a minute. Dick had used the back of his own post it to continue his message. Had he...?

Roy flipped the book open to a random page and pulled his old green note out. Sure enough, there was a message written on the back in that same loopy cursive Roy had seen on the pink sticky note.

Roy’s original comment said: “Could have just said she was a clown. Ffs Wordsworth. No need for the garish description.”

The response on the back said: “More like he was competing with Oscar Wilde than Wordsworth.”

Roy snorted. So the kid had a sense of humor after all. Maybe it was worth looking to see what else he had written.

Roy’s next note said: “Damn bitch. They’re just shirts. Get over yourself.”

The sophomore had written: “Maybe they’re Chanel?”

Roy snorted. So this Dick guy was into fashion, huh? Interesting. Then again, now that he was thinking about it, Roy had looked up the date male enhancement surgery was invented, just so he could prove a point in one of the notes he had written last year. Ironic how the research he had done hadn’t benefitted him in any way besides the satisfaction of getting to write that witty burn.

The last note Roy bothered looking at was the one written in response to his orgy comment: “No one said anything about sex. Eager for some action, are we? You skipped over bases two and three.”

One of Roy’s red eyebrows inched upwards. He didn’t know whether to feel amused or insulted. This note hadn’t just been written in response to one of his own; it had been directly addressed to him. It was like this stupid sophomore was trying to call him out.

Very well, then. The spotlight was on Roy now. Dick had set the stage, and it was time for Roy to deliver the dramatic soliloquy his audience was waiting for. Well... in this case, another snarkily written note to a snot-nosed sophomore- but same difference.

Roy dug around in his desk, searching for his sticky notes. He didn’t want to use green this time, because it would just blend in with all of his others. He wanted Dick to find his new note. Roy needed to put this kid in his place.

Eventually, he slammed a pad of neon yellow post its down on the desk in front of him. After dragging a pencil out of the cup sitting next to his desktop, he began scribbling his message.

Dick couldn’t help feeling a little giddy when he saw the book sitting on his desk as he walked into English the next day.

“Mr. Grayson, Roy informed me that you needed to borrow this from him again. In the future, I ask that you two stop using me as a middle man to deliver it. You’re an adult. I’m sure you’ll find a way of getting it back to him on your own once you’re finished with it.” Ms. Lance cocked a hand on her hip and raised an expectant blonde eyebrow at him.

Dick chuckled. “Of course, Ms. Lance. Thank you.”

Once the rest of the class filed into the room, Ms. Lance began her lecture for the day, and Dick busied himself with subtly scanning through the book for any signs Roy had left behind for him.

Like he had done, there was only one note that stood out; this time a bright yellow. It read: Who do you think you are, pawning this book back off on me? I did my job and returned it to the fucking library when I was done. I’m not your pack mule. Besides, that unnessesary call out on page 116? Like you even know what third base is.”

Dick scoffed. He ripped the yellow sticky out of the book and flipped it over. “You don’t know whether I do or don’t. Besides, that ‘call out’ is how you interpreted it. I just merely made a suggestion :).”

Roy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he walked into Ms. Lance’s classroom. Sitting up by the whiteboard, on proud display was that damned book again. That cocky little bastard...

Roy quickly flicked his sapphire eyes around the room to make sure no one was watching before he darted up to the whiteboard and snatched the cursed object. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mr. Harper, I believe I explicitly asked Dick not to use me as the middle man in your interactions with him. ‘Accidentally’ leaving this book in my classroom still counts.” The teacher leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

Roy swallowed. “Sorry, Ms. Lance. Won’t happen again.” He quickly scurried to his desk, not wanting to offend the woman any further. She was, after all, the one in control of his grade, and he could not afford to flunk.

Grinding his teeth in annoyance, Roy slammed the book open and located the new note, written on the back of his own yellow one. He dug a pen out of his backpack and scribbled a response.

When he was finished, Roy deflated. How the fuck was he going to get this book back to this annoying Grayson kid? He couldn’t leave it in the classroom, and he had no idea what the kid even looked like. All he had was a name...

“DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE. DICK GRAYSON, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT OFFICE IMMEDIATELY.”

Dick couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that spread across his cheeks as his name blared from the speakers posted in the hallways. Of course the office would choose a passing period, when everyone was in the hallways and could see him. Now the entire student body would think he had gotten into some kind of trouble. Students only got called to the front office for a few reasons.

He tried to hide his face as best as he could as he walked towards the office. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t done anything wrong, so there wasn’t any reason for the principle to be involved. Maybe he had won an award? He was one of the top students in his class, so it was possible.

The secretary was waiting for him when he entered the building.

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick nodded his head.

“A friend dropped this off for you. Said you forgot it at home and would need it for English today.”

As soon as he saw the cover, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Ohhh. This Roy guy was good.

Still feeling the tingle of embarrassment in his cheeks, Dick grabbed the book with a whispered, “Thank you,” before dashing back out of the office.

Once he got to his next class (not English), Dick took some time to think things over. He wasn’t going to play dirty like Roy had, but he had to leave the book somewhere Roy, and only Roy would notice. From what little information Dick did have about Mr. Harper, he knew that the junior had English after him, because the book had been waiting for him in Ms. Lance’s classroom that first day he had used her as a middle man to deliver it to Roy. That meant Dick could leave it behind somewhere close to the English classroom after his own class period, and Roy would find it the same day.

He nearly tripped over the damned thing as he entered the classroom. Sitting on the floor, just outside the English room was a shoe box with his name written on the lid. By now, Roy would recognize that loopy cursive anywhere.

Growling in the back of his throat, he picked up the box and opened the lid. Lo and behold, it was that fucking book.

“Really, dude? The front office? Cheap move, asshole. At first, I thought it would be a good idea to use the book to communicate with you, but honestly, it’s just getting stupid. And now that I know you play dirty, I don’t want to do this anymore. Meet me in person, outside the library today after school.”

Roy couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. So Dick wanted to meet, huh? It was the type of move Roy would expect from a sore loser. They had had a game going on using the book, and now it was all coming to an end. He hadn’t expected that the kid would get so embarrassed from his little front office stunt. Whatever. If the kid wanted to meet, who was Roy to deny him his request? Besides, he had to admit, he was a little curious himself.

Dick glanced down at his watch nervously. He was standing outside the library, ten minutes since school had let out. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He’d wanted to meet Roy, once and for all, just to see who it was he’d been corresponding with. After all of the notes back and forth, Dick had to admit that he thought he and Roy were very like-minded. He’d like to get to know the junior a little better, that is, if Roy was willing. They could make good friends. But it would be a moot point if he didn’t show.

Five more minutes, and then Dick would call it quits and go home. Fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Roy to make up his mind about whether he would be accepting the olive branch Dick had extended, so to speak.

When his timer hit zero, the raven-haired boy shoved his hands into his pockets with a sigh. Guess he wouldn’t be meeting the smartass note-taker after all.

Dick turned, and was about to take a step away from the building when a shock of red appeared out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he turned back around, and looked up, catching eyes with perhaps one of the most handsome boys he had ever seen in his life.

The other boy’s brows were furrowed, and there was a frown set across a pair of narrow peach lips. Blue sapphires, reminiscent of his own eyes gleamed back at him. There was a green snapback covering the majority of the boy’s hair, but the few strands of his bangs that were poking through the hole at the front where he’d turned the hat around, had been enough to catch Dick’s attention.

“You Dick?” The voice was a little rough around the edges, but warm and masculine-sounding. When the boy crossed his arms over his broad chest, Dick couldn’t help noticing the way the muscles of his biceps bulged from where they were poking out of the beige muscle shirt covering his torso.

It took the sophomore more than just a second to tear his gaze away from the taller boy’s arms, and refocus it on his face. Blinking, he gave a barely perceptible nod.

Before he knew it, the other boy had taken a step forward and was shoving something against his chest.

“Good. Now get your ass in there and return this piece of shit, already.” The redhead pointed at the entrance to the library, waiting for Dick to get over his shock and acknowledge the command.

Despite the surprise, Dick’s brain managed to come up with a witty retort. “You remember to remove your notes this time, Roy?”

The fine-toned arms recrossed over the equally toned chest. “You’re a real piece of work, y’know.”

Dick let a chuckle escape from between his lips. “You’re not half-bad looking, yourself.”

The blush that bloomed on Roy’s face nearly melted into his hair. Dick knew that Roy hadn’t been commenting on his appearance, but when he saw something he liked, he went for it. Dick wasn’t shy about flirting, and now that he had seen Roy in person, he couldn’t deny feeling attracted. He was bisexual and proud. Besides, he had always been a fan of red hair.

“I like your sense of humor,” Dick complimented. “How about I go return this ‘piece of shit’ real fast, and then we can get to know each other a little better.” He raised an onyx eyebrow in suggestion.

Roy scoffed. “Now look who’s aiming for third base.”

Another chuckle escaped Dick’s mouth. “I’d be lucky to get to first.”

Dick could just make out the corner of Roy’s mouth twitch. It was like he wanted to smile, but was holding back.

“Three strikes and you’re out. Just be lucky I’ve already thrown you a foul.”

Dick smirked. “You got that right. Did the umpire in the front office see through it?”

The comment sent those brilliant sapphires rolling. “Strike one.”

Dick hissed. “Yikes. I guess the pitcher doesn’t like it when he gets called out.”

“Strike two.”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe I’ll aim for the home run this time. Go big or go home, I guess.”

The smile finally emerged on Roy’s lips. “Just be lucky I swing both ways.”

Dick felt his heart flutter in his chest. Then, to be cocky, “I thought I was the one up to bat?”

A fond sigh escaped Roy’s lips. “Fine. But I’m saving the screwballs for later. We’ll see how you do on first.”

Dick smiled. “Sounds like a win to me.”

Well, this took me longer to write than expected, but it’s done! Hopefully you’ll like it, my dear. All of Roy’s notes were ones that I took directly from my own copy of The Great Gatsby. I figured his sarcasm would align nicely with my own. Dick’s responses I had to come up with on the fly 😂 And yep, I don’t know where all of the baseball stuff at the end came from, but it’s there, and it’s witty, so I’m leaving it. Hopefully this stupid little thing will satisfy your RoyDick craving for a little while. It was interesting to write 😂

#dc #roy harper #dick grayson #high school au #prompt asks #prompts #writing #drabbles #asks #roydick #the great gatsby #i’m a sarcastic bitch 😂

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acena7 · 4 years

Text

The Fall of Clayton Little

On an ordinary fall evening, when the air is cold, and the little daylight that remaines dwindles swiftly behind gatherings of dark clouds. When strong gusts of cold November wind whip through the air rustling brown leaves and carrying trash through the streets. Heavy rains were showering the quiet court-way of an apartment building on 7602 Phillips Place.

Water was everywhere; it showered the roads, collected along the sidewalks, and pooled between the sloped street curbs.

Clay Little turned the steering wheel of his small Ford Fusion onto Phillips place, toward the old building where he rented a small three-bedroom apartment. It was an ominous structure looming over a dim corner where the street light flickered sporadically.

Clay leaned forward, straining to see through the drenched windshield while the car’s wiper arms whisked away rain and debris. He eased on the brakes, let the car roll slowly into an empty space, and parked. Then he pulled the door lever, shouldered it open, and let it slam behind him.

After jogging through the open court-way without a hat or an umbrella, Clay passed through the front gate and pushed the vestibule door open. He was feeling energized and easily climbed four flights of stairs to the landing where he unlocked his three-bedroom apartment.

The apartment’s large interior was murky, but a bright light in the hall cut sharply into the darkness revealing a large section of hardwood flooring, a long glass end table, and a dingy brown leather sofa.

There was thick silence in the room and an odor like rancid fish clung to the air. I need to empty the trash, he thought, closing the front door and flipping the light switch on. The apartment had an odd configuration that unfolded beneath a pale glow probing into a narrow hall, a large kitchen, and the thresholds of three bedrooms.

Clay draped his soaked jacket over the sofa arm and slid his door key across the end table disturbing two flies that instantly meandered toward the ceiling. He went into the kitchen, flipped the light switch on and began checking the table, stove, countertops, then he checked the table again.

He was looking for his wallet, which he discovered was missing after driving part of the way to a CitiBank ATM Machine.

When he was satisfied the wallet was not in the kitchen, he hurried through another short hall and impatiently clicked the master bedroom light on.

There was a trickle of sweat on his brow and a frustrated glare on his face as he checked familiar areas of the room where he normally dropped his wallet or door keys. He rearranged the cluttered dresser tops moving perfume bottles, lifting small boxes, and peeking behind canisters filled with jewelry.

He pulled the heavy comforter off of the bed and tossed the pillows, then he crouched to his knees and put his head beneath the bed.

Where did I go today? Clay thought, beginning to retrace his steps.

His gaze panned the room and followed another fly that landed on a large family photo. The photo had been taken on Father’s Day the previous summer. His wife Tonya and 5-year-old daughter Jazmine sat with him in a large Love seat.

Jazmine smiled lavishly revealing her baby teeth, three of which were missing, but Tonya looked distracted, and her eyes did not focus at the camera angle.

Then it occurred to Clay, he had spoken with Tonya on the phone earlier that day. She called from her mother's home where she had left Jasmine to spend the weekend. Wanting to withdraw cash from an ATM, and give her Mother extra money to entertain Jasmine, Tonya asked Clay to transfer two hundred dollars into their joint checking account.

But Clay didn’t know the account access numbers. He remembered looking through her dresser drawers where she usually kept her mail and their banking account statements, he also remembered having his wallet in his hand at the time.

Then in a burst of energy, Clay yanked the top dresser drawer open and immediately located the wallet resting between her folded rows of panties. Realizing he had not put the account statements back into her drawer, he left the wallet in the drawer and returned to the kitchen.

The statements were still on the table under a crowd of gnats. Clay picked up the bank statements, they were sticky, and he rubbed his fingers together. Then he saw a torn manila envelope on the floor. It had been mailed on the 14th of September.

LabA2 Records Dept.

VeriGene Inc.

741 Petrol Rd

Des Moines Iowa, 50301

T. Little

5513 Campbell Street

Chicago Il, 60657

He shoo’d another fly and opened the envelope; it was moist and empty. His eyes fluttered and he scanned the floor. Then he saw two pages of the letter beneath the table matching the color of the envelope. He squatted to collect them, but there was another page crumpled on the floor in front of the kitchen sink. He smoothed it out over the table top and put the pages in numbered order.

Paternity Test Certificate

By order of Tonya Little we were requested to perform a paternity test. The following individuals were examined:

Sample Number

Role

Name

Date of Birth

HID1847A0-0124

Alleged Father

Damen Redding

08/05/1969

HID1847A0-0125

Child

Jazmine Little

10/01/1999

Regarding the sampling of the participants please refer to the protocols in copy.

We received the originals of the identity confirmations and the consent statements.

Method:

DNA isolation was carried out separately for all samples. Genetic characteristics were determined by the following PCR-single-locus-technology analysis.

With the AlphaTrak 17 (HNWL 500) twenty one (21) independent PCR-systems were analysed:

In parallel, positive and negative controls were performed which gave the expected and correct results.

The results of the analysis are shown in the following table:

Results:

DNA-criteria

Damon Redding HID1847A0-0124

DNA-criteria

Jasmine Little HID1847A0-0125

AM X, Y X, Y

D3S1358 14, 14 14, 18

D1S1656 16.3, 17.3 16.3, 17.3

D6S1043 11, 17 17, 17

D13S317 9, 12 9, 9

Penta E 10, 16 10, 16

D16S539 12, 12 12, 13

D18S51 12, 13 13, 14

D2S1338 23, 23 23, 24

CSF1PO 10, 11 9, 10

Penta D 9, 10 8, 9

TH01 6, 6 6, 7

vWA 15, 17 15, 18

D21S11 29, 30 29, 30

D7S820 8, 11 9, 11

D5S818 11, 13 11, 12

TPOX 9, 11 9, 11

D8S1179 13, 14 13, 14

D12S391 18, 18 18, 19

D19S433 13, 14 14, 15

FGA 18, 25 18, 19

In all analyzed PCR systems, Damen Redding does show the genetic markers which have to be present for the biological father of the child Jasmine Little. The probability of Damen Redding being the biological father of Jasmine Little is > 99.9999 %.

Conclusion:

Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Mr. Damon Red is…

There was a hard knock on the front door. Clay’s heart beat hard behind his ribs, he ignored the knock, attempted to focus, and continued reading.

Conclusion:

Based on our analysis, it is practically proven that Mr. Damon Redding is the biological father of the

child Jasmine Little.

Another harder Knock startled Clay, he dropped the letter on the table and hustled through the hall to the living room.

“Who is it?”

“Chicago Police” three voices overlapped not harmonically. “We would like to ask you a few questions.”

There was a third flurry of even harder knocks on the door. “Come on sir, open the door”, rang a higher octave female voice.

Clay turned the deadbolt and cracked open the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked with his head protruding the space. Three officers were positioned at forty five degree angles along each post of the doorway.

They appeared heavy and intimidating, uniformed in dark navy blue tactical pants, matching shirts, and bulky kevlar vest. POLICE was printed in bold letters adjacent to an embroidered star. Their radios chirped loudly in the hall while each officer’s right hand loitered around the hip holster.

“Good Evening Sir” the female asked. “I’m Officer Allen, this is Officer Brown, and Corporal Johnson, are you Clayton Little?”

“Yes, Im Clayton”

“We are here responding to several calls regarding your Wife, Tonya Little, is she here?”

“No, she went to her Mother's house”

“Do you mind if we step inside for a moment Mr.Little” Officer Johnson asked. He looked to be the older of the three and smiled gently. “We would like to get some follow up information from you regarding your wife.”

Clay shook his head and moved away from the door.

Johnson, Allen, and Brown moved through the doorway filling the living room area. Clay was uneasy and seemed to be standing in a shrinking space.

Brown batted away two flies and rested his hands behind the shoulder girdles of his kevlar vest.

“What's that smell?” Allen asked, while her eyes panned the room.

“I'm supposed to take out the trash”, Clay responded.

“Yeah you need to get on that tonight.” Allen said, waving her hand across her nose.

Clay’s pupils shifted down and away toward the kitchen

“Mr. Little,” Johnson said, opening a small notebook. “When was the last time you spoke with your wife?”

“This morning, she called and asked me to go to the bank.”

“What about your daughter, have you spoken with her?”

“My daughter?”

Allen looked puzzled and shifted her body weight through her left leg. Brown batted another fly away.

“You do have a daughter don’t you Mr. Little?” Johnson questioned, flipping two pages backwards in his notebook. “I believe her name is Jasmine Little.”

“Oh yeah, Jasmine”, Clay answered and shivered.

Brown glanced at Johnson, Allen repositioned her body along a defensive angle. The moment was awkward and interrupted by a radio dispatch reporting gunshots in the vicinity of 75th and Cottage Grove.

Johnson lowered the volume control on his radio; Brown did the same.

“Mr. Little,” Johnson said. “Your Mother in law, one Cherise Rogers, filed a missing persons report 24 hours ago. According to her, your wife Tonya left her with Jasmine last Saturday. They went to the movies on Sunday and Tonya was supposed to pick up Jasmine Monday. But your Mother-in-law says she hasn’t seen or heard from Tonya since she left her on Saturday...uhh six days ago. She also claims that she hasn't been able to reach you either.”

“Mr. Little” Brown Asked, “You mentioned you spoke with your wife today?”

“Yes she uh, asked me to transfer money into our joint account.”

“Why is that” Allen Asked

“She wanted some money, -for the movies” Clay answered ludicly.

“Ok, so they all went to the movies,” Allen asked, looking confused. “Your Mother in Law, your Wife, and Jasmine?”

“No my wife is coming home, Cherise is suppose to take Jasmine to the movies tomorrow”

“Mr. Little” Brown asked, “is this your coat here on the sofa?”

“Yes”

“Looks wet, did you just get in or..”

“No no no, I was going to the ATM to transfer money into our joint account” Clay recapitulated, shaking his head between his hands. "Tonya dropped Jasmine off with her Grandmother Cherise today, and they’re going to the movies tomorrow. I need to transfer her some money, that's why I went to the ATM.”

Johnson slid the little notebook into his rear pants pocket and glanced at Allen.

“Mr. Little” Allen said softly “Do you mind if we take a look around?”

“No, did I say something wrong?”

“No sir, Mr. Little” Johnson said, nodding to Brown. “Just relax here on the sofa, Officer’s Brown and Allen are going to take a quick look around just so we can make sure everything is clear, then we’ll be out of your hair, Ok.”

Brown and Allen moved quietly through the narrow hall and disappeared into the apartment. Johnson stayed with Clay while he sat idly on the sofa.

Allen clicked on the bathroom lights and pulled a white vinyl shower curtain away from the tub. Three flies wandered away and drifted into the hall.

Brown eased into the master bedroom and peeked into the closet.

Johnson turned the volume up a notch on his radio, listening for more information on the shooting.

Brown moved into the kitchen.

Allen flipped on the light switch in the smaller bedroom.

“Corporal -Corporal Johnson!” Brown yelled.

Allen followed Brown’s voice and ran to the kitchen.

“Control, this is Echo 7, Blue team” Allen shouted. Her voice quivered as she stumbled backwards into the hall. “Control, this is Echo 7, Blue team! Code 130, Code 130, Code 130!”

“Get down, put your hands behind your head, Now!” Johnson yelled at Clay, drawing his weapon. “Brown, get in here!” he yelled.

Brown sprinted back to the living room, wrestled Clay to the floor, and clicked handcuffs around his wrist. Clayton Little lay handcuffed mindlessly on his belly.

Johnson’s pulse quickened and his palms felt moist as he slowly put one foot in front of the other. The hall contracted around him as he passed Allen leaning against the kitchen wall heaving air and holding back vomit.

Tonya’s lifeless body was sprawled across the kitchen table with a cleaver in her forehead. Her blood pooled on the table and spilled to the floor. A cast iron meat tenderizer was upside down on the corner of the table. It had been used to bash her skull into a gelatinous bowl of blood and mush.

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leelee10898 · 5 years

Text

Chikara: Zenshin suru (2/?)

Summary:Moving forward. At least thats what Ellie is trying to do. Meanwhile Colt finds trouble back home. Catch up HERE. If you would like added to the tag list, let me know.

Raiting: Mature. This series deals with violence, angst, death, sexual situations and bad choices. Read at your own risk.

Ellie sat up in disbelief oh you have got to be kidding me she flopped back down on the bed. "Oooh come on Ellie, its gonna be so much fun." Ellie rolled her eyes as she was lifted up off the bed. "Seriously Ingrid, how the hell did you end up in here? You had a different roommate." Ellie groaned, could her luck get any worse? A horribly emotional Thanksgiving, and now this, she was convinced someone hated her.

"Well," Ingrid flipped her hair and sat on ellies bed "I put in for a new roommate before Thanksgiving. She was horrible, she used to microwave liver, the dorm smelled like burnt rotten sneakers." She pointed her finger to her throat, making a gagging sound. "So they called with this opening and well, here I am!" She perked up. "Come on, there's a party tonight in the dorms across the quad, lets go."

"A party? God no. I'm really not in the mood to party, it was a long, long break and a long flight, you go on without me this time ok. " Ellie refused.

"No can do! I have watched you mope around this campus like a sad little puppy dog. It stops now! Get up, get your ass dressed." Ellie eyed Ingrid in disbelief, was she really going to allow her high school rival boss her around. She stared at Ingrid a moment longer, arms folded against her chest. "Fiiiiiiine!" She got up and started getting ready. Once she was fully dressed she grabbed Colts jacket and walked out the door.

They walked into the crowded halls of the building across the quad. The music pumping throughout, kegs in many of the rooms and almost everyone had a red solo cup in hand. "Want a beer?" Ingrid tried talking over the loud music. "No. I don't drink." She shouted back, Ingrid shrugged her shoulders "suit yourself." Ingrid paraded Ellie around, introducing her to so many people. She felt oddly out of place, but if she was going to try and move on, she figured maybe this was a start. What she wouldn't give to have Riya here with her now, but Riya was a little over an hour away at hartfeld. They were standing there talking to some girl Ingrid knew when two guys approached, one with Dark blonde hair, the other a brunette with stunning blue eyes. The girl walked away leaving the two of them, with the two guys. "Looking good Ingrid." The blonde smirked as he leaned in kissing Ingrid's cheek. "Kyle, this is Ellie. Ellie, kyle." Ellie gave him a shy wave. "Nice to meet you Ellie, this is my friend Nick." Kyle introduced the two.

Ingrid and Kyle were caught up in an intense, flirtatious conversation, leaving Ellie and Nick standing there. "So. You don't look like you want to be here." Nick finally broke the silence. "I'm not really into the whole party scene." She admitted. "Neither am I, I only came because Kyle wanted to see Ingrid." He chuckled as he stood next to Ellie. "Yeah. Ingrid drug me out. Still getting used to being friends with her, after being rivals for so long."

"Oh, so you two knew each other before college?" He quirked his brow, seemingly interested in having a conversation with her. "Yeah. We went to the same high school. Battled for valedictorian our senior year."

Nick leaned in a little closer. "And which one of you won it?" His voice low and Intoxicating. She bit her lower lip. Trying to stop the huge grin from spreading across her face. "I bet it was you. You got that smart and beautiful thing going for you." Her face was now beat red. "Beautiful huh?" She tried to even her voice, praying he didn't hear the slight tremor. "I call it how I see it. And you Ellie, are probably the most beautiful woman here." Ellie turned a deep shade of crimson, it had been a while since anyone flirted with her. She couldn't help but think about Colt, what he was doing in that moment, wondering if he even thought of her at all anymore. Ellie mentally reprimanded herself, she was trying to move on with her life, she needed to stop pretending that she and Colt were anything but a distant memory now. "Hey Nick, wanna dance?" Nick smiled wide "Lets do it."

****

California…

Colt climb off his bike and stashed it, he made his way quickly down the familiar street and ducked in the side through the loose boards. He had been coming to the shop here and there for a few months, ever since the heat from the FBI died down. He hadn't been in a couple weeks, he spent Thanksgiving break with his mom and he was itching to get back to the shop and continue his treasure hunt. He started in the back of the shop, mostly sticking to the private quarters. His pop wasn't like a regular blue collar guy, he didn't use a bank except for the legit auto shop account. Everything else he had was hidden in the shop like In the walls where one or more of his great grandparents installed a fireproof safe, Loose floorboards, hollowed out cabinets with a removable panel. Colt had found the deed to the garage, a copy of Kaneko's will leaving everything to him, the original he was certain in a safe deposit box somewhere, he knew he would have to piece clues together, it was what his dad did. He also found Several stacks of money, bonds and other property deeds.

He climbed the steps to Logans loft. He had yet to go up there, the bitter taste of Jealousy still thick on his tongue. He hated Logan from the moment he met him, he hated that a pretty boy was his father's prize poodle, he had the nice car, the good jobs, and he had Ellie eating out of the palm of his hand. He snorted, a smirk forming on his lips when that changed. He swore he could still feel the softness of her lips pressed against his, her arms wrapped tightly around him as they lost themselves in the pacific.

Colt walked through the room, stepping over debris, a gaping hole in the roof letting the moonlight shine in giving him some natural light.

He found a metal box under the burnt bed frame, he had to pry it open, not much inside except a few slips of paper and a flash drive. He checked his phone, 9pm. He had been there longer then he should. He pocketed the flash drive and descend the stairs to the bay. His eyes landed on something glimmering in the moonlight. He reached down to pick up the item, his heart caught in his chest as he realized what it was.

******

The day he took Ellie to her driving test, he wandered around inside the dmv, waiting for her to finish up. He knew she would pass, she was a natural. A rack of keychains sat displayed in front of him, he fumbled through them until he found the perfect one.

He waited outside as Ellie bounced out of the DMV, a freshly printed license in hand. "I passed, I passed!" She squealed as she threw her arms around Colts neck. "Congratulations. Here I got you something." He held out the silver crown keychain. Ellie looked between him and the key chain, as she took it out of his hand "thank you colt. But why a crown?" Colt shrugged his shoulders, "I'll tell you later, now come on let's get back to the shop."

*******

How did it get here? He knew Ellie had it on her keychain when she left for school, she hadn't been back to the shop after that night, unless. Unless she was there, sometime while he was away. He felt the lump in this throat grow bigger, she was there and he could have seen her. In that moment the need to see her, to feel her in his arms, to hear her voice, taste the sweetness of her lips. It was all too much to bare. He shook the thoughts from his head, she was at Langston, safely away from the crime ridden streets of LA, it wouldn't be long until he was with her again.

He put the keychain in his pocket, along with the flash drive and headed to where he stashed his bike a few blocks over. He kept looking over his shoulder, a nagging feeling he was being followed. He got to his stash spot, attempting to quickly climb on his bike and start it and thats when he hit him. Colt crashed to the ground with a thud, his bike coming with him. He had just enough time to roll as his attacker came down on him with a knife. He sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. His assailant charged forward, colt side stepping, grabbing the attacker by the arm, bringing his elbow down on his shoulder, the knife hitting the ground with a clatter.

The man clutched his shoulder, crying out in pain. "Wrong choice buddy. Guess you don't know who I am?" Colt spat as the man turned, baring a rage filled face. "I don't ask names, I do what im told." He circled Colt, looking for his opening when his fist connected hard with Colts jaw. The attacker grabbed the knife, as colt lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. Colts first landing blow after blow, the man lifted his hand, slicing into colts side. Fuck! Colt screamed out in pain, it only fueled his rage further as he screamed "Who sent you?" he screamed as he twisted his body bringing the mans arm behind him,incapacitating him. "Arg, not going. To tell you." Colt shook his head as he pulled his arm further behind him. "Ahhh. Wallace. His names wallace." Satisfied colt released his hold on the man, shoving him to the ground. "Of course he didnt give you a fucking name. The little bitch. He knew you'd never fucking do it." Colt circled the man, stalking him like a lion and he was his prey. The man looked up at him confused, A devious smirk played on his lips, "the names Kaneko." He let the name set in. "I'm thinking the letters M.P.C are flashing in your mind right now aren't they?" The man sat there, paralyzed in fear. "Now, you run and tell all your friends, that MPC still runs things." The man nodded his head and took off.

Colt clutched his side, the realization that he was hurt crashing down on him at once. He hopped on his bike, flying down the highway to the only place he could think to go.

He pulled up to a small house in a backwoods California town, Killed the engine and walked to the house. He reached the door, banging harder than necessary. "Colt. What the hell are you doing here?" The voice spoke through the latched door. "I know. I'm sorry but, its an emergency." He pulled his blood covered hand from his side. "I need your help."

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#chikara rod fan fic #ride or die bad boy romance #choices ride or die #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #colt x mc #i love colt kaneko #leelee10898 fan fic

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borhapparker · 5 years

Text

sheer heart attack | chapter two

summary: you are the instructor for ‘bohemian rhapsody’, getting paid to teach the cast how to play their respective instruments. from an early age, youve known how to play the piano, the drums, the bass and the electric/acoustic guitar. forming a tight bond with rami, gwilym, ben and joe, all of you would hang out im each other’s trailers, creating a lasting friendship between all of you. this causes the ripple of them wanting you to be in all the interviews possible during the press tours, even if you werent on the list for interviews, which caused for some buried secrets to come to life and some crushes to be revealed.

word count: 3.1k

pairing: none just yet!

fic masterlist | playlist (apple music / spotify)

The next morning was eventful, as you woke up to your phone buzzing at the sound of a call. Feeling the nightstand blindly for your phone, you quickly disconnected it, and answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" your voice cracked, since you've just woken up.

"Y/n? Where are you?" Ryan, your producer said, as you slowly sat up, the phone still pressed to your ear, as you looked at the clock: 6:30am.

"I was asleep? Why? I'm supposed to come in to the studio in an hour." you said, a yawn escaping your lips as you finished your sentence.

"Well, we need you in a half hour. We have an artist willing to collaborate. Remember when we talked about this a couple months ago?"

"Mhm. So he's willing to come in as well? So we can record today before I have rehearsals for my upcoming project?" you asked, slowly getting out of bed, and heading to the kitchen.

"Yeah, he'll be here at the recording studio in a half hour. Can you be here?" you listened, as you made your coffee, and headed back to your room, mug in hand.

"I can be there. How long will this take?"

"Well, we're hoping we can record at least two to three songs today before your rehearsals, so from seven to nine thirty would be ideal, but we'll see. Depends on what we might have come up, if we can get the band in, and if our collaborator comes in on time as well. I'll see you here in a half hour. Drive safely, I know you when you're half asleep." he laughed, as you chuckled, before smiling, setting your mug down on the nightstand.

"I will. I'll see you." hanging up, you headed to the closet, grabbing a change of clothes before heading to the shower and warming up the water while you stripped.

Taking a quick 8 minute shower, you turned off the water, before grabbing your towel, drying yourself off and slipping on your clothes. You opened the cabinet, grabbing your hair products and applying them before turning off the light in the bathroom and heading out. Slipping on your black vans, you grabbed your mug, backpack, and your phone from the nightstand before walking out of your room and finishing your coffee. Passing the kitchen, you placed the empty mug in the sink, grabbing your car keys from the kitchen island and heading out the door. Locking it behind you, the sun kissed your skin as you walked to your car, the warmth of the LA weather bringing you a sense of comfort and peace that had been absent during the rainy days. Unlocking the car, you stepped in, placing your backpack on the seat and closing the door, before turning on the ignition and driving out of your driveway and towards the recording studio.

The parking lot was half full, spot closest to the entrance was free, and you parked your car there, before stepping out, and heading inside. Ryan met you at the door, giving you a hug before leading you straight into the recording booth. Walking inside, the artist who was collaborating with you had their back to the door, as you recognized their hair and smiled. Upon hearing footsteps coming inside the booth, everyone turned, small cheers coming from your friends and people you'd talked to during your time as an artist.

"Hey, look who's here!" your manager called out as she came up to hug you, a smile on your face as the artist turned.

"Y/n, so nice to finally meet you. Niall Horan, at your service." he held out his hand, shaking yours as you smiled.

"Nice to finally meet you. I've been a fan for a long time. Thanks for agreeing to collaborate!"

He shrugged, a smile on his face. "Couldn't pass up the opportunity to work with a great singer and guitar player." he turned to your manager, before turning back to you. "Ready to start?"

You nodded, smile on your face as you put your backpack down in the booth, taking out the lyrics you had printed out the night before, wanting to have them ready as you gave Niall his copy.

"Here's yours. It's the newest updated version." you said as he nodded, scanning the lyrics, and mumbling the beat to himself. Turning back to you, he followed you inside the booth, slipping on his own headphones and standing behind his own mic as you did the same, behind another glass door, headphones over your own ears and standing behind the other microphone.

With a final nod from you manager behind the glass, the music started, as both you and Niall began to sing the first lyrics to the song.

The cast had arrived at the studio a half hour before you were due to meet with them, as they walked inside and met with the receptionist.

"We're here for rehearsals with Y/n. 10am." she nodded, before picking up her phone and dialing. She hung up and turned to them.

"She's still recording. Would you like to go see her?" they nodded, as she motioned for them to follow her. She led them to a room, much like a recording booth, as she knocked before opening the door and letting them in.

Your manager smiled at them, motioning for them to look over at the far right, as they turned, noticing you, headphones on and eyes closed. The music stopped, as the manager went over to the microphone in the booth. "Y/n?"

You opened your eyes, looking up, and noticing the cast. Smiling, you waved at them. "Yeah?"

"Try it again. Cut off that last verse, and bring it in a 180 when you do your falsettos." you nodded once more before putting a thumbs up and the music started once more.

Your voice rung through the booth, as the music followed your beat, before you cut it short and made the casts' eyes widen, your falsettos bouncing through the speakers. Your manager did a thumbs up, as they heard another voice come in through the speakers and looked to your left, noticing another famous singer following your lead on the bridge of the song.

The cast watched with smiles on their faces and impressed looks, as your voices combined together, mixing with the music and creating a beautiful harmony. The song was stopped, as you both removed your headphones and headed out of the recording booth. Both of you took a listen to the song, before you shook your head, wanting to record the guitar solo once more.

"Hey, Gwilym, you know how to play guitar, right?" you turned to him, as he nodded, a smile on his own face. "Would you mind playing it for the song?"

He nodded, before being directed inside the recording booth, handing him your guitar as he sat down, looking at the sheet of paper with the chords and speed. "At what beat should I play at?" you tapped her foot to the beat as he memorized it, and with a final nod, you walked out of the booth, closing the door and starting the music. He positioned his fingers over the fret board, before strumming the chords, his face twisting in concentration as his lips pulled into a smile. You pushed on a button, as the guitar solo was amplified, the chords ringing through the speakers and into everyones ears. As soon as it began, he finished the solo, as you stopped the track, nodding at him with a smile.

He placed the guitar down before walking out with a smile on his face. "That was incredible." he said, as you smiled, wrapping him in a hug and thanking him.

"You did perfectly! Definitely made the song a lot better than I could've made it. Thank you!" you said, as he only nodded, joining the rest of the cast as your manager finished jotting down some notes for herself later, before nodding at you. "Alright, we're done here now. We can head over for rehearsal."

They all nodded and walked with you, heading into another room with various instruments. "Alright boys, choose your pick."

Gwilym and Joe headed immediately to the bass and electric guitars, choosing their favorites as Rami walked to the piano and Ben to the drums. They each grabbed a different instrument, as you headed to the corner of the room, grabbing your own guitar and tuning it.

"Alright, everyone sit at your instrument and I'll be there in a bit. I'll start with Joe, then Rami, Ben and finally Gwilym. Just, give me 10 minutes, and I'll be there for you guys." they all nodded, as Joe smiled, his bass guitar in his arms. Sitting in front of him, you grabbed a nearby bass guitar, tuning the strings, before looking up. "You ready?"

He nodded, as you positioned your hands on the D string and 12th fret, before strumming 6 times, and then moving to the A string and strumming once. Joe's face lit up, as he recognized the song. You shrugged, "Well, you gotta start somewhere."

He mimicked your fingers on the fret board of his guitar, as he played. His tempo was a little slow, as you started tapping your foot to the beat, as he matched it, slowly getting the hang of it. You moved your fingers back to the D string, then to the A string. Strumming, you matched his tempo, as he strummed alongside you, a smile on his face at seeing his natural ability to play the bass guitar.

You kept this up, showing him the basics, how to read tabs and chords, as he followed along. "If you need my help, let me know. I'm starting you with something fairly easy, but we'll switch in a while." He nodded, as you propped your guitar, before walking over to the grand piano in the corner of the room. Rami was sitting on the bench, scrolling through his phone as he smiled upon noticing you, slipping his phone into his pocket and making room for you on the bench.

"Alright," you rubbed your hands, turning to look at Rami, "There are 88 keys in total, 52 white keys and 33 black keys. The white keys on the piano are named after seven letters of the alphabet and they're pretty simple to memorize: A, B, C, D, E, F, and G. The only thing to remember is that in the musical alphabet, it always starts with the letter C because it's the most basic note. All the black keys are major or sharp notes. If you look on the sheet," you grabbed the music sheet and showed it to him, pointing out certain notes, "You will see that some notes have a number sign over it, kind of like an exponent. That means that note is a sharp, which means you'll play the black key instead of the white."

Rami nodded along, taking pointers in his head as you kept explaining, before showing him how to play.

"We're going to do a pretty simple song to start with. It's called 'Chopsticks'." you placed your hands on the keys, playing slowly as he followed along. Stopping, you placed your hands on the same keys as you started. "Now, place your hands exactly where mine are."

He did as you said, as you pressed your fingers over his, showing him the rhythm. "As you keep playing and get the hang of it, you start using the pedals on the bottom to either soften your sound or mute it. As you go, you get the hang of it and it comes naturally. So don't stress too much about it." He slowly got the hang of the song, as you removed your hands. "Try it by yourself."

You did a couple different songs with him, as he reassured you that he would keep practicing. Nodding, you got up from the bench, before heading to Ben, who waited patiently by the drums. He spun in a chair, a smile on his face, as he stopped, facing you. "Ready?"

He nodded, and you sat at the drums. Grabbing the sticks, you twirled them between your fingers. Turning, you turned on the metronome behind you, pointing to it and looking at Ben. "This, is a metronome. You probably already heard of this, but since you're starting, we're going to use this to match a beat. I'm gonna drum a pretty simple beat, and I want you to replicate it. It's gonna take a couple times to get it, so don't get frustrated, okay?" he only smiled, as you twirled the drumsticks between your fingers once more before starting the simple beat. You hit the hi-hat on beats 1 through 4, counting out loud. Then, you used the kick drum on beats 1 and 3, as well as the hi-hats at the same time. After a couple beats, you added the snare drum in, hitting them at beats 2 and 4 in addition to both the kick drum and the hi-hats. Ben watched, eyes wide, as he noticed your multitasking ability before you stopped.

"That's a lot." Ben said, as you only laughed.

"It's okay, you'll get used to it. Here, let's switch. Just hit the hi-hats for four beats. Then, we'll keep going." you got up as he sat in the seat you were in. Pointing to the metronome, you turned to him, "Use this as your beat. Listen and follow." He nodded, before mimicking the beat from the metronome you on the hi-hats. Keeping the beat, you asked him to start the kick drum on the first and third beat, letting him get the hang of it. He kept going after a while, before adding in the snare drum. He messed up a couple times, and kept trying, before getting the hang of the simple beat. "Alright, that's good." he stopped, a smile on his face, as you showed him another beat, using the same three drums. "Keep practicing, I'll be back."

Walking over to Gwilym, he looked up, smiling, holding the electric guitar in one hand. "A Gibson Les Paul. Great choice." he shrugged, as you sat in front of him, your own guitar in your arms. "So, you know your basics."

"Been playing for a while. Just need more practice." he said, as you smiled, nodding along.

"Well, Brian's solos in most songs are pretty simple once you get the hang of it and since he doesn't read or write music sheets, we need to play by ear. Any particular song you want to start with?" he shook his head, as you chose a random song off the top of your head. "How about we start with Bohemian Rhapsody? Since it's the main song in the movie." he nodded, "Alright. Follow my lead."

You placed your fingers on the 8th fret on the D string, as Gwilym matched your movements and you strummed, before switching to the G string on the 10th fret and you strummed, bending the string, before switching to the 12th fret and doing the same, then the 10th, 8th, and back to the B string on the 11th fret, 8, 11 with a bend, and 13. You moved quickly, as Gwilym caught up at his pace. Only doing the first couple tabs, you let Gwilym catch up as you strummed at the same time, before you kept playing. The guitar rhythm rung through the entire room as you stopped, and had Gwilym start again from the beginning.

"Nice, nice. That's really good. Here, let's try another song."

The rest of rehearsal was spent equal time with each of the actors, as they practiced their own instruments as well as receiving pointers from you. Three hours later, you asked your manager to order food for all of you. You wanted to make sure the boys were in the correct state for when you had to start filming.

"So, how do you guys feel?" you asked, as you all sat around a table, food on the top and a plate in each of your hands.

"A little sore, but I'm feeling good about where I'm at." Joe said, as you nodded.

"Me too. It's been tough with the drumming, but I'm getting the hang of it." Ben said, the rest only nodding.

"Good, so each of you need to start practicing at home. Listen to the songs, play by ear, look for the music charts and sheets online. If you can't find any, then text me and I'll get them for you. It just takes time and practice." you said, as all of them nodded with a smile. "Alright, who wants to keep going?"

They all nodded, as they finished up eating. Smiling, you headed to the electric guitar, picking yours up and turning on the amp, adjusting the volume from your guitar. "I'll play something for you guys while you finish up." Their eyes were fixed on you as you adjusted the guitar on your lap, before placing your fingers on the B string on the 15th fret, before strumming and releasing, sliding down to the 17th fret and strumming twice then releasing, and moving to 15th, 12th, 15 again with a vibrato. 12th again, moving to the G string on the 15th fret, up to the "e" string on the 12th, G again, 15, 14, 12, 14, 12, D on 14. You placed two fingers on both the G and B string on the 12th fret, strumming with a vibrato on both, then removing one finger and going back to G with 14, 12, up to the A string on the 14th fret, and again with both fingers on G and B on the 12th fret with a vibrato. This kept going on, as they watched, Gwilym and Rami with smiles on their faces as they recognized the song then the others joined in. As you finished the solo of Brighton Rock, you looked up at them, as they clapped for you.

"That was incredible." Joe said, as you shrugged, a smile on your face.

"It was okay, I'm still improving. You guys will be able to play better over the next couple weeks. It just takes practice." you said, as they all headed to their instruments, waiting for you.

"Alright, let's finish up rehearsals. Who's next?" you said with a smile, as they smiled back.

Your eyes scanned the room, choosing Rami to help out first as they rest waited, practicing by themselves.

Yet, a couple minutes ago, while you were playing the guitar, you hadn't noticed their stares. Their lingering eyes, the beating of their hearts, the acceleration of their pulse. The way they watched you with a little something other than a friend's stare, something other than what you had experienced in a while. Something was different about them, change was definitely in the air. But maybe change was a good thing, if it meant that change would include you.

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catsdaydreams · 5 years

Text

A Warm Welcome

IDK what Im doing with my blog or my life but here’s to starting a non TRR series. :party emoji:

Sneak peek at a new series!! cannonish

Enjoy?

The elementalist chronicles, PT 1

PermaTag: @cora-nova

Sabrina raced across the campus glancing at the clock tower in the distance. She was going to be late for her career planner meeting for sure. Every second that she watched ticking by felt like a personal taunt on behalf of the clock. “Shit she muttered, trying to pick up the pace. She eyed the double doors to the building straight ahead and slowed down to avoid crashing straight into them. Once inside she blinked the sunlight out of her eyes, speed walking the corridor half blind from the lighting transition and almost into the planner herself.

“Oh! Sabrina! You’re early.” The planner said with a frown checking her watch. “You aren’t supposed to be here for another ten minutes.” She chided knowingly. “Well, if you’re on time you’re late.” Sabrina huffed, repeating the mantra she’d been told and taught by her ever-barring father since childhood. She put on her best smile and extended a hand towards the planner, “Sabrina Russell.” The planner returned her smile, and shook Sabrina’s hand, “Ms. Robertson, my office is right around this corner.” She said, motioning to the hall to Sabrina’s left.

The two turned and entered the first door on the right and Sabrina took her spot in the chair opposite of the desk and waited patiently while Ms. Robertson organized herself and pulled out Sabrina’s file. “Now, Ms. Russell, we usually don’t schedule a meeting until the end of first year so that you can decide on what you would like to major in and we help you start to point towards that goal. However you requested to move this meeting up, and we allowed it based on your high marks. Is there a major you have in mind?” Ms. Robertson said, hands clasped over the manila folder on the desk in between them.

Sabrina saw her name printed on the side, knowing that her parents were worried for her and called this meeting on her behalf, pulling alumni favors to get the meeting pushed up. The truth was she had no idea what she wanted to major in. It felt as if all of the motivation and drive she had the year leading up to college simply vanished once she started classes. Everything just seemed so dreadfully boring compared to how she thought college would feel, not that she really knew what to expect. Knowledge retention and conceptual understand came as easily to her as breathing, and so being a straight A student was effortless. The problem was, she didn’t know who to be outside of class. A numbness had eaten away at her energy and motivation, she spent most of her days laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with headphones in and not really noticing the music that she was listening to. Life seemed like a haze.

“Actually, Ms. Robertson. That’s the problem. I don’t have a major in mind, in fact I feel like I don’t belong here, like I’m meant to be somewhere else.” Sabrina replied honestly. The older lady peered at her curiously, “what do you mean?” she asked and Sabrina let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know. I always thought college would be exciting. Maybe even magical.” She said wistfully, a pit of longing in her stomach. “There’s a treasure trove of knowledge here which I always thought would be my dream. But it’s like I’m numb, and bored. I’m not so sure Hartfield was the best choice for me any more.” Ms. Robertson nodded in understanding. “Well, it sounds like you have the freshman blues.” She said, peering into Sabrina’s emerald eyes. The older lady pensively waited for a reaction, however she would get none from Sabrina who had already expected this reaction. She didn’t realize it but her answer had silently sealed the final nail in the coffin, finalizing Sabrina’s resolve to transfer schools. Sabrina already had a slew of acceptance offers from other universities, and if Hartfield was simply going to brush off her concerns then she would find a school that wouldn't, and would also challenge her.

Her parents would be furious of course, but Sabrina could tune them out easily enough. She had already informed her of her intent to stay at the school over winter break, not that she suspected her parents cared. They would likely be vacationing abroad somewhere European anyway. Sabrina recalled her mother talking about attending some apple festival somewhere soon and presumed it would be their winter getaway. Ms. Robertson continued, not realizing that Sabrina had already tuned her out, responding only in key places enough so that the women wasn’t aware of her lack of attention.

After an hour that Sabrina honestly couldn’t recall, she found her way back to her dorm room. She ran her fingers over the mess on the desk, glancing at the half made bed and clothes on the floor while making a mental packing list for the morning. She made her way to the bathroom leaning over the sink and looking at herself in the mirror. She noted the way her eyes seemed dull, and her skin seemed flat and plain. Sabrina turned the facet on to cold water, closing her eyes and splashing some of it into her face as if it would be the magical solution to her resistant state of mind. She blinked rapidly a few times, reaching for the hand towel and drying off her face before glancing up to meet her own dull looking eyes in the mirror.

Except it wasn’t her own eyes staring back. A pair of almost identical green eyes stared back, alert and concerned and watching her silently. “What the hell?” Sabrina reeled, looking at her reflection not copying her actions. She stared incredulously before reaching out to touch the mirror, finding instead a cool liquid that sent ripples out where her finger connected with it. “Whoa,” she breathed, tracing her finger lightly across the surface, ripples of disruption following her touch. She wondered what would happen should she just decide to push her hand in... and suddenly she couldn’t pull her hand back out. “Oh no.” She said, her heart quickening. She gently tugged on her arm, willing her hand to reappear, instead her arm sinking further and faster the more she fought.

Sabrina sucked in a breath as she was pulled the rest of the way through the mirror, feeling as if every ounce of air in her body was being forced out through her throat. A flash of light and a sensation she couldn’t quite place and suddenly she was standing outside near a lake. A little too close to the lake she realized as she began to lose her balance on the muddy embankment. She yelped in surprise as she toppled towards the water, a friendly hand reaching out and grasping her wrist and pulling her away at the last second.

“Woah there freshman!” An unfamiliar voice called out, sounding like warm honey on a cold day. The mysterious stranger wrapped a hand around her other shoulder, trying to help her balance. She met his chocolate brown eyes and matched them to his flawless complexion. “Um, thanks.” Sabrina stuttered out. She looked around bewildered, suddenly realizing that she was soaked. “Here let me help you dry off,” the stranger chuckled, making strange motions with his hand. A breeze blew by Sabrina, with an impossibly gentle force that seemed to instantly dry her clothes and most of her hair. She looked down at her clothes incredulously.

“You missed the hall of mirrors by a mile there.” He laughed good naturedly, “I’m Griffin, a second year here and an earth-att.” He said proudly. Sabrina stared at him, not sure how to process what was happening here. She looked around at the picturesque scenery in front of her, a large statue surrounded by cottage inspired buildings enclosing it. The lake she had stepped out of seemed to run along the edge of the buildings, almost like a moat encompassing the structures in the middle. A beautiful ornate bridge sat a few feet to her left, providing safe dry passage to the other side leading to a dirt road into a thick patch of trees.

“Where the hell am I?” Sabrina asked incredulously, it was only then that she noticed the other people milling about on the ground and somehow, in the air! Sabrina watched wide eyed, wondering how in the world it was possible when a voice filled with sheer disdain broke her trance. “Don’t you know there are entry protocols? You should have entered through the mirrors like the rest of us.” Sabrina searched for the source and met the gaze of a boy about her age peering at her through judgmental eyes. Griffin rolled his eyes at the intrusion, “Doesn’t the great Beckett Harrington have anything better to do with his time?” Beckett glared at Griffin, narrowing his eyes, “Actually, yes. Freshman orientation starts in 15 minutes and I need to be on my way.” He sneered, before turning on his heel and walking the opposite direction.

Griffin rolled his eyes yet again and met Sabrina’s, “Don’t mind him. Not everyone here at Penderghast is like that.” He said, begininng to lead her away from the edge of the water. “Penderghast?” Sabrina asked confusedly. Griffin stared at her blankly, “Yeah? Pengerghast college of elemental Magicks? You know, the one you’re currently attending?” He said. A few moments passed before Griffin narrowed his eyes at her, “You are a student here right?” Sabrina froze. She couldn't decide if it was a dream or real, and if it was she didn’t want it to end. She suspected that she had been transported here by mistake and simply nodded in response, not quite sure if she should lie or tell the truth.

Griffin smiled, the suspicion lifting from his eyes. “Do you need help getting to orientation?” He offered. Sabrina nodded again, still in shock. So magic is..real? Or was this some kind of fever dream? Perhaps she had hit her head in the bathroom and was hallucinating. She stayed lost in thought as she trailed beside Griffin, half listening as he babbled on. “And that is the security system, it vaporizes intruders.” He said nodding at the large statue in the center, its head followed the pair as the passed by. Sabrina’s heart raced with each step as she wondered when the vaporizing blow would come. After an agonizing minute the statue seemed satisfied and resumed it gaze around the campus, and Sabrina let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. They made their way inside of one of the cottages, which seemed mansion like on the inside. Griffin made twists and turns and Sabrina trailed along beside him. “So for future reference, this is the hall of mirrors where you're supposed to come in.” He said opening a door to reveal a circular room filled with all different types of mirrors. The walls were littered with small circular mirrors, floor length mirrors, square mirrors and mirrors of all varying sizes.

“Aw, hell.” The pair heard, as they both turned to see a beautiful brunette trying to pull her foot the rest of the way through. She stumbles when it finally comes out, landing straight into Sabrina’s arm as she does.

“Oops.” She giggles, “Shreya Mistry, in your arms and at your service. Good catch, by the way.” She says beaming at Sabrina. Her dark curls match her tan complexion Sabrina notices as she helps the girl regain her balance. “ I much prefer air travel.” Shreya says, giving her a knowing look. Sabrina laughs awkwardly, “yeah.” She states. Shreya glances over at Griffin who introduces himself. “I was a few minutes away from being a month late,” she laughs as she heads toward the room entrance. “Why a month?” Sabrina asks curiously, suddenly wondering how long it took her to get from her dorm room to the current location. “Because that’s the next time the wards will be down to travel for visitors day.” She states matter of factly. Sabrina nods, “right!” she says as if she has any idea what Shreya is talking about.

Sabrina decides then and there that she is staying at Penderghast as long as she can before anyone realizes that she doesn’t belong.

#the elementalist #beckett harrington #griffin #shreya mistry #choices #play choices #fanfic #cats back lmao

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