#it was a fun and really cathartic weekend for me

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 11 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10

Making the scrapbook was cathartic. Remembering the good times, the innocence of your childhood, was as much of a joy as it was painful. The pictures were all quite good quality since Abuela had had a film camera. Some photos had been taken with a digital camera, which had probably originally belonged to the Georges and ended up in your possession somewhere along the way.

Regina and yourself playing in the Georges' backyard and swimming in their pool, beaming smiles directed at the camera. You could almost hear the laughter. I miss when we used to be able to just have fun together like this. I guess it's a part of growing up.

Regina in a white frilly dress, carrying a small basket of flower petals, donning a crown of roses on her head. She was pouting, clearly unimpressed by the whole thing. You hadn't been at the wedding since it was a George event, but Regina's mom had been so elated her daughter had gotten to be the flower girl. I remember I was so jealous you got to go to a wedding and I couldn't. You hated it, though, which was funny. You used to leave the room whenever your mom insisted we watch the tape. I wonder if she still has it.

You sitting with Regina, hip to hip, on plastic chairs while a newlyborn Kylie slept in your laps. Regina, eyes stuck on her baby sister and a thoughtful look on her face, while you looked at the camera with a smile. She's growing up so fast. Don't think I don't know you care about her. There's gonna be a time you'll regret not spending time with her. I already feel it.

Mrs George, Abuela, Regina, Kylie in her mom's arms, and you grouped together at a parking lot. You and Regina had on little graduation gowns and had scrolls in your hands. Elementary school graduation. The summer before middle school. End of an era. I love your mom's clothes, they're so nineties. Does she still have those jeans? You should get ahold of them before somebody else does...

Remember when I sliced my hand open when we were peeling apples? That was a time for sure. I still have the scar!

You taped pictures onto the pages, wrote little things here and there, hoping the labour of your love wouldn't end up in the garbage. Or if it did, Regina would read skim through it first.

I think this album was the first time we agreed on music. Britney Spears really brought us together, huh? We even learned the choreography of Baby One More Time. Mrs George loved it. I bet there's a video of that somewhere.

Mostly the scrapbook was filled with anecdotes about your childhoods together. You did write a letter of sorts on the first page, regarding your intentions with the whole thing.

I made this for you to commemorate the good times we had. You know me regrettably well, so I think you know how I tend to hold onto things. I still have that gaudy pink Build-A-Bear you made me for Valentine's Day that one time. It's one of my most important possessions, only second to the memories we have together. You'll always be a friend to me, Reggie. If not forever, or from now on, then back then. I love you. Yours, Jorts.

You'd pretty much finished the whole thing by the end of the weekend. You spent Monday and Tuesday decorating the front cover, mostly because you purposefully put it off. You cut out letters from magazines and glued them there, painstakingly forming the words Reggie & Jorts. You'd tried to come up with something clever, but making a pun or a dumb joke felt like cheapening the whole album. A simple name made up for with fabulous decorations!

You weren't much of a painter, but you figured it'd be fitting if the album reflected its contents. It was fine if the roses you painted looked like a five-year-old did them. A good majority of the pictures featured you and Regina huddled around a crafts table, similar projects scattered all around you, young with clumsy hands but filled with artistic passion.

The album in itself was an earthy green colour, something Regina undoubtedly found ugly. The flowers brightened it up somewhat, but there was only so much ages-old acrylic paints could do. You outlined some with Sharpies. If you didn't know better, one could assume it looked like that on purpose.

You took it with you to school on Wednesday. You had it weighing your backpack down the whole day. You sweated under all your layers, and by the end of it, you were sure you were sporting some epic pit stains. Gross, but you were so nervous. You hadn't broken into anyone's locker in so long. And it was Regina George's locker.

You loitered around the hallways as they emptied out steadily, people heading home or off to extracurriculars. As you approached Regina's locker, you swallowed down your nervousness and got to work.

It wasn't hard. The combination locks were all old and weak, more of a formality than an actual barrier between one's stuff and a burglar. The lock clicked open easily and you wasted no time in stuffing your album inside.

"Hey!" Just as the resounding click of the lock going back into place came, a voice called out to you. "What are you doing with Regina's locker?"

"Uhh..." Gretchen Wieners stood at the intersection of hallways, hands on her hips and accusatory eyes burning holes in you. You made the swift decision that you did not have time for this. You booked it.

"Hey! Get back here!" Gretchen, surprisingly considering her heels, started after you. "What did you put in it? You cannot prank Regina, or- or, oh, was it a bomb?"

"It's not a bomb!" You shouted over your shoulder, sprinting towards the exit. The aggressive clacking of Gretchen's heels on the floors as she ran after you would surely haunt your nightmares. How could she even keep up with you?

"If it's not a bomb then what!" How was she closing in on you? It seemed like she was not even fazed by your little race, meanwhile, you were already winded. The exit was not that far away, but it felt like miles.

"It's Regina's business now! Ask her tomorrow at school or something!" The doors to freedom approached. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running!"

"No!"

You burst out and quickly hopped down the stairs, two at a time. Gretchen was still on your tail, but once she got to the top of the stairs shouted: "Karen! Tackle her!"

You hadn't even noticed Karen fucking Shetty. There was no not noticing her when the girl sprinted at you with perfect athletic form and squashed you to the pavement like a linebacker.

You collided and flew onto the grass. Better than concrete but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Get off of me!" You tried to get out from under her, but Karen was surprisingly dense. She was small but it was as if there were stones in her body instead of organs. "Fuck!"

"Keep her there, Karen, very good."

"Thanks!" Karen beamed, which was a much more common expression on her than the bloodlust she'd shown earlier.

"This has nothing to do with you." You snarled, still wriggling. "This is between Regina and me."

"Whatever's between Regina is between us," Gretchen said, all hoity-toity. "Now, tell me exactly what you put in her locker."

"A fucking photo album." You hissed, closing your eyes and clenching your jaw. What lie could you come up with? "Our families used to know each other. It's mostly pictures of her, so I just thought to... Return it."

"Oh, that's so nice!" Karen's hold loosened and you went to escape.

"Nuh-uh, not good enough." Just like that, Karen's weight slammed back down onto you. Your breath wooshed out of your lungs.

"What more do you want?" You wheezed out, getting sick and tired of this.

"Why was it in your possession?"

"I don't fucking know! It just was!"

"Hmm. And why couldn't you just give it to her?"

"You think that would've gone well, Gretchen? Seriously?" You turned your head with great effort, staring up at the girl. "Please, just let me go."

"I don't think I believe you." Gretchen squatted next to your head. "We're going back and checking it's what you say it is. And then you might be free to go."

"Fuck you." You hissed but made no move to book it when Karen hauled you up.

"That's not very nice." Karen pointed out.

"I don't want to be nice to Gretchen right now." You had no real issue with Karen, even if she had just tackled you.

"Oh, okay." You couldn't see her when she was holding your wrists behind your back, but you could imagine she was bobbing her head up and down like she was known to do.

You were walked back into the building, going mostly without a fight. Gretchen strutted along proudly as if capturing you was some great victory. Regina had trained her well. You weren't sure if that was impressive or just sad.

"Open it." Gretchen gestured once you were back at Regina's locker.

"I need my hands to do that." You helped out, smiling at Gretchen like she was stupid. Sputtering and offended, she instructed Karen to let go.

Instead of running like you should've, taking the chance you could get out if Karen didn't get a one-up on you, you obediently cracked the code again. Was it selfish that you kind of wanted others to know about you and Regina? Was it totally horrible of you to want to know it was real and have proof of that? Well, if it was, there was no helping it.

Gretchen snatched the album from the locker before you could even think to touch it. Karen sidled up to her, peering over her shoulder as she opened it.

You stood by, waiting for their judgement and looking at the ceiling. There'd been a water leak right there, based on the discolouration. Gross.

"You... You're J. J is for Jorts." Gretchen said. She sounded weird, like hollow or something. "J is for Jorts." She said again, breathy and disbelieving.

"What?" What the fuck was going on?

Karen spoke then. "She talks about J a lot. Like, a lot a lot. A whole lot." You nodded slowly as Karen went on. "J's like, her true love. It's so cute."

"J is not her true love, Karen! They are both girls." Gretchen pointed out. You had to agree. "Are they?" She looked you up and down judgementally.

"Yes. I am a girl." You said. It was true, you were female and around the age that it was acceptable to be referred to as a girl. Even so, it made you distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hmm." Gretchen didn't seem to believe you. Karen was busy cooing at the pictures of small Regina. It was sheer luck they hadn't bothered to read your writings.

"Look, can I go now? I know I'm busted, you're probably gonna confiscate the album, and Regina will never see it. Happy?"

"No. Karen, please put it back in the locker." Gretchen said, not taking her eyes off of you. Karen did as asked with a pout. "What is your relationship with Regina?" The album was back in the locker, but it hadn't been locked again.

"Nothing." And that was true. There was nothing there anymore.

"That's a lie and you know it. If you're J, then you've known each other at least since middle school. Based on the pictures, even longer."

"Who is J?" You asked in exasperation.

"Somebody who she has protected for years now. Somebody who is always better than we could ever be." Gretchen pointed between herself and Karen. "J is important to her."

"Okay, well, good for J, I guess."

"You're so infuriating." Gretchen sighed, pinching the skin between her eyes.

"You aren't the first to tell me that."

"Of course, because Regina has said that to you. Because you've known each other forever. Because you're J."

"Listen, I may look a bit butch, but I have a perfectly ordinary girl name."

"That is not the point!" She spoke fast and high-pitched. "You. It's you. You've been under our noses this entire time! Do you realize how much easier things could've been if you were around?"

"Excuse me?" Now, you were really lost.

"You're excused," Karen said cheerfully. You nodded to her in thanks.

"We could never be as good as you. It was like we were placeholders for the ultimate pretty girl she'd somehow let slip. And it's you. In a flannel and hoodie, ratty jeans, dirty shoes, no fashion sense to speak of. It's you." She said that last part with contempt.

You were reeling. Regina had talked about you to these two. Had compared them to you, cited that you were better. For years she'd done that. She'd never forgotten about you.

"Look, Gretchen, I'm sorry Regina's treated you badly." You'd lost the need to defend her, even still. Then again, even if you hadn't, there was little you could argue about with the two she'd tormented the most. "You can probably tell this is something Regina doesn't want coming out."

"What does that matter?" Gretchen asked, eyes far away and legs beginning to pace. "We could- could finally bring her down. Yes. We have J, we have everything she wants. She'll come grovelling."

You took a deep breath. You didn't feel angry, you were too tired to get angry at mean girls at this point. Besides, nobody could rile you up like Regina.

"You're wrong." You put it plainly. "What Regina's been doing to these people, to everyone around her, is wrong. But what I find despicable is how everybody is the same. I know her reasons, I can sympathise with her, but I can't say the same for you. So tell me." You paused to take a deep breath. "Why?"

"I'm not good at riddles, I'm sorry." Karen said, looking genuinely apologetic.

"It's okay, Karen, Gretchen can answer for you both."

"She deserves it." Gretchen said, steel in her tone.

"You sound just like Cady Heron and Janis 'Imi'ike. She hurt them too. What do you think ruining her life will achieve?"

"I'll be the new Regina George."

"Do you hear yourself? You still idolize her. If you're gonna be the new Regina George, it's always going to be a Regina George world. Don't you want to be Gretchen Wieners?"

"No!" She screeched. "Gretchen Wieners is lame, boring, too eager, a slut, desperate-" She took a deep breath.

"Okay." You said. "Why? Because Regina said so? Why would you believe her? She's just the same as you. Look," You pulled the album back out.

"Here we're in the Georges' pool. She would not go to the deep end. Y'know, she refused to even go in without those arm floaties for the longest time. Eventually, some boy made fun of her for them and that was the last time.

"And in this one we're driving back from summer camp. Regina was already tall enough to go without a booster seat, but I wasn't. She'd just thrown the biggest tantrum 'cause Mrs George didn't allow her to take off her seatbelt to sleep. She went out like a light, anyway.

"We're in Six Flags there. We'd just gotten those ice creams and you can see that Regina's isn't sticking to the cone all that well. Right after the shot, it just slid off. Regina was inconsolable. I offered her mine so we could share, and that seemed to be good enough for her but her dad was not having it. He threatened to take us home if she didn't stop crying right then, that it'd be all her fault that their whole family wasted money and time on this stupid trip. Eventually she calmed down and Mr George didn't have to drive us back."

You sighed. "I already tried this with Janis, in a way. I don't think Regina would appreciate me airing out her personal life like this, but... I don't know..." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I just want people to stop making things worse for her. She's been so wrong for so long, and I know I can't keep defending her, but I just don't think revenge will make her regret anything that she's done."

Karen hummed. "My auntie's been teaching me about karma. So, like, if she feels what she's made others feel, then won't that like... Fix her?"

"I don't want to hurt her." You said, resolute. "Maybe, it could be the most effective way to make her see her shortcomings. But I don't want to. I do not want to hurt her." You looked between the two. "And that's where we differ, I guess."

Gretchen didn't say anything, eyes glued to a picture from the Six Flags trip. Regina had mustard and ketchup smeared all over her face while she was holding a napkin to your lips, in the process of wiping your face.

With that, you snatched the album from her hands, deposited it back into the locker and slammed it shut. The lock clicked. Without a word, you began to talk towards the exit. Neither of them followed you or said anything to you.

You couldn't stop people from taking their revenge. You had done your best to be diplomatic. Evoking sympathy in hormonal teenagers wasn't something easily done, or maybe you were just shitty at it, but there was little else you could do. If you went ahead and retaliated, hurt them for hurting someone you cared about, the lines blurred.

You'd just be another mean girl.

Notes: Sorry for the delay! The next chapter will be the last one, unless I start rambling or something. After that, I'll do a less structured series of epilogues. Loosely related oneshots, that kinda vibe.

Also, my writing assistant stopped working in the middle of this, so if there's stupid typos I'll come fix them later.

I swear to fucking god if the taglist doesn't work I'll start breaking bones.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(this actually makes me angry. why. why doesnt it work. i type in the @ and then i type in the name and then it shows up in the lil' box and i click it but then it don't show up ;-;)

(this is cyber bullying. the cybers are bullying me.)

(anyway, if you want to be added to the taglist there is no gurantee if it'll work, but i'll add you if you want! just comment on this post :) if anybody has any ideas why it's like this, lmk!)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw #fic: yard work

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 2- "You're in my head..."

The beginning two weeks on tour were spent in the city of London, which I easily grewattached to. For the first handful of days, I fell into a comfortable routine of simplicity- I’d wake with Sam, have breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the band (avoid Oliver); set my sights on a few attractions; spend time in Hyde Park, catching up on my reading list; then return to the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner with Sam and the band. Most often, Oliver wasn’t there for those evening meals, said to be off somewhere, writing music, or having a smoke (thank God). I didn’t see him much outside of those breakfasts considering I was always off doing something and he had rehearsals. And I honestly liked it that way.

During the first two weeks in London, I tried to be nice to Oliver. I’d greet him every day at breakfast with a kind smile, a gentle, “Good morning, Oliver.” And he’d just ignore me. None of the others really considered it, or else I think they’d have said something to him. It was subtle enough that I could only ruminate over it in silence.

But, boy, did I notice the shitty behavior he exhibited towards me, that when I’d laugh too loudly at Max’s jokes or start up a conversation- breathe, basically- Oliver’s shoulders would tense. He’d sigh, just soft enough that I could hear it across the table. And, he’d become distant from the group, eyes glazed over, silent. If someone- other than me- said something to him, he’d respond. But, God forbid he say anything on his own accord.

From what I gathered, he had gotten to know me and, I guess, he just didn’t like me. Why he had covered up the time we had spent together on the roof, I did not know. Why he felt the need to completely ignore me- I really just didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I wanted to. I was having the time of my life, catching matinees on the West End, spending time in the Natural History Museum, riding the London Eye. I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse or sparring enemies during this time in my life.

Usually, at least, back home, I was always too nervous to go out by myself, afraid I’d see family friends or exes I was trying to avoid. Here, I didn’t have to worry about that. I was a whole new person- a whole new woman. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely sometimes, shopping or discovering new coffee shops all by myself. But, it was healing, too. I was learning to enjoy my own company.

At the beginning of the second week, however, I had run out of things to do. Due to my newfound luck, rehearsals had ended for the band Saturday, and they had the week off- save for Friday, when they’d perform, and the weekend, when we’d be heading up to Newcastle for the next show. But for now, Sam had an open schedule.

We toured the city together for a few days, spending more time together in those short hours than we had in nearly five years. We had a pretty close relationship, but due to our conflicting schedules and busy lives, it was rare that we found space to be with each other like this. It was cathartic- catching late lunches together, touring museums, art galleries, tourist attractions. Mom would’ve really loved to be there with us, in such a dream city, and I know we both held that thought close to our hearts for the entire week.

I didn’t attend their concert that weekend, involved with my own plans. I wanted to come see them perform at some point, but I almost wanted to spite Oliver by not going, too. It was, after all, his band, his music. So, instead, I planned on going to a local dive bar that was holding an open mic night. In such a vast, diverse city, I was sure to find fun there.

That morning, though, at breakfast, I almost changed my plans.

I sat down beside Sam, a plate of toast and eggs in my hands. Max looked up from his phone, where he had been texting someone, and grinned at me, “Morning, lovely. Sleep okay?’’

I nodded appreciatively, “I’ve gotten used to the time change already.”

“Just wait,” Sam stabbed at his stack of pancakes. “Italy is in a week. It’ll fuck you up again.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. I’ve gotten to do so much these past two weeks. It’s insane.”

Cy took a sip of his coffee before adding in, “Oh, to see London through the eyes of a tourist. I’m sure it’s nothing short of magical.”

“Gonna have a hard time leaving, that’s for sure,” I bit off a piece of toast as I replied.

Oliver and Adam joined us now, Adam rattling off some guitar notes to the singer. Their conversation was just background noise to ours, as Sam then spoke to me, brushing his hands free of crumbs from his toast, “Listen, I have your stage pass in my bag. You have to wear it to get into the venue or go backstage, okay? Don’t lose it. I won’t be able to check my phone much today, so I can’t help you out if you do.”

I looked up from my plate, a guilty frown settling into my face, “Oh. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna go tonight.”

Everyone turned their attention to me fully, even Oliver, though he seemed to look past my head, avoiding my eyes. Their expressions weren’t necessarily confused, but wondorous, curiously surprised by my declaration.

“You’re not coming?” Max asked, his tone a bit hurt.

I shrugged slowly, “I’m so sorry. I had plans to go out. But, I can- I can always change them-?”

“No, don’t do that,” Cyrus waved me off, defending my choice, “you’re allowed to do your own thing. You’re not obligated to come see us.”

“I mean, I will…eventually. I just…there’s so much I wanna do, ya know?” I stuttered a bit, my face flushed from my guilt. I knew they weren’t mad, but I felt like I was letting them down.

Max pouted as he crossed his arms, “So, we’re just not as important, love? I see how it is. Here I thought we had something special.”

“I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll come to a show sometime. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedu-” I chuckled slightly through my words to make the point that I was being sarcastic. But, then, someone interrupted me.

Everyone glanced at Oliver as he stood, chair scraping against the ground. He was pulling a cigarette from an emptying pack, balancing it between his lips. Then, he walked, so quickly, yet so casually, away from our table, towards the exit.

“Even Ollie’s hurt,” Max pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Funny thing is, I don’t think Max was too far off with his observation. Why else had Oliver stormed off like a child, leaving a full plate of food where he had been sitting?

-

Our first travel day was hectic. We had to wake up, bright and early Saturday morning, in order to board the tour buses waiting outside of the hotel. I was a little nervous to spend the next two days inside of the vehicle, eating, sleeping, and basically living within its confines.

But then it came easy. I slept in late, finding my bunk to be a lot more comfortable than it looked. Cy had joined our bus for that first morning, he and Sam working on some drum rhythm for a new song, or something of the sort. On our bus, too, was Ronnie, Sam’s close friend- he insisted- the band’s tour manager, whom I was growing to love.

She was all tattoos, colored hair, and bad-ass energy. She swore like a sailor, said whatever came to mind, and treated the boys like stupid little teenagers. I loved it. I found myself giggling at everything she said, especially when the boys would be too loud at a gas station, and she’d scold them. Whenever Oliver would grace us with his presence on these outings, he’d glare at my laughter, as per usual.

Anyways, I think I was a difficult pill for Ronnie to swallow at first, being so feminine in comparison to her more masculine demeanor. But, we began to really bond that first afternoon on the bus.

While Cy and Sam occupied the back room, drum pads rattling beneath their sticks, Ronnie and I took up the couches towards the front of the bus. I had just gone out for a cup of tea, hoping it would wake me up and encourage me to read or something. Instead, I ended up playing countless rounds of Mario Kart with Ronnie. I was never really into video games, but playing with her was so fun, and we just couldn’t stop. She teased me for being such an amateur, for choosing Princess Peach when she played as Bowser.

But, then we got to talking- about my favorite Taylor Swift songs, ex-boyfriends, childhood trauma. She was wise beyond her years and a comforting, womanly presence to have.

“Sam told me a little bit, but I never got the full picture. What are you going to school for?”

I glanced over at her, nearly crashing my kart because of the sharp corner I had to cut. “Oh, yeah, um…counseling. To get my LPC, so I can practice.”

“A woman in STEM,” she nodded slowly, a slight smile on her face. Her eyes were focused on the tv screen, but they held a glint of humor. “Hey, I respect it. That’s a difficult job. You like it so far?”

“I liked undergrad,” I shrugged. “I’m kind of scared about my master’s, though.”

She elbowed me softly, in an attempt to offer up some semblance of encouragement, “Don’t be. You’re not dumb. You’ll figure it out.” She was the type of person to not really compliment others, so it was sweet that she was trying for me, someone she barely even knew.

“Thank you,” I grinned over at her as our match ended.

She met my eye, fought back the wide smile itching at her face, and rolled her eyes, “Cmon, peaches. I wanna kick your ass on rainbow road.”

We continued on bantering, chatting about whatever came to mind. I knew then that she’d be a rock to turn to this summer, this suspicion exemplified by the fact that she even said she’d listen to one of the songs I mentioned, though she was a metal-lover, through and through. I was becoming like an exception to everyone, a bright, soft spot of sunshine in the black-clothed masses of this touring crew. It was heartwarming to be so beloved, even if no one would say those words directly (besides Max, of course).

So, what if Oliver didn’t like me? All of his fucking friends did.

-

So, things were coming up Daisy. I was making friends- most notably, Max, Cyrus, and Ronnie. Sam was right- Cy was incredibly smart. We spent a lot of time on the bus that weekend- and the next, when we traveled further up England- discussing school, psychological theories, cognitive studies. He knew a lot about a lot and it was stimulating to get to have such intelligent conversations.

Max was a handful, of course. Again, Sam being right- Max loved to flirt with me. I think it got on my brother’s nerves, but I found it to be a fun little game. At breakfast, back in London, he’d greet me every morning with a pleasant grin, a compliment on my hairstyle for the day or my lip stick color.

Of course, it would be followed by, “Would look better on me.” To which, I would laugh hysterically and Sam would try to fling eggs at his boss.

When this particular flirtation had been spent, I glanced around the group, giggling, when my eyes landed on Oliver. He was actually looking up, and at one point, he met my eyes. My bright grin did not falter, not until his lingering stare turned into a roll in his eyes. He looked back down at his phone and I decided then and there that I would not spend another minute ruminating on him and his negative energy.

Adam and I got along, but we weren’t super compatible, which I didn’t mind. Not everyone always matched with one another. We shared pleasant greetings and didn’t mind sitting next to each other at breakfast. He seemed to just keep to himself most of the time, anyways. Not that he didn’t spend time with the group. He just- was quiet, reserved.

We’d finished up the tour dates scheduled in England during those first three weeks. It had felt like a year long journey but, in reality, they’d only performed about six concerts in that time. We still had two and a half months to go. I was elated. Time on the bus was relaxing, passing by quicker than I thought it would. Though Cy’s bunk was on the other bus, he spent most of his time with us, with Sam. Max would even bus hop, opting for group movie nights with us or games of poker. We sometimes roped Adam into it, but Oliver never budged. His band mates would call him lame, tease him for being such a n introvert, but gave up once he’d roll his eyes at them.

I wondered how they put up with his shitty attitude all the time. It must be frustrating, this annoyance only made worse by the fact that he was so fucking talented. I refused to listen to their music anymore than what Sam had already shown because I just didn’t want to give Oliver the satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare. I had to remind myself that a lot.

The next two stops were in Italy, where we’d be for just a week and a half. The evening before we boarded the plane that would take us there, however, we all decided to get out for a big dinner. It was the first time I’d really be hanging with the entire group, outside of our bus and hotel breakfasts. I wanted to look good, knowing they were used to seeing me in sweats, hoodies, jeans, so I spent a bit of time getting myself ready.

Sam barely dressed up, opting for jeans and a nicer jumper, black Vans a staple to all his outfits. I picked out one of the nicer dresses I’d packed, blush pink, with a square neckline, sheer long sleeves, and a length that cut off above my mid-thigh. I wore my black platform boots, gold jewelry, and did my hair up in this silk bow I had purchased back in London. This was the first time on this trip that I felt really good about how I looked. Oliver’s burning hatred for me only made me more insecure than I already was. Not tonight.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting me, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I opened the bathroom door, my boots noisy on the carpeted floor. A sweet smile came across his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stood to take me in. His head tilted to the side.

“What?” I rubbed my hands down the front of my dress, feeling overanalyzed by his gaze.

“I don’t tell you enough Daz, but you’re beautiful,” Sam nodded, just once. Usually, I’d make fun of him for being so cheesy, so affectionate. But, this summer was bonding us more.

Instead, I grinned at my brother, but still reached out to playfully punch his arm. “Thanks, Sam-Ham.”

“Hey, you’ve done pretty well at not using that so far. Think the guys forgot about that one time.” We headed for the door now, back on our bantering like usual.

I shrugged at his comment, countering with, “Maybe I should remind them of it, then.”

Sam held the door open for me, but, as I said those words, he tried to shove it close on my moving body. I yelped at the impact and then dug my heels into the carpet as I pushed back against his weight. He laughed, heartily, before giving up on shutting me in. Because I was pushing so hard, I toppled out into the hallway, breathless, nearly falling on my face. Sam caught my shoulders and pushed me back on my feet.

As I looked up, I saw Oliver, standing outside of his own room, a quiet smile on his face. He had been observing our antics, passively, with an amused glint in his eye. I grinned back at him, my stupid heart feeling hopeful for some semblance of a spark to catch between us. As if he realized it was my eyes he was looking into, he turned his head.

But, then, just as quickly as he peeled his gaze away, he put it back on me. On my boots, fiery brown eyes dragging themselves up my body. They lingered over the curve of my hips, the peaks of my breasts, my glossy lips and, then, my eyes. He seemed to smirk at me, flashed his eyes, then turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

Sam hadn’t noticed the longing gaze Oliver burned into me because Ronnie was approaching us from down the hall. She didn’t really go to breakfast or dinner with us because she was always on the move. But, luckily, she was able to make it out tonight. And, whenever Ronnie was around, Sam was more than distracted.

I was too focused on Oliver, myself, staring at his retreating back with a slack jaw. Goosebumps littered the skin exposed on my chest, my legs, a chemical reaction eliciting itself from his burning eyes. What the fuck was that? I knew, deep in my soul, that I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was literally just a stupid man, and I was dressed in little to no clothing. As long as a vagina had legs, men would fuck the most insufferable of women. That was just it- right?

I didn’t have time to focus on my own racing thoughts, however, because Ronnie was talking to me now, teasing me about my dress, which I knew, for her, was just a hidden compliment.

“Jesus, it’s like Princess Peach in real life,” she chuckled, eyeing me up.

I turned to the two of them, licking my lips as if to snap myself out of my lucid trance. “Huh? Oh…uh- insert funny Princess Peach line,” I shook my hands around, forcing a smile upon my face, as I tried to banter back.

“Something like, ‘save me, Mario!”’ Sam mocked the character in a high-pitched voice.

This finally distracted my brain enough. Ronnie and I shared a humorously surprised expression, eyed Sam, before bursting out into laughter.

“That was fucking terrible!” Ronnie exclaimed, smacking Sam in the bicep. “I loved it.”

We made our way to the elevator, still teasing Sam for his terrible impression. He tried to save himself by acting like Mario, but that was just another train wreck, in and of itself.

“I’m-a sorry! Please-a forgive me-a!” He lifted his arms in a strange manner as he made another horrid impression. Ronnie held a finger up to her lips, “No, no. Shhhhhh…no, just…no.” I giggled into my hand.

We were supposed to meet the others down in the lobby, where we would take a pair of taxis down the street to some five-star restaurant the boys had recommended. I was lucky to have saved up so much at my job back home, to be able to do stuff like this all summer. I don’t think I’d ever been to such a fancy place before. I was more than excited.

When we stepped off the elevator, we spotted our group by the front doors. Max was in a sweater, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to Adam, who was also dressed nicer than normal. He looked over the guitarist's shoulder as the elevator dinged and spotted me immediately. Max gawked at the sight. He interrupted his band mate’s conversation in order to whistle. I flushed red, eyes rolling, though I secretly appreciated all the attention I was garnering with this little outfit.

“Oh, my god,” Ronnie murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead as though he was stressing her out. She and Sam moved off, out of the way, as Max approached.

He brushed past Adam, looking me up and down. He reached out for my hands, taking my fingers in his large hold. He lifted my arms up, as if to get a better examination of me. “Love, you look fucking gorgeous!”

I shook my head, grinning at the compliments, and it ruffled my hair over my shoulders. It drew Max’s attention to my intricate hairstyle. He moved his hand to touch my neck, softly, and turned my head to admire the hairstyle.

“Wow, love, just; wow!” Max appreciated me some more, settling a blush across my cheeks.

Then, he pulled me to stand beside him, looping my hand through his arm, laying it around his bicep. “Come on, love; you’re my date for this evening. Yeah?”

“Sure,” I patted his bicep. “Whatever you say.”

Max groaned, head tilted back, eyes shut. “Don’t say that! That’s dangerous-“

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Sam called from his spot beside Ronnie, a finger pointed warningly at Max. I hung my head, giggles falling from my mouth. Ronnie looked amused at the confrontation.

Max raised his own hand in defense, “Okay, okay. I’ll even admit that one was a little…out there.” Sam nodded firmly with a disapproving smile. Max tilted his head down towards me, his expression more polite now, words close to my ear. “Sorry, love.”

I leaned into his arm, winking slightly, “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Oh! That’s my girl,” Max tapped my nose sweetly.

I was on top of the world. I looked good- even Oliver thought so- I felt good. I was in the most beautiful country, surrounded by people I was forming tightly-knit relationships with. Nothing could ruin my elated mood.

I didn’t even care that Ronnie, Sam, and Adam had piled into the one taxi, leaving Max, Oliver, Cy, and I to share the other. I didn’t care that I’d have to share such a small space with the most insufferable man in the world.

Cy chose to sit up front, cutting off Oliver, who had most definitely been headed in that direction. Cy didn’t notice, though. His action was sacrificial for everyone else, not intentionally manipulative towards his band mate. Oliver, however, seemed to take it to heart, frowning deeply at the rejection and fisting his hand into his hoodie pocket.

I watched all this occur as Max opened the door to the taxi, helping me inside the back seat. “You okay in the middle?” He asked, head dipped inside the vehicle.

I nodded, “No worries.” I only realized after I saw Oliver round the car that this meant I’d be sitting flush against him.

I didn’t care. Though my face flushed with anticipatory anxiety, I didn’t care. I didn’t care- was that his cologne in the air- nope. Don’t care.

Max piled in, softly shutting the door behind him, leg and shoulder pressed up against my own. I buckled myself in just as Oliver opened the door. I tried to offer a sweet smile, still choosing kindness over returning his awful behavior. He didn’t mirror any gesture in return. My smile faltered.

No. I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me. Tonight was going to be fun, whether he wanted it to be or not. If he chose to sulk in my presence, then that was his problem. I shook my shoulders about, basically shaking him off of me. Though, it would be my problem during the car ride. He slid into the seat next to me and I swear I could feel his negative energy fill up the car. Besides, he was tall, legs and arms long, shoulders wide. I know he was trying to shove himself up against the door, but he couldn’t just not touch me. His thigh was warm against mine, his shoulder tense. I leaned into Max to try to give him more space, but that was unfair to him.

The bassist shifted in return, looking down at me, apologetic for thinking he had taken up too much space, “Sorry, love.”

“S’okay,” I looked away from Oliver, focusing my attention on the road before us as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to sink into myself. But, I was still flush against either man.

I could smell Oliver’s cologne, too. It was sweet, musky. It overwhelmed my senses. Though I tried to process Max and Cy’s blossoming conversation, appeal myself to them and only them, all I could think about was Oliver. How he smelled. The curve of his thigh.

Oliver’s large hand on his knee, slender fingers curved over top of the limb. Oliver’s chest, in the corner of my eye, moving up and down slowly, in a controlled rhythm of breathing. Oliver’s scent, so strong to my senses, so…distracting. He smelled so damn good.

I shifted in my seat again. My thigh pressed up against his more. I squeezed my legs together to avoid his, but there wasn’t enough room. I glanced at him, an apologetic smile on my lips.

He looked down at me, lips pursed slightly. I held his eyes for a moment, trying to read his expression. Just as I went to turn my head away, his eyes dipped down, over the peaks of my breast again.

Okay, he was not helping the situation. The way he looked more over was just making him seem more attractive to my stupid brain.

I flushed, skin spotting with color from the red blush. I took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as I tried to control the heat in my body. I saw from the corner of my eye that Oliver was still staring at me. He shifted this time, tugging his hoodie down his belt. I furrowed my brows at the movement, flicking my eyes over his lap, where the hem of his jacket had now settled. Oliver coughed, large hand holding the edge of his hoodie down over where he had moved it to. I did a double-take, realizing after a moment what that meant.

He had a boner.

He had a boner because of me.

Oliver had a boner because of me.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t think straight. I clutched the edge of my dress, knuckles white from the pressure in them. My chest only fell faster, breathing short, goosebumps littering my flushed skin again. I could feel Oliver look over at me, over and over. He just couldn’t look away. He shifted countless more times, thigh pushing against mine. It sprouted a wildfire across my skin.

I didn’t want to play games, but he was making it impossible to be the neutral position in this narrative. One day, he hated me, rolling his eyes at my laughter. Then, the next, he’s checking me out, battling a boner in the seat beside me? So, maybe I should just choose a side. Maybe I should play back.

I spread my legs, only a centimeter due to the lack of space I had, pressing my thigh into his more. It was noticeable to him, and him only.

He felt the pressure, eyes dragging down my body to my leg. The hand he still had curved over his leg squeezed his knee cap, knuckles flushing white, like my own. I smirked to myself, though I knew he could see the expression on my face. He let out a breathless huff, as if he was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I continued pushing my leg into his, though he slowly began to cower into the corner of the car, knee turning towards the door. I felt victorious, confident in the way I had made his body react.

Though my hands still shook from the heat of the moment. The game paused during dinner. Oliver went back to ignoring me, eyes trained on the menu or his lap. I knew it was partially because he didn’t want to have a boner in front of our friends. Though, he conversed a bit more tonight, to Ronnie about tour dates, to his band mates about the setlist, to Sam about some stupid bit they were all involved in. I knew it was just because of the camaraderie between everyone.

Everyone had a really good time, myself included, though I was sweating. We were all laughing, sharing stories over numerous glasses of wine. Of course, my hand was a little heavier than the other’s when I’d poured myself some of the maroon colored liquid. I needed to drink in order to get through this painful plane of existence. This was not how I thought the night would go, but there was no going back now. I needed to make him uncomfortable, needed him to see me. He couldn’t ignore me any longer. Not now, not when I knew that I had him in such a taunting way. When dessert was brought out- slices of chocolate cake- I stepped back into the game. I was a little more brave now, encouraged by the wine. I was tipsy, sure, but I also knew exactly what I was doing.

Oliver was seated right across from me, accidental on either of our ends. But, lucky, nonetheless. I pushed my feet out underneath the table, taking up more space than I needed to. Eventually, the toes of my boots hit the tips of his black converse.

He had been eating his cake, eyes trained on the white cloth of the table. But, when I knocked our shoes together, his eyes flinched up, towards me. His brows furrowed. He dipped his head down and lifted the cloth up slightly to look at our shoes under the table. Oliver met my eyes again. He rolled his eyes and went back to his cake. I smirked to myself. He thought I was just being stupid, stretching my legs out. No- I was a smart girl. I knew what I was doing. This was all intentional. I hated him, but he thought I was hot. So, I could finally get back at him for all of his shitty behavior. Could use my good looks to my advantage.

I put my boot atop one of his converse. His foot wriggled beneath mine, in an attempt to knock it off. But, I pressed down, keeping it there. Oliver looked back up, annoyance evident in his face.

I took the opportunity to have a bit of my cake, slipping the fork between my lips slowly, tongue flicking out to swipe the bottom of it seductively. Oliver’s eyes widened as I drug the utensil from my lips. I twisted it around in my mouth, cleaning off every inch, lips pursed. He sat up in his seat.

I had his full attention now.

I scooped more cake onto my fork, though I didn’t bite into it this time. Instead, I licked the fork, dragging it down my tongue. Oliver’s eyes watched my mouth, his own tongue flicking out over his lips.

I swallowed, noticeably so. He shifted in his seat, hands in his laps now. I set my fork down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. I let myself grin at him, having successfully made his dick hard again. He was a stupid, easy boy. It didn’t matter who I was- so long as I was wearing skimpy clothes and being sexy- he was weak. Sure, he probably still couldn’t stand me- but his dick was hard.

Oliver’s jaw clenched. He tilted his chin up towards me, as if to say, “Okay. I see how it is.”

I flicked my brows at him, reaching out for my wine glass, and maintaining eye contact as I took a long swig. “Should we go out for drinks?” Max asked from his end of the table.

I glanced down at him, my wine glass empty now. Sam wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, searching everyone’s expressions. “Could be fun,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I could go for some beer,” Adam shrugged from his seat.

Ronnie nodded, too, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Cyrus raised a hand to motion to the waitress that we needed our checks. I reached around to the back of my chair as she approached, ready to grab my wallet. Though we had already laid out how the checks would be split, she never gave me mine.

I furrowed my brows as she passed over me, handing out bills to everyone else. But, then I saw Sam laying his card down on his bill and nodded to myself. When we left the restaurant, and began walking down the street to the closest bar, I caught up to him and Ronnie. I looped my arm through his, gaining his attention, “Thanks, Sam Ham.”

He looked confused by my gratitude, but didn’t have time to focus on that because he was too busy being offended by my choice of nickname. He moved to fuck with me, to tickle my waist or something, but I quickly ran from him. Max and Adam were walking a few feet ahead of us. Laughing loudly, I headed to them, running in front of Max. The wine I had drank was making me loud, silly. I appreciated the ability to relax, unwind. Be myself without any filters holding me back.

Max nearly tripped over me, but when he heard Sam calling out, trying to get to me, he quickly grabbed me by the waist. “Leave my girl alone, you monster!” Max shouted, tossing me over his shoulder and racing further down the street.

I clutched onto his arms, yelping at the hectic movement. We reached the bar before everyone else, Sam having given up on chasing us after he nearly tripped on the curb. I watched them all approach where we stood from over Max’s shoulder, breathless.

I patted his back and said, “Okay, thanks, but you can let me down now.”

“Mhm,” Max turned towards the group. “Appreciating the view, love.”

“Max,” Ronnie was even getting protective over me. She moved in front of us, an annoyed look on her face, “You’re disgusting.”

Max huffed, and replied, “Okay, okay, here,” before settling me back on my feet. He grinned down at me, booped my nose again before heading into the bar with Adam, Ronnie, and Sam.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cy and Oliver, having been trailing behind our group. Cy smiled kindly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. I noticed Oliver was looking up at the sky. I trailed my eyes down over his body, towards his crotch curiously. His black skinny jeans looked just a liiiiittle bit tight, again.

I smirked to myself. “Cmon, Cy,” I pushed Oliver gently out of the way in order to grab onto his friend’s arm. We walked into the bar, leaving Oliver in the dust. I made sure to swing my hips just so for his gaze, which I was positive was glued to my ass.

The game was back on. And he would lose.

-

Max handed me yet another drink, a sweet, drunken smile on his face. “Here you are, lovey.”

“Thank you, friend!” I wriggled around on the bar stool happily. I lazily wrapped my lips around the thin black straw in the glass I now held tightly in my hand. The bitter taste of alcohol, diluted by the cherry grenadine and orange slice clipped onto the rim of the glass, flooded my tongue. I shut my eyes as I enjoyed the taste, drunk enough that it didn’t actually matter how gross vodka was.

I set the glass back down upon the bar, then twisted my stool around to observe the small dance floor. It was some local dive bar we’d settled on, a place Max had been to loads of times before. It was getting crowded, especially as the night wound down. Every seat at the counter was full, the tables were occupied, and everyone on said dance floor was pushing up against each other. The couples dancing there were sights for sore eyes, all sloppy hips and wandering hands.

I moved my head side to side, with the rhythm of the song playing, lips pursed. I knew some of the words, mostly just the chorus, so I sang along when I could. I glanced over to the pool tables when I heard Sam and Ronnie cheer loudly. They were playing against Adam and Cy, who seemed to be losing quite badly. I giggled to myself as Sam chest-bumped with Ronnie.

Max, who had been talking to Oliver, who was sitting- sulking- beside us, turned his attention back to me. I was still his ‘date’ for the evening, so he had refused to let me buy my own drinks. This was incredibly dangerous. Not including the two glasses of wine I’d had back at the restaurant, I was already on my fourth drink. The liquor was making my stomach warm, my limbs loose. As for Oliver…I had been too busy enjoying myself in the bar to play with him. I was feeling like just giving up, satisfied with what I’d accomplished, growing bored of him as the alcohol filled up my attention. Besides, the man seemed uninterested in anything anymore.

“I still owe you a dance, don’t I, lovely?” Max’s voice was low in my ear, his cheek brushing against my hair.

I grinned up at him, “I think you owe me at least two.”

Max dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink before offering me his hand. As he did, Whitney Houston began playing. My mouth opened wide in excitement. I hopped off the bar and drugged him behind me, jumping to the rhythm with each step I took towards the floor. I sang to Max, holding onto his hand, pointing with every lyric, popping my hips. He swayed, but mostly let me have my moment. He pulled me every so often and my hair would whip past my shoulders.

“Spinning through the town- ah!” I squealed as Max spun me towards his chest. I clutched onto his shoulders as he dipped me, hands low on my back. As I hung there in the air, I burst out laughing, my head falling further backwards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of Oliver, now turned in his stool to face the dance floor. He wasn’t smiling, no, he was basically incapable of doing so. But, there was a small curl in his lips, a glint in his dark eyes each time the flashing lights burned his pupils. Nevermind. I was back in. I was so back in the game that it was probably unhealthy, and I’d probably regret it. The song ended, and, to my luck, S&M by Rihanna began playing. I grinned at Max as my back straightened up, my chest pressed against his.

He tilted his head at me with a playful smile, “I have a feeling Sam won’t like this.”

I wrapped my arms around Max’s neck, pushing myself flush against him. I stood on my tiptoes, glossy lips barely ghosting his earlobe as I whispered, “I don’t care.”

As I pulled away, I watched Max throw his head back and roll his eyes. “You’re killing me, love!”

“Good!”

The chorus began thumping through the speakers. I pushed Max’s leg through my own, feeling his boney hips against mine. I rolled my waist to his, tossing my hair back, leaning into his hands. He pushed his touch lower, over the curve of my tailbone, dangerously close to my ass. We danced through the song, pushing into each other, hips rolling. As it reached the bridge, Max pushed me away, still holding my hand, encouraging me to dance on my own for a moment. I did, jumping around, screaming the lyrics, hair whipping over my face. Max then spun me back into his chest.

When I thumped against his body, I knew I was going to puke. Vile pushed up my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I stumbled, ripping my hand from Max. He was speaking to me, asking if I was okay, or something of the sort, but I couldn’t hear him.

I needed to get away- get to the bathroom, get fresh air, something. I didn’t know where the ladies room was, so I b-lined for the front door, tripping through the crowd, until my fingers touched the push bar handle. My knees scraped against the pavement as I fell into the curb, retching the contents of the dinner I’d had into the bushes outside the bar. I tried to brush my hair from my face, but it was sticking to my face in bunches, sweat acting as a bondant.

Out of nowhere, I felt someone else’s warm hands on my neck, fingering my hair back into their fist, peeling strands from my cheeks and lips. I braced my hands against the dirt of the curb and some of it lodged up under my fingernails. My knees were burning, probably all cut up from my crash landing.

After a few minutes of relentless gagging, my stomach was finally empty. I pushed myself back onto my ass, tears dripping down my cheeks, black mascara smudging all the way down to my neck. My back pressed up against the stranger’s chest. I felt my shoulders shaking from the exertion my body had just gone through.

“It’s okay,” they were shushing me throughout it all, their voice now processing in my ears. They wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me to their chest as they swayed us slightly. Their other hand continued brushing my hair from my face soothingly, coaxing me down from the high of the moment. “It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

“I wanna go home,” I sobbed slightly, words slobbered from my salivating lips.

“I know, I know, s’okay,” they continued soothing me. “Think you can stand?”

I glanced down, looking over the hand that was helping me. Silver rings adorned the person’s long, slender fingers, and their pale wrist led into an arm that disappeared under a black sweatshirt. As my brain processed their voice, their sweet smell of cologne that was encasing me, my eyes widened.

“Ol-” my voice cracked, “Oliver?”

He peered over my shoulder as I looked back at him, managing to meet his eyes. “Yeah? You okay? Think you can stand, darling?”

I wanted to be angry, to jump up and yell at him for being so fucking weird, for acting like my existence was a burden, but falling to his knees whenever I was in danger. But, I couldn’t right now. I just wanted to go home. Back to the hotel, curl up in bed.

“N-no,” I admitted guiltily, brows furrowed. “I…don’t feel good.”

“S’okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. Here,” Oliver braced my back with a hand as he stood, ensuring I wouldn’t fall over onto the sidewalk. When he settled onto his feet, he pulled his phone from his pocket, shot a quick text to someone. Then, he crouched down, scooped me up, easily, into his arms. I lazily wrapped my hands around his neck.

The crevice of his shoulder was warm, so I nuzzled my head there. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping rapidly through his hoodie. I focused on the sound as he began walking. My eyes, unwillingly, fluttered shut. I didn’t know where we were going or, honestly, what the fuck was happening. But, I couldn’t care. I just needed my world to stop spinning. Besides, being so close to him felt…good. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. But, he was…he felt good.

Eventually, I guess, we made it back to the hotel. I came to from my sleepy trance when I heard the elevator ding. I took in a sharp gasp of breath, lifting my head from Oliver’s chest.

“Doing okay, Daisy?” He looked down at me. I felt us shift as the elevator lifted up on its track. I shook my head, only having enough energy to do so once, frowning deeply, “Not really.”

“S’okay, darling, we’re almost there,” Oliver assured me. My brows furrowed when I heard the pet name pass through his lips. “What?” I questioned. I suppose he’d used it a few times now, but this was the first I’d noticed it. It was…entrancing.

Oliver glanced back at me, having trained his eyes back on the doors before us, “Said we’ll be there soon, yeah?” “Darling,” I whispered, mostly to myself as I lay my head back into his neck.

I heard him chuckle softly, as though he heard my inquiring tone. The noise rattled against my cupped ear, deep, hollow in his chest. I liked the sound. I wanted to hear it more often. I cooed and felt Oliver’s chest constrict beneath my chin, as though he was taking a deep breath. We were moving again, down the hallway, towards mine and Sam’s room. Oliver stopped outside of it and shifted me in his arms. “Okay, darling, need your help here. I’ve got your purse. Could you get in it, get your key? Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

My mind was so rattled by his free use of the sweet names that I struggled to focus on the task at hand. Jaw slack, I stared up at him, hypnotized. He smiled down at me, still humored by my shock.

“Darling? Please? Your purse.”

‘‘Purse,” I nodded slowly. Then, somehow, I managed to reach for the pink strap slung over his shoulder. I fished my purse into my lap, dug around, trying to find my wallet. As I continued to search for it, I began to grow frustrated. I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep. “Can’t find it.” I began to cry again, sniffling lamely.

He soothed me with soft hushes, “S’okay. Darling, s’okay. You can just..” he huffed as he tried to come up with a solution. He peered down the hallway, towards his room. “You can just stay in my room. Don’t cry, Daisy. S…okay.”

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than me. He backtracked down the hallway, stopping before his door now. “Okay, just one more favor, darling. Can you do that for me? One more?”

“Yes,” I slurred.

Oliver tapped his fingers against the underside of my thigh. It released a net of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you reach into my back pocket, get my wallet? Yeah?”

I shifted in his arms, straining my arm over his shoulder as I reached for the wallet he spoke of. With a few soft groans from me, and the help of Oliver, who lifted me up further so I could reach, I retrieved it. I flipped it open, eyes immediately drawn to his driver’s license in the clear slot.

“You’re cute,” I muttered to myself, rubbing a finger across the picture. “December 22. Your birthday is seven months away.”

“Yes, it is, darling,” he chuckled down at me. “Now, listen-“

“My birthday is next month,” I tilted my head back, pointing my glazed smile up at him.

“Oh, yeah?” I watched as his grin grew upon meeting my eyes.

“The 12th,” I moved my hand from the wallet to his cheek, touching it softly. “You’re cute.”

His face grew hot beneath my touch. “So are you, darling. You wanna get to sleep, yeah?”

The words drew a yawn from my throat. I arched my back into his hold, nodding lazily.

“Would you take the hotel key out and press it against the handle, please? Daisy-“ he demanded my eye contact. I gave it to him, easily. I would do anything he asked, I knew at this moment.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, pushed it open for us. Oliver moved through the threshold, pressing a kiss to my temple shortly. When he spoke, his lips were so close to my ear that I felt his words in my legs. It vibrated through my veins, like the music at the bar had. He said, “Good girl.” I managed not to make a guttural noise.

Oliver carried me to his bed, gently laying my body down over the covers. I immediately curled up into myself, shivering at the cold in the air, eyes squeezed shut. I’d forgotten any conversation I’d started with him in the hallway. I was too focused on getting to sleep.

Oliver sat down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He shook me, softly, “May I take off your shoes?”

I groaned in response, hoping it came out as a positive signal for him. He laughed again, before moving his touch down to my calves. He was so warm.

Oliver lifted my one leg, just slightly, unzipping each boot before sliding them down and off my feet. He leaned over the bet to set them on the floor.

When he straightened up, he leaned in to get a closer look at my knees. “Scraped yourself up pretty good.”

I hissed as his fingers dabbed at a cut. He apologized, softly, before adding, “Let me get a cloth, okay?” His hand was on my cheek now, thumb brushing away some of the mascara that was dried on my face.

I gave him a thumbs up, my hand hitting his shoulder. He took my fingers in his and lay it back against my chest. I held his hand there, snuggling my cheek to it. Oliver sighed at the action, but then took his hand back. I heard him get up. I heard the faucet run. Suddenly, he was back, pressing a warm, damp cloth to my face.

‘‘C’mere, darling,” he sat down again. Oliver’s fingers cradled my cheek as he lifted my head up and lay it in his lap. His fingers were rough from playing the guitar, but it was nice to feel them brush the hair away from my face. He was cleaning the makeup off my face now.

Meanwhile, I was far too drunk and tired to notice the way my body reacted to his touch. Butterflies ate away at my stomach, heat sprouted from every ghost of his fingers. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, eating away at me like acid.

He moved his focus down to my knees, using some alcohol pads to wipe off dried blood on my legs. He bandaged them with whatever he found in the bathroom.

“Would you like to change out of your dress?” Oliver then asked. He was still stroking my cheek now, but the cloth was abandoned. There was no makeup to take off. He was just…touching me, just for the sake of touching me.

“Please,” I peeked open my eyes. His face was so close to mine, it almost made me flinch. But, I was taken back more by the brightness of the lights glaring down on me.

When my squinting eyes met his gaze, he grinned, “Think you can sit up for me, darling?”

I nodded, a smile forced onto my face from his beautiful expression. Oliver braced my back again, large fingers splayed out over my waist, helping me to lean against the headboard. I wanted his hands all over me. I hoped I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t think I did, but who knew at this point.

“Would you like a hoodie? T-shirt? Pants?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, hoping to find something for me.

“Hoodie,” I murmured in response, staring at the blank, black screen of the tv.

Oliver went to stand, but I reached out, fingers grasping at the strings of his jacket. He settled back onto the bed, brows furrowed as he looked down at my touch. He pointed to his chest, “This hoodie?”

“Please,” I stared at the string as I played with it. Oliver chuckled, again, before tugging his arms from the sleeves, peeling the hoodie up and over his head. My eyes glued to his chest as his shirt rode up, revealing his toned stomach, the line that I knew led to his dick. His hair was all ruffled from the movement, too, only making him more attractive to me.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed, darling?” Oliver touched his pointer finger to my slack jaw, drawing my eyes to his.

I met his dark stare, flushing red. I smiled, “Both.”

“One thing at a time. We have all summer,” he shook his head, the volume of his words lowering as he spoke, like it was a secret we were sharing with each other. What the fuck did that mean? That meant something. That meant…everything. What the fuck?

I managed to lean forward so Oliver could unzip my dress, though my mind was somewhere else. It was racing, especially as his fingers brushed down my spine. My back arched into his touch. Heat sprouted like a garden on my skin. I needed…

Oliver pulled his hoodie over my bare body. When my head popped through the opening, we shared a sweet grin. Oliver glanced up at my hair, then ran both his hands over the mess, patting it down. He cradled my head in his hands, his large, warm, hold simply gazing into my eyes.

The pace of my breathing sped up, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. I didn’t care that he was confusing, that he was an asshole 99% of the time. I didn’t care that he probably tasted like cigarette smoke, that I’d puked thirty minutes ago, or that he was my brother’s boss.

I needed his lips on mine. He had been the center of my thoughts these past few weeks. And he was finally right there for the taking.

I pushed forward with so much effort that I tackled Oliver onto the bed. I grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, guiding his lips to mine. He made a noise as his back hit the bed, the air knocked out of him. I straddled his waist, somehow, sloppily kissing him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Oliver touched my waist and kissed me back. Then, he braced his hands against my shoulders, leaned his head back far enough into the bed that he could get away.

“Daisy-“

“Oliver, please!” I tugged at his shirt, whining like a child who had their candy stolen.

Oliver laughed at my puckered lips, squeezed-shut eyes. He sat us up, me in his lap, his hands moving to my waist. The movement forced my eyes open, my lips coming to a frown on my face. I furrowed my brows, puppy-dog eyes staring up at him with a pleading in my pupils.

“Daisy, you’re drunk,” he touched my cheek, trying to ground my gaze to his, hoping the explanation would make sense to my drunken mind.

But, it didn’t, of course. Besides, this was rejection. Rejection from the guy who rolled his eyes everytime I spoke. Rejection from the guy who got hard because of my thigh pressing against his leg in the car. The confusion of the situation was overwhelming me.

And the only thing I could think to say was, “Why don’t you want me?”

Oliver’s gaze softened. He didn’t even have to think of his response. It came so naturally, “I do. I…I do want you.”

His voice was soft, a whisper passed between just our breaths. My grip on his shirt loosened as I relaxed in his lap. I was still frowning, though, still confused, “Then why…why are you so mean to me?”

“It’s complicated, darling,” he searched my face, worry in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just…let’s just get you to bed, okay? We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling? Besides, we have a plane to catch in five hours.” I nodded, though it was slow, unsure. Oliver helped me under the covers, tucking them up to my chin sweetly. He brushed my hair back again, eyes lingering on my fluttering-shut eyes. I mumbled, barely coherent, slurred words, “Please lay with me.”

Oliver shook his head, “I can’t do that, darling.” “Why?” I pouted my lip.

And, though I forgot a lot of details about this night, his response was something I would never, ever let slip from my memory.

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #sleep token x y/n #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel (sleep token) x reader

[katiefrog217]

I adore your Azirabirb and Snek Crowley, they are lovely, you draw them SO well! I would like more fluff, but I truly can’t wait for whatever you’ll post <3

Aww thank you so much! I'm really glad you enjoy them so much, they have been a lot of fun for me to draw!! TT-TT (dare I say, nearly cathartic even)

It hasn't been without its challenges to be sure (don't get me started on how many sketches I went through trying to get [Cradle of the Star Maker] right), but the fact that people have been responding positively has kept me motivated!!

You'll be happy to hear then than fluff is my specialty!! Actually, I do have some fluff I want to post here (hopefully this weekend), so keep an eye out for it! :))

#good omens #aziracrow #azirabirb #snake crowley #ask #i have so many ideas #I genuinely appreciate all of you

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/4/2023

the semi-triumphant return of the making section

listening

my ugly by cloudfodder. i spent a lot of this weekend muttering "six feet down bad for me" bc its a fun phrase. a voice similar to cosmo sheldrake, sleeker and more rollicking baseline but similar vibes to the doors' people are strange.

also: shostakovich's jazz suite no. 2, specifically the famous waltz 2. i'd never listened to the whole suite in one sitting (or at all), and it got me through an extremely tedious afternoon of scheduling calendar reminders for various grants. one reminder a month out, one reminder two weeks out, one reminder the day it's due. for every quarterly and annual report, all of which run on different quarterly and annual schedules. out to 2027.

my ugly is from last week's discover playlist i never got around to listening to but did archive, and i could not tell you what led me to shostakovich.

-

reading

more vampire private detective fiction. i'm sort of amazed this is a little subgenre of its own? like the kate kane books, raylene pendle's adventures are simply fun nonsense. if you liked the underworld movies, or van helsing, or any of that flavor of mid aughts gritty but opulent fantasy, you may like these books.

a side note: it was slightly jarring to read a book with s drag queen where the drag queen is kind of a distraction? he's a whole guy with his own subplots going on, but the books are also like...WOW look at THIS fun novelty!!! we hang out with a drag queen!!! let's have a long internal discussion about what pronouns to use when but not actually ask the drag queen about preferred situational pronouns! i think this is mostly a the times they are a-changin' deal, bc this was published in 2010 and i do not remember running into that with any of priest's other books. it feels mostly well-meaning, if a little back-patting at times.

this is also a very rare reread, i read these fairly close to when they were published bc i was working at my local library devouring like four books a week.

-

watching

i have a few words to say about s2 of s/tar wars' the ba/d batch and then we'll get on to a movie i actually enjoyed watching. if this were not star wars i would have stopped watching a year ago. HOWEVER. episodes 7 & 8 of s2 are just like. two normal clone wars episodes dropped in??? there's some juicy juicy coruscanti politics and a lot about clone rights as the empire decides to make the switch from clones to conscripted troops? we hang out at the clone bar 79's for a bit??? it's just a shockingly competent pair of episodes compared to the rest of them.

the italian job (1969, dir. collison) is a movie i would call stylish (derogatory) bc it really is just a movie about the spectacle of the car chase. i am saddened to report i had a delightful fucking time, bc the part of my brain that likes experiencing g-forces went heheehoohooo zippy corners. i am aware the mini cooper is a competent sports and rally car, but something about multiples of a very small car absolutely hauling ass...this movie is not afraid to get silly with it. i have almost nothing to say about this movie except i had a good time nearly every minute.

im always really annoyed when a movie a man has given me a nonconsensual 2+ hour seminar about is 1) nice to look at and 2) actually fun.

watched the b/ad batch bc i Must watch anything s/tar wars as an elaborate form of self harm, and the italian job was bc i have kanopy credits to burn and wanted to watch a silly action movie while i ate dinner.

-

playing

still fucking around in Weird West. got my husband back, which seems to be the worst outcome? fascinating!!! leaving him in a cage for two months while i leveled up and gained cathartic revenge for our son by systematically wiping out an entire gang until i was strong enough to storm the abandoned mine and kill the leader, freeing my husband, seems to not have given him very much catharsis. funny how that happens. i wonder if his dialogue changes depending on how fast you rescue him.

this game had some folks who worked on dishonored. you motherfuckers. all these screenshots are cropped to hell bc i really want to draw attention to the characters and not the vast expanses they are standing in.

three more things: you play through five different storylines. on the first run through with the revenge-seeking bounty hunter, i bought a horse. a very nice horse! coal black no markings. they gave me a different fucking horse. where is my old horse??? is she okay???

anyway im a pig man now. ran into a mandatory stealth mission which has really stopped me dead, bc this pig man comes with a shotgun and all his abilities are tank abilities. im sure if i actually attempt the mission it is not that difficult. but i wanna use my shotgun. the game got me so hype to tank through some stuff, bc the previous bounty hunter was a very good midrange allrounder type of lady. which is good and fine to introduce you to the game, and i had a lot of fun playing her, but she was not well suited to the shotgun (my beloved).

and sorry the what now

-

making

experiments with bleach and shirts thereof. i got this clearance rack longsleeved tee at target for four of the king's own dollars, sometime between my last big trip to the laundromat and thursday, when i did laundry and remembered this shirt existed. it's not a very good shirt, the cuffs are awful and there's a weird seam up the entire center back. i dont feel bad about destroying it.

did some graffiti from the Lonesome Road f/allout new vegas dlc up both sleeves, and i'm fairly pleased with the effect. it's graffiti, it's supposed to be sloppy. i am inordinately pleased with the inner curve of the "u" in "courier" bc i just freehanded it with a half inch chip brush and some halfhearted tailors chalk marking my letter spacing.

my original jug of bleach from when i moved into the woods apartment in the fall of 2020 had somehow gone off, bc it was not bleaching. luckily i had a second backup bottle of bleach bc in november i forgot i already owned a bottle of bleach. this is one of the rare times adhd has worked out for me.

the process for this was not fancy or complicated. i stenciled all the stars with leftover contact paper: held it up to my laptop screen, lightly traced with a pencil, and then hacked away at it with a box cutter. i probably would have been perfectly fine freehanding it bc bleach and graffiti are very forgiving of shaky hand sins. but a bitch is anxious. a bitch loves stencils.

i had to go back and touch up the smaller stars bc i oversaturated the fabric with the dead bleach and lost all the detail. bleach pens apparently cannot be had for love or money around here. “homemade” bleach pens are apparently just cornstarch and bleach, which seemed not reactive enough and i already had cornstarch. i did not have a little squeeze bottle but i did have a wide assortment of cheap synthetic paintbrushes i don’t care about so i did a 1:1 mix in the bottom of a beaker and freehanded that on. didn't really need the cornstarch and it really hindered the "how long do i leave this on" question, i would have been fine freehanding straight bleach onto bone-dry fabric.

it is doubtful i will wear this out in public, bc the distressed flag imagery in these specific colors really brings a sort of republican biker aesthetic i don't care for. i am fascinated at the possibilities of literally painting a little scene with bleach but it's kind of high stakes and idk there's an #iconic enough scene in lonesome road to do that with. i am thinking about a doing a big sierra madre chip on the front and fucking around with some shading? stay tuned.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[roseapothecary]

All right, one fandom-related, one not.

FMK: Alexis Rose, Nora Holleran, June Claremont-Diaz

AND

What are your top five songs to listen to when you need a really good cathartic cry?

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

FMK: Alexis Rose, Nora Holleran, June Claremont-Diaz

How DARE you make me kill one of my girls!? That's just mean!

Sigh. Fuck Nora, Marry June, Kill Alexis. I can't kill June's best friend and then marry her, and marrying June is the one thing that I don't need to mentally debate here, lmao. Also, Alexis would probably make the afterlife a party. I'm sure that's in a fic somewhere.

What are your top five songs to listen to when you need a really good cathartic cry?

You probably will not be surprised by the fact that almost all of these are songs from musical theatre:

No Voice from Bare (do not come near me)

With You from Ghost: The Musical

She Used to Be Mine from Waitress

Flying Away from Fun Home

And Have You Ever Seen the Rain now never fails to make me cry because of my dad, lol.

Sleepover Weekend

#ask meme response #ask

[talentforlying]

@formshaper: [dream] do you visit cemeteries often? — GARDEN OF EARTHLY BODIES STARTERS

' what, you don't? tch, the way you doll up, squire, i'd've thought trippin' amongst the tombstones would be yer go-to weekend off. best be careful, or the kids'll call you a poser. '

it all falls dismally flat, artificial mirth tapering out into heavy silence. he tips his head back and blows out a breath, the rising fog of life crystallizing in the cold air; the only sign of life, within these gates. ' you askin' me if i do it fer kicks, or to grave-dig? answer's the same either way: not really. ' he looks sideways to flash dream a humorless grin. ' gets dead boring around here. '

two rows back and three left from the open grave he's standing in, alba suria is buried. four back and seven right is nigel archer, despite his fervent fucking wish to be cryo-frozen and sunk to atlantis, the numpty. ritchie simpson had been cremated — no choice, the state of him — but his sister's plot is three rows down from rick the vic's, which is eight across from straff and his mum, forty feet from the fence that separates all your average everyman's corpses from intruding on the solace of the wannabe pharaohs of london and keeps albert case securely guarded inside the sackville mausoleum.

so, yeah, maybe he does visit cemeteries a bit often. why not? all his friends are here.

' . . . do they dream? where they are? ' he doesn't know why he asks. he certainly doesn't fucking want to know the answer. he chucks the spade out of the hole and crouches down to shove his hands in the dirt, digging with a viciousness born of defensiveness, carving past worms and shavings of rotted wood and grimacing as tiny pebbles squeeze up underneath his fingernails. there's something cathartic about the pain, about breaking his manicure down into mess. there's something cathartic about getting his hands dirty. ( better late than never, right me old mates? ) ' always sort of hoped they would. maybe just to pass the time, like. or to make it easier losin' everything and everyone you ever cared about. 'ere — '

he straightens up abruptly and tosses something out of the grave to dream: it's a skeletal forearm, with just enough stubborn ligament to keep most of the hand flopping comically at one end. the middle finger is up. constantine's grin is just as wide and toothy as every other six-foot-down denizen of this shithole.

' — give us a hand, wouldje? '

see, that's the really fun thing about being mates with a guy who's not so up on human culture: all the old jokes never get old.

#formshaper #this went! a direction! #john (professional cemetery lurker): why would you ask me this #also john: why would i ask YOU this #also the idea of some goth kids calling dream a poser has me ROLLING #ask to tag / #( V. ) STEPS FROM THE SHADOWS. ( i. ) #( answered. ) THIS IS JOHN CONSTANTINE. FUCK OFF. #sched.

[pameluke]

was tagged by the immer lovely @cannellaeluce to share my top 10 comfort movies. I'm not actually sure I have 10, but I'll try!

In the random order that I thought of them, except for the first one because that's my absolute favorite movie.

Silverado (1986) Favorite movie when I was a kid, a classic in my family, stellar cast, fun shoot-outs, hot people in leather pants on horses. Amazing score that lingers in my head and cheers me up.

King Arthur (2004) Great score, great cast, lots of pretty greenery, SARMATHIANS OF MY HEART, great fight sequences, hot people being bloodied on horses

PS, I LOVE YOU (2007) For when I need to cry but can't. (I once watched this three times in a row because I really needed to get it out of my system)

The Mummy (1999) I like to reawaken my bisexuality occasionally. It's fun, it's pretty, it's romantic, it's FUN, and there would have been hot people on horses if they hadn't been on Beni's side of the river.

Transformers (2007) Mostly it's the score, but also the cars transforming into robots and fighting other robots is just fucking cool. Best at getting me out of the couch when I'm struggling with my mental health.

Fast Five (2011) In a way all the Fast and Furious movies are comforting. There is something incredibly relaxing about hot people in hotter cars and lots of explosions. Fast Five is my favorite though because FUN HEIST and Han and Gisele <3 <3

White Fang (1991) Big Nostalgia factor. Young Ethan Hawke and a wolfdog struggle to survive in Alaska. The Gold Rush! THE NATURE. The drama and evil bad guys. The love between the wolf and the boy... Love the book as well, but the movie, argh, my heart.

9. and 10. Should probably go together to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Two Towers is probably my favorite of the three, but Fellowship the most comforting, but then Return of the King has 'DEATH DEATH DEATH' but also all of the healing and 'you bow for no one' and honestly, I never just watch one. I'll watch Two Towers first, cry when Haldir dies (my favorite moment of the trilogy is when the elves arrive, the whole battle of helms deep runs me through the whole scala of human emotion which is comforting in how cathartic that is), then start the whole trilogy. Perfect blanket and hot chocolate in the couch weekend comfort.

Tagging @vrabia, @soleil-moon-bye, @antiquecompass if you're in the mood, no obligation of course. I always feel awkward about tagging, so everyone who wants to is welcome to list their fav comfort movies. (I added a lot of thoughts because I was in a talking mood, but that's just extra!)

#close contenders were Free Willy and The Big Short #i don't know why i find that last one comforting either #but i rewatch it often #i think it's in the way they explain things #but also in the way that it's genuinely evil and a horrible thing that happened #and there are people angry about it on screen #have we hit a low point in history that the mere fact that people object to injustice on screen #is enough to be comforting? #all signs point to yes #otoh #my brain is also just weird #and apparently really loves hot people on horses or in cars dealing with explosions #why are action movies so comforting? #gladiator is also probably missing #great score and scenery and fights #i think it fills the same niche as king arthur in a way but I rewatch that more #otoh i have done more real life on filming location reenactments of gladiator #movies i love

[russilton]

i reread the post a second time and i am absolutely barking at your george characterization. it's george in a different font but it still feels like him, and the way he reacts to everything just feels so real and human— although i am also in pain thanks 😭😭 /lh

but agh. him getting that merc contract feels CATHARTIC. i can't wait to see how it gets announced and publicized and how george is gonna rub it in redbull's faces. my god if this was real i swear the entirety of the internet would EXPLODEEE - @ruszhou

*through welling tears* thanks bro

It… God it means so much to me to hear he’s still in character. Writing George and Lewis for that AU is such a mixed experience. They’re sharper, meaner, they don’t hold back, and while it’s so fun it’s also weird as hell! It’s all fun and games saying they hate fuck till you have to write the hate… but like it’s a very weird kinda hate too, it’s skin deep, George doesn’t ever hate lewis he just wants his attention. Lewis doesn’t hate George either, he’s honestly deeply impressed by his driving skill, he just wishes george would be skilled somewhere out of his way sometimes. They are the personification of “the line between love and hate is paper thin”

Redbull George au spoilers below the cut

I was actually trying to plot all that out last night on my au timeline (I know, it’s painfully nerdy, but it helps develop the fic lmao) and George is going to sign just before Brazil for the sheer “fuck you” power it gives Lewis over Red bull that weekend, but his signing won’t be announced till WELL after the season ends. They don’t want to risk George getting possibly physically retaliated against by RB before the season is over. Lewis has to impress upon George how important it is he still fight Lewis on track, they all need to play the part. George humourlessly points out that Red bull have been deliberately using his car as a test car since Hungary, so he couldn’t fight Lewis if he tried. Lewis restrains all his angry sad feels about that.

I haven’t started on my points spreadsheet yet so I can’t say how George effects the WDC standings fully, but I still intend for them to go into AD on equal points, but George DOES assist Lewis ever so slightly by not fighting him as hard as Perez did, allowing Lewis to build a better lead gap. It’ll probably go that when his car craps out he drags it round to the pits so he doesn’t risk causing Lewis a safety car. Red bull can’t accuse him of anything, they’re the one that nerfed his car after all. Latifi does what George did in irl AD and limps his car to the pits too, there’s no safety car, Lewis wins and George finally feels like he can breathe.

He can’t celebrate with Merc even though he wants to, he just has to watch from afar. Red bull can’t know till he wants them to, but he does let Lewis catch his eye and grin at him.

George doesn’t really want to go back to the Red bull booked hotel that night, they all still hate him and they’re sulking. He and max cross paths once as final speeches are given, and max shoulder checks him hard. George is used to it but he’s so fucking tired, bruised, he wants to sleep this all off. As George is leaving the paddock Lewis greets him with a PR level driver handshake and back slap, but he presses a hotel keycard into George’s hand before leaving.

It’s a clear message, or at least George thinks it is. He and Lewis haven’t slept together since around silverstone bc of what Redbull were doing to George, but George figures this is a signal. He’s not sure he really wants to have sex, he just wants to sleep, but he doesn’t want to be alone surrounded my people who are mad at him. He heads to lewis’ hotel room without even going back to his own.

Lewis of course surprises him by rocking up with champagne and something horribly unhealthy they can’t eat during the on season, tells George he figures George needs something to celebrate getting 3rd and his new seat since his team won’t do it. It’s painfully tender and domestic in a way George doesn’t really understand, he keeps looking for signals of something from Lewis, but Lewis just talks to him. When George asks why he isn’t out celebrating with his team, Lewis shrugs and says it gets old after the 6th championship. George knows he’s lying but he can’t call him on it, so he just lets himself get tipsy on hotel champagne and finally let the weight of RB off his chest.

They share a bed, it’s some king size monster bc of course it is, Lewis doesn’t have to scrimp on size or cost in his bookings. They both sleep in their underwear on opposite sides of the bed, George knows he could go back to his hotel alone but he doesn’t want to. He’ll stay here till morning, grab his stuff and get on his flight back to London. It’s fine.

They wake up tangled together because of course they do, Lewis spooned up behind George, strong and steady, holding him tight. They end up having tender, slow morning sex, face to face and embarrassingly vulnerable. A polar opposite to their last angry rough fuck, here Lewis winds a hand with his and presses slow, soft kisses into his jaw while he takes George apart. Lewis praises him for all he’s gone through and George comes so hard he might pass out. He’ll be embarrassed by it all later but right now he just tucks his head into Lewis collar and rocks lazily with his thrusts.

They don’t announce Georges move immediately. They all head back to England, and wait. They don’t want People to think George manipulated redbulls end results, or jumped ship, they want to wait until he’s ready, but then around dec 16th or so redbull tell George they want to sign his AT contract, since he kept in line for the end of the season. They think they’re being so gracious and kind for it. George says sure sure Monday? I’m needed at some family events this weekend. Christian and Marko agree bc sure, they don’t think George has anything else going on. Mercedes announce they’ll be holding a press conference on their new driver line up on Sunday, one week out of AD. Christian even ends up on camera bc itv or something want to interview him for the end of the season and to react to the Merc press news. Nobody knew who Merc would be using to replace Val, it’s been completely silent behind the scenes.

So imagine of course, Christian’s sucked lemon face caught in 4k as Toto announces Lewis and George, who walk out in their contrast matching Merc shirts. Lewis looks like the cat who caught the canary. George looks like he’s terrified but trying to grin through it when Lewis gently bumps his shoulder in support. Toto sing’s George’s praises and announces how excited they are to welcome him to the team. When asked George will say he’s excited to work with a team that puts their drivers first. Christian has to grit his teeth as the itv hosts quiz him on it.

#britcedes #gewis #4463 #mark’s fic tag #asks #george russell #lewis hamilton #hoecedes #redbull george au #ruszhou

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟺𝚝𝚑 || 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚁𝚎-𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎

<I am working on transferring my old writing to this new blog. In an attempt to not over-saturate my taglist, I will be scheduling these for every other day until I am up to date. If you would prefer I remove you from the tag list until this transfer is complete, please let me know!>

Lmao so fun fact: when you get overwhelmed and hate everything you've ever made it's very cathartic to start again from scratch.

Anyways, I spent the weekend completely re-writing Call Me Icarus without the chapter structure. Turns out I get too pressured by it and blow through the plot.

With this re-write, I am sitting at 17,474 words total, about 65 pages with my new set up.

As always, the excerpts are below the cut!

Excerpt of a new dream scene:

“I found you!” I smile, giggling as I say, “You sure did kiddo! Good job!” He was getting at this, though I still liked to make it easy for him to find me. We wouldn’t want the kid getting lost in the halls of the Academy after all. I’m glad I get to have moments like this. I don’t know how it happened, but the kid latched onto me as soon as he saw me. Now, I was essentially a glorified babysitter.

And an excerpt from the most recent portion after the re-write:

The man in front of him took a minute, seemingly contemplating why Icarus was actually here before saying, “Yeah, yeah. Show me the back piece.” He reached up and grabbed the headlamp, turning it off. “Have you been nice to my baby?” Icarus laughed. Of course the first thing Teletarches would want to know is if he took care of his tattoos. He should have expected this. He moved to pull the back of his hoodie up, exposing the winged tattoo he had gotten the last time he was here. That was 2 years ago, now. Had it really been that long since he was last in the shop? Ariadne let out a long, low whistle as the art came into view. The tattoo had been a beast to heal, but the hours of torturous pain and restless nights of endless itching had been worth it. He had spent days ogling at the tattoo any chance he got after it had first healed. The feathers look so real that you could almost feel them when running your hand over the inked skin. It was exactly what he had wanted then some.

Did anyone expect Icarus to be good with kids? Cuz that surprised even me, but it surprisingly fits!

Also, because the full tattoo description is elsewhere *cough*the sex scene*cough* I'll let you know: They're wings! Full wings, spanning from shoulder blade to mid-thigh! similar-ish to this, but larger!:

Anyways, here's the taglist:

@/flowerprose @/isherwoodj @/cream-and-tea @/touchingmadness @/lockejhaven @/marinesocks @/wildswrites @/the-finch-address @/writingpotato07 @/leighvalentin @/inkspellangel @/cljordan-imperium @/outpost51 @/alleahgrinnon

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

#call me icarus #wip update #writing #writeblr #wip excerpt #dark fantasy #wupdate #andi writes

[legolasghosty]

"recreating their first date" for willex 👀😂(this is /hj feel free to delete it actually but also please write it we already planned it out)

Here you go, you gremlin! /aff /t /lh /nm

“I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve just gone on a date,” Willie mused aloud one day as he lay on the couch, his head in Alex’s lap.

Alex looked down at him, a bit confused by the sudden comment. He carefully shifted the hand that was woven through Willie’s dark hair so he doesn’t pull on it. “What do you mean?” he asked. “We literally went out for ice cream after the gig last weekend. Like three days ago.”

“But that was with everyone,” Willie countered. “I meant go out like just us.”

“Yeah, geez Alex,” Reggie snickered from his armchair. “Take your boyfriend out sometimes.”

“Stay out of this,” Alex groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch.

“Gotta be good to Willie or one of us might steal him,” Luke added, winking playfully at Willie.

“Shut it, Leprechaun,” Alex snarked, wrapping a protective arm around Willie’s shoulders. 

“I’m not a leprechaun!” Luke exclaimed, but Alex ignored him.

“I mean, do I just have to choose one?” Willie joked. “Only if Alex and I are a package deal though, I don’t wanna break up with him.” “Oh no, I’m not dating them.” Alex shook his head firmly. “I made that mistake before, not doing it.”

“Okay, we’re gonna unpack that later,” Julie interrupted from the doorway, “but can we go back to the part where you called Luke a leprechaun?”

Luke yelped. “Nope, we don’t need to go back to that, we can just move-”

“His initials are L E P,” Reggie cut in. 

“And he’s short,” Alex added. “So… leprechaun.”

“I’m not that short,” Luke grumbled. 

“Uh huh, and that’s why you’re always climbing on the kitchen counters?” Reggie ribbed.

“Not my fault you guys like putting things on top shelves!”

“Babe, you’re a good three inches taller than me at least,” Julie sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“But you have a reason to be short,” Luke protested. “You drink so much coffee!”

As his bandmates squabled, Alex returned his attention to his partner. “Did you have something in mind when you said ‘date’?” he asked.

“Well being tangible and visible feels like more work than it’s worth, so food seems out of the question,” Willie thought aloud. Then they sat up straight, giving Alex a mischievous grin. “I know, let’s go stand in the middle of the street and scream when the cars go through us!”

Alex stared at them for a second, then slowly shook his head. “No, we are not doing that.”

“But it’s such a rush!” Willie said, grinning.

“I’ll take Alex’s spot if he doesn’t wanna go!” Luke piped up, overhearing their conversation.

“Absolutely not, no running into traffic with my boyfriend!” Alex ordered. Then he turned back to Willie. “Why would you even do that, it’s literally how you died.”

“It’s cathartic,” Willie responded with a shrug and a smile. “Face the thing that killed you knowing that it can’t hurt you anymore. Like how you like it when I call you hotdog, hotdog.”

Alex was about to retort that the two things weren’t really the same, but Reggie interrupted then. “Hey, we can play dodgeball! Except instead of balls, it’s cars! The stakes will be so much higher that way,” he exclaimed, sounding way too excited for something that would kill them all if they were still alive.

“The cars wouldn’t even hit you,” Alex pointed out.

“Exactly!” Willie declared. 

Alex glanced between his boyfriend’s face and his bandmates. “All of you, no. Absolutely not.”

“But it would be fun,” Willie pleaded, giving Alex their best puppy eyes.

“Okay, no, no one is running into traffic,” Julie intervened firmly.

All three ghosts fell silent at her rebuke. She leveled a glare at them all, shot a quick wink at Alex, then headed for the door. “Dad’s making dinner if you guys want something,” she called.

Reggie and Luke immediately darted up after her. Eating was tricky but doable for them now, though Alex suspected the interest was more in spending time with a healthy family than the food.

“You know, if you still wanted to go on a date,” Alex started once he was left alone with his partner, “I might have some ideas.” He held out his hand to Willie.

Willie smiled softly and grabbed his hand. “I trust you.”

Alex felt his heart flutter as he poofed them to the museum where they’d had their first… well, it didn’t feel quite right to call it a date, since neither of them had actually admitted their feelings back then. But it certainly felt like it had more than a friendly hangout. 

“Nice choice,” Willie chuckled as they materialized near the bench Willie had helped Alex move so long ago. 

“Well, this pretty cool person brought be here one time,” Alex joked. “I feel like that went pretty well.”

“Oooo, were they pretty?” Willie asked, feigning ignorance. 

Alex laughed and pulled Willie closer by their joined hands. “I can’t quite remember,” he mused, reaching out to brush a strand of hair back behind their ear. “I haven’t seen him in a bit, I might need a closer look.”

“I suppose he’d have a hard time denying you that,” Willie murmured, gaze flicking between Alex’s eyes and his lips.

“I hope so,” Alex breathed as he leaned in and closed the space between them.

It didn’t end up being much of a ‘date’, more like a cuddle session with a lot of stolen kisses and loud screams, but neither of them complained. Normal dates were overrated anyways.

#legolas tag #legolas filled prompt #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #jatp #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #shelly why did you make me write this? #I love you but whyyyyy? #But anyways I love you #Enjoy!

[miscelunaaa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

HELLO SUNNYYYYY

Ah, I was just wondering about this last night while I was organizing some of my notes, tbh. In a way, all of them are my favorite, because they've all got something I love in them, butttt I do have my favorites 😅 let's dive in!

Sodium Vapor: Ah, wow. I know I literally just wrote this last weekend, but I've never written anything like it. And I finally got to express some really deeply felt shit in a way that made it feel like it was worth feeling. I love this fic. I've reread it maybe five times already. And I'm floored and emotional every single time. In a lot of ways, it feels like a long poem. I'm trash at poetry, to be honest, but this felt so so close to chasing this fleeting emotion and loneliness that's sort of followed me for so long. I'm going to be thinking about this piece of writing for a really long time.

Flat Sprite and Saltine Crackers: I think about this fic all the time. It's another one of those that just hit out of nowhere, and suddenly I was writing and couldn't stop. It's the first example of writing I had where I felt genuinely confident that it did what I wanted it to do. And well, it's Dad!Joon. It almost never misses.

Give Yourself a Try: This fic held my hand when I needed it most. I'm still shocked it happened at all sometimes, and posting it was really kind of stressful. When you really really pour your heart into something like this, you get concerned that all of the feelings you've built into it are going to be overlooked for the 3k of smut at the end. I genuinely had that concern, because it often feels like folks on Tumblr are just after p0rn. This simple fact has been an enormous stressor over the past several weeks and it's irritating as fuck, especially if you're writing for the reasons I am. Instead, this fic became so much more than that for so many people. It's the best gift and love letter I could have written for myself, and so many other people felt the same and felt seen in a way I never expected them to. I cannot thank them enough for sharing their vulnerability with me. It was an amazing experience.

Three Minutes: I shit y'all not, I wrote this in the span of like, three or four hours. The note's creation time is 10:31 am, and the posting time is 3:22. I ate somewhere in there, and did some editing. Sometimes something just comes over you. This one made me so soft. Writing is often an emotional experience but this one was a little closer to home than the rest. That feeling of helplessness that one often feels when a faraway friend needs care and you're not there? That's something I feel regularly and deeply. So this was cathartic in away. It's also another example of a piece of writing that felt like it did what I intended it to do, and that's a feeling I deeply cherish.

Things Left Unsaid: I .... really have no other reason for picking this other than Rancher!Joon make brain go BRRRRRRRR and I really really love the fact that I got to be a little nitpicky about period costuming. I also really love the dynamic that these two have. I should have waited to make this something bigger but at the time I just needed something quick and hot and smutty and a little angry and just something about two people figuring their shit out together. I’m hoping I can get myself to revisit these two some time soon. They deserve it!

Alright, well that’s enough feelings for the day. The ups and downs of the past month are being keenly felt on the heels of the ongoing shit show that is being a human in this place and at this time so I’m going to go throw myself into working on something, and hope for the best. If you’ve made it this far, thank you! This was fun, albeit a little wobbly, to write :)

#asksss #sunshinerainbowsbts #chainmail 🥰

[ebiemidnightlibrarian]

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better.

Tagged By: @chronic-ghost my beloved, you are AMAZING!

Name: Eloah :3

Star Sign: Aries (no, I'm not the rl incarnation of 'anger' from Inside Out lol)

Height: last time I checked I was 5'6", so yeah, Father Paul would easily pin me to a wall.

Time: 22:01 pm

Birthday: March 24th

Favorite Bands/Favorite Solo Artists: Humm what a hard task, it changes sometimes, but I'll keep my all-time favourites; David Bowie, Bauhaus, The Smiths, Joy Divison, She Wants Revenge, Queen, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Edith Piáf, Al Bowly, Vera Lynn, Chico Buarque, Elis Regina, Cauby Peixoto, IAMX, Florence + The Machine, Aurora, Queens of the Stone Age, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, The Weekend, The Lumineers, Cage The Elephant and Coldplay. (yeah, my music taste it's quite unusual, but like the olds would say; Call wine, wine.)

Last Movie: Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness — Sam Raimi gave me a full meal of fun, horror, drama and dark humour.

Last Show: AHS: Hotel — revisiting one of my favourites gothic atmosphere and Lady Gaga was *chef's kiss* as the Countess. The soundtrack for that season is also fucking incredible.

When did I create this blog: Ahn, I'm sure of the year, but not of the exact date. It was around January 2017.

What I post: Mostly, moodboards and aesthetics, dark academia and gothic academia; LOTS of fandom stuff and since May of the last year I'm posting fanfiction for a couple of people. Writing keep me sane… well, mostly sane, lol.

Last thing I googled: the word "hermenêutica".

It's a feminine noun (in portuguese we have genre to words). It means science, technique whose object is the interpretation of religious or philosophical texts, especially the Holy Scriptures.

Lmao, this was a bit didactic, sorry.

Other Blogs: None, just this lil one =D

Do I Get Asks?: I DO!! Please, I get so excited when I receive one, it's like Christmas morning!

Why I chose my url: it used to be a quote from the 1976 film 'The Man Who Fell to Earth' — everything begins in eternity —, one of my favourites for a very long time. But I started to think the url was too long, so I decided to change to 'ebiemidnightlibrarian' — ebie because it's the first letter of each word from the quotation above;(and also my nickname here bc my real name sounds odd in english, lol); midnight bc Midnight Mass fucking changed my life as a huge cathartic experience, and librarian bc it's my profession lmao.

Following: 459

Followers: 220 

Average hours of sleep: 3-7 hours, usually, but on my day off maybe 12 straight hours. None of them are healthy, but I'm working to fix this.

Instruments: Ohh, if I had the money to pay for the classes, I would TOTALLY play the piano. (However, I love cello too.)

What am I wearing: a terribly old nightdress that used to be pink, sandals, my granny's old jumper and a pair of workout pants from high school, it's really cosy.

Dream job(s): own a small bookshop with a small café and whole lots of first editions, where my manager it's a cute English grandpa (very specific, but I always wondered how it would be to live in England); a research colleague of a really hot literature professor (stealing this one from taylor, bc with some luck this one will become true within the next five years, lol); a guide from an old history museum.

Favourite Food: TEA, LOTS AND LOTS OF TEA! If I can make tea of it, it's great to me. Summer rolls humm I LOOOVE summer rolls; lasagna from almost any type, and specifically my grandmother's wedding cake (she was a full hand baker, once you ate her cakes every other becomes instantly shit.)

Nationality: Brazilian (things are pretty shitty around here, but, hey, it's election year, there's still hope!)

Favorite Song(s): Holy moly, okay, these are all-time favourites from whom I never get sick of:

slow burn — david bowie

tempo perdido — legião urbana (en.: lost time - urban legion, i highly recommend)

blueberry hill — louis armstrong

marian — sisters of mercy

cool cat — queen

stardust — iamx

villains of the circumstance — queens of the stone age

Currently playing on repeat:

janitor of lunacy (demo) — nico

mary on a cross — ghost

heaven is here — florence + the machine

blood in the wine — aurora

young american — the vaccines

animal impulses — iamx

big bad wolf — in this moment

Last book I read: I have just finished reading A Roda de Deus (The Wheel of God) and O Criador da Morte (The Creator of Death). They're the two parts of O Evangelho do Exorcista (The Gospel of the Exorcist), both written by Leonel Caldela.

Those books are an expansion of a Call of Cthulhu RPG tabletop, inspired by various historical events that took place in Europe over the millennials. The first part follows a novice and a priest in 1989 divided Germany who are hunting the minions of the Messenger God of Cthulhu, Nyerlathotep. The second part follows the only surviving character from the original role-play table, he's living the WWII and ALSO another war, one for our souls! Following him gave me a lot of nostalgia, and have great easter eggs for anyone who followed the main campaign. The two parts range from Charlemagne's empire to a dystopian future full of horrors. A terrifying adventure filled with mysteries, exorcisms and extremely immersive historical fiction. (I better stop now or this is going to get GIANT.)

Top 3 fictional universes I'd like to live in: Uhh, I never really thought about that. I would probably try my luck into the Lord of the Rings universe, Crimson Peak's or in Maleficent's, I have a weakness for dark fantasy/gothic worlds lol. Although I ADORE the aesthetic of Wes Anderson's 'The French Dispatch' and 'The Grand Budapest Hotel'. Ugh hard choices.

tagging: @i-was-ok-then-i-saw-hamish @mutt-thingy @rothko-mirror @sallyragdoll @everythingbutresolved @jakegwyllinghall @pegplunkett @littleredwritingcat @hamishlinklaters @plainlo-inthemorning @turbulent-protagonist @fatherpaulsimp @choosekindly @johntylersgirl @girlwiththenegantattoo @raraenocteses @sleepswithvillains @aherdofbees @p-e-r-s-e-p-h-o-n-e @babelincolns @upstartgeek @supplanther @to-taste-your-beating-heart @the-redheaded-league @agirlinherhead @meownsignor @ashton-slashton @apbajs @mysoftboybensolo @mybisexualheartbeatsforzemo @norabrice1701 @jyngerpeach @johnspruitt @lovepollution

(definitely not 30 ppl here, but think if you saw this consider yourself tagged :)

(fun fact, I almost accidentally tagged neil gaiman on this, lol)

#tagged #tag game #thanks for the tag #nice people ♥ #ebie talks #this was really fun thank you sm for the tag hope you feel you know me better now :D

[dankovskaya]

☕️ teen titans go!

This is a good one because I have an inordinate amount of thoughts on it. At first I was definitely part of the crowd that was like "grrr we wanted teen titans back but not like this grr!!!!!!!!" because I was like. 13. So for that reason I planned on having nothing to do with it. BUT my little brother was the perfect age to watch it and it became his television program of choice at some point meaning I basically had no choice but to watch it (plus the bonding of. Us both having a Teen Titans program to be enamored with in childhood) and. Well I have no idea how many seasons there are altogether now or if it's even still running but I'd say I've definitely seen every episode from at LEAST the first 3 seasons multiple times. Both actively watching and passively in the background. So a lot of it is very grating and childish and borderline unbearable which are some of the big complaints people usually have on account of it being. You know. A show for small children. But a lot of it is also genuinely fun and cute some of the jokes really do land and a lot of the (many many) songs in it have NOOOOO business being as good as they are LMAO. Plus the little obscure-ish comics references they throw in for jokes or in the background are fun to pick up on and make me feel like a Real Comics Fan or whatever. I also just like to see tiny silly versions of characters I like it's why I still play the odd Lego game from time to time LOL.

And what's even funnier is that by the time Teen Titans Go! To The Movies (2018) came out my brother had largely outgrown it and thought it was annoying but I was literally completely 100% deadset on seeing it and dragged my family out to the theatres possibly even on opening weekend I don't remember. The ticket lady or whatever was deliberately like "Enjoy the movie!" to my brother because he was you know the only actual child present in the group and he was sooo mad at me because she thought we were seeing it for him when we were really seeing it for me. Hehe. I don't even really remember it now but I do remember enjoying it LMFAO.

But yes if I think about it using my actual brain which you should never never do. I am bothered by it fundamentally for the same reasons I am bothered by the original series which I still love for nostalgia reasons but which haunts and vexes me nonetheless. It's largely responsible for the destruction of Kory's character and design as well as all the design and age related disasters that have befallen Raven over the years (also clearly the basis of all the lame Garth designs too 😭) so I can never forgive it for that. I also fully blame the phenomenon of Raven being paired off with DAMIAN of all people on the little uh "robrae" moments in the original TT. HOWEVER. Specific to teen titans go. I do enjoy the inverse dynamic between Starfire and Robin wherein he is the one desperately and borderline horrifically in love with her while she kind of does not give a fuck and swerves him on every possible occasion. Once again. Cathartic. Great. I think this is a normal length of response for the topic.

#ask #Oh yeah I also watched the teen titans go vs teen titans thing it was cute nostalgic whatever

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I finished my list of queer women (I actually just learned, after finishing their special, that Sarah Keyworth just came out as non-binary like last week, so “queer women” is no longer a completely accurate description, but as far as I can tell it looks like they still identify with womanhood but as a non-binary woman, so I’m not too far off) and their Amazon Prime stand-up specials. That was quite fun to do. Here they are:

- Meaningless by Jen Brister: I’ll say off the bat that this one and Desiree’s were my favourites of all five; those two were both top quality. I realize explaining it this way this could be a backhanded compliment because it’s also calling her old, but Jen Brister had a fair bit in her set about how her forties are much better than her twenties and thirties and she’s quite happy to be at her current stage of life, so I think she’d take it just fine when I say I think this is related to her age and experience. Things like the connections in her show, the way the whole thing was put together, how she sounded so sure of herself in everything she said, seem to be things that come with experience in writing and performing comedy shows. This is the show I’d be most likely to recommend to a friend who doesn’t know any of these comedians, but enjoys really good comedy about its main subjects, which are parenting, lesbianism, and feminism. I am into two of those three things and very much not into the first one, but I found all her jokes hilarious anyway. I loved her energy and her confidence all the way through, her impressions of her children were hilarious, the unapologetic long rants about feminism were cathartic and funny (I know, it’s that thing that people think can’t be both, and Jen Brister does address that assumption), I laughed consistently through the whole thing.

- Immaculate by Catherine Bohart: I’m going to be honest – I didn’t enjoy this one quite as much as I expected to, and I’m not quite sure why. I still enjoyed it, but I went in with somewhat high expectations as I’ve seen Catherine Bohart on a bunch of shows and really like her. Something about the show felt a bit disjointed, like I think I see what she was trying to say but she didn’t connect every dot as well as she could have. However, it still had some great moments. I really like the spine of the show, which was a story about her and her dad and religion and mental health and sexual orientation and how all those things interact. I felt like the way she wound other things about that was a little awkward at times, but there were some good takeaways. Her audience work was really funny too.

- Dark Horse by Sarah Keyworth: This one made me laugh a lot, which is impressive because I’d already heard them tell a few of the major stories on Alan Davies’ As Yet Untitled, but they were just as funny the second time. I was immediately extra likely to warm to their set because a lot of it was about being a gender non-conforming woman, and “What’s the deal with how tomboys are cool when you’re a kid but then everyone thinks it’s weird if you don’t grow out of it?” material will be extra funny to anyone who can relate to it. But there were some fresh takes on that well-trodden ground (I mean, it’s well-trodden specifically by gender non-conforming comedians, not exactly a common mainstream subject), I think my favourite parts were their games of “let’s see if Sarah is more or less liberal than people would assume”. Also there was some really sweet and funny stuff about their experiences as a nanny, a bit of genuine emotion at the end about feminism discovered through their love of a little girl they know, and while I don’t have experiences as a parent, I do have lots of experience with being a parent-like figure to kids who aren’t mine, and some of their stories about that really got to me. Of these five people, I think Sarah Keyworth is the one I knew least well before this weekend, and now that I’ve seen this show, I am interested in following them more closely.

- Dance Like Everyone’s Watching by Suzi Ruffell: Like with Sarah, I’d already heard her tell a couple of the major stories on other shows. Like with Sarah, they were still funny the second time around. I’ve seen a fair bit of Suzi Ruffell on panel shows, but hadn’t seen her do stand-up before, and was surprised to see her energy level goes up when she’s alone on a stage. It’s fairly high on a panel show, but I figured she might even out a bit when she’s doing her own show and in control of the situation. If anything, the opposite happened, and it was fun watch. My favourite part was a story about world pride that was very well told, and then linked back to some stuff from earlier in a really nice way. Her world pride story involved attending that event with Tom Allen, and every time I see her I understand more why those two, who are apparently good friends in real life, would make a hell of a double act. I hope those two get to co-host something someday.

- Unfuckable by Desiree Burch: Well this was the least family friendly stand-up show I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen all five of Frankie Boyle’s DVDs. Desiree kept saying “I know you guys are only here because you’ve heard I used to be a dominatrix and you want to hear weird stories about what that was like” and I kept replying “Actually I only vaguely remembered the dominatrix thing as a fun fact about you, I mainly just fucking loved you on Taskmaster and other panel shows and want to hear your say more words”. Fairly explicit stories of dominatrixing were what I got, whether they were what I expected or not. But what I did expect, and what she fully delivered on, was that every story in the show was put there with intention, made sense with her narrative, and added more laughs. Desiree is known for being a really intelligent comedian, and she really showed that, having all the stories flow into each other and make sense with each other and make a point while being consistently hilarious. It was raunchy sex comedy that would have been a bit funny if it were only there for shock value, but instead it was weaved into this intellectually beautiful tapestry that both tells a story and makes it all funnier. So, you know, not all that different from Frankie Boyle really. One of my favourite stand-up specials I’ve ever seen.

[arleney]

Yay you're playing! For the THATW song ask game, Welly Boots and 1, 2, and 10? <3

Ah! Okay so you immediately went straight for the jugular, I can respect that. I recently visited with my dad’s family so even more feelings have been unearthed. Get ready, I am about to Overshare.

10. When recommending this song to other people, how would you describe it?

Hm. It’s an excellent song and everyone should listen to it, but I can’t imagine telling someone to do so. I have a really hard time recommending things I find very personal.

That being said, I think I did list this song as a favorite when someone was asking, saying it was beautiful and cathartic illustration of grief.

2. How does this song make you feel?

I feel so many things. Joy. Sorrow. Deep and unrelenting rage. Fond.

My best memories of my father are of us singing along in the car. So it makes me want to sing louder, just for him. I also want to scream because how could you leave me here? (Singing along to this song in the car is an Experience for me.)

I was SUCH a weird kid. My dad didn’t fully understand me but he was kind of a weirdo too, so sometimes when people (my mom/brother) don’t get me or find me off-putting, I can feel his fingers down my back and I feel supported. Or, at least, not alone.

“I’m so proud of you” produces such a mix of feeling I’m not sure I can parse it out but it is strong and honestly not great.

“You’re strong enough to do this on your own” well I sort of have to be, don’t I? Rage again. It’s all unbearable but I have to bear it anyway. Why should I have to be on my own? Guilt, because some of that is my fault; my brother was even younger than I was. But that part goes on long enough that I remember that I did my best and I am strong enough. I do have a support system now. And sometimes I even get a reminder, like when I see my family, that there are pieces of him still around.

1. What was your first impression of this song (and has it changed)?

Fun fact! I will not understand a song the first time I listen to it. This song is pretty straightforward but I think it still took me until my third time listening to the album that “you were supposed to be my light/and keep me safe against them all” caught on my brain and then, you know, “‘how could you leave me here?’ you’ll scream” and I wondered what the song was about and how I could project my feelings so strongly into something I thought must have been unrelated. But nope! Not unrelated. Joey Batey just reached in and pulled out my heart to show it to me. Which. I really, really needed at that moment. I restarted the song to just hear the lyrics, and spent the weekend listening to it and crying. Anyway, I thought it was beautiful and perfect and made just for me.

This is the only song that hasn’t changed for me. I interpret their other songs in different ways on different days. I can’t for this one. I know some people think of Welly Boots as a breakup song and I cannot see it. I don’t even want to. I usually like leaving songs as stories that are up for interpretation and can fit multiple narratives but not this one. I like to treat myself with some mild self-absorption, and this one is for me. It is about a father leaving behind his daughter and even though it is a horrible thing, it is not the last thing. The daughter grows up. There is an echo of him in her laugh, her voice, how she moves through the world. There is still rage and loss, but also love, and she can find bits of her father anywhere, even perched by the stairs.

#sorry for the overshare #am I though? undecided #thanks! i love when you do these games #thatw ask game #welly boots

[st4rrg1rll]

05.21.22

sorry no pics of my cute ass outfit but it’s okay lol, i got so many compliments today it was super sweet i love women!!

ummm today was good. i woke up at 8:30 and got dressed and stuff right away and then katie and i went to dunkin for breakfast! and my iced coffee was too sweet. then we went to the farmer’s market and that was super cute and fun! it was such a beautiful day!! and there were so many dogs and beautiful women! and it was right on the river so you could hear the waterfall the whole time, it was fantastic! we walked around to all the stands before going back to buy things, i bought bread and sheep cheeses and mustard and garlic honey which is sooo tasty. i really want to go visit the bee farm (for lack of a better term. it’s midnight okay) that it came from!

after the farmers market we went home to chill out for a little. we tried all the stuff we bought and it was so yummy. the ac broke last night so we just chilled in katie’s room bc she has a portable ac unit going in here. we watched the secret world of arrietty and it was super cute! i almost fell asleep tho lol.

after that it was about 3:30, so we went w aunt maire to the food truck festival that was happening. it was cute but super hot and sunny out. first we had shaved ice and i got watermelon and blue raspberry flavoring. then we shared a stuffed soft pretzel (chicken bacon ranch cheese i think it was, it was amazinggg), and then i had a little brisket sandwich, some french fries, and a coke, appropriate bc we were at coca cola stadium. though the only water they were selling was dasani, yuck tap water. then katie got some cookie dough and we got back in the car to go home.

while we drove home i finally told aunt maire about mary and what she did to me growing up, and we had something like a heart to heart. it was strange to hear her say she was actively trying to get custody of me and alex and looking for any reason to call CPS. the reality of the situation was worse than she imagined and she felt bad about not trying harder, but if CPS had ever been involved in my life, that would have fucked my dad over even more than he already was screwing himself over. but it was nice to get it off my chest and to know how much my family hated her and was worried for us. it was hard for me to talk about, and i struggled to go into detail, but i’m glad i got it off my chest like i said. she deserved to know more than anyone, i think she cared the most. her and my mom were the closest after all.

i cried but it was cathartic. when we got home the atmosphere was light again and i was trying to deal with langston getting locked out and possibly needing to go home tonight but thankfully the key dude showed up and let him in. in case i had to leave tonight i went to see grandma! which was the first time i’d seen her in a long time, i should probably try to get up here on my own without katie more often. it was good to catch up. she’s getting knee surgery again soon. she’s getting old, i don’t want to forget to cherish her, or forget to make her feel as loved as she did for me. i love my grandma.

but yeah, after seeing grandma, we just came back home and have been kind of just chilling on our phones since then. obv i did not need to go back to the city tonight. i’m going to try to go tomorrow before the storm hits. tomorrow we might go to breakfast and then to the creamery for ice cream! that will be fun!

i’m so glad i came up here this weekend. i really needed it!!

#journal #05.21.22