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gohyuck · 4 years

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pairing: ceo!lee donghyuck (haechan) x cfo!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, smut (that’s a first for this acc o.o)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit heterosexual sex (slight dom!hyuck)... like, really, over 50% of this is just sex lol. not a warning but hyuck is implied to be bisexual in this, it’s hinted at once or twice

a/n: sm knew what they were doing, making the 127s play office in full business attire. also, i still think we should eat the rich. just saying. this is not meant to glorify billionaires. i just think hyuck is hot. also! cfo = chief finance officer.

part of a series?: yes, 37.5% viewer ratings, my hyuck bday celebration

🎵 often - the weeknd

☀️ push and pull

“i already emailed you this month’s finance report and talked to the men from kim corp. - i think they’ll end up being major investors. my balance forecasts are done, and,” you pause in your report, your gaze meeting donghyuck’s across his desk before you continue speaking, one corner of your lip quirking up slightly. “and you have a hickey that’s a little too high for your collar to cover.”

“i - what?” the ceo of lee technologies, ltd. hisses out the last word, his brow furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. you put a finger up, silently telling him to give you a moment, before you pull your purse off of the floor and onto your lap. it takes you less than a minute of rummaging to find what you’re looking for: a compact mirror. donghyuck all but snatched it out of your hand, and you see him visibly redden once he realizes that you aren’t pulling his leg.

“shit, (name), i have meetings all day today,” he groans, slumping backwards into his far-too-expensive office chair. donghyuck shuts your mirror and tosses it haphazardly onto your desk before running both his hands down his face in incredulity and embarrassment. his neck is bared as he does this, allowing you to survey the mark further: it’s a deep red and clear as day, likely having been brought into existence the night before. you wonder briefly who it’s from - the pretty secretary who always bats his eyes at the ceo, the diligent but meek girl who can’t keep her eyes off of donghyuck and works in hr on floor 14, the red-lipped and cat-eyed ceo of the company that operates out of the top floors of the highrise next to you? you doubt you’ll ever know. as your heart twinges slightly, you realize that you don’t want to know.

donghyuck groans again, although it dissolves into a petulant whine this time. a chuckle falls from your lips without you wanting to let one out, and your boss glares at you because of this.

“don’t look at me like that,” you scoff, turning your attention back to your bag for a moment. hyuck watches as you triumphantly pull a band-aid from one of the smaller pockets. “here! it’s small enough to be covered by this.”

donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with a highlighter yellow tweety bird band-aid on his neck?” he asks, quirking one eyebrow as he does. still, he leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together as he does.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with evidence that he’s getting laid on his neck?” you throw back, and donghyuck stares at you for a moment before sighing, slumping his shoulders, and reaching his hand out. you drop the band-aid into your outstretched palm.

“it’ll be fine, hyuck,” you tell your boss and longtime friend as he picks your compact up again, using the mirror to place the band-aid properly. “it might even humanize you a little bit.”

“humanize me?” donghyuck asks, though the small lilt to his voice tells you that he’s just fishing for compliments. he knows what you mean. still, you have time today, so you humor him.

“your reputation is all ‘young god’, ‘untouchable billionaire’, ‘genius entrepreneur’, ‘national playboy’,” you point out, watching as donghyuck’s smirk grows, making him look a little bit like an overexcited frat boy. his expression directly contrasts his crisp gray tom ford suit and franck muller watch. “tweety bird might make you more... approachable.”

the young ceo thinks about your words for a moment before flipping his wrist towards himself to read the time. it’s 10:27 - he needs to get down to the main conference room. you stand as donghyuck does, letting him walk past you before you follow. the band-aid is even brighter underneath lights, you note, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at this. donghyuck places his hand on the door handle, though, right before he opens it, he turns back to you.

“you forgot sex icon.”

“what?” your eyes widen for a moment before you force your brows down, scowling at donghyuck’s statement.

“when you were naming off things that make me larger-than-life, you forgot to say sex icon.” he grins, his tone as matter-of-fact as its ever been.

“who says?” you throw back, determined not to let your friend’s ego inflate so easily. he grins before leaning towards you, closer and closer until his mouth is right against your ear. you do your best not to let your breath hitch at the proximity.

“cosmopolitan. they interviewed me for the cover last month, remember? came in the mail today. i’ll give you a signed copy of you want. courtesy of your favorite sex icon.” he tells you, and you swear his lips brush your earlobe before he pulls back, mirth dancing in his eyes. before you can say anything, donghyuck pulls his office door open, stepping aside as he does.

“after you.”

♕ ♕ ♕

the lee donghyuck that exists within his private office and the lee donghyuck that exists outside of it are two entirely different people. his posture is still easy, still open, still exceedingly confident, but the moment he steps out of his office his back straightens up, one hand going to adjust his tie and the other slipping into one of his dress pants’ pockets. he goes from hyuck to haechan, meaning fullsun, the name given to him by the media at some gala or the other a couple years ago. hyuck is your friend from college, a brilliant programmer and free entertainment for those close to him. haechan is a charismatic but cold leader, his eyes calculating as he surveys the empire he’s only just begun building.

he walks out after you, but immediately commands everyone’s gaze. donghyuck’s office is in the corner of the 18th floor - the highest floor of the skyscraper. all of the offices on this floor belong to executives - hell, your office is right next to his, your one wall with floor-to-ceiling windows adorned entirely with a row of potted plants both small and huge - but there’s always plenty of other people milling around on the floor: possible investors, lost interns, secretaries, and employees with questions. today is no exception: several pairs of eyes are directed to the ceo as you stroll out, him in tow.

nobody says anything about the obvious band-aid on haechan’s neck.

“i’ll see you after work,” donghyuck mutters discreetly into your ear, and you nod as imperceptibly as possible before giving your friend a parting smile.

as you head back to your office, haechan’s secretary joins him in step, tablet in hand, to read him off his schedule. as you close your door behind you, ready to bask in the sunlight that’s filtering in, you can’t help but scrutinize the secretary’s slightly rosier-than-usual cheeks, nor the way haechan had straightened his shoulders while speaking to the other man.

if you were one for betting, you’d put down money on the fact that you’ve probably just found the culprit responsible for donghyuck’s bright yellow band-aid. you shake your head sadly as you set your things down on your desk.

the poor boy’s going to get his heartbroken soon.

after all, if there’s one thing donghyuck and haechan have in common, it’s this: commitment is not in the cards. you know this better than anyone.

♕ ♕ ♕

“hyuck, i-”

“shut the fuck up.” donghyuck hisses into your ear, tugging harshly at the front of your shirt as he backs you into the closed door of his office. the material rips away easily, buttons skittering onto his floor as he shoves his warm mouth against yours. your hands go up to snake around his shoulders immediately, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he draws whimpers from your lips. once you part for air, you watch as he studies you for a moment. his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip, and his eyes are beautifully hooded.

you’re already gasping for air. you’re already drowning in him.

“this blouse was from saks, you asshole,” you manage to get out, though you sound more like a petulant child than the indignant business executive you are. he chuckles almost mockingly, simply raising an eyebrow at this before he starts shrugging his suitjacket off, placing it across the back of the chair in front of his desk.

“it’s your fault for wearing a $300 shirt to work,” he throws at you, no bite in his voice. you can’t help but roll your eyes as you push yourself off the door, making to follow him as he settles down into his office chair.

“you’re one to talk - your suit is, what, $4,000 at least? don’t get me started on the fact that you’re wearing a 5-digit watch.” you make your way so you’re standing directly in front of him, shirt torn open to expose your bra and part of your stomach and the top of your skirt hugging your waistline perfectly. donghyuck sticks his tongue into his cheek before leaning forward and tugging you onto his lap with ease, smirking as your skirt flies up momentarily.

“touché.”

his hands cup your ass, fingertips pressing into your skin as he forces them up past your safety shorts. you rise up slightly so you’re situated above hyuck, cupping his face as you look into his eyes. he grins up at you.

“this,” he squeezes your left asscheek fondly before meeting your eyes with his own mischievous gaze. “this is why i instituted a casual dress policy.”

“one hell of a policy, considering the ceo himself doesn’t adhere to it.”

“i don’t need to, baby,” your heart flutters at the term of endearment, and you will it to stop immediately. “after all, i’m the boss, remember?”

“you’re a pig.” you throw back, and he only chuckles before attaching his lips to the skin above your collarbone. donghyuck laves his tongue over the fresh bruises as he dots your clavicle with them, forcing you closer to him by forcefully pushing your hips down towards his. as his lips move southward, brushing over your open chest and spilling kisses onto the tops of your bra-clad breasts, you can’t help but keen loudly and grind down on him of your body’s own accord.

“someone’s hasty to get marked up,” your friend points out, not waiting for a response as he reaches into the large hole in your shirt - a lee donghyuck creation - and around your back, popping your bra open. your mind is too hazy to respond at first, in part due to the way he slips your bra straps down your arms, chasing them with wet, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders before pulling the article of clothing off of you entirely. you can’t help but buck slightly against him as your breasts meet the cool air, and he takes this opportunity to wrap his sinful lips against one of your nipples, one of his hands coming up to run his thumb over the other one.

“you’re - ha - you’re one to talk. mark? really?”

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck pulls his mouth off of you momentarily to speak, eyes sparkling as if he knows he’s teasing you, and you can’t help but flick your own eyes upward in annoyance. suddenly, you feel the need to have his dick in you immediately, as if it’ll fill the growing hole in your heart. you adjust yourself, and donghyuck watches, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady, as you pull your safety shorts off.

he immediately drops a hand to your leg, tracing a finger up the expanse of your inner thigh as his other hand reaches up to grab your chin, gently forcing you to face him so your eyes meet. your mouth goes dry just as he slips two fingers into your wet heat, and you can’t help yourself as you rut forwards, grinding on his hand. the whine you let out has donghyuck’s eyes becoming even more hooded, almost naturally smoky, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck says again, and you realize he hadn’t finished his thought earlier. you hate that he’s speaking about another person when his fingers are knuckle deep inside your sopping heat, but it’s donghyuck - your hyuck, who’d held your hair back when you puked at frat parties and who let you crash on his dorm room floor whenever it was too late to walk to your own place - and you can’t say anything about it. “but if you wanted me to yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

your heart stops, but not before he has the audacity to wink at you.

“we need to fuck,” you choke out, finding it hard to breathe even though his hands are nowhere near your throat. “now.”

the desperation in your voice, the way your pert nipples are right in his face, and the way you’re humping his hand like a bitch in heat all have donghyuck groaning and rolling his head back on his shoulders. he flicks his chin towards the top drawer of his desk right behind you, and you use one hand to brace yourself against his shoulder as you lean back to pull the drawer open. this unwittingly forces hyuck’s fingers to angle deeper inside you, hitting the bundle of nerves in the back of your cunt exactly in a way that has you moaning his name long and low. your grip slips off of the drawer handle without you meaning to, and you scramble, patting your hand haphazardly around in the drawer before you come across a condom. you pull it out, slamming the drawer shut triumphantly before turning back to hyuck. he pulls his fingers out of you before you come, much to your chagrin, but you realize that you’ll be coming around his cock in no time.

“my blouse was actually about $600,” you say, your eyes meeting his as you tear open the wrapper. he lets out a chuckle before raising his fingers - covered in filmy strings of your arousal - to his mouth and wrapping his tongue around them like it’s the easier thing in the world. you feel yourself clench. he wraps one arm around you before shifting slightly, and you realize he’s unzipping his own pants.

“i’ll buy you another one.” is all donghyuck says before pulling out his thick length, and you swallow on impulse as his bulbous tip, oozing precum, comes into your view. you want it - need it, you decide as you recall his earlier statement about having him for yourself - and you need it now. you hand him the condom, and he rolls it on with a small grunt before both of his hands fly to your ass. just as you’re about to sit down properly on his cock, fill your voids the way they’re meant to be completed. donghyuck stops you with his hands on your hips.

you look down at him, and your eyes meet his for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“are you sure?” he asks, and you fall deeper in love with him even though he’s doing the minimum. you’re sure, you realize, and you nod before remembering that he has to hear you say it.

“yes, i’m sure.” your voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but donghyuck says nothing of it. he grips your thighs, spreading them as much as he can without pushing you off the chair - he’s grateful it has no handles - before pressing his tip to your entrance. you press both of your hands into your shoulders as you sink yourself onto his throbbing dick, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you do. it takes you a moment to adjust - usually the foreplay is much longer - but once you’re ready, you start bouncing on donghyuck’s cock, setting the pace for yourself.

it doesn’t take long for you to get to the brink of orgasm - riding hyuck has always placed the head of his dick directly against the place inside you that makes you see white behind your eyes. for his part, he shoves you down onto himself when you start tiring out, tugging on a nipple in between his teeth or running his tongue down against your skin or slapping your ass and causing you to buck against him as he sees fit.

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and the sex only gets better.

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and everyday, every damn day, you curse your heart more and more. you curse your feelings when donghyuck whines as he nears his high, too, and you curse yourself for spending your ability to love deeply on the one person who won’t take it as he finally takes over, anchoring you against his body while his hips snap up into yours. he’s chasing your orgasm just as much as he’s chasing his, and when donghyuck pulls you down to smash his lips against yours, forcing you to taste the red wine he’d had with dinner on his tongue, while circling your clit with one finger like a madman, you can’t help but let go completely, clenching and spasming and shaking around his length and in his arms. this is all it takes to push him over the edge, too - he spills into the condom with a beautiful, keening whine against your shoulder.

it’s only when donghyuck looks up at you after catching his breath and his face falls that you realize you’re crying.

“(name) - sweetheart, what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

his recognition of your state has the dam breaking, and you shake your head frantically to soothe him as your tears start falling more heavily. he wraps his arms around you immediately, pulling you into his chest as he does. donghyuck waits patiently for you to speak.

“i - i can’t do this anymore,” you start off, and you feel his arms tense around you. before he can interject or argue, you forge ahead. “i cant! i can’t fuck you and stay your friend - just your friend. i can’t sleep with you knowing that you’re the only one for me when you’re out there hunting down anyone that looks at you, i just - i can’t. i can’t...” you trail off, breaking down into sobs again while burrowing your face into his shirt. it’s expensive, you know it is, and now it’s ruined with your tearstains. you try not to think about it.

donghyuck is silent for one, two, three beats. for a long moment, all you can hear are the sounds of your own bawling, your own quiet sniffling and hiccuping. his hand runs a soothing trek down your back.

finally, he speaks.

“i haven’t fucked anyone else in 6 months.”

that is the one thing you’d never expected him to say.

“but... mark? the hickey?”

“that’s all it was,” he says, forcing you back slightly to be able to look at you as he speaks. hyuck raises a hand, wiping your stray tears away gently with his thumb before continuing. “for 6 months, i’ve kissed people and made out with them, but only half-heartedly. every time it’s gotten close to getting heated, i’ve had to stop. do you know why?”

you shake your head, sniffling as you do. his heart cracks at how forlorn you look, how innocent and confused you seem. he’s suddenly well-aware of the fact that he’s still sheathed inside your dripping pussy.

“because every time i was with someone - anyone - else, all i could think of was you. you’re the only one for me, baby. i think you always have been. i didn’t say anything because i didn’t think you’d want me.”

“not want you?” your voice is strong enough to sound properly incredulous now. “you know me better than anyone else. you’ve been there for me when i’ve needed you, and you’ve asked me to be there for you when you’ve needed me. we built all of this together. you’re everything, hyuck. you’re my everything.”

he lowers his head almost bashfully, and you know that he’s processing what you’re saying. donghyuck’s never been good at registering compliments - it’s a side-effect of always moving, always pushing forward - but you can tell that he’s savoring your words. it makes him even more endearing in your eyes. eventually, he looks up at you again, soft smile gracing his features.

“are we good?” he asks, and you can feel your heart sewing itself together again at the genuine honesty in his eyes. he really does love you back. you nod, before leaning in to capture his lips against yours in a chaste kiss.

“we’re good.”

bonus:

“this is great, and i’m going to ravish you when we get home, but right now i really, really need to get this condom off and you probably really need to piss,” donghyuck says, lifting his hips to force you off of him. you swing your legs over to stand, leaning against his desk for support as you watch him tie the condom up and toss it into the bin underneath his desk.

“when we get home?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. donghyuck stuffs his cock back into his boxers and makes sure his slacks are on properly before standing up to situate himself in front of you. he takes both of your hands in his.

“you think i’m letting you spend a night alone when you said i’m the only one for you? not fucking likely. now hit up the bathroom and then let’s go,” he says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “i brought the bugatti today.”

#nct-writers #kwritersworldnet #thekpopnetwork #fullsunnet #haechan #donghyuck #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan fluff #donghyuck smut #donghyuck angst #donghyuck fluff #nct #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan x reader

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shortnotsweet · 3 years

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The Allegory of the Tin Man, the Dictator, and the Knight: a Dissection of Ironqrow and a Character Arc of Failure

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

— L. Frank Baum

A brief Ironqrow meta and character analysis of James Ironwood, the ultimate screw up, in three parts.

I. Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

II. Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

III. Ironwood, Alone

Qrow and Ironwood’s Homoeroticism in Canon Source Material and its Translation

Within the Oz series, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are layered within homoerotic subtext, even if it is included unintentionally. Tison Pugh’s analysis Queer Utopianism and Antisocial Eroticism in L. Frank Baum's Oz Series posits that the land of Oz as portrayed within the series is a largely asexual environment of suspended adolescence that involves the deviation of binary gender norms, and of performative heterosexuality. Pugh refers to it later as a “queer utopia”. Men are portrayed as a lesser military force to women, and heterosexuality is a flimsy presence at best; all signs of procreation within Oz are stifled. While this could be chalked down to Baum not wanting to get into the subject of sex and exploration in a children’s series, it does contribute to a particular tone with real-life critiques of capitalism and a particular deconstruction of gender norms. Ozma, who will become the ruler of Oz after the Wizard and the Scarecrow respectively, for example, is originally a boy named Tip (the name itself holds phallic implications) who is “transformed” into a girl. The strongest military force is one of all-women led by a rebellious female general. Pugh observes, “At the same time that Baum satirizes...women as leaders…he consistently depicts women as more successful soldiers than men, and female troops appear better capable of serving militarily than male troops…[the] male army comprises of twenty-six officers and one private, and they are all cowards…” and cites the Frogman’s declaration that “Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all...they are more brave than men, and they have better nerves”.

RWBY itself isn’t opposed to this kind of subversion, either in its characters or its relationships. There’s an obvious effort to include LGBTQ+ representation (albeit primarily in the background), strong female characters are prevalent and make up most of the main and supporting cast, a character’s gender is not strictly reliant on its source material, and BlackSun, while cute and a valid ship in its own right, is treated as a heterosexual red herring to Bumbleby. Additionally, there have been a lot of hints by the voice actors, writers, and creators on social media that Qrow himself is queer, the infamous Ironqrow embrace included.

Admittedly, if I wanted to write an essay about the likelihood of Qrow being LGBTQ+ or having some kind of queer identity, I would probably focus more on his relationship with Clover, which had a lot more overt and probably canonically intentional Gay Vibes, and despite having known Qrow nowhere near as long as Ironwood has, it has just as much, if not more, to extrapolate. Unfortunately, that’s not the main point of this essay, although it remains relevant. While I personally don’t doubt that Qrow has had sex with women or experiences valid sexual attraction to them, I get the feeling that it is, to a degree, a performative act and a masculine assertation of enjoyment intended as a coping mechanism. It plays into the trope of the handsome, tortured alcoholic (best exemplified, perhaps, in the MCU’s Tony Stark, Dean Winchester in Supernatural, and critiqued in the superhero episode of Rick and Morty) who sleeps around just to recall the feeling of intimacy, or because he associates sexual ‘degradation’ as a reflection of his worth. Real self-deprecating, slightly misogynistic stuff. Qrow’s recall of short skirts, as well as his brief exchange with the waitress in an earlier volume, reminds me of one specific interaction between the Scarecrow and his own love interest. Within the series, the Qrow’s source-material counterpart, the Scarecrow, has one canonical love interest, the Patchwork Girl:

“Forgive me for staring so rudely,” said the Scarecrow, “but you are the most beautiful sight my eyes have ever beheld.”

“That is a high compliment from one who is himself so beautiful,” murmured Scraps, casting down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her head.

Pugh points out that the two of them never develop this relationship further than flirtation, and heterosexuality is reduced to a “spectral presence” lacking the “erotic energy [driving] these queer narratives in their presence”. Specifically, Qrow never reveals a serious or long running heterosexual love interest - he is not the father! [of Ruby] (despite much speculation that he and Summer Rose were involved) and he and Winter never really moved past the stage of ‘hostility with just a hint of sexual tension’ - and there is no debunking of potential queerness. His interactions with Clover (deserving of an entire essay on its own) seem to support this interpretation, and is more or less a confirmation of some kind of queer inclination or identity. Again, the “queer utopia” of Oz comes at the cost of the expulsion of the sexual or the mere mention of reproduction - still, through this device, same-sex relationships gain a new kind of significance with the diminishing nature of heterosexuality. Speaking of queer narratives, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man have the most tender and prolonged relationship of perhaps all the characters in the series, exchanging a lifelong commitment:

“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”

Within the source material, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow voluntarily live together, and are life partners in nearly every sense of the word. The second book in the Oz series is The Tin Woodman of Oz. In summary, the Tin Woodman recalls that he had a fiancée before the events of the first book, forgot all about her, and now must search her out so that they can get married. Who does he ask to accompany him in this pursuit? None other than his no-homo life partner, the Scarecrow. Although this sounds like a stereotypical heteronormative storyline, “this utopian wonderland...rejects heterosexual procreation...First, the Tin Woodman does not desire...Nimmie Amee...” and even acknowledges that due to the ‘nature’ of the heart that the Wizard had given him, he is literally incapable of romantically or passionately loving or desiring Nimmie, and by extent, women in general - to me, that works perfectly as an allegory for a gay man who is literally incapable of experiencing legitimate heterosexual urges, but ‘soldiers on’ out of obligation and societally enforced chivalry. “The Tin Woodman excuses himself from the heteronormative imperative...Only his sense of masculine honor, rather than a heteronomratively masculine sex drive, impels the Tin Woodman on his quest to marry his long-lost fiancée.” Again, Ironwood’s character follows the lines of propriety within the sphere of the wealthy elite, and his persona as a high-ranking military man and politician, as well as the conservative values instilled within Atlas, prioritize duty and obligation. This kind of culture is stifling and in a lot of ways aloof, as the upper class deludes itself into believing that it is objectively better and more advanced than its neighboring territories. *ahem the myth of American exceptionalism ahem*

“There lived in the Land of Oz two queerly made men who were best of friends. They were so much happier when together that they were seldom apart.”

I think it’s funny that the characters that Ironwood and Qrow are based off of are canonically the closest of friends, who coexist almost as a unit. In contrast, the first introduction we get of Ironwood and Qrow is a hostile exchange where they’re at each other’s throats, never on the same page, and never in sync, not when it matters. Indeed, Qrow snaps at Ironwood for his lack of communication, which is a recurring issue between the two of them on notable occasions. If the source material is anything to go by, there should be a significant relationship between the two of them, or at least some kind of connection, even if it goes unspoken or unacknowledged. To be fair, in RWBY’s canon, I think there is.

I’ve seen this joke that while Qrow hates the Atlas military, the only people he really seems to flirt with is Atlas military personnel. “Ice Queen” is something I interpreted to be partially hostile, partially mocking, and partially flirtatious, in equal spades - the voice actors and creators have indicated that it was flirtatious, and there was a whole Chibi episode dedicated to the concept of Qrow and Winter’s extrapolated sexual tension, albeit in jest. I might argue that his use of abbreviates aren’t reserved for people he dislikes, but for people who bring out his playful side. “Brat”, “Pipsqueak”, “Firecracker”, and “Kiddos” are all drawn from a place of affection, however short or mocking it may seem, because that’s what crows do: they mock others.

Qrow has little nicknames for people; while it’s not exclusively a sign of affection, I do get the feeling that ‘Jimmy’ is an informality that irks Ironwood, but can also be interpreted as Qrow giving James what he needs, rather than what he wants.

Glynda is by no means a pushover, but in assuring him that while he does questionable things, he’s still a good person, she’s softening the blow and probably further enabling deeply rooted and pre-existing traits, many of which contribute to his problematic control complex. It is established early on that Qrow resents the military (as he should), and it is implied that he’s spent a fair amount of encounters harassing and provoking military personnel (Winter being the most evident example of this), and has insulted the military numerous times to Ironwood’s face. He lectures Ironwood about the way he conducts his operations, his inability to communicate, and basically what a complete, inconsiderate asshole he really is.

What Ironwood needs is someone who operates outside of the pretense that he works, breathes, and lives under, and just tells it like it is. Jimmy isn’t all that - he’s a person, just like the rest of us, and he can flaunt all the titles that he wants, but James stripped down is still just Jimmy.

Qrow also is the kind of person who pries, who is insistent, and not particularly sensitive. For someone like Ironwood who has a lot of (physical and emotional) barriers, logically, in order for him to receive genuine understanding, Qrow fits the profile of someone who is invasive but not exploitive, who sees past the cracks in his armor and takes him for what he is. What is just important is that whoever Ironwood is with is someone who makes him want to try not only to be better, but to be real; thematically, General Ironwood seems to have a great respect for but a deep struggle with authenticity. He clearly resents the ignorance and frivolity of Atlas’s wealthy elite, as evidenced by his support for Weiss at the dinner party in announcing that “she’s one of the only people making any sense around here”, while struggling to project the facade that he’s carefully created.

See, we don’t have evidence that there is something going on between Ironqood and Qrow so much as we have enough evidence to inconclusively say that there’s not not something going on. I think there’s enough evidence to support the idea that something could be going on, or was going on.

When Qrow saves Ironwood at the Battle of Beacon, who is under the false impression that Qrow believes him to be the culprit of the attacks, his eyes follow Qrow and we get a closer shot of his awed expression; we the viewer can only imagine what he sees as Qrow arcs through the air and slices down a Grimm from behind his back. The focus on Ironwood’s expression portrays something like shock (so Qrow wasn’t trying to attack me after all, but then what the hell is he doing?), maybe wonder (I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t look away), maybe respect (I know he’s a good Hunter, but I’ve rarely seen him in action), but it is unfiltered nonetheless. In a show where fight scenes are vital to the progression of the story itself, the dynamics of these fights are at their best when they are character driven, whether it is revealing or reinforcing something about the characters and their relationships, or it is deciding their fates. There’s something to be said about characters being given moments together in battles, and what that says about the significance of their relationship. The best example of this might be the battle between Blake and Yang vs Adam; it served to give Adam what he deserved, help Blake and Yang reach closure in certain aspects of their own trauma, and solidify the bond between the girls. Similarly, Qrow and Ironwood’s moment is meant to reveal a theme that will later be revisited in volume 7; trust. Ironwood is startled but not shocked when he believes that Qrow distrusts him to the degree of attacking him, and is ready to attack or defend as needed.

Qrow tells him what he needs to hear, more or less: YOU’RE A DUMBASS. Ironwood is, indeed, a dumbass. While he does extend the olive branch of trust and good will to CRWBY and co. this trust is highly conditional and proves to be, while from a place of desperation and sincerity, at least partially performative.

When Ironwood snaps, he snaps hard.

Amber’s voice actress tweeted early on, joking that Qrow has two Atlas boyfriends, and Arryn has made comments, too. It’s one of the older ships, and the crew is certainly aware of it (“...extended chest bump...”).

Kerry has stated that he finds the Ironqrow relationship interesting, and wishes it had been explored more (additionally, allegedly lobbying that Ironwood’s arm in the Ironqrow hug scene be slightly lower). I’m not saying that they’re going to both make it out alive, or canon, or even that romantic subtext was intentionally woven into the script. All I’m saying is that I think their relationship is interesting too, especially when the subtext of their source material relationship is taken into context, and the way their characters are positioned is suggestive of some sort of compatibility, even if it is a hit or miss kind of opportunity, and I have the sinking suspicion that it was missed on both accounts.

The Tin Woodman of Oz concludes,

“All this having been happily arranged, the Tin Woodman returned to his tin castle, and his chosen comrade, the Scarecrow, accompanied him on the way. The two friends were sure to pass many pleasant hours together in talking over their recent adventures, for as they neither ate nor slept they found their greatest amusement in conversation.”

Ironwood’s Repressed Characterization and the Inherent Chivalry of the Dictatorship

“I don’t give a damn about Jacque Schnee...what about the other two? Do not return to this office until you have Qrow Branwen in custody.”

“And that’s not all we’ve lost...I had Qrow in my hands, and I didn’t do what needed to be done.”

Observe: Ironwood, at this point, does not care about politics. I doubt he’s ever wanted to, or ever liked it (if his tired outburst at the dinner party is any indication) but his Knightly qualities (we’ll get to that) have, up till this point, prompted him to adhere to them for both power and etiquette. James surrounds himself in a world that he understands and despises; more than anything, he’d like to be a general, a commander, and the Knight in Shining Armor archetype, because warfare is something he understands. It is a testament to his (superhuman) willpower that he forces himself to become fluent in the language of politics, and to live and breathe in it. To clarify, Ironwood sees himself as a man who does what needs to be done; if he wants to change and control Atlas, he will have to involve himself in its politics.

Likely, his resilience has contributed to the way he views himself and what he deserves, as someone long-suffering and almost martyr-like, a silent hero doing what needs to be done. But at the moment, he’s lost his goddamn mind coming undone. He’s murdered and jailed his political dissent (and might have considered executing prisoners), but at this point, that’s all that Jacque and Robyn are to him. First he dismisses Jacque, narrows it down to the two escaped prisoners, and finally reveals what’s really on the forefront of his mind: Qrow, free and out of his hands.

[ When recalling this dialogue, please do so while imagining a bad recorder cover of the Titanic music playing over the background. Here is a sample. ]

In the most recent episode, Ironwood seems to have gone off the rails even further. The fact that Winter, his most faithful lieutenant, is losing her unshakable faith in him, says a lot about how hard he’s fallen off the deep end. In Winter’s mind, I think that she sees him almost as a surrogate father figure, or at least a patriarch who can be positively compared to Jacques in every way. The previous volumes go to lengths to compare the two as adversaries and showing James in a favorable light; Winter is in her own personal horror right now, because she is beginning to understand that Ironwood is a man who may not be her father but is just as susceptible to corruption, and may have been that kind of person all along. Skipping over the...ah, genocidal tendencies, and the fact that he’s proposing to kidnap Penny’s friends to force her to obey him and likely is starting to realize that Winter is the perfect bait (let’s just say that “Ironwood is not good with kids” is the understatement of the year) Ironwood wants Qrow back (in captivity), I think that it’s significant that while Ironwood registers that Robyn is gone as well, his first priority is Qrow, probably for two reasons. On one hand, he still refers to Qrow by his first name, instead of the formal Branwen. Of course, that doesn’t have to mean anything at all. They’re colleagues within the same age range, both members of the same secret brotherhood and similiar skill sets.

On the other hand, it reminds me of the moment when Qrow and the kids first fly into Atlas, and they see the heightened security, and Qrow mutters, “James...what have you been doing,” under his breath, sounding concerned, apprehensive. He’s not addressing the kids, he’s talking to himself; he regards James much more seriously both as a potential threat and a friend than he’d rather the other know, and I think that James’ focus on Qrow at this point is similiar, only not only is this a sign of them knowing each other well, but of Ironwood’s slipping control. He offered Qrow his trust and camaraderie, his last attempt to keep a handle on his humanity (or, his heart). Qrow, in return, withheld vital information, got close with another operative instead, then allegedly killed him and and escaped ‘rightful’ imprisonment.

The Tin Man is offering Qrow his heart, at least proof of it, and the Scarecrow [and co.] steps back to observe the situation, and assesses that no, what you are going to do is wrong, and I cannot agree with it.

Ironwood is not an objective person, as much as he wants to be. He’s angry, desperate, scared, and humiliated. Worst of all, he’s rebuffed, and he’s taking Qrow’s escape personally. First, he understands that Qrow is a threat. He’s Ozpin’s best agent, he has years of field experience, and he knows too much, probably more than James knows. Second, they have history.

My personal interpretation of Ironwood is something this:

He’s a sad, sad, lonely bitch. What Ironwood longs for, just like his source material counterpart, is a heart. He will go to any lengths to achieve this, because he believes that he has self awareness and therefore is able to check and balance himself. He treats his subordinates well, is diplomatic, skilled in a variety of trades, fighting the good fight, and longs for the affirmation that yes, he is a good person, and yes, he’s had a heart all along. He just strays from the path, and loses his way.

This is symbolically represented by his partially mechanic exoskeleton; we have no idea how far the cyborg extremities extend, or how deep, but we do get the visual notion of humanity in conflict, or a man’s soul deconstructed and split between the cold efficiency of machinery and the very real warmth of a human body. Ironwood wants to appear human, and benevolent, and genuine, and in return, loved; he is human, and he could be all of these things. If my reliance on the source material holds any merit (although I highly doubt it), then there is also a potential struggle with sexuality, (Glynda herself even explicitly and exasperatedly references a testosterone battle between Ironwood and Qrow, suggesting a regular overassertation of masculinity) and a further incentive to achieve love and subsequent acceptance.

To clarify, I do believe that there were less-than-subtle allusions to Ironwood and Glynda having a vaguely flirtatious history, taking their shared scenes and background dancing into account, but this, again, does not “debunk” the presence of queerness within a narrative; it could be an assumption of heterosexuality, or performative itself, or just not an exclusive interest. Besides, Ironwitch isn’t what this essay is about. I’m not trying to persuade or dissuade someone of the notion that Jimmy is gay, or straight, or something else, only that the potential ambiguity exists. What I do think is most important is that James doesn’t openly ward people away, not when those people aren’t under his command and are technically outside of his jurisdiction. He’s friendly with Glynda, tries to extend trust to Qrow, is kind to people in the aftermath of battle, and overall clings to diplomacy as his first weapon. He wants to be accepted, to be liked, and to be welcomed. This is not an outrageous want, nor is it uncommon. Unfortunately, Ironwood’s understanding of love and acceptance is entangled within the concept of control, and he associates unquestioned compliance with this Want.

Ironwood’s introduction into the series shows him being openly cordial, and very considerate, especially his interactions with Glynda and Ozpin. He’s a gentleman, he’s apologetic, and, as Glynda assures him, he’s a “good man”. She doesn’t really elaborate on what a “good man” is, exactly, but we might presume that a “good man” is a person with good intentions, who strives to do what’s right, regardless of his options.

Here’s the thing - one similarity between Ironwood and the Tin Man is that they both have the capacity to love, but they fool themselves into thinking that they don’t; before the Wizard gives him a ‘heart’, the Tin Man suggests that he is only kind and considerate to everyone in Oz because he believes he needs to overcompensate for what he lacks, and is therefore doubly aware of how he treats others. However, the Wizard knows no real magic, only tricks and illusions, and what he gives the Tin Man is essentially a placebo that enables the Tin Man to act towards and feel about others the exact same as he always had, only with the validation that what he feels is authentic. Similarly, Ironwood has always had the option to be empathetic and not fucking crazy open to collaboration, which he’s very aware of, until his own paranoia cuts into his rationality and compels him to cut himself off from all allies and alternative perspectives. He then uses his difficult position and responsibilities to justify unjustifiable actions, to rationalize irrational urges, and to gaslight and brainwash his subordinates into compliance.

The Tin Woodman knew very well he had no heart, and therefore he took great care never to be cruel or unkind to anything.

“You people with hearts,” he said, “have something to guide you, and need never do wrong; but I have no heart, and so I must be very careful. When Oz gives me a heart of course I needn’t mind so much.”

Qrow sees through this, however, and not only seems incapable of following orders himself, but disrupts the decorum that Ironwood is used to. In return, I think we see a little more of James that he’d like to reveal.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you shot!”

“If I was one of your men, I’d shoot myself!”

In case this entire ass essay doesn’t make it obvious, I do really ship Ironqrow. I’m open to other pairings, definitely, but this one in particular is just more interesting to me. It feels more revealing, more subtle. I have more questions.

In hindsight, maybe the dialogue example above ^ didn’t age well, considering where they’re at, but I do like how their professional animosity is flavored with a kind of camaraderie, and understanding. This exchange isn’t exactly playful, but they’re taking each other seriously - and, like repressed schoolboys, taking the piss at each other in a childish way, and isn’t that part of the fun of banter, when they’re so focused on each other that they forget to act their age? In a lot of ways, this is a really fun dynamic to watch. They’re opposite-kind-of-people, which I like, at least on a superficial level, and I can easily imagine them tempering each other in ways that would make them ultimately happier people.

They even look well-coordinated, with similar color schemes that lean on the opposite sides of the shared spectrum (white, grays, reds and black); I think the decorative design on Qrow’s new sleeves are supposed to be more ornate simply to communicate that Qrow is committed, and willing to be sentimental, but some viewers have suggested that it resembles the pattern on James’ weapon, Due Process (the revolver is based off of the Tin Man’s pistol, although, curiously, in The Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow was the only character to carry a pistol, and the commentaries suggest that the 2007 Tin Man miniseries was the “basis of the allusion”. Does that mean anything? I don’t know. Probably not.). Still, it raises the questions: who was in charge of designing the team’s new clothes and gear? How much input did Atlas get, and was this intentional? Personally, I think that the vine-like pattern on Qrow’s sleeves also bear a resemblance to Ozpin’s staff, a subtle reaffirmation and foreshadowing of his allegiance in contrast to Ironwood, but I digress.

They can also deliver that UST kind of banter that takes up their attention, and get up really close to each other, in each other’s faces, and just be pissed, which I think is very sexy of them, mhm. Enemies to Colleagues to Reluctant Friends to Lovers is a trope that I very much appreciate. Gaining some sort of common ground at the Battle of Beacon only to reunite, tired and battered, after the shit has already hit the fan? Slow burn kinda vibes.

That hug between them was something genuinely vulnerable and a sign of Ironwood letting his guard down because he is tired as fuck. It also was uh...kinda fruity.

Ironwood approaches closer, and Qrow scratches the back of his head, a characteristically nervous gesture that he’s made before; it’s a nervous twitch, manufactured nonchalance. He has no idea what Ironwood wants, but he does know that Ironwood wants something. James is the one to initiate the hug, and Qrow startles and even freezes up before relaxing into it. He seems suprised, but gives the bisexual eye roll of grudging fondness. This is out of character for James - Jimmy - but Qrow doesn’t think that Ironwood is a bad person. He leans into the hug, and the camera cuts out before they separate, suggesting that they probably end up standing there for a long ass time. You can also see from the side shots that it’s a close hug; their torsos are pressed up against each other, front to front, and there’s not a lot of wiggle room. James must be really goddamn depressed. It’s a long, manly, intensley heterosexual hug. Like I said, kinda fruity.

Other people have analyzed the hug shot for shot, so I won’t get too into it, but I think that it was intentionally left as a double red herring; some people thought that maybe he bugged Qrow, and after finding out that he didn’t, we were forced to conclude that this is a genuine olive branch. To find out that Ironwood is sincere but was still susceptible to corruption is that second subversion that I didn’t really expect. I hadn’t prepared myself for it, at least, and neither did Qrow. I wouldn’t go as far to say that Ironwood’s descent into fucking craziness paranoia is triggered by Qrow not ‘reciprocating’ or something, but I do think it’s interesting how the volume opens up with a signifigant interaction between Ironwood and Qrow, only for Qrow to spend the rest of the volume homosexually bonding with Clover, while Ironwood basically has no one as emotional support (again, his subordinates do not have the power or the place to be viewed as equals and the veil of formality is one of isolation). Qrow initiates nothing further, and nothing further happens.

Ironwood’s downfall, in a thematic sense, is that what he Needs is a heart, and when he gets that chance to demonstrate tolerance and empathy, James ultimately rejects his Need (a heart) and his arc reverts into one of villainy. To be specific, Ironwood is essentially a fascist dick, and that is not very sexy. (Speaking of dicks, the thought of Ironwood’s dick makes me laugh. I bet in the RWBY universe, people have made memes about that. I do not accept criticism because I am correct. Anyway,).

Dictators are charming, charismatic, and one of the pillars of their method is absorbing potential political opponents into their own administration to reduce the threat of rebellion, to appear openly tolerant to their supporters, and to further consolidate power. A good example of this would be Mean Girls, which runs on a comedic commentary of dictatorships as a political structure of power. I hate to compare James Ironwood to Regina George, but Regina’s posse includes Karen and Gretchen, two of the only girls who might take away from the authority she holds over the rest of their school, both in their wealth and attractiveness, and Cady’s interesting backstory and conventional attractiveness is the main reason Regina draws her into her own sphere - because she detects a potential threat. Much in the same way, while Ironwood likely has good intentions, his efforts to win over team RWBY and co. - including Qrow himself - is a logical way to consolidate resources. His willingness, at first, to cooperate with political opponents (ie Robyn) is because he’s not inherently evil, and he has nothing to lose. It’s when he is openly opposed and diplomatic gestures no longer hold the necessary weight that he snaps.

In one really interesting meta about Ironqrow’s archetypes (that I reread occasionally just because I really love it), @onewomancitadel posits that Ironwood is framed within the archetype of the Knight in Shining Armor, which should inform us of the moral consistency of his character. The meta was written around the beginning of volume 7, I think, and obviously we have a lot more character development and information to go off of now, but I think she makes a really interesting point about the nature of parallels and how that might help drive Ironwood as a character. I love her analysis of the visual of Ironwood stepping out of an airship wreckage, onto the street, the smoke billowing around him to reveal his cyborg prosthetics, and of the intentional framing. Once his uniform is stripped back, we see a man who is literally half-armor, which could be indicative of a lot of things. He’s emotionally guarded, he’s used as a human weapon, and he wants to be a line of defense. In her words, “The symbolism is really obviously put into perspective of his actions in trying to do the right thing: in the flesh (his true physical self) he is literally a knight in shining armour. From the ground up. Even if it's unseen or distorted by his uniform, his nature is still true.”

While Ironwood clearly has gone down a darker path in the most recent volume, I think this analysis holds true in a crucial way. “Ironwood is working with different information, and he’s doing exactly what he knows: stick to his knightly virtues, even disgraced.” Disgraced, indeed. Ironwood is holding onto his knightly values, and doing what he believes is right. If not right, he believes that it is necessary. The problem is that these values are manifested within Atlas’s sociopolitical-military culture in an inherently toxic way - his response is, at this point, neither rational nor empathetic, but it can be explained partially due to his cultural (flawed) understanding of justice, and because of the extenuating circumstances. The harsher the conditions become, the more difficult it is for anyone to project a facade that is not sincere at its core. If James is to uphold his Knightly virtues, he needs to be a protector, a leader, and a servant all at once while operating under limited intel with dwindling trust. All he has left are the few key players still in his grasp, and the control of the people he is responsible for.

To digress: generally, knights take an oath. It could be to a King, or Lord, or some noble, but Knights are supposed to operate on a code of honor, and chivalry, and to uphold these values throughout the land as an extension of whoever they have pledged themselves to. The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a really good example of the way that, back in the day, chivalry and honor was supposed to place knights on a moral high ground compared to the common people.

In the middle of a celebration in Camelot, an obligatory tradition that has since lost real value but is rehearsed because Camelot fears that failure to uphold traditions that once had meaning is disrespectful, a Green Knight interrupts the celebrations and offers a strange challenge that boils down to a fight to the death. Gawain volunteers because accepting this challenge is what is expected of him, and Arthur would be humiliated if his knights, supposedly the best in the world, would not rise to the challenge. Gawain - and to a certain extent, the rest of Arthur’s knights - are fickle, in a sense, because their adherence to this code is performative, and it allows them to delude themselves into moral superiority and lie both to the commoners and amongst themselves; their identity as knights is based on a falsehood. Gawain is offered the first blow, and after beheading the Green newcomer, is horrified to see him become reanimated and immune to mortal blows. He invites Gawain to receive his own - likely fatal - blow, and gives him a time in which to meet, before promptly leaving.

Throughout the story, Gawain is tested in a variety of ways - in his final test, he fails, and allows his greed for self preservation and the fear of death to lead him to lie to his hosts and proceed to his meeting with the Green Knight under dishonest pretenses. While he is spared at the last second and becomes a better person (after it is revealed that Morgan le Fay orchestrated the ordeal to spook Queen Guinevere) - and by extent, a truer Knight, by the end of the story, the superficial and hypocritical nature of Arthur’s court is still in question, and still unanswered.

See, the entirety of Gawain’s trials was a test, not necessarily for him, but for Arthur and his court as a whole. Morgan wanted to prove the fickle nature of Arthur’s knights. The Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in the land, and to discredit one was to discredit all. What use is tradition if the meaning is empty, what use is chivalry if it is performed for reward instead of merit, and what use is loyalty if it is blind and unearned? Returning to Oz, the Tin Woodman, or Tin Man, grew to be made of tin because his axe became enchanted by the Wicked Witch of the East to sever his own body parts instead of the lumber he tried to cut down. A nearby tinsmith replaced each amputated limb with one of metal, until his entire body became tin and his meat body had been entirely discarded. Something to note is that Nick Chopper’s, (General Ironwood’s) wounds are technically self-inflicted. Each time he swung his axe, he made the decision to continue, knowing of the end result each time. In losing his bodily functions, the Tin Man believed that he had lost his humanity and ability to love.

The tragedy of his origin story draws a pointed correlation to Ironwood’s current dilemma; his unwillingness to stop, his self-imposed isolation, playing into the hands of the witch, and finally, the decision to let go of his ability to love remain consistent throughout both stories.

Watts even refers to Ironwood as a “Tin Solider”; a reference to the Tin (Woods)Man, no doubt, but could also evoke a soldier clanking around in metal armor. Ironwood is a Knight in Shining Armor, through and through. He wants to save the world, but at the terrible cost of civilian autonomy and possibly life. The problem is that he’s pledged himself to a discriminatory and hypocritical system, and his code is something that can easily be misconstrued by fear ( @disregardcanon ), much as Gawain’s own values. The Tin Man is, after all, still a man, and if we’ve learned anything from real fairytales, it is that men are fallible, whether or not they are made of metal.

Ironwood, Alone

he’s a lonely bitch

I know I f- up, I'm just a loser

Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter

While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'

'Bout where I should've been

I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah

— Benee, Supalonely (2019)

You do get the sense that Ironwood is riddled with self-loathing conflicting with pride, with self-doubt clashing with competence, and that he is the kind of person who longs for things without verbalizing. Maybe his dad never paid enough attention to him as a kid. Maybe he suffered some terrible physical and emotional trauma, which might as well be assumed, given the extensive nature of his cybernetic limbs. Maybe (probably) he’d be more well-adjusted and would’ve made better decisions if the people around him trusted him and were a little more open. To be fair, though, he is the one at the wheel, and he is making the calls; no one else is to blame for his mistakes, and to pretend otherwise is to deny him accountability. I think we do enough of that in everyday life, in excusing powerful men of their responsibilities. To his credit, I do think he wants to help people. I think James also wants to project the personality of a leader who is stoic, controlled, and measured. He is charming when he wants to be, sympathetic when it suits him, and influential in just the right areas. He is not a sociopath, but he is a politician, and in a lot of ways, those are the same thing. We see in his brief flashes of temper, often prompted by Qrow, or most notably by Oscar, that this is not a calm, stable person. This is someone is on the verge of exploding, who is so fucking angry that he is not in control that it’s killing him, and so he is going to lash out and kill the things that are not within his grip. If the people beneath him will not reciprocate the heart that he offers, then he has no real use of it. James Ironwood does not begin this story as a bad person. This is a tragedy, in however many parts it takes.

I read, in one very smart and very put-together analysis that I cannot find and properly credit at the moment, that part of Ironwood’s (many) failures can be seen in Winter, and how, like Ozpin, he has appointed a woman as his talented, no-nonsense, second chain in command at his right hand. In this way, Winter is an intentional parallel to Glynda, who is, without question, a bad bitch. In theory, surrounding yourself with strong individuals is a demonstration of self restraint, in implementing your own checks and balances. James wants to project that he is powerful, yes, but he is reasonable.

I take this to mean that, to some degree, even if it’s unintentional or subconscious, Winter serves to boost Ironwood’s ego.

The issue with this is that within the inherently hierarchical structure of the military, Winter cannot question, undermine, or challenge Ironwood in a way that is particularly meaningful and their relationship is one of commander and subordinate before colleagues or equals (link to a fantastic post about Winter’s role as the Good, Conscientious Soldier by @fishyfod). Whereas Glynda is free to argue with, converse, and be as combative as she needs to be with Ozpin (although their power dynamic is arguably one of commander and subordinate albeit informally), Winter cannot temper Ironwood effectively, and through the illusion of equality, Ironwood is further isolated.

His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

The Tin Man needs oil to lubricate his joints; without it, he cannot move, and he is rendered helpless and inanimate. When Dorothy and the group find him, he is entirely isolated with no one in sight, and he has been there for such a long time that he has begun to rust. Similarly, Ironwood needs valued voices of dissent to keep him in check. His colleagues were able to serve that purpose in the beginning, and out of them, Qrow is the best example of someone who doesn't take his shit, openly questions him, and looks down on the performative decorum of the military culture that Ironwood is surrounded by. What Ironwood needs is to be flexible and adaptable; his Semblance, Mettle (heh, metal, very nice pun, RoosterTeeth), is a double edged sword in that it gives him supernatural focus and willpower - enough, perhaps, to flay/chop off your own limbs - but it blindsides him, and is only further prolonging his pain.

There is a lot of sympathy to Ironwood’s character, as much as I’ve ragged on him for being an authoritarian, kind of a dick, and bad with kids. There are moments, such as the previously mentioned dinner party, where he shows his colors a bit, and when he assures the students at the Vytal Festival that there’s no shame in leaving before the battle begins, and in giving Yang a prosthetic arm before her father even has to ask. As far as Generals go, it seems that he’s seen soldiers come and go and understands, at least in his best moments, that not everyone is the same, and not everyone has power of unflinching determination to rely on. Ironwood performs his best when he tempers himself because he understands himself, and others. It’s when he fails to self-reflect that his hypocrisy shows through. Glynda points it out, too, as does Qrow; Ironwood advocates for trust but often fails to give it himself, going behind Ozpin’s back, being absolutely shit at field communication, and now the whole fascist, borderline-genocidal keruffle he’s gotten himself into.

I think that Ironwood reaching out to Qrow was his ethical last stand, his last chance and conscious effort to choose the right path. Qrow is unequivocally an equal, not like how Ozpin is the Big Boss, the authority that James becomes disillusioned with and tries to overthrow. He wants someone to trust, desperately so, and Qrow wants that too, but narrative subversion has hands. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man have no brain and heart respectively, and are in need of them. As it turns out, Qrow is actually a pragmatic guy with solid principles angled against authoritarianism, and Ironwood is a dick who would rather enforce martial law than to empathize and tame his military-shaped boner for one second.

I might conclude that someone like Qrow might be best for Ironwood, but that does not mean that someone like Ironwood would be the best for Qrow. Qrow has a brain after all, but Ironwood does not choose his heart when it matters, case in point. Even the intro of the current season features Salem and Ironwood on a chessboard; his white pieces are disappearing, dissolving into dust, as hers transform into Grimm. Ironwood is isolating himself by depleting himself of allies. As this post by @hadesisqueer points out, Ironwood isn’t even positioned as King, the supposed commander, but the Queen, the most versatile player on the board that is so far underused, since he hasn’t moved from his spot. Ironwood’s refusal to unify against Salem is his failure to strategically utilize the best resources that were available to him; soon, the pieces will be swallowed by the dark.

James is guilty of something that a lot of us are guilty of: doing a Bad Thing for what we have convinced ourselves is a Good Reason, when in reality, it is actually a lot of Very Bad Reasons. James Ironwood is a Knight archetype, through and through, and he is charging forward to do the right thing. He is afraid, he is lying to himself, and he will never surrender.

“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.”

“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.

The lesson of James Ironwood is a lesson of failure, and of the way that we succumb to fear, because that is Salem’s agenda, really, in the end: fear. It’s the negative emotions, fear being first and foremost, that draw in and empower the Grimm, and it’s fear and uncertainty that causes chaos. It is when Dorothy’s friends give into their fear that they are truly defeated. FDR’s assertion that “The only thing to fear is fear itself” holds true here; it’s not so much that these characters are afraid of losing their lives, their loved ones, and of the dark, but that they do not have the love or the resources to be brave for themselves or for others.

Qrow as a character is introduced as one who is already defeated, in a sense. Half of his team is gone, dead or estranged, he’s forced into the shadows of espionage to protect a world he knows is darker than it should be, and he’s fighting a losing battle with alcoholism. As charismatic as he’s written, he’s referred to as a “dusty old crow”, a hunter of renowned skill but past the prime of his life.

Dorothy’s three titular companions are defined by what they lack; in the same vein of the Disney I Want song (a main character’s main monologue song in which their wants and desires that motivate them throughout the rest of the film is laid out in song; ie Part of Your World, Reflections, How Far I’ll Go), the Lion, Tin Man, and the Scarecrow want bravery, a heart, and a brain respectively. RWBY relies on flipping the script of its characters based on what the audience might expect from the source material; Ruby is not just a helpless little girl - her introduction is a badass with a scythe. The Scarecrow is a chronic alchoholic. Cinderella is a victim of abuse, and is also a villain who wants to set the world aflame. Subversion, subversion, subversion.

There are obviously parallels between the characters in RWBY and in their own fairytales to keep them in character, and part of the fun is spotting those clues and occasionally connecting the dots to anticipate the direction of the narrative and certain connections between characters and the significance of their arcs. While I’m not aware of Dorothy Gale’s RWBY counterpart, if she has already been established or is yet to be introduced, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that Ruby has adopted a Dorothy-eque persona and can act as a surrogate in a way. She begins as a sweet, naive child eager to join a world of color and excitement, who initially believes that she has “normal knees” and is thrust into a political scheme full of powerful and older players. She even has a small dog as a companion, Toto Zwei, who seems like an odd addition, since he’s usually sidelined and basically forgotten about except in a few spare moments, unless he’s there to draw further comparisons to Dorothy. She may not be from Kansas, but she is first helped by Glynda (the Good Witch), and later expects assistance from Ozpin, Qrow, and the later Ozian counterparts. I find it a peculiar detail that for Ruby to be Little Red Riding Hood alone, she is surrounded specifically by Dorothy’s companions. This, of course, only increases the importance of the relevance of the Oz series in particular and the characters that are borrowed.

In the case of Ozpin’s inner circle, Dorothy’s closest comrades (sans Toto) differ in crucial ways to their source material. (After finishing this essay, I found a much better, condensed explanation by @neopoliitan )

Disillusioned by the Ozpin, the Wizard (who has been projecting an illusion of a failsafe) and overwhelmed by the rise of the Wicked Witch of the West, Lionhart (the Lion), gives into his cowardice and ultimately forgoes the arc and redemption of his character from the source material; as such, he is by all definitions, a failure and a premonition, as Ironwood eventually follows. If RWBY is a dark take on classic fairytales, then it is only fitting that these characters are charred husks of their fairytale selves - these are people, and some people are selfish, scared, and cowardly, and they do not overcome these traits.

This is all opinion based, pure speculation. I have no idea what will happen in the next episode, and whatever goes down will be...shit will hit the fan. I’m under no delusions that Ironqrow is going to be canon in a healthy, tender, endgame sense. They’re both kind of losing their minds, and Ironwood is shitting absolute bricks. No, they’re going to try to kill each other, and I personally cannot wait for Qrow to cleave this man in two. (Not sexually, just, literally. Like, with a scythe.)

On that note, I think that the RWBY writers are good at callbacks, at drawing attention to their own connections, and if Ironwood and Qrow’s inevitable confrontation is scheduled, then it will include visual callbacks to Qrow saving James at Beacon, maybe shot for shot. Their visuals have only gotten better as time goes on, and I imagine Ironwood’s eyes widening as Qrow leaps through the air, scythe drawn, in recal of a moment so long ago when they weren’t on the same page, but they were at least on the same side. When Qrow brings the blade down, there will be no enemy behind him. Only Jimmy James. The difference between the two of them will be that Qrow isn’t fighting out of fear, but out of love, for what happened to Clover, and to what could happen to his girls.

Qrow’s reliance on alcohol, as well as his (mostly) feigned nonchalance is meant to fit with the motif that the Scarecrow has no brain, and, had he a mind to desire anything, would desire it most of all. His role is, also, notably, gathering intelligence for Ozpin (his character is also based on Munnin from Norse mythology). There is so much about Qrow that is an act and so much that is not, and I think that this act is born both from this motif and from his own cynicism, and the alcohol contributes to this act. However, he eventually gets sober after Ruby expresses legitimate frustration, and he understands that he’s putting their lives at risk. While one could say that he gave up drinking for the kids, I would argue that the kids - Ruby in particular - made him want to give up drinking for himself, to better himself.

While Lionhart and Ironwood betray the people depending on them, Qrow’s love for his nieces (and for the kids) allows him to deviate from this pattern. The answer to fear is perhaps not merely bravery - Qrow’s triumph is love.

Ironwood knows triumph in the context of a military state, but he’s backed himself into a corner. Soon he will find himself alone and friendless. Hopefully, his last stand will not be in vain.

#ironqrow #james ironwood #qrow branwen #rwby #rwby8 spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby meta #ok this is all just based on my opinion ok #like i ship ironqrow but ironwood is a dicktator if u know what i mean #he is probably gonna die but anyway #ironqrow meta #winter schnee #snowbird #also includes links and credit to other posts and metas #I just had to get this off of my chest ok

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 11, 2021: Tootsie (1982) (Recap)

To be clear, I like Dustin Hoffman.

I can’t exactly claim that I’ve seen him in a lot of his most iconic roles, but I’m planning on fixing that this year for sure! On my to-watch list this year and beyond is Midnight Cowboy, Kramer vs. Kramer, Stranger Than Fiction, and Marathon Man at the very least.

But that’s not to say I haven’t seen him in other iconic roles of his, of course. Fun fact: I actually tried to do this project in 2019, and it...didn’t work. But, one of the films I watched that year was one of Hoffman’s most iconic dramatic films: Rain Man.

Oh, and by the way, that movie is not about an autistic man. Or, rather, it’s not based on a man diagnosed with one of the autism spectrum disorders. Instead, he actually most likely had a genetic disorder called FG syndrome, unrelated to the spectrum disorders. Ironic, since Hoffman’s character was the pop-cultural depiction of autism that people STILL refer to quite often, and quite inaccurately. But, obviously, that’s not Hoffman’s fault, and he was good in the movie, to be fair.

I grew up with him in Hook, as the pirate captain himself (I still do his laugh sometimes, it’s weird, I know). He had an underappreciated starring role in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure films, Outbreak (I fucking love that movie, and I’m not ashamed to admit that). He was in Finding Neverland, but I just forgot about that until I looked up his filmography to write this intro. And, of course...Master Shifu.

So, yeah, I actually DO like Dustin Hoffman, despite the fact that his role in The Graduate wasn’t stellar for me. Just seemed kinda miscast, and a little too awkward to be even slightly sympathetic. Then again, he wasn’t really meant to be, so maybe Hoffman was the perfect choice. Even then, he still acted well in it.

And anyway, I watched that movie for two major reasons. One, it was on my list of films to see, and TWO: it was a lead-up to the ACTUAL Hoffman film I wanted to watch this month: Tootsie. After all, I just watched rom-com Some Like It Hot, and if you’ve looked at me schedule, you know what film is coming next. So, this one fits in my planned schedule. Why? Well...there’s a theme.

Yup. I actually picked these movies for a reason. See, here’s the thing: this is a repeated trope in comedies, and I’ve always wondered whether or not it’s...problematic. But, much to my surprise with Some Like It Hot, they actually used the situation to comment on the female experience. I mean, not necessarily really well, but they tried at the very least. And for a film from 1959, that ain’t bad!

Which isn’t to say that it’s entirely clean, of course, but it was far better than I’d expected. So, if 1959 did that OK, how did 1982 do? Let’s find out, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) is an acting coach, as well as being an actor himself. However, he’s not the most successful actor, as he keeps attempting to audition for pieces, only to get refused for nebulous reasons, or refuses them when he disagrees with the director. He might want to take his own advice, for the record.

In the meantime, he works in a restaurant with Jeff Slater (Bill Murray), a playwright and roommate. That night, the night of his birthday, he spends time with an actress friend, Sandy Lester (Teri Garr), and also hits on the majority of women there that night.

As the party concludes, and various people go home, Sandy is abandoned by her date, and Michael offers to take her home. She breaks down crying, and Michael guesses that she’s upset about an upcoming audition. He gives her some coaching advice, and manages to get her to produce the correct emotion for the role. Afraid that she’ll lose it without him, he agrees to accompany her to the audition and enrage her. It’s very funny.

That morning, however, she IMMEDIATELY gets kicked out of the audition, as she wasn’t right for the part. However, when he goes to help her by speaking with an actor on the show, he finds out that the actor is off the show, and is instead getting a part that MICHAEL was supposed to get. Now enraged himself, he goes to speak with his agent, George Fields (Sydney Pollack), and the two have a tense conversation. It’s revealed that because of his difficult nature, he has a terrible reputation in acting circles, and literally nobody will hire him.

Challenge accepted.

Now dressed up as a woman named “Dorothy Michaels”, he goes back to the audition that passed on Sandy. Like her, he’s also immediately rejected by the director, Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman), who insists that she’s too “gentile” for the part of a hospital administrator. This causes “Dorothy” to go off, in a righteous monologue that accuses Ron for conflating power with masculinity. Which...yeah, he totally is, and DAMN, it’s a good tell-off!

Producer Rita Marshall (Doris Belack) agrees, and invites “Dorothy” to read for the part. He comes in to read, and in the process meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), to whom he’s IMMEDIATELY attracted. He brushes that off, and the audition commences. From there, he gets the part, which is a regular part on a soap opera called Southwest General.

Now fully invested in the dumbest idea anybody’s ever had, “Dorothy” goes to her agent and tells him the ridiculous news, and asks for $1000 to go shopping for more clothing. Back at their apartment, Michael speaks to Jeff about the whole situation. He notes that he’s doing this to get the money for his play in Syracuse, which requires $8000 to produce.

Sandy is to be cast in this play, which is an issue, as they now need to explain where the money came from, as it’s technically from the part that SHE was refused for, which would hurt her feelings. He lies and says that the money’s from a deceased relative. While in her place, and while she’s in the shower, he decides to try on some of her clothes to get ideas for Dorothy. But when she walks in on him, he lies AGAIN and says that he’s sexually attracted to her. And she reciprocates IMMEDIATELY, which leads to an unintended relationship.

On the set, “Dorothy” finds out that he’ll be kissing John Van Horn (George Gaynes), an older actor who’s clearly a bit past his prime, and makes it a point to kiss every actress on the set when they start on the show. Gross. Michael agrees, and when the scene comes, he improvises and has his character (Emily) hit the doctor instead.

While the director (who’s a DICK, by the way) notes the improvisation, he approves of it, while also discouraging any similar actions in the future, and calling her “toots”. “Dorothy” takes it, rather than talks back. John compliments her on the improvisation, and then kisses “Dorothy” anyway, much to Michael’s shock!

We also find out that Julie, who plays a nurse on the show, is dating director Ron. Later on, though, Michael observes him making out with another actress on stage. Shortly after this, Julie invites “Dorothy” to dinner at her place, which is eagerly accepted. At dinner, we find out that Julie has a young daughter and that her relationship with Ron is...not stellar.

They have a discussion about being a woman in the ‘80s, and the complexities inherent in that concept, which is an interesting theme of this movie! Gotta say, this is a more socially-conscious version of Some Like It Hot, and I really like that! But the conversation is cut short when Michael realizes that he’d promised dinner with Sandy that night, and leaves in a hurry.

Dinner with Sandy is awkward, as Sandy is...Sandy is a lot, to be honest. But, she tells Michael that the woman hired in her stead on the soap opera (who is, of course, Michael himself), is written as a wimp, rather than tough as intended, and that she should change that. Michael agrees, and actively goes against the script to make the character of Emily far tougher. and essentially a feminist.

While this causes some grief to Ron and Rita at first, Dorothy Michaels soon becomes a massively successful and popular actress on the show, and her popularity absolutely explodes. Michael’s wrapped up in the success of Dorothy Michaels, and thinks that she might be able to branch outside of the role of the soap opera. Which is difficult, as his agent points out, because of the simple fact that Michael is...well, Michael.

At a party that his agent invites him to, Michael meets Julie AS MICHAEL. He uses a line on her that she’d mentioned before to Dorothy, only to be met with a drink to the face. Which is fair, as the line was about being honest about wanting to have sex with her, so I get it.

On the set soon afterwards, we see that the show is becoming more progressive, allowing Julie’s nurse character to stand up to John’s chief doctor character. After the scene is done, the director once again calls Dorothy “toots” instead of her real name, and Dorothy absolutely snaps back at him, and rightfully so! In response, Julie goes and invites Dorothy to a weekend in the country, on her father’s farm. Despite some rebuke from Jeff for lying to Sandy AND Julie, Michael as “Dorothy” goes on the trip.

This, by the way, is an excellent time to mention that this film is exuding some real strong, uh, vibes. You know...alphabet mafia vibes. Like, it’s definitely there, heavily leaning towards Julie. Obviously, “Dorothy” is actually the heterosexual Michael, but that’s not helping, just saying. And there’s literally (and absolutely obviously) nothing wrong with that, but it’s so strong at this point that it’s hard to ignore.

On the farm, “Dorothy” meets Les Nichols (Charles Durning), Julie’s lonely and genuinely nice father, if a bit old-fashioned in his views on gender politics. He’s also got the hots for “Dorothy”, which is funny-but-awkward as shit. That night, Julie tells “Dorothy” some very personal things about her dreams as a child, which is a genuinely very sweet scene. And can I just say, that this movie is both funny and quite heartfelt? I love it! Also, again, the vibes...THE VIBES.

Meanwhile, the popularity of “Dorothy” continues to skyrocket, to the frustration of director Ron, but to the delight of producer Rita, who decides to extend her contract with the soap opera by a full year! Oh FUCK! Realizing what the hell he’s gotten himself into, Michael calls his agent, who tells him that it was in his contract, meaning he’s basically fucked.

Jeff also tries to help hi, out of it, to no avail. Just then, though, they get a call from Julie, looking for “Dorothy”. She’s been having her doubts about her relationship with Ron, and she realizes that she’s been settling for Ron and other men like him. And Dorothy’s inspired her to be a better person, and to be honest with others and with herself. Fuckin’ OOF.

Just then, Ron arrives, allowing them some alone time, as Julie is getting ready for their night out. In the process, “Dorothy” reveals that she knows about his indiscretions with other women. Ron proceeds to use the EXACT SAME EXCUSE that Michael used to excuse his lies to Sandy, and it’s well-executed! Good job, writers, that’s pretty awesome.

“Dorothy” promises to watch Julie’s daughter for the night, which proves a bit of an issue, but he works it out. Julie returns later on, having broken up with Ron. Another heart-to-heart ensues, but this one is concluded with a revelation that Julie is lonely, despite the fact that she appreciates Dorothy’s influence and friendship. And then, "Dorothy” tries to kiss Julie. OH

Yeah, Julie’s not exactly chuffed about this as, despite a LOT of “Sappho and her friends” vibes, she doesn’t actually swing that way. “Dorothy” tries to explain, but this is interrupted by a call from Julie’s dad! He asks her out on a date that night, and “Dorothy” accepts. On said date, he FUCKIN’ PROPOSES TO HER! She promises to think about it, and takes the fuck OFF.

And to continue the parade of “Fuck me, I guess” that marching down Michael Street, who should show up at the apartment but John, from the show! Having followed her home the previous night (YIKES BUDDY), he literally serenades her outside of the apartment window, before “Dorothy” lets him in. It’s there that he reveals he’s MADLY in lust with her, and it’s HILARIOUSLY awkward. Thankfully, just as John is forcing himself on her, Jeff walks in on them, interrupting John’s actions, and causing him to leave in shame.

AND FUCKING THEN, after all of that, Sandy arrives at the apartment to find out why Michael’s not returned her phone calls. And Sandy’s a lot, sure, but all of her concerns are completely valid and legitimate. And despite Michael’s impressive ability to lie, he tells her the truth: he’s in love with another woman. Which she absolutely freaks the fuck out about, but whatever, not like Michael doesn’t deserve that.

Having had it with all the drama around Dorothy’s life, he goes to his agent and hilariously recounts to him the whole series of events that’s taken place. Still struggling to find a way to get out of the situation, he goes to work the next day, for an awkward conversation with Julie. She thanks Dorothy for inspiring her to be true to herself, which cuts DEEP, but still says that they shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

Producer Rita arrives with news: the erasure of a reel of footage has forced them to shoot a scene live. Said scene involves a party being thrown for Dorothy’s characters, putting her in the starring role. And THAT is when Michael takes his chance. Dorothy improvises a monologue about Emily’s REAL past, as a twin who tragically died before realizing her dream to become a hospital administrator. Ripping off his disguise, Michael reveals himself as Emily’s twin brother, Edward!

Everyone on stage and at home is SHOCKED, especially Les, John, Sandy, and of course, Julie. And once the cameras stop rolling, Julie now understands everything. She walks right up to Michael...AND PUNCHES HIM IN THE DICK

John asks if Jeff knows, and I break in half laughing.

Months pass. Michael was able to fund Jeff’s play in Syracuse, and goes to meet Les, who lives in the area. The two make amends after an understandably awkward reunion, and they begin the journey to become friends after everything. This prompts Michael to return to the city and speak with Julie, who is...less than happy to see him. Which, yeah, entirely fair.

But, again overcoming the initial awkwardness, Julie is able to admit that she misses her friend Dorothy. And Michael reciprocates, speaking for Dorothy, who is...well, him. He says the following great line:

I was a better man with you as a woman than I ever was with a woman as a man.

And from there...the two decide to rekindle a friendship, with Julie asking to borrow one of Michael’s dresses. And y’know...I’m rooting for those crazy kids.

That’s Tootsie! And, uh...I love it! I LOVE it. I actually think this is a great film, and one of the best I’ve seen this month. But I’ll elaborate...in the Review! See you there!

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switchseb · 3 years

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If I Lay Here | Seblaine

Who: Sebastian Smythe & Blaine Anderson @blaineandersonsub

When: Thursday 2.11.21

Where: Blaine’s Apartment

What: Scene - pet play. Cuteness ensues.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine took a deep breath as he finished rinsing the remainder of the hair gel out in the sink, then slowly stood at looked at himself in the mirror. His gaze trailed over the dampened curls that stuck to his forehead, and also the ones that sprung up literally everywhere else. He had such a love hate relationship with his hair, which just meant that some days he liked it, and other days he hated it. It tangled, it didn't cooperate, and God forbid he ever purchase a hairbrush again. Nodding once, he put a stop to the invasive thoughts, instead turning his attention to the scene he was about to have with Sebastian. He'd rediscovered his love for puppy play with Max, and as much fun as he'd had in his time with her, the one thing missing from that equation was a man. Someone he could actually delve into it with. Granted, this one was straight, but it was a step in the right direction. He grabbed a towel and began carefully scrunching his curls to dry them just as there was a knock on the front door. Stepping out of the bathroom, he moved to open it, grinning up at Sebastian as he set the towel aside somewhere and stepped aside to let him in. "Hey, Sir. I made coffee, in case you needed it. Or, if you're hungry, I could make something for you there too before we... uh, get started."

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian had no idea what made Blaine so much different than the other men he was talking to. He chalked it off to the way they met and how engrained he was in the school culture. Blaine just knew too many people that Sebastian knew and it was unnerving. Not to mention he was actually taking the time to get to know him instead of just fucking him and using him for sex like he was with the other men in his life currently. Before he knew it, he was already in too deep and that meant one thing. Blaine was dangerous so the only thing they could be was friends. Sebastian needed to be careful and tread carefully around him. Though even with all of that precaution, he was still caught off guard when the door opened and he was met with possibly the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Sebastian's lips broke out into a giant smile as he surveyed the man in front of him. "You weren't kidding about the hair." He stepped inside and placed his hands into his pocket as he followed Blaine further inside. "I think the coffee will be fine for now. Are you nervous about today?" He asked, only because that's what he was feeling too.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's cheeks reddened when he noticed Sebastian seemingly taking him in in his naturally curly state, his grip on the doorknob tightening just slightly as he took a deep breath through his nose. Maybe letting the curls out was a bad idea? He couldn't tell if that was his anxiety or common sense talking, so he forced himself to drop it. When the other spoke, he let out a breathy chuckle and closed the door behind him. "I... yeah. It's a little on the... unmanageable side today. Sorry. I need to do another hair mask, I think. I sometimes wish I could just... permanently straighten it," He smiled, moving to get two mugs down on the cabinet once he'd reached the kitchen, then started to pour the French pressed coffee he made into each one. "I'm... actually not nervous about the scene itself at all. I think it's going to be a ton of fun, Sir, and I can't wait to get into it. Are you?" He asked, turning and extending one of the mugs out to the other man as he took a few swallows from his own.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian had no self control and leaned up to play a bit with the edges of Blaine's hair. He was intrigued. Smitten even. When Blaine pulled back and offered his stammered response, Sebastian realized his mistake. "No, I don't think you should straighten it. I like it. I like it more that not a lot of people get to see you like this." There was something insinuated there, but Sebastian would leave it at just that and let Blaine interpret it how he saw fit. Leaning against the counter, Sebastian took a sip from his own cup and sighed contently at the taste. "You always make the best coffee," he commented but stopped mid sentence when Blaine's words registered. "I'm also looking forward to it. Though I have to ask, if you're not nervous about that, what are you nervous about then?"

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine mulled those words over, and he couldn't help the wide smile that was fighting it's way to his face as he looked down at the mug he was now holding in both hands. He likes it more, knowing not many others have seen it like this? I... wow. "Well, it's going to stay that way. And, I wouldn't mind you seeing it more often like this, maybe. You haven't made jokes about how my sexuality pertains to my curly hair yet, so that actually puts you ahead of most heterosexual New Yorker men. So, congratulations I guess," He teased with a half shrug, physically feeling his shoulders relax and his posture soften as he got more comfortable. You make me nervous, in a good way. In a scary way. In an unobtainable way. "I was nervous you wouldn't like my hair," He explained, moving his gaze back up to meet Sebastian's with a small smile. "I'm thinking something along the lines of Husky today. I'm feeling pretty energetic." He winked.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian was taken back by the comment and chuckled. "I can't imagine what comments would be said by my counterparts, but I assure you I'm not like most heterosexual men you've ran into in New York." Perhaps that was giving himself away too much but he didn't mind it. He stuck to his guns and he continued to be strong when he was with Blaine so that was a win in someone's books. "Well you can rest easy because that's not the case at all." Sebastian reached up to twirl a strand of hair around a finger, just to punctuate his statement. "A husky, hm?" Sebastian noted. He took another small sip then tipped his head towards the living room. "Ready to show me those husky ears?"

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine laughed softly and grinned up at Sebastian, his cheeks heating up a little. "Oh, just... like I'm about as straight as my hair, things like that. I'm out and proud, it just got annoying after a while. Not so much hurtful," He explained, winking over at Sebastian as he took another sip from his mug. "I can already tell you're different than most straight men though. It's nice, you're nice," He said, leaning up into the touch on his hair as his eyes fluttered some. Maybe bad timing, but his hair was a weakness for him, and just imagining what Sebastian's fingers would feel like threading through his hair in a completely difference sense had him clearing his throat softly and taking the opportunity to get away from the feelings he definitely should not be feeling. "Husky it is, right this way, Sir." He winked, then set his mug down on the counter. He made his way over to the bed, got down on his knees and pulled a black case out from under it. He quickly put in the combination before lifting the top to expose several tails, ears, hoods, toys, and lots of other accessories like leashes and temporary collars. "I also have a cage, but that's in storage right now for obvious reasons," He explained, moving to pull the husky ears and tail from the pile. "These. What do you think?" He grinned. "The tail is softer, and probably one of my favorites."

Sebastian Smythe

"That's the best they could do?" Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow. "They could have at least come up with something more original." As Blaine went on, Sebastian didn't know how to respond to the compliment. It wasn't one he got often and there was too much to unpack to really delve into it. "I'm not as nice as you think, sweetheart." He'd been saving the nickname for their time on Saturday, but it just slipped out. Not that he was going to bring any attention to it. Sebastian set his mug down as well and followed Blaine into his bedroom. He took it upon himself to take a seat on the edge of the bed while the other man pulled the box out. "Oh, you've got quite the collection there." Sebastian took the ears from Blaine's hand and studied it. "I suppose that's exactly what I was picturing when you said husky." He held it out with both hands. "Go on, put it on. And the tail. Show me your process when getting into the headspace."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's cheeks flushed slightly as he carefully took the ears back, sliding the headband down into his curls before quickly shifting them to conceal it as much as possible. "You're... nice to me. So even if you're not as nice to other people, that doesn't really change my opinion of you. And, for the record, you calling me a 'sweetheart' sounds even better in person than I thought it would." Once that was completed, he hummed softly and picked the tail up. "This part is a little tricky to do by myself, otherwise it just ends up off-center. Do you mind just clipping it to the back of my pants?" He asked, extending the tail out to the other man with a small smile as he turned to the side to make it easier for him to reach and do. "Usually it doesn't take long once I get my donut out," He grinned, motioning to a stuffed pink donut that had fake sprinkles stitched on.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian wanted to tell Blaine that there was a reason he was so nice to him. But this wasn't the time or the place, not that there ever would be. So he dismissed that comment as well as the comment about his newly acquired pet name for the other man. Only because of the way his chest constricted when he heard those words. He was beyond distracted and only refocused when brown eyes looked up at him. Sebastian took the tail without even realizing what Blaine was asking, at least not until he turned to his side. "Oh, yes." This was far too intimate than it was supposed to be. Sebastian's eyes diverted several times to the way Blaine's ass look while he was on his hands and knees like that. His throat went dry but he focused on the task, only letting out a breath once he was sitting straight up again. "Alright. Get your donut."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine was too preoccupied with thinking about how he was going to proceed once the tail was put on to notice anything about the way Sebastian was looking at him. However, he was pulled from his thoughts when Sebastian spoke, and he glanced back at his tail before moving to pull the donut from the case, playing with one of the edges for a moment. "I also follow commands too. Because I forgot to mention that before," He quickly informed before sinking his teeth into it. He crawled over and nudged the other side of the donut against Sebastian's hand, already starting to feel the mental shift into the puppy headspace. "Tug?" He murmured around the fabric, moving his gaze up to look at the Switch with wide, excited eyes as he dipped his head down just enough to express playfulness.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian didn't really know what to expect once the scene got started. He was just going to follow Blaine's lead, but as the scene went on Sebastian realized that this was exactly what he should have expected. The corner of his mouth quirked upward as Blaine played with the donut. He didn't even consider giving commands, but then he realized that he should have expected that too. Sebastian couldn't remember the last time he saw the physical shift in someone's eyes as they fell into a different headspace, but with Blaine it was obvious. His eyes were big and hopeful and Sebastian couldn't help but comply. He grabbed the other end of the toy but didn't really tug. He just held it tightly and waited to see what Blaine would do with it.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine got visibly excited when Sebastian grabbed onto the other end of the donut, and he couldn't help but smile around it as he started pulling on it eagerly. It wasn't necessarily hard enough to pull it out of the other man's hand, just enough to create some tension to get the tug of war effect he was looking for. That went on for several minutes, with Blaine rolling around, pulling on the donut, and even shaking it vigorously from side to side while it was still grasped in the Switch's hand. After a few moments, he paused and dropped the donut before shuffling closer and sitting at Sebastian's feet with his hands pressed into the floor, and he leaned forward until his chin rested on the other man's lap, a soft whimper sounding through pursed lips.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian didn’t really make any other moves while Blaine pulled and tugged at the donut. His eyes were transfixed, impressed by how easy it was for Blaine to fully commit to his role, even rolling around on the floor as he did so. When Blaine dropped the toy, Sebastian did as well before wiping his hand on his pants and pressing both palms into the mattress. When Blaine sat at his feet, he almost pushed him back, but he didn’t. And when he rested his chin on his lap, he should have pushed him back, but again he didn’t. His mouth went dry and his body stiffened. Fuck did Blaine look good on his knees like that and it felt way to good to feel the weight of his head in his lap. “Is this what you want?” Sebastian asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's eyes fluttered a little at the fingers that moved through his hair, the whimpering quieting to a halt as he looked up to watch Sebastian closely. He hadn't been this close to another guy in way too long, and even from down here, the Switch was insanely handsome, but Blaine quickly pushed that thought from his head. He couldn't think like that, he couldn't let himself think like that. This guy is straight, and the last thing he wanted to be was that predatory gay. Sebastian owed him nothing, and he couldn't let himself jeopardize a potential friendship with someone he got along with this well. He simply nodded in response, and stayed there for a few moments before pulling back and crawling over to the case to start picking through the other toys. He came across a squeaky toy and chewed on it a few times, letting out a soft giggle at the noise it made. Gripping the toy between his teeth, he moved to crawl up onto the bed and dropped the toy onto the mattress, then started pressing both hands into it to start making it make even more noise.

Sebastian Smythe

There were a few seconds there where Sebastian got completely lost in the moment. His hair was soft and the stroking movements calmed him like nothing else. It was quiet, very quiet, but Sebastian was content with that. Blue eyes flicked back and forth between Blaine's face and his hair, letting his mind drift to places it shouldn't be. It was only when Blaine pulled back that he snapped out of it. Blaine move towards his case of toys and jumped onto the bed. And Sebastian made himself more comfortable, kicking off his shoes and moving to sit back against the headboard. He crossed his feet together and settled his hands in his lap as he watched Blaine play with his toy. He couldn't remember the last time he was content with with just watching someone else in their element, but he was entranced. Sebastian let that go for a little while before finally giving into the urge he had the entire time he watched Blaine play. "Okay, c'mere." He patted his lap and invited Blaine to come lay on it and snuggle with him. It was toeing the line, but Sebastian had the guise of him playing a puppy, and that was good enough for him.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine paused with the toy when Sebastian spoke, tilting his head to the side as he watched the other man patting his lap. He could feel his stomach filling with butterflies, which caused him to bite his lips to keep from smiling because God knows he didn't need to make Sebastian feel like this was too intimate, even if it very much was. He wasn't complaining though. The more he talked to Sebastian, the more he enjoyed being around him. The more he wanted to be around him. For now though, he pushed that thought aside, deciding to let himself actually enjoy being close to another man, even if it was probably going to be very short lived. He slowly moved closer and moved to lay down on his side with his head on Sebastian's lap, letting out a soft whimper as he leaned up to nuzzle the other man's hand. "Pet?"

Sebastian Smythe

There was a swelling in Sebastian’s chest when Blaine made contact. And there was a moment where he didn’t quite know where to put his hands. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t touched a man recently, it’s that he hadn’t touched a man this way. Blaine laying with his head in Sebastian’s lap was far more intimate than anything he’d done with anyone else at the academy. Eventually, he settled on placing one hand on Blaine’s leg and the other on top of his head, just because it was the most comfortable. At his request, Sebastian simply nodded and slipped his fingers through Blaine’s curls. It was only then that he let out the breath he’d been holding since Blaine’s head collided with his lap.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's eyes flickered down to the hand resting on his leg, which slightly confused him, but he decided not to make a big deal about it. It was still low enough to be appropriate anyway, and it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the intimacy behind it all. Letting out a soft breath through his nose, he leaned further up into the hand that was moving over his hair. He loved his curls getting played with in any capacity, but especially like this. When fingers were moving through it, and he got this tingly feeling at the base of his neck as a result. It wasn't long before he felt his eyes getting heavy, and he let out a soft whine and turned his head, looking up at the other man with a content smile.

Sebastian Smythe

Sebastian studied and memorized each move that was made by the submissive. Each twitch and turn. The way he pressed his head into Sebastian's hand and the goosebumps that rose on the back of his neck as he did so. His other hand itched to move up his leg and rest on Blaine's hip. He wanted to scale up the other man's back and feel his bare skin flush against the palm of his hand. Blaine caught him off guard when he turned to look up at him. He looked so adorable, it was hard for Sebastian to take his eyes off of him. "That feel good?" Sebastian asked in a voice that was far softer than he ever used. But this moment called for it. "If you want to go to sleep, you can," he cooed.

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine nodded slowly but just laid there, studying Sebastian's face for a few moments. "It feels good, yeah," He murmured, trying hard to hang on to the small amounts of puppy space he still had left. However, he found himself slowly coming out of it as the sleep drew nearer and nearer. "You sure? I don't want you to be stuck here, but I am probably going to pass out in a minute. So, if you want to go, you can. This was fun," He chuckled softly, leaning further up into the touch on his hair. He hoped he wasn't crossing a line here, and if he was, he was prepared to move without any hesitation whatsoever.

Sebastian Smythe

His heart beat was unsteady his breathing ragged as he stared down at Blaine. His eyes were fluttering and his breathing slow and rhythmic, it was easy to fall under his trance. It's what made him feel comfortable enough to run his knuckles along his cheek, feeling how soft his skin was. It made his stomach flip at the intimacy of it. And while his brain screamed at him to stop and pull away, he ignored that voice and kept going. "I'm sure." He nodded, wanting nothing more than to watch Blaine fall asleep. "I'll stay for a little bit and let myself out. I had fun too." Sebastian pulled the ears off of Blaine's head, giving him more access to really run his fingers through his hair. "Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Blaine D. Anderson

Blaine's heart almost leapt out of his chest when Sebastian's knuckles brushed his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into it. The truth was, he was touch-starved after going so long without anything even remotely close to this, and that small act alone had him wanting more. After the ears were removed, and Sebastian gave him the confirmation that he'd stay for a little while, Blaine couldn't help but smile softly as he guided Sebastian's hand back to his cheek. It was warm, soft, comforting and exactly what he needed. Only once he'd gotten the Switch's hand where he wanted it did he relax completely. "Thank you, Sir," He murmured gently, then allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he slowly and lazily ran his thumb along Sebastian's knuckles. He wanted to return some form of consolation, and in their current position this was the best he could do. It didn't take long before he was out, his hold on the other's hand loosening just slightly as his breathing evened out and slowed.

Sebastian Smythe

Just like he promised, Sebastian stayed put, keeping his hands where Blaine guided them and continued to run his fingers up and down Blaine's cheek. Sebastian could feel Blaine's body relax as he watched the muscles in his face do the same. It seemed like a small thing, falling asleep with someone, but there was a level of trust that was needed. In Sebastian's mind, it was a dangerous thing to hold. He didn't recall how late he actually stayed. Just that the sun was almost completely gone and he was starting to get hungry. Only then did he gently shuffle off of the bed, replacing his lap with a pillow and covering Blaine's body with a blanket he found at the edge of the bed. There was a strong urge to lean down and press a kiss to the top of Blaine's forehead, but Sebastian refrained. He'd already let down his guard enough tonight. He slipped his shoes on and turned off the light, before making a swift exit.

#blaine #para: blaine #para: if i lay here #( you're gonna be wounded ; you're gonna be my wound )#( the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you )

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butimacommander · 5 years

Text

THINGS I’D LIKE TO POINT OUT ABOUT THIS CLIP:

(Sábado 21:50: The first out of many clips that broke both our and Cris and Joana’s hearts. PSA: this clip is reaaalllyy dark and my computer makes these pics even darker for some reason, so turn your brightnesses up darlings)

I love these silent alone clips that skam does. Alone at home starring at a wall is how we all spend a part of days, whether we admit it or not. I think this is a great reminder that even though Cris is known as the party girl, it’s not all she is, and that being the life of the party is not something that comes automatically and naturally out of her in all situations.

The eye roll after Eva’s text supports this. She’s known for partying and she should be at the party, not at home having an existential crisis over her sexuality and role in this world.

Cris might slightly exaggerate her party girl role, but what is not exaggerated at all is how much Cris loves the girl gang and how much the girl gang loves Cris.

Cris is trying so hard to not go OTT and to be a good friend for Amira tomorrow. Sadly she did not know she’d get her heart broken in about 5 minutes.

I’m actually very for this heterosexual romance. At least more than Viri is.

Viri didn’t mention her birthday at all, which is very un-Viri like and the first red flag in this department. She probably thought that if she tells about her birthday she’ll have to throw a party and she doesn’t have the money to rent a place nor does she want people over to hers. I really hope that for Viri’s next bday the girls throw her a surprise party or something, I have a feeling that Viri hasn’t had many birthday parties in her life.

Joana is such a powerful distraction that Cris doesn’t even seem that bothered about the fact that one of her best friends literally hid her birthday from her.

Both Cris and Eloy are at this party, so who is Joana texting?? Or i wouldn’t be surprised if Joana had a secret tumblr account and she’s currently writing a poem about the meaning of life. Sadly the tumblr account might be wishful thinking though and she’s probably texting her mom.

The actual reason why Cris is at this party has arrived and Nora is demonstrating how Cris probably feels on the inside.

"You came” “Yes, you too” is something that will be said a lot more during these two’s relationship. (i’m so sorry about this, but it was right there)

Joana is being a responsible human and declining a drink with a bad excuse that screams foreshadowing.

Cris is shocked by the fact that declining a drink is an actual possibility in this world.

THEY ARE SO IN LOVE ALREADY AAAAAHHHHHHH

I need a Joana in my life for many reasons, but one of them is definitely that she could teach me how to flirt because damn this girl is good.

“Well, it it only happens to you and it’s so weird, it makes you special. It’s not a bad thing.” i really hope that Joana remembers this and has this mindset with her BPD.

These looks and lip bites and the little sway that Joana does towards Cris does things to me. God i’m gay.

I’ve finally found a reason for Cris’s nails!!! She has them so that she can make these ridiculously neat partings to her hair.

*cries in spanish*

It look like Cris is reacting to a compliment or something, but she’s literally just doing this cute ass smile because of their intense eye sex moment.

This is the only appropriate reaction for Eloy showing up.

Joana looks so confused about Eloy being there even though she must have known that he would be coming to the party.

I’ve said before how this whole cheek kiss greeting thing is great when it gives you a change to get close to your crush, but in this situation i think it’s safe to say that we all hope that they’d just shake hands in Spain. Or that they could just do one of those distant nods.

This then again is a heterosexual romance that i’m not for.

I can hear Cris’s heart breaking all the way across Europe. Poor baby, this is a horrible situation to be in, trust me, i’ve sadly been in this situation as well. Fun times.

Joana knows what she is doing to Cris and that she is breaking her heart. And we all know that it’s hurting Joana probably even more than Cris, hence it’s completely impossible for me to even try to be mad at Joana for all this.

“My noviO” aka Cris’s cue to leave and go and cry in a corner.

Joana looks so vulnerable and you can see her trying to study Cris’s reaction. She’s probably trying to get eye contact with Cris so that she could try to signal how much she cares for Cris, but sorry baby, you’ve lost Cris for the night.

Gotta love these clips where literally no one ends up being happy, except maybe Eloy. But we don’t care about you Eloy.

I’d like to thank Irene and Tamara’s incredible chemistry for this clip and for getting me invested and breaking my heart over and over and over again.

#crisana #croana #skam españa #things i'd like to point out about this clip #cris x joana

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seraph-novak · 6 years

Text

It’s You

Tyrus Month ~ September 1st, “Sleepover”.

Also available on AO3 ♥

As soon as Amber opened the door and ushered Cyrus inside, his eyes starting scanning every visible square inch of the Kippens’ house, hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain dirty blond-haired boy. When he’d first discovered that TJ and Amber were siblings, he’d been afraid that the dynamics in their relationships would change, but so far, everything seemed to be going okay. Except for the fact that he was now not only harbouring a crush on his best friend’s past nemesis, but also on his new friend’s brother. He was breaking two classic rules right there, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

“What’re you looking for?” Amber asked, her perfectly intimidating eyebrows drawn together. She was frowning in amusement as Cyrus strained his neck around every corner, mindlessly searching for TJ, but there was a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes as well. Did she know what was going on?

Cyrus slapped on a smile and returned his attention to Amber. Technically, he was here to see her anyway, so it would be rude of him to obsess over TJ all night.

“I was just wondering where the bathroom is?” he lied.

Amber pursed her lips. For a moment, Cyrus was convinced she was going to confront him about TJ, but then a porcelain smile slipped into place.

“There’s one just around the corner,” she said, “and another one opposite TJ’s room upstairs.”

At the mere mention of TJ’s name, Cyrus’ heart started to beat faster. His crush on the older boy was quickly snowballing into dangerous territory; if he didn’t put a stop to it soon, he was at the risk of falling too far. The only thing that kept him from trying to move on was the small chance that TJ might feel the same way. It was a long shot, but Cyrus had definitely been receiving some not-so-subtle signals from TJ lately, and he was determined to figure out what that meant before he completely dismissed the possibility of his crush being reciprocated.

“Okay, thanks.”

“Do you need to go now, or...?”

“I’m good.”

“Alright.” Amber shot him another suspicious look, then shrugged, tossing her blonde waves over her shoulder as she directed him to the living room. “You can just dump your stuff on the couch.”

Cyrus smiled at the collection of basketball trophies adorning the cabinet in the corner of the room, each of them proudly displaying TJ’s name. From the looks of it, they dated back almost nine years. It was adorable to think that TJ had been obsessed with basketball since he was a little kid, and Cyrus couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of his friend winning games and making his family proud from a young age. He’d always known that TJ was more than just a dumb jock; he had a passion for basketball, not the bad-boy reputation that came with it.

“Those are all TJ’s,” Amber said, waving her hand at the cabinet. “I guess my little brother stole all the talent in the family.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes fondly. “You’re talented too, Amber.”

“At what? Scaring people?”

“I’m sure that’s just one of many talents you possess.”

Amber smirked. “You know, for a gay guy, you really know how to sweet talk a lady.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus said with a laugh. Usually, if someone joked about his sexuality, he got anxious and paranoid. But with Amber, it was different. Ever since she’d confided in Cyrus about her first crush on another girl, their relationship had deepened. Buffy and Andi were still his best friends, of course, but it was nice to have someone who really understood what he was going through.

“Okay.” Amber clapped her hands together, a sly grin tugging at her glossy pink lips. “Let’s get this party started.”

“I don’t think a sleepover counts as a party.”

Cyrus turned at the sound of the familiar voice, his breath catching at the sight of TJ leaning in the doorway with twinkling eyes. He was wearing a baggy jumper and frayed sweatpants, and his usually immaculate hair was damp and messy from the shower, but Cyrus still couldn’t stop staring. His crush was unfairly gorgeous, after all.

“Hey, Underdog,” TJ greeted him. He bit his bottom lip and smiled – a gesture that never failed to make Cyrus tremble with the urge to grab his stupid face and press their lips together.

But instead of jumping the poor guy, he simply said, “Hey.”

“You look good today.”

Cyrus glanced down at his basic shirt and skinny jeans, and struggled to come up with a heterosexual explanation for such an unwarranted compliment. Was TJ blatantly flirting with him on purpose? Did he even care that his older sister was standing right there, shaking her head in disgust?

“Right.” Amber gritted her teeth and shoved TJ into the hallway. “That’s enough, Casanova. Go back to your room.”

TJ threw one last smile over his shoulder. “Seya, Cy.”

“Oh. Um... B-Bye, TJ!”

Once she’d successfully banished her brother, Amber glared at Cyrus. “Can you not encourage him?”

“Huh?”

“He’s clearly messing with you to get on my nerves,” she said, huffing a sigh as she tossed the pillows off the couch and onto the floor, making room for the two of them to sit down. “Just ignore him, and he’ll stop.”

Cyrus deflated slightly. Did Amber really think TJ was only flirting with him to make her angry? It sounded like the sort of thing little brothers did, but what about all the private conversations they’d had at school, when Amber wasn’t around? TJ seemed to flirt with him all the time, regardless of who they were with. Or was he only seeing what he wanted to see? All this thinking was starting to give him a headache...

“I’m gonna order some pizza,” Amber told him. “You can get changed in the downstairs bathroom.”

Cyrus nodded and scuttled off, happy for the distraction.

A couple hours later, he and Amber were curled up on the couch, making their way through the second season of Queer Eye. Empty pizza boxes and cans of diet Coke littered the coffee table, and the smell of pepperoni lingered in the air.

“So,” Amber said, her voice strangely high, like she was about to approach a tricky subject, “do you have a crush on anyone at the moment?”

Cyrus tore his eyes away from the screen. Amber was looking at him with a feral gleam in her eyes, and her mouth was twisted with a smirk. It was quite unsettling.

“Why do you ask?”

“This is what people do at sleepovers, Cyrus. They talk about their crushes.”

“Well, I don’t have a crush.”

“Liar.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Tell me who it is!”

Cyrus snorted. “Trust me, Amber, you don’t wanna know.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“Please, just drop it. I don’t want you to hate me.”

Amber frowned, and Cyrus was afraid he’d given too much away. He fixed his eyes back on the TV, pointedly ignoring his friend as she moved closer and stuck her nose in his face. She was scrutinising him, searching for any sort of clue in his expression, but Cyrus was determined not to break. If he told Amber about his crush – if he told anyone about his crush – then TJ would eventually find out, and everything would be weird and awkward between them. He didn’t want that.

Just as Amber opened her mouth to say something, the microwave pinged in the next room.

“The popcorn’s ready,” she said, moving off the couch with a sigh. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

As soon as she slipped through the door, Cyrus exhaled a shaky breath. His heartrate was almost back to normal when another body dropped into the space where Amber had been sitting.

“I hear you have a crush,” TJ grinned.

Cyrus buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Don’t you start.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You wanna know who my crush is, right? Well, I’m not telling you. It’s private.”

TJ bit back a smirk and shrugged. “It’s okay, Underdog. I have my suspicions already.”

“Y-You do?”

“Yep.” He slung an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders, his smile softening as he flicked his eyes over the younger boy’s face. He looked adorable, and Cyrus couldn’t stand it. “I have a crush too, you know.”

Cyrus gulped. “Oh. Um... That’s really great, TJ.”

“Are you gonna ask me who it is?”

“I...”

“You what?”

Cyrus licked his lips, daring himself to meet TJ’s unwavering gaze. “I have my suspicions.”

TJ chuckled. “If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t think –”

“You don’t have to worry,” TJ said, gently cupping the side of Cyrus’ face. He looked strangely vulnerable in that moment, and all Cyrus wanted to do was hold him close and tell him everything was going to be alright. “I mean it, Cy... If I’m right about your crush, you really don’t have to worry. Believe me.”

Cyrus found himself leaning closer to TJ, his eyes trained on the other boy’s mouth. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

TJ pushed Cyrus’ fringe out of his face, his lips twitching with an affectionate smile. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

“I, um... I-I don’t know...”

“I think you do.”

Cyrus pressed his palms against TJ’s chest, his fingers splaying across the soft, worn fabric of his jumper. His throat was incredibly dry, and his eyes refused to move away from TJ’s mouth. It was like he was caught in a trance, and he didn’t want to be shaken out of it. He knew Amber would be back any second, but he didn’t care. He wanted this. He wanted TJ. And all he had to do was lean forward and –

“Oh my god.” Amber slammed the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table, her glare aimed directly at TJ. “Can you stop flirting with my guest and leave us alone?”

TJ sneered. “Seriously, Amber? You couldn’t give us a minute?”

“Newsflash, baby brother: this is my sleepover!”

“Fine.” TJ gave Cyrus one last look, his hand lingering on his cheek for a moment before sliding away, then got to his feet. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Cyrus smiled. “Okay.”

As soon as TJ had disappeared, Amber turned her glare on Cyrus. “What did I tell you about encouraging him?”

“Amber, I –”

“Please don’t tell me he’s your crush.”

Cyrus stared down at his hands, his cheeks turning warm. His silence must have been answer enough, because Amber suddenly shuddered and covered her mouth, supressing a gag. When he finally found the courage to speak, she simply waved his words away and said, “I don’t wanna hear it. Let’s just eat popcorn, watch TV, and pretend this never happened.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

An awkward silence settled over them as they returned their attention to Queer Eye, their slow crunching of popcorn the only sound filling the space between the show. They were almost finished with the second season when Amber reached over and patted Cyrus’ hand. He was almost certain she was about to break his fingers or dig her nails into his flesh, but instead, she squeezed his hand and smiled.

“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time before,” she said, her eyes still watching the screen. “I guess it’s just weird. You’re my only friend, and he’s my only brother. You get what I mean?”

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry for messing things up.”

“You didn’t.” She glanced over at him, her eyes glittering. “You and TJ are actually perfect for each other. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but... I think my brother might be smitten with you.”

Cyrus ducked his head. “Well, I don’t know –”

“Stop it, Cyrus. You know I’m right.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I think I’m just scared to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Because then it’ll be real, and that’s when things start to go wrong.”

Amber grabbed his other hand and looked him dead in the eyes. “You’ll never know unless you give it a go.”

Cyrus didn’t know how to respond to that, so he rested his head against Amber’s shoulder and continued to watch TV. Amber didn’t seem to mind; she simply hooked her chin over Cyrus’ head and started to play with his hair. It was her way of saying ‘I understand you, and I’m here for you’ without having to use any words, and Cyrus was once again reminded why he’d decided to befriend Amber in the first place.

It was bordering on midnight when Amber fell asleep, her hair sticking to her lips as she breathed loudly against Cyrus’ head. He waited a few minutes – just to make sure she wasn’t faking it – then carefully replaced his head with a pillow and lowered her onto the couch.

Cyrus snuck up the stairs and found the room opposite the bathroom. Behind the door, he could hear the quiet hum of music. It wasn’t anything he’d heard before, but he liked the soothing tone of the song.

After a while of pacing up and down the corridor, Cyrus worked up the nerve to knock on the door. Almost instantly, the music went quiet, and the sound of socked-feet padded across the floor. Cyrus sucked in a deep breath and prepared himself. He knew, if he hesitated, he’d never manage to say what he wanted to say, which is why he’d decided to take a leap of faith and stop being scared for once in his life.

TJ opened the door and smiled down at him. “Hey, Underdog. What’s –”

Before TJ could finish his sentence, Cyrus grabbed his stupid face and kissed him, just liked he’d wanted to do for months.

The older boy stilled against him in shock, his arm still casually draped across the doorway. It wasn’t until Cyrus tugged at his hair that TJ got with the program and kissed him back, his hands roaming all over his body before settling on his waist. He yanked Cyrus closer and kissed him hungrily, his warm breath panting against his mouth. By the time they finally broke apart, neither one of them could breathe properly.

“It’s you,” Cyrus said between gasps, his fingers still tangled in TJ’s dirty blond waves. “You’re my crush.”

TJ cradled his face and smiled. “Ditto.”

#tyrus month 2018 #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #andi mack #tyrus fics

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agentargus · 5 years

Note

For the ‘if they had a kid meme’- Parker/Dante and Carter/Giu

Parker/Dante

Name: Aurelia Carleen Jenson, usually goes by “Lia.”

(In addition to being a silly in-joke for me personally—Dante’s FC has a song of the same name, “Aurelia” means “light,” is the name of multiple saints, and is an “A” name for Dante’s mom Ana and Carter’s step-grandma Alessia. “Carleen” is a reference to Kieran, Carter, and Caroline)

Gender: Female

Appearance: A slightly chubbier version of her parents. Has been told that she resembles a Cabbage Patch Kid and she owns it. Wants the confidence to dress like her “aunties” Rae and Amy, but for the current moment, mostly wears a lot of flowy tunics with leggings.

Personality: The sort of hippie nerd who listens to Celtic folk music, makes her own leather armor for LARPing, is obsessed with dragons and wolves, and worships Tolkien. Has a wolf fursona but isn’t a full-on furry. Delights in the fact that she’s part fae and has embraced that aspect of her heritage most.

In terms of the more individualized personality traits, she has a lot of her mother’s more introverted anxiety, which, filtered through her father’s nurturing instincts, makes her the ultimate mom friend, but also makes her worry more than she really should. She’s fun and friendly on the whole, but also really needs her alone time or else she can get a little snippy. As an only child born to two people who sort of glommed onto their siblings for much of their lives, this is a little difficult for her to explain to her parents. As a general rule, she’s at her best when she’s around people who share her interests. She gets very excited whenever her grandpa Kieran offers to teach her about her heritage (Celtic, fae, or both.)

Special talents: Naturally musical, plays the harp and flute. Has always had a rapport with animals—even though she can’t read their thoughts, generally has a pretty good sense of of what they’re thinking. Doesn’t have any particularly dramatic magic or power as far as she knows, but there’s time yet.

Who they like better: it depends on the current moment. She likes her mom better when her dad refuses to stop making terrible dad jokes and she likes her dad better when her mom gets all angsty and grumpy. They’re both a constant source of embarrassment.

Who they take after more: Wants to take after her grandpa Kieran, but probably mostly takes after her uncle Carter.

Personal headcanon: Very much the product of a village raising a child. Even though she only has one biological aunt and one biological uncle, she considers all of her parents friends to be her aunts, uncles, etc. Constantly fluctuates between wishing to be a completely normal human and being convinced she should have been born a proper fairy warrior princess. Kind of a pantheist, kind of an atheist, but very Not Catholic. She thought her dad would be angry when she told him, but he wasn’t. (“Well, that’s a relief. Here I thought you were going to tell me you were a heterosexual.”)

Faceclaim: Bailee Madison

—

Carter/Giuliana—Twins!

Name: Alexandria Joanne “AJ” Jenson-Argenti (an A name for the same reasons Aurelia had one, and a J name for Carter’s Aunt Jo. Also named after Alexander the Great and Joanne of Arc because Giu was like “I want her to be a strong, brave warrior and stuff.”)

Gender: Female

Appearance: Has her mom’s high forehead and her dad’s sculpted cheekbones. Has all of her parents most imposing features, which she’s very proud of. Dyes her hair a new color every few months and is generally kind of a chameleon with her style like her Auntie Houdini. Likes looking “witchy” but her definition of “witchy” can just as easily include Samantha from “Bewitched.” Steals both her parents’ clothes on a regular basis.

Personality: Oozes charisma, which she definitely inherited from Carter, but may or may not be related to being part fae. Outspoken and fun-loving. Definitely a good-time kind of person like her dad, but will cut you if you cross her, like her mom. Drinks her weight in iced tea everyday but tends to avoid alcohol because she ends up being designated driver at all the parties (and there are many, many parties.) Worships her Aunties Rae and Marie every bit as much as her parents do. I think she feels like she has to be loud in order to both compliment and set herself apart from her brother, but it’s also part of her personality.

Special talents: Excellent dancer like her mom, but tends to lean toward more contemporary styles of dance than ballet. Naturally very physically flexible, which could be a mutant thing, or just a natural occurrence. Probably has a little bit of changeling power/fae glamour in her, but hasn’t really looked into it. Likes to do spellwork, but isn’t good at it.

Who they like better: Honestly, probably Carter because she feels more able to talk to him. I think she’s a little scared of her mom, honestly, though she still definitely adores her too. (I see “liking” someone different than “loving” them where family is concerned.)

Who they take after more: Probably Carter in terms of personality, but Giu more in terms of intensity.

Personal headcanon: Despite everything, she considers herself the most normal member of her family, and she’s probably right. Has a poodle-mix puppy named Sparkles who she refers to as her familiar, though Sparkles probably doesn’t have any magical powers besides being cute.

Faceclaim: Ash Costello

—

Name: Lorcan Parker Jenson-Argenti

(Lorcan was the name of a saint and comes from an Irish title given to warriors. An L name for Specter, who was part of the reason Carter was united with his sister. Parker is after Giu and Carter’s favorite lady in the whole world.)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Surprisingly normal and a little frumpy, but in kind of a “too pretty to be fully human” sort of way. Wears lots of too-large polo shirts and pants that could probably pass for pajama bottoms. Tends to avoid wearing shoes whenever possible. Can occasionally be seen with little air plants growing out of his ears.

Personality: Quiet but not shy. Very calculating, like his mom, but in less of a social manipulation/power dynamic sort of way and more in a documenting kind of way. Takes notes on everything, either in his head or on paper. Scary-smart and scary-observant. Always gets good grades, prompting his Grandma Ana to dote on him a little more than her other grandkids. Definitely an introvert and a stereotypical awkward nerd. I think he probably documents things as a way to bridge the social divide he feels like he has with most people, making up for social connections with intellectual ones. He tends to think people only really like him because of the way he looks, which makes him kind of bitter and inclined to test people’s loyalty to him by being weird and seeing how people react. He’s a lot like his mom in that he has a lot of love in his heart, but only to people he deems worthy of it. If it wasn’t for Carter modeling wholesome masculinity from the beginning, he’d probably develop a nice guy complex, but instead, he just keeps a very close-knit circle of the people who he trusts and kind of forgets that other people exist. Like his parents and their respective siblings, he’s absolutely ride-or-die for his sister, despite them having almost nothing in common.

Special talents: Besides definitely having that fairy-beauty, he also got a little bit of nature magic from his dad, primarily related to succulents. (Now if only Uncle Dante would stop making “aloe you vera much” jokes every time he enters the room.)

Who they like better: He adores both of his parents, but I think his mom probably understands him better.

Who they take after: On the surface, definitely his mom, but when he trusts people and feels a little more comfortable being himself, his particular brand of weirdness is a little less creepy like his mom and a little more sort of quirky and endearing like his dad.

Personal headcanon: He’s very close with his Auntie Parker because she understands and sees more good in him than most. Also because Hampton is super good to him. He and AJ have a “twin language,” that they usually use to gossip about just about everyone. They’re quite cheeky when they’re together. He and and his uncle Dante share a love of spiders and insects.

Faceclaim: Gino Pasqualini

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peterkayscarshare · 6 years

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Life in the Slow Lane Chapter 4 by OvertheRainbow2

Life In The Slow Lane Part 4: A New Direction

Thirty minutes after his declaration, John and Kayleigh were seated on the side of her single bed, arms wrapped around each other, while Kayleigh continued to intermittently sob, sniff and ruin the sleeve of John’s shirt. She’d also made her way through half a box of Kleenex Ultra Soft and John was becoming increasingly concerned that at this rate, she was at significant risk of dehydration. “Seriously Kayleigh. You’ve got to stop cryin’” “I know! I just can’t! Every time I look at you. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. It was so beautiful.” With that she started crying yet again. “Yeah, well I meant every word. I love ya. I’m also really hoping you’ll stop blubbin long enough for me to a) get the feeling back in me right arm, b) avoid the necessity to dry clean this shirt, c) prevent flood damage to the carpet and d) let me kiss ya. That finally made her smile, “I like the sound of option d”. “I thought you might.” The kiss started out as a tentative and tender effort to reacquaint their lips but as was often the case between them, it didn’t take long for it to become more of a heated exchange. Soon they were reclining on the bed, their limbs desperately trying to find the optimum position, like a highly competitive game of Twister. Forgetting that the scope of his performance was somewhat limited by the venue, John attempted to roll onto his back, bringing Kayleigh with him, only to crash unceremoniously into the tiny bedside table, upending the alarm clock and bedside lamp. “Christ! Me elbow! Mother of God woman! You should come with a health warning.” “Never mind your elbow! What about me lamp!? Anyway, you were the one attempting gymnastics.” Moment lost, Kayleigh clambered over John to survey the damage and pick up the scattered items from the floor.

Having narrowly avoided catastrophe, John was now comfortably reclining on the bed with a somewhat smug expression on his face. He couldn’t help but grin as he admired Kayleigh’s pert posterior as she bent over in front of him. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you’ve got one hell of acute little ass Miss Kitson.” “John!” “What!? You do. It’s a statement of fact. The idea of that sleazy get Rick puttin’ his hands anywhere near you, pisses me off in ways you can’t imagine. How I’m gonna get through this wedding without lampin’ him, I’ve no idea.” Kayleigh found herself blushing at his cheeky compliment. He noticed, “You’re also very sexy when you blush.” Sensing this was heading for, as yet, uncharted territory and curious to discover the exact destination, she decided to play along. “Am I now?” “Yeah. You are.” “You know, one of these days you’re going to have to put your money where your mouth is John Redmond.” “What the Hell does that mean?” “It means you’re all talk and no action. All mouth and no trousers.” “Oh Really.” “Yeah really.” “You talkin’ about Rick because if you are, let me tell you, no one touches my woman. If he wants to keep his wedding tackle intact, he’ll keep his hands to himself from now on.” “Ooh, here comes the caveman. Your woman?” “Well, Yeah. That’s what you are...aren’t ya?” Kayleigh drew herself up to the entirety of her 5ft 2 ins, “I am a woman John.” “I know you are”. “And even though I can stand up for myself, I do love it that you get all, protective of me. I just think it’s also important that you understand that a woman has needs. This woman has needs.”

John began to look sheepish. “Yeah but I’m guessin’ they don’t include some lecherous bastard takin’ liberties!” “No. They do not.” “Listen, I know how you feel and I’m not averse to fulfilling those “needs”. Honest I’m not.” Kayleigh scoffed, “Yeah right! I’ll believe that when I see it. If I made a serious move on you right now, you’d run a mile. You’d be off down those stairs faster than Usain Bolt.“ “What makes you so sure?” “Experience. With you, it’s so far and no further. I’ve heard every excuse in the book. “Let’s not rush things”, “Oh heck, is that the time? We’ve got an early start in the morning”. My personal favourite is, “Pat next door’s bringing back me orbital sander”. You’re hot and cold more often than a dodgy boiler John Redmond. It’s like that Victoria Wood song. I’m saying “Let’s do it!” and I half expect you to say “Me mother’s sent a note to say you must excuse me.” John was smiling, “D’ya want me to beat you on the bottom with a Woman’s Weekly then?” Kayleigh couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re missing the point!” “I’m not. Believe me, I understand. You’re frustrated that we haven’t....you know...” “Oh I know! The word is sex John and frankly if you can’t even say it, I’m more than a bit concerned about you’re ability to actually do it!” “Hey! I can do it. Trust me. I’ve had no complaints” “Well I wouldn’t know, would I? Should I check the reviews on TripAdvisor?” “Don’t be smart”. “I’m not bein’ “smart”. That’s exactly what I’ve got to do, trust ya. I’ve got to trust that I’m not completely wasting my time here. That it isn’t the case that you love me but you’re just not “in love” with me.” The turn of phrase immediately caused him to sit up in bed. The atmosphere changing almost immediately. “Is this about Charlotte?” “No. It’s not about Charlotte, it’s about us.” “Then why are you digging up the past?” “I’m not!” “You are! I told you months ago that was one of the reasons why I broke up with her. You seriously think that’s how I feel about you just because we haven’t slept together yet!?” “I don’t know what to think John.” “Mother of Pearl! I tell you I love you. More than anyone I’ve ever known and you translate that to mean I love you like a mate but otherwise I’m not that fussed!? How about when we’re together? It’s not exactly as though there’s no passion there. I’ve got the bruises to prove it! In case you somehow missed it, I fancy you like mad!” “That’s the point!” “Oh, there’s a point to this? Thank Fuck!” “Now you’re just being a shit!” “Oh, I’m a shit now, am I!?” With that John got up and headed to the door, “Where are you goin’!?” “To wait for you to cool down and to be a shit in the comfort of my own home.” “Fine. Sod off then. All you ever do is avoid the issue.” “What bloody issue!?” “Why you don’t want to have sex with me?!” “I do want to have sex with you!” “So why do you keep fobbin’ me off?!” “TED2!”

It hung in the air between them for several seconds. Kayleigh looked both confused and aghast and John looked mortified. After what felt like an eternity, the silence was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Mandy’s voice, unfamiliar and a strange combination of 1940’s telephonist and vaguely patronising flight attendant, “Eh, sorry to disturb but could I suggest lowering the volume slightly? If I could avoid the necessity for Sex Education with two primary schoolers over the Sunday roast that would be very much appreciated. Thank you.” As they heard her footsteps retreat back down the stairs, Kayleigh tentatively re-opened the conversation, “Ted 2? What the hell does he have to do with our sex life?” “You really fancied him.” Kayleigh was bewildered by this random statement of the blatantly obvious, “Eh, Yeah. I’m not sure you’d find a heterosexual woman with a pulse, who wouldn’t. I also really fancy Jake Gyllenhaal and Bradley Cooper and if I was ever going to reassess my sexuality, you know that Beyoncé would definitely get it. I’ve got about as much chance with them John, as I do with Ted 2. It’s a fantasy. If I’d wanted to talk to him, unleash my inner cougar and probably make an absolute bloody fool of myself, I would have done it. I didn’t. That’s because sometimes it’s just nice to dream but know that dream will never be a reality. The truth is, you don’t really want it to be. Especially when reality is so much better. I’ve never had much luck when it comes to romance, you know that. I was beginning to think that it wasn’t going to happen for me. That happiness was something I’d always dream about but I’d never know. Then I put my name down for a bloody company car sharing scheme, checked the notice board and Cath Hilton had just helped me win the lottery of life. You came along. You. With all your quirks and imperfections, with all your wonderful and infuriating. You’re my dream come true John Redmond”. Despite himself, he felt teary. As was his habit, he desperately tried to pass it off, “If I’m your dream come true, you mustn’t have much of an imagination.” “Oh you’d be amazed.” She gave him a wicked grin and winked. Despite her reassurances though, John still looked subdued. “Let me tell you exactly what my dream always was. It was to meet a man who made me laugh until I cried. Who didn’t bore me to death. Who listened to my stories, treated me with respect and made me feel valued and special. Who didn’t just see me as some ditsy girl. Someone who was kind and made me feel safe. A man I could love so much it made my heart ache and who I knew loved me too. One that I could actually see myself building a life with. Throw in beautiful, twinkly blue eyes and the loveliest smile, a cuddle and a takeaway on a Sunday night and there it is. My idea of perfection.” “What about a six pack and a tight ass?” “What about them?” “Isn’t that what you want too?” “That’s what all this is about isn’t it? You feel self-conscious.” His sudden fascination with the bedroom carpet said it all. “John. Look at me.” Tentatively he looked up. “I feel nervous too. I keep thinkin’ about me muffin top and Cagney and Lacey aren’t quite the formidable crime fighting duo they once were.” John smiled, “Why do you think I started going to boot camp? I wanted you to see me at my best.” “You’re always at your best and you always will be. You’re the loveliest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known and every day you’re more gorgeous than the next.” “See that? Right there? That’s better than any six pack and that’s why I love you. You’re not looking for me to change, or be something I’m not and never will be and I’m not looking for you to do that either. I’m not interested in some buffed up gym bunny. I don’t want Ted 2, I want John 1.” “Do ya, really?” She moved seductively towards him, “Yes I do. I Really, really, really do.” With that she kissed him. This time it felt so much less desperate and urgent and so much more relaxed, yet with an intensity that was overwhelming. Within minutes their hands were touching and exploring, with a renewed confidence and the lure of the tiny single bed was immense.

This time it was Kayleigh who called time on their passion. “John?” She gasped. “Hmm?” Came a distracted reply from the region of her neck. “Don’t hate me but I think we should stop.” He did, immediately but for a moment he didn’t move. Slowly he lifted his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She began to panic at his frustrated expression, “I know. It’s just...” Suddenly, he broke into a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry. I’m just winding you up. I know what you mean. I don’t want our first time to be in your sister’s box room with walls like paper, a bed designed for a ten year old and the prospect of your niece and nephew walkin in on us at any moment. Not to mention your brother in law and my best mate just outside the window and your sister cookin a roast dinner in the kitchen downstairs. I mean, a little bit of distraction can sometimes be useful in these situations but there’s distraction and then there’s bloody off putting.” She whispered in his ear, “We’ll have our moment....soon. I promise”. “Too damn right we will! Do you have plans for next weekend?” “Nope, nothing in the diary.” “Well, how about when I pick you up on Friday morning, you bring some clothes and whatever other bits you need and stay with me for a few days? We’ll do whatever you want to do. Go out for dinner, or stay in and grab a takeaway, watch a DVD, or go to the cinema. Whatever you feel like you wanna do. No pressure. Just you and me....and if during that time Cagney and Lacey decide they want to let me help them with their inquiries, I’d definitely be up for that.” Kayleigh grinned, “Oh you’d be up for that would you?” John chuckled, “I absolutely would. Those two still know how to get their man and I can tell ya, I’d be more than happy to be detained at their pleasure.” Kayleigh laughed long and hard, “You’re such an idiot but I love ya to bits.” “Right back at ya gorgeous. I take it that’s a yes.” “Of course it is!” The heart shaped lamp on the windowsill suddenly caught John’s attention. “Still up there I see.” “Yep and it’s goin’ nowhere. I’m keepin’ that lamp always. Even when it doesn’t work anymore, it’s stayin’ with me.” “You really did like it eh?” “You don’t get it do ya? That’s when I knew.” “Knew what?” “That I loved you.” “When I bought you a plastic novelty lamp!?” “It wasn’t so much the lamp. It was what it meant. You could have bought me anything. A gift voucher, some flowers, or a bottle of Prosecco but you didn’t. You remembered something I said to you weeks before, in passing, about a heart shaped lamp that I liked and instead of forgetting about it, or just ignoring me, like most blokes would have done, you actually listened to me, you heard me and you cared. You held on to what I said and you chased it down to Preston and you bought it for me, just to make me happy.” By now they both had tears in their eyes. “And that is why that lamp is staying with me.” John instantly replied, “With us. It’s stayin’ with us. Forever.”

#peter kay's car share #carshare #overtherainbow2 #john x kayleigh #carshare fanfiction

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whoisntgayforgatsby · 6 years

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You Are So Beautifully Unaware, Darling

Nick goes to visit Gatsby, using the excuse of a forgotten umbrella. To his dismay, Gatsby is feeling ill so, Nick stays with him to make him feel better since Gatsby doesn't quite know what being sick is like. He never intended on confronting his feelings.

Its nearly half past ten when I crack the large knocker on Gatsby's front door. One of his servants opens the door with a flat expression.

"Morning, Christian." I nod at him and he lets out a huff.

"What would you like, Mr. Carroway?" He asks me and I bite the tip of my tongue lightly.

"Well, I'm just returning this to Gatsby," I present the umbrella that I'd been using as a cane as I'd stood there. "He left it at my house yesterday when the rain stopped." I explain as he looks me over.

"Mr. Gatsby has not risen yet, I will inform him you came." That was an odd statement as Gatsby was always, always up far before myself. Maybe those late nights finally caught up to him.

"I also brought some tea that he liked. I could make him some to rise to?" Real subtle, Nick.

The butler sighs at me, knowing that I wouldn't be leaving until I was allowed to see Gatsby. He steps aside slightly.

"Alright, we'll we will have the maid make the tea. You can bring it to him."

I relent and hand the tea to one of the scrawny, blonde girls in tight clothing and she bounds off with her fake breasts towards the kitchen.

I see Gatsby has a type other than Daisy and it surely isn't me. I may be hopelessly queer but, I'm not blind. The girls are stunning. Not as much as Gatsby, of course but, you get the point.

I give the room a once over. I've been into this place at least a thousand-and-sixteen times and I still don't know more than about three or four of the rooms in the building.

“Sir, the tea is ready.” A dark-haired, olive-skinned maid says, carrying a tray my way. She was extremely beautiful and I smile at her.

“Thank you.” I give her a nod and take the serving tray from her.

“Would you like me to show you where his room is?” She asks me kindly.

“No, that’s fine, I’ve been there before. Thank you again.” I smile for a second time at her.

“Okay.” She bows lightly before hurrying back towards the kitchen.

I wander my way through at least five rooms, the dining room, the ballroom, a sunroom, another ballroom and the library, before I stumble upon his bedroom. It should’ve been much easier to find as it says ‘Gatsby’ in big, bold, golden script across the door.

I tap against the wooden door. “Gatsby?” I speak slightly louder than usual. The door is open a crack and I push it gently. It swings open slowly with a creak. There’s a mound of pillows and blankets overflowing off of Gatsby’s bed. It sends a light panic through me as I place the tray down on a table near the door. “Jay…?” I ask, my voice smooth but loud throughout the house-sized room.

The mound stirs and there’s the sound of muffled coughing and choking before all of them burst upright, flying everywhere and a confused and agitated looking Gatsby is sat upright in the middle of it all. His hair is mussed and he has a faint stubble on his cheeks.

He groans and lets out a feeble cough before tipping forward. I panic and scurry to him. “Jay! Are you alright?” I croak as I reach him. Gatsby tips onto his side, lying like a toddler that decided to sleep exactly where they were. He looks up at me with his big blue eyes, shining sickly.

Gatsby grabs me by the collar of my shirt. “Nick! I-... I think I may be dying! I-... My chest feels like it’s caving in on me and I-I… I can’t breathe and my nose is stuffed and I keep choking… Nick, my head, it-”

I start to laugh, I can’t help it.

“Nick! What are you laughing at me? I am dying! ” He gasps dramatically.

“Jay, calm down,” I chuckle and my finger press to his forehead. “You’ve just a fever.” I shake my head.

“I-... What?” He sits up a bit, getting closer to my face as he was still gripping my collar desperately.

“Just got a cold, you’re fine.” I pat his hair down a little. He collapses back to his bed and yanks me with him, I land flat over his chest.

I scramble to my feet and Gatsby lets go. I’m pretty sure that he didn’t notice my franticness and my distressed state.

I clear my throat and brush my hands over my coat before shakily making my way back to where I’d placed the tea, taking my suit jacket off and placing it over my arm. “Where are you going?” Gatsby sits and sways dizzily. “Don’t tell me your leaving.” He sounded more like a scared child than a disappointed adult.

“I-... I brought you tea. I thought it may help you wake,” I show him the tray as I walk it across the room and place it on the table closest to his bed. “If your throat is sore then this may help that as well.” I hold a cup out to him, he stares for a moment before taking in shaking hands.

“Thank you, old sport,” He’s suddenly shy as he sips at the still hot tea. “You-...” He hesitates for only a second before sliding over on his massive bed. “You can sit, Nick.”

I think for a moment and sit on the edge. He waits a bit before moving closer to me and leaning to place the cup down. He coughs feebly into his arm and pulls the covers around him like a small child would. Everything about him is so innocently reminiscent of a small kid, unsure of most things even when he usually doesn’t show it, it’s still there.

“Thank you for coming over, old sport,” He brushes his arm to mine. “You’re a good, honest man, Nick… I admire you.”

“I’m not great, I just act the way that people should act, you know?” I mumble and he gives me a confused glance. “They’re a rotten crowd,” I say, referring to our awful friend group. “You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.” That was the only compliment I have ever paid Gatsby and it makes his cheeks burn.

“I-... Thank you, Nick…” He mumbles to himself. “I like you a fair amount more than the others myself.”

Gatsby yawns and rubs his eyes. “I should let you sleep.” I go to stand but he grabs my shirt with both his hand.

“No!” He flushes, wide-eyed at his outburst. “I-... I just meant, well… Please stay, old sport.”

I’m not quite sure what to say. I’m so flustered by Gatsby’s touch that I can barely breathe let alone think or speak. Gatsby has also never been one to stutter or stammer or trip over his words, he spoke so slowly and calmly with no hesitation. Suddenly, he’s spewing words and thoughts and things that healthy Gatsby would avoid. Sick Gatsby however, trips over himself in a flustered haze.

“Of course, Jay.” My voice is weak.

“Okay…” He breathes.

“Jay?” I ask and he hums to show he’s listening. “Have you never been sick before?”

“Well, I obviously was as a child but not since long before I left home.” He admits. I touch his forearm lightly and shy away like a spooked deer.

“I understand now.” I nod and he gives me a wary look.

“What?” He croaks and coughs against my shoulder.

“Why you panicked like you did. You don’t know what being sick is like,” I answer, glancing at him and he nods, falling asleep as he was and his head falls to my shoulder. “Jay.” I croak and shrug.

He sits up and looks at me, confused. “Oh, sorry.” He yawns again and I turn more to him.

“Jay, I can-” He falls to my chest this time and I freeze. I honestly can’t move with the way his head fell so intimately on me. I swallow and try to force some kind of human sound from my mouth but, all that comes is a broken squeak.

His arms fall around me as he gets comfortable, making me fall over. He doesn’t so much as stur at the feeling. I surrender, accepting my fate. Being gay and trapped under the most wonderful man on the earth truly is torture.

I bring my hand up and pull it away before I touch him, hesitating for far too long before pressing my fingers into his hair, stroking it like a cat. I swear he’s purring like one but, he is sick and probably just stuffed up, causing him to snore. I get to stare at him now too. He’s flawless.

I run my hand down to his cheek, cupping it and getting a little too brave as I rub my thumb over his stubbly jaw. His skin is so damn soft and my heart is pounding. I’m shocked that it hadn’t woken him yet.

“Yes, old sport.” He rasps in his sleep, pressing his face more to me and gripping at the shirt at my sides, making a suspender clip pop from my pants.

I wonder what he dreams about. Who that ‘old sport’ is directed at? What had they said for him to agree to it? I wanted to ask him about it but, that would be a bit much.

“Darling, yes…” His voice is slurred. “I like that, Darling .” He releases my right side and fumbles around until his hand clasps my wrist and thumb with his in my palm.

I tense and feel his fingers twitch when I slide my hand up into his hair. He hums contently and a smile ticks at his lips, broken by a single cough that shakes him. I believe he’s about to awake as he sturs and I flinch, clenching my eyelids shut forcefully.

He doesn’t though and he laces a leg around one of mine, his foot peeking from the covers at the edge of the bed. He whines and his forehead crunches. “Love?” He croaks out as a question. “No… Actually, maybe… Yes, yes I do.” His head nods a bit.

Daisy.

He was probably talking to me about loving Daisy, or it could be Tom. His words aren’t harsh or laced with venom like they usually are when he’s speaking with Tom. I just assume it’s me because of how gentle his words are, he only speaks to a small few with that tone.

I continue twirling his hair over my fingers and massaging his scalp subconsciously. I can feel his heart beating and it’s so nice. I could, for just this one moment in time, pretend that Jay Gatsby wasn’t in love with my cousin or that he was impossibly heterosexual. Just for now, I could pretend we were safely in love and that I wasn’t hopelessly and madly falling for such a far away man.

“Gatsby.” I whisper to myself as I push his hair away from his face.

“Nick.” He answers groggily and clings tighter to me. Another feeble cough rumbles in his chest.

I pull his blanket around him as I can see a small part of his exposed stomach and it was driving me insane. He was driving me insane. How could he not? He was beautiful with his short, blond hair and his long, black eyelashes. His blue eyes that shone brighter than the stars on a crystal clear evening, that were deeper than the ocean and bluer than the perfect pool in his yard.

That smile. Don’t get me started on it.

Lord, that was one hell of a smile. It purified me and was a sin all at once.

His lips were so pink and so plump and smooth looking, so kissable.

I don’t even realize I’m falling asleep until I’m far too gone.

⚣

I wake and find Gatsby still in place and my fingers still wrapped in his hair. He’d drooled all on my shirt and curled more into me. I smile because, somehow, when he felt like absolute rubbish and was having weird fever dreams and drooling all over me, he still looked as perfect as always.

He coughs a bit and lets out a soft whimper, hiccuping. It’s beyond cute. And, his eyes suddenly scrunch hard and he sneezes so hard that I’m afraid he broke a rib.

His eyes flash open but, he doesn’t move one bit, other than his eyes. I detangle my fingers as discreetly as possible and his head flies upward. Our eyes meet and we both burn crimson.

Gatsby sits up and prys our limbs apart, fumbling to the other side of the bed from me. “I’m so sorry, Nick.” He chokes out as he pulls the blankets more around himself to hide his face.

“It’s fine, Jay.” I assure and he peers out at me.

“Lord! I drooled all over you! I am so sorry, Nick! Let me get you-”

“Gatsby, calm down. It’s fine. You’re ill, sick people do weird stuff that means nothing. We’re fine.” I insist calmly, touching his wrist. His movement seizes and he sits like an agitated dog.

“I still feel bad, old sport,” He frowns. “Your shirt is gross now.”

I sigh. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll go find myself a new shirt, okay?” I offer and he relents.

“You can take anything. Keep anything.” He tells me and I roll my eyes. I’ll only keep it until it no longer smells of his wonderful scent.

I find a silky, pink shirt and wander back to where Gatsby was on the bed. I pull my suspenders free and begin to undo my shirt buttons, leaving the shirt on the bed.

“What are-... You-... You’re changing?... Here ?” He asks with a slight crack in his voice, like it pains him.

“Oh-...” I stop popping the buttons. “Sorry, I can-”

“It’s fine, I just-... You don’t seem like the type that would… Well… Undress in front of strangers.” He coughs and his body shakes.

“Oh, so we’re strangers, huh?” I tease. “Didn’t know strangers slept on other strangers.” He blushes furiously.

“I meant like-like…. People! In general, Nick!” He breaks into a hysterical coughing fit that brings me to sit and rub his back until it calms. He pants and reaches his arm out for his tea. I hand it to him and he sips the ice-cold flavored water.

“I was teasing you, it’s alright, Jay.” I chuckle lightly, sanding and finishing off my shirt before sliding it off.

Gatsby reaches out and retreats so fast that I almost believe that it was my imagination. “Okay?” I ask him and he coughs.

“I-... Fine. I just was-... I was going to-...” His eyes flicker for an excuse before pointing to my leg. “Your pocket.”

I notice it’s untucked and I press my fist into it to fix it. “Thanks.” I nod and reach to the shirt without paying attention and brus my hand with his. We both jump a bit and quickly recover as he thrusts the shirt my way. I slide it on and button it up.

“You-... Nick, you missed a button, Darling,” He breathes and his eyes get wide as he looks up to see if I’d heard. I had. “Sorry, I-... Old sport.” Is the only explanation he gives me before pulling me to the bed to fix my buttoning error. He redoes them all except for the top three or four.

I reach for them an he pushes my hands back. “What?” I ask.

“That’s how you-...” He turns away for a second, processing his next words. “How you get all the ladies.” He nods and I touch the exposed skin.

“Do you like it better this way?” I blurt without a single thought. Gatsby looks taken aback and that is surly a new look that I haven’t seen ever before.

“I-... I’m not a girl, old sport. It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, almost like he’s ridding himself of any other thought.

“It does matter.” I answer and he continues shaking his head.

“You’re looking for a woman so, you have to wear your clothes the right way to get them.”

“What about guys , Jay? What would they like?” I press and he still doesn’t seem to get the hint, like he’s shaking it away.

“What does it matter, Nick? You’re trying to woo Jordan Baker.” He dismisses me.

“What if I’m not, though?” I’m on my knees, close to Gatsby. He reaches out and touches my bare skin.

“You are.”

“Not.” I finish for him.

“Then, who ?” He asks and I sigh, slumping back.

“Nobody,” I mumble. “If it’s not apparent then it’s not worth it, Jay. Just get some sleep.” I shake my head and Jay places a hand on my thigh.

“Nick… Tell me,” He says and something in his eyes says he knows already. “ Say it .”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Who are you trying to impress, old sport?”

“You.”

And, Gatsby kisses me. He presses me back to the bed and kisses me so hard I can’t remember our names. He kisses me until his lungs burn and he chokes.

“Thank, God, I was right.” He pants so soft it’s hard to make out what he was saying.

“How could you not be?” I say just as soft.

“I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I was awake most of the time you played with my hair and-... And, I couldn’t tell.” He laughs to himself as my cheeks get red.

“Just kiss me and shut up… Maybe then you’ll feel better.”

"I already do."

And, we kiss and kiss and kiss.

#Natsby #The Great Gatsby #gatsby #Jay Gatsby #Nick Carraway

15 notes · View notes

the-mf-bread-babies · 4 years

Text

– REBUILD III –

RUNAWAY RENEGADES

· COLLECTION 1 ·

“backstories”

———————————————————

- VOLUME ONE -

Dennis, Aaron, Damon, Sawblade

It was a normal (or was it?) day. The alarm on the boy's phone rang loudly, and he woke up.

Two hours late. It was a Monday.

Too tired to care, he fell back down to his bed and went on his phone. He opened Twitter and was shocked to spot the #1 trending hashtag:

#DojaCatIsOkAgainParty

He rejoiced, opening it to find millions of tweets without any context. After ignoring various fancams that made him lose hope in the current situation, he stumbled upon a thread explaining the current situation.

“#DojaCatIsOkAgainParty : A THREAD <3” The first tweet twote, accompanied with four pictures: One of Doja Cat herself, one of Nicki Minaj, another of whoever becomes the next US president, and Lana Del Rey. What the hell is going on?

“As we all know, Doja Cat, Beyoncé, and many other artists have somehow been cancelled by Lana Del Rey within a week in May of 2020,” Okay… “This is due to Lana's satanic powers.” Oh, okay. Yeah, this was the same account who said that Avril Lavigne has a clone. Who was part of the CIA. Sure, man, whatever.

“At 3:56 AM today, Doja Cat had kidnapped [insert 46th president here] and escorted him to a secondary location. Then, Nicki stabbed the shit outta him. This has caused the America fandom to go insane.” what. “Lana was behind this. As we all know, she and Jessie J had hacked into The Pentagon and made Beyonce Knowles president, for clout.” what.

He put down his phone, questioning what the hell Stan Twitter was on now. The boy approached his cat, Sawblade, who was sleeping on the floor. Sawblade yawned dramatically and circled the boy's legs. He picked her up and laid her onto his bed.

“kwjdkwjjrjrjrkjwkjwjrkj” The cat purred. His phone buzzed. It was a notification from PlayStation Messages. He opened it, eager to know if one of his friends finally wanted to play multiplayer with him.

“#0.00 NULL$$ - Hello PLAYSTATION user! We at NULL HQ politely invite you to join us in making the world a better place one job at a time. Kindly go to this location and sign up for one of our many job offers! No résumé needed, only experience, hard work, and an interview and a fitness test! We hope to see you soon!”

Oh, a scam. He took a screenshot of the text, and then immediately blocked and reported the user, NULL000000. Huh, odd username. Whatever, he's not gonna reply–

One DM from Twitter.

NULL AGENCIES ✓ – @NULLhiring

“#0.00 NULL$$ - Hello TWITTER user! We at NULL HQ politely invite you to join us in making the world a better place one job at a time. Kindly go to this location and sign up for one of our many job offers! No résumé needed, only experience, hard work, and an interview and a fitness test! We hope to see you soon!”

The same thing, huh? This NULL guy really wants his money, he guesses. First Nicki commits manslaughter and now he keeps getting the same scam messages? It's only been not even an hour today and yet so much has happened. What next, Enya comes out of hiding?

“BuzzFeed News: Famous singer Enya comes out of her big-ass castle to collaborate with Nyan Neko Sugar Girls creators for new Apple TV miniseries”

Damn, okay, this is a dream. The boy wrapped himself in a blanket, hugged his bolster and wriggled around, trying to sleep. He couldn't, so he went back on Twitter.

jimin is fr**kin DEAD (@bangtanctwice):

“dont s-word me but like why is l/*n//a out of prison again. i thought she had the electric chair already ://”

illumi killed silva <3 (@hxhoverwatcch)

“ITSSB ACK !!!!!!!!! HXH IS BAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YEEEEAAHAJAHAHAAAAA DJDJJDJDJSNDNFJDDJ”, followed by an edit of Hisoka Morow.

oikawa⁷ (@HAIKYUUUUS)

“man how the hell did furudate think a crossover w yu yu hakusho mp100 bnha kny gintama n hgtv could save haikyuu. it practically ended the moment they all ate that volcano w departure in the bg”

Kerry Washington ✓ (@kerrywashington)

“LITTLE FIRES 6 OUT NOW!!!! I'm gonna EXPLODE Earth in this one!!! I'm going back to the Early Cambrian stage!!!! Bye Pearl!!”

Internet Explorer Anitwt (@iloveboruto)

“Y’all Kurapika brought A SHOVEL to that fight with Uvogin!!! A Whole SHOVEL!!! 😂😂😂”

knas is canon !! (@moiiiraclones)

“guys i think bakugos a kurta..... think abt it.... red eyes... always stressed......”

vic (NOT SPOILER FREE!!!) (@myname_jeff)

“why is no one addressing the fact that jfk 2 is happening and like everyone involved has stans”

ray is ia rn (@cryptodorito)

“my dog just ate my dad ....... stan list !”

give moxxi another dlc (@TORGUEEEE)

“hey does anybody find it weird that gearbox just released borderlands 4 w no buildup At All. seems p fishy :(”

gerard's hand sanitizer (@raytowo)

“did mcr just do twelve concerts in three days. legends”

ceo of tanjirou (@hiskoamorron)

“pls stream jessie j now ;) or die <\3”

ceowo owof bakuwugowouwu (@bakubaby)

“yes, what i did was wrong. there are dogs everywhere starving and eating dog treats is not morally right. that said, (1/67)”

Okay, enough of that. No more. Please. Three hours have passed, and he's still very confused, if not even more confused than before. Is there some sort of event today that he missed? Why is every single tweet weird? Is all this real? Is he in a parallel universe? Is he dead?

The boy zoned out into the bedroom wall, thinking of all the possibilities of this happening. He was lost in his imagination, his train of thought splitting and exploding due to all the unusual occurrences. That was, until Sawblade voiced out her needs.

“YEEEEEEHEHEA” she yelled. She was starving, mainly because the last time she ate was like, a whole hour ago. Sad.

“Ye lah,” “Mew,” “Meow meow mew mew mew,” The boy meowed as he dragged himself to fill up his cat's bowl. “chyouooyoymeeeiielll,” he complimented, ruffling the cat's face.

The boy tripped over his Form 3 activity book as he was walking, a reminder that he should probably do his homework soon. He turned the doorknob and opened the door and he was shocked to find that his house…

Had been ripped in half.

He pushed his back against the wall and slowly inched along the wall towards the kitchen, staring down into the abyss below the house. The living room had a sofa missing, and the television looked like it was going to fall down any second. Furniture floated in the void below the floorboards, which was bent, with plumbing pipes exposed, as well as the metal rods holding the house together.

It reminded him of what Sanctuary looked like when it was floating in space in Borderlands 2. But instead of a city, it was a condominium unit. And instead of Lilith lifting it up, it was… unknown. If only he could gunzerk, or have siren powers, or be a ninja sniper assassin, or have a turret, or have a giant mech, or be super tall and have a buzz-axe. If only. But thank God there's no Mordecai. To hell with Mordecai. I hate Mordecai. He's the most straightest man. Ever. Claptrap is less straight than him. HANDSOME JACK is less straight than him. R O L A N D is CLEARLY less straight than him. Mordecai is the epitome of heterosexuality.

Thankfully, the boy reached the kitchen safely, but still very full of anxiety, and poured the cat food into a flat container, since Sawblade is so fluffy, her face can't fit in cat bowls. He emptied the water bowl, cleaned it, and filled it with filtered water, making sure it's slightly cooled. Sawblade likes it that way. As she cronched on the kibbles, he stared into the distance, wondering what his apocalypse name would be.

He grabbed a glass of water and a packet of muffins for his breakfast. As he ate it, he scrolled through his timeline as if it was the morning paper. Oh, Katy Perry gave birth to twelve kids. And Gowon killed X Æ A-Xii. With a machete. Ok. That's cool, I guess. Capitalism, y’know?

:DAMON @C0RR0Sl0N

“my house got sliced in half. im just chillin here w my cat sawblade. considering eating cat food. not influenced by any recent drama ok”

Send Tweet.

As the boy was eating, he noticed the front door to the house was missing. The entrance lead to what seemed like the side of the street. In a foreign place. The lamppost was unfamiliar, and so was the pavement design. It seemed rather American.

He peeked his head out, and lo and behold, he spotted a pet shop just a couple of feet away. The sudden shock of all this made him forget about his cat, an indoor cat, a curious one. Sawblade stepped slowly outside, and as she went into the boy's view, he stormed to catch her, panicking and swearing profusely.

Of course, this made her way more terrified, and she ran faster, and… into the ajar door of the pet shop. “SAWBLADE!!! DON'T!!” he yelled loudly as he stopped in front of the building. The boy paused, unsure whether to proceed or retreat.

“Russell Family Pet Store, since 1965” wrote a large sign on the front. It looked rustic, but well-kept. The blinds were drawn, so the boy couldn't see what was inside. The building occupied two lots, and seemed to be two storeys tall. A nice rooftop garden was situated on top of it, and there were painted-over remnants of many posters plastered onto the walls. The walls were now coated with light brown paint. This building was surely cared for by a variety of owners.

Although hesitant, the boy stepped into the store, his hands shaking. He could've probably pass out right then and there if he wasn't searching for Sawblade. He sneaked into the building quietly, determined to get his cat and run like hell right after. However, his ideal plan was quickly foiled after he stepped on a squeaky toy.

“Shit, who's there?” A deep voice asked. It seemed like it belonged to someone tall, depressed, and very angry about capitalism. The boy was stuttering, both from the panic of being caught, and also because he had to speak to a native English speaker. “Probably just the delivery guy,” A second voice assured. This voice seemed quite hard to guess, but it was surely a kind one. Very trustworthy. “Jed, is that you?” The kind voice added. Yeah, these two are totally friendly. Probably. Don't take any chances, though.

A figure approached the boy, and it towered above him. The 5'9" hulking beast stopped. “Oh, sorry, we're closed. It's Judgment Day,” the kind man said. Well, of course it's judgement day. Why wouldn't it be judgement day? “Wait, no, I'm an idiot. Martin Luther King Jr’s day.” The man corrected. “How the hell do those two even remotely sound like each other?” The first voice said, the owner sitting behind the counter, shadowed.

“M-My cat's here.” “Have y-you sa-see-sawn her?” The boy was actually very fluent in English, even more than Malay, but the panic he was experiencing kind of absolutely extirpated any knowledge of it from his brain. Really, dude? “Sawn”? What is this, Texas?

Fortunately the two were understanding. The man behind the slau– counter stood up suddenly. “Holy shit, do you speak Spanish? Habla español?!” He asked excitedly. “No, why would I–? I'm Malay, dumbass,” the boy retorted, then realising that he just insulted someone much older than he was and that was… kinda rude. “WAIT SORRY” he blurted out, sending him back into the panic that he was under when he entered the store.

“HUH?! No, I’M sorry, I just assumed you were South American just because you couldn't speak English!” The man yelled, apologizing loudly. Yeah, this dude's sure as hell white. “I CAN!!! WHERE'S MY CAT!!!” The boy shouted back, very confused at where his priorities should be right now. “Oh!” said the man in front of him.

“IS THIS HIM– SORRY, HER?!” The man asked, reaching towards the corner. “We, uh, found her just straight-up running into here. Which is really weird, since cats, like, don't do that,” he said, holding Sawblade. Senang cita. “YES!! THANK YOU!!” The boy yelled. Why is everyone yelling?

Sawblade looked comfy all snuggled up in the man's arms. “He… seems to like you,” The boy said jealously. Usually, he was the one Sawblade loved most. “I have ten cats, so,” The man replied casually. “…How? Even?” he questioned as he carefully took Sawblade from the stranger. “I just do?”

The boy still remained very confused. “Name's Aaron, by the way. Please don't call me Ay-Ay-ron. Just… please,” the kind man said. “Ok” the boy replied. “Mine's. Um. Uh.” “…” The boy thought whether to say his real, legal one, or the one he went with online, which he seemed to prefer way more than his real one. “THE NAME'S DENNIS RUSSELL. I SHARE MY INITIALS WITH A VIDEO GAME.” The white guy said, interrupting the boy's statement. “Oh. Good to know. Hi, Mr. Danganronpa,” The boy politely said. “Fuck yeah,” replied Dennis.

“And if you're wondering which one of us is part of the Russell family that's running this shop,” Dennis began, “Den, don't,” Aaron interrupted. “It's my family. But, my dad became a magician, and my dad's choosing to indulge in his gardening hobby here, so the job's passed down to me now,” Aaron said.

“G//ay Ass!” Dennis shouted. “Okay, fine, Dennis, since we got married last month, you're part of the Russell family, too, honey,” Aaron said. “Just don't–” “YEEEEEHAAWWEE PARDNER WELCOME TO YE OLDE RYUSSELL PEYT SHYOP–” Dennis yelled loudly enough to give the boy a heart attack. However, this was probably the tenth time this week he did this, so Aaron was just very tired. “Jesus.”

“Um, what is this place?” The boy was still very much confused on why there was a pet shop sitting in front of his house, which was ripped in half. “I just told you…” Dennis said disappointedly. “No, like, where am I? Why are you guys American? I'm assuming? I'm not?” The boy said. “Well, our pet shop's in Toledo; Toledo, Ohio,” Aaron stated, gesturing towards a pile of papers. “If you're lost, we have some maps, some phone books…” he continued, unaware of the current situation.

“No, I live in Selangor, so– Selangor, Malaysia, not Ohio, out of all places, God, no, and my house is right over there,” the boy argued, pointing outside. “Well, half of it,” The two pet shop workers stood at their places, trying to process what the hell this kid just said. “Like? There? Outside this gracious state that occupies the #2 spot for most arson cases in the US? That's Malaysia?” Dennis shot back, also unaware. The boy was a bit excited after hearing him mention the name of his country, but shook it off to further develop the conversation. “Yes. Somehow. Also, I really don't think this is Ohio. Too many buildings and I haven't seen any corn fields,”

“Didja know there's over 75,000 farms in this 14-million acre state? There are, ya just gonna know where to look :)” Dennis stated. “What the hell? That's way too many farms. How does… what…” The boy replied in shock, almost dropping Sawblade. “I'm sorry, what?” Aaron asked. “Yup! Lotta farms in the buckeye state!” Dennis replied excitedly.

“HALF?!” “Of it??” It seemed like Aaron was the only one there actually concerned about the task at hand. “Huh? Oh yeah. Not really that big of a deal, though, honestly; enough food here for thirteen weeks,” How the boy calculated that, and how accurate it is remains a mystery. “Anyway, how do state fairs work? Like, do corn dogs taste good? I've had deep-fried Oreos once, they tasted really good. Really love 'em,”

Aaron ignored the exchange by the two very excited individuals and opted to step out to see if the boy was right or not. In his head, he was honestly convinced he wasn't, but that was up for change. Hell, he didn't even look at his phone or the TV today, so maybe the kid's right, his house is snapped in half.

Oh, it is.

“Holy shit, Denny, come look,” he yelled, gesturing to his husband. “Okay! I hope the aliens aren't homophobic or anything! :)” Dennis replied, running eagerly to the door. “HOT DAMN!” Dennis shouted. Now the boy could see how they both looked like, especially Dennis.

Dennis was definitely over six feet tall, he had balding, spiky red hair, and his eyes were big and sunken, and had bags under them. Aaron, on the other hand, had only seemed tall because of his hair. Aaron was missing a tooth for some reason. His lower-left fang. That's weird. They were both sporting uniforms; an orange shirt covered by a green vest with the logo of the pet shop sewn near the… like the… the end of it but like in the front? Like the middle? But like the logo was on the side. Yeah

“I don't think aliens are homophobic. Have you played Borderlands? Lots of g/ay people, and they're all technically aliens. I think the aliens are g//ay,” the boy explained thoughtfully. “I have, at my friend's house this one time, but then I died and I had to, like, pay, so then I just left his house, man,” Aaron replied. “Yeah, that's fair, usually I just save and quit whenever I die,” the boy added.

“Wait, what's your name, again? This whole time, you're being referred to as ‘the boy,’” Dennis asked, breaking the fourth wall. “Shrek,” the boy replied. The two men nodded in solidarity. “Good name,” Aaron complimented. “It reminds me of my childhood, and good times, and Shrek-flavored Oreos,” he added.

Shrek paused for a bit, hesitant to tell them his preferred name, but saying it anyway because they both seem quite nice and understanding, also, his family's not there. “I'm kidding. Shrek is but only my middle name,” Shrek explained, “Please, call me…”

“Damon,”

Gender euphoria ran through his veins like that one time Thanos put on the infinity gauntlet and he was AAAAAGH, P O W E R,,, HNGGH, that but Yeah. “Cool! Hi, Damon!” Dennis said, watching Damon's eyes burn with joy. Oh, just saying, like in some more volumes, this little kid turns into a pyromaniac, so. Yeah. Watch out for that. This is Foreshadowing.

Aaron scanned the horizon, unknowing what the hell was happening. “Hey, guys, should we… go investigate or something?” Damon thought for a bit, but not too much because this thing going on seemed too random to properly scan and plan. “Um, I don't know,” he said wisely, “Did you guys hear about that thing with, like, Nicki Minaj and the president? Were you guys affected or whatever?”

“With who and what? Nick– NICKI?? THE PRESIDENT?? OF HERE?? WHATEVER THIS THING IS???” Dennis struggled to figure out what Damon was saying. “Yeah, she stabbed him or something. Doja Cat helped too :)” Damon explained, confusing the two even more. “Why?” Aaron tried. “I dunno. Drama?” “Heard Lana's involved too… but you didn't hear it from me, yeah?” Damon added.. “THE COW GIRL. HELPED NICKI. AND LANA. ASSASSINATE THE PRESIDENT. DAMON.”

- * Special Thanks * -

Snowball

Sandball

Gon Freecss

Killua Zoldyck

Leorio Paladinight

Kurapika Lastname

Hisoka Morow

(is that the correct spelling?)

Illumi Zoldyck

Kikyo Zoldyck (shes pretty, ok)

Kanamori Sayaka

Mizusaki Tsubame

Asakusa Midori

Pakunoda

Machi Komacine

Moira O'Deorain

Freddy Krueger

Sideshow Bob

Spy TF2, Pyro TF2, Scout TF2, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Yoda, Darth Vader, he's cool, Sheev Palpatine, Developers of the video game “Tiny Thief”, Mad Moxxi, Ellie Kurta (shes a spiderant. my theory), Handsome Jack (Not Really, Burn In Hell) (during the period of time between me writing this and me copying and pasting this, i have developed a crush on not only jack, but his doppelgangers too. help)

Angel :)), Claptrap, Dr. Zed, NOT Marcus Kincaid, Dr. Patricia Tannis, Roland, Lilith, Brick (ga/y rights), Zer0, Krieg, Tiny Tina, Tiny Tuna, Louise Bob's Burgers, Mabel Pines, Stanley Pines, Lazy Susan, Sheriff Daryl Blubs, Deputy Durland, Officer Spectre :)), Yoda Again, 2003 Honda Civic, Ray Toro, Lynz Way, Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Frank Iero, Linda Bob's Burgers, Bob's Burgers Bob's Burgers, Sans Undertale, Komaeda, Sombra // Olivia Colomar, Actually All Of Talon Bc They're Hot Af, Except For That French Guy Max, Torbjörn Lindholm, Torbjörn Lindholm, Torbjörn Lindholm, Spider-Man PS4, Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, The Lil Psychic Girl, Uhhhh Mario Brothers

part 2 incoming.

0 notes

aliciameade · 7 years

Text

“Bet On It”

Wishing a [slightly belated] Happy Birthday to the incomparable @brittany-snodes!

I gift to you the fic you always wanted but never received.

Beca had always loved weddings.

Not that she let on that she did; it was in direct opposition to the personality she chose to convey to the outside world.

But she loved weddings.

Everyone was happy and celebrating love, and at the reception, she had plenty of opportunities to judge the music, whether it was a live band or a DJ. She particularly liked challenging them - DJ and band alike - with obscure requests to see how deep their knowledge ran.

There was drama. There was always drama at weddings. A girl would break up with her boyfriend - a groomsman - because he got too drunk and made out with someone else on the dance floor. At least one child would throw a tantrum or vomit. Or both. Someone’s aunt or grandmother would pass out drunk slouched on a chair in a corner and embarrass her family. A pair of teens would get caught making out behind an oversized piece of decor. It was especially entertaining if that discovery was paired with a reveal that the teenager was something other than heterosexual; the drama was scrumptious when that happened.

Maybe her taste for it developed when she was one of the teenagers busted kissing the groom’s niece at her cousin’s wedding when she was 14.

Being in weddings, however - she’d do it if she was asked (it was always nice to be asked), out of obligation, but she wasn’t keen on it. Which is why this afternoon as her lone responsibility is to man the guest book, she’s in a good mood.

She’s not bothered that she wasn’t asked to be a bridesmaid this time. Aubrey has a big family and a lot of old friends - two facts that surprised Beca when she learned them - and her wedding party was made up of her two sisters, a cousin, her childhood best friend, and Chloe, the lone Barden Bella who’d been asked.

The rest of the girls were there, too, of course, all involved in one way or another. Chloe had tasked Beca weeks ago with arranging a song for not just her Bellas, but also the Treblemakers to perform at the reception as a surprise for Aubrey and her new husband, Jesse.

And there’s a part of Beca that thinks that’s kind of weird, that she’s participating in her ex’s wedding, but she and Jesse called it quits not long after graduation and that had been nearly five years ago.

So, it’s fine, and she’s scored the sweetest deal of being part of the wedding; she gets a decent table at the reception and didn’t have to drop cash on a bridesmaid dress or plan the bridal shower and bachelorette party she attended.

She’s wearing a brand new dress, a light mauve number with a softly pleated skirt and matching heels she never thought she could pull off but was pleasantly surprised when she looked in the mirror at the store. It made her feel soft and pretty and playful.

Winning all around, really.

She watches their first dance from her decent table and dinner is amazing, and of course it is because it’s not like Aubrey would dare fall short on any aspect of this day. She sits through Aubrey’s sister’s toast which is as prim and proper as Beca expected, but she’s thrown for a pleasant loop when her sister tosses out a story about a drunken college-student-Aubrey, before Beca knew her, screwing a frat boy at a party.

Did she mention she loved weddings?

Benji’s toast is sweet and funny and a touch awkward and it makes her tear up a little, because Jesse really is a great guy, and she knows he and Aubrey will make one another happy.

She watches Aubrey dance with her military uniformed father and Jesse dance with the woman Beca once thought could be her mother-in-law. The rest of the wedding party filters onto the floor and she watches Chloe dance with one of Jesse’s high school friends, and she watches Benji dance with Aubrey’s sister, though he’s constantly looking past her at Emily as though he’s apologizing over and over for dancing with another woman.

Beca makes her way out eventually when the lead singer of the band calls for everyone to hit the dance floor. She’s dateless tonight, which isn’t new for her; sometimes she brings a date, sometimes not. She has a good time either way. Without a date, there’s always someone else who’s without a date because they couldn’t find one in time, or they just went through a breakup. And in the very rare instances that she can’t find someone to dance with, there’s always a shy teenage boy whose mother is thrilled when Beca asks if he’d like to dance with her.

She kind of likes trying to pull the shy ones out of their shells; probably because she had to be pulled out of her own.

There’s also the fact that there are so many pretty girls at weddings, and they’re all in pretty dresses with their pretty hair and pretty eyes and those who aren’t married are automatically in the mood for love, and hitting on bridesmaids is one of Beca’s favorite things because girls like when other girls compliment them, and once in awhile, one of those girls ends up in Beca’s bed at the end of the night.

She’s four cocktails in, having made a few rounds through the reception - talking to Aubrey and Jesse, grabbing a drink, talking to Chloe, grabbing a drink, talking to Amy and slamming back the shot of mystery liquor she was handed, talking to Emily and reassuring her that the demo she’d sent Beca to listen to was good despite the fact that Beca has already told her it was good no fewer than three times in the last week, and grabbing a drink.

It’s when she’s four cocktails in that she and the rest of the women - the unmarried ones, anyway - are prompted to cram into one spot on the dance floor and jostle one another to catch the bouquet that she’s elbowing and shouldering Chloe for position and making each other laugh.

Beca’s scrappy; she’s caught her fair share of bouquets no thanks to her height and all thanks to determination. She’s never been the next to get married in any of the scenarios despite the omen associated with the success, but she doesn’t care about that; she just wants to win.

Only this time she loses to Chloe who’s whooping and smiling and holding the caught bouquet high above her head like a trophy. There’s a chorus of oohs and the comments about how now she has to get married and Chloe just laughs and rolls her eyes and Beca walks her back to the head table so she can set down the flowers.

“Well, you know what they say…” she teases as they walk.

Chloe laughs. “I doubt I’ll be getting married anytime soon.”

“No? Don’t have your eye on anyone?” She knows Chloe’s in a rare period of singledom, and if she hadn’t repeatedly declared that it was empowering and that it was by choice, Beca would never tease her about it. They don’t see each other as often as they once did; Beca moved to New York after graduation following her internship to a real job, and Chloe ended up in Nashville. Beca’s work took her there with some frequency, and Chloe made it a point to take at least one trip to New York every year, but Beca missed her. It was kind of impossible to miss someone like Chloe Beale after she infiltrates your life the way she did Beca’s.

“No more than usual, I guess,” Chloe answers with a shake of her head as she sets the bouquet on the table at her place.

Beca doesn’t quite understand that answer, her brain starting to be a little fuzzy, but she thinks the implication is that Chloe’s had her eye on someone for a long time, but has grown weary of it. Maybe it’s the four drinks or the offense she takes at someone having the audacity to turn down Chloe, but Beca feels a little saucy. She hasn’t hit on a bridesmaid yet tonight.

Yet.

“What about you?” Chloe continues when she turns and leans against the table. She’s gorgeous; that’s old news to Beca. But Aubrey’s put her in a grayish lavender dress that reminds Beca of something a garden nymph might wear. Her stunningly red hair is longer than Beca’s ever seen it and it’s all pulled to hang over Chloe’s right shoulder, guided and held there by a trio of braids.

“What about me?” she says, wondering if it was obvious she was staring and maybe not really caring if it was.

“Do you have your eye on anyone?”

She hesitates for the briefest of moments as she runs a thousand scenarios through her buzzed mind, and then nods. “Yeah, I have my eye on someone.”

“Really?” Chloe pushes away from the table, surprised. “Who?”

“You.” She winks when she says it and part of her can’t believe that of all the bridesmaids in the world, and of the five options she has tonight, it’s Chloe who’s become the unwitting target of Beca’s fun. But another part of her kind of thinks maybe she’s known all along it would be Chloe tonight.

Chloe throws her head back in her usual style of wild laughter as she gives Beca’s shoulder a shove and tells her she’s a dork, and then takes Beca’s hand and walks them toward the bar which Beca bumps into when she forgets to stop walking. She was kind of distracted by Chloe holding her hand; it’s not as though it was the first time - it’s probably the 4,791st time. But it’s been awhile since the last time, and Chloe’s so pretty tonight, and Beca’s just really happy, and her hand feels nice in Chloe’s.

“Easy there, tiger,” Chloe says with her other hand moving to Beca’s hip to first pull her back a half step from the bar and then rub where it had collided with the bar. “How many have you had?”

“Either too many or not enough,” she says with a confident nod. She still feels saucy, and now a little silly, and her skin is on fire where Chloe’s hand had rubbed away the pain and that’s a new thing. Chloe’s touches always leave her a little fluttery, but the actual heat was a recent development. Like, a tonight development.

Chloe eyes her for a moment and Beca knows she’s evaluating Beca’s inebriation; they’d both become experts at judging one another over the years - a requirement to surviving college with the astounding number of parties they found themselves at. Beca holds her stare and then Chloe turns to the bartender and orders a pair of vodka cranberries.

They make small talk as they meander around the room - small talk with Chloe is never really small talk, but since they do talk in some way every day, there isn’t a massive catch-up conversation needed. They talk about the wedding and how pretty Aubrey’s dress is and their surprise performance that is mere minutes away which has them both slamming their drinks quicker than they'd have liked because Amy is on the stage stealing the mic from the band, which means it's showtime.

Beca's missed performing with Chloe. They'd only run through tonight's performance twice last night when everyone had been able to escape their pre-wedding responsibilities, all other rehearsals taking place via Skype and FaceTime and singing along to voice memos of one another and everyone else.

Chloe had asked Beca to put together an arrangement of “Jessie’s Girl,” and “I’ll Make Love To You,” which Beca found odd on a few levels - mainly that they were going to sing a song about wanting to steal their best friend from her husband of less than a day and the boys were going to sing about sleeping with her. But it was also meant to be funny and a way to acknowledge that the couple was moving on to the next chapter of their life and that they would miss them both.

It was somewhere around the time Beca was listening to Chloe singing a harmony on Skype that she realized it wasn't the first time she'd heard Chloe singing the girls’ song. She'd caught snippets of her humming it many times, over many years, and Beca knew the song was an earworm but right now as they warm up by singing the chorus quietly to one another, their backs to Aubrey, that she wonders if there was a reason other than it being a catchy tune.

Chloe smiles at her when their harmony resonates; Chloe was always a sucker for a perfect harmony. Not that Beca isn’t, but Chloe's eyes always lit up when they found it, and Beca kind of lived for those moments.

Maybe, she thinks as they mingle by the stage trying to not be super obvious as the rest of the Bellas and Treblemakers she graduated with were also suspiciously near the stage, she kind of wants to see Chloe’s eyes light up like that every day.

She doesn’t have a chance to get caught up in the thought because the moment Amy thumps the microphone on her chest to send feedback screeching through the room, Aubrey shrieks at an equal volume in a different key because she’s figured out what’s about to happen. Instead, Beca leads their now-co-ed group through the performance that is as silly as it is heartfelt, and Beca knows it’s going to end up on YouTube in 30 seconds and it’s going on Snapchat in real time, but she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care that an imperfect, under-rehearsed performance is going to go viral, because she’s singing with Chloe and Aubrey is crying and Jesse is misty-eyed, and the fact that the two long-rivaled groups have called a truce for tonight in honor of their former captains tying the knot makes her feel like there’s hope in this fucked up world.

Trite as the impetus might be, she feels it.

Her hand is in Chloe’s, as is required for the final steps of the performance, when it’s over and they take their bows and Aubrey rushes them both, nearly knocking them off their feet hugging them both at the same time.

“Thank you,” Aubrey says, crying into both their shoulders. “That was amazing.”

They hug her back, and then Aubrey swaps places with Jesse and he’s hugging both of them and Beca takes a second to glance at Chloe when it happens and she can see the tiniest hint of tension in the corner of her mouth, a smile that’s not quite as genuine as it could be.

When the excitement of the performance has finally passed, Beca decides to grab Chloe’s hand again and pull her away from their old classmates so they can actually hear one another.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” she tells Chloe when they sit down at an empty table toward the back of the reception hall. She doesn’t let go of Chloe’s hand, instead scooting her own chair close enough so it’s comfortable to maintain that connection.

“Oh.” Chloe looks down for a moment, at their hands, and then looks up again. Beca thinks she might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with the dim mood lighting that’s descended upon the party as the hour creeps later. “Thank you.” She smiles, and then in what seems like an unplanned of rush of words, adds, “So do you. Really pretty.”

It makes Beca smile. “Thanks. So...when are you flying out? Tomorrow?”

“Monday night,” Chloe answers with a shake of her head. “You?”

“Me, too. What are you, um...what are you going to do while you’re here?” She feels a little weird, like internally itchy, but she likes it.

“I don’t know; figured I’d ask the hotel concierge for some recommendations in the morning. You know how I don’t like to plan everything when I travel.”

“No, I know.” They both laugh because Chloe’s definitely referring to the last time she visited New York and refused to tell Beca anything she wanted to do while there, resulting in Beca going nuts trying to figure out how to plan anything whatsoever and breaking down in tears when Chloe said she wanted to go somewhere on the west side of Manhattan when they were on the east side, and it was a weekend, and the transit system was super fucked up. “Maybe we can hang out?”

“Totes!” Chloe says as she takes a sip of the drink a waiter’s brought for them. She keeps her eyes on Beca, though, and it makes her feel a little like she’s in a fishbowl.

But she kind of likes Chloe’s eyes on her. They are the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen, so what is there to complain about?

“Your eyes are like...fucking blue, dude,” she says, and the line doesn’t form quite as smoothly as it had in her head, but it was an okay start.

Chloe’s brows go high in surprise but she smiles. “I’ve been told.”

“Like the ocean.”

“The ocean is blue, yes,” Chloe says with a wider smile.

“And baby, I’m lost at sea.” That one came out exactly as she’d planned it and she watches the amused confusion slide over Chloe’s face.

“What?” Chloe asks with a laugh.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Beca says, winding her free hand like she’s trying to move time forward, “you’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line.”

“Beca…” Chloe’s smile fades a little, “are you...are you hitting on me?”

“Why, is it working?” She squeezes the hand she’s still holding. She’s kind of swinging for the fences right now and thinks it might actually be working.

Chloe’s confusion seems to grow and she shifts in her seat and starts to reclaim her hand but Beca holds tight to it. “Are you being serious right now? Because -”

“Completely.” Beca drops whatever cocky or smug look she knew she had on her face because this is suddenly very serious.

“What...I don’t...huh?” Chloe seems lost and looks a little like she might pass out as she fans her face and then holds her hand to her forehead.

Beca feels lightheaded, too, not expecting her day to go this route, but something about the wedding and the singing and the reconnection had tripped a wire. “Go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Chloe seems to deflate at that. “You’re asking me on a date?” Her voice is meek and Beca’s not quite sure how to read her reactions to all this and she’s about to start worrying when Chloe perks up with the suddenness of toast from a toaster. “You’re asking me on a date?!” she repeats, all the enthusiasm typical of Chloe now back in her voice.

“Yeah, dude,” Beca says with a laugh, relieved that the embarrassment she felt looming seconds away got shooed away with Chloe’s adjusted reaction.

Chloe’s sitting ramrod straight in her chair. “Like, a date-date. A romantic date?”

Beca nods. “A romantic date. Maybe even with a kiss goodnight.” She knows she blushes when she says it, but she’s just drunk enough to be holding this conversation she wants to have and doesn’t care if she blushes because she’s being honest.

She hears a squeal and doesn’t have time to prepare for Chloe flinging herself into her lap, arms around her neck and lips on hers.

It’s a sound, firm kiss, one they’ve shared innumerable times over the years but Chloe hovers when it ends, and she’s grinning at Beca from her perch in her lap and Beca feels warm and tingly and every place their bodies are connected is on fire, especially her lips that desperately want to feel Chloe’s again.

“Or...we could...move that kiss goodnight up a few hours…?” Beca edges.

“To tonight?” Chloe whispers, and though the room is loud they’re close enough that Beca hears her and she nods. “Okay.”

This time when Chloe’s lips touch hers it’s different. It’s soft and cautious and exploratory and Beca can feel Chloe’s fingernails tickling the back of her neck along her hairline to make her shiver and it prompts her to wrap her arms around Chloe’s waist and hug her close.

When Chloe’s other hand makes an appearance, it’s at Beca’s cheek to tilt her head just a touch so their mouths meet at a better angle. It’s a true, real kiss, and their first of such, and Beca can feel it all the way to her toes. She sighs and that’s when she feels the tip of Chloe’s tongue graze her lip and so much anticipation rushes through her she almost forgets to do more than just open her mouth for it and actually keep kissing her. But only almost, because she could never forget to kiss Chloe, not after this moment and the way Chloe’s tongue teases over hers before retreating and instead offering featherlight kisses until it’s back with a vengeance and Beca actually groans at how good she is.

A shout of, “Bhloe’s real!” startles both of them and though her vision is slow to focus she knows it’s Amy who yelled it, is still yelling it, and is accentuating her yelling by pounding her fists on the table.

“Oh my God,” she groans, letting her head fall forward to rest against the hollow of Chloe’s throat, and because she thinks it’s probably totally allowed now, presses a kiss to her chest a few short inches away from the line of cleavage that’s been teasing her most of the night. “Why? Why does she do this?”

“She wouldn’t be Amy if she didn’t.” She feels Chloe kiss the top of her head and then she’s moving off Beca’s lap to stand. “Fine! Yes. Okay? Amy, are you happy?” Chloe’s shouting right back but she’s not mad, just joining in Amy’s fun.

“All you pitches owe me so much cash! With interest!” Amy’s already gone to make the rounds and shake down their friends to pay up on the bet Beca knows was made on her fate with Chloe.

Chloe’s hands are on her hips watching their friends talk, point, gasp, laugh, nod, and dig through their purses and wallets and she says over their shoulder, “They had a bet on whether or not we’d hook up?”

“Looks like it.”

“For how long?”

“Since Beca’s audition,” Cynthia Rose says as she passes by, also collecting her winnings. She’d bet in their favor as well, apparently.

Chloe laughs at her response and then she’s turning with a sigh and dropping back onto Beca’s lap but Beca catches her before she’s settled.

“Let me up.”

“What? Why?” Chloe asks with a pout.

“Because I have to collect on the bet I just won so I can take someone out on a killer date tomorrow.” She slides out from under Chloe with a smirk that she kisses Chloe with once they’re both standing.

Chloe catches her hand before she gets far. “You bet on us?”

She smiles easily, feeling every bit like she’s hit the jackpot tonight. “Always bet on a sure thing, babe.”

Beca had always loved weddings.

#bechloe #fanfic #bechloe fanfic #brittany-snodes

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malecsecretsanta · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @notrightnow01!

I hope you enjoy your gifts and have an amazing Christmas!

Summary: Two AU’s and one non-AU all about everybody’s favorite ship, Malec.

Read on AO3

*****

it’s raining here

It all started during the passing period between third and fourth period.

Alec was walking Magnus to his history class, telling him about how Maia called out a homophobic kid in their chemistry class. Magnus was smiling throughout the story, both because he was proud of Maia (as usual) and how happy he was in that moment (as usual).

When the pair reached Magnus's next class, Alec rested his hands on his boyfriend's hips and licked his lips before he planted a kiss on Magnus's lips. People always stared, but that never stopped them. It clearly never stopped Clary and Jace whenever they made out in the halls.

"I will be here to walk you to lunch after class, okay?" Alec promised to his boyfriend.

Magnus chuckled. "Just like you are here everyday. I'll be waiting," Magnus said with a grin plastered on his face__.

Magnus stood on his tippy toes to kiss Alec's cheek before he grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. Magnus, still holding his boyfriend's hand, was slowly walking into his classroom, letting go of Alec's hand. But before he could enter, Catarina quickly appeared and hooked their arms together, taking Magnus to who knows where. Alec smirked as he watched the pair walked off, and he went to his next class.

On his way there, Alec saw the blonde hair of his brother, who seemed very occupied with sucking Clary's face. Alec walked up to the pair, who were right outside of his next class. Alec coughed, and watched the pair turn around to face him.

"Oh, hey Alec," Clary said as he approached them.

"Hi Clary, you and Jace sucking face again?" Alec asked with a sarcastic tone.

Clary playfully rolled her eyes as Jace spoke up.

"Can you stop teasing me about this? You and Magnus kiss in the halls all the time."

"Yeah but we don't suck the life out of each other' faces, unlike you to do," Alec retorted.

"We do not!"

"Hey, I am sorry you have privileges as a heterosexual!" Alec said through laughs.

But before Jace could say another word, the loudest noise that Alec ever heard echo down the hall.

It felt like it all happened in slow motion.

Jace's facial expression changed from blissful to absolutely terrified. Clary did the same. Everyone around them screamed and started running into classrooms. Doors were being locked and alarms were going off.

Alec, Jace, and Clary were shoved into their classroom before Alec could process what was going on.

After the trio was forced into the room, the door was locked by their teacher, Mr. Starkweather. Other kids were closing the blinds and a very familiar face turned the lights off. Isabelle turned around and Alec breathed out a sigh of relief.

Alec ran over to Isabelle and hugged her tightly when he realized what was going on.

Loud noise. Widespread panic. Turning off the lights. Hiding in classrooms.

Another bang went off, closer to them this time. Alec gasped in fear as he let go of Izzy and slid down to the floor, crawling to the far corner of the room where Jace and Clary were. His sister followed behind him when it hit Alec.

There was someone in the school with a gun and Alec didn't see Magnus go into his next class. Magnus could be in danger.

Alec's breath quickend. His heart started to beat faster out of fear. He started to become more and more pale. Everyone around him was freaking out, but not as much as Alec was.

Isabelle turned around to see Alec freaking out. She reached out to touch his arm.

"Alec? It's okay, we are gonna be okay," Izzy asurred him quietly.

"No, no Izzy, it's not going to be okay," Alec retorted. Izzy gave him a look of concern as she moved closer.

"We are safe in here," Izzy responed.

"It's not myself who I'm worried about," Alec said before pausing, "it's Magnus. I walked him to class but Catarina took Magnus elsewhere. I don't know where he is, Iz. He could be hurt!"

Izzy kept on stroking Alec's arm, trying to calm him down.

"Where's your phone? Why don't you text him?" Izzy suggested. Alec pulled his phone out of his back pocket and texted Magnus.

"Where are you? Please tell me you are okay," Alec typed and send to Magnus.

Another gunshot was fired, this time it sounded further away.

It wasn't Magnus, It wasn't Magnus, Alec told himself. It wasn't him.

----------

Alec chuckled as he spun Magnus around, pulling him back into his chest when he turned to face Alec again.

The pair was dancing in Alec's backyard. Alec had set up fairy lights all over the fences and made Magnus dinner for their date night. A while ago, Alec connected his phone to a speaker and started playing a playlist Magnus had made for them. When a Sam Smith song came on, Alec stood up and offered his boyfriend his hand, smiling. Magnus accepted, and they have been dancing since then.

Alec pulled Magnus back into his chest and looked lovingly into his eyes. God, how much he loved his eyes. It's like the held they entire universe behind their chocolate brown color. Alec could stare at them for hours.

One of Magnus's hands moved up to caress the side of Alec's face as Alec had his hands on Magnus's waist while they slowly swayed to the beat of the song.

"This is perfect. You're perfect," Magnus exclaimed, as the lighting from the fairy lights and the moon glistened against his face.

"Only for you, sweetheart," Alec replied, kissing his forehead.

"I love it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Call me cute things. I know it sounds cliche, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

Alec smiled and blushed a little bit. "You are so adorable. Especially when you wear my hoodies. They make you look very cuddleable. Not that you don't look cute and cuddley all the time, it just that-" Alec rambled until Magnus cut him off with a kiss.

They rested their foreheads together, taking in each other. Alec smiled and peppered kisses all over Magnus's face, which caused Magnus to blush and giggled.

"God I love you so much," Alec confessed, pulling Magnus closer to his chest, gently moving his fingers across Magnus's back.

"I love you too."

----------

It had been about fourty minutes since Alec had first texted Magnus, and he had gotten no respone yet. Alec's heartbeat was going faster than it had even gone before, and he has never felt this afraid in his life. Izzy, Jace, and Clary have been trying their best to calm him down while they panic as well.

It was when the usual and familiar sound of the overhead speaker put everyone (slightly) at ease.

"Students and staff, our school has been confirmed clear. You are all free to leave the building. Please stay safe when getting home," the principal explained.

Alec was the first to leave the classroom. He grabbed his backpack, held his phone in his hand, and sprited out of the classroom as fast as he could. He screamed for Magnus, and texted him while he ran down hallways and into classrooms with students filing out of them.

When Alec couldn't find Magnus anywhere in the building, he ran outside to find a sea of students. He didn't care who stared at him, Alec kept shouting for his boyfriend. Alec saw no ambulences, which hopefully meant that nobody was harmed.

"Alec!"

Alec turned around to see Magnus standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at him.

In that moment, everything was alright. Alec's heartbeat was still beating quickly, but not out of fear. He sighed when he saw Magnus, and he ran over to him.

Alec hugged him tighter than he ever had before. Magnus breathed heavily into Alec's shoulder. When the two pulled away, Alec struggled to find his words.

"Magnus, Magnus I thought something terrible happened to you. You never responded to my texts and I didn't know where you were and I wasn't sure if you were safe or not and I-"

Magnus had attached his lips to Alec's, gracefully and gentley, to reassure Alec that he was okay and that they were okay.

When Magnus pulled away, he cupped Alec's face in his hands.

"We survived Alec. We are alright."

silly love songs (shape who we are)

Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood were two completely different people.

The so called popular and sport personality belonged to Alec. He was on their school's football team, and his proudest achievement was his letterman jacket that displayed the red and white school colors. Alec was popular, but he only had inner circle friends and loved his friends and family more than anything. While most of his peers thought he carried the standard jock stereotype, he's a huge poetry nerd who also has a soft spot for cats.

While Magnus on the other hand was very flamboyant and expressive. He was never seen without any kind of glitter on him, and he always gets compliments on his outfits. If you saw him, you would understand. No matter how much he loves fashion and gossip, he will always go out of his way to do things for the issues and people he cares about.

Seems like an odd pairing, right?

Well, they beg to differ.

Every morning, Alec drives to Magnus's house to pick him up for school. He honks twice, and Magnus skips out of his house, running up to the drivers side of Alec's car. Alec rolls down his window, and Alec gives him a quick peck before Magnus gets into the passenger seat and they belt out the lyrics to whatever is on the radio.

When the pair get to school, they walk in hand in hand, grins on their faces and talking about whatever comes to their minds. (Well, sometimes they get a bit distracted with each other in the back of Alec's car and they have to sprint to class).

They use whatever time they have in between classes to see each other. They loosely hold hands, laugh at funny memories, and glare at the homophobic kids who always glare at them.

But either of them could argue that lunch is the best time of day.

Alec walks down the stairs from his biology class into the lunchroom and instantly sees his friend group. Simon, Maia, and Izzy are having an intense discussion with Clary, Jace was listening to the conversation as well, but he clearly wasn't being invited in any time soon. Ragnor and Catarina were arguing, probably over who has the better camp on Animal Crossing. Alec didn't know them too well until things became serious with Magnus, and they have been welcomed to their friend group ever since.

Alec found a seat next to Maia as she was expressing how cute dogs are while Clary prepared a response, but got distracted when she started telling Alec about how Jace almost choked on a candy bar during second period. They all laughed at Jace's pain while he yelled at them. Alec found it funny.

"Clary dared me to eat it as fast as I could! It's not my fault!" Jace protested as Simon and Maia were laughing, Simon slamming his hands on the table.

"That most definitely sounds like your fault, blondie," Magnus said as he approached their table, wearing a black blazer with red roses printed on it, black leather pants, and boots with a slight heel.

"Hey babe," Alec greeted his boyfriend as he kissed his cheek when he sat down next to him.

"Wow you two are disgustingly cute," Maia exclaimed, and Alec looked at her in confusion. She laughed.

"You know better than to disrespect the best couple in school, Maia," Simon said as he took a French fry from Jace.

"It was a compliment in the highest order!" Maia responded, taking the French fry from Simon and eating it, which resulted in Simon throwing his hands up in protest.

It was times like this with their friends that they really cherished. Moments like this won't last forever, and they made the best of their high school years.

Magnus and the gang would always get ready for football games at Magnus's house, wearing face paint and scarfs and jackets with school colors on them. Magnus always wore Alec's letterman jacket, it was his favorite piece of Alec's clothing. They were always the loudest in the stands, and when their team won the championships, Magnus ran down to the field and Alec kissed him in front of the entire team and school. Nobody cared though, expect for their friends who cheered even more and wolf whistled at the pair.

For Valentine's Day, Alec received a Val-O-Gram in every single class from Magnus, which was quiet cheesy, but Alec loved it nonetheless. When Alec went to pick up Magnus for school, he had a giant teddy bear in the back of his car for Magnus. They spent the whole day spoiling each other, and ended the day with dinner at Alec's house and them having a movie marathon of terrible high school dramas.

Every Saturday is the day when Magnus spends the day with Alec, and usually ends up spending the night. Sometimes they spend all day exploring the city, going to cute little bookstores and cafes. Other times Magnus steals Alec's grey hoodie and they stay inside, cuddling while they watch Supernatural and Project Runway. Alec will run his figures through Magnus's hair and kiss his forehead and fingers while he holds Magnus tightly.

It's the little things like this that build their relationship to be as strong as it is. Seeing Alec and Magnus together so openly helped other students accept who they were and feel comfortable in their own skin. Who knows what the two of them will do when they graduate, but they will not leave each other's sides for the rest of their life.

raindrops and file reports

Magnus's morning was a blur. Thinking back about it made him smile, as everything happened so fast.

He awoke to the quiet patter of raindrops falling against the window of his bedroom, along with Alec planting soft kisses all over his face. Magnus saw Alec's bright smile as he fluttered his eyes open, and gave him a proper "good morning" kiss.

As much as Magnus wanted to stay in bed and cuddle his beautiful boyfriend, but after looking at the time, he realized he had a client in an hour. He kissed Alec's nose before he tried to sit up, but Alec's arms that were wrapped around Magnus's torso pulled him back into bed as he mumbled "Stay" into Magnus's neck.

Magnus chuckled as he slid back down into bed, intertwining his legs with Alec's.

"Fifteen more minutes," Magnus stated, and Alec hummed in response.

All that was exchanged from the two was kisses and the words "I love you" that meant so much to both of them that butterflies couldn't help but make themselves present.

It took the Shadowhunter some convincing, but the two finally got out of bed. Alec took a quick shower and got dressed while Magnus made their breakfast.

Alec entered the dining room to see Magnus serving breakfast, and swiftly kissed his boyfriend before sitting down across from him.

They discussed what their plans were for the day, and what they wanted to do for dinner and how they would spend their evening.

They finished up breakfast and Alec put his black boots on that were resting near the front door of the loft. Magnus walked over and kissed Alec goodbye, mumbling an "I love you" against his lips. The Shadowhunter replied once he pulled away, and kissed him one last time before opening the door and closing it quietly, making his way to the Institute. Magnus offered to make him a portal, but Alec refused, not wanting to drain Magnus of his magic this early.

Now, Magnus was sat on one of his couches, finally dressed, scrolling through emails regarding the Pandemonium. His client had just left and he was fed up with them, even after a couple minutes. He really wished something would give him an excuse to get out of dealing with work, since there is so much that he would rather be doing.

He decided to text Alec to see if he was available for lunch, since he wanted to get his mind off of things. When he sent the text, he heard the familiar sound of Alec's phone from their bedroom. Magnus stood up slowly and wandered into their shared bedroom to see Alec's phone on the right bedside table.

Without hesitation, Magnus quickly picked up Alec's phone and slipped it into the pocket of his coat, and quickly created a portal. He stepped through it, not feeling the slightest bit of nausea before he came face to face with the Institute.

Magnus entered swiftly to see Shadowhunters everywhere, not to his surprise. Some where carrying files, some were chatting, and some were in full battle gear, ready to go demon hunting.

But only one Shadowhunter truly caught his eye. Alec was stood in the middle of the Ops Center at the head of a table, leaning over it. His hands were placed on the table, and his head was hung low. Jace, Clary, and Isabelle were all standing at the table as well, and Jace seemed to be discussing something with the other three.

Magnus started walking over to the table, and Alec lifted his head up to reply to Jace. A wide grin was plastered onto his face when he saw Magnus approaching, and ran over to him. He wrapped his arms around Magnus's waist and picked him up, spinning him around. When Alec set Magnus back down, he kissed the warlock's cheek and nuzzled his head into Magnus's neck.

"I missed you," Alec mumbled against Magnus's cold skin.

"You left an hour ago," Magnus stated with a chuckle.

"An hour is too long," Alec replied as he moved his head up to face Magnus, putting his hands on the shorter man's waist. Magnus smiled up at Alec as he put his hands around Alec's neck and rolled up on his toes to give Alec a soft peck.

When Magnus pulled away, Alec pouted and leaned down to kiss him again. Alec pulled Magnus in closer and laughed into the kiss. Alec pulled away and strung out the sentence "I love you" between pecks.

"I love you more," Magnus replied, stroking Alec's face with his thumb, staring longingly into his eyes.

"Not possible," Alec stated quietly before they were interrupted by Jace clearing his throat. Alec pulled away from Magnus's embrace to face Jace.

"What?" Alec asked, throwing his hands up in confusion.

"Alec, we have demons to take care of," Jace replied, a blank look on his face.

"Says the boy who has 'book club' with Clary every so often. You guys are really loud, by the way," Alec retorted. Jace rolled his eyes as Clary blushed a very visible beet red.

"Plus, Magnus is here on business. Right Mags?" Alec stated as he turned to Magnus. The warlock nodded, going along with Alec.

"Jace, we can take care of the demons, let them have some fun," Isabelle interjected.

Alec cleared his throat and turned back to the three Shadowhunters.

"As the Head of The New York Institute, I send you, Jace, Clary, and Izzy to take care of the demons in the East Village. I have file reports to attend to, so you might as well be on your way before things get any worse down there," Alec ordered.

Jace and Clary left the Ops Center together, with Izzy trailing behind, winking at Alec and Magnus before following the couple. Alec turned back to Magnus, a slight grin on his face.

"If you planned on staying, I wasn't lying about the file reports. You can come back later if you would rather," Alec explained as Magnus chuckled.

"I would much rather stay here, and I actually came for a delivery," Magnus assured Alec as he pulled out the Shadowhunter's phone from his coat pocket.

"You left this at home," Magnus explained and stuck his phone in one of the pockets on Alec's jacket.

"Why, thank you," Alec expressed as he grabbed his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications.

"And yes, I will have lunch with you.”

#notrightnow01 #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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ificouldflytotheclouds · 4 years

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Skam Tag

So I am watching this video, a video I’ve definitely watched even if just in part in the past. I feel down the isak and even rabbit hole again, which makes me watch to rewatch skam, and potentially give one of the remakes a try (I’m skeptical, but more open then dec 2018 when I finished og skam).

Anyways, I wanted to follow along, and see if my answers change at all between now and when I rewatch the series (as if I’m not mistaken, I’ve only seen each season one time, despite really enjoying the show)

Favorite Character: Isak

Season 3 is without a questionable doubt my favorite, it was the reason I started to watch the show, like many others. I do wonder though if my answer had been the same if I started the show from season 1 with no spoilers? I feel like Isak would still be up there, he’s very soft and sweet, but he still enjoys himself, he’s intelligent, (and asks for help? am I pulling that out of my back pocket), he’s open to evolving as a character and acknowledges his mistakes or ignorance.

Looking back on #skam tag, Noora was one of my favorites upon the first watch, which kinda surprises me, but more so because Noora’s season was confusing and I still don’t know if I understand what happened. (so my confusion has more to do with the plot than the character)

Favorite Ship: Isak x Even

It’s hard to put into words why something is your favorite, but there was obviously a reason why the pictures of these two characters made me interested to watch the show.

To get the obvious out of the way: It’s a gay young couple, it’s first love. Something you don’t find as often in the media. While it is more prevalent in this century, this specific development of THEIR relationship is hard to find. As someone who now identifies as bisexual (but also does not care about labels for the most part) I wonder if this is why I was interested in this storyline, and why gay storylines have stood out to me. But again it’s not quite that (tangent time), I remember sophomore year of college there were girls in one of my classes that were really into boys love, and I didn’t understand why someone who was straight (From my knowledge) would be so into boys love, which made me question if it was being fetishized. But as they explained it, one of the girls said, it was because there is not the power dynamic as there automatically is in a heterosexual or heterosexual presenting couple. There was probably more that she said but that’s what I remember....

The script, the acting, is pure, it feels what I would imagine a first love would be. Even is patient with Isak and his coming out. The element of Even having a partner and Isak jealously is a complex storyline that adds to the build-up of them eventually becoming a couple. Going back to what my college classmate said, you can see that they are very similar, Even has a slightly more dominating role, but not overly so.... they compliment each other really well, and it feels and looks realistic.

When I was searching Isak and Even videos on youtube yesterday, I ran into the kiss cam video which I hadn’t seen before, and one of the comments (or rather, many of the comments) said that this was more tongue action than we saw all s3. But there is something pure about the fac that Tarjei is younger and Henrik is older, so in theory, Henrik would be more experienced... anyways.

Anyways, they’re cute and pure, one perk of the series ending 5 seasons early is we don’t see them break up. Or go through a new major hardship.

My second favorite would have to be Magnus and Vilde they’re cute.

Favorite Scene:

This one is more difficult for me to answer since I have only seen each season once and it has been over a year since I saw season 4 from what I remember these were my highlights: the ending scene of the series when everyone is together, isak coming out to Jonas, and the parallel universe scene.

Favorite Music Scene:

Lol I defs don’t remember anything...

Favorite Cast Member: Lisa Teige

Again, I don’t know. I never followed the actors too much/sometimes the language barrier is too much effort. But I will say Lisa Teige from her vibe.

Favorite Friendship: Eva and Noora

I talk a lot about Isak and Even here but the girl squad without the boys is nice.

Who would I want to date: Isak or Eva

I think 2016 me would have said Noora (and probably Isak). But I think I am too similar to Noora, and Eva is more of the energy I would want going into a relationship. She is more relaxed and adventurous. While Noora can be more serious at times, which is great but I think would be appreciated more as a friend.

Favorite thing about the show: Authenticity.

Like my original post from 2016, when I first started skam, I enjoy the show because it feels real, it feels less like a television show and more like you're actually looking into the lives of these characters. Down to things as simple as not covering up their makeup, and having longer transitions between scenes even if it’s not really exciting, but it can at time intensify the emotion of the scene, same go with the lack of music at times - which is a testament to the script and the acting, to be able to captivate an audience without the makeup, scenery, or drama.

(I wish I watched it live when it came out so I could appreciate the social media associated with the show, but 1) I don’t know the language (probs could found a twitter for that) 2) would’ve been so much easier in high school (minus the later depression killing my grades)

Season 4 main:

This tag is obviously pretty old because I’ve seen Sana as the season 4 main. If they hadn’t canceled I would have liked Vilde to be season 5 main.

Then in no particular order it would be nice to get these characters to have a main: Jonas, Even, Eskild, Chris Berg (girl), and Magnus (this would mean that Mahdi wouldn’t get a season but I mean, who wouldn’t want an Eskild season)

In this hypothetical land, there would be themes on parents, mental illness, weight?, academics?/future plans, and maybe someone who is struggling with drugs. Like obviously I love seeing the relationship side of the seasons (I say as if I actually liked Noora’s season, she got the worst ship of them all, no thanks, but she is a BA character so it kind of evens out), but if the show would really succeed they would have needed to continue to push topics (aka my topics were rudimentary as it is) (I keep going back and forth between tenses I am oh so sorry)

I think this is where Sana’s season really shined (While she is not my favorite character she had my season favorite season, she had a complex character, and we were able to have a good look at many aspects of her life and her thought process around such things.

With that said here is my ranking of the 4 seasons of skam:

1) Isak 2) Sana 3) Eva 4) Noora.

#skam #skam norsk #skam norway #skam tag #1/28/2020

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perksofbeingawaifu · 7 years

Text

caddy shack

in face melting heat, jean and eren discuss many things of extreme importance while ogling their supervisor levi. ererijean. this is just self indulgent sillies

“You know what I like?” Eren asked.

“Suckin’ dick?” Jean teased, but his heart was only half in it, he was too busy fanning himself on the bench in the caddy shack. The oppressive heat had sap leaching out of the wooden boards giving the place a sickly sweet smell. It was only slightly better inside, in the shade, than out on the course.

“Yes, but also…” Eren struggled upright, which was difficult with Jean draped over him. “Watching Levi drive around in the carts.”

“Mm,” Jean agreed.

The humidity was so overwhelming, Eren’s hair was curling around the brim of his baseball cap, which was unfair Jean thought. And Jean’s eyes looked very honey colored in the bright light thought Eren as he stuck a blade of grass in Jean’s ear only to have him slap it away. Out in the distance, the groan of Levi’s golf cart drew nearer.

“The wind tousling his silken locks.”

“Mhm.”

“The sound of the shocks crying out in pain as he speeds over the hills,” Eren continued wistfully.

“He likes speed that one,” Jean said, putting his hat over his eyes.

“The grinding noise the cart makes because he has no idea how to use the clutch,” Eren said as they heard the telltale sound of their boss swearing at the cart.

“He doesn’t need it, the carts simply obey. All bend to his will. I’ve seen him break a nine iron over his knee.”

“The way he squeals to a halt in front of the caddy shack,” Eren sighed as Levi hit the curb with some vehemence.

“It’s like peals of laughter,” Jean chorused.

“The way he says—“

“What are you little cock gobblers doing?” Levi snapped, kicking the bottom of the bench where they were thrown across.

“Ain’t no fish bitin’ boss,” Jean drawled, fanning himself with his hat.

Levi ripped it out of his hand and smacked the side of Jean’s head.

“The Reiss brothers are coming over with a big client and you’re the only ones still here, so it’s all hands on deck, put on some fucking deodorant—the real stuff not that cheap ass, dick cheese smelling Axe body spray,” Levi snapped and then went to dust off the nicer golf carts for the guests.

“How exactly does one gobble cock?” Jean asked philosophically.

“I think it’s like when you have a really big handful of popcorn and you just kindof shove it all in your face like so.” Eren’s demonstration was quite informative.

“I imagine it’s more like feeding an apple to a horse. You know how the horse’s lips kindof go wicker-wicker,” Jean wiggled his own full lips around as he picked up Rod Reiss’ golf clubs.

“You would think it’s like a horse, horse face,” Eren said kicking a clump of perfectly manicured onto Jean’s tennis shoes.

“You just like horse dick, horse gobbler,” Jean said, shoving Eren, and knocking the clubs Eren was carrying to the ground.

Levi’s head rotated around like a hawk and Jean hastily helped Eren pick them up.

“Nice shot, sir,” Eren praised Uri Reiss as he teed off, earning him a $5 tip.

The men piled in the cart and insisted on driving themselves, leaving Eren, Jean, and Levi in the shitty cart. Before Eren could board, Levi grabbed his ear.

“You kick another hole in this turf and I will grind you up in the woodchipper and then spread your guts as fertilizer for this beautiful lawn,” Levi hissed. “Now help me push this up the hill.”

Eren and Jean got out to shove it up the hill, while once again Levi refused to acknowledge the clutch on the dead cart. As they drifted down, the machine revved back to life with a sound like a leaf blower.

Eren and Jean gripped the sides as Levi rocketed down the hill. Eren’s knuckles were white, Jean crossed himself and uttered a prayer. Levi crested another hill and Jean braced for what he called “taint breakers,” aka the heavy way Levi’s cart would land. Eren cupped himself should he fall forward and break the family jewels on the shift stick.

“You know what I love?” Eren asked, teeth clattering as the machine attempted to use momentum to make it up the gravel hill.

“Taking it up the butt,” Jean guessed, eyes closed, wishing he had taken that Dramamine.

“Yes, but the pressed lines in his khakis.”

“The pleats do accentuate his package,” Jean agreed, hoping Levi couldn’t hear them over the roar of the motor.

They lurched to a halt and Jean fell off the cart and rolled on the grass, thankful to be on land again. Eren landed on him.

“Knock it off, I swear to god, you two spend more time on the ground than you do carrying clubs,” Levi said, digging his cleats into Jean’s belly.

Levi shouldered the client’s bag and then paused. “You know…I kindof thought cock gobbling was like…multiple dicks.”

“An interesting premise,” Jean said from the ground, ankles crossed behind him.

“Indeed,” Eren said, tucking a dandelion behind his ear.

“Now is that multiple dicks at once, or one at a time?” Jean asked, grabbing his own bag and dragging it behind him.

“Yes, a community of dicks, or a line of succession?” Eren mused.

“In which case, being a cock gobbler is something of a compliment,” Jean said, pulling out Uri Reiss’ putter.

“A multitasker,” Eren agreed.

They were very quiet as each of the men lined up a shot.

“Excellent sir, you’re under par,” Jean praised and received a $20.

No one kissed ass quite like Jean. When the elder Reiss brother’s back was turned, Jean licked the edge of the bill, flicking his tongue obscenely. Eren flipped him off.

“That’s nasty, money is dirty,” Levi said, wrinkling his nose.

The client missed another shot. He claimed the ball was the reason. Levi quickly wiped the grass off of his club with a towel.

“You know what I love?” Eren whispered, as the client lined up another shot.

“Dicks flying at you from every angle?”

“Yes, obviously, but I love how he cleans balls. Have you ever seen a man more dedicated to polishing balls?”

“You?” Jean suggested.

“It’s why we’re meant for one another Levi and I. Levi and me. Levi and I?”

Jean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter because Levi likes me.”

“Bullshit, I clean better than you.”

“You clean your asscrack, but you don’t clean clean.”

Levi looked over to see both Eren and Jean aggressively polishing their clubs. Jean put his between his legs and slid a rag up and down the shaft. Levi’s brow twitched. Jean finished and put the club away.

“No stamina. See? This is why Levi likes me better because I take my time, I’m thorough and—“ Eren added a lil spitshine to the club. “I make it sparkle—ow!”

Levi chucked a golf ball at his head. The muscle in his jaw was throbbing as he glared at them.

“QUIT FUCKING AROUND,” he mouthed.

There was another bumpy ride to the next hole.

“Levi I’m too motion sick to caddy,” Jean complained.

“Get your bony ass up,” Levi jabbed him with the client’s driver.

“Hi hi!” Christa cheered as she drove past them in the drink cart, the sound of hundreds of dollars of liquor clanking merrily. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

The client whistled appreciatively and ribbed Levi. “Look at that one. ‘Bout as ripe as a peach, don’t you think?”

Levi turned his long suffering gaze to Jean and Eren.

“Hi Daddy!” Christa cried, as Rod Reiss gave her a kiss on the temple. “Mint Julep? Uncle Uri?”

The client paled and Jean and Eren became very interested in the ground trying not to snort, but when the sleazy man’s back was turned, the two of them burst into laughter.

“Christa make us drinks,” Eren begged.

“No.”

“Christa make us hummers,” Jean pleaded, hanging off the edge of the cart.

“No, you know I can’t give you guys drinks. I’ll get in trouble. You’ll get in trouble.”

“Christa pleaseee,” Jean whined.

“Christaaa,” Eren hung off of her waist.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Wow,” said Eren, lifting up his shirt. “It’s like you forgot your friend. Mr. Bellyshot.”

“I still can’t believe I did that. Ymir was so mad.”

“Don’t feel bad, Christa,” Jean said, patting Eren’s flat and very tan stomach. “Everyone has had a shot off of this belly. It is a very slutty belly.”

“It’s true. I am not picky.”

“I haven’t,” Levi said, resting his elbows while the golfers clinked their glasses together.

“That can easily change,” Eren said, eyes growing bright. “Come to the bonfire with us tonight!”

Levi snorted. “If I wanted the taste of cheap vodka, pubes and bellybutton lint, I’d give it a try.”

“I have lots of other places you can do shots off of!” Eren insisted. “Check out the gunshow.”

He flexed. Levi only looked over him with a bored and flat expression.

“Christa, is this your beach ball?” Jean asked, holding an imaginary ball.

“IS THIS YOUR BEACH BALL?” Eren mimicked him, both now flexing for both Christa and Levi’s benefit.

“Is this your beach ball?” Jean continued strutting.

Levi sighed. “I don’t like drinking much. Okay, we’re on. Let’s go.”

“Jean,” Eren said, grabbing his arm. “I have had a sudden conversion. I am forsaking any and all alcohol as of this very moment. I will live life completely dry. It is my destiny.”

“Then I must as well. I bet I’ll go sober even better than you.”

“Not possible.”

“Why is everything a competition between you two?” Levi sighed.

At the next hole, the client (whose name they really should have known by now if they had been paying attention), was having a great deal of trouble. A double whiskey will do that to you.

“This stupid rental club is horrible,” he complained loudly. “Do you see how off balance it is?”

“Would you like me to retrieve a new driver from the clubhouse for you, sir?” Levi asked.

“You could borrow mine,” Uri offered.

“No thanks, I never touch another man’s clubs,” the client joked and the three of them guffawed.

“See Jean, the punchline is an implied homophobia. That touching another man’s club, because of the phallic shape of the object, it offers the suggestion that one could be gay should he thus grasp it. And by saying he won’t touch them, he is reinforcing his heterosexuality.”

“Gay panic as a joke. Revolutionary. A startling new concept,” Jean drawled.

“Do you see this club?” the client asked Levi.

“Yes, sir,” Levi nodded.

“Do you see how it’s weighted?” he held it up for Levi to examine.

“Looks fine to me, sir, but I’m not an expert,” Levi said evenly.

“Here, you give it a try,” he said holding it out to Levi.

“Oh no, sir, I couldn’t,” Levi insisted, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Here, take it,” the client said, forcing it into Levi’s hand. “Go on, the ball isn’t going to bite.”

For once Jean and Eren were quiet. They gave Levi a brief nod of silent support. Levi rolled his shoulders, looking behind him at Jean and Eren. Eren gave a thumbs up. Levi gave the smallest ghost of a smile.

“Oh god, he’s killed me,” Eren said clutching his heart.

And then Levi swung. His follow through and form were perfect, just like the guy on the PGA label. Jean let out a low whistle. They watched the little white ball land, bounce once and then roll merely a foot from the flag.

“Seems fine to me, sir,” Levi said innocently enough, handing the man back his club and retrieving a new ball for him.

“You know what I love?” Jean asked.

“Ass?” Eren guessed.

“Yes, more specifically Levi’s. And his shoulders. And abs.”

Eren fainted into Jean’s arms.

Levi didn’t get a tip. Eren drove them back to the caddy shack, his drive offered a surprising lack of gut wrenching turns and death drops and Jean’s motion sickness abated.

“I’m so tired, I can barely move,” Jean groaned, lying down on the grass.

“At least you two got paid. How much did you make?” Levi asked.

“$150 for the whole day,” Eren said.

“$180 but I think that extra thirty is because I gave Mrs. Kaczminski some stroke tips and let her grope my butt,” Jean said.

“How’d she even find it?” Eren asked, sitting on him. “It’s so bony. Feel that, now that’s a butt.”

“Levi!” Erwin called, jogging over.

“Erwin,” Levi acknowledged his boss as Eren and Jean rolled on the ground in an attempt to cover the other in grass stains.

Erwin gave a hesitant eye at the two figures on the ground, but simple stepped over them.

“My two best caddies,” Levi explained.

“So the only ones who bothered to show up and not reek of pot?”

“Bingo,” Levi grimaced. “Unfortunately this is the best I’ve got. Ignore them, their brains melted on the course hours ago.”

“It’s so hot, Erwin,” Eren complained.

“Yeah, high of 98F,” Erwin agreed. “I was surprised when the Reiss brothers showed up so late in the day, but apparently their client insisted. They told me what happened out on the course. Said you showed their guest up.”

Rather than offering reproach, Erwin looked proud.

“It was a gorgeous shot, I’m still tingling all over,” Eren sighed.

“Anyway, they said their guest didn’t bother to tip you, so they handed me this to give to you.”

Erwin held out an envelope.

“CASH! THE GOLDEN GOD!” Jean bellowed. “Shower me in bills Levi.”

“$200, nice,” Levi said, looking a great deal happier than he had before.

“You’d make a great instructor if you’re ever interested,” Erwin said as he left, waving behind him.

They helped Levi close down the shack and then, like always, it was Eren’s ritual to beg Levi to come hang out with them. He never did.

“Are you coming to the bonfire?” Eren asked hopefully, even as Jean rolled his eyes.

“Sure.” Levi shrugged.

“Really?” Eren’s eyes grew wide, Jean stopped in shock.

“Yeah, why not.”

Eren let out a whoop and then pretended his legs had given out.

“You’ll have to carry me to my car, Levi,” Eren begged.

To both his and Jean’s surprise, Levi did pick him up.

“Me next!” Jean bounced next to him.

“Here, but I’ll drive us,” Levi said, setting Jean down next to his car.

“Uh,” they both stalled, looking uncertain at Levi’s beat up Camry.

Levi’s driving was not any better in a real car than in a golf cart.

#ererijean #drabble #and then they went to the beach #where they found a real beach ball #IS THIS YOUR BEACH BALL #and then took turns sneaking kisses from levi #competing to see who is the better kisser #levi can't tell he needs more kisses to know #he really doesn't mind their antics #well off the clock he doesn't mind #i could have written like 6k more words of this nonsense

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