#preppy fall haul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xiaq · 7 months

Text

Steddie Time Travel Fixit: Pt. 6

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7

Steve wears the Hellfire shirt.

He wears it half tucked in to a pair of tight distressed jeans with black lace-up shitkicker boots, both of which Eddie knows Steve has never worn to school before because he would have fucking remembered.

His hair is just as stupidly teased as usual, but paired with the rest of him it looks a whole lot less preppy and a whole lot more like he should have a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a leather jacket over his shoulder.

And Eddie knows that he should be focused on whatever the hell is happening with the kids and Hopper and the fact that Steve apparently has war flashbacks involving D&D characters but all that mystery falls to the wayside when the former reigning jock king is walking around the hallways like a living breathing wet dream in a shirt Eddie created.

Eddie is but a man.

Distractible.

Fallible.

Horny.

Steve catches him staring from down the hall and gives him a lazy two finger salute, grinning with the kind of ease that comes from being attractive and knowing it.

It should be infuriating.

It is not.

“Is this a dream?” Gareth says, drawing even with Eddie. “This has to be a dream, right? No way is Steve fucking Harrington wearing a Hellfire shirt.”

“I don’t know about you,” Eddie says faintly, “but if this was my dream he wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Look at him,” Eddie insists. Ever since that time at Jeff’s last year when the band was all high and Eddie got a little too honest, they’ve all sort of ignored the fact that Eddie is gay. They don’t ask him about girls and he doesn’t talk to them about guys. But this is…a special circumstance.

And it’s fine. Because Eddie is not the only person looking. Everyone is looking—some with sneers or confusion but most with envy or probably equal amounts of the lust that Eddie is currently trying to subdue. Even the straightest guy in the world has to admit that Steve is—

“Yeah,” Gareth says. “I mean no, still gross because it’s Harrington, but yeah I can see how—no. Never mind. I’m going to class.” Gareth pauses. “Wait. Do you think he’s going to sit with us at lunch?”

He sits with them at lunch.

Eddie more or less sleepwalks through his morning classes and leaves History before the bell so he can get to the lunchroom first and he does not save Steve a seat. He has no expectations when he enters the cafeteria. No hopes related to the company he’ll keep while consuming his soggy PB&J. He just has a jacket that ends up on the seat next to him and when Jeff tries to move it he maybe glares at him a little.

When Steve moves the jacket so he can sit down, Eddie does not glare.

“Fucking figures,” Jeff mutters.

Eddie is never going to live this down and he doesn’t even care.

“Nice shirt, big boy,” he says, because apparently Eddie’s mouth is just saying things.

Steve stills. For a moment, Eddie is reminded of the night before–of terror and gasped breathing. But then, just as quickly, he’s grinning at Eddie like some sort of sunshine creature, like joy incarnate, plucking at the tight fabric straining across his chest.

“I dunno, I don’t think I’m particularly big, it’s not my fault you gave me such a small size.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Eddie retorts.“Everyone who signed up at the beginning of the year got one custom made,” he gestures to the guys as proof before drumming his fingers against Steve’s shoulder. “This’s one of mine and the most exercise I get is hauling amps and running from cops.”

Steve reaches over to wrap his hand around Eddie’s bicep and it’s Eddie’s turn to go still under the heat of his palm and the weight of his attention. Steve meets his eyes for a fleeting second before they flick down to his own fingers. Steve squeezes.

“You seem plenty fit to me.”

“Amps,” Eddie repeats. It’s a little breathless. It’s fine.

“Jesus christ,” Jeff mutters.

Steve’s hand is still on his arm when nearly half the basketball team approaches, detouring to stop on their way to their standard table.

He wouldn’t say that a hush falls over the cafeteria but there are certainly a lot of eyes suddenly on their table. And not much talking.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” one of them––Eddie doesn’t know, nor does he care to know, his name––says. “You ditched us for the freaks?” He looks genuinely baffled, which Eddie has to admit is fair. “Is this some kind of joke? Does Munson have something on you?”

Steve leans away from the table, hand moving from Eddie’s arm to the back of his chair, he hitches his opposite elbow on the back of his own chair. He kicks one foot up to brace on the table leg. It’s the stereotypical jock position: chest wide, staking a possessive claim, except Eddie isn’t a cheerleader.

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Steve says.

“Dude, whatever it is,” the guy’s eyes linger on Eddie in a way that Eddie really does not like, “we can take care of it.”

Steve sighs.

It’s long and loud and purposeful.

“Listen, I feel like maybe Hagan hasn’t held up his end of our bargain, so let me make this as clear as I can and we can all be mature about it. Ah––” he interrupts himself, raising his voice a little, “No, hey. Look at me. All of you.” His tone is calm and level and patronizing in a way that Eddie knows would be infuriating if it was directed at him.

“I need you to understand,” he says slowly, making eye contact with each of them in turn, “That I’m not joking. I’m not posturing. If you touch Eddie, if you touch anyone at this table, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than passing your driving test or making the starting lineup. There are people in the world with real problems and if you fuck with any of my new friends, you’re going join them.”

A couple scoff. Tommy, near the back, is distinctly silent. And without their usual ringleader, no one else volunteers to step forward as the aggressor.

“What happened to you, man?” One of the guys says instead.

Steve sighs again. It feels more genuine this time. “I grew up,” he says. “I recommend it.”

And then he just…waves them off, like he’s tired.

And they leave.

The group retreats to their own table in a wake of low murmurs, and everyone lets out a collective exhale.

Except for Steve, who is leaning into Eddie’s space again.

“You were weirdly quiet through that,” Steve murmurs, pushing Eddie’s hair over his shoulder so he can whisper in his ear. It’s an entitled gesture. The heat of his breath, fanned against Eddie’s neck, sends goosebumps down his arms.

“If I’m mouthy, it tends to just piss people off,” Eddie mutters back. “And I’m trying not to cause trouble for you seeing as you seem to create plenty for yourself.”

“Do what you want,” Steve says easily. “I know how to fight.”

Eddie tells his dick to calm the fuck down.

Now is not the time.

“Besides,” Steve whispers, even quieter, lips practically against Eddie’s ear, “I think I prefer you mouthy.”

Fuck.

This is flirting, right? It has to be flirting.

He makes frantic eye contact with Jeff and––yeah, judging by the expression on Jeff’s face Eddie is not making shit up. Steve Harrington is hitting on him. In the school cafeteria.

“Oh hey,” Steve says abruptly, turning to pull a Tupperware container out of his stuffed full backpack. “I made cookies last night if you guys want some.”

“Cookies?” Gareth says faintly.

“Yeah, peanut butter chocolate chip. The kids I babysit wanted some so I made a double batch to share. They’re good, I promise. And I substituted applesauce for some of the sugar and oil so they’re not as unhealthy as they could be––but don’t tell the kids that.”

He peels off the lid and Eddie is hit with the second-most heavenly smell he’s ever encountered. The first may or may not be Steve Harrington himself, who is now handing him one of the cookies. Eddie takes it wordlessly, watching as Steve stands to carry the container around to everyone else.

Gareth leans across the table so only Eddie can hear him. “How confused is your boner right now?” Gareth whispers.

Eddie suppresses a slightly hysterical whine. “Oh, are we talking about this? We don’t need to talk about this.”

“I think we’re going to have to if he keeps this shit up.”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, no. I’ll be fine. I just need to…get my head straight.”

“Good luck with that.” Gareth takes a bite of his cookie, “Oh, damn, these are good.”

Eddie eats his own cookie and tries not to moan about it.

He’s fine. Everything is fine.

••••

Steve Harrington is good at D&D.

Eddie had been worried, at first, that Steve might not take things seriously. That he’d laugh at their silly voices or make fun of the guys who wear costumes or just…make it clear that he thought they were ridiculous. Childish.

Instead, he maybe takes things too seriously––asking detailed questions about terrain and weather patterns and doing so many perception checks that Jeff is about ready to strangle him an hour in, but his overly cautious approach uncovers more than one trap Eddie had set. Steve is excellent at strategy and disconcertingly good at organizing the party when there’s something to fight. Even more disconcerting, most of his strategies appear to involve martyrdom and it’s only through Eddie fudging his combat rolls a little that Steve’s character survives the night.

He’s not perfect, of course. Steve’s math skills are abysmal and he constantly has to be reminded what his modifiers are, which Eddie does gently and without complaint, because he’d copied down Steve’s stats the night before and he doesn’t want Steve to be embarrassed. The guys will definitely never, ever, let him live it down, but he figures he’s already lost so much credibility with them at this point a little more won’t be the end of the world.

And Steve keeps smiling at him, so.

Worth it.

When Steve’s watch alarm goes off, a minute before 7pm, he makes a hasty exit for the bathroom, bag in hand, and the other guys decide he must have some sort of medication he has to take and he didn’t want to do it in front of them. Eddie doesn’t correct them, doesn’t know how he would even try to correct the assumption because he doesn’t actually understand what Steve is doing. But it does remind him that there is a Mystery afoot and Eddie really should be trying to figure out what the hell is going on instead of just…mooning over Harrington’s pretty face.

Then again, nothing is stopping him from doing both.

The guys warm to Steve by the end of the session, patting his back and calling goodbye as they exit the doors under the external halogen lights.

The night is quiet and cool and when Steve offers to drive Eddie home, Eddie can only say yes. Eddie slides into the passenger seat, tossing his backpack into the back, and decides to take the opportunity to snoop. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the handful of cassettes inside.

“Oh,” Steve says, “wait, that’s not––”

There’s Dio and Metallica, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and then the artists Eddie suspected all along: Madonna, A-ha, Donna Summer, ABBA, Journey, The Eagles and—oh.

Fleetwood Mac. With Landslide on the B side.

It’s shiny and new. No scuffs on the case.

“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“When did you even have time to get this?” Eddie asks, baffled. And maybe he shouldn’t assume, maybe he’s completely off-base, but Steve looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal so he thinks the assumption is apt. “You left our place at like 10pm last night and you’ve been in school all day.”

“I have a free period before lunch. The record store is a five minute drive from campus.”

“But…why?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, with the soft resignation of someone lying. It sounds more like, “I can’t tell you,” which makes Eddie want to shake him.

Eddie considers Steve’s shadowed face: his downturned mouth and his stupidly long eyelashes. He looks tired.

Eddie exhales. “Well, we’re listening to it.”

Steve doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t say anything else at all until they get to the trailer and he’s hurrying around to open Eddie’s door for him and get his bag from the backseat like Eddie is some girl he’s dropping off after a date.

“Oh wait,” he says, ducking back to grab his own bag. “I have—hold on, it’s—there we go.”

He emerges with another tupperware container in his hands, this one smaller than the one he passed around at lunch.

“I thought Wayne might want some,” he says shyly, eyes on the cookies in his hands. “As a thank you. For yesterday.”

Eddie is going to scream.

“That’s really nice. I’m sure he’ll love them, and if he doesn’t I’ll eat them because apparently you’ve been possessed by Betty Crocker’s ghost. Or—actually I don’t know if she’s dead or not. Or if she was a real person. Anyway, the point is that—“

Steve is smiling at him. Softly. Like he’d be happy to listen to Eddie ramble as long as he wants.

Eddie clears his throat. “Wayne should be home if you want to give them to him.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, walk you in.”

So much screaming.

Steve does walk him in, hands over the cookies to a baffled-looking Wayne, and then touches Eddie’s hand—hardly a touch at all really, his first two fingers resting, briefly, on Eddie’s wrist, his thumb tucked just under the meat of Eddie’s palm, almost like he’s checking Eddie’s pulse.

“Goodnight,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t even know if he responds.

He’s still looking down at his wrist when Steve’s car engine starts and the headlights fan over the windows before everything goes dark and still outside.

“So,” Wayne says. “Is he…”

“What?” Eddie asks blankly.

“...your sweetheart?”

That’s enough to break Eddie out of whatever trance he’d been in. “My–? Jesus. No. You know who you’re talking about, right?”

“I know what I’m seeing,” Wayne mutters. “Not sure I’m happy about it.”

Eddie’s stomach immediately goes sour. They’ve never actually discussed Eddie’s romantic preferences. Wayne knew. He had to know, considering the circumstances in which Wayne became Eddie’s guardian. But they’ve never said anything out loud to each other and Eddie was hoping to continue that tradition potentially for forever.

“Wait,” Wayne says, moving forward to squeeze his shoulder, “I didn’t mean––fuck, you know I’m no good at this shit. Come sit down.”

They move to the couch.

They sit.

Wayne digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“I don’t care who you’re sweet on or who you bring home, you hear me? As long as they treat you right and they don’t get you into trouble. But that Harrington boy… I get the feeling he’s trouble. And with his folks being who they are, I just want you to be careful. That boy has a history and I don’t know what it is, but I’d wager it isn’t pretty.”

“I don’t know what it is either,” Eddie murmurs. “He’s not––I don’t think he’s bad trouble, though. He’s trying to protect me. Us. At school. Even though it’s put a giant target on his back. He’s quit basketball and joined Hellfire and he’s. I don’t know. I like him.” It feels like a confession.

“I wonder how his Daddy feels about all that,” Wayne murmurs. “You ever seen him come to school hurt?”

Eddie considers. “I don’t know. Why?”

Wayne just looks at him.

“You think his parents––?”

“I think I know the kind of boy his father was. I can imagine the sort of man he turned into.”

Eddie feels chilled all the sudden. He gets up from the couch to close the open window above the sink. It doesn’t help. He rests his hands, fingers splayed, on the countertop. He taps his nails on the fornica.

Abuse wouldn’t explain the kids or the panic attack or why he suddenly seems obsessed with Eddie. But it would explain some things.

“I’m not going to start avoiding him,” Eddie says.

Wayne sighs. “I didn’t expect you would. Considering.”

Eddie doesn’t ask him to elaborate.

He holds up the container of cookies Wayne had abandoned on the counter, then carries them over to the couch when he nods.

Wayne selects the largest one from the top. “Did he actually play your dragons game?”

Eddie nearly chokes on a laugh, helping himself to a cookie as well. “He did. Wasn’t half bad, either.”

Wayne takes a bite. His eyebrows go up. “Shit, did he make these?”

“He did,” Eddie says.

“Well. I suppose we can keep him around.”

Pt. 7

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve/eddie #eddie/steve #myfic #time travel fix it #stranger things fic

255 notes · View notes

givenstheory · 2 years

Text

high vein - e.m

eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: in which you ask eddie to stop doing drugs as it’s what killed your sister. he blows up on you, saying some hurtful things which make you wonder why you even liked him in the first place.

word count: 2.0k +

warnings: angst , drug use , quite graphic description of drug use aftermath , description of death , mentions of alcohol , falling

not proof read or edited

please don’t steal my work/translate it, thanks love.

You lay on his couch with your legs tucked beneath you as you curled into it’s smoky corners, exhausted from your shift and just wanting to see your boyfriend and let him love on you.

You and Eddie had been together for almost a month and not even a week after he asked you out, you seemed to spot his problem. He’d come home reeking of weed, eyes blown up red yet also looking like he’d fall asleep any minute. And that vein below his eye told you the truth.

It only seemed to come out when he was high, make his look small as if he had a lazy eye. You could admit, it was so motherfucking hot but he would lie when you asked him if he did cocaine. You got what you wanted though. Eddie would spend the rest of his night treating you like damn royalty, despite his limited resources.

Truth is, you were fucking petrified that Eddie did that sort of drug. He’d offered it to you before but you declined every time, even the weed and cigarettes he tried to get you to use too.

A year ago, your older sister moved back to Hawkins from college. She went to NYU a preppy, motivated teen and came back a drug addicted, alcoholic. Every morning, every afternoon and every night you would watch as she snorted, swallowed and mixed all sorts of pills in your room. You shared a room and every now and then, she wouldn’t wake up.

Your parents didn’t care enough to stop her so you were the one with your fingers down her throat as she came back to life, thanked you and then drowned herself in bourbon. For some reason, your relentless begging only seemed to egg her on more. Kneeling down in front of her with your hands in her trembling ones as you sobbed at her to stop.

At one point, you really thought she did. She woke you up with double breakfast in bed as you cuddled into your finally sober sister, watched movies all day and ate pure shit. You couldn’t be happier when you saw her smile.

You just didn’t know that would be the last time you saw it.

The next morning you were kiddy with excitement, the plans you had arranged previously for your day. An hour or so at the arcade, lunch at the nearby diner and finally go see a movie at the Starcourt Mall. She had suggested it.

You jumped on her bed to only notice the quilts had been stuffed with pillows to fake she was in there. You called out for her, not getting an answer and when you waltzed into the bathroom which was connected to your room, you instantly dropped to your knees.

Your sister was spasming on the floor, foaming at the mouth and blood seeping out to stain the carpet below. Next to her there was a large baggie, empty, and small bits filtering out of her nose as the remaining lines could be seen on the floor. There looked to be about 30 lines circling the floor.

Your breath hitched in your throat and your screamed fell on deaf ears to you. You couldn’t hear yourself as a mantra of her name fell from your lips as well as the sobs that wretched your body, shaking her face and slapping it to try and get her awake.

You hauled her over the toilet, practically shoving your fist down her throat over and over to try and get some colour back into her pale and cold skin.

But it was no use. You held a hand to the pulse point on her neck. Nothing.

The ambulance and police came later as you called them, sitting with her body for just a few moments, holding her in your arms with her head tucked into your neck as you rocked her back and forth. And the autopsy revealed her cause of death.

Cocaine.

Wednesday Eddie came home at 12:30, high out of his mind and that vein showed he had done coke. You asked him if he did, he told you no and brushed the subject off, pulling you outside and showing you the dog behind the fence who immediately became excited once it saw Eddie. His smile was real when he poked his finger through the fence, looking back at you with the widest grin you had ever seen him portray.

And you couldn’t do it that night.

Yesterday he brought the Hellfire Boys with him, the older ones, who were stumbling over his trailer as they sat around you and bellowed out songs and talked all night long. It didn’t even take you 10 minutes to leave and collapse on his bed. When he noticed you were gone, he found you fast asleep, face buried in his pillow with the sheets hanging loosely off your body as you clutched onto the teddy bear you had gotten him for his birthday which was a couple of weeks ago.

He sat on the edge of the bed, smiling down at your peaceful state. That’s when the guilt hit him. He’d been lying to you like it was nothing, like trust wasn’t a thing in your relationship. He thought you hadn’t figured it out, but you were way more acknowledged then he thought you were.

Eddie moved closer to you sleeping torso, watching your regulated breaths, in the state eyes and he thought, “that’s a person, that’s my person lying right there, in my bed and it’s all my fault they’re not sat out there with me.”

He leant down and kissed your forehead a couple of times, playing with the ends of your fingers as he wished you would wake up and devour him in a hug and pull him down with you yet he also hoped you’d stay asleep as you looked without worry in his bed and so goddamn pretty.

When you woke up the next morning, the trailer sounded the same as when you went to sleep. Yet, the radio played softer in the background and the voices you could hear seemed to have diminished to 2. It took you a minute to rise, use the bathroom then wander into the living room.

Wayne was perched on the end of the couch as Eddie stood in front of him, playing a riff on his guitar that he seemingly had come up with.

“Eddie, that’s sounds really fucking cool. You got together with the band and show ‘em?”

“Yeah, I think I showed ‘em last night but I don’t remember it.” They both laughed which prompted the end of their conversation, causing Eddie to turn around and lighten up at you sleepy form.

“Mornin’ baby, how’d you sleep?” He was shirtless, hair wild with his jeans just hanging below his navel region as he moved forward with his arms outstretched.

You took a moment to look at his face. He had smeared black eyeliner around his eyes, presumably from the night before. But, even under all the black stains, there it was. The vein which made him look a little like a pirate.

“I slept okay, morning Wayne.” You fell into his chest, peeking over his shoulder as you heart dropped.

It was literally 9am and he was already on cocaine.

“Good morning Y/N. I gotta run kids, I’ll be back by 10 if you’re still here.”

Eddie nodded to his uncle with you still cuddled to his chest. His left hand wrapped around your waist and his right weaved through your hair to massage your scalp lightly.

Wayne gathered his work stuff and exited the trailer within 5 minutes of your interactions. As the door slammed shut, Eddie pulled you away from him and pressed his lips to yours briefly.

“You want some toast?”

“Eddie, we need to talk.” You sighed, looking down as you made your way over to the couch.

Curling your leg underneath your body, you sat in the corner as Eddie wearily sat across from you.

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” His voice sounded pathetic and weak, like he already knew what he had done wrong.

“No no no no Eds, no I am not breaking up with you.”

“Thank the metal gods.” He huffed out a laugh attempting to lighten the situation but it he soon stopped once he saw the upturn of your brows in concern.

“What’s goin’ on sweetheart?”

“Eds… are you on anything right now?” You didn’t want to look at him yet, fiddling with the skin around your nails.

“What?”

“Are you on drugs Munson?” You voice was stern at the neglect of his nickname and hell even his first name, his heart thumped with pain.

“Sweetheart, I-i’m sorry-“

“Eddie I want you to quit.”

Finally looking up at him, you choked on your words as your lips trembled and were downturned at the attempt to keep your cries at bay.

“Y/N i- you’ve got to understand sweetheart that I… I just can’t do that.”

He sighed and shuffled closer with his hand on your thigh.

“You know how Taylor…”

“Love, I’m not on cocai-“

“Yes you are Eddie! Don’t you lie to me Munson, I know it!” Belting our, you stood up and pointed a finger to him as he rose up to meet you.

“Hey woah woah woah, calm down-“

“No!” You grabbed his face, running your fingers over the vein under his eye. “This fucking vein under your eye comes out when you’re on cocaine. Eddie it’s 9am and you’re already fucking high.”

“Woah okay, you do not get to dictate when or when not I can get high. It’s not like it affects you anyways because I do it out of the room for YOU, i’ve made a lot of restrictions for you Y/N.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words. “Taylor died because she took cocaine in the morning, in the afternoon and at night! She was never not high-“

“What is this vein you’re talking about? You’re fucking delusional, Y/N. A-and maybe your sister and I would’ve been a better couple rather than us! Maybe I would’ve been able to save her life like you couldn’t!“

Eddie halted as the words left his mouth, eyes blown wide with spit flying out his mouth at every stab he took at you. He ran a hand through his hair as you just stood there, the same expression he had but the tears rolled down your cheeks unconsciously.

“Y/N-“

You acknowledged your sobs, clutching your left forearm where Eddie had given you the stick and poke of the birth and death date of your sister. It was his idea to commemorate her memory and now he was the one ejecting the ink from your skin and pouring it over you with a punch to the face at the end.

Not bothering to gather your things, you didn’t hesitate on your plan to fling the door open and sprint out of it. Your feet carried you god knows where in Eddie’s trailer park, until the light around you got dimmer and you recognised you were in the woods facing his trailer.

Eddie was close behind you, crying too as he screamed your name with so much desperation it ached his throat.

The woods took you a down a winding path to a no longer lit part of it. Tears blurred your vision, your head ached and pounded as of the tears and your legs began to quiver at the extent of your running.

Eddie seemed to had lost you as he reached towards the end of the woods… where the cliff was.

You hesitated in stopping and just resting against a large tree stump so he couldn’t see you. But your body gave you no choice as you tripped on seemingly nothing, causing you to thud to the floor.

You kept rolling and rolling… until you felt weightless. You felt every edge of the rocks below chip into your skin, score at your bones and bends and corrupt your vessel.

And after all of what happened, you didn’t mind.

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things #tv shows #writing #eddie x reader #eddie st4 #eddie munson st4 #st4 vol2

299 notes · View notes

minetteskvareninova · 2 years

Note

Ranking of Kalfas and Aghas in MC/K? (You can rank Kalfas and Aghas together or separately, your decision)

Ahhh... Asking only the easiest of questions, are we? Very well... (Again, I should probably add some after the rewatch, I don't remember everyone, blah blah, you know the drill.)

KALFAS 1. Nigar - You must've known she would end up here the second you asked that question. Yes, the writers haven't been kind to her. But trough hell or high water, in good writing and bad, Nigar was never not the smartest person in the room. She maintained some of her spark almost to the very end. Press f in chat for the best girl. 2. Cennet - I am very biased towards characters with very strong personalities, which is why Fatma was the best sultana of blood in my eyes. And Cennet has one hell of a personality. Even when the writing of other characters revolved solely around their relationship to Kösem (Halime was her antagonist, so she became a moustache-twirling villain, etc.), she maintained hers to the very end. It was in fact so strong she was apparently was able to seduce pretty boys like half her age just trough it. A legend, I tell ya. 3. Daye - A solid third place for a solid lady. Nothing but respect for MY chief kalfa. 4. Afife - She's... Likeable. Also has that "tough but fair" thing going on that makes her different enough from Daye to make me mildly intrigued with her character. Not my favourite by any means, but pretty good. 5. Menekşe - Our goth sultana's preppy sidekick isn't, alas, very deep or interesting. But she's ride or die for Halime, and as someone who is also mostly ride or die for Halime, I can't not appreciate that. Besides, at least she has some consistent personality. That's not a given with these girls. 6. Gülşah - She had been in the show for so long and had such a strong, consistent presence that I can't help myself from becoming a little bit fond of her. She's a horrible person, but she would do anything for Mahi's pretty eyes, and can you blame her? Her fall from Mahidevran's good graces was actually kind of sad. That said, for all of my sympathies, she does undeniably suck. 7. Fahriye - In principle, she should be pretty fascinating, going from hating Hürrem for relatively understandable reasons to unconditional loyalty to her. Unfortunately, the show never allows us much insight into her thoughts and feelings, especially during her defection to Hürrem. She is just kinda stuck with her after the assassination attempt. Apparently, she develops some sympathies for Hürrem after hating her guts... Why? And after the defection, she doesn't seem to have much personality at all. What a waste. 8. Fidan - Similar problem, except where Fahriye was kinda interesting as a fighter and Mahidevran's top agent, Fidan is just... Some lady that does what Hürrem tells her, untill Ayşe Hafsa forces her to turn away from Hürrem. She then starts serving Mahidevran, in fact, she becomes her most loyal attendant... For some reason. Also, her friendship with Fatma seems to exist solely for Fatma to have someone to talk to. *yawn* 9. Dudu - If you sucked away everything that made Daye and Afife distinct, you would get Dudu. Even as a big fan of Kösem season 1 I have no opinion of her, which is saying something.

AGHAS 1. Sümbül - I mean, this is kind of a honorary position, isn't it? Sümbül wasn't always the kindest or funniest, and could at times be annoying. But much like Hürrem and Mahi, he stuck for the long haul, and for all of the moments good and bad, he deserves the first place. 2. Bülbül - How did this precious little cinnamon roll end up in the service of the most evil sultana of her era is still a mystery to me. Romantic love is the only explanation. Either way, a middle-aged man has no right to be this adorable. Your honor, I love him. 3. Gül - This was a very close race. He's a lot like Bülbül, but with a bit of a mean streak and the level of devotion that crosses over to asskissing. Still, he's pretty funny, and most of the time a nice person, except where his legendary rivalry with Sümbül is concerned. 4. Mercan - He's also close to the third and second place, and in many ways is hard to compare to the others. Which, I give him credit even just for the novelty; where most prominent eunuchs in the show are loud and effeminate, to suddenly have this silent gigachad stand next to fucking Sümbül... Well, he's nothing if not memorable. His stoic exterior hides a heart that beats for but one thing - his mistress... But I'd better stop before this turns into a fanfic. 5. Kiraz - I'll just say that if the writers needed a small annoying creature following Afife's every step, they could've just given her a dog. 6. Haci - He has two modes: asshole and Kösem's lackey. Needless to say, I don't like either of them. His rivalry with Bülbül is a pale shadow of Sümbül and Gül, mostly consisting of Haci being a dick for no reason and Bülbül being annoyed by it. Which, how dare he be mean to my precious Bülbül?!

#magnificent century #magnificent century: kösem #answered asks

11 notes · View notes

catharrington · 4 years

Note

Oh my god I love your work so much and am stoked for your drabble challenge!! Would you be able to do 47?!?🥰🥰

Y’all really be trying me for this domestic shit this night. I am joke I love it. Okay okay. Hold up. Thank you for the ask!!! ;)

***

47- “I thought it was a one-night-stand…and now we’re married…”

“I need you to stay here!” Billy was past asking, full on demanding.

Dustin steadied his squishy face into a sour pull. “If he dies, then I die!” He pledges.

Billy leans back from where he was bent over yelling in the kid’s face. He looks around, sucking his tongue across the top of his teeth, at the other children in a semi circle behind Dustin. They didn’t have time for this. Steve didn’t have time for this.

“I’m not going to let Harrington die,” he rushed.

“Swear it!” Mike spoke up from behind Dustin’s shoulder. Will and Lucas next to him nodded hard.

“Yeah, you have to swear it under oath!” Dustin was really trying the small level of patience Billy had going for him.

He growled, lips curling over teeth, just growled at the kids. They didn’t budge. Their little faces serious and their hands balled as fists.

“Fine! I swear I won’t let Harrington die, happy?” He blurted quickly. The semi circle fell inside itself as they talked it out, but Billy was sweating. He took that chance to dart away from their gaggle protected by the headlights of a preppy red BMW and into the woods.

Axe in hand he marched. He tracked to the same spot he lost Steve at; a forked tree that was dripping with black slime. Steve had wandered away at the slightest noise. Always an altruistic asshole that never cared for himself.

“Harrington!” He called out to the trees, flashlight whipping back and forth.

“Hey, bastard!”

Still nothing. He was circling the tree like an idiot. If he went deeper it was only a guess at finding where he might have gone. And there was no tracks, nothing dropped. It was as if he vanished.

“Steve!” Billy felt his breath catch in his throat at the idea of that. A sinking and sobering feeling dug into his gut. He needed to find Steve, needed to get him back safe.

But his next desperate begging was lost to the forest as he heard right from the base of the tree a sickening crack. Then another.

Billy pointed his flashlight right on the trunk, where the pool of black was thickest. This time it glowed under the light a pulsating red. His eyes went wild as he noticed a shadow pass along the other side.

“Steve?” His voice was shaking like his hands.

Then he membrane of the tree trunk pushed outwards, the shadow was shoving against it, pulling the red taught as flesh about to rip from a wound. He pulled his axe up farther in his grip and readied himself for whatever the mad house of Hawkins could dish. He watched the membrane split in a long slice and part for a hand; a human hand.

Billy’s axe dropped to the ground. He stumbled closer to the tree to get his own hand around those long thin fingers, the flashlight dropped too in his haste.

“Bill?” Just one word that sounded eons away echoing inside a chamber.

The hand pulls back into the cut and Billy’s catching himself on either side of the red glow with his hands on tree bark. His eyes are huge, his mouth hanging open, chest heaving.

“Steve, I’m here! Please tell me you ain’t in this freaky alien puss-,”

A shadow moves across the glow. “Shut up and run, Bill. Please. It’s going to get out.” And that’s Steve’s voice. Melodious and cute, panicked and horror stricken. Billy curls his hands into fists.

“Ain’t leaving you!” He demands. Loud, so loud he feels it in his throat just as much as he can taste the ash coming out of this cut in their dimension.

“Run away! It’s going to follow-,”

“Don’t give a shit. I need you, Steve!”

“What? Why?”

“I swore to keep you alive!” Then as if woken by their words a horrible screeching sounds off. Billy stops a worried sob in his throat. “Steve!” He calls again.

Then the hand is back, blue from cold and shaking like a leaf but curling around the ripped skin of the portal’s membrane. Billy only needs that before he’s grabbing it. He hauls Steve out with one hand. Skin slick and dripping black mucus but Billy’s grip is sure as he gets one hand then a forearm out.

Steve let’s himself get pulled back into their world and manhandled. He stumbles then falls with the force of Billy’s need.

They hit againt the floor of the woods with a crunch of leaves and sticks. Billy flat on his back, with Steve moaning on his chest. Their hands seak each other without needing to think. Steve’s thighs lock down around Billy’s waist in a familiar heat he craves to thaw out his chilled skin.

Billy doesn’t ask. He leans up and nuzzles into Steve’s cheek, nudging him and moving him, then seals their lips together in a desperate kiss.

Steve whimpers into his lips; let’s himself go soft from the way Billy makes him warm all over. They part quick enough for breath, both boys still gasping for air. But they stay close enough to kiss with each breath. The tips of their noses squished and their lips featherlight waiting for more movement.

“You swore... what exactly?” Steve is the first to talk in hurried whispers.

Billy only smiles more and catches his lips again. His arms trail down Steve’s body and wrap up his trim waist in a scooping hug.

“I thought it was a one-night-stand?” Steve’s words are sloppy into Billy’s lips. His eyes open and curious.

Billy sucks at his lips even when they taste bad before he leans back. What he said the night before can be damned for all he cared. The only thing that mattered was this boy on his lap, safe and alive. Billy swore he would protect him for all it’s worth to a bunch of kids; but now in his jack rabbit fast heart he thinks it’s more binding than… well...

“And now we’re married?” Billy smiles. Steve shakes his wet hair miserably but still cute. Then he returns the smile with his own brilliant one.

Just before they kiss again; thick claws scratch at the sides of tree bark and long grey limbs try to crawl out from the cut. Billy hates to lift Steve off of him, but he loves the way his axe sings into the flesh of the monster that tried to take his promised charge away from him.

#okay two down send more plesee #and i know this is goody and unrelistic but its what j got sue me #jk dont sue me please love me #harringrove #harringrove fic #my fic #harringrove fanfic #steve/billy #prompt fill

51 notes · View notes

thebisexualdogdad · 5 years

Note

So I'm not sure if your taking request, if you are could I request a Cheryl blossom imagine where the reader is Toni's brother and he likes Cheryl and she's attracted to him but donest want to get attached becuase he's a snake. He crashes one of the vixons practises and makes a move on Cheryl and she invites him to pops after fridays game. Watching Cheryl preform he gets a little turned on and Cheryl notices Ans they skip pops and head back to his for some hot and steamy love making

Monday's Vixen practice came to an end, the girls taking their time as they changed in the locker room prior to heading home for the night.

“Which of the Serpents do you think is the hottest?” one girl asked.

“Fangs,” another stated immediately.

“It's totally Sweet Pea,” a third chimed in.

Cheryl and Veronica were further down the aisle, overhearing the whole conversation.

“What about you Cheryl? I can't help but notice the blaring sexual tension between you and Y/N Topaz,” Veronica teased.

Before Cheryl could respond Toni came from around the corner.

“You know my brother thinks you're hot right?” she said leaning against a locker.

“While you're brother may be rather attractive I won't get attached to a snake, I prefer to be in for the long haul not some fling to fulfill temporary gratification… no offense TT,” Cheryl quipped in response.

“Fine by me, the last thing I want to see is you making out in the hallways with Y/N,” Toni shrugged.

“‘Don't get attached to a snake’. Ha. I should be the one on the guard around some preppy northsider,” you muttered when Toni told you about her encounter with Cheryl later that night as you guys watched tv.

“She is kind of right though, you aren't exactly the type to call after your nighttime rendezvous’,” Toni said.

“Because none of those girls could keep my attention long enough for anything other than sex.”

“And you think Cheryl ‘hbic’ Blossom will? She's everything you hate,” Toni laughed.

“Maybe I'm tired of simple and want someone who will keep things… entertaining,” you replied.

“You seriously have feelings for her don’t you?” Toni said realizing exactly why Cheryl's words stung so much.

“So what if I do?” You retorted.

“Go get the girl of you want to but don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart cause all I'll say is I told you so,” Toni said getting up from the couch and heading to bed.

Toni was right, Cheryl was everything you despised and you shouldn't be chasing after her but for some reason you just couldn't get her out of your head.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?” Toni asked as you took a seat in the front row of bleachers in the auditorium.

“What? A guy can't support his sister and her extracurriculars?” You called out.

Toni shook her head knowing you had a hidden agenda most likely including Cheryl but she didn't have any fucks to give at the moment since she was already exhausted from the school day and with it being Wednesday she also had a shift at the Wyrm immediately after practice.

Cheryl then appeared in the auditorium, making a grand entrance as always.

“Alright Vixens, you better be ready to go and prove why we're the best around,” she smiled.

Cheryl then saw you in the bleachers and rolled her eyes.

“Sorry no guests allowed at practice, we don't need any pervs taking advantage of looking up the girls skirts,” she sneered.

“I would never,” you said appalled. You got up from your seat and stood in front of her, “come on Blossom, tell me you really don't want me here, I see you checking me out all the time,” you grinned.

Cheryl gulped, trying to think of what to say next.

“Fine,” she started, “if you're so keen for my attention come to the football game Friday night.”

“Like I'd ever go to a school sporting event,” you laughed.

Cheryl knew you couldn't give less of a damn about anything having to do with the school which meant that if you serious about her this would be a test to prove it.

“If you actually come I'll let you take me to Pop's for a shake afterwards,” she told you.

You took a moment to think.

“Looks like I'll see you Friday night beautiful,” you winked at her before finally leaving.

Cheryl had to try quite hard to not let the other girls know just how flustered she was for the rest of practice.

Friday night came around and the game was dreadfully painful to attend but Cheryl invited you so you were sure as hell going to be there.

You spent most of the first half on your phone, only looking up when the Vixens did their cheers to hype up the crowd.

Now it was halftime and the Vixens were doing their performance before the marching bands turn.

Your eyes stayed locked on Cheryl as she moved along the track.

Cheryl knew you were watching her so she put a little extra sultry step in her routine, bending down and shaking her ass to turn you on.

She danced around, moving her hips wanting you to see exactly what they could do.

It worked.

You shifted in your seat, trying to find a position that would make the boner appearing in your jeans less noticeable.

Cheryl saw your actions and bit her lip, pleased that she had successfully achieved her goal.

After the game you stood by Cheryl's car, waiting for her to go to Pop's.

The parking lot was mostly empty, the remaining cars belonging to members of the Vixens and the football team who were always the last to leave.

Eventually Cheryl sauntered over to you, still in uniform.

“That was one hell of a performance,” you told her.

Cheryl didn't respond, instead she pushed you into the side of her car, kissing you hard.

When she pulled back she had a wicked grin on her lips, “i know it got you all hot and bothered.”

Her hand ran over the erection you still had from earlier making you groan

“So how about we skip Pop's and go right to what I know we both want back at my place,” she said cocking her head to the side.

“What happened to you won't get attached to a snake?” You smirked.

“Depending on how good the sex is, I might just change my mind,” she said grabbing her keys and hitting the button to unlock the doors, “now get in the car Topaz before I leave you here to take care of yourself.”

The car ride to Thistlehouse was excruciatingly long but the moment you stepped inside you had your lips on Cheryl's neck.

She led you upstairs, both of your shoes and your Serpent jacket being discarded along the way.

Once you reached her bedroom she guided you to the foot of her bed, tugging your shirt off and pushing your shoulder for you to sit down.

She got on your lap, kissing you roughly and slipping her tongue in your mouth.

Your hands went to her hips as the started to rock against yours.

“I've been turned on all night Cheryl, i don't know how much foreplay I can take,” you said sliding your hands down to her ass.

“I make the rules tonight Y/N and you don't get off until I do,” she said pulling her cheer top over her head and unclipping her bra.

“Yes ma'am,” you said taking a nipple into your mouth, teasing your tongue around it.

Cheryl moaned when you switched to her other nipple a minute later, giving it the same attention.

Your hands stayed placed on her ass, guiding her movements in your lap.

Suddenly you picked Cheryl up, making her gasp in surprise as you turned around and laid her on her bed.

Pulling her skirt down her legs you slowly kissed your way from her ankles up to her thighs, leaving blooming hickeys in your wake making her as impatient as she had made you.

“Get on with it alrea-” she started to say but a moan came out instead as soon as your tongue took its first lick through her.

You flicked her clit a few times before moving back down to her entrance.

Cheryls back arched against the mattress as your tongue explored her for what felt like forever.

“Y/N,” she groaned, “i- i need you- inside.”

You climbed back up her body, nipping at her clavicle, “Cheryl Blossom stumbling on her words, that must be a first,” you grinned.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she grunted fumbling with the button of your jeans and pushing them down down your hips.

You got out of your jeans and boxers, pulling a condom out of your back pocket.

“You came prepared,” Cheryl said as you put the condom on and repositioned yourself on top of her.

“I always do,” you said taking the tip of your cock and teasing her entrance.

Cheryl was having none of it as she grabbed your ass and brought your hips forward, your cock now inside her.

“Damn I like your style,” you chuckled, giving her a moment to adjust to you.

“I know how to get what I want,” she sighed as you started moving your hips.

Her hands went to your back, holding on as your pace sped up.

You nipped at her neck, watching the way her eyes closed shut and her breasts bounced with every thrust.

The room was silent except for the sound of yours and Cheryl's moans, the bedframe tapping against the wall as the bed shook.

Her nails dug into your back and you could feel her tightening around you.

“Oh god,” she cried out as she came.

You continued to rock your hips to ride her through her orgasm and it didn't take long after for you to cum too.

When both your climaxes subsided you pulled out of her, tossing the condom in the trash and falling on your back next to her.

“So,” you said, “has your mind been changed?”

“I don't know, i think I'm gonna need another orgasm or two before I can know for sure,” she grinned but you already the knew the real answer to your question.

“It would be my pleasure,” you said as your fingers found their way to right where she needed them.

#riverdale imagines #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #fic

250 notes · View notes

kellyprepster · 6 years

Photo

Looking at this week like toUCAN do it 😜😂💁🎉 Tap once for outfit details ✨ btw I uploaded a Fall Clothing Haul on YouTube today, link in bio📲🤗💕 • • • • • • #outfitoftheday #ootd #lookoftheday #fashion #kellyprepster #fashiongram #style #love #beautiful #currentlywearing #lookbook #wiwt #whatiworetoday #ootdshare #outfit #clothes #wiw #mylook #fashionista #todayimwearing #instastyle #instafashion #outfitpost #preppy #preppyoutfit #lillypulitzer https://www.instagram.com/p/BopqxHPhQld/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1d5rb28z9w9nu

2 notes · View notes

newsfact · 3 years

Text

Nordstrom Has the Best Fall Finds Secretly On Sale Right Now

Courtesy

When you’re someone who likes to shop as much as me, finding an excuse to dabble in a little retail therapy can be pretty easy. Special event coming up? It looks like I need a new dress! Oh, sweater weather is here? Time to invest in knitwear. And return to the office also means returning to footwear beyond slippers. The point is, replenishing my closet with all sorts of aesthetically pleasing things comes naturally to me, hence why you and I are here.

Imagine my delight when I realized that Nordstrom’s sale section features tons of fall essentials, including turtlenecks, jackets, boots, and more. You can snag some from your favorite brands like Sam Edelman, Levi’s, Good American, and Nike for up to 40 percent off, so you’re wallet will thank you for the smart investment Ahead, shop 14 fall favorites on sale at Nordstrom right now.

Advertisement – Continue Reading Below

This Patterned Frock

Square Neck Babydoll Dress

This checkered print babydoll dress is so fun! I’m already thinking about all the places I’m going to wear it.

These Chunky Boots

Clarisa Platform Chelsea Boot

Here lies a pair of boots that will go with everything.

This Chic Shacket

Belted Shirt Jacket

Behold one of fall’s biggest must-haves: the shacket. Wear it on its own or layer it up.

This Denim Hat

Logo Bucket Hat

When I’m having a bad hair day, I love throwing on a bucket hat and heading out the door.

This Cozy Cardigan

Sunrise Stripe Cardigan Sweater

Sweater weather is finally here. Kick off the season right with this ivory striped cardigan.

These Totally Cool Pants

Athena Velvet Flare Crop Pants

Velvet anything is just an autumn must-have. These flare pants are giving me ‘70s vibes.

These Go-With-Everything Boots

Olly Knee High Boot

How versatile are these knee-high boots from Sam Edelman? It’ll go great under a midi dress or paired with a mini skirt and tights.

This Super Sweet Set

Cropped Rib Cardigan & Camisole Set

This set is gonna look great with your favorite pair of jeans. Feel free to also pair it with a pleated mini skirt if you wanna go preppy.

These Retro Sunnies

Aviator Sunglasses

I’m all for a retro-inspired pair of sunglasses. If you’re not feeling the yellow tint, this pair also comes in pink- and blue-colored lenses too!

This Pair of Denim

501 Skinny Jeans

Pretty sure there’s no limit on how pair of jeans you can own, especially when you snag a pair for this cheap.

These Neutral Toned Sneakers

Court Vintage Premium Sneaker

Is there anything more wearable than an off-white vintage-inspired sneaker? (Hint: The answer is no.)

This Cool Backpack

Woven Chain Backpack

For those days when you need to haul your stuff around but want to look cute doing so, opt for this backpack.

This Light Orange Skirt

Plaid Miniskirt

This plaid miniskirt is wearable all year round. Just throw some tights on when it’s cooler, and feel free to ditch them come spring.

This Super Warm Coat

Faux Shearling Lined Corduroy Jacket

Get cozy with this corduroy jacket with faux shearling lining. P.S.: Pair it with your favorite turtleneck if you want to feel extra warm.

Bianca Rodriguez Commerce Editor Bianca Rodriguez is the Commerce Editor/Writer at Hearst Magazines Digital Media, where she covers fashion, beauty, home, and more.

This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano.io

Advertisement – Continue Reading Below

Source link

from WordPress https://ift.tt/3mV0Uyb via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

richiestoziers · 7 years

Text

tenderness (chapter 1)

summary: eddie kaspbrak is the most popular guy in derry high and thinks he has nothing to worry about in his senior year of high school, boy is he wrong! with the news of his messy ex stepbrother richie living with him and everyone in his life’s love life becoming a mess (his included), he is feeling totally clueless!

warnings: starting off detailed and ending half assed?? idk um no idea!! um?? extremely clueless au so warning expect that??

read on ao3 here!!

it was the first day of senior year at derry high, and eddie kaspbrak was worry free.

what would he need to worry about? he’d slowly but surely become one of the most popular kids at derry high, alongside his best friends ben hanscom and stanley uris. high school was a breeze when you were popular, smart, and had close to nothing to worry about. he was coming to school with a new haircut, a new outfit, and at least one class with each of his friends.

“what do you guys have first period?” stan questioned, looking down at his own schedule as they walked on campus.

“debate, what about you?” ben responded first, already having memorized his schedule.

“me too! i would have hated not having someone in that class with me. what about you eddie?” stan and ben were psyched to have it together, debate was a fun class as long as you knew somebody, but if not you were totally screwed.

“i have trig, aka the bane of my existence.” eddie spoke, walking in between his two best friends, jealous that they had debate together. they all took it in hopes that it would be a class that they could all share, but while they had it first period eddie was stuck having it last.

“what classes do we have together again?” stan questioned, analyzing his schedule for the hundredth time.

“the only one all three of us have together is study hall, which doesn’t even really count.” eddie had made sure to memorize his classes along with his friends, it made things so much easier in his life.

“it’s our last year and us three don’t even have a real class together, this is hell.” stan tended to be over dramatic, but they were all used to it.

“we’ll push through, anyways there’s passing periods, lunch, and study hall. i think we’ll survive.” eddie teased, rolling his eyes at stan with a smile on his face.

ben had been looking at his phone all the while as they talked, and stan and eddie looked at each other, both knowing why.

“i promised i’d meet beverly in the quad, wanna come with?” ben questioned, and the smile on eddie’s face grew.

eddie himself was responsible between the love connection of his best friend ben hanscom and the lovely beverly marsh. he seemed to have a knack when it came to matchmaking, which showed through the almost year long relationship between the two. he saw the looks ben gave him, and he had become friends with beverly through mutual classes, and he knew what to do.

it was a bit harder than normal since ben was his partner in crime when it came to making these love connections, ben was a hopeless romantic and loved helping eddie, but that was one he had to do on his own. it was worth it, and he had a feeling that relationship would last.

“of course, let’s go.” eddie responded, and ben took the lead as stan and eddie wiggled their eyebrows at each other because of the smile on ben’s face.

they could easily spot beverly, anyone could with that red hair. she had grown it out a bit longer and embraced the curls, it suited her.

“hey guys!” she lifted her arms to hug her boyfriend first, ben who after years finally got taller than her, and while he was more fit still maintained some of his pudge. he was no longer overweight, hell he was the star on the track team, but his body maintained a healthy weight.

she went in for a hug for stan and eddie after, having become much closer to their group since dating ben. her and eddie were already friends after having history together the year before, but she was officially in popular territory once she joined their group. the main problem with that was the fact that greta bowie-keene was technically apart of the popular group, non of the liked her but she somehow was still apart of it. she only played nice with bev because she wanted to kiss ass for eddie, ben, and stan. they all disliked her, but the best part was they could be bitchy to her face and she just took it since she was desperate for the full level of popularity.

eddie never thought he’d see these tables turn, but he didn’t mind it.

“what class do you have, baby?” ben asked beverly, wrapping an arm around her waist, always clinging to her.

“trigonometry.” she responded, and boy was eddie uber thankful.

“bless! i thought i was going to have to go the entire year in that class alone, but you’ve saved me from a horrible class yet again.” eddie smiled up to his friend, going up to kiss her cheek since she was taller than him.

bev smiled and laughed, glad she had such a good friend group. once losers turned popular, it’s a wonder what a few years in derry could do. take the inhaler away from eddie and put him in some preppy clothes and boom he was popular, and the rest followed suit.

their chatter ended with the bell ringing, everyone in the area scattering to their classes.

“gotta haul ass to class, see you later guys?” bev spoke for the both of them, her and eddie going in one direction and ben and stan going in the other.

“so you and ben?” eddie questioned bev, hitting her side as they walked.

“what about us?” she asked with a smile.

“how are things, duh? are you still indebted to me for doing such a good deed for the both of you?” he teased, always bragging about the good he’s done for the two.

“you are so cocky, eddie.” beverly teased.

“i’m just proud of all my hard work, can you blame me?” they had reached their class, and the conversation ended with bev rolling her eyes and the two laughing together.

they took the last two seats in the class that were together, both in their mind hoping the teacher wouldn’t give some ridiculous seating arrangement.

first period passed easily, the two maintained their seats together and were just lectured on the class syllabus, and they talked for the brief passing period before going their separate ways to their second period class.

his next class was american lit, which sounded pretty easy just from the course description. they were reading all the ‘great american stories’ aka the books sparknotes already had written up for you. not that eddie would ever cheat, but it sure as hell helped.

walking into the class he was one of the first ones there and took a random seat in the second row, going on his phone to distract from the silence. he already had multiple texts from his group chat with ben and stan, a mixture about how the debate teacher was already being a hardass and stan having a baseball meeting after school.

speaking of baseball, in comes one of their star players, bill denbrough. eddie felt his stress alleviate once more, glad that he not only had a friend but one of the best students when it came to english in the school. bill denbrough was six four and had auburn hair, and he was known for baseball and writing, and eddie had been friends with him since they were kids.

“bill! i thought you would have been taking creative writing this year.” eddie smiled as his friend took the seat next to him, thankful.

“i’m doubling up on english, so i’m taking this and creative writing. no s-study hall for me.” he still had a semblance of a stutter, rare but occasionally there, always reminding them of their humble beginnings.

“well i’m glad you’re in this class with me, i’d probably die from loneliness if you weren’t here and fail without your help.” eddie smiled, always having to look up at his friend.

“you’re getting too dramatic eddie, i thought that was stan’s job in your little friend group.” bill poked eddie with his statement, it was meant to be regular but eddie being ‘frail’ thought it hurt.

“who told you that?” eddie questioned, genuinely curious.

“word on the street.” bill gave him one of those smirks everyone seemed to fall for, turning to the teacher as she began to speak.

how curious.

third period was already his favorite, it was just a straight hour of doing absolutely nothing with his best friends. they were supposed to stay quiet in study hall, but it was only the first day and the teacher couldn’t expect them to be working when the only thing meant to be done was read over the syllabus.

“beverly and i just had history, ap. beverly’s thinking about dropping it, but i’m trying to convince her to stay.” ben spoke to them as they walked around the school library where study hall was held, following him as he looked for a book.

“stan and i have that fifth period, it can’t be that bad already.” eddie spoke, suddenly anxious. he rarely took ap classes, but they all had decided to take the only ap history class they offered for seniors.

“i don’t think so, but it’s ap. that’s why she’s nervous, but i think she’ll get the hang of it, she’s smarter than me so i can’t imagine her doing worse than me.” ben grabbed some architecture book, neither boy cared to look at it in depth.

“she is smarter than you, that’s true.” stan teased, hitting his shoulder with ben’s.

ben didn’t show any indication of annoyance or anything towards stan’s comment, because he thought beverly was the smartest person even if she didn’t have all the grades to prove it. “i got my book we can sit now.”

they all went to the table their bags were holding for them, and stan and eddie continued on with a conversation about their weekend plans as ben read from his book.

ben was typically the quiet one of the group, though that never got rid of how important he was. he was eddie’s best friend, his partner in crime, the person he went to for all his problems. he had met him before he had met stan, so while they shared a similar bond him and ben just had that history together.

funny, because this year stan and eddie had actual history together, fifth period to be exact.

“so i heard in second period that there was going to be a rager in bangor this saturday, are we going?” stan asked the group.

ben nodded as he read, an indicator he was down to go.

“bangor? my mom will kill me, but i’m sure i can manage something. can’t miss the first party of the year.” eddie smiled, his mother still protective but gave him some more freedom.

“great, do you need a ride, eddie?” stan questioned, everyone knowing eddie still didn’t have his license.

“of course, as if my mom would drive me to a party.” he rolled his eyes, hating it.

“i can give you guys a ride.” ben, always the kind one, smiled up from his book to them.

“aw, thanks ben.” eddie and stan smiled at him, hugging him and surprising him with tickles, the trio filling the library with their laughter.

eddie and ben waved goodbye at stan as he left the two to his class, them going to the science wing of the school since they had chemistry together that year. neither of them were great at science, but neither was horrible either. together they worked well, and they were glad to already have heard from others that the chem teacher lets you pick your lab partners.

the two picked the table somewhere in the middle of the class, talking as the teacher set up her presentation for the syllabus. the first day was always the best, you just went to school and didn’t have to do anything. if only the entire school year could be like that. so far his classes seemed fine, so eddie thought this year might be an easier one.

the teacher began to lecture but it just sounded like the peanuts teacher to eddie in the moment, and he went between diddling with his pen and whispering to ben about god knows what.

he could feel his stomach grumbling, his body naturally in tuned to the cycle he once had when his mother forced him to take unnecessary medicine. after he confronted her things drastically changed, and he eased his way to the point where he stopped taking them unless his new doctor actually told him he needed to. at times like this he still expected his watch to ring indicating him to eat and take his pills, and his stomach rumbled inside of him for that.

he had to shake it off, he only had history then he had lunch. he still had some resentment for his mother for what she did, but he couldn’t hate her. she was all he really had, her past marriages always failing and non of her ex husbands being a good father replacement, and while her actions were misguided he told himself it was all because she cared about him.

and she did care about it, she just went about it in all the wrong ways.

he could forgive her for that, and for the fact that he didn’t want to have to spend the years of his life from thirteen to eighteen constantly fighting with his guardian. it was easier this way, and if he played nice she gave him more independence. it was also a good thing she liked stan and ben, she said they were good boys and good influences, which he couldn’t argue with.

he was glad ben would be his lab partner, he would take the labs seriously, and be actually safe.

he loved his friends.

it was the second to last period of the day and the last one before lunch, it was history which he thankfully had with stan, but he was starting to stress because he had debate last and so far none of his friends seemed to have it with him.

if he didn’t know anybody in his debate class he would be screwed, that could singlehandedly ruin the entire year for him.

he met stan inside the class and spotted his khaki wearing friend already sitting down, and eddie quickly made his way to the seat next to him.

“hey, bird boy.” he teased, setting his bag on the joint desk next to him.

stan rolled his eyes, he hated that nickname, but it was a universal nickname for him at derry high. everyone knew the famous stanley uris had a thing for bird watching, and even as a child he was labelled the bird boy. the nickname was once once filled with malice towards him, and now was filled with only appreciation. eddie thought it was cute, most people at school did.

“i’ve only heard mixed things about this class, some say it’s the easiest ap and some say it’s the hardest. i have no idea what to prepare for.” stan seemed already stressed, in a typical stanley uris manner.

“guess we’ll find out as the classes go by, but come on stan! stop stressing! all we’ll probably do is talk about what’s expected and what we’ll learn today, so calm down.” he wrapped his arm around his friend and squeezed his shoulder, the two the same height making it easy.

speaking of height, the opposite of theirs had just walked in. mike hanlon, who was almost as tall as bill denbrough, and the school’s football star. he too was in popular territory, making him a good friend of eddie’s. they had become friends in the eighth grade when mike’s family finally let him go to a real school rather than continue homeschooling.

“hey eddie, hey stan.” mike smiled at them, taking the open seat on the other side of stan.

“hey mike, i didn’t know you were in this class.” stan smiled up at him.

“history is my passion, i had to take this.” he was one of the only other students at derry high that was frequently at the library, following ben.

“really? i had no idea, well it’s a good thing we have you to help us if we get lost.” stan laughed, his stress still showing.

“i got you guys, i’m more than willing to help.” mike smiled at them, he was one of the nicest people eddie knew, so he knew he really did mean it when he said that.

watching the two interact eddie got an idea, it felt like a lightbulb turning on in his hand, and in a typical emma woodhouse he felt the need to set the two up.

he quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, frantically texting ben. new couple project! stan + mike? when baseball meets football? you need to see this chemistry and tension, we found our senior project!

he was internally squealing, already thinking of all the sly things he could do to ease them together, ready to have another happy couple to add onto his resume.

kitty powers is shaking.

lunch finally rolled around and since they were seniors they could eat off campus, but they decided for the day to stick to the school lunch. all in line with their trays they followed behind everyone to get whatever the school was offering that day.

“you have debate next, right richie?” ben asked, he was ahead of eddie in the line.

“yeah, why?” he questioned, moving his hand to grab an apple.

“just wondering. good luck, mr. mueller is being an extra hardass this year, only the first day and we can already tell.” ben warned him, and now eddie was feeling stan’s stress.

“great, and i don’t have anyone in that class.” he bitched, following behind ben to their table, and ben gave him a sympathetic look.

beverly and stan were already at the table, ben and eddie taking their places. the table was typically filled, so much so they never even got to speak to most of the other people there. greta bowie-keene and sally mueller were sitting at the end, mike and some other football players were there too along with bill, and eddie was all in the center of it with his main group.

bev and stan were talking about something, eddie couldn’t really hear over the noise, and instead listened to ben talk about his latest architecture project.

“so my mom is having me redo a lot of the loose boards in the kitchen and while i was looking at the set up, the wood used, and the wood we have now i got an idea. i think i might even do more so it all matches, i mean it’ll help me get used to working with this stuff and it’s doing my mom a favor. i just wish there was more i can do to work with real stuff.” eddie could really admire him for his passion and drive when it came to his dreams of architecture, he himself still had no idea what he wanted to do with his future. “anyway, tell me about stan and mike.”

eddie looked around frantically to see if anyone heard ben, before leaning in close to whisper. “not so loud! they can’t know we’re setting them up, duh. okay, so in history we found out mike was in our class, and he sat next to stan and all class they were being all flirty and lovey dovey.”

ben had such a sweet, tender look in his eyes. he was such a hopeless romantic, which is what made him such a great partner when it came to this. “how sweet, how are we going to do it?”

“well i’m thinking we put them in situations where they have to talk and shit. the party on saturday will be the full kicker, so we have to make this week a week filled with stanley and mike action.” eddie whispered to ben. “i’ll text you when i get a full plan.”

ben nodded, putting his hand out for the two to do their handshake, something they had done since they were young and always did in situations like these.

and wasn’t it perfect timing that right as they looked up stan and mike were briefly talking? the two immediately turned to each other at the sight, squealing with excitement.

oh, how fun!

eddie kaspbrak was on his way to the dreaded class; debate. what should have been an easy, fun class was shifted to the complete opposite at the news he had received. no friends, hard-ass teacher, and the fact he wasn’t even that great at debate in the first place.

he walked into the room nonetheless, never one to ditch, and took a seat. he had no need to pick one specifically, it wasn’t like he was saving a seat for anyone.

and what he expected to be the worst class of the year became the best, because he walked in.

he being victor criss, reformed bully turned total baldwin. his once bleach blonde hair going to a more natural brown, and eddie hadn’t realized just how hot he had gotten that summer. ditching the bowers gang and coming out did wonders for victor criss, and eddie was starting to think he’d have to break his streak of not having a crush in high school.

vic caught him staring and gave him a shy smile, one eddie returned, not feeling embarrassed in the slightest.

victor took the seat next to him, thankfully, and eddie gave him another smile. “hey.”

“hey.” victor responding, giving him a nod, and the two were cut off by the teacher beginning their spiel.

that was all they said to each other that day, but eddie had a good feeling about victor criss and his debate class this year.

wow, things were totally going his way this year!

spoke too soon, because eddie’s perfect beginning to the school year is shattered when he steps foot into his mothers car.

“eddie, honey, richie’s going to be coming tomorrow.” she started to say as she drove them back home after picking him up right after school.

his mouth was gaped. “what? why?”

mrs. kaspbrak, always a worried being, was worried about his reaction. “well, he’s going to be going to college here so i offered to let him stay with us.”

eddie muttered out an “ugh” as he rested against the seat, already annoyed just thinking about his ex stepbrother richie tozier. “why can’t he stay in the dorms? you were married to his father for less than a year, not to mention he’s always messy, and chaotic, and annoying. do you really want that in our house?”

“eddie, be nice. richie is a sweet boy and you know how his father is, we’re the closest thing to family he’s got, and it’s cheaper if he stays with us. he’ll behave if he’s living with us, give him a chance.”

“he is not family, ew, don’t say that. fine, not like i have a choice.” eddie bitched, even though whenever he saw richie they got along fairly well. they tended to bicker and eddie acted like he hated him, but when it really came down to it he wasn’t completely opposed to his company.

“good, i set up the guest room for him and everything. please be nice when he get’s here tomorrow, i’m going to have him pick you up from school.” they pulled up to their driveway, living only a few minutes from the high school.

“seriously? please, no.” eddie begged, wishing he had his license more than anything now.

“i made a deal with him that if he’s living with us he has to take you to and from school. it’s easier on me and i’m able to work more if he does that, and it’s a good way for him to repay us for letting him live with us.” she explained, parking the car and the two getting out.

“fine.” eddie rolled his eyes, knowing all his arguing would do nothing. he hugged his mother to show he wasn’t mad and retreated into their house which would soon be occupied by the ex stepbrother.

so much for his perfect year.

#reddie #reddie fic #reddie fanfiction #reddie imagine #my writing

139 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 7 years

Text

Honey in the Pot: Part 2

(Part 2 of my gift to @nebluus, because she is lovely and gets EXTRA LONG FIC)

Shirayuki’s been at Tanbarun for a year and change, but she can safely say she’s never been to Frat Row.

Until now.

It’s lit up tonight, all old Georgian-style homes that look like they belong in an Austen novel, if Austen novels had preppy frat boys playing beer pong on the front lawn. She expects it to be dingy and decrepit, houses sitting on cracked foundations with black mold creeping up under split siding, but every building is lovingly maintained, Greek letters shining gold in the street light.

Ah, right -- Tanbarun’s a private university. Their families probably pay for it down to the landscaping.

Kino swerves up to some empty curbing, tires grating along the side. She cuts the ignition and hops out easy enough, but Shirayuki pops open her door and bites back a whimper. She’s not anywhere near tall enough to get out of a high-sitting SUV with any dignity; she has to settle for half-slithering to the ground, her stomach giving a lurch as she drops herself down the last few inches. Her kitten heels wobble beneath her.

She barely gets a breath out before a blur drunkenly lurches across her vision, grabs the rearview mirror, and vomits into the gutter.

Shirayuki squeaks, shying away with her borrowed shoes.

“It’s only nine o’clock!” she tells him, alarmed.

He falls to his knees and groans.

Kino swings round the back of the car, tucking her keys into her purse. “C’mon let’s go.”

Shirayuki’s shifts on her feet, uncertain. “Shouldn’t we get him to a hospital? It’s really early for --”

“He probably pre-gamed.” Kino shrugs, what a shame. “He’ll be fine after like gallon of water and four advil.”

Shirayuki frowns. “That’s a really ill-advised amount of ibuprofen.”

“Well, he’s made some really ill-advised decisions tonight, so it all works out.” She slings her purse high up on her shoulder. “We should --”

“We should get him water --”

“I’m sure he has friends, Yuki.”

“What if he doesn’t --?”

Kino’s hand bands tightly around her elbow, hauling her away. “It’s not our problem.”

That doesn’t sit right -- he shouldn’t be left alone, and what sort of friends would let someone get sick? -- but in the end Kino pulls her away, and she lets her. She may not have wanted to go out, but she doesn’t want to spend her night with Kino talking some guy through dry heaves either.

Still, her mind is on him until Kino tugs on her elbow, setting their feet on one of the front walks. Shirayuki catches the golden letters a moment too late.

“Phi Sigma Pi?” she squeaks as they edge through the door, dodging past swaying men with Greek on their polos.

It’s so early, how can everyone be so drunk?

“Yeah, why not?” Kino grins, a fox at a chicken buffet. “It’s the honors frat, right?”

Shirayuki flounders, not sure what to say. It’s true after all, but --

Don’t go to their parties, girls would say in her freshman dorm. Watch your drink. Don’t go alone.

“Sure,” she says. After all, Kino must know more than her.

“Come on.” Kino grabs her elbow, lips curling in a smirk. “Let’s show you off.”

Shirayuki’s not sure what showing off entails really; dancing, maybe, or even having to talk to some of these guys, but --

But it certainly isn’t being parked at the keg, left to fend for herself while Kino talks up every guy that looks like he’s never met a pair of plaid shorts he couldn’t afford.

She’s not the sort of person who gets mad, not right away. But the minutes tick away, five turning to ten turning to thirty, her left watching as everyone else has fun and --

And it builds. She doesn’t want to be here; she wants to be home and alone and wearing clothes only fit for laundry day. The only reason she came was a chance to be with Kino; her stubborn crush had dragged her out heart-first, tripping over her feet like an eager puppy, whispering her that they might dance, might make each other laugh while they got tipsy over cocktails, might press close as they stumbled home, arms twined together --

But instead she’s been left like a dog at a kennel outside an amusement park.

Her cheeks flush, and Shirayuki finally screws up her courage. She stands up on her wobbly legs, getting her kitten heels beneath her, and marches over, intent on confrontation.

“Are you having a good time?” she says instead. She doesn’t even sound mad she just sounds -- curious.

“Oh, yeah,” Kino drawls, a corner of her mouth hooking up into a smirk. “The best.”

Shirayuki grits her teeth, stomach roiling. “Great.”

“You should find some guys to talk to too,” she tells her absently. “There’s plenty.”

“I don’t really --”

Kino grins as blond, broad-shouldered man returns, solo cup in hand. “Hey, is that for me?”

Shirayuki knows a dismissal when she hears one.

Maybe she’s just bitter, but there’s something wrong in how Kino is going through the frat like tissue.

She bats her eyes, hikes up her skirt a little, leans suggestively and cuts one from the herd. They chat for a bit, he offers a drink, and she just -- says yes. Doesn’t even insist on something closed, doesn’t even watch him get it, just smiles when they come back, pinches the rim between a thumbs and forefinger and --

Grimaces. Gets rid of boy. Rinse, repeat.

Her eyes narrow. Hmm.

Shirayuki catches her when one of the boys wanders away, sticking her finger in the drink.

“What are you doing?” she asks. Kino jumps, guilt etched on every line of her face.

“Ah, shit!” The girl shakes her head. “Listen, I can explain, it’s for the paper. We got tips that girls are getting spiked drinks at Phi Sigma Pi parties --”

Her eyes widen. “So you brought me here?”

“Hey, it’s not like I threw you to the wolves!” She nods toward her hands. “The nail polish. It turns black when it comes in contact with rohypnol and GHB.” She tips back her head with an aggravated sigh. “Not like it matters; no one is taking the bait.”

Her hands fist at her side. She’s shaking. She hasn’t been this angry since, since --

“You didn’t tell me that’s what the polish was for.”

Kino blinks, eyebrows headed toward her hairline. “You’re not mad are you? I wasn’t going to –”

“Let someone rape me?” If she could breathe steam, she would. This isn’t a good time to have a conversation. “I think I just need to – go outside.”

“Yuki --”

She stops, back to her, “I’ll come get you when I want to leave.”

The night is cool enough, though it doesn’t do anything to chill her temper.

Shirayuki tucks herself into one of the adirondack chairs on the back deck; strangely one of the few place devoid of people. All the games are set up on the front lawn, and the dancing inside, so the back is empty save for a couple of girls finishing up a cigarette.

They see her and their conversation halts, expectant. One raises her eyebrows, smoke curling up from between her fingers. She doesn’t tap her foot, but it’s implied.

It’s the sort of thing that on any other night would send her scrambling off with an apology, but tonight, tonight --

She tucks her legs underneath her, stretches, gets comfy. They can feel free to move her themselves, if they feel so strongly about it.

The girl drops the butt, glowering at her as she grinds it out on the wood. Her friends follow suit, tilting their chins up as they sweep inside. It’s the sort of snub that she’ll feel bad about in the morning, wondering if she interrupted some important sorority conclave, but --

Not tonight.

“Hey.” A skinny guy slips into the chair beside her. He’s got the same gold letters on his polo as everyone else; one of the members of Phi Sigma Pi.

She doesn’t really want company, and especially -- not this, not now, but it seems rude to just...brush him off.

“Hi,” she bites out, hoping the tension in her body and her stilted tone give him the go away vibe she’s trying to put out.

“Real nice night isn’t it?”

She catches a sigh in her teeth. Her face is just too friendly.

“Yeah.” The word is clipped, short. “It’s, uh, warm out. I guess.”

You should find some guys to talk to too.

Kino’s voice echoes in her head, and for a long moment she looks at him, all long limbs and disheveled dark hair, and wonders if she should play along. Try to salvage an all right night out of the wreck Kino left her. She doesn’t want anything advanced, but she’s nineteen, and she’s suddenly aware that her last and only kiss was six years ago, by a boy still with braces on --

“Looks like you had a nasty fight with your friend there.”

Or not.

It’s a fair statement, but something in the way he says it sounds off, sounds like he’s a lion trying to coax a limping gazelle away from the herd.

She stares, and he flinches. “You were watching?”

“N-no! It’s just -- you weren’t exactly being subtle.” His demeanor suddenly shifts, the switch from defensive to debonair jarring. “I only saw because I glimpsed your hair from across the room and was...enchanted.”

Her eyelashes flutter in confusion. “My...hair?”

Your hair’s so pretty, Kino voice echoes proudly, I bet a lot of boys tell you they like it.

He leans closer, his arm spreading onto the rest on her chair. “Yes, such a vibrant color.” There’s something like hunger in his eyes when he reaches out, fingers catching the flyaway wisps of her hair --

“Is it real?” he murmurs.

He is far too close.

She jerks, and it’s only the sting of her hand and the way he clutches his that makes her realize she slapped him. Just his hand, but by the angry lines furrowed between his eyes, it was not light.

“Uh,” she hums, cheeks flushing red. “Thank you, but...um...”

His anger is gone in a blink, like it was never there. “I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding the slightest bit contrite, “that was a little forward. I really only came out here to see if you were okay. Would you like to talk? I can get you a drink...?”

This is...enough.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but…” She takes a deep breath. “No. I’m not that mad with my friend. I’m just cooling off. I don’t need, you know, comfort.”

He immediately draws up straight, affronted; practically leaping to his feet. “Well, if that’s the way you feel –”

She nods. “I do.”

His chin lifts, haughty, not done. “I’ll check back on you later.”

If she even bothers to stay that long. She’s willing to talk to Kino if it means she can avoid more of this.

How on earth do people find this fun? “If that’s what you want.”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He doesn’t return, but a few minutes a glassy-eyed frat boy does, twice as wide as him in the shoulders, built like a brick wall.

“Hey, Red,” he says gruffly. She blinks, confused about who he could be talking to until he shoves a solo cup into her hands.

“Raj said he wanted you to have this. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be without a drink.”

She blinks down at it blankly. Well, she didn’t tell him her name, but Red just seems...reductive. Good thing she didn’t make out with him.

“Um, thanks.”

The guy leaves, not even bothering to give any sign of having heard her. She doubts her opinion counted for much with him anyway.

It’s a vibrant pink-red, like watermelon Kool-Aid, and it smells like paint thinner. She isn’t stupid – she’s not going to drink it. For a moment she thinks about dumping it in one of the potted plants lining the deck, but --

But despite how she can count the number of cartoons she’s seen on one hand, she just thinks about it letting up a comic puff of smoke, and the plant dramatically keeling over. She can’t have that sort of thing on her conscience.

But she is…curious.

Her head turns left, turns right --

One pink nail dips in.

It comes out black.

“Kino!” It’s hard to hold the cup and hide her hand that the same time. She misses having pants, or at least pockets; she has to make due with clenching her hand in a fist, hiding it behind her back. It makes her off-balance, almost top-heavy. Not an experience she thinks she’ll often repeat. “Kino!”

Her blonde head jerks up from the drink she’s nursing. “Yuki?”

Shirayuki would normally take a moment to appreciate that Kino at least seems sorry, but now isn’t really the time for that.

Kino frowns, the picture of belligerent contrition. “Hey, I’m really sorry about – woah –”

“No time,” she says, and Shirayuki drags her from her seat, down into one of the empty halls further in the bowels of the house.

Kino looks like she has several things to say about the shabby treatment, but Shirayuki flashes her hand and her eyes go wide.

“Holy fuck?” She stares at the drink. “This?”

Shirayuki nods.

Kino dips her finger in and stares at the black polish like she’s found Spanish gold beneath her mattress.

“Who gave this to you?”

Shirayuki peeks around the corner. She doesn’t see the guy who gave it to her, but she does see –

“Him.”

Kino follows her gaze and --

“Oh my god are you serious?” Kino can barely close her jaw to get words out. “That’s Raj Schenezard. His dad is the president of the university.”

“I’m going to work for the New York Times,” Kino crows over the steady drone of NPR. “I’m going to get a Pulitzer. I’m going to win a Pulitzer and then work for the New York Times.”

Shirayuki’s not so sure about that. “That’s great, Alix.”

“God, we have pictures, Yuki. Pictures.” She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “The only thing we could have done better was get video. But it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Awesome.” It’s probably gauche to remind someone so firmly celebrating that someone tried to drug her, but -- Shirayuki can’t seem to summon the same enthusiasm.

“Jesus. Jesus.” Kino can hardly seem to catch her breath, never mind a thought. “Now all I need is your statement –”

“My statement?” Shirayuki blinks. “We took pictures. You have other girls too right?”

“Well, yeah, but...anonymous.” It seems this is the thing that sobers Kino. “I can have all the proof I want, but people hate facts. I need a name to build this article around. A face. A really cute face that makes everyone think it’s disgusting that boys would try to get under her skirts.”

She’s tired, so tired, and there are lines connecting in her mind that she just -- she just doesn’t want to see. She wants to go home. She wants to bury herself and only resurface for cup noodles and pee breaks.

“I don’t know if I want to do that.” She can’t, she can’t. She doesn’t have security to do something like that. “That could be really bad for me.”

“You want him to get away with it?” Kino snaps, the wheel jerking from how hard she grips is. “You want this to happen to someone else?”

Guilt gnaws at her. “No, of course not. I just…” Her head aches. “There has to be another way.”

Kino swerves up to the curb outside her dorm. “Okay, whatever. I can wait until Monday, okay? Then I need a yes or a no.”

Shirayuki knows her answer, but she nods. She doesn’t want to have a fight. “Okay.”

She waits a day and tries to call Kino. It rings twice, goes to voicemail.

Hey, this is Alix! I’m not here right now --

She drums her fingers on the desk, lets HGTV play out in the background in the common room. Everyone wants hardwood flooring. She digs her toes into the carpet and waits.

Another call, another trip through her voicemail.

She tries again Sunday, three whole times before she breaks, before she takes a deep breath and sits through the whole message.

“Hey, Alix,” she breathes, her fluttering in her chest. “I just…I don’t think I can do this…”

She hauls herself out of bed Monday morning, forcing herself through the motions as she gets ready for class. Cup noodles for breakfast is just...even sadder than she can contemplate, and she forces herself down the hill, stumbling into the DC with swipe-card out reached, her morning greeting to the check-lady muffled behind a hand --

The woman’s gaze flicks behind her. Her mouth purses. She refused to look at her when she takes her card, doesn’t say anything when she returns it.

It’s odd, but -- it’s Monday. No one’s their best on Monday. She steps through the doors to the DC, and --

Everything is utterly silent. No one will look at her, but she can feel their eyes on her nonetheless.

She swallows thickly. There can’t be -- she must be --

It’s all in her head.

She turns, grabbing for one of the student papers from the stand and --

Her own face stares back, smiling in a smart summer dress. Her from three days ago.

SPECIAL EDITION, it reads in big block letters above her, STUDENT COMES FORWARD WITH SEXUAL ASSAULT CHARGES ON PRESIDENT’S SON.

This can’t be. This can’t be.

PHI SIGMA PI UNDER INVESTIGATION, it continues. READ MORE ON PAGE 4.

She flips past, and there she is again, her high school portrait --

Her hand grips the stand, if only to stay upright. Oh god. Oh god.

She’s gonna be sick.

#The Wide Florida Bay #my fic #ans #AND NOW YOUR QUESTIONS ARE ANSWERED #SLIGHTLY

13 notes · View notes

imagininghim · 7 years

Text

Have I told you lately that I love you?

A/N: I had two requests for Joaquin and I figured I could put them together! I hope you enjoy!

Requests: “Can I have a Joaquin imagine? It doesn't have to be anything specific but it would be cool if it could be a female reader and there's some smut. Maybe I convince him not to leave or something like that.” –

“Can you please do a Joaquin imagine where he's bi and with a female reader and she's preppy and safe like Kevin and he takes her virginity after they've hung out for a couple months at the drive in?? Please if this is too much change whatever you want thanksxx” – Anonymous.

Warnings: smut, fingering, losing virginity, female Oral, Bi!Joaquin.

Word count:

THIS IS NSFW.

I was currently sitting in the Drive-Inn with my best friend Joaquin. He had shown up at my trailer earlier saying that he wanted to hang out. It was unusual for Joaquin to show up unannounced but I just shook it off and decided to go hang with him.

We laid in the bed of a truck, cuddled close together. The fall breeze blew past us as I shivered.

“Cold?” Joaquin questioned, I nodded my head while Joaquin pulled me closer. I laid my head on his chest listening to the sound of his heart beating. “(Y/N), I wanted you to hang out for a reason.” I sat up and turned to Joaquin with a smile.

“What is it?” Joaquin sighed before answering.

“Can we go back to your place? I’d rather talk in private.” I nodded as we climbed out of the bed of the truck and into the front seats. Joaquin started up the truck before making his way to my trailer.

We soon pulled up into the trailer park and then to my trailer. I was about to make my way out of the truck when Joaquin opened the door.

“Thank you,” I said as I climbed out of the truck. We walked up to my pathway until we reached my front door. I unlocked the door and we headed in. I threw keys onto the counter before falling onto the couch. “Now, what’s on your mind?” I questioned with a smile. I patted on the seat next to me, motioning him to come sit down.

“Listen, I need to tell you something and I know you’re not going to like it.” I furrowed my eyebrows before sitting up straight. “I’m leaving Riverdale.” I felt my heart break at the sound of his words.

“What? Why?!” I questioned standing up to face him.

“There’s just so much heat on the Serpents right now and I don’t want to get you caught up in it.”

“You won’t! Joaquin, you’re all I have here! I can’t lose you too!” Without a second thought, I pressed my lips to his. Joaquin stood in shock before kissing back. We stood there for what felt like an eternity until I pulled away. “I love you…” Joaquin bent down, taking a hold of my thighs before slamming me against the wall.

“I love you too.” We reconnected our lips as my hands made their way into his hair while he made their way onto my hips. I moaned into the kiss when I felt his hard bulge press into my aching core. Joaquin removed his lips from mine before making his way down my neck.

“Bedroom. Now.” Joaquin lifted me off the wall and made his way down to my bedroom. We reached the room and almost immediately Joaquin threw me down on the bed. I giggled before leaning up on my elbows. “Lose everything but the Serpent jacket,” I said with a wink and a smirk. Joaquin looked at me with shock before quickly replacing it with a smirk. Doing as I said, Joaquin removed everything but his Serpent jacket, he climbed back onto the bed and reconnected our lips.

Joaquin then began to remove my shirt and bra. His lips left mine, making their way down my jaw and onto my neck. Joaquin began to suck on my sweet spot. I moaned out loud making Joaquin smirk against my neck. His fingers made their way to the waistband of my jeans, beginning to undo them. Slipping his hands inside of my jeans and panties.

“Mmm, fuck Joaquin.” I moaned into his ear as his fingers rubbed circles on my clit. The next thing I knew, his fingers slipped into me and began pounding into me relentlessly. I was a moaning mess, I clung to Joaquin’s broad should while profanity’s and his name fell from my lips. I felt my climax beginning to reach it’s peak when he suddenly hauled his fingers out.

“I want you to cum on my cock,” Joaquin whispered into my ear while I instantly became wetter.

“Joaquin, wait,” I spoke up making him sit up with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” I giggled before sitting up as well.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m a virgin.” I whispered the last part. Joaquin��s hand came up and caressed the side of my cheek.

“Baby, if you don’t want to do this we do not have too. We can stop right now.” I shook my head taking his hand in mine.

“I want this. I want you.” Joaquin smiled before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. He then began to remove my jeans and panties. Reaching down, he pulled up his jeans and got his wallet out hauling out a condom. Sliding it down his shaft before lining up with my entrance.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joaquin questioned as I nodded my head while he pushed in. I winced at the sudden rush of pain to my lower abdomen. Joaquin stopped when he saw the look on my face. He stayed still until I felt the pain fade into pleasure.

“Move…” I moaned a little, Joaquin began to thrust which made the pain fade more and more into pleasure. “Faster…” Joaquin lifted my leg, thrusting at a newer angle. I was moaning like crazy. The way he made me feel was driving me closer and closer to my climax. Joaquin was groaning and moaning my name while I clung to him.

“Fuck (Y/N), you feel so good.” I felt my climax begin to reach its peak.

“FUCK JOAQUIN! I’M COMING!” I screamed out as my orgasm hit me. Joaquin’s thrusts began to become sloppy before he slammed into me one last time before hauling out and laying next to me. I rolled over until my head was on his chest. I looked up at him threw my lashes while I spoke.

“I love you, Joaquin. I will stick by your side through thick or thin. Please don’t leave me.” Joaquin reached down and lifted my head up until my eyes met his.

“I won’t leave because I love you too.” A smile came across my face as I reached up and connected our lips. Joaquin kissed back until we pulled away and lead back down, ready to start this new adventure together.

#joaquin #joaquin smut #joaquin dirty imagine #imagine joaquin #bi!joaquin #riverdale #cw riverdale #drive in #smut #bi!joaquin smut

81 notes · View notes

ruined-rp · 5 years

Photo

Caroline Forbes ↠ 24 ↠ Vampire ↠ Newling

Not All Monsters Do Monstrous Things

In Mystic Falls, Caroline Forbes was your typical, preppy blonde socialite. She was the head of the Cheer leading Squad, prom queen and all round popular girl. She was never one with the plan, unless that plan involved a party committee of some description... and she never saw it coming. How could she? How could anyone? One thing Caroline was certain of, waking up dead was not part of the plan.

The move to New Orleans was one met with an endless stream of hugs and tears from her mum, the only person she regretted leaving but she looked to her future with a bright hope. One that was squashed the day she’d woken up in that hospital bed after the accident. She was the spitting image of Elena- Caroline didn’t understand it then. Fast forward six months and she’s not entirely sure she regrets the change. It wasn’t just her DNA that was altered that day.

The Past That Haunts & The Connections That Bind

▶ STEFAN & DAMON SALVATORE: Caroline can’t deny the role the brothers have played in her growth as a Vampire. They kept her hauled up in the Salvatore Boarding House in the beginning, feeding her blood bags and teaching her to control the hunger. She’s grateful for their help and couldn’t imagine what life would be like now if it weren’t for their guidance- even as she dreams of biting their heads off for their stubborn arrogance.

▶ LYDIA MARTIN: Two Queen Bees, sitting in a tree. For all intents and purposes, they shouldn’t get along. Opposites are the ones meant to attract and yet Lydia is her equal. Two peas in a pod in almost every way and she can’t help but admire the feisty redhead.

▶ MATT DONOVAN: She’s noticed him around town a lot, an Officer of the Law. He has no clue that the Supernatural world exists, as far as she could tell but damn if he couldn’t work that uniform...

Oh How She Whispers In The Night

Mentioned in The Following Bios: Bonnie Bennett, Hayley Labonair, Matt Donovan, Rebekah Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore

Occupation: Student at NOU/Concierge at The Palace Royale Faceclaim: Candice King Status: Caroline is Open!

#tvd rp #to rp #tw rp #lsrp #caroline forbes #candice king #candice accola #the vampire diaries #openf #open

0 notes

healthnotion · 5 years

Text

How to Wear a Denim Jacket

It took Levi Strauss a decade after creating the world’s first blue jeans to realize that the material that worked so well to clothe a man’s lower half, also worked brilliantly to outfit his upper half as well.

The modern man needn’t take so long to make that leap.

Denim not only makes for some of the best-looking and easy-wearin’ pants, it also makes for a handsome and rugged jacket.

140 years after first outfitting men who worked on railroads and ranches, the jean jacket continues to serve as functional, low maintenance outerwear; its durable material provides decent protection to one’s arms and torso, doesn’t wrinkle, takes a beating, and lasts for the long haul. Light in weight, it’s a great jacket for those just-a-bit-chilly days that mark the seasons of spring and fall.

With a collar and a structure that typically tapers to the waist, the denim jacket also creates a more masculine silhouette and adds to the visual appeal that arises from layering in ways that faintly echo a sports jacket, but with an entirely different vibe — casual, rebellious, oppositional-to-the-suits. Thrown over a t-shirt, it instantly adds a lot more interest to an otherwise basic get-up.

Given these assets in function and form, why are guys often hesitant to make what is really a rather simple staple of menswear part of their wardrobe?

The fact that the denim jacket is associated with miners, cowboys, truck drivers, and rockers adds to its iconoclastic appeal, but at the same time, guys may worry that its tough and cool legacy might not sit comfortably on their shoulders; they don’t want to look like a wannabe or have the jacket come off as “costumey.” They also don’t want to look like a hipster who’s trying too hard to channel the ethos of blue collar workwear. Or maybe a fella just associates the jacket with the 1980s and wonders if they’re still in style.

Well, the good news is that these hang-ups needn’t be an issue: a denim jacket can suit a man whether or not he swings a hammer or slays a guitar, can be adopted in a way that’s both natural and sharp, and when worn well, will always be, no matter the decade, perennially in style.

Choosing a Denim Jacket

No matter the era, the denim jacket remains a sweet sartorial staple.

If you’d like to add a denim jacket to your closet, choosing one comes down to thinking about two main qualities: fit and color.

Fit. As with all garments, fit is king with the jean jacket. You don’t want the jacket to either be too baggy, nor too tight. A well-fitted jacket should exhibit the following qualities:

Fits over the thickest top you plan to wear it with.

Can be buttoned up without tightness or pulling when worn over a t-shirt (denim jackets are not commonly buttoned up, but can be; if you do button up, still leave at least the top and bottom buttons undone).

Fabric hangs down in straight planes.

Bottom hem hits at about the hips; the denim jacket is a shorter jacket, and the bottom hem shouldn’t extend much past your beltline, with about the middle of your fly/upper thigh being the longest it should fall. However, the jacket shouldn’t be too short either; if it creeps up to your waistline and above, it will look too cropped, and begin to approach a more feminine style of jean jacket.

Ends of sleeves hit a little past the bends of the wrists, but don’t extend past the creases of the thumbs.

You’re able to cross and swing your arms comfortably; if you find denim fabric feels too constricting (this can be the case with darker and raw denim; lighter washes will typically be pretty soft), look for a jacket made with a bit of stretchy material added to the cotton fabric.

Color. While denim jackets are available in a variety of colors these days, blue is the most classic and versatile. Of blue jackets, their “formality” ranges along with the washes of their denim. All jean jackets are inherently very casual, but one made with a dark wash denim will be slightly “dressier,” while one with a light wash denim will be the very most casual. A medium wash sits right in the middle and is arguably your best pick — it’s versatile, classic-looking, and soft.

What to Wear With a Denim Jacket

Denim jackets aren’t versatile in the way sports jackets are — unlike the latter, they can’t be dressed up or down to meet the requirements of just about every dress code. While some very fashion-forward sartorialists will put a jean jacket over a dress shirt and tie (and even a waistcoat), the contrast between the more formal underlayer and the very casual outerwear is too jarring to make for a good look.

Denim jackets are versatile, however, in that they pair well with most every other garment that resides in the casual category of your wardrobe. These pairings can still be more or less ideal, however, and we’ll delineate that spectrum below.

On Bottom

The one rule you’ve probably heard about wearing a jean jacket is to never do “double denim”; that is, you shouldn’t wear a denim jacket on top of denim jeans. The result of this pairing is what’s called the “Canadian tuxedo,” named after an incident in the 1950s, when Bing Crosby was banned from a swanky Canadian hotel for wearing an all-denim get-up, and the Levi’s company responded by making him an entirely denim tuxedo to rock.

The reason that “double denim” is considered a faux pas is that when your denim jacket and jeans are too matchy-matchy, it looks like you’re wearing a weird pseudo suit. But avoiding this combo isn’t a hard and fast rule. While it’s more difficult to pull off well, you can wear a denim jacket with jeans, as long as you make sure there’s a good amount of contrast between the two pieces. That is, instead of wearing a medium wash jacket with medium wash jeans, you wear a darker jacket with lighter jeans, or vice versa. You can also wear jeans in a color other than blue — black or charcoal can look good with a denim jacket.

And you know what, if you’re a little daring, you can even break the rule entirely and wear a jacket and jeans that are close in color. I do! I just like my so-called Canadian tuxedo, and don’t care if it’s “wrong.” I guess that’s the rebel in me, eh?

If you’re not sure if you can pull off double denim, or just don’t like the look of it yourself, it’s best to just heed the proscription against it. Below are common and safe guidelines for how to clothe your lower half while wearing a denim jacket, with options ranked from less to more ideal:

Poor:

Dress trousers (too much high low/contrast)

Jeans that closely match the color of your jacket

Alright:

Jeans in a color that contrasts with the jacket

Joggers

Best:

Chinos/khakis (in brown, tan, olive, gray, etc.)

Corduroys

As far as your footwear goes, think casual: canvas/leather/suede sneakers, leather boots, chukkas, etc.

On Top

When it comes to what to wear under your denim jacket, a single layer is often all you need; while additional layers can be interesting, you don’t want to or need to add much bulk under a denim jacket. A thin base layer will let the jacket hang comfortably, and without constriction. Jean jackets just lend themselves to a more simple, “spare” look too.

Below we break down your underlayer choices from unadvisable to can’t-miss:

Poor:

Button-up dress shirts (too formal)

Technical-fabric workout shirts (too casual, even for a denim jacket, with a shiny texture that doesn’t complement the jacket’s matte ruggedness)

Chambray button-downs (while chambray is technically a different fabric from denim, it looks close enough to it to make this another iteration of “double denim”)

Alright:

Sweaters (some thin and very casual sweaters can work, but many can look funny under a jean jacket)

Polos (an okay pairing, but the preppy nature of the shirt clashes a bit with the jacket’s more rough-n-ready vibe)

Button-down shirts (in a very casual workplace, a jean jacket can serve as almost a kind of sports jacket substitute when worn over a button-down; a checkered print is a nice look here)

Best:

T-shirts (of all kinds, but the plain white tee is an especially classic choice)

Long- or short-sleeve henleys

Hoodies (evinces a more “urban” look)

Flannel/plaid shirts

As you mix your bottom and top layers with your denim jacket, you can prevent your get-up from looking too “costumey” by avoiding pairing too many things from one “archetype.” For example, if you wear a flannel shirt under your jacket, don’t also wear leather work boots and a beanie. Or don’t wear a white tee under your jacket, along with black jeans, and black work boots, unless you’re a biker, or intentionally going for that look. Just let the jean jacket be a natural accompaniment to the other casual clothes you already wear.

A denim jacket makes a great addition to a man’s casual wardrobe — there’s a good chance that deep down you want one, so get one. And then start wearing the heck out of it. It only looks and feels better with age. Clothing is only as authentic as the real use you get out of it.

The post How to Wear a Denim Jacket appeared first on The Art of Manliness.

How to Wear a Denim Jacket published first on https://mensproblem.tumblr.com

0 notes

felicezhukov · 7 years

Text

:: Dear Nicolas Jaar ::

Its one of those days, I’ve just spilled my second pint of water, the first was earlier when I was waking up, lowering myself back into bed to write this letter to you, I called myself a stupid bitch when it happened in lieu of the fact my ex wasn’t there to do it, no shouting resounded or escalation occurred, I was alone. I’m clumsy, I break stuff, knock things over, get caught on women’s scarves on buses, or stuck in my ear phone wires at Tesco’s counters, laugh so loud sometimes that people look at me in shock, a couple of days ago my ex said this to me regarding my angel: “You haven’t scared her off have you? The monies still there?” The final countdown before my exodus has started, its less than a week till I move, less than a week till I, probably, throw the majority of my possessions in the bin. I guess when I mentioned the week had been extraordinary in my Friday letter it might not seem to the typical observer that anything particularly special has taken place but my soul and my state of mind have undergone transformative journeys, spiralling left, right, up and down, through anxiety, heavy almost flabby contentment, absolute jubilation, scuttling fearful tremors, in the gaps between these ferocious states I find myself crying, it’s overwhelming. I filmed a performance on Sunday night that seems to encapsulate my current state, which I’ll go in to more detail about a little later, it charts this emotional instability, despite that not being the plan, within it I am every facet of myself, hopefully it’ll be online by the end of this mammoth admin session I’m undertaking today.

As a performance artist I think thats my schtick, my performances aren’t really so much dedicated enactments but instead just me, raw, frank, channeling all my elements, now I’ve poured over my past in detail to put it all online I notice it’s been the theme throughout my oeuvre.

Right now I’m paralysed, I can’t do anything I normally do, no dressing up, no reading, no flaneurism. I keep getting the bus, I feel a resistance to my usual routes through the city, there’s something painful in the prospect of walking through Victoria or Haggerston park at the moment, I see shadows in the tree’s of these cherished spaces. Shadows of anticipation, shadow’s of love and savagery, shadows of loss. Give me a week and this should all be a memory, a shadow in its own right, at least I hope so.

It need’s to, and will, change dramatically, last time I moved away from my ex things dipped though and my fear is this will happen again. I’m going to have to start balancing my finance’s, something that takes a lot of discipline for me, I have this issue with money, it causes a violent reaction in me when I have it, a physical repulsion, a need to expunge and rid myself of it, like I’ve been overcome by a demon that needs to be exorcised. The concept of accumulating this hateful element fills me with dread and desire, which must somehow in part explain why I’m so useless at selling what I create and pushing my wares on people.

There’s this absurd sense of nobility coursing through my veins, I see it in my father as well, I find it the whole concept of marketing myself and pushing myself on others scandalous, I’d much prefer people come to me of their own free will, heart and soul aligned. In a society where the normality is to be the sum of our buying power I feel a sense of pride in this, so much is being sold to us on various levels of our consciousness, cookies, buses swathed in posters, soundcloud adverts, asos emails, suggested everything, marketing is the very air we breath, especially in a metropolis where the eyeline is never not inundated with messages of potential happiness, just a tap away.

But thats not to say I’m not happy to share, that must already be clear in these letters, all my insides are out and on display in various walled gardens across the internet. This sale is just causing me a lot of internal bleeding, now I’ve catalogued the 190+ items it incorporates and uploaded them, I’m drowning, how do I rid myself of these objects in a diligent and respectful way? The restful mornings of self guided education have been replaced by incessant letters to you (these are important for giving this whole thing a soul), answering messages, nagging, tagging, planning, photographing, uploading, editing, despairing, the saving grace of this upward struggle is that I’m allowing myself to do yoga and categorise it by writing everything to you, I need soul food right now.

As an example this is my to do list today:

* make 6x animations / 6x written pieces / 6x mini videos from pre recorded footage to upload on to instagram (this has been on the list for days, it keeps getting pushed back)

* go to studio, take more detail shots of items I want to put on ebay as this will increase their chances of being sold, items on list include my wedding ring, larger paintings, designer clothes then come home, pay my ebay fee’s so my access is unrestricted and upload everything including necessary details – then post this to my social media accounts

*promote my sale on facebook by linking from twitter and poss instagram, adding to community groups, messaging friends

* pay rent to my studio’s then email them to ask about my move and if I will need to hire a skip

* type up this letter, post to facebook and screenshot, post to twitter, tag you

*answer and correspond with all the beautiful people that are messaging me about the sale, answer questions, like comments and reply

* edit the film I made on Sunday, render, upload to youtube, share on social media platforms, post on my site

* eat? drink?

* do yoga

* wash hair?

* put together synopsis and brief for arts programme I am curating for a meeting tomorrow, consolidate the idea

This is the bare bones of my itinerary, I’ve done 2 of the tasks so far, I know its not unusual for a Londoner to be so busy and I bet your schedule looks like this sometimes, but really I’d just like to crawl in to bed and read and write a little and then fall asleep. This is probably the apex of my project now and there will be a brief reprieve, but before I cast everything asunder I have to do my life some justice so I’m not cursing myself in future years, and I’m working for the next 4 days, 12 hour shifts nearly daily so its the last push before the major haul the beginning of next week.

Relentlessness.

So then…. Part 3 // Sunday

On Sunday night I filmed myself performing for 6 hours plus, by all rights is was as demanding as the mermaid descent, but it was impromptu, I wasn’t naked, covered in paint, fucking 2 cucumbers, so it didn’t quite have the same edge.

I came to on the studio of my floor rolled up in a blanket on a duvet cover I use as a rug of sorts, thick white make up and glitter caked in my eyes, permanent wine coloured lip stick still reverberating over my lips. I’d passed out re-watching the footage I’d taken of myself staging 7 scene’s, dressed in variously important pieces from my wardrobe, singing some of the my most treasured songs, or stumbling over them in the case of witness the fitness by roots manuva. In the background the sonic landscape was shaped by various mixes of yours I’ve found on soundcloud, bleating from my i phone speakers.

Firstly I crawled around the central space in a turquoise swimming costume, shooting myself coming towards the camera from various angles, trying to make creative use of the runway like black borders which are the echoes of the descent installation. Then I shimmied and pulsated in terracotta sequins, attempting to channel my inner seductress, envisaging jessica rabbit, whilst adorning myself in the bloodletting costume pieces. Following that I hit things with ping pong bats and comically attempted to mc, stumbling over gorgeous lyrics and twerking in my adidas, I was with the mermaids for this and I’m sure they were silently mocking me. Next the black lipstick and adventure time sweatshirt were paraded around, as a backdrop to me turning myself into a human display case, though the actual performance was probably the best. I then threw on my big white shirt (not the alexander wang, but the one I wore to my little brothers wedding), I hugged the unicorn, blew bubbles and sang behind acrylic glass. The penultimate scene saw me dress in preppy tan vintage adidas shorts and a pink silk bomber, clumsily adorning myself in all my jewellery and gratingly bursting through lyrics. Finally at 2am I somehow managed to strap myself in to my wedding dress, read a harrowing letter from my teenage self and blurrily cry through the lyrics of one of the most potent songs I’ve ever met. But I didn’t pass out in my wedding dress, though that’d be a more aesthetic turn.

The film is as if you’re watching a young girl raid her mums jewellery and clothes collection and film herself in her bedroom, except this girl has the weight of adulthood clearly marked on her shoulders. The developed pains of experience, etched on her face. Having your mixes as a background noise wasn’t intended that night, and in a way it really detracts from my singing, but I was all alone in my studio building and having your music on made me feel less scared.

It might be that I could of made better use of my time on a more organised aspect of this project, but these performances are the legacy of my life thus far, I’m manically creating them as documentation, because very soon it will all be gone. I want proof for myself that it did all really exist, and it was beautiful.

That video should be uploaded later today.

I hope you have something like yoga in your life to centre you when things are chaos.

#Nicolas Jaar #nicolasjaar

0 notes