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generalfoolish · 2 years

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Volume One: The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter

Chapter One: Take Your Soma

You're a senior at Hawkins High, and you utilize Eddie Munson as most do, for weed. On a whim, you offer to tutor him. In exchange, Eddie gives you free weed, and without meaning too you both find yourself in deeper than you originally meant.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, drug references/drug use, reader is 18+ and you should be too

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I have Eddie Munson rot, and it is fatal, guys. I literally couldn't stop thinking about a line Eddie says in ep. 7, so I made an entire story out of it. Hope you enjoy it! First time writing for Eddie, so let me know how that is. Also! I added him to my tag list thing, so if you want to be tagged in this/future one shots send me a message or whatever :) Also! Thanks @firefly-graphics for the sick page dividers that fit our boy perfectly <3

Master List | Tag List Form | Eddie Munson Master List | Chapter Two

You had fallen in love with Eddie Munson completely by accident.

Not that anyone ever meant to fall in love, and especially not with the bad boy of their small town. It had started innocently enough, you had agreed to tutor him, in exchange for heavily discounted baggies of weed. And since he was already repeating his senior year and once again failing two or three subjects, it had been an easy sell.

Everything else came easily, almost too easily. He charmed you so thoroughly that you hadn't realized how completely and utterly fucked you were until it was too late.

Eddie had told you to meet him at the usual spot, a picnic table out behind the school, on a well-beaten, yet somehow forgotten, path. You'd cut your English class to meet him, knowing he was missing the same class, and you had opened the encounter with a quote from the book that was currently assigned: Brave New World.

"If one's different, one's bound to be lonely." You declared as you approached the table. Eddie was already sitting on the bench, black lunchbox in front of him, tearing apart a leaf. At your introduction, his eyes flit over to you, eyebrows pulled up in confusion, dark eyes amused.

You realized too late that you were a massive, fucking dork. You had just quoted your assigned reading to your fucking dealer. The silence that had followed had nearly consumed you, and you were about to turn heel and run–just sprint back to the safety of the high school when he finally spoke.

"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger." He quoted back, standing from his seat, and closing the short distance between you. His boots crunched the pine needles as he approached, and your mouth dried as his voice dropped the closer he got. "I want freedom, I want goodness…I want sin." He came to a stop right in front of you, so close you could smell him, the smoke and musk that was all Eddie, and he cocked his head to the side, dark eyes raking over your face and then further still.

You felt self-conscious, heat rising up your neck, while simultaneously sinking lower in your gut. You wondered if he noticed the band t-shirt you'd thrown in this morning was the same one you had worn a few days before, or if he noticed that your flannel was fraying in places. You had a laundry list of flaws, working your way down them quickly, before you noticed he was speaking again.

"What?" You managed, literally shaking your head to clear the unwanted thoughts swirling there. Eddie merely smiled, his dark eyes softening as he searched your face.

"I asked how you liked the book. You know, for Ms. Stevenson's." The smile he gave you nearly knocked you out; the bright, white spectacle splitting his face in two and bringing such incomprehensible warmth to his dark eyes.

"Huxley is a genius. Are you kidding? How did I like it? I checked out 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 at the library. I'm obsessed with this sort of apocalyptic, dystopian future world. I mean, if you think for even one second that this isn't possible, that the government couldn't effectively stag–oh gosh, sorry." You apologized quickly, cutting yourself off immediately. Your mother had warned you that you would turn off everyone if you kept rambling anytime anyone asked you about something you liked.

You sheepishly met Eddie's eyes, expecting him to look annoyed or confused, but you were met with excitement, his eyes visibly darkened and a knowing smirk dancing on his lips.

"Why would you apologize? Or stop? I was right there with you, Savage." His smirk is contagious. You bit your lip at the nickname, plucked from the mind of Huxley. You were excited to have found a common point of interest between yourself and Eddie, beyond the weed.

"I didn't think you'd be interested." You deflect, heading to the picnic table, to put some distance between you and Eddie, who was looking better and better the longer you chatted. You reprimanded yourself, knowing it would be unwise to get involved with him. His reputation was all bullshit conjured up by whatever sports team, heartthrob was popular at the moment; but there was a dangerous undercurrent with Eddie. He may not have been sacrificing virgins, but you knew enough to know that a man who looked like that certainly had seen his share of action.

Normally, your deals were quick. In the middle of the day, between classes, underhanded passes in the hall. Today, you had too much time to admire the curls that tangled around his face, the soft pink of his lips that were curling up into a soft smile. Today, you had too much time to think about what he’d look like smiling down at you while murmuring in your ear.

"I always read the sci-fi ones, Savage. It's everything else that I'm shit with." Eddie mused, perching on the opposite side of the table; either gracious enough to ignore your internal battle, or oblivious enough not to notice.

"Oh, come on, Eddie. You can't expect me to believe that you're just naturally so bad." You argued, the words coming out braver than you felt. You were swept up by the confidence of them, trying to ignore how they tore from you, as if each syllable was barbed.

"What? Am I supposed to believe that you're naturally so good?" He countered easily, an eyebrow glancing upwards to prove his point. With his head cocked to the side, his hair swept off his neck, and you wanted to lurch forward and take the skin for yourself. The unforgiving heat of early afternoon had sweat beading on your forehead.

You considered it for a moment. You didn't have to study, but you weren't inherently good.

You weren't on track to be Valedictorian or anything, but you were a decent student. You rarely needed to study on your own, since you usually had a good grasp on most of the topics. But you had never considered tutoring to be within your wheelhouse.

That's if he was talking about your academic prowess, though you had your doubts. You felt it was more likely he was alluding to morality. Were you really such a “good girl?” You were buying drugs from him, afterall. It was hard to read him, though. His defenses were too high to breach in one sitting. But you could see the beginnings of cracks, the places where you could slip in, and find yourself behind Eddie "the Freak" Munson's cold exterior.

Before your mind had caught up, before you even realized what you were saying the words floated into the space between you and Eddie, simmering in the hot September air, drying up as they reached the planks of the picnic table.

"I could just teach you."

Eddie cut his eyes at you quickly, tracing the contours of your face with his sharp glare. If he liked what he saw, it wasn't reflected in his dark stare.

"Why?"

"Why not? You clearly could use a little extra help."

"What's that supposed to fucking mean?"

"You really wanna go for a three-peat of your senior year?"

"No. But why would you help me? What's in it for you?"

"I don't know…uhm…" You glanced around the small table, hoping for inspiration, when your eyes landed on his black, metal lunchbox. "Discounted weed?" You licked your lips in thought, figured that would be an even enough trade. You worked part time as a carhop, and you blew through your tips every week restocking from Eddie.

He hummed for a moment, the noise dying in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a snorted laugh.

You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, spinning out scenario after scenario of how this could be a trap, or how it could go wrong. You were thinking about your own worst-case scenarios, wondering how closely they matched with his. He barked out a dry laugh, drawing your attention once again.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and winced when his rings caught the knots, before bringing a few strands to his mouth–another nervous tic of his, you supposed.

“Fuck, fine!” He finally spits out, the exclamation closer to a question than a statement. He turns away from you, and slugs the closest tree. His fist is just shy of the bark when he relaxes, barely grazing his knuckles across the surface. He shakes his shoulders as he repeats the motion with his other arm.

“Fine.” You answer, not moving from your spot at the table. As long as you’ve known Eddie, he struggled to sit still, but you’d never seen him so worked up–so anxious.

“Fine.” He mutters again, still punching the tree.

“We can start this afternoon, I’m off for once.” You begin, standing. You’d been out here too long, and you couldn’t afford to miss your next section. Neither could Eddie.

“Meet me in the parking lot, after the last period.” He grunts out, finally facing you. His eyes are dark again, flitting over every detail of you, like he’s trying to etch this moment in his mind.

“Yep.” You agree, knowing he could drive you both, saving you the trouble of walking. You walked a few steps away from the clearing, away from him, when you thought better of it. “Oh and Eddie?” You called, looking over your shoulder. His eyes flicked up to your face, and you almost lost your confidence, knowing he had been checking out your ass.

“Hmm?” He mused, raising an eyebrow at you, before his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

“Don’t skip any more classes.” You urged, before turning on your heel and leaving for good. Heat engulfed your chest and neck, and when you sat down in your next class, you could still feel Eddie’s dark gaze on you.

You sat your tray down at your usual table, and slipped into the seat. Meeting Eddie during the second period had been a mistake, you’d barely been able to concentrate during your third period, and you’d grabbed your lunch in a complete daze. If you could make it through the last two periods of the day, it’d be a miracle. You were engulfed with thoughts of Eddie, consumed by how his brown eyes had easily shifted into something darker. You couldn’t stop imagining your own hands carded through his brown curls, delighting in what sounds you could draw from him when you tugged through the knots.

It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about Eddie in compromising situations. It was, however, the first time you’d considered those thoughts outside of the safety of your room, late at night.

“Earth to Space Cadet.” Robin greeted, snapping her fingers in front of your face, after putting her own tray down. You startled and offered her a weak smile, and picked at your nails.

“How’s Scoops?” You asked, deflecting her curious eyes with your own question.

“Eh, same as usual. How about Parker’s?” You shrugged, taking a bite of the questionable pizza you had grabbed for lunch.

“Tips are good enough. If only you skated, we could work together.” You teased, batting your eyelashes at her.

“We wouldn’t get anything done, dork.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes. You settled in an easy quiet while you ate, until a large commotion drew both of your attention to the other side of the cafeteria.

“Just The Freak, I think.” Robin muttered, eyes landing back on her meal. You were even more concerned now, trying to see through the wall of people. “Are you worried about Eddie?” Robin asked, narrowing her eyes at you. You blinked, searching for a non-incriminating answer. Of course, she saw through you.

“You don’t!” You frowned, and looked back at the crowd.

“Well, he’s no Tammy Thompson, that’s for sure.” You murmur, trying to deflect, but Robin’s quicker than you are.

“Dude! You’re into Eddie Munson? Isn’t he like 30?” She laughed behind her milk carton, and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.” You grumbled. “It’s only his second senior year.”

“Only?” She laughed, and you pressed your face in your hands.

“It’s not like that, Robin.” You groaned, the words weak even to your ears. “I just agreed to tutor him, that’s all. It’s for a discount on weed.” You admit, hoping that she’ll ease up with that information. She hummed, but didn’t push any further. This conversation was far from over, you could tell.

“What do you think that’s about anyway?” You asked, biting into the now cold slice. She shrugged.

“There was a new kid, your class. Maybe he’s making himself a name?” You shrugged back, wiping your mouth with a napkin, and standing.

“I gotta swing by the library before my next class. See you tomorrow?” She nodded and you headed off, swinging your backpack onto your shoulder and training your eyes ahead of you. You wouldn’t look at the crowd, and you wouldn’t look for anyone in particular.

You threw the remains of your lunch away before stacking your tray at the counter, and headed out of the cafeteria. You looked down at your shoe, noticing that the knot had begun to loosen and decided to fix it quickly.

In the second that it took you to look down and back up again, you managed to crash into someone, and knock their stack of papers out of their hands.

“God! Could you watch where you’re going?” Nancy cried, throwing her hands up defensively.

“Sorry!” You apologized quickly, kneeling to help pick up the scattered papers. She relaxed when she noticed you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. Are you okay?” She asked, a sheepish smile on her face. You nodded.

“Fine, you?” She nodded, before sighing loudly.

“It’s not a problem. I’m just stressed, I have this party tomorrow with Steve.” She told you, chuckling nervously.

“Oh, for Halloween?” You asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy. Nancy Wheeler was your cousin, and your mom never let you forget how perfect she was. Modest, beautiful, smart, and tenacious–all the things you aren’t. Of course, Steve Harrington would love her. Who wouldn’t?

“Yeah, I’m just nervous I think.” She whispered to the ground, and you swallowed the heavy feeling in your chest.

“You’ll be fine, Nance.” You assured her, bumping her shoulder with your fist. She smiled in return.

“You’re right. Thanks for the help. Are you coming over soon?” She asked, standing up and taking the stack of papers back from you.

“My mom hasn’t been feeling the best, but maybe I’ll stop by alone.” You explained, hoping she wouldn’t press for details. She didn’t.

“That’d be great. Bye!” You waved back, and bit your lip.

Perfect Nancy was worried about her perfect relationship, what a joke, you thought bitterly. You sank to your knee and retied your shoe, before continuing your journey to the library.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x f!reader #Eddie munson #stranger things

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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

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You've Got Desire, So Let It Out: Chapter 4

You love your job. Being a teacher is what you've always wanted to do. But being in charge all day can be draining. You are looking for someone to take that control away for a while. When Robin and Steve set you up with Eddie, an old friend from high school, sparks fly! One day you ask Eddie to come volunteer in your classroom and he's more than happy to oblige. But what happens when the inevitable discipline issue arises and you have to use your teacher voice in front of him for the first time? Let's just say Eddie enjoys it a bit too much.

☆Tags: 21+ MDNI, switch Eddie Munson, switch reader, BDSM, kinky sex, choking, dirty talk, dom/sub, impact play, bratting, degradation, praise, humiliation, restraints, mean dom Eddie, overstimulation, orgasm control

Chapter 4/12 ☆ Previous chapter → Next chapter

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link! ☆

As it did when you were young, the end of summer came far too fast.

Every moment of time spent with Eddie only reinforced what he had said to you on that first night of your trip, you were crazy about each other. You’d think after such a short amount of time together, spending a month nonstop with your new boyfriend and his three band mates wouldn’t be a good idea, but it was quite the opposite.

Sure, you did end up sleeping for nearly two solid days after getting home but even after the trip you and Eddie spent all summer together. You enjoyed time with your friends, playing dungeons and dragons, and crashing band practice where Eddie couldn’t believe that you were perfectly content to just read while they practiced. You even managed to encourage Eddie to embrace his inner teenager again by sneaking off in the middle of the night with you to go swimming in the lake.

Yes, just as it had done year after year since before you could remember, summer vacation was over and back to school was upon you.

“You don’t have students tomorrow do you?” Eddie casually asked as the two of you sat in his trailer the night before you returned to work.

“No,” you crawled into his lap and threw your head around dramatically in a circle while hanging off his shoulders, giving yourself a headrush just to make a point. “I’ll be trapped in a vortex of endless meetings, professional developments, where the agendas are just copy and pasted from last year with a different date at the top. Followed by not nearly enough time to put my room back the way it was, but all I really want will be my class list so I can spend far too much time writing children’s names on things, but I won’t actually get that until probably next week.”

He laughed at your theatrics, “Wow sweetheart that sounds dreadful.”

“Tomorrow will likely consist of breakfast that is scheduled on the agenda to take 30 minutes but in reality will last about 90 minutes. After that, our principal will put us through the yearly ritual of getting to know you activities for the new staff and before you know it I will be home having accomplished next to nothing productive. Definitely not making me feel anymore ready for students to walk into my room come the first day,” you gripped him like a koala in a tree as you admittedly acted like a child who also didn’t want to go back to school.

Eddie’s hands rubbed your lower back, he laughed and switched on his dungeon master voice, “You and you alone have been appointed with this quest Miss Lady Octavia Loveheart III, the future nerds and freaks of the world need you!”

Kissing his neck you felt yourself cheer up, “Thank you sir. I needed that.” A devious look flickered in your eyes, “I can think of a few other things I need.”

“Yeah? Like what, I wonder.”

“Can we bring out the handcuffs?” you pressed your pelvis down into his crotch and grinded your hips against his hardening length.

“You need to be restrained, sweet thing?” his hand palmed at his belt buckle, “Who needs handcuffs? I can keep you where I want you with just my hands.”

“Those are some big words sir. Are you sure you can back them up?”

He startled you with his hand flying up from between his legs and gripping your throat, “Do your worst sweetheart. I told you before, I always get what I want.”

“If you want to lock me up,” you wrestled free from his grip and clumsily hurried out of his lap, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Your heart raced as you ran from him. The sounds of the trailer rattling with each footstep. Assessing your limited hiding places as you darted passed the bathroom and the small closet, you ended up at the dead end that was his bedroom. You closed the door behind you. Darkness filled the room as you hid on the floor along the side of his bed.

For a moment the trailer was quiet.

He was testing you. Pushing your limits. Giving you time to spend up in your head wondering what he was doing or if he was following you. Letting your heart rate increase little by little. Waiting. Anticipation building. The quiet quickly becomes unnerving. No relief came. Just when you thought you couldn’t handle anymore. You finally heard his footsteps.

They started slow. Getting closer and closer to the door. Each thump deliberate as he otherwise silently walks towards the bedroom.

A chilling laugh hits your ear, “It’s so cute that you think you can hide from me sweetheart.”

The door to the bedroom pushes open slowly, “Especially since I know damn well,” he left an intentional pause. You could see his shadow cast along the ground from where he leaned in the doorway, “You want to be caught. You want me to grab those small wrists of yours and pin your arms above your head. Moving your body in any way I see fit.” You didn’t move. All your focus was trained on keeping your breaths level and as quiet as possible.

Finally he entered the room, “Come on out little lamb. I don’t bite– much.”

You wanted the game to continue. The tiny giggle that you let out wasn’t intentional but as soon as it happens, trying to hide it is useless. He steps along the side of the bed and stands in front of you, “There you are. Now are you ready to play nice?”

You stare up at him with a smirk, assessing your options as you look for an escape.

“Should’ve had a plan sweet little lamb,” he eyes you as if he already played out every possible move you could have made in this moment. He knelt down in front of you, “Looks like there’s nowhere left for you to run.”

Chance of success was slim but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained. So you tried anyway. Pressing yourself up with a quick motion and making it about one foot before you feel Eddie’s arms entrap you.

“Oh. So close,” he pulled you up onto the bed, “Just not fast enough.”

You wiggled and tugged against his hold on you, “No fair! You made me laugh! You cheater.”

“All’s fair sweetheart. Now be a good girl and stay still.”

“Make me.”

His lip curled into a smile, this tongue sticking out and toying with his top lip drove you absolutely wild, “If you insist.” It didn’t take him long to get you on your back and straddle your hips, “You look so good down there beneath me. What’s your color, my sweet little lamb?”

“Green sir,” you didn’t let his attentiveness ensure his victory. Even as you encouraged him to continue, you didn’t stop trying to escape.

“So feisty,” you were completely pinned down by his frame, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“And I thought you said you could keep me in place with just your hands. Looks to me like I’m making you work for it. Is that sweat I see? Maybe you should go get those cuffs–” he caught your throat in his hand.

“And let you escape again? Do I look stupid to you sweetheart?” he squeezed harder, “Answer me.”

“N-no sir,” you felt your head get fuzzy as he choked you.

“Hmm, fuck your neck looks so good with my rings. Your pretty face is getting more flushed by the second,” he listened to the gasps and whimpers you made. He amused himself with a playful tone, “Do you need something? You know what to do if you need me to stop.” Your eyes rolled back into your head. He pressed sharply with his thumb. There was a sudden sharpness in his voice, “Look at me. I know you can take more than this. Going soft on me so soon?”

You looked up into his eyes, their very gaze willing some of the brattiness to evaporate. The pressure around your neck loosened. He massaged gently letting you just breathe for a moment, but not too long, “Come on.”

“Wh–” before you could finish even a single word he picked you up and swung you over his shoulder. He carried you the short distance to where his handcuffs and chain hung from the wall.

“Can’t have you escaping again. You’re so sweet if I leave you alone anyone could just come snatch up what belongs to me.”

You pouted, trying to wiggle some more in his arms even if just to cause him a minor inconvenience, “I’m not sweet!”

He scoffed, “Sure you’re not. You’re the big bad wolf aren’t you? Aww, your feeble attempts to get away from me again are so cute.”

Eddie grabbed the cuffs and chain from the wall, easily able to keep your movements at bay. He carried both you and them back to the bed, the metal cold where it lands against your bare leg as he tosses you at the same time. He left just a moment where you might have been able to get away but you were too turned on as he rid you of the rest of your clothing. He kept you beneath him while he worked. Securing the chain between two holes in the old headboard that he told you one night that he put there for this exact purpose.

“Give me your hands,” he asked but didn’t wait for a response, simply taking what he wanted. The metal wasn’t cold anymore when he clicked the cuffs around your wrists. He must have warmed them up in his hands. “So fucking beautiful,” he admired his work. Stepping back to get a better look and grab a condom.

You wanted to bark back some snarky response but nothing was coming to you. Your legs pressed together for any form of friction between them as you watched him. He was still fully clothed, boots even still on from when you’d come back from dinner earlier and here you were laying here naked, handcuffed to his bed. Watching him move around the room, pretending to be looking for a condom, knowing full well that they were in the nightstand drawer.

“So quiet little lamb, everything ok?”

You tugged the restraints at this new nickname that was quickly becoming a favorite, “Yes sir. Just wondering what the fuck is taking so long.”

“Such a filthy mouth my sweet girl has, since you want to talk like that, let's put that dirty mouth to use.”

He pulled his hard length out and kneeled beside you, “Well? Come on. It’s not like you're stuck. That chain is long enough for you to reach your mouth up here and suck my cock.”

He spoke so sweetly to you, making your neglected pussy even wetter. You shifted closer to him and tried to lift up and take him in your mouth.

“You know what,” he flipped you onto your knees, “I’ve got a better idea.”

The chain length was long enough to allow you on your hands and knees. He lifted a leg, trapping the chain along with your hands between them. He pressed his leaking cock into your face, “Better?”

“Yes sir,” you wasted no more time taking him into your mouth. His hand pressed firmly on the back of your head, gripping into your hair. Moans getting louder and louder.

“Goddamn, your mouth feels so fucking good, that’s it. Wanna see you look up at me.”

He fucked into your mouth as you clung to the restraints, he was right. This is exactly what you wanted. To be held down and used for his pleasure. He continued to take what he wanted until suddenly he pulled back.

“You’ve been so good for me little lamb, you want my cock in your sweet cunt now?”

Swallowing you were quick to respond, “Yes sir, I’m so wet.”

“I know you are, pretty girl. Stay on your knees for me. Put that perfect ass up in the air for me,” He smacked your exposed ass cheek.

“Ple-please sir, need you. I feel so empty!” you were desperate already. You arched your back and pressed your ass into the air for him. Stretching your arms out in front of you, clinging to the chain for dear life.

“Shh, I know baby I know. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

He pressed the tip of his covered cock into you with a loud, satisfied moan. He fucked into you quickly. His hands bracing themselves on your hips. An unfamiliar noise hit his ear as he tightened his grip.

“H-holy fuck! Harder sir! Grip my hips harder,” you screamed out louder than he’d ever heard you.

“Does my girl like doggystyle that much? Damn why didn’t you tell me, I could’ve been fucking you like this all along.”

You arched your back, “Like anything with you Eddie. Fuck your hands feel so good on my hips.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now am I?” he fucked you harder, “What’s my name sweetheart? That’s it, shit, scream my name!”

You felt your mind slipping to that wonderful place where all you could hear was him. Not concerned with the outside world or anxious about how you looked, no cares in the world whatsoever. Just Eddie. His hands abused your hips as he fucked into you more, until both of you were unable to say anything besides moans. At some point he reached one of his hands down and teased your clit between his fingers. Bringing you both over the edge.

Aftercare was probably Eddie’s favorite part of sex. He always let you cuddle with him as long as you wanted, he’d give you a bath, water, whatever you needed. He cleaned you up and focused on the rise and fall of your chest from where you rested against him.

“I should get going. I do have adult responsibilities again starting tomorrow.”

He didn’t want you to go. He wanted you to stay beside him forever but for now he’d settle for tonight, “Just stay here. You don’t have kids tomorrow and I know you’ve got at least one decent work outfit in my closet somewhere.”

“Mmm, so persuasive. Ok,” you nuzzled into him, “I’ll stay.”

Getting back into a routine is never easy. Waking at 5:30 in the morning sucks whether it's the first day of school or the last. Unable to say no to Eddie when he was sleepy and needy, you ended up staying over again the night before school officially began. You’d gotten your classroom back together over the past two weeks. Fresh pencils sharpened, welcome packets and goodie bags sitting at each carefully labeled desk. Files organized, student workbooks sorted and labeled, fresh posters covering the walls. Seeing the results of your hard work was always your favorite part of getting ready to begin a new year. Take a good look! It won’t stay like this for long.

Soon the evidence of learning will be everywhere. Instead of a fresh clean whiteboard, yours will be covered words your students asked be added to the word wall, a number intentionally tucked in the top corner away from prying fingers indicating how many fuzzies until the next pizza party. Instead of straight rows of sight words organized in alphabetical order, they will be crooked from where little fingers have taken the magnetic words down to use in their writing journals. Instead of blank bulletin boards, student work displayed on every available surface. Classroom library books that had been carefully labeled and sorted at the start of the year, needing to be reorganized. Instead of a clean shelf, would sit a row of treasures that your students have handed you that include rocks from the playground, a marble, a lost game piece, and a dandelion you didn’t have the heart to toss right away.

Your first day started off better than it ever had. Eddie giving you a kiss goodbye, excited to hear about your first day come the afternoon. Your short commute, uneventful. However from the moment you stepped into the chaos that is the first day of school, everything went downhill.

Some things you’d been prepared for. The list you’d been given had 19 names on it but by the time all the students made their way to the proper place you were face to face with 22 second graders. No matter. You grabbed the bags you prepped ahead of time. Each containing a folder, name tag, crayons, pencils, erasers, and more. You’d been prepared to spend the majority of your day practicing rules, routines, and procedures. But what you hadn’t expected was something you’d never been faced with before.

Every class is different and all have unique needs but you learned quickly that this class was going to present you with challenges that you’d never faced before. Several students had never been in a classroom before, it was as if they were kindergarteners again, attending school with a classroom full of other students for the first time. This happened for various reasons. You had some students who were new to Hakwins, having moved from neighboring cities. But it was mostly due to the amount of families in the area that changed from virtual schools to in person.

Instead of focusing on the routines of accessing their work or how centers functioned, you had to improvise on the fly. Spending time teaching them to stand in a line, how to walk in the hallway, where the bathrooms were, where the gym is, and then repeating all the information again because they weren’t paying attention. Dowsing little fires that popped up non stop because many of them had never been expected to share before. By the end of the day all you wanted to do was sleep and not hear yourself talking again. There’s a special place in the universe for kindergarten teachers who were no strangers to the challenges that had just knocked you on your ass.

Teaching them clean up routines will have to wait until tomorrow you think to yourself as you grimace at your floor, covered with bits of paper from where you learned just how many of them didn’t know how to use scissors. I’ll have to get the custodian an I’m sorry peace offering from the vending machine tomorrow, you thought to yourself as you walked out to your car.

Coming home exhausted wasn’t usually for you but today felt different. You didn’t get as much accomplished as you hoped. Feeling behind already going into the second day of school wasn’t something you enjoyed.

Normally you’d call Eddie on your way home but today you didn’t even want to hear yourself talk when talking to him so you opted for the mixed tape he’d made you. Your car was old as dirt and still had a cassette player in it. Eddie made you a tape with songs that reminded him of you or just songs that he thought you’d like. It was your most prized possession, aside of course from his collar that sat around your neck everyday.

When you got home you finally called him, he answered quickly, “Hey sweetheart! How was your first day?”

You let out the loud sigh that had been sitting on your tongue, “It was ok.”

“What happened?” he pressed.

“My class this year is just,” you searched for the right word, “Different than last year. I miss my kids from last year.” Tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, the day's exhaustion finally catching up with you.

“Have you eaten?” his dom tone slipped in there.

“No sir.”

“I’m on my way. I expect you in comfy clothes and a movie ready for us to watch. I’ll bring dinner.”

“I’ll be ready, thank you sir.”

“I’ll be there soon sweetheart, I love you.”

“I love you too Eddie. See you soon.”

After your call with Eddie you tended to Ozzy. Then changed out of your work clothes and into sweats. You were pulling up a movie when you heard the buzzer. You buzzed Eddie up and waited the agonizing 4 minutes it took him to get from the ground floor to your apartment. He barely had time to get inside and set the take out bag down before you grabbed onto him and pulled yourself against him.

“I’m sorry you had a rough day sweetheart, you wanna talk about it?”

You tell Eddie about your challenging day as you eat. After he cleans up, you curl up together on the couch. Ozzy hops up on the back cushion and lays behind Eddie’s head. You smile as you recall the first time he came over to your apartment and the men of your life met each other.

Eddie came to your place to pick you up for that second show at The Hideout just after you met. He hit the buzzer and your voice came through the speaker, “Hey Eddie! You can come up if you want for a minute, I’m not quite ready yet.”

He looked lost when you opened the door for him. You smiled with a laugh inviting him inside, “You can come in Eddie. You don’t have to stand in the doorway.”

“I’ll be ready in a minute, have a seat. Make yourself at home,” You headed to the bedroom to finish getting ready.

He nodded and looked around, lingering awkwardly just inside of your living room. Something rubbed up against his leg. He looked down wide eyed to see a black cat circling him. For a second he didn’t move for fear of startling it.

The cat looked up at him and meowed, rubbing his face on Eddie’s leg.

Moving really slowly, Eddie knelt down and gave him a pat. He eyed the collar around his neck and inspected the tag, Ozzy. His heart was close to bursting at the idea that you named your pet after one of his favorite artists and inspirations. He heard you still moving around in the bedroom so he looked around and spotted a small basket of toys in the corner he walked over and grabbed a stick with a feather hanging from it.

“Who's the sweetest little prince of darkness? Is it you?” you could hear Eddie from the other room and when you emerged, the sight that greeted you set your soul on fire.

Eddie was laying on the ground, a huge grin plastered all over his face as he dangled the feather above a very excited Ozzy who was flipping around on the ground swatting at the air.

Since then Ozzy seemed to like spending time with Eddie more than you. The three of you were all piled on the couch as the movie played in the background. You felt yourself getting sleepy.

“Hey sweetheart, can I carry you to the bed?”

You yawned, “Yes Eddie. Thank you again. I feel better.”

“I’d like to make you feel even better if you’ll let me,” he said as he sat down on your mattress.

“Mmm, I’d like that sir.”

He pulled your shirt up and off over your head and instructed you to lay on your stomach, “Do you have any lotion somewhere?”

“Over there,” you pointed to a gray bottle on your dresser, “Bought that one because I thought it smelled like you.”

He laughed and shook his head, examining the label after rolling up his sleeves, “Leather and brandy huh? It certainly sounds like me.”

Eddie never ceased to amaze you with his attentiveness. He swirled the lotion between his fingers, warming it up, before rubbing it into your tense muscles. You let out a moan as he worked your shoulder blades between his hands, “Feel good sweetheart?”

“Fuck it feels incredible, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he kept massaging your back, eventually moving down to your waist, then hips, “Do you want to come tonight sweetheart?”

You yawned again, “I don’t think I have it in me to last very long Eddie.”

He slowly moved you onto your back facing up at him, “That’s ok. I was just going to eat that delicious pussy for dessert and then let you get some rest. How’s that sound?”

“Really good sir,” you started to wiggle out of your pants. He stopped you.

“Here let me princess,” he carefully pulled them off, followed by your panties, “Legs back for me ok?”

You obeyed and he put his mouth on you, moving at such a pace that was driving you absolutely wild. He moved his tongue up and down, savoring your taste in his mouth. He held your legs, but softly, no hard grips like usual. He moved slowly, taking his time undoing your strings one by one.

“Ahh, fuck Eddie your mouth feels so good. Please go faster.”

“Since you asked so nicely sweet thing,” he flicked his tongue against your clit. Smirking at the noises he was able to make come from your mouth. You’d have let him lay there all night eating you out but your earlier prediction about not lasting long was turning out to be true.

“Sir, can I come please?”

“Go ahead, come all over my mouth pretty girl.”

He flicked your clit once more, drinking in your orgasm as it rushed over you.

Your back arched into him, your hands clawing at his head, “F-fuck ahh Eddie!” You moaned as he eased you down from your high. His mouth was shining with your wetness as he lifted his head back up.

He licked his lips, “Time for bed sweetheart.” He helped you back into your pajamas and wrapped you in a blanket before kissing your forehead, “Tomorrow will be better. I’ll clean up and lock the door on my way out.”

“Wait,” you grabbed his hand, “I know you don’t have any clothes here since we usually stay at your place and I have to wake up at an unearthly hour in the morning but will you stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay.”

#Ch 8 just posted over on my A03 if you don't want to wait #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content #mean dom Eddie munson #dom eddie munson #sub eddie munson #dom reader #sub reader #dom/sub fanfic

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squirrelasinthewoodlandanimal · 3 years

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youtube

I am in such a Sleigh Ride mood today

#you know what I miss most from growing up on base overseas is the band #we were in yokosuka which is where the flagship/staff for the seventh fleet is based #and thus the base was also home to the seventh fleet band #so on holidays and for special events and heck for my dad's change of command the seventh fleet band would play #and not only concert or ceremonial stuff: they had really great rock and country groups too #and this is like really high quality professional music #that in most communities you'd have to pay to see or at least it is nowhere near as accessible #but I got to grow up hearing professional musicians play great music of every style and genre at every community event #because that is just what the military bands do #they came and did master classes with our high school band too #I dunno when I'm homesick for something it's not Japan really #it's that base culture that I can't explain quite right to anyone who hasn't lived on base overseas

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greenygreenland · 3 years

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Riptide: Cole x Reader

-HAPPY 10th ANNIVERSARY NINJAGO!! -I write for females (just as a side note) because I’m a girl and it’s easy for me soooo yeah :/ -i know jay and cole are besties, but for this, let’s just say jay still likes to tease cole (friends do that anyway tho??)

Summary: Cole finds you at the beach trying to drown yourself. When he rips you out of the ocean, he realises you look familiar.

WARNINGS: Near-death (drowning)

The waves quietly lapped against the edge of the sand, tickling Cole’s toes as he made his way across the wet grains. The moon stood high in the sky, shining brightly overhead like a lighthouse. Cole promised to catch up with the others, but he couldn’t rip himself away from the calm of the waves.

His heart stilled with the quiet waves, sinking into the wet sand like his feet. A cool breeze passed over his face and it brushed through his windswept hair. If only Ninjago could stay this calm. If only he could be like the ocean, free, never ending.

Cole found himself walking deeper into the ocean and away from the banks. The waves slowly met his ankles, then his knees. It soaked into his rolled up trousers, travelling up until he was waist deep. He didn’t worry about being so far out since it was low-tide. And even if he did find himself getting swept out to sea, he still had his powers.

Something softly splashed over to his left. He whipped around, immediately taking a defensive stance. As ineffective as it was, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Cole eyed the smooth waters. He wondered if it was a shark, or worse, a mystical beast he never heard about. For a few moments, it was quiet, save for the waves, the calm breezes, and Cole’s steady breath. “Maybe it was a fish.” he whispered to himself with a chuckle. Something brushed his leg and he reared back with a squeal.

“Not a fish not a f--First Spinjitzu Master!”

The first thing Cole saw was a shirt, then a bundle of floating hair and a face hidden among it. He wanted to freak out, but a girl was laying in the sand underwater. Underwater. He plunged under the cool waves, wrapping his arms around the girl’s torso and hauling her up. “First Spinjitzu Master... First Spinjitzu Master...” Cole placed a hand on his earpiece.

“Guys! I found a girl in the ocean. She’s unconscious and...I don’t think she’s breathing. Come quick!”

“We’re on our way.” said Zane. The nindroid’s voice was a relief to hear. “We will arrive in five minutes, and as an extra precaution, I have phoned nine-one-one.”

“Okay, great, great.” As Cole laid the limp girl on the grainy sand, he frantically looked her up and down. Even through the curtain of hair plastered over her forehead, he could tell her face was unnaturally pale. So much, that it could have been a mirror of the bright moon.

It suddenly occurred to Cole that he had to do something. The girl wasn’t breathing and she’d die if he didn’t do something. “Gyah! I’m not the smart one!” He ran a hand over his face. There was one thing Zane did bother to teach everyone in the group, whether it be for civilian use or themselves. Cole pictured Zane standing by his side.

Place the heel of your palms on the centre of the chest.

Cole placed his hands on the centre of the girl’s chest.

Interlock your fingers. Remember to press two inches down.

Cole interlocked his fingers.

I have read somewhere that pressing down to the beat of Stayin’ Alive is said to ‘do the trick’ and make it easier.

And so Cole did just that. “Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha... Stayin’ alive... Stayin’ alive...” He wasn’t sure if it was working, or even if he was doing it right to begin with. How would pressing two inches down on someone’s chest do good? How would this save her from being killed?

Suddenly, she jolted upward, coughing and sputtering out a load of water right into Cole’s face. He didn’t care though. That meant the water had come out of her lungs, right? The danger had been avoided, at least for now.

“COLE!”

He whipped around, letting out a loud sigh of relief. Zane and Pixal took Cole’s place, reviewing her vitals and diagnosing her with whatever. He wasn’t sure what they were doing, so he stood off to the side as Jay babbled away. “What happened? Are you okay? How did you find the girl? You didn’t have to swim out there did you?”

Kai looked at Jay weirdly. “Do you think Cole would swim out that far to begin with? He probably found her washed ashore.” Cole wanted to say something, but he was in a daze. The more he thought about the girl, the more he wondered where he saw her from. It was like a smell you know you’ve smelled before but can’t put a name or memory to.

He ignored the background chatter and zeroed his gaze on her limp body as Zane carried her to the ambulance. When Zane turned around and motioned for him to come over, Cole finally came back to his senses. He could think about the girl later, right now, he had to answer some questions.

Three weeks later

“Urgh,” said Cole. “Why do I have to go with Jay?” Sensei Wu raised a brow at him as if to say, ‘really?’. “What is wrong with Jay?” he inquired. “He is a brother, and brothers should be respected.” Off to the side, Jay loudly applauded. “Period. Brothers should be respected, Cole.” He rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“Now,” Wu interjected. “I want you both to visit Jamanakai Village. You will find Mystake’s tea shop. Get these and only these.” He handed Cole an old drawstring bag. It had a label on the string, but the handwriting was so wonky that Cole couldn’t read it. “If she tries to kick you out, tell her I sent you. That is all, I expect you both back by Thursday.”

Jay let out a long groan. “Why can’t Kai do it? Or Zane? Or Lloyd?” He smugly glanced at Cole. “Or even my wonderful girlfriend Nya? I thought they were the responsible ones.” Wu raised a brow and Cole snickered. “You will both go to Jamanakai Village. That is final. While you are out, do not forget to eat and whatever you do, no Elemental Dragons and no vehicles. You will walk the entire way to the village, am I clear?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

To say the walk was gruelling was a nice way to put it. There were tens of thousands of other words Cole could have said to describe the terrible pain of having Jay around. Of course, he didn’t actually mean that, but hypothetically, the walk was terrible.

“You know,” said Jay, “these birds are said to have been exported from the Dark Island.” He pointed to a nearby tree, where three or four birds sat. Their oily wings were like liquid obsidian. Funnily enough, the colour matched both Cole’s gi and hair. He watched as one of them flew away, fluttering straight over his head and into the sky above.

Cole wondered if it would be nice to live life as a bird, but then he realised he wouldn’t have a bed or cake or chocolate and candy.

“I’m guessing they were exported before the Dark Island became...you know.” added Jay. “I mean, how could these cute little guys be from there?” He reached out to pet one of the birds. It squawked and bit his finger. “OW!” Jay rounded on the tiny bird, who actually appeared to be laughing. “Bad bird! That’s a no-no! You don’t bite people like that.”

Jay ripped off his glove and sucked on his poor finger. Cole stared at him as he whimpered. “Is it bleeding?”

“Gwee, I fondt knowh.”

Cole dug a hand in his pouch. He felt around and pulled out a band-aid along with a small alcohol wipe. “Here.” Jay took the band-aid and wipe, gingerly dabbing it on his wound and wrapping the band-aid around his finger. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They continued on in a comfortable silence, caring only to watch the leaves sway in the wind. When they arrived in Jamanakai village, their feet were sore, and they were tired. Jay’s stomach grumbled, and so did Cole’s.

“I knew we should have eaten before we left.” Cole muttered. Jay let out a long yawn. “Sensei Wu said we were supposed to be back by Thursday. That’s three days away without video games. Do you think I can survive like this? Do you Cole?”

He wasn’t listening. A heavenly smell reeled him in like a fishing line. It was sweet, yet it smelled like green tea. Maybe it was cake; Cole hoped it was cake. “Do you smell that?” he seriously inquired. Jay knitted his brows together. “The bakery? Oh, it’s right there.” He pointed to a small shop to their left, where a girl stocked freshly baked cakes and buns.

Cole could already imagine how pillowy and soft the buns would be. They would have sweet fillings that melted in his mouth, and the cake would be the perfect texture with the right amount of cream. He made his way to the bakery, keeping a keen eye on the fresh chocolate cake.

“Cole, we’re not here to buy cake.” said Jay. “If we’re gonna eat, we might as well eat a real meal.” Cole rolled his eyes and pointed to a slice of chocolate cake. “I’ll take one of that, please.”

The cashier took out a pair of sparkling tongs. “Will that be all?” she inquired with a smile. “My grandma just finished steaming the buns, they’re fresh.” Cole whipped towards the cashier. For some reason, her voice sounded so familiar. It was again, like a smell that reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place. Sweet, nostalgic, kind.

That’s right, he thought. This was the girl he saved on the beach. But before then, he knew her as the studious (Y/n) (L/n) from the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts. When Cole had no one to talk to in class, she was there. When he forgot his lunch, she shared it with him. When he decided to run away, she promised not to forget him.

(Y/n) walked out from behind the counter. She handed Cole a bag of two containers. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Her voice was rather soft, like she were embarrassed anyone else would hear. “You saved me, on the beach.”

“Y-yeah, I did.” Was it just Cole or was it getting hot out here? He didn’t need anyone to tell him his face had gone beet red. “Thank you Cole. I might have snuck ‘a few’ more cakes in the bag. That guy’s your friend, right? There are some buns in there for him too.”

Cole met (Y/n)’s bright eyes. They weren’t as lively as he remembered, but they still held that warm glow that always made him feel safe. “I--uh--(Y/n)...”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...do you still go to the Marty Oppenheimer School?” Do you want to hang out sometime? “I mean...uh...” How have you been? “T-thank you for the food.” He let out a nervous laugh and (Y/n) chuckled a little. “If you’re wondering, I graduated last year.” she said. Cole’s eyes widened. Had that much time already passed?

“I live in Ninjago City now.” she added. “I didn’t think I would make it this far, but I did. I’m here in Jamanakai for the next three months before I go back to the city. I heard you’ve been up to things too--ninja stuff. Saving lives.” She smiled at Cole, as if the two shared an inside joke.

“(Y/n)! Help me carry this, it’s too heavy for me!”

(Y/n) glanced over her shoulder. “One second, grandma!” She turned back to Cole and wrapped him in a tight hug. It was brief, it was sweet, and it made Cole remember just how close they used to be. “I have to get back to work. See you soon Cole?”

“Yeah.” he awkwardly replied. “See you soon.” He watched as she disappeared out back. When did he finally become taller than her? When had she actually spoken so nonchalantly? Last time he saw her, they were still kids. They were young, and even with responsibilities, they were still free.

“Sooooo, you’ve got yourself a girl?” inquired Jay. He took the bag from Cole and made his way over to the fountain. The two sat on the ledge as Jay sifted through the food. There were buns filled with red bean paste, lotus paste, and even barbeque pork. Under that were five different desserts. Two velvety chocolate cakes, one egg tart, and three pieces of perfectly wrapped mochi.

Jay took one of the meat buns. “Wow, this is really good. Tell your girlfriend to teach you how to cook.” Cole let out a short sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend, Jay. I haven’t even seen her in years.”

“What? Why?”

Cole closed one of the boxes. He dug around the bag for a fork, but he grasped a small slip of paper instead. Jay peered over Cole’s shoulder with wide eyes. “Ooooo she gave you her phone number? See! Dating. Case closed. I’m gonna tell everyone when we get back.”

“No you aren’t.” Cole retorted. “Like I said, I haven’t seen her in years. She probably only wanted to get back in touch.” Jay raised his brows and Cole elbowed him in the stomach. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” He pulled out one of the buns and took a big bite out of it. “We went to the same school together as kids. We became friends there, but when I ran away from home, we lost contact.”

“So go talk to her!” exclaimed Jay. “Before we go, I’m setting you both up on a date, or at least a night out together. We’re not going home on Thursday, got it? We’re staying ‘til Saturday and that’s final.” Cole raised a brow in amusement. “I thought you said you wanted to play video games.”

“If your girlfriend has a phone, then she has video games.” said Jay smartly. Cole let out a bright laugh. All he really knew now was that he’d have to come to Jamanakai Village more often.

NOTE: I will make a part two soon, so stay tuned! Tip jar

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago cole #ninjago cole x reader #x reader #fanfic #ninjago 10th anniversary #happy 10 year anniversary

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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As Ethan Sees It

Author:SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Mature

Words: 3698

Read it on AO3 Here

Tagging @today-in-fic

The first thing I’d noticed about her was how self-assured she was, particularly in contrast to her diminutive stature. I’d been grabbing lunch at a local deli between classes and some high school kids were picking on a third boy who may have been a classmate. Everyone in line was just ignoring it, looking away, when this tiny redhead steps out of line and walks up to the tallest, bulkiest guy in the group and tells him to fuck off, in so many words. She barely reached his shoulder and was probably 100lbs soaking wet, but she had no problem standing up for the little guy. After I picked up my order, I noticed her sitting alone at a table near the window and asked if I could join her. She was hesitant, but agreed and listened politely while I told her how impressed I was by her bravado with those kids. That’s when I noticed the second thing about her; her incredible smile. It was like the first burst of sunlight over the horizon in the morning, blinding in its beauty. I introduced myself and learned that her name was Dana, and she had just moved to DC to accept a job with the FBI. We talked for so long I missed my class, but I didn’t care. I was fascinated by her. Aside from being strikingly beautiful with rich auburn hair and porcelain skin, her blue eyes some intoxicating shade of blue I had never seen before, she was also wickedly smart. She seemed to know about everything, any topic that came up she could speak to, and I learned more during that 90 minute conversation than I probably would have if I’d made it to class. She was a doctor, and a scientist, and even the way her voice sounded was enchanting to me, the S’s softly sibilant as they poured from her pouty pink lips. She had realized the time and stood suddenly to leave, and I was so flustered by our impromptu date ending so abruptly that I stupidly forgot to get her phone number. The sinking feeling in my gut when I realized this fact, right about the time her cab disappeared into a sea of other cabs, still ranks as one of the worst moments of my life.

I thought about her every single day for two weeks. I talked about her every single day for two weeks, until my roommates begged me to either figure out a way to get in touch with her, or shut the hell up. All I knew about her was her first name, that she had recently graduated from Stanford, and that she works at the FBI. First I tried calling the FBI and asking for Dana, but they had more than one Dana who worked there and were unwilling to let me try them one by one. Next I contacted Stanford and was able to have a list of the last two classes of graduates faxed to me. Thankfully, there was only one Dana on that list; Dana Scully. I called back to FBI headquarters and asked for Dana Scully, and the next thing I knew she was on the line, her sing-song voice saying “This is Dana Scully.” My mouth went dry, I forgot how to speak, how to breathe.

“Uh, um, hi, hello.”

“…Who is this?” Her tone was the one I’d heard her use with the high school bullies

“Uh, this is Ethan? From the deli, a couple weeks ago?”

“Ethan from the deli? The guy who’s getting his masters in journalism?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Oh! Hi! How…how did you get this number?”

“Well, I hope this isn’t too weird but I forgot to ask for your number and I remembered you said you worked at the FBI, so I kind of tracked you down.”

“Oh. That’s kind of sweet.”

I let out huge breath of relief.

“I’d really like to see you again, if you’re interested. It’s alright if not, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least ask.”

She was quiet for a moment but he had a feeling she was smiling.

“I’d love to, Ethan. Do you have something to write with? I’ll give you my number.”

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

The first real date we had, I took her to a fancy Italian place that my buddies said was sufficiently romantic. She let me pick her up at her apartment in Georgetown and when she answered the door, I nearly passed out. She had on a strapless blue cocktail dress and tall black heels, her hair down and soft around her face. Her lips were red and plump and I wanted to kiss her right then, but I knew it was too soon. I held doors for her and watched closely for her reaction, unsure if she was the kind of woman who found chivalry insulting, but she seemed to appreciate it. She was so petite and delicate, like a beautiful bird, but also had this incredible air of confidence that made her so captivating. I was careful not to outright stare at her, so I didn’t make her uncomfortable. She told me more about herself as we ate, what she had studied in school and the things she was doing now at the FBI academy, working in forensics. She asked me about my school and my plans for after graduation, and she really listened when I talked, asking thoughtful questions and wanting to learn more about journalism and broadcasting, so eager to know as much as possible about everything she could. I told some stupid joke, and she laughed, and I think that’s when I fell in love with her. That laugh worked its way into my bones, vibrated in my blood stream and sent a shiver down my spine. I had to imagine that the only reason she was single was that she was so new to the area, because a woman like this was never single for long. I didn’t want the night to end, so I asked her out to drinks afterward and to my delighted surprise she suggested that we have them back at her place. I didn’t want to assume anything, so I didn’t make a move, just talked with her more on her sofa, learned about her family and her childhood as an army brat, her love of reading and bubble baths, her fondness for children and animals. When she leaned in and kissed me, I thought that I may be hallucinating. Maybe I was having an intensely long, lucid dream. How did someone like Dana Scully cross my path of all the places on earth she might have been, and how did I have the nerve to approach her, and how was she interested in me, and how was it possible that right then she had her tongue in my mouth on her sofa?

We didn’t have sex that first night, but it wasn’t too long before we did. And it wasn’t too long after that that we decided to be exclusive, and 6 months later that I told her that I loved her. Two weeks after that, she said it back, and for two years, we were happy. It’s typically the case that when you’re newly in love with someone you have that divine infatuation that makes you see everything about them as perfect, but over time it wears off and the things that were once cute become annoying. That never happened with Dana. I was obsessed with her, everything she did was the most incredible thing a human could accomplish or be. Aside from the megawatt smile and musical laugh, she had this sweet little beauty mark on her lip that I loved to kiss. She was witty and skilled at debate, and we’d spend evenings arguing over something like the moon landing conspiracy before fucking like animals over the back of the couch. And the sex. Oh my god the sex. She was an absolute vixen in the way she played, teased, and ultimately delivered on every promise she made, and she would smile in this self-satisfied way when she came, looking me right in the eye like she’d tricked me out of my last dollar. She could be dominant, or dismissive, sometimes one then the other in the same night. She could be anything and everything, and she was.

I loved to hear her talk about her work and new assignments she was getting, and I was so proud of her and her goals and dreams. I wanted to be right beside her as she climbed the ranks at the bureau, and knew that she would be anything she set her mind to. She was equally supportive of me as I graduated and then worked my way up at a local broadcasting company with dreams of being a news anchor. She made me feel important and worthy, showed interest in the things that I cared about and was so loyal to me that she cussed out one of my friends for making jokes at my expense. We never moved in together technically (her choice) but we slept together at one or the other’s apartment every night, rented a movie every Friday, had dinner with her parents every Sunday. Her sister, who she was close to, seemed to like me okay, and her friend Ellen confided in me that she thought I should propose soon, that Dana was ready for that step. I picked out a ring, a slender gold band with a princess cut solitaire, only half a karat because I knew she didn’t like to be flashy, and hid it in my sock drawer. Our anniversary was coming up on March 23 and I decided to do it then, which was a little ways away, but I wanted it to be perfect.

For her birthday, I took her out to dinner and she had exciting news to share. She’d been offered an assignment with an obscure unit at the FBI, requested specifically by Section Chief Blevins for her background as a scientist. I didn’t fully understand what the unit did or why they’d want Dana for it, but it was something about unsolved mysteries, by the sound of it. She was so happy and felt like this was a great sign, her big break, the fact that Blevins even knew she existed and wanted her on this team was an indication of the reputation she was building for herself there. I bought a bottle of champagne, told her how proud I was and that I couldn’t wait to hear more about it. She let me know there would be travel, it was a field agent role, and that she’d be on the road sometimes. As much as I didn’t look forward to being away from her, I couldn’t help but share her excitement at this new step in her career. That night we had the most incredible birthday/promotion sex you could imagine. I made her come three times before she finally tapped out and told me how much she loved me, and how excited she was for the rest of our lives together, how much she appreciated that I understood that her career was important, and that I supported her. If we would have been at my place, I would have grabbed the ring and proposed to her right then, but we were at hers. So I just kissed her and told her that I was the luckiest man on earth because I had the opportunity to be her partner in life.

The first day of her new assignment, she was nervous. She’d heard some stories about the agent she was going to be working with, her partner, a guy named Mulder. He sounded like somewhat of an oddball, and a ladies man to boot. I made a joke about him staying away from my woman and she rolled her eyes, had me help her choose between the plaid suit or the maroon one, kissed me goodbye and told me that she loved me and I didn’t need to worry about this or any other male agent, or male person for that matter, stealing her away. That afternoon at the station I got a message from her saying that she had to fly out to Oregon for a case they were investigating, which caught me by surprise. She had said she’d be on the road, but I didn’t expect it to happen that fast. I heard from her only once in the three days she was gone, and when she came back, she was different.

It’s hard to explain in what way she changed. She was distracted, spacey, staring into nothing when we watched TV in the evening, not really listening to what I was saying when I told her about my day. She told me a little bit about the work she was doing, but she was suddenly guarded and defensive about what she did all day, most of her sentences starting with “Mulder says...” The phone would ring at odd times, she worked late or was out of town almost constantly. I felt her slipping away. I did all I could to make things easy for her when she was home. I did all the cleaning, all her laundry. I cooked her dinner each night, though half the time she would say that she had already eaten with Mulder. She didn’t seem as interested in kissing or sex, but she would let me go down on her and I did, every night, trying to hold on to her attention and her affection with my tongue on her clit. I tried to talk to her, to ask her what was wrong, if I should be doing anything differently, and she’d say “no, of course not. Everything’s fine, I’m just tired.”

Then it was our anniversary, and I made a reservation at the same place we’d gone to that very first time. I picked up flowers for her, dahlias which I knew she loved. I went by her apartment at the agreed upon time, but she didn’t answer the door. I used my key to enter and it was quiet and cold, no sign she’d been there anytime recently. I called her office at work and Mulder answered, said she was up at Quantico performing an autopsy and could he take a message. I just hung up the phone. I went to bed at her place, and when she finally crawled in at 3am she was startled to find me there. The way she looked at me made me feel like she’d forgotten I existed, and I didn’t even bother to remind her that it was our anniversary. I decided to start fresh the next morning, with a new plan. Maybe I was being too demanding, expecting too much. Maybe this Mulder was difficult to work with and she didn’t want to bother me with horror stories. I would just have to be the most supportive, accommodating, wonderful boyfriend possible, and we could come through this together. When I woke up, she was still snoring softly beside me. I slipped my head under the covers and pushed her legs open gently, sliding her nightgown up over her hips. She stirred and moaned as I pressed my lips to her clit, kissing her there before beginning to lap at her labia, two fingers sliding inside just how she liked it. She responded readily, flexing her hips and pushing her hands into my hair, and I flipped the blankets off my head so I could see her face. I loved the way she liked to watch me, to hold my eye as she went over the edge, so intensely intimate. To my disappointment, her eyes were closed, head back against the pillow. When she came, she didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything. I crawled back up to lie beside her and when her eyes met mine they were so full of sadness it sent me into a panic.

“Dana, what’s wrong?” I implored, seeing tears welling under her blue irises.

She shook her head and scooted up so that she was sitting with her back against the headboard.

“Ethan-“ her voice caught under a sob that she quickly swallowed down.

My stomach dropped. No, this can not be happening.

“Ethan” she began again. “I care about you so much.” Tears were falling now, trailing down her alabaster cheeks and dripping off of her angular chin. “I just don’t think I can give you what you need right now.”

My mind was racing, I looked around the room like there might be something, or someone, who could help me.

“I think it might be best if we took a break for a bit. Took some space from each other.”

I sat up on my knees and grabbed her arm, suddenly regretful that I had chosen to sleep naked.

“Dana, what are you talking about? We don’t need space. I don’t need space from you!”

She closed her eyes. “Ethan, it’s not fair to you. I can’t be available to you right now. My new assignment, I’m just so busy-“

“No, it’s okay, Dana. I know you work more now but I don’t mind, I’ll always be here when you come home. I support you, I support your work, you know that.”

Pulling her arm from my grasp, she stood and went to her dresser. Pulled on panties and then jeans before stripping off her nightgown and putting on a bra and sweater. “Ethan. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It’s just not a good time for me, right now.”

“Is it that Mulder guy? Is he making moves on you?” I hated how desperate my voice sounded.

“No, Ethan. This has nothing to do with Mulder, he’s been nothing but professional. This is about me, and what I need right now. What I’m capable of. And I’m just not in a good place for a relationship, I’m sorry. I need some time.”

She was standing near her bedroom door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She was ready to walk out.

“How much time? How much time do you need?”

She looked at the floor and whispered “I don’t know.”

I slid off the bed and went to her, dropped to my knees on the floor, wrapping my arms around her hips as I pressed the side of my head into her belly.

“Please don’t do this. We can work through it. I love you, I love you so much. I’ll do whatever you need, just tell me.” The humiliation of begging on my knees while nude makes my skin crawl to this day.

She put her hand on my head, petting my hair as she often did. I felt hot tears drip from her eyes and fall against my scalp. “What I need is for you to let me go” she finally said, and she sounded very sad but also very resolute.

“I’m going to go to my mothers for the day, and I’d like you to pack up the things you have here. You can leave your key on the table. I’ll call you soon, to see how you’re doing, okay?”

“Dana, no, I won’t let you go. Please let me try to make this better.” I clung to her like a child, physically keeping her from leaving me. She crouched down and kneeled in front of me, taking my face in her hands. She kissed me softly on the lips, once.

“You have been a wonderful boyfriend, Ethan. You have loved me so well. I don’t want you to think that this is your fault, okay? You are the best. I just can’t be with someone right now. I know you’ll be okay.”

She stood and walked out of her apartment, pausing once at the door to look back at me, naked and destroyed on the floor in her bedroom doorway, and then she was gone.

She didn’t call me, not in a day or a week or a month. She deleted me from her life like a file she no longer needed. I didn’t know how to explain to my friends what had happened, because I didn’t really know myself. I thought about her every day, ate at restaurants around her work and apartment hoping to catch sight of her, so we could chance a meeting and maybe she’d be willing to talk. When I finally did see her, it was at a sandwich shop a few blocks from the Hoover building. She walked in looking like…well an FBI agent. Now in a black, tailored skirt suit that fit her perfectly, her hair cut shorter and more styled, her heels tall and her posture confident. A man was with her, and my stomach turned at his hand on her back, the familiar way they stood close as they waited in line. He was remarkably tall with dark features, handsome in a kind of mysterious way. I wondered if that was Mulder, assumed that it was. They sat down and I watched her face, the intensity in her eyes and the curl at her lip, recognized the way her features danced as she talked about something she found interesting, the rapturous way she listened while her male counterpart spoke. I remembered when she used to look at me that way. She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked at me suddenly, registering surprise and then sadness, offering me a tiny wave as the man turned to see who she was looking at. I gathered the rest of my sandwich and chucked it in the trash can as I stalked out, suddenly having lost my appetite. I wanted to hate her, to be angry at her betrayal, her abandonment. I wanted to hate him, for taking her from me. All I could muster was the same hallow acceptance that I had my chance, and somehow let it slip away. I just hope that he appreciates her smile as much as I do.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

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rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Nine

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Nine

Wednesday nights at The Hunter’s Moon weren’t exactly hopping, but the small crowd would do for Jace’s purposes. The atmosphere was familiar, at least, and he wasn’t likely to find better at any of the other bars in town. He’d been on uncertain footing for months, not knowing how to be whatever he and Simon had been. But now, alone, unwanted, and with a soul-deep ache in his chest, he was finally back on familiar ground. This feeling, Jace knew exactly what to do with, and step one was getting very drunk.

He almost hesitated when he saw Maia behind the bar. She must have switched shifts with someone, because she didn’t usually work Wednesdays, and Jace wasn’t prepared for her too-knowing eyes or her pity.

But Maia greeted him with her usual easy smile, so either she didn’t know Simon had moved out, or she didn’t know him half as well as she pretended to.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight,” she said. “Isn’t tomorrow your god-awful early Latin class?”

Jace shook his head. “That’s Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Can I get a double shot of Stoli?”

Maia’s smile slipped, just a bit, but she nodded and poured his drink. “Starting off strong right out the gate,” she observed. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” Jace tossed back the shot. The heat that followed it down felt less like the usual ripping off an emotional Band-Aid and more like rubbing salt into an open wound. “What I want is another one of those and to find some company for the night.”

Maia paused, bottle in hand. “Okay, no.” She wasn’t even pretending to smile anymore. “I can’t actually stop you from riding whatever self-destructive train you’ve decided to hop on, but I don’t have to enable it, either.”

“You’re a bartender,” Jace said flatly. “It’s your job to pour drinks.”

“I’m your friend, and I’m not pouring you anything else until you tell me why you’re in my bar looking for a drunken hookup instead of at home with your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Maia told him. “Where’s Simon?”

Jace met her eyes. “Simon left. Can I have my vodka now?”

“What do you mean, ‘he left’? Oh god, did you guys break up?” And there, finally, was the pity he’d been expecting. At least it came with another shot of vodka.

“Can’t break up if you’re not actually dating.” Jace downed his shot. This one didn’t soothe any better, but at least it didn’t make things worse.

Maia gave him a flat look. “You’ve been sleeping together, exclusively, for the past five months.”

“That was just—” He shook his head, trying not to choke on words that he knew were true but still felt like a lie. “Just a couple hookups between friends.”

“Yeah, that’s complete bullshit.” Maia’s tone was so certain. Jace wanted to believe her.

“Don’t know why you’re so surprised. Simon and I hook up with our friends all the time.”

“No,” Maia said slowly. “You hook up with your friends. So does Lily. So do I, sometimes. But Simon?” She gave him a significant look. “Simon doesn’t do casual. He’s just a great guy who stays friends with most of his exes.”

Jace didn’t even try to hide the bitterness in his smile. “Guess I’m an exception to many rules.”

Maia’s voice was soft when she spoke again. “I don’t actually believe you do casual with someone you’ve been pining over for the better part of a year, either.”

Jace looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Neither of us was actually drunk enough to have forgotten that conversation.” When Jace didn’t respond, she asked, “Why’d he leave?”

“Because he wants something real,” Jace told her. “And he doesn’t want it with me.”

When Jace met her eyes again, he expected to see pity. What he got was pure skepticism. “He said that?”

“Yep.” He lifted his glass. “Pour me another?”

She pursed her lips, then shook her head. “I’ll bring you beer.”

Jace sighed, but he didn’t argue. Maia was a much better friend than she was a bartender.

“You know,” Maia said when she returned with his beer, “I’ve known Simon a long time, and that really doesn’t sound like something he’d say.”

Jace lifted his glass in a toasting gesture. “Guess I just bring out the best in people.”

She sighed heavily, leaning on the bar. “Look, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what you guys said, and he’s never actually talked to me about it, so I don’t know for sure whether he feels the same way about you that you do about him, but anyone who’s not a complete idiot can see he cares about you. That’s not something he makes any effort to hide. And Simon would never say something that cruel to someone he cares about. So, whatever he said? I’m pretty sure it’s not what you heard.”

“Did you just call me a complete idiot?” He needed to make a joke out of it because he couldn’t let himself believe what Maia was saying. He didn’t have it in him to hope again.

“Yes.” She nudged his hand with her elbow. “But you really should talk to Simon.”

“Don’t think just because you’re finally dating the woman you’ve been crushing on for ages that makes you some kind of relationship expert.”

“Oh, I don’t,” she assured him. “I just think I’m more of a relationship expert than you.”

Jace silently flipped her off, then pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a long time before finally texting Simon.

Can we talk? Please.

As soon as he hit send, he put his phone face-down on the bar and turned his full attention to drinking his beer. Maia gave him an approving nod before going to help the trio of customers that had just walked up to the bar.

It took Simon almost ten minutes to respond, and Jace wasn’t sure how to take it when he did.

Bat says it’s fine if you come over.

It wasn’t exactly a gilded invitation, and Jace was pretty sure he didn’t want to have whatever conversation he and Simon were going to have with Bat there, but it also wasn’t a no. Jace could live with not a no. He’d have to.

He caught Maia’s eye. “Close me out?”

“Sure.” She took his card and scanned it. “Where you headed?”

“Bat’s place. Simon’s staying there.”

He expected at least a little bit of gloating, but all he got was a smile and his card back. “Cool.”

Jace shoved his wallet back in his pocket and stood to put his jacket on. Maia stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey. If this doesn’t go the way you want it to, promise you’ll come back here to say I told you so instead of finding a different bar to drown your sorrows in?”

Jace scoffed. “Like I’d ever pass up a chance to rub it in your face that you were wrong.”

Maia gave his arm an encouraging squeeze before letting go. Jace downed the last of his beer and hoped he wasn’t about to fuck things up even worse.

~~~

“How did my place become the designated space for heartbroken sulking?” Bat asked when he opened his door to find Jace standing there.

“It’s because you have the best couch to crash on and the nicest gaming setup,” Jace told him. “Also because you’re too nice to kick your friends out even when we probably deserve it. Can I come in?”

Bat watched him for a long moment, then stepped back and let the door swing all the way open to allow Jace inside.

“I’m gonna run to the store to pick up some more chips,” Bat announced loudly. “I will be back in half an hour, and if any bodily fluids end up on my couch while I’m gone, you are both permanently banned from my apartment.”

“Dude,” came Simon’s voice from the direction of Bat’s living room.

“Just saying,” Bat said, and then he was closing the door behind him, leaving Jace standing in the entryway.

Jace took a deep breath to steady himself, then a second one before finally forcing himself to walk into the living room.

He found Simon on the couch, feet tucked underneath him like he always sat when he was upset. Simon didn’t look up, instead staring intently at the hole in the knee of his worn Boba Fett pajamas as he poked at the threads.

“Hey,” Jace said.

“Hey.” Simon’s eyes stayed trained on his knee.

Okay. This was fine. Jace could work with this. Probably.

He sat down on the far end of the couch and tried again. “Look, I know I’m shit at apologies, but I can’t even try if I don’t know why you’re pissed at me.”

Simon’s shoulders slumped, and he finally looked at Jace with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m not pissed at you.”

“Really? Because you’re acting kind of pissed at me.”

“I’m not—” Simon made a frustrated sound. “Okay, I’m kind of pissed at you, but I know it’s super unfair, and I’m, you know,” he shrugged, “working through it.”

“And when you’re done working through it, then you’ll come home?” Jace’s question sounded desperate, even to his own ears.

“I think—” Simon went back to studying the hole in his pajamas. “I think I’m going to spend the summer back in New York with my mom. Bat said I can crash on his couch for a couple weeks until finals are over.”

“Simon.” Jace was shaking his head, but Simon just kept right on going.

“I can—I can keep paying my half of rent until you find another roommate.”

“I don’t want another roommate.” I want you. Jace shook the thought away. That could wait. All that right now mattered was keeping Simon from walking out of his life.

“Look,” Jace continued, “I know things are kind of weird between us right now, but you don’t have to leave. We can fix this. We can just—just go back to how things were before, like nothing ever happened, and it’ll be—” It would be agonizing. Jace wasn’t sure he could do it. “It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t just go back to how things were before, Jace.” Simon’s glare was withering. “It’s not that easy.”

Jace ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know I fucked up. I shouldn’t have kissed you at Alec’s wedding, but I swear it won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t—Jace, we kissed each other at the wedding.”

Jace glared back, letting anger mask his hurt. “Then what exactly is the problem?” If he didn’t know what he’d done, he couldn’t fix it, and if he couldn’t fix it… “If it’s not about the kiss, then why the hell won’t you just come home?”

“Because I love you, you asshole!”

Simon looked almost as surprised by his own outburst as Jace felt. Jace stared. He couldn’t have heard that right. Because if Simon loved him, then he wouldn’t be glaring at him like he just kicked his favorite puppy. If Simon loved him, he wouldn’t have left.

“I love you,” Simon repeated, calmer now, “and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t.”

“Simon,” Jace croaked. His voice didn’t seem to want to work.

“That’s why I can’t live with you anymore, because I’m never going to be able to get over you if I do.”

“Simon,” Jace tried again, voice stronger now.

“And that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But I think if I just take some time, and some space, then maybe I can—”

Jace let out a frustrated growl. “Will you please stop talking for five seconds so I can tell you that I love you, too?”

It was Simon’s turn to stare. “You—I don’t understand.”

Jace let out a bark of laughter that was half hysterical, half wonder. “Yeah, this is. It’s a lot.”

“But,” Simon’s voice was soft, vulnerable, “if you love me, then why don’t you want to be with me?”

“Simon,” he reached out to cup Simon’s cheek with his hand, “what could possibly have given you the idea that I don’t want to be with you?”

“You!” Simon’s voice was indignant, but he didn’t pull away, instead leaning into Jace’s touch. “You’ve said it like a million times! That you don’t date. That you’re not a relationship kind of guy.”

“Yeah, because I suck at it.” It wasn’t an easy admission to make, and Jace had to force himself not to cringe away from showing this much vulnerability. But for Simon, he would. “You were right when you said I don’t know how to be bad at things, and I make a terrible boyfriend. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be yours.”

Simon let out a choked laugh, winding his arms around Jace’s neck. “You were actually a pretty great boyfriend, even when you were just pretending.”

“Simon. I was never pretending.”

Simon made a wounded noise and dragged him the remaining inches between them into a kiss. It was messy and the angle was awkward as hell, but Jace wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He kissed back, putting everything he felt into it. And then Simon was throwing a leg over him to straddle his lap, and the angle—along with everyone else—was so much better.

“Dude, what did I say?”

They broke apart at Bat’s very annoyed question. Jace had been too distracted to even hear the door.

“Technically, we didn’t break your rule.” Simon’s grin was wide and bright and a little dazed as he disentangled himself from Jace. Jace suspected he was wearing a similar expression. “No bodily fluids on your couch.”

“I expect more than a technicality when your fluids are involved,” Bat said flatly. “And I’m happy you guys got your shit together or whatever, but please get the fuck out of my apartment now.”

“I think we were just leaving, anyway,” Jace said.

“Oh yeah,” Simon agreed. “We’ve got some, uh, stuff to take care of back home.”

Jace barely even heard the pained noise Bat made over the sudden burst of joy in his chest at hearing Simon call their apartment “home” again. Grinning like an absolute idiot, he let Simon pull him out the door and down the street toward their apartment. Toward home.

~~~

It took them far longer to get back to the apartment than the distance warranted. Probably because they couldn’t seem to go a full block without kissing, which inevitably led to making out against the nearest wall until one of them remembered that they actually had an apartment with nice features like beds and privacy.

“This is ridiculous,” Jace said half a block down from their building, ignoring the fact that he was the one who had Simon pinned to the neighboring complex’s laundry room wall. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Either kiss me again or get moving,” Simon said, grinding against the thigh Jace had between his legs. “I’d really like to get you naked before I have to leave for morning classes.”

With a put-upon sigh, Jace stepped back. “It’s really annoying when you’re right about things, you know that?”

“I know that you say ‘annoying’ when you mean ‘hot,’” Simon said with a smug grin.

“That is not at all a thing that I do,” Jace lied.

They managed to make it back to the apartment with no more detours and practically fell through the door with how eager they were to get their hands and mouths back on each other.

“Missed this,” Simon said between kisses. “Missed you.”

“It’s been like half a week,” Jace said, like he hadn’t missed Simon like he’d lost a limb, blood loss included. “And you’re the idiot who decided we should break up, so whose fault is that?”

“We weren’t even dating, you dick. I didn’t think you wanted to.” Simon pulled away then, suddenly serious. “You do want to, though, right? You meant it when you said you want to be my boyfriend?”

“I can’t believe I fell in love with someone so dense,” Jace said with an affectionate smile. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Okay,” Simon said, smiling back. “Cool.”

“Now that we’ve got that sorted out,” Jace leaned forward, lips hovering a hairsbreadth away from Simon’s, “can I please take you to bed already?”

Simon kissed him, quick and hard, before grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and walking backward down the hallway, dragging Jace with him.

“I like it when you say please,” Simon said. “It’s definitely something you should do more often.”

“Yeah?” Jace used the fact that his own hands were free to unbuckle Simon’s belt while they walked. “You gonna make me?”

“I thought that was implied.” Simon pushed the door to Jace’s bedroom open and shoved Jace through it.

Jace took another step back, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it vaguely in the direction of his desk chair. “You really think you can?”

“I’ve done it before.” Simon followed and slid his hands up beneath Jace’s shirt. “I can remind you how it went if you forgot.”

“Could have been a fluke.” Jace’s words probably would have been more convincing if his entire body hadn’t jolted when Simon’s thumbs very deliberately brushed over his nipples before moving to tug his shirt over his head.

“You’re right,” Simon said as he pulled his own shirt over his head. “We’ll need a bigger data set if we’re going to do a proper statistical analysis.”

“Less math.” Jace pulled open Simon’s fly and reached a hand inside his boxers. “More sex.”

Simon rocked into the touch. “I didn’t hear a ‘please’ in there.”

Jace snorted. “Bite me.”

“I mean, I was going to suck you, but if you’d rather I bite—”

Jace cut him off with a kiss. By the way Simon smiled against his mouth, he thought that might have been exactly the reaction he was going for. Jace couldn’t be annoyed by it, though. Not when Simon was making those soft, eager noises into their kisses while they divested each other of their remaining clothes. Not when every touch, every kiss felt like coming home. Not when they finally tumbled into bed and Simon kissed perfect and so hot and love you into his mouth and skin.

It wasn’t until Simon had him practically writhing with want, lazily fingering him while he traced patterns across Jace’s hipbone with his tongue, that Jace realized he’d meant it about making him say ‘please.’ The realization must have shown on his face because Simon, the utter bastard, winked at him before stroking his finger against Jace’s prostate, just once. It was almost as infuriating as it was hot.

Jace’s resolve not to beg lasted right up until Simon shifted so he could reach Jace’s other hip with his mouth, causing his own cock, hard and leaking, to brush against Jace’s calf. Knowing that Simon was just as turned on as he was, it was too much.

He rocked his hips down as Simon added a second finger, trying desperately to get some pressure where he needed it. The stretch felt good, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. “Are you waiting for a gilded invitation?”

“You know what I’m waiting for,” Simon said mildly, cheek just barely grazing Jace’s cock as he lowered his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on the seam of Jace’s thigh.

“Fuck, fuck, fine,” Jace panted. “Please.”

Simon didn’t waste any time to gloat, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion at the same time that he crooked his fingers to press against Jace’s prostate. Jace let out a strangled sob, fighting to keep his hips still and failing miserably. If Simon’s answering moan was any indication, he didn’t mind in the slightest, so Jace stopped trying, losing himself in the heat of Simon’s mouth, the perfect pressure of his fingers.

He glanced down, needing to see, and was very nearly undone by the sight of Simon’s lips stretched around his cock, the obvious enthusiasm for what he was doing. Simon caught his gaze and swallowed—very deliberately—around the head of his cock. Jace let out a keening noise as his body shook and he spilled his release down Simon’s throat.

Simon kept working him with mouth and fingers until it was just pushing the edges of too much, and then he was crawling up Jace’s body to kiss him, needy and desperate, as he jerked himself off. Jace had just enough presence of mind left to kiss back, to slide one hand between them to join Simon’s on his cock until Simon was shaking apart above him, painting their hands and stomachs with his come.

“See?” Simon said a few minutes later, still half-breathless. “I knew I could get you to say ‘please.’”

“Fuck you,” Jace mumbled without any real heat, too fucked-out to muster a proper comeback.

Simon gave him a crooked grin. “Next time, I should make you ask nicely, though.”

Jace thought he probably shouldn’t be as into that idea as he was, especially since he’d just come, but he absolutely was, his mind spinning out an elaborate vision of what that would be like. Not that he was going to admit it.

“Shut up and cuddle me,” he said instead.

Simon’s answering smirk said he knew exactly what Jace wasn’t saying, but he didn’t argue, curling his body into Jace’s with a contented sigh.

“Hey,” Jace said quietly. “I love you.”

He felt Simon’s smile against his shoulder. “I love you, too.”

Eventually, Jace knew, they would have to move. They were both in desperate need of a shower, and he should probably put something in his body that wasn’t alcoholic if he didn’t want to feel like death in the morning. But for now, he was content to stay like this, wrapped in the arms of the man he loved. And when they did finally make their way out of bed, he’d be fine with that, too, and whatever came after. As long as Simon was beside him.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 3

Now we’re really kicking into high gear on the AUs. This is one of the two AUs for which I’ve written multiple Whumptober fills; this one I’ve been referring to in my head as the Happy Families AU, which is only barely sarcastic, because most of my headcanons for this AU are sickeningly sweet domestic fluff. There’s a few darker bits, though, and that’s what ended up in these fills.

A couple of notes on this AU setting: Jenseny survived her attempted martyrdom, she ended up leaving the Eastern Continent with Damien and Gerald due to the extreme social unrest there and the lingering prejudice against adepts, and after dealing with Calesta the two of them adopted her. Similar to another AU I’ll be showcasing among these fills, the fae is still Workable and Gerald still has some of his Hunter traits; I’ll go into more detail on my headcanons surrounding that whole topic on a later day, when my head isn’t splitting open from a migraine, which it is currently giving its best shot at.

Day 3 - Theme Chosen: “Who did this to you?”

“Jen? What's wrong?”

Damien was no adept, but he didn't need to be. He knew something was wrong the moment he walked in the yard. On any other day, his adopted daughter would have been bolting out the front door the moment she heard him reining in his unhorse at the gate; her school let out an hour before he got home from work, and she was invariably waiting, bubbling over with stories about her day. Today, however, the yard had been empty except for the dozing form of their pet weiler, a massive brown-and-black beast named Marchosias that Gerald had picked out – and named – as a puppy two years ago. When Damien unlatched the gate, the dog lifted his blocky head and whuffed once, before rolling over and going back to sleep; reassured that nothing was too terribly awry, Damien had stabled his tired horse, then gone in search of his daughter.

He found her in the sitting room, curled up on the window bench with her homework spread in front of her. She was still wearing the sky blue blouse and ruffled indigo skirt she'd had on when he dropped her off at school that morning, but she'd taken her hair out of its thick braid and let it spill over her shoulders; bent forward over a heavy textbook in her lap, it hung like a curtain, partially shielding her face. Her legs were tucked up alongside her on the cushion, and the position of the door relative to the window meant that Damien was seeing her in profile, limned by the watery autumn sunlight outside. She only barely looked up at him, a sideways flash of her dark brown eyes before her gaze returned to the book in front of her, but her expression was calm and her voice steady when she replied.

“Nothing's wrong, Dad. I just had a long day at school.”

Damien frowned, leaning against the door frame for a moment. Jenseny still didn't look up at him, strangely avoidant; she seemed to only be focusing very hard on whatever she was reading, but the lack of a smile combined with her studiedly level demeanour made a hard knot of anxiety start to form in his gut. He waited a moment, picking his words carefully, before he spoke.

“If something's bothering you, Jen, I'd like to talk about it... but I understand if you don't want to, and you don't have to give me any details if you'd rather not. I'd prefer you to be honest with me, though, so I know it's not something serious.”

Halfway through turning a page, Jenseny's hand froze in midair. The knot in his belly tightening, Damien waited silently. After a moment, Jenseny let go of the page and allowed it to flutter back into place, dropping her hand to rest on her leg where it was tucked up beside her. Damien could see her gnawing on her lip, just a little, her internal war more than obvious; he held himself still, wanting desperately to cross the room and pull her into a hug, but resolved not to pressure her while she made her decision.

Then, hesitantly, she finally turned to face him. She swung her legs off the cushion to do so, sitting upright properly – and as the far side of her face came into view, Damien gasped.

“Jen.”

There was a large, misshapen bruise blooming over her left cheekbone, dark and damning against her warm ochre skin. The facade of calm finally cracked, and Jenseny's lower lip began to tremble, her eyes welling up with a glossy sheen of tears. His heart breaking, Damien was across the room in a few strides, sinking onto the window bench next to her and putting his arm around her; instantly, she sank into him, burying the uninjured side of her face against his shoulder as she muffled a sob. Damien smoothed a hand over her dark curls, the first sparks of fury warring with the sorrow coursing through him.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

For a moment, Jenseny was quiet, though Damien could feel the damp heat of her tears soaking his shirt. When she started to speak, her words were soft and muffled.

“Some of the other kids in my class... don't like me because I'm an adept. They say I shouldn't be in Sheva, because the Forest makes people like me go crazy. The boys mostly just avoid me, and that's fine. I don't need them all to be my friends. Some of the girls, though...”

Of course. Damien felt those sparks of fury start to catch, growing and brightening in his chest. The prejudice of mankind knew no bounds, after all, and even living on a world where the planet's very lifeblood seemed determined to kill them hadn't changed that. He and Gerald had known, when they debated where they were going to live, that there were risks in every answer; Gerald was more than capable of Working a protection that would keep Jenseny shielded from any of the Forest's influence, he was its master after all, but any adept living so close to Jahanna's borders was bound to draw a curious eye or two. They had decided it was worth it, for the distance it afforded from the cities where the Church kept a closer watch, but they had recognized even then that it was far from a perfect solution.

Perhaps more surprising, that the first outright aggression had come from a girl – but it sounded as if it had been more than one, and maybe it wasn't that surprising after all, given how vicious teenage girls could be when emboldened by numbers.

“What did they do?” Damien murmured.

Jenseny pulled in a deep breath and straightened up, wiping at her wet eyes as she choked out the words.

“They cornered me after class. There were five of them – they're the most popular girls in class, they always hang out together. They were making fun of me, saying that I'm going to go crazy too, that I'll probably wind up jumping into the river like that poor man last year... but then, one of them said that I might take somebody else with me.” Jenseny paused for a moment, drawing in a shuddering breath. “The whole mood shifted, I could See them all getting angrier – and they were scared, too. I could feel it pouring off them, and I was so afraid, because it felt – it felt like it used to, in the cities, on the nights when they...”

She trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the thought, but she didn't have to. Damien felt as if an iron band was squeezing his chest. He knew exactly what she was referring to; those horrific nights, on the Eastern Continent, when the governors of the cities had staked adepts outside in the forest to act as bait for demons. He could only imagine the atmosphere of mingled terror and bloodlust that must have accompanied that practice, and for Jenseny's classmates to be in that same state...

After a few steadying breaths, Jenseny went on. “One of them, the girl that always bosses the others around, said I should leave. That I need to get out of Sheva, and never come back, so I won't make any trouble for normal people.” She shut her eyes, pain flickering over her expression, and Damien felt the first true flames of fury igniting in his heart. “Then they were all shoving me, and one of them tripped me – I didn't see which one – and I hit my face on the side of the flowerbed when I fell.”

When she opened her eyes again, they shone with fresh tears. “I ran straight home, but I didn't – I didn't want to make you and Papa worry. I know it hasn't been easy adjusting to living here, especially for Papa, not having his books or his workrooms anymore... we're all just finally starting to settle in. I don't want us to have to move. I don't want you to be worried every time I'm at school, either. They were all so angry at me, though... I don't know if I can just go back and pretend nothing happened.”

Damien had to close his own eyes for a moment, overcome. God. She's been through so much, and still, her first thoughts are for others. Was I ever that selfless? If I was, I've forgotten what that felt like. Age and loss have made me selfish.

And then. Selfish enough to be willing to do almost anything, to protect my family.

Drawing in a deep breath, Damien opened his eyes and met his daughter's worried gaze steadily. “We're not going to have to move, Jen. And those girls aren't going to hurt you again. I need you to give me their names, though.”

Jenseny's eyes widened, and Damien wondered what she saw, as her eyes flickered over the air around him; he knew she was reading the currents, Seeing the reflection of his emotions in the fae. At last, she whispered the question he'd known was coming.

“What are you going to do?”

“They won't get hurt,” he said quietly, answering the question that she really meant but hadn't quite asked. “But they also won't ever hurt you again.”

Jenseny considered that for a moment. Then, quietly, she gave him the names of the five girls.

“Thank you.” Damien opened his arms for a hug that Jenseny gladly leaned into, then pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her curls. “Why don't you go call Marc in for dinner, and then you can help me make our famous family spaghetti, how does that sound?”

Jenseny's eyes lit up. “That sounds great!” she exclaimed, her natural cheer finally breaking through the melancholy that had gripped her. She kissed his cheek, then bounded off the window bench and headed out of the room. At the doorway, she paused with one hand on the frame and glanced back, her smile falling into something smaller, warmer, and profoundly meaningful.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Then she was gone, around the corner and out the front door, calling enthusiastically for Marchosias. Hearing the dog's booming bark in response, Damien smiled and closed his eyes, reaching for the link that lay between his own soul and his husband's. Currently quiescent, but always present, and only ever a thought away.

Gerald?

A moment later, he felt a warm thrum of acknowledgement, mixed with a thread of concern; Gerald's hours at the city's Historical Archives weren't much different from Damien's hours at the hospital, and it was rare for them to communicate through the link during the work day unless something fairly urgent had happened.

I'm just finishing my last lecture of the day. What's wrong?

Damien opened his eyes in time to see Marchosias go bounding by the sitting room door, an entirely too-large blur of black and brown fur skidding across the polished wood floor as his own enthusiasm exceeded the friction of his paws, Jenseny following after him in a burst of laughter. Damien smiled more widely, and directed another thought down the link.

Tonight, after dinner, we're going... out.

He felt a burst of surprise from his husband, shifting into anticipation and curiosity; Gerald's focus on the link grew, and Damien felt his husband's mind slide against his own, picking through his recent thoughts for an explanation. He offered up the memories of his conversation with their daughter, and felt a flicker of understanding and recognition.

I see. Yes. I couldn't agree more.

As the thoughts intertwined with his own grew dark and hungry, Damien stood and headed for the kitchen to start dinner. He and Gerald might still have their ideological differences, but there was one thing they agreed perfectly on.

No one was ever going to hurt their daughter. Not without answering to them.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #Who Did This To You?#coldfire trilogy #fic #bullying #discrimination #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #jenseny kierstaad #the neocount writes

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saylors-universe · 3 years

Text

All Hands on Deck, one

Rowaelin Cruise Vacation AU

Masterlist here

rowaelin cruise ship vacation AU

word count: 1661

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You did WHAT!" Aelin screams over the phone. If she wasnʻt currently visiting her cousin in Terrasen, she would be in Elide and Manonʻs apartment, conducting this band meeting. But of course the Gods deemed her worthy of divine punishment – for what, she has no clue.

"Come on Ae,” Elide pleads over the call, "think of it as an engagement gift for Lorcan and I."

"Okay one, I planned on getting YOU something, not that dick boyfriend of yours. And two, this is a job, not a present,” Aelin hisses. Remembering that she hadnʻt yet congratulated Elide on the very recent news.

Elide had grown up with Aelin and Aedion, pretty much being adopted into the family as another cousin. Aelin had witnessed all of the trials Elide had endured – maybe she was cursed by the Gods too.

"Fiance. Heʻs my dick fiance now,” Elide interrupts her train of thought, "and I donʻt know what happened with you two but heʻs honestly the sweetest and most caring guy ever,” getting cut off by Aelinʻs cackle on the other end of the line.

"To you maybe,” Aelin snorts, “god, if only you had gone to our high school Elide. Lorcan was such an ass to me and -," she caught herself, choking on his name.

"Rowan?" Elide blurts out, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Ye- how did y-," Aelin snaps, somewhat defensive. She knew Elide didnʻt understand the painful memories that came with that certain name.

"Lorcan told me about you guys,” Elide corroborates, “you know he resented you two for what you guys had,”

Ha! Aelin thought to herself, Lorcan, jealous? That doesnʻt excuse the asshole personality of his.

“he told me he had finally found that kind of love with me, and thatʻs when he knew I was the one and started planning the proposal." Aelin was happy for Elide, genuinely, and it is because of her love for the plainly beautiful brunette that she tolerates the prick.

Lorcan envied our relationship?

Quick memories of a silver head past love of hers crossed her mind without permission. Midnight drives where theyʻd sing songs theyʻd wrote for each other, a summer class trip across Europe where they shared their first "I love youʻs" in the late, romanticly lantern-lit streets of Rome. As quickly as they came, she banished them once again.

"Anyways," Elide continues, "itʻs a vacation, with only a few gigs. I mean weʻd only need to perform a couple of nights and the rest of the time is ours...

Plus, I managed to get the cruise director to upgrade our rooms for a small cut in our pay.”

She was met with silence, "Come on Aelin, Lys and Manon have already started packing,” Elide begs.

It was a great deal Aelin had to admit. A 21-day cruise trip, not only was it technically free for them, but they would actually be paid doing what they love - performing. She could see it now - Queenʻs Court live from the Great Seas.

They were a fairly new band but had already made some traction, making a name for themselves and enjoying the love from their wild fanbase. It would be nice to get away for a little while, Aelin contemplates. She canʻt remember the last time she did something crazy fun with her girls, besides their small concerts. It couldnʻt hurt.

"Alright, fine," she concedes. She doesnʻt quite know why she had been so hostile and reluctant to this great opportunity. It may have something to do with how she had always been the one to spring the surprise master plan on her friends, finally on the receiving end of it felt weird. "but you know I get seasick."

"Weʻll get you some of those seasickness patches,” Elide counters just as Lysandra snags the phone.

“Hey bitch,” their term of endearment, “is my hot ass boyfriend there with you?”

“Yeah one sec,” Aelin answers then pulls the phone away from her face to yell to her cousin in the other room. “AEDION, LYS AND I ARE HAVING PHONE SEX!”

Her twin of a cousin suddenly appears, putting the phone on speaker and taking a seat next to her on his living room couch. “Trying to steal my girlfriend are you?” He teases, sticking out his tongue to Aelin. “Whatʻs up baby?”

“Aedion weʻre going on a trip, a romantic cruise vacation, and before you say no, I already talked to Darrow and blackmailed him into giving you a month on leave,” Lysandra reveals over the phone. Aelinʻs fairly handsome cousin raises a brow in question to her, “so I expect to see both of you packed and ready at Wendlyn port at the end of the week,” Lys demands.

“Yes maʻam,” Aedion complies. The poor man was so whipped by the dazzling woman, he would follow her to the depths of hell. Aelin was glad they found eachother, they both deserve to be happy.

“Good. I just got new thongs today that I want to show you. Ooh! And we can try those new posit-,” Lys continues not realizing that she is on speaker. Aelin, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, looks over to see Aedionʻs reddened cheeks and wide eyes.

“HERE. Iʻm still here!” Aelin gawks before she overhears any more of this intimate and awkward conversation. “Get a room you two.”

Lysandra chuckles, “how about a romantic cabin suite. Gosh Iʻm so excited, this is going to be so much fun,” Lysandra beams. And just like that Queenʻs Court packed their bags and instruments, preparing to embark on this new adventure.

——————————————————————————

Something had to be wrong, Lorcan never calls band meetings. Rowan internally reviewed every conversation heʻs had with the rigid bandmate of his to determine a possible source of this abrupt meeting. He recalled that Lorcan had just recently proposed to his girlfriend that he never talks about, is it possible for it to have gone awry? If so, why would he feel the need to share it with the band, heʻs normally super private? No, something else had to be wrong. Rowan got situated on the couch, across from the twins, Fenrys and Connal, perplexed by the expression on the standing drumerʻs face.

Was that a smirk? Rowan had never seen Lorcanʻs genuine smile in all the years he had known him. It had been hard enough to get the man to talk about his personal life, let alone express his feelings. Itʻs a miracle that somehow this girlfriend of his had cracked through his thick walls.

"Alright boys," Lorcan opens, "I got us a gig."

"Uh- isnʻt that Gavrielʻs job" the normally quiet Connal pitches in.

And from the rare, conspicuous grin on Lorcanʻs face, Rowan deduced that their booking agent Gavriel was just recently informed of this sudden plan of Lorcan's and took care of all the details himself.

"What is it?" the other twin, Fenrys, chimes in.

"A tour ... overseas. Really itʻs actually 3 weeks of vacation, on a cruise, and a few nights of shows,” Lorcan tells the group, “the cruise line hasnʻt been getting as much traffic as they normally do so they thought a popular band for entertainment would bring in some audience."

For Lorcan, not only was this input very abnormal, but also pretty genius. Not only would it be like their normal concerts with the generous pay, ambitious audience, and regular groupies that followed them anywhere - but they also would get a few weeks of vacation and free food. It would be nice to travel again and get out of Doranelle for a little bit, Rowan imagined.

"3 weeks of hot chicks in bikinis, music, AND alcohol,” Fenrys smiled, “thatʻs all you had to say,” as he looks to the remaining bandmates, “weʻre in.”

"Well hold on a minute,” Rowan interjects, “whatʻs the catch?"

"No catch really, except weʻre not the only entertainment. We trade off nights with Elideʻs band. You see, weʻre planning this whole thing as an engagement/honeymoon trip because of both our tour schedules."

Rowan has never seen Lorcan this content and happy in all their years of friendship. Itʻs nice to see how much heʻs changed from their high school days. Godʻs Lorcan used to be such an ass to him and -. Before he knew what was happening images of her perfect blonde hair, strikingly beautiful turquoise gold eyes flashed across his mind. The sound of her laugh rung through his brain - the first time he heard that laugh he completely lost himself to her. Catching himself – he buried those memories deep down and focused his attention back on their current band meeting.

“Elideʻs in a band?” Fenrys inquired. Lorcan didnʻt share much about his girlfriend – now fiance I guess – he had always been very private about his life, even back during high school.

“Yeah, the Queenʻs Court, theyʻre pretty good, from what Iʻve heard so far – itʻs just El and a couple of her girlfriends” – like Aelin Galanthynius, Lorcan thought to himself.

Lorcan had worked hard to block his youth from memory, completely forgetting about his high school years. That was until Elide introduced him to her bandmates, and he was confronted by the very Aelin Galanthynius he bullied during school. He regrets all of his torment towards her now, but while not knowing if Aelin would be able to forgive him, he makes an effort to be civil towards the blonde nusiance, for Elideʻs sake.

“Sweet, a battle of the bands, you boys up for a little competition?” Fenrys proposes to the group, the three men just shrug. Taking the hint, Fenrys continues, “So what do you say boys? Will The Cadre take stage on the open seas? All in favor say ʻayʻ”

“Ay” “Ay” “I planned this fucking thing so obviously,”

After a few soft chuckles, Lorcan nods, “Then itʻs settled. See you boys at the docks,” as he ushers off quickly to his fiance in Wendlyn.

.......................

If you would like to be added to my tog taglist, just send me a message and lmk :)

All Hands on Deck taglist:

@smalltddygothgf @booksbqueen @underworldboxers @live-the-fangirl-life @booknerdproblems @rowaelinismyotp

#rowaelin #throne of glass #cruise #aelin whitethorn #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #elide x lorcan

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everydayanth · 4 years

Text

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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elejahfanfic · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction

And so it is Christmas

Part 5

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

ft. Klaroline, Kennett

AU story_human_no vampires

a/n:There will be great mad Mikaelson chaos and lots of love… i.e. Elijah falling for Y/N…cookie baking, etc.

well, actually_absolute christmas fluff… ho-ho-ho

_also this just blew into such a long ch again_ thanks for reading. xoxo

🎅

In the Mikaelson Mansion

Esther looked at the happy bunch mucking around in the kitchen. She loved the holiday season. It always brought a strange kind of warmth to the house.

"Everyone is very high spirited" the butler said,"this idea to have them participate in making the buiscuits was marvellous"

"Wasn't it just" Esther said, now looking at Klaus and Caroline cutely talking to one another, him complimenting the blonde on her artistic streak.

"I find it quite unusual that Elijah left Caroline behind and went out with Kol" Esther remarked.

"There have been developments" the butler said.

"What do you mean?" Esther now looked at the man with puzzled eyes.

"Master Elijah and Ms Forbes are no longer together. Prior to Miss Rebekah's trip to New York, they put an end to their relationship. Not that it was any serious relationship as such."

Esther raised an inquisitive eye-brow at the butler, and told him to follow her to the drawing room to speak more privately.

The butler has always been the source of gossip and knew all that was going on, as Rebekah could not keep anything to herself. He now told the Mistress of the house all about Elijah falling for Dr Y/L/N/

Now, Esther, having found out the latest going ons said, "Well, that explains Elijah's great interest in the Fundraiser. But isn't Dr Y/L/N seeing Klaus?"

"No. I found out from Master Kol that Dr Y/L/N and Master Klaus - just hooked up once- these are his exact words."

"I understood that there was more. He frequently is seen going to the Y/L/N Lake house." Esther said.

"Ahm, I have that information, too." the butler said.

"We have to find out what exactly is going on. I do not wish any of my sons to get hurt. It is not the first time they get entagled with a woman. Remember how things went with Rayna Cruz."

"Yes, I do." Jefferson recalled the stress that went off the brother's back in New Orleans, when they both had a crash on the beautiful blonde.

"She left them both heartbroken," Esther said, "and that fight - over her. I didn't want this to happen again."

"It will not. They are way more mature now, and Master Klaus is now much calmer."

"Yes. But still - a woman can stir up things- no matter what age a man is"

"Dr Y/L/N doesn't appear to be a woman that would string two men along." the butler said.

"No. I think I will still have a word with her."

"Is this wise, Ma'am?"

Esther sighed. "Not really, but I cannot have a repetition of what we had years ago. And it being the reason Elijah moved to New York. It broke my heart having him so far away."

"But they have made up and they have been so very supportive of each other. Master Klaus met Aurora and - all was forgotten."

"Yes," Esther said and now took a deep breath looking at the faithful butler, "I have heard that Rayna had a child."

Jefferson looked at the woman a tad bit stunned. It seemed he didn't know all.

"What are you suggesting, Ma'am?

"That maybe - there somewhere Elijah might have a son." Esther now said.

"Oh! Are you sure?"

"No. By the time I got this probable news - Rayna left New Orleans to - god knows where"

"But - if the child was Master Elijah's, I am sure she would come to you and said something. Ask for money. She was daring enough"

“True.” Esther said. “I wish he finds someone he can start a family with and be happy.”

“Maybe Christmas will work its magic this year.” Jefferson said.

“Well, let’s hope so.” Esther curled up a little smile.

🎅🎄

Elsewhere- the Y/L/N House

"Because of you" Elijah said looking at Y/N in a very sincere manner.

"Me?" Y/N looked back at the man wide-eyed.

She was not expecting this answer. Or maybe she did.

"Yes. And I know that we hardly know each other- and I - this is now going to come out wrong - but ever since that evening volunteering in the shelter - I can't stop thinking about you" Elijah said, twisting the truth a bit, as in fact, he could not stop thinking about her since he saw her at the boutique.

"Oh" Y/N let out followed by a gulp. For some strange reasin she froze, though she wanted to say that she also had him on her mind eversince she saw him at the boutique.

As there was no other response coming from Y/N, Elijah, slipping ‘Right’ and got up, "Ahm- I better go"

Y/N now got up as well, and for an unexplained reason said, "Ok"

Like a lost soul, Elijah looked for his coat jacket. Having found it in the living room, he took it and put it on, thanking Y/N in the process for the pie.

Y/N nodded a little saying, "You're welcome"

Elijah nodded back, everything inside of him very jumbled up he turned and walked to the door.

"Wait" Y/N suddenly said.

🎅

Meanwhile, at the Mystic Falls Ice Rink

"Hey" Klaus greeted Kol, who had just arrived at the Ice rink with Bonnie, "Elijah is not answering his phone."

"He is still busy making pies" Kol replied, "where are the others?"

"Bex and Stefan have this dinner thing with his uncle, and Hope went with Caroline to get some ice-skates cuz she doesn't have any - here" Klaus explained now looking at Bonnie, "isn't it time you introduced your girfriend"

"Yeah" Kol said somewhat confused, "this my other older brother - Klaus - the nuisance"

Bonnie now extended her hand to Klaus saying,"Hello. It's weird that we never met and you are at the School board and Hope is attending my chemistry class this year."

"I meant to come to see you regarding Hope. She is telling me that you chose her for the State Chemistry Olympiad? She is Middle School- is she that good? "

"Yes. She is very talented. Quite an over-achiever." Bonnie said.

"I don't know where she gets it from" Kol now said with a teasing smirk.

Klaus would now hrow something clever back at his brother, but Hope and Caroline now joinrd them. More greetings and more introduction followed. Soon they all got inside the rink.

Kol showed off his ice-skating skills to Bonnie, who was pretty impressed. Bonnie was not skating since college and felt pretty rusty.

"How come you are so good at this?" Bonnie wondered.

"Well I lived here for five years now. I also played for Mystic High Hockey team. We moved here five years ago."

"Wow." Bonnie said, "I must say I amazed."

"I also had a band." Kol said.

"What else don't I know?" Bonnie asked.

"I was bad in chemistry." Kol said cutely.

"Ah, nevermind. I still like you." Bonnie now kissed her man.

Not far from them, Caroline skated up to Klaus, who actually just stood at rink's fence, totally lost in Caroline exhibiting her figure skating skills.

As she now came up to him, he was all stars in his eyes at her-

"Tell me why are you a lawyer?"

"Ah, because - my dad thought it would have been a more solid career"

"You are serious?"

"I was the US. Collegiate Figure skating champion." Caroline said.

"Really?"

"Yes. But, this is where I started. This is where my mom brought me to skate when I was five years old - and" Caroline now inhaled deeply, her eyes watering.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Klaus now said concerned.

"Nothing. Just great memories. I didn't think I would be back here or skate here ever again."

"You lived here? When?"

"Till my mom died. And then I went to live with my dad in New York." Caroline replied, "Thanks for - this was a great idea. And - sorry if me coming down made things awkward- now that Elijah and I - broke up."

"Our family does awkward well. So you are all right." Klaus said.

"I don't know. Even though Elijah and I said we would be friends - I feel like I am intruding."

"I am for one am glad you are intruding - I mean- ahm- you are not intruding at all. You saved me from getting the whole cookie baking and you did such great job helping Hope, and Rebekah for that matter. You should yake credit for all the baking that was done today. I can only imagine what it would be like if you didn't step in."

"I guess, your cook would have to do it all."

"Yes, and we would never stop hearing mother tell us that we could have done better." Klaus said.

"I doubt that. She is lovely." Caroline said.

"Yes, mother is the best."

"I miss my mom so much." Caroline now said.

"I am sorry." Klaus now said with great empathy in his voice.

The song that now came on made Caroline take Klaus suddenly by the hands and said, "You are skating now"

"What? No, no, no. I am not like Kol."

"It is not that hard. I got you. You will be fine." Caroline reassured Klaus, who, strangely let himself go.

✨

At Y/L/N House

"Wait!" Y/N said again and shot over to Elijah, and wihtout hesitation drew his lips to hers, like catching a dream that was about to disappear. She made their lips, mouth, tongue flow in the beautiful rhythm of what their heartbeats played, like tiny bells echoing like the shooting stars up in the skies. Easing out of it, heads leaning on one another now, both trying to gain some breath back, they stood silent for a moment, her thumbs lightly streaming up and down the side of the neck, while his hands got lost in the tangle of her her, dropping on her shoulders. If he spoke, he thought, this sweet enchantment would be broken. And yet, the first word shimmered out, "Y/N”

"Elijah" Y/N smiled a little, her cheeks feeling flush, "I don't know - what's happening - I mean- I know - but I never thought that - it all came out of nowhere"

"It has - and I - I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I tried not to feel - because I was with someone else- and you"

"Because I was with your brother" Y/N took a deep breath, "this never happened to me - I am not someone who goes from one guy to the next - let alone brothers- and has crazy drunken one night stand"

"Please - I didn't mean to upset you"

"You didn't upset me - I am - just such a hot mess - if you know what I mean" Y/N said raising her look at him, "I also coudn't stop thinking about you"

Elijah lips curled a happy smile up now, the corner of his eyes catching the mistletoe hanging right over them. Y/N looked up as well. They were standing right under the lush evergreen beaming down at them.

With their eyes now dropping on one another again, Elijah gently pulled her to him into a sweet, deep, long kiss.

_to be continued🎄🎅🤶

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson #the originals christmas #klaroline #kennett #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #fanfiction writing

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (27)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 4797

Warnings: Swearing probably

Author’s Note: One more chapter after this. It will be going up this Friday. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list which will turn into the sequel tag list after Friday.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Wakey, wakey birthday girl.” Your dad’s voice comes from your doorway.

“If you really love me you’ll let me sleep.” You mumble, pulling your blankets towards your chin.

“Loving you has nothing to do with it. You have to get ready for school. But I wanted to be the first to say happy birthday.” You feel the edge of your bed sink in as your dad sits down. You look over, blinking as the bright light hits you a bit too hard. “How does it feel to be fifteen?”

“The same as it felt to be fourteen?” you shrug. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“I’ve seen your birth certificate. I’m not going to forget my kid’s birthday.” Tony reaches forward to push the hair away from your face. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of you. So if it were me, I’d get up and get ready.”

“If it’s my birthday shouldn’t I be allowed to do what I want? Like stay in bed all day?”

“Pepper will never allow that. Get up kiddo. You’ve got school to get to.”

“So you’re saying Mom is the one who’s actually in charge?”

“Most definitely.” Tony says before kissing your forehead. “Now get ready so you can have your birthday breakfast before school.”

“Does it involve green juice?”

“Would it be breakfast without green juice?” You roll your eyes, but push your covers back and climb out of bed. Reaching into your dresser, you pull out a pair of black ripped jeans before going digging in your closet for a shirt for today. Sassy shirt or band tee? Which seems right? But then your eyes fall on the blue tie dyed Pink Floyd tour t-shirt. That’s what you want to wear today. It’s slightly cropped, but not enough for it to be a dress code issue. You pull on the shirt and the jeans and then reach for a pair of red high tops. You love how comfy casual this is. The last thing it needs is your favorite jean jacket and you’ll be set. At least clothing wise anyway. You’ll add a couple small pieces of jewelry, your heart pendant and some earrings, and maybe throw your hair into a ponytail just so it doesn’t annoy you throughout the day. After a couple swipes of mascara and a little lip gloss, you feel ready to head downstairs. When you walk into the kitchen, your mom and dad are both waiting for you. A stack of pancakes are waiting for you with a couple candles stuck in them. You look at them puzzled. “Pepper said I couldn’t give you cake for breakfast so I figured this was the closest we could get.”

“Cake would just spike you and then you’d get hungry way before lunch.” Pepper rolls her eyes.

“I love it.” Nana and Pops had always made your birthday special, but this is a completely different kind of special. Your dad takes a lighter and lights the candles.

“Make a wish.” He pulls his phone out and snaps a picture as you blow out the candles. Tony can’t help but smile at you. “So anything you want to do for your birthday?”

“You don’t have today already planned?”

“I have some rough ideas, but I thought I’d get some input from the birthday girl herself.”

“I want to hang out with Peter after school.”

“Sure, invite him over.”

“I mean outside of the apartment.”

“Take Happy with you.”

“Dad-”

“Nope. Dead set on this one.”

“Fine.” You text Peter to see if he’s up for doing something after school. You’d be surprised if he says something other than sure.

“You have to be home by six.” Pepper adds. “Birthday dinner. But Peter can come too.”

“Where are we going for it?”

“Where would you like to go?” Pepper asks.

“Can we go to that Italian place we went a few weeks back?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tony says.

“So what did you want to do?” Peter asks as he finds you after your German class.

“I don’t care. I just wanted to be free from the apartment for a few hours.” You admit.

“Well it’s your birthday, so anything you want to do is on the cards.”

“I could go for coffee?” You suggest.

“Coffee it is for my girl.” Peter takes your hand and walks you to the side of the school but you shake your head. “What? This is the quicker way.”

“I promised my dad we would go with Happy. He’ll be waiting in front of the school.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me.” Peter’s nose scrunches as he says this but follows you towards the front of the school.

“That’s just Happy’s personality.”

“He likes you.”

“That’s ‘cause Tony’s my dad. I’m a Stark- he like has to like me or he doesn’t get paid.” You joke. “Did you tell May that my mom and dad said you’re invited to dinner?” Peter nods his head.

“Already texted her about it. She said to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Aw, May’s the best.”

“She is pretty great, as long as you don’t eat her cooking.” Peter says with a smile.

“The vegetarian food she made for me was pretty decent.”

“That’s because most of it was premade.” Peter smirks at you.

“That stuff is pretty hard to mess up.” You admit. You walk outside to the sound of your name being called and feel Peter drop your hand. You both walk over to where Happy is standing.

“How was school kid?” Happy asks you.

“Not bad.” You say as he opens the door for you and Peter to climb into the back seat.

“Where are we heading?” Happy asks as he sits down in the front seat.

“Coffee.” You say, knowing Happy knows where your favorite shop is.

“Anything for the birthday girl.” Happy turns a blinker on and pulls away from the curb. You click open your phone and see that your dad tagged you in a picture from this morning at the breakfast table.

“My dad can’t seem to keep anything private. The whole world knows it’s my birthday now.” You say to Peter.

“It’s just ‘cause he loves you kid.” Happy’s voice flows from the front seat. You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Now your notifications are filled with thousands of birthday messages on your dad’s photo. But you also see a few pictures you’ve been tagged in, so you click on your profile to have easier access to them. Some are from people you don’t know, edits of pictures you’ve posted or the paps have, but a few are from Betty, MJ, Ned, and then you see that Peter tagged you in a picture. You click over to peter_p’s profile and see the collage of photos from the few months you two have been dating and some from your snapchat streak before that, but it’s the comment that he posted that gets you.

Happy birthday to the best girlfriend I could have ever asked for @y/nstark. I’m my happiest when I’m with you and I’ve never laughed as hard as I do when you make me laugh. Here’s to fifteen years treating you the best it should. Hopefully fifteen is when I finally get you to watch Star Wars too. You have my <3 babe. Here’s the first of many birthdays together.

You look over at Peter, who is oblivious to the fact that you just read his birthday message. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up at you. “What’s up?”

“You have my heart too.” Peter takes your hand in his and places kisses on your knuckles. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to saying ‘I love you’ in the almost six months of dating. It feels important.

“I think mine was yours before we even started dating. But I wouldn’t tell your dad that or I might not live to your next birthday.” Peter admits.

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

“So Peter, how’s your year going at MSST?” Pepper asks after orders have been placed.

“Good. I think anyway. I’m waiting for a couple of midterm grades to come back, but besides that my grades are where I want them to be and I’m taking my SAT and ACT for the third time next weekend.”

“Wanting to score well enough for MIT?” Tony asks.

“He’s trying to aim for scholarship levels. He’s already scored high enough to get in.” You say, unable to not brag about your boyfriend. Peter’s ears go pink at your words.

“Good to hear. If I’m going to talk to them about admitting you next year, then-”

“You’re a year off Dad.”

“I think we could get Peter into college a year early. I went early. I think Peter could do it too. He’s smart enough.”

“I won’t have the necessary classes.” Peter says.

“So we talk to MSST and you could take some extra classes to graduate early.” Tony points out.

“You’re just trying to get him a few states away from me.” You point out before taking a sip from your water glass.

“I think May isn’t ready for me to head off to college for a couple years. Financially.” Peter says with a slight cough.

“Well there’s always the September Grant.”

“Yeah that’s what you told her about when you came over the first time. I don’t think she’ll go for that lie again.” Peter says, reaching for his own water glass.

“The September Grant is a real grant.” Pepper says. “And it is through MIT. Now if somebody,” she looks at your dad, “utilized the name to cover for something else, he’ll have to explain that. But it’s a very real grant.” She lifts her wine glass but before taking a sip she adds, “And whenever you’re ready to head to college, it’s open to you.”

“Wow, um thank you?” Peter says, his cheeks going red. “I think today is supposed to be about Y/N though.” You smile at your boyfriend.

“Right, our birthday girl. How has your birthday been so far?” Your dad asks, taking a sip from his whiskey glass.

“Good. I got a 100 on my English essay. And I passed my Chemistry and Biology midterms. So I won’t have to retake either of those classes next year hopefully.”

“Never doubted you would pass.” Your mom says with a smile. Personally, you don’t love the fact that you have to take two science classes a year at MSST, but you’re doing it.

“A 100 on your essay? That deserves a toast I think.” Tony raises his glass. You roll your eyes but raise your glass too. “To our English scholar and birthday girl.” After clinking glasses, your appetizers were brought out. Bruschetta for you and Pepper, a salad for your dad, and fried cheese bites for Peter. As you all munch on your food, the conversation flows between projects your dad and Peter are working on, SI things, and more school talk from you and Peter. This continues through entrees as well. Your dad offers to order dessert, but Pepper reminds him that there’s cake at home.

Little did you know, there are also a multitude of people waiting for you at home. Uncle Rhodey must have let everyone in, but when you walk into your house there’s a group of people shouting “Happy Birthday!”. You look around the room, seeing your friends- Astrid, Betty, MJ, and Ned- standing near Nana and Pops as well as Vision and, to your and Tony’s surprise, your Aunt Nat standing to the side of the room. Peter’s hand is wrapped around your waist, he knows you’re excited to see your aunt. However, his sixth sense tells him that some of the people in the room, Tony and even possibly Colonel Rhodes, don't seem to like that she’s here. Neither man seems ready to drag her out of the room, at least not in front of you, seeing how she’s part of the reasons that Captain America got away. But you don’t know that. No one except the people who weren't in Germany know that. So he’ll smile and play nice, to make you happy on your birthday.

While you’re over giving hugs to your Nana and Pops, Rhodey and Tony make their way to say something to Natasha. “You’re here just for this. As soon as gifts are opened and cake is cut, you disappear, or-”

“I know. I wasn’t going to disappoint Y/N and miss her birthday.” Natasha says, squaring off to Tony, reminding him that he might be an Avenger but she’s not one to be messed with either.

“You’re still wanted for what happened in Germany.”

“I know.” Before any of them can say anything else, the birthday girl’s arms are wrapped around her aunt’s waist.

“Aunt Nat, you’re here!” Rhodey and Tony step away to give Natasha a moment with you.

“I am. I wasn’t going to miss your birthday.”

“Is Dad and Uncle Rhodey going to send you away to some like prison or something after this?” You ask all worried, but your aunt shakes her head.

“I’m pardoned for one night. It’s a birthday gift I think.”

“I’ll take it.” You pull your aunt in for another hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. But today’s about celebrating you. So…” She trails off, motioning towards your friends and family. Across the room, Betty, Astrid, and Ned all look awestruck at the sight of you talking with the Black Widow.

“Come meet my friends.” You say, pointing towards where your friends are waiting. The room fills with the sounds of you talking with the people you love and who love you. Tony queues FRIDAY to play some of your favorite music and everyone relaxes into celebrating you. You end up on the couch surrounded by your parents to open gifts, the rest of your family and friends sitting in various places in the living room. So far you’ve opened a lot of graphic tees and books. Peter got you a shirt that said ‘The Sass is Strong With This One’ in the Star Wars print as well as a sweatshirt that said ‘Friday is My Second Favorite F Word’ which got a laugh out of everyone, Natasha got you some books you had added to your Goodreads page recently, Betty got you two sweatshirts that read ‘Gangsta Napper’ and ‘I’d Rather Be Sleeping’. You’re now on the gifts from Nana and Pops.

“We thought it was time for you to finally have these.” You unwrap the first of the two boxes, a smaller one. Taking off the paper, you’re surprised to find a jewelry box waiting for you. Inside is a pair of pearl earrings. “These were your mom’s. When she went into rehab, she left them with us, because she wanted to make sure that you had something of hers, one day.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you take the paper off the other box, finding a matching necklace. You don’t know what to say. You don’t remember the woman who left these for you as she went off to required rehab after giving birth to a crack baby. When you hear Mom, your thoughts go to Pepper, not the woman who these belong to. But you let the cold, weighted stones drape over your hand as you hold the necklace. “She wanted you to have them one day.”

“Those are beautiful.” Pepper says softly from next to you, breaking the silence that you hadn’t known how to break.

“Right, yeah, thanks Nana. These are gorgeous.” Pepper can tell there’s something about the jewelry that is making you uncomfortable, but she’s not going to just ask you in front of everyone. She can wait until it’s just you, her, and Tony, or even just you and her later. But the Mama Bear in her wants to pull you into her arms and never let you go. You place the two offending boxes on the coffee table.

“My turn!” Astrid says holding a light blue gift bag out towards you. “I’ve been waiting weeks to give this to you.” You pull out the tissue paper and reach a hand in to pull out a pair of Mickey Ears that are sparkling black with a rainbow bow in the center. “It’s the pride ears you talked about!”

“I love them Astrid!” Your friends know how obsessed you are with collecting new Pride stuff to have on hand for Pride Events or just day to day life. “Maybe I’ll wear them to Pride this year.”

“There’s more in there.” You pull out a grey shirt that says ‘To Read or Not To Read, What A Stupid Question’ as well as a baseball tee that reads ‘God Said Adam and Eve so I Did Both’ in Blue, Pink, and Purple ink.

“Astrid, these are amazing.”

Ned gave you a Labyrinth board game, Vision had gotten you some anti-math graphic tees, and now Uncle Rhodey was going to give you gifts before your parents give you their gifts.

“For you Baby Stark.” Your Uncle Rhodey hands you a box and you roll your eyes at the nickname.

“I thought my dad was the one who is supposed to be the one with all the nicknames.”

“Hang around him too long and you start up on them too.” You take the paper off and open the white box to find more graphic tee shirts. The first one you get not even halfway through reading when your dad shouts out.

“Absolutely not.” You finish reading the white print on the black shirt ‘Look Like A Princess Fight Like An Avenger.’

“You don’t like it, Tones?” Your uncle teases.

“Yeah Dad? I thought this would be my motto from here on out.”

“Burn it.” Your dad says angrily and your mom laughs. You turn the shirt around so your confused guests can read it. Everyone laughs as you set it on the coffee table to see what else is in the box. Underneath, there is a black sweatshirt that reads ‘The Trash Get Picked Up Tomorrow. Get Ready.’ Lastly, there’s a tee that reads ‘I’m Allergic to Mondays’. All of the shirts you’ve gotten so far are very you.

“Thanks Uncle Rhodey.” You set the shirts with the growing pile of new ones you’ve received today.

“Our turn.” Your dad says, reaching beside the couch to pull out a few boxes.

“This is way too many.” Most people at the party had limited to one gift. But your dad seems to have forgotten that there is such a thing as limiting one’s self.

“It’s not every day your kid turns fifteen.” You raise an eyebrow, telling him that that excuse doesn’t work. “Plus these are from me and Pep.”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes. He hands you a bigger box first, one that if you had to guess is probably a pair of converse. You take the paper off the box and aren’t surprised to find the familiar black and brown box waiting under the paper. But the shoes you find inside the box, you’ve never seen before. “Galaxy hightops?” You look to your mom, knowing that she had to be the one to find these.

“Thought you might enjoy them.” She says with a smile. You throw your arms around her.

“These are so cool!”

“Wow I see that I’m just chopped liver.” Your dad teases. You wrap your arms around him too.

“Thanks Dad.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Open the next one. I think you’ll enjoy that one too.” This box is a slimmer, flatter box and you guess it’s probably some piece of clothing, seeing as it doesn’t weigh a ton. You slide a finger under the tape to open the box open up after taking the paper off and open it up to find another jean jacket looking at you. You’re confused, since you already have one you wear a lot, but you take it out of the box and flip it to the back to look at the jacket before saying anything. And that’s when you see it. The tongue sticking out of a mouth. It’s a Rolling Stones jean jacket. You look between your parents.

“This one was all your dad.” Pepper says softly and the smile grows on your face.

“Even though they’re only subpar?” You ask.

“They make you happy and that’s what matters.” This time, your arms are around your dad before you can stop yourself.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Always and forever kiddo.” Tony holds you close for a moment, before saying a little louder. “I think you’ve still got a couple more things to open.” He slides another flat box into your lap, saving the most important gift for last.

“Ok, ok.” You say, tearing the paper from the box. You’re guessing this is another clothing item and if it follows the trend of everyone else's gifts, it’s probably a graphic tee. But upon opening the box, you realize your guess is wrong. Sitting in the box is one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve ever seen. It’s a black cotton dress with flowers printed on it. There’s a burgundy trim around the neckline of the dress as well as white iridescent buttons, and at the bottom of the dress is an almost tribal looking print covering the bottom of the dress.

“I saw this in a shop and knew you had to have it.” Pepper admits.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathe out softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Pepper says like it’s no big deal, and maybe it isn’t to her, but it is to you. It’s your mom buying things like this because she thought it was important that you have things like that. It matters to you. Tony grabs the last box and hands it to Pepper instead of you, which throws you off. There’s a moment of conversation that happens only between their eyes. But Pepper takes a breath and then holds the box out to you. You look at her, silently asking if you should open it. She smiles at you and you start to take the paper off the small box. As you take the paper off, Pepper explains. “This is something that has been passed down from mother to daughter in my family for generations and when my mom gave it to me, she told me to hold on to it until the day that I wanted to give it to my daughter.” You open another jewelry box to see a beautiful opal ring with two small diamonds on either side of the gem.

“Wow. You want me to have this?” You can’t help but ask, staring at the ring in your hands.

“Why wouldn’t I want my daughter to have it?” Pepper asks, wrapping an arm around you. You lean into her side. “It’s yours until the day you want to give it to your daughter.” She says, as if passing a family heirloom on to you was no big deal. You take the ring out of the black velvet and hold the gold band between two fingers for a moment before sliding it onto your middle finger, guessing that that finger is the one that it will fit the best on. “We can get it resized if we need to.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You say, looking at where it now sits. You might never take the opal ring off, because it looks perfect where it is. You look up from the ring to look at your mom, when out of the corner of your eye, you spot Nana and Pops. They had given you jewelry too and you hadn’t directly put it on. Are you insulting them? “Thanks Mom.” You say giving Pepper another hug.

Later that night you find yourself looking at the ring as you sit on your bed. Your birthday has been pretty perfect, but you can’t help but think about the situation with the jewelry and wonder if you should have handled it differently. Should you have put on your biological mother’s jewelry instead? Should you have put on both? The questions linger in your head as you stare at the ring that you love because it came from Pepper.

“So all in all how was the big birthday?” Pepper’s voice draws you from your thoughts.

You smile before answering, “Good. I don’t think I could have asked for a better birthday.”

“You know you don’t have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable or anything.” Pepper says as she makes her way towards your bed to sit.

You don’t understand what she means. “Huh?”

“The ring. It’s yours. But you don’t have to wear it-”

“I don’t think I’ll ever take it off.” You cut her off before she has the chance to finish her thought. “I love it Mom.” You reassure her.

“If I had known your grandparents were bringing you jewelry too, I would have saved it for another day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or try to, I don’t know, step over your mom’s place-” Once again you cut her off before she can finish her thought.

“You didn’t.” Pepper looks at you, trying to gauge where you are at with everything that happened tonight. “If anything, I don’t know how to feel about their gift. But I know how I feel about yours.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Pepper says. You let your hand fall so you’re not staring at the ring, but your fingers of your left hand reach to your right to twist it.

“You know how I told you she left for rehab right after I was born because I was born addicted?” Pepper nods, remembering the story you shared right after you moved in with her and Tony. “Well, that’s a story I heard from someone else. I don’t have any actual memories from her. And I have the quilt she made and now the jewelry, but…” you trail off for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “It’s hard… I don’t know if she actually left those pieces for me to have, or if Nana and Pops took them so she couldn’t sell them for drug money. Nana and Pops have told me the truth about why my biological mother isn’t here. But she was a drug addict. There was a lot of stuff that Nana would mention off hand to Pops about being gone that she missed in terms of jewelry and stuff because my biological mother sold it. So I feel like I only have these pieces because Nana hid them, not because my biological mother wanted me to have them. Getting them as gifts, it… it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Because it’s something that Nana more wanted me to have than the mother that left me to go back to the drugs that could have killed me.” You take in a shaky inhale before continuing. “But you? You wanted me. You adopted me and you gave me stuff that was meant for your daughter.”

“You are my daughter Y/N.”

“There’s nothing saying that you and Dad won’t have a daughter one day.”

“We already do.” Pepper corrects you. “Can I sit?” She motions next to you. You nod. She sits next to you, wrapping her arm around you. You lean into the scent of lavender that calms you especially when coming from Pepper. “You’re my kid. Whether or not your dad and I have more kids one day, you will always be my first born. That’s why I wanted to give the ring to you. Because it felt the way it did when my mom gave the ring to me. It felt right. And one day, you’ll feel the same way when you give it to your kid. You’re my kid.”

“I feel…” You stop yourself, not sure if you should even voice it.

“You feel…?” Pepper asks, but doesn’t push.

You decide to start it a different way. “I worry that Nana and Pops might hate that I found you to be my mom.”

“If they do, we can sit down and talk with them. With everything else you have on your plate, you don’t need to be worried about anything else. Right now, you just need to focus on staying with the things that make you happy.” Pepper says, running her hand through your hair, hoping it will calm you. “You don’t need to spend your birthday night stressing.”

“I love you Mom.”

“I love you too sweetheart. Always have, always will.”

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 3 years

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Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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fangirl-1523 · 4 years

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My Sworn Brothers [Luffy x Crossover!Sister!Reader x Ace x Sabo]

A/N: Hey, so I want to write a High School AU of the many, many anime I have watched/ read. Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Devil is a Part-Timer, Durarara, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, High School of the Dead, InuYasha, Kill La Kill, Magi, My Hero Academia, Noragami, One Piece, Ouran High School Host Club, Pokemon, Saiki K, Sailor Moon, Seven Deadly Sins, Soul Eater, Sword Art Online, Vampire Knight, Your Lie in April, and Yu Gi-Oh. And I was wondering who would you like to be apart of your friend? And would you like to have a relation to any of the characters of the world.

Summary: [Y/N] is the oldest sworn sister to Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. And after finding Ace and Sabo aboard Luffy’s ship, the Thousand Sunny, she explains to them who she is, her other sworn brothers and sisters, embarrasses the three of them (a regular Tuesday for her), and threatens them with a chalkboard for interrupting her. Multiple times. In this story, most of the anime I am into is in the same world (Bleach, Blue Exorcist, Fairy Tail, Fullmetal Alchemist, InuYasha, Magi, My Hero Academia, Naruto, Noragami, Seven Deadly Sins, and Sword Art Online. I might do a part 2.

Warnings: spoilers for the above mangas and animes, also, even though this is along the timeline of after the time skip (at some point), I took the creative liberty to have Ace alive during this meeting for a quad family reunion, might be language

Word Count: 1, 668

“How the hell am I suppose to believe that my three idiotic brothers would be in the same place at the exact same time I’m trying to find them?” the girl with [H/C] hair, old enough to be Luffy’s age, maybe a year younger or a year older than him.

“[Y/N]!!” the rubber boy flung himself at her in a hug.

She fell down on her butt from the impact of the hug. She groaned before pushing the boy off of her and standing up, dusting herself off. “Geez, Lu. I was on a job, just finished, and I heard something about a Straw Hat, a Fire Fist, and a blonde with a top hat that put the mad hatter to shame. I just came to see if the rumors are true.”

“What job did you have, sis?” Sabo said as he sipped a smoothie created from Vinsmoke Sanji.

“Well, you see. In the ten years I’ve been gone, I’ve been busy. Both with being lazy and being diligent.” the girl explained. “I am a member of Fairy Tail. Dragon Slayer Magic, particularly fire, water, earth, air, and plant. Requip the Knight. Some space jumping there and vortex opening here.”

“You got the two mixed up, kid.” Ace said from his spot next to Sabo.

The girl grinned an evil grin. “Oh, did I, Ace of Clubs?”

The raven haired pirate groaned at the nickname while Luffy’s crew members wondered after the nickname. Ace kept giving her the don’t-tell-them-anything look with a cut-it-out motion. She, like most people she knew, did not listen to reason.

“Well, when we were younger, I attempted to teach the pour unfortunate souls that you call Luffy, Sabo, and Ace golf. And we played mini-gold. First hole we went to, the club flew out of Ace’s hand and crashed into the window where the pour lady working the club stand was clonked on the head and fell unconscious. Another fun fact: I’m overly competitive and therefore master of mini gold. Luffy on the other hand... beat my bowling high score of just a little over four hundred points.” [Y/N] explained.

“THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY GOLF, YOU IDIOT!” Usopp shouted at his captain.

“Ace was a lot worse. However, on the eighteenth hole, got a hole in one. Although with team sports, I always sided with Luffy ‘cuz he was the baby of the family.” she explained.

“Never play Volleyball with her unless you’re Luffy.” Sabo warned the Straw Hat Pirates.

“Could you... possibly.... explain who you are?” asked Nami.

“That’s an easy and excellent question, m’lady. I am [Y/N] [L/N], the daughter of the Demon King from the Demon Clan, Niece of Solomon, adoptive daughter of the great dragon, The Curse of Depravity, a mage of S-Class ranking, the best older sister anyone can have, a Shinigami, and the Pirate Fairy.” [Y/N] said with her hands on her hips like wonder woman.

“You’re not wonder woman, dumbass.” Ace muttered.

She scowled at the boy (who was now physically older than her). “I know that, asshole.” Ace shrugged his shoulders at that. “Anyways, I should get going. I’m here with my teammates. And Salamander will have a cow if he finds out I’m on a Pirate Ship. Which may or may not include Natsu asking you all to fight him at once for his sister.” [Y/N] shrugged.

“SISTER?!” Luffy screeched.

“YOU ALREADY REPLACED US?!” Ace and Sabo said in unison.

“This is why I never took you to Amusement parks or sat next to you on a ride.” she clenched at her swollen ears. “No, I was merely saying that I have something called [Y/N]’s Council of Brothers. They’re basically a band of boys I feel need my protection, wisdom, and power to embarrass them until they’re six feet under and rotting.”

“She’s dark.” Nami said. “But can you explain this whole Council of Brothers thing. Because I’m not sure they,” the ginger pointed to the three brothers, “understand.”

“Alright! I will go over a lesson here!” and suddenly a white board appeared by her side with writing already on it.

“Where did you get the white board?” asked Luffy.

“That’s not important right now.” she scowled. “Yes, Sabo.”

“Was that Whiteboard always there and we just never noticed it?” the blonde asked.

“No. Ace if this is a question about the white board, I will smack you with the same gold club that flew through that window. All questions about the stupid whiteboard will be answered after I explained everything. Got it?”

The three brothers grumbled out a, “Yes.”

“Good. Anyways, to start it off I have two half-brothers. Meliodas and Zeldris.” she slapped a pointer stick against the whiteboard.

“Did she always have that?” Ace asked, whispering it to his two brothers.

“I don’t know. I’m just glad someone noticed it besides me.” Sabo murmured back.

“SILENCE, YOU INSOLENCE FOOLS!” and she threw a frying pan which hit Ace in the head.

Why does she have a frying pan in her requips? Sabo wondered in his head, not wanting to get hit in the head with anything else she might have to throw at them.

“Anyways, Meliodas and Zeldris are my half-brothers. Zeldris is the captain of the Demon Clan’s ten Commandments while Meliodas is the captain of Liones’s Seven Deadly Sins of which I am co-captain and the Phoenix Sin of Darkness. To be fair, I look more like my mother and I think the only thing me, Meliodas, and Zeldris share is our dumbassery we inherited from our father. Second off, my cousin is Magi Aladdin since my mother is his father, Solomon,’s sister. Now, that’s enough of my actual biological family. Now, I won’t go into detail about those three. Because you already seem well-acquainted with one another. Anyways, onto the next one. The next one on my list of brothers is a half-demon named Rin who is the son of Satan along with his younger brother, Yukio, but he doesn’t really need protection. next is Kazuto Kirigaya also known as Kirito. I prefer to call him that. He got stuck in a game where if you die there, you die in real life, but he defeated them. next, we have Satan himself, a king of demons, Sadou Maou. He works as a part-timer for a fast food chain which is sad to be honest. Next, we have Alibaba Saluja, a prince and a king’s candidate, also my cousin’s best friend. He wields the fire djinn, Amon. Also, he’s trying to be a gladiator while figuring out his feelings for Fanalis and former slave Morgiana. Next, we have actual God Yato who is a former god of calamity and a current god of war. I think. I’m not quite sure. But he and his two regalia, Yukine and a Nora named Kazuma, but also Kazune under Yato, must be protected by me at all cost. Then, we have Edward Elric, a alchemist missing both a leg and an arm because he wanted to see his mom’s smile again which kicks me in the heartstrings whenever I hear it. His brother, Alphonse, is an honorary member of the Council of Brothers. And he used to be entirely a soul attached to a suit of armor. No joke.”

“Does no one else notice that they are mostly raven haired or blonde?” Nico Robin commented.

The Straw Hat Pirates turned to the three sworn brothers who just shrugged their shoulders at that. “I admit I am guilty for that. But my actual brothers are raven headed and blonde, so that may be the reason. Anyways, off to the next people. Now, this person could make Luffy look like a genius. Sometimes. Natsu Dragneel, a salmon haired fire dragon slayer, is the brother of Zeref Dragneel, the black wizard, and also simultaneously END, the most powerful demon of the book of zeref which makes him one of the top fifteen most powerful demons. Next, we have strawberry boi, Ichigo Kurosaki, a shinigami who I’ve been helping train. He could see the dead and then he discovered his spiritual power, stole the shinigami powers of Rukia Kuchiki, and started to exorcist hollows and send souls to the soul society. Then, we have my favorite band of brothers since they could literally be in a band. Broccoli Boi, Izuku Midoriya, kinda has a power augmentation quirk, best way to describe it without giving too much away, Porcupine Katsuki Bakugo who can blow things up with help from his sweat. Zuko Wannabe Shoto Todoroki who can wield fire and ice. Also, his brother Touya may or may not be Dabi. Then, Pikachu Kaminari Denki who can utilize elctricity, but too much and he makes Luffy look like a genius. No joke. Well… maybe… I don’t really know. Anyways, then we have speedster Tenya Iida. Oh, there’s sharkboy Eijiro Kirishima. He can make himself go as hard as rock, but he has limitations. Then, we have spidertape Hanta Sero that can shoot tape out of his elbows. Then, half-demon InuYAsha who is the son of a dog demon and a mortal woman. There’s also Shippo who is an adorable little kitsune. And I think I got everyone.” the girl looked at her board before smacking it again as she noticed Luffy had begun to doze off while Ace had totally fallen asleep.

The action alerted the two boys to wake up at once and glare at their older sister. And then, a silver haired undead man with a flying blue cat landed on the floor of the ship. “Thank goodness we found you. C’mon. We got a mission and you and your ‘Team Natsu’ have a job request from the old man and a princess.”

“So Hisui and Bartra both agree to have us do something, but what is this so-called mission?” asked [Y/N].

Ban smirked. “We’re fighting slave-trading pirates.”

“I want in!” Luffy cheered.

#one piece #sabo #portgas_d_ace #portgas d. ace #luffy #monkey d luffy #fairy tail #seven deadly sins #anime #crossover #one piece x reader #asl #asl x sister reader

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chronicle-21 · 3 years

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My first tumblr post.

I want to discuss something that has been on my mind recently. It has bothered me deep down for many years, and the feeling of not saying anything is painful. I hope that by writing this, others are able to relate.

My high school friends were never my true friends. There. I said it. Years of never saying anything that I wanted to say to them because I was young and too nice. I was afraid of having no friends. If I ever said anything, I made the mistake of pouring my heart out on social media. Dumb mistake, but I was desperate for someone to understand.

I think part of the issue was that our families were way different raising us. My family was lower middle class, and sometimes my father did not have a job. We did not always have much money, but we got by okay. We never took true vacations or went out of state for anything. My parents scrounged at every penny to save up to send us to Disney for marching band in high school. One of my favorite memories. As teenagers, my siblings and I learned the value of money. When I turned 16, my parents made me get a job. I have worked ever since then (I’m almost 30). It was from then on that I bought everything (for the most part) myself. I felt the pain of buying things with my measly minimum wage jobs, whereas my friends had their parents pay for everything. I won’t lie, growing up I’d be a bit jealous. I never spoke of it. It was deep down. I wished that my parents would pay for everything. As an adult, I know and understand my parents situation, and I believe that it has humbled me and taught me empathy for others. My friends didn’t understand this at all. I’m glad their families had the ability to afford their lives, but I also think they did them a disservice.

Once we all graduated high school, we all went our separate ways and went to different universities. People grow and change, and that’s okay! When we first met back up on school holiday breaks, I noticed that they became, I don’t know, egotistical? Narcissistic? Full of themselves? They were all in a similar major dealing with med school, while I was getting my degree in education. I sensed that they didn’t take my major seriously. I understand that they had similar stories and class information that they were excited to share with each other, but it was all they talked about. I could never get a word in edge-wise. I felt like a third wheel. It became so that EVERYTIME we hung out, they would only talk about themselves and their classes. I just couldn’t relate. None of my classes were science or math related (or at least not on that level). It got to the point where I met them a restaurant after not seeing them for six months or more and they never talked to me or asked how I was doing. They greeted and acted like they liked seeing me, but I don’t think they cared much beyond that. I just sat there and listened. I could have interjected, but that would be rude. I could have tried to put my two cents in, but I just could not relate. It was one of the first real breaking points in our friendship that I realized that they didn’t care about me. I was beneath them.

I was sent on this downward spiral of realizing over all these years that I was: 1) Not going to fit in with them, ever. 2) Always be viewed as beneath them. And 3) They didn’t care about me truly. Let me explain. Please. I beg. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Here’s some examples that stick out to me.

-Growing up, we would give gifts to each other and like I had mentioned, we didn’t have much money. My parents would sometimes give $20 to split between three friends for Christmas or birthdays. Sometimes it would be my paycheck money. I would often find gifts at Walmart (for example, cheap jewelry, shirts, cute accessories, etc) or places like Big Lots, or sometimes things at the mall if something was priced right. I can remember one of the friends saying, “Oh, did you get this at the dollar store?” I remember feeling embarrassed. Trying to find a gift on a budget, and I felt like a fool. It gets worse.

-I used to buy jewelry candles back when they were a craze. I loved the surprise of not knowing if you’ll get a real piece of jewelry or not. I remember I found several rings that were real stones and real silver. Not diamonds but I felt excited to have real silver and real gemstones. I wore them out to eat and one of my friends commented that they liked my rings. I explained jewelry candles. My other friend spoke up and said, “Yeah, they look like something you get from a ring candle.” I’m not here to impress you people. I was wearing it because it made me happy. Similarly, they would look at what brand purse or jacket I was wearing and comment on it. Sometimes almost implying I got it thrifting like I couldn’t just buy it full price. (I was an adult at this point and working full time).

-My high school graduation party, none of my friends came. They were all supposedly on vacation. Fine. I can’t do anything about that. Let it be known that I went to all of theirs and bought them all gifts. Better gifts than I had ever gotten them before (had a better job with more hours in school). Never got any gifts from them.

-Was a bridesmaid, in one friend’s wedding. I probably shouldn’t have agreed to do it, but I was. My others friends were bridesmaids, as well plus some of her friends from college. The bride was the one I was closest to. The whole thing with the other bridesmaids was beyond stressful. The bride had no maid of honor but one acted like they were. She was one of the friends from high school. She had us do all these super extra unnecessary things last minute. I found out later that these extra things were part of her gift! I spent hundreds on this wedding that wasn’t mine and she had the nerve to do everything free and play our hard work off as her gift because she was cheap. We had all made that gift ourselves and she had the nerve to make it her gift since it was her idea. She had her masters at that point and was working a good job. I worked at a grocery store going to school part time. I had went and took a painting class for one of my gifts that was customized. I paid $280 for a bridesmaid dress and had it fitted and seamed, plus shoes and nails. The dinner for the bachelorette party at a vineyard. -The bride may have been trying to have been nice to me when she offered to pay for my dress and then I could pay her back. I had been making payments on it since I also had my car bill, phone, and other things. It felt like a slap in the face. I guess the others girls paid theirs off in one payment and she found that out. I splurged and paid the rest of the money on it because I was embarrassed. It wasn’t like it was too outrageous to afford, but I just had other things to pay at the time. All her bridesmaids were in the medical field and came from good money. The one girl’s family owned a lake. That same girl also wouldn’t talk to me the entire time. The night of the bachelorette party, the one girl’s mom paid for our room and all the other girls got a bed. I had to sleep on the pullout couch. It was super lumpy and uncomfortable. Once again, embarrassing. I left the hotel in the middle of the night and drove home. I didn’t live far. I drove back in the morning and got brunch with them. Acted like nothing happened.

-Mid 20s: My friends were all back in town. We decided to meet back up. They decided to meet at bar in downtown. I go and they all have their significant others with them. I would have brought my boyfriend at the time if I had known. I felt like a third wheel. The bar was loud and cramped. Live music was playing. After we greeted each other, no one talked to me. I was sitting on the end and tried to conversate over the music at the bar. I had weird feelings and thought about leaving. The live music ended after a few hours. My one friend got up and went out to her car to get something. She came back in with two pretty boxes with my two other friends’ names on them. They opened them up in front of me. They had been invited to be her bridesmaids. I awkwardly sat there trying not to cry and feeling confused. These were my childhood-high school friends. I played it off like it didn’t bother me. I thought to myself, “Why invite me then?”. Stupid me stayed friends with them for several more years. I went to said friends bridal shower and wedding, like a fool. I got her nice gifts, like a fool.

-One friend has a weird thing about comparing herself to other people. I think it’s insecurity mixed with ego? I’ll explain. She always has to have the best things. A new car, a half million dollar house, private universities, the fact she’s been with her high school sweetheart who is a douchebag, honestly. They have an unhealthy relationship for various reasons. They are mostly together for (what the kids these days call) “clout”. They both have good jobs. She’s in the medical field and he was selling medical equipment last I knew. They like to bring up bad things each other did to each other in front of guests. For example, he tried to cheat on her in college, and she’ll bring it up to guilt him in front of people. “Remember when you tried to cheat on me...”. In public. They do it to each other. He lied about his political party because he was working for a politician and was trying to schmooze his way up. He later admitted he just lied to everyone and didn’t share the same the beliefs. Amongst many other things. They are married now. He wants kids, she doesn’t last I knew. They get on Facebook and use the hashtag #powercouple. Point is, she always wants to know what I’m up to. I’ve had to watch what I put on social media. I used to be more open and now I realize that people use that to judge or compare themselves to you. I don’t put where I work or where I live on there. I realized it’s nobody’s business. When I bought a house with my husband, she was wanted to know where exactly I lived so she could look up how much we bought our house for. I know this because I remembered her saying she loves to creep on people and find out things. We bought a home that we felt was affordable and had character. In high school, her and husband lived off of the high of being our grades most well-known couple. Everyone knew them together. They went to France together. They had their engagement photos done in London. She gets on Facebook for their anniversaries (how long they have been together and their wedding anniversary date) and says something like, “Can’t believe I’ve been stuck with you for 12 years. You gets on my nerves, but you’re a good cat dad to our cats. And you can cook. Haha. I love you. Or maybe I love the cats more”. Cringey.

An ending to this long story? Yes, for the most part. I want to mention that I made my own mistakes with them. I’m not perfect. I also know that I never said anything mean or degrading either. I realize that I never really spoke up to them. When I did it was because I was upset or frustrated with them. I was too worried about being alone. I was friends with these toxic people, and I eventually stopped seeing them. The last straw was seeing them on Instagram all hanging out without me. It’s fine. That’s their choice, and I wish they would have done it sooner instead of stringing me along. I’m not angry. It was my sign that we weren’t friends anymore. I deleted them off of social media. Nothing has been said to each ever since.

I want people to know that it’s okay to grow and change. It’s not okay to make others feel bad. It’s not healthy to compare and feel above others. Please don’t be afraid to speak up like I was. The fear of having no one scared me badly. Sometimes having just one good friend is better than having a group of friends. I ended up find my best friend after all of this! We’ve been best friends for six years now. It’s the most healthy and rewarding friendship I’ve ever had. We build each other up and can talk for hours! We don’t judge each at all. We love the simplicity in our lives.

I really just wanted to vent. I hope other people have similar stories to me. Feel free to share.

#narcissistic behavior #egotistic #better than you #bad friends #egotism #not friends

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thewritingstar · 4 years

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Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Blossutch (Blossom x Butch)

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Rating: M (drug use, mature themes, it’s butch do I even need to explain??)

Summary: An Ivy League school and a plan in place, Blossom has everything in order. But when a person from her past suddenly shows up, she wonders if her plans could be slightly rearranged.

I hope you all enjoy this new Wip that I am determined to finish!!! Enjoy!!! Also I’m on mobile so I’ll put the keep reading thing once I get on a computer sorry for the long post lol

———

“Bubbles, please stop crying.” Blossom patted her sobbing sisters back. She let out a laugh as Bubbles finally pulled away and squished her cheeks.

“But I'm going to miss you!” The tears were coming again and Blossom pulled her into one last hug.

Buttercup only huffed as she placed the last box on the ground. “Bubbles she is going to a college only three hours away from ours. We can fly in less than twenty minutes to see her.”

It was true. Blossom had gotten into every single college she applied to, no surprise there and only the ivy league schools would be suffice for her. On the other hand Bubbles and Buttercup were attending the same college on the opposite side of the city, Buttercup on a full ride for sports and Bubbles in one of the top art and fashion programs around. Their sister almost went to that school but after a smack to the face and yelling about going to the best school, Buttercup made sure her sister only got the best, afterall who was going to brag at Thanksgiving dinner?

“I know. I know but it just feels weird.” She shrugged before opening up a compact mirror and fixing her makeup. it closed with a pop. “I mean we all haven’t really been apart like ever.”

The thought did startle Blossom but that’s degree plaster on her wall protected by glass was the goal and if she had to be away from her sisters for a little bit, then so be it.

“She’s going to be fine Bubs.” And after a few more minutes of a goodbyes, Blossom was left alone in her apartment.

Her sisters got roomed together but Blossom knew she was a fragile person to live with. It was better to live by herself than try and work out a routine with a random stranger, plus the dorms were right next to all the frat houses and Blossom cringed every time she went near them.

How could such a presteigne school allow such juvenile behavior? She would never know.

It only took an hour for everything to be in place thanks to her super speed and pre-planning of the layout. It was a simple apartment. One bedroom with a small kitchenette and a living room, nothing fancy but had a few places to study and get work done, perfect.

Not to mention her bulletin board that already had her schedule up with prime study times and library hours, this was gonna be fun.

By the time she was done and took a shower, her stomach grumbled and she knew she should eat. It was no secret that Blossom wasn’t the best in the kitchn. Okay it was known that she was the worst but she knew how to boil water and use the microwave, but eating at all the small local cafes seemed much more appealing.

With her purse in hand she made her way out.

“Um excuse me?” A voice came just as she was locking her door. “You must be Blossom”

Blossom wanted to turn back around and go into her room. Yes she might have been one of the most famous people on the face of the earth but the girl was one for her alone time. She put on a smile and was ready to meet the fan, she loved meeting fans she was just hungry.

She looked up at the girl with bright blue eyes and long brown hair. A gasp leaving her lips and she squealed. “Robin!”

Her childhood friend who sadly moved a city over during middle school was now staring back at her. “Hey Blossy.” She giggled as she was pulled into a hug. “I would say I am surprised to see you but I’m not.”

Blossom could hardly contain her excitement as Robin wrapped an arm around her own, a little trait that she did with everyone, and they walked down the hall. “Dinner time?”

“Absolutely, we have so much to catch up on.” Blossom smiled back.

“I can’t believe you actually had to fight a monster on prom.” Robin laughed as she bit into her sandwich and Blossom rolled her eyes playfully.

“Really? I'm not.”

In that moment Blossom was thankful that Robin was there. Out of all their friends in school, she had always been the most genuine. Never once did the girls status affect their relationship and she never worried about any information about them getting leaked, unlike some of their classmates.

To be honest she was afraid to be on her own. Her sisters were still together and she had no one. She was a peoples person but not in the way Bubbles was. It was hard for her to deeply connect to people unless it was intellguiet.

“Soooo.” Robin started. “Did the boys go to high school with you?” She asked eagerly.

It took a moment for Blossom to process it. The boys? And then it hit her. Robin had been a fangirl, like most, when the boys had joined the school system at the age of 16. Of course she was gone before that had happened and only knew them as the counterparts who tried to kill the girls every once in a while but it didn’t stop her from eyeing them.

“They went to the rival high school.” Blossom said unenthusiastically as she patted her mouth with a napkin. “We all got along fine, just slight teasing.”

“Did you date any of them? I always thought you and the red one, Brick was it? Would end up a thing.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Bubbles and Boomer did. I followed her on social media and saw all the cute couple posts about them but someone.” She looked at Blossom. “Didn’t have social media.”

Blossom could see how everyone thought Brick and her would end up together. But to everyone dismay, they were only friends, maybe. And well, he was more occupied in the boy population than the girls. Of course she was one of the few to know that and they spent just as much time arguing about Shakespeare as they did bonding over the hottest member of boy bands.

“I have a private instagram that you can have. Brick and I are just friends, well he’s more like my best friend”

“That's too bad, I always thought you would end up with a ruff.” Robin laughed as she took Blossom's phone and plugged in her new number and every single social media she could find.

She got her phone back after a minute and dropped some bills on the table. “Sorry to disappoint but he doesn’t swing that way.”

“Oh really?” This surprised Robin.

She laughed a little. “Actually we tried to date.” Robin almost spit out her drink. “He took me on a date and when he kissed me it felt wrong, no spark, nothing. It was werid since we are counterparts but afterwards he told me that he was gay and was just making sure.”

“That's sweet.”

“So now we just braid each other's hair and judge people while complaining that we are single.”

“What about the green one?” Robin eyed her. “I don’t think Buttercup was into him right? But you could be. Imagine it, the bad boy and the good girl.” Robin was practically blushing.

“Absolutely not.” Blossom almost laughed. “I don’t even think he would go to college and plus, we don’t have anything in common.”

The brunette shrugged and picked up her jacket. “Don’t worry Bloss, this is college. We will find you a hot piece of ass to match with your fine ass.”

A loud laugh left her lips. “Thank you Robin. Now I heard there is a bakery near here that is to die for.”

“Oh you and your sweets.”

----

By the time her alarm went off, Blossom had already been on a morning run, ornginzed her books and ate at the small bakery that had the most amazing danishes. Unlike most people, she lived on the thrill of first days of school.

She made sure to double lock her door as she strutted out of her appartment and took in the fresh autum air. There was still about an hour before class but so she could walk as slow as she wanted.

The leaves where starting to tint to a rustic brown and crumble underneath her pumps, she was always a show fantaic and adored walking in heels even though she was already 5′6. There was something about being taller than most of the girls around her that provided a staggering connfiedcen in her, plus it made her more intrmidating against villains. Sometimes she wore 5 inch heels just to be 6 ft tall for the hell of it.

The walk to the main campus buildings took her past the majority of the socail houses. She eyed one of the frat houses that she wouldn’t bother knowing its name and a glare and bad taste formed in her mouth. She wondered why people even bothered going to college if they were just going to mess around and not do their work.

She huffed. She didn’t have time for those silly parties and games, she worked to damn hard to be the top of her class and she was determine to conquer this school too. And the school for her masters and eventally doctoral. She was going to be a leading chemist after all and follow in her fathers foot steps. He nearly cried when she said she wanted to work in his lab one day.

By the time she got to class, and stopped for a tall iced coffee, extra vanilla for her sweet tooth, class would begin in just ten mintues.

She was thrilled for her class. Professor Keene was amoung one of the smartest and well known chemists in the contry and when Blossom found out she was going to be learning from her, she almost blew up the house from exictemnt.

She took a seat in the middle row of the lecture hall and was happy that she wasn’t the only student in there. The class began to fill in but she was engaged in her book so she didn’t notcie anyone who was shuffling in the seat behind or around her. She thought about turning around and intrducing herself to other students. She felt a little bad about how stand offish she could be but she was a famous superhero so not wanting to be the center of attention was something she strived for. Unless it was for grades, then she would gladly take her crown.

Her phone buzzed quietly in the pocket of her skirt. A small smile came to her lips as she read the text from her sister group chat.

Bubbles: Hope you have a good day at school sis!

Buttercup: i hate this already

Blossom: Miss you!

She placed the device away as her closed her book and took out her text book.

“Hey can I borrow a pencil?” A voice came from her right and she reached into her bag and grabbed one without hesitation.

“Here you go.” She smiled brightly and as soon as her eyes locked onto his, she let out a gasp and nearly choked on air.

A smirk appeared on his face as took the pencil from her hand, their fingers touched and she felt a jolt of electriy run through her body. Those dark green eyes that she knew all too well pierced through her soul as she gaped at him.

“Butch?”

“The one and only.” he winked and she only narrowed her eyes at him. His being in his prescne had set a shiver down her spine and she thought she wouldn’t see him again, espcecially not at a place like this.

“How the fuck did you get into college.” She blurted out. She never meant to be rude but could you blame her?

The smirk fell instantyl as he raised a brow. “That wasn’t very nice.” His smirk reteruned quickly. “When the fuck do you cuss Pink?” He disregearded the isnult and instead leaned closer towards her. “Its pretty hot babe.”

Ugh those winks made her mad. Remindered her too much of there teenage years.

She wanted to yell at him for the use of the pet name but soon the professor walked in and Blossom almost forgot that she was in class. She shot him a glare and he only laughed as roll was being called. She could feel his eyes on her occsianlly and wanted nothing more than to freeze his hand and punch him in the stomach.

Her eyes stayed glue to the board and her ears listened delicatly to the lecture. she ignored every time he poked her with a pencil or said something that only super hearing could pick up.

“I could squash him like a bug.” She mumbled under her breath and she knew he heard, and was proabbly smiling and thinking dirty thoughts. Ugh.

“Alright that wraps up day one. I am cutting class shorter so that you all have time to get settle and situated.” And with that she packed up her breifcase and made her way out. Blossom admired how she held herself so well, all she saw was a image of what she wanted to be. A respectable woman of science.

Blossom looked down at her notes and smiled proudly at how neat they were. she had spent all of high school learning differnt technquies for optimal note taking and she had mastered it like a sience.

“So Pink.” Butch intterupted her thoughts and she turned to look at him, she almost forgot he was there...almost.

“What?”

“Wanna hang out?” He asked innocently. He even batted his eyelashes for an effect and Blossom fianlly finished packing up. The room around them had cleared out so they were the last two in the room.

“No not really.”

He scoffed at her and dramatically leaned in his seat. “Come on babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“You never yelled at Brick for saying it.”

She turned and rolled her eyes. “First of all Brick is my best friend, secondly, he calls me Toots.”

“So that's why I’m claiming Babe.”

“No!”

“Don’t tell me Boomer has that one? Because thats not fair, hes got Pigtails already, you should learn to share.” He was acting like a child.

“Ew no Boomer calls me nothing and neither will you.” She got up from her seat and left class, of course he was hot on her heels.

She didn’t bother walking fast as he would just catch her anyways and she had a feeling he wasn’t leaving her side any time soon, great.

“I like those shoes Pink.” He whistled.

“Stop staring at my legs.” She knew she should have worn black leggings instead of nude, fuck, it didn’t even matter, boys would find a way to make an outfit sexualized anyways.

He fake scoffed, he does that alot she noticed. “I would never look at your long goddess like legs and wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my waist as I-”

She hit him on the side of the head as he opened the door to exit the building. “In your dreams perv.”

“You better beileve in my dreams.” She ignored him and it was well past noon, she should get food.

“Wanna grab lunch?” He asked as if he read her mind. She probably should say no but she was too hungry to even care.

“Fine.” She’ll be “everything nice” for now.

Everything nice her ass. Sure she was a sweet girl but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put her foot down on bad behvior. Actually yes she would, she was Blossom after all. Bossy Blossy is what Buttercup always said. But scolding Butch, who is 19 mind you, for chewing with his mouth open was not being bossy, just a decdent human being.

“So high school? Did you graduate?” She asked him with a teasing tone.

During their high school years, the boys went to one on the oppsite side of town, probably for the fact that middle school was spent trying not to kill each other. I mean when you are born to kill someone, takes a while to get over it.

As the crime rate for the RowdyRuffs died down, and ya know the whole Boomer and Bubbles hooking up thing, they all decided to be civil with each other. Butch had taken up the sport of ‘flirithng with every girl he sees and pissing of BC because he felt like it. And Brick just wanted to beat Blossom in all things academic, they always tied.

Butch shurgged. “Nothing to tell, got to graduate, almost failed doing so too but I had my share of fun.”

Blossom took a sip of her lemonade. “How did you get here then?”

“Oh that. Yes how did I, Butch Jojo end up at this ivy league school? Well babe-”

“No”

“Yes. I am what you called, athetically inclined. Buttercup got a full ride on that basketball scholarship and I got the same, kinda of a greens thing.” He winked and she thought it over. It made sense that he would get a sports schaolrship but why here.

“Aren’t there other schools with better sport programs?”

“Sounds like you don’t want me here.” He gave her a pout.

“Not thats not it-”

“Relax babe, im teasing.” He stole one of her fries. Bitch. “I got them from all over but I didn’t want to go where Buttercup and the lovesick puppies were, I’m never living with Boomer again, superhearing is a curse when Bubbles is over.” He made a face and Blossom nodded as she emeber that one time she caught them-ew nevermind.

“So not there, what about Bricks school.”

“And have him up my ass constantly, no thanks. I needed to breath fresh air, plus the frat that I joined is top notch.”

She almost gaged. “Frat?” Why was she surpised?

He notced the hint of disapointment but brushed it off. “Yep. Apprently four other guys got the schalrship from that fraternity alone. If you get it and accept, you have to be there for at least two years, which means party, booze and babes.” He winked and it was her turn to scoff.

She stabbed a piece of lettuce from her salad. “Well you must be enjoying yourself then.” She had lost her appetite suddenly.

“Aww you’re the only girl I have eyes for doll.” That didn’t make her feel better and it shouldn’t have anyways.

“I would say don’t do anything stupid while you’re there but we both know thats not possible.”

“You flatter me Pink, thinking im the dumb one when blueberry boy is the offical Dumbest of the Dumb.”

“I’d be careful Butch, he passed high school with good grades.”

“And yet im at an ivy league school and hes not.”

“Touche”

“So which frat did you get into?” She asked out of politeness but that smirk that showed his slightly sharper than normal teeth already had her regretting it.

---

She shouldn’t have been shocked. No really. The fact that she was staring at the notorious frat house wasn’t even the worse part, it was how she didn’t connect the dots sooner. Of course he was in the highest ranked frat, Alpha Alp.

“Welcome home babe.” He winked and her eyes widened before offering her most polite smile, ya know the ones reserved for the press.

He hung an arm around her shoulder and lead her up the path way to the front door. Her eyes turned to the lawn, which was scattered with beer cans, cigarette buds and oh my, is that underwear? Why is she not surpised.

The house itself looked like it had alot of money invested in it and the boys who lived here were all proabbly from rich familes where daddy was sending them for a bussiness degree and to fuck around. She hated it.

Frats to her were the lowest point of college. Everyone here didn’t even work to get in, well not everyone, and they just got to party and spend money. The amount of horror stories that came from this house alone made her shutter.

There were handprints made of paint lining the wooden deck, presumabley of all the past members and a dark green print with ‘Butch’ sctarched in looked to be apart of the newest batch. She found it oddly charming in some sort of sick twisted way.

He opened the door with a loud slam and she knew that if he was back home, Brick would have yelled at him for being obnoxious and brash. She couldn’t blame him.

“Hey boys.” He yelled at the five guys surrouding the tv with more booze on the table. It was only a little bit past noon.

“Sup Butch. Ooo got a new toy and its only the first day!” One of them cheered and Blossom instantly scoffed and glared at him.

Butch sensed the disconfort immediately. “Actually boys.” He sneered with a smile. “This lovely lady is just an old friend who is smarter than all of you dimwits combined.” Blossom was now being pulled towards the right side of the house and up a flight of stairs.

That was a smart move Blossom thought. He knew better than to piss of a red. Sure the greens were the toughest and the blues could cry and throw the worst tantrums but the reds, making them mad was a death wish that only few had endorsed and would like to keep it that way.

They passed some more of his frat brothers, each giving them a wolf whistle, wink or a high five and each one made Blossom shiver. Before more things could be said Butch had closed the door of his room, ignoring all the hooping and hollering.

He let out a sigh and turned to Blossom who was sporting a frown.

“Sorry about that Bloss” He smiled lightly and she only shrugged.

“I didn’t expect anything less.” She replied as she turned to absorb the atmosphere

It was a simple room. Two beds, she assumed there was a roommate, dark oak furniture and a suitcase thrown on the ground. Clearly he hadn’t finished moving in. However when she turned to his desk there had been a sign of clear drug use.

“Did you snort cocaine before class?” She asked.

“Would you believe me if i said it was a pixie stick?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” He shrugged and plopped onto the bed. “So Pink, whatcha you wanna do?” He wiggled his eyebrows and she glared.

—

He had won this round of Go Fish. Of course she had already beat him five times but he said she couldn’t leave until he had a taste of victory or a taste of her lips, she chose the first one obviously.

“In ya face Pinky.” He flicked her bow and she rolled her eyes. He liked the bow. Even though it seemed childish to wear it, it screamed power and authority. Ever since he was a kid, he waited until he saw that flash of velvet red before starting a duel between the groups.

“One against five isn’t very good odds.”

“Maybe not but it just shows that I don’t give up. Now how about some poker, we can make it strip poker if ya like.” Again with the winks.

She shook her head. “The day I play strip poker is the day hell freezes over.” She looked out the window and saw the golden sky. “I should probably go, it’s getting late.”

It just registered that she had been here since noon and now it was almost 5 pm. How?

He frown and she thought he looked cute. No. He looked fine, not cute. Not cute.

She stood and slipped back on her shoes. Her eyes now level with his. She didn’t realize how tall he was compared to her. Sure she was only 5’8 in these shoes but she wasn’t used to someone being taller than her, specially since all the other Puffs and Ruffs fell below her.

He finished shoving the cards in his nightstand which probably had a stash of weed, cigarettes and snacks that again, probably laced with weed. He was lucky that the chemical x in his body reversed any damage those caused or else she would have scolded him more than usual.

“Well we can get dinner, there’s this really good place that has the best pizza.”

She thought about it and almost agreed. “Well pizza sounds good but I promised Robin that we would have sushi and movie night.”

“Can I-“

“Sorry Butch, it’s ladies night.” She shrugged and finally managed to get out the door before his puppy eyes showed up.

She ignored all the stares and teasing that the other frat house mates made as she walked out the door. The green ruff was right behind her and even though she couldn’t see him, she had a feeling that dark glare was being pointed in their direction.

“You don’t need to walk me home, im a big girl.”

“I know I just felt like it.” He clicked his tongue. “Ya know babe.” She shoved him. “This is the longest time we’ve ever hung out, jusy the two of us.”

“What are you implying?” Her voice was cold.

“Nothing doll. Just, it’s nice.” He fell silent after that and took in the fresh air.

The walk to her apartment wasn’t that far but when she arrived at the steps, she was a little sad.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Butch, do your homework.” She slightly scolded.

He leaned against the handrail. “Are you gonna punish me if I do bad?” That smirk again, ugh.

A dangerous thought got into her head as she leaned closer to him, their noses barely touching and she could see his eyes slightly widen and pink dust his cheeks.

“Maybe.” And as soon as he blinked, she was already walking up the stairs to her apartment.

His eyes blew wider than before as he realized just how close she was and that damn smirk. A smile grew on his face as he pushed off the rails and headed back to his own place.

“Game on Blossy.” He whispered to himself.

—

Robin was finishing the last of her food when Blossom told her about today.

“It’s not a big deal but we’ve never really hung out before.” Why did she feel weird.

“Is he hot?”

“Robin”

“Hey I haven’t seen him since middle school and if he was a hottie back then, imagine him now.”

Blossom didn’t want to admit that Butch was hot, but he was. Slightly tanned skin with dark raven hair and of course he was ripped and tone. She saw the way his arm flexed every time he grabbed a new card and yeah maybe he was attractive, so what?

“He’s fine.” Liar. “You would probably kill over if you saw him so it’s best to keep your distance.”

A laugh bubbled out of Robin and Blossom finished her own food.

“But it’s nice to have him around, much different from Boomer or Brick. Carefree and fun, dare I say.”

Robin nodded and the girls fell back into a comfortable silence as the movie played.

“Would you date him?” She asked out of no where. “I’d bet he date you.”

“He would date anything that moves.”

“Anwser the question Bloss.” Robin was now playing with fire. Blossoms love life had never been a top priority and now with the added stress of college, it may never be.

She thought about it and shook her head. “No.”

Robin only shrugged and became engrossed with the film again. Blossom sat there wondering why she didn’t believe herself when she said no.

She pushed those feelings aside and watched the screen as the man brought the woman into a passionate kiss with a beautiful sunset behind them. Deep down she wanted that to be her.

————-

Ahhh first chapter of my newest PPG fic!!! This is dedicated and practally for all the lovely people in the fandom!!!

#the powerpuff girls #ppg x rrb #ppg #rrb #Blossom x Butch #blossutch #reds and greens #college au #slow burn #ppg fanfiction #thewritingstar #blossom x butch

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