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dear-mrs-otome · 5 years

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In Defense of Theo...

Nobody asked for this, and probably nobody even wants this, but somewhere out there is at least one person wondering….how can anyone actually like this asshole? He’s a sadistic prick that belittles MC left and right, and I gotta admit - I was right there with you. When I first started playing Ikemen Vampire, I could barely stand Theo. The ‘dog’ thing was grating, the smug smirk didn’t seem as if it could possibly cover any softer sides, and especially with the sweetheart Vincent always nearby - why would anyone even look twice at his little brother?

Then I played one route with a Theo cameo. And then a second. And I started to notice a pattern...that when MC needed someone to lean on, Theo was always there. That somehow, quietly and with every bit of solid advice he dispensed, he forced me to think that maybe, just maybe, I’d misjudged him.

Maybe you’ve already made up your mind. Maybe he’ll never win you over. But for those curious as to why he torpedoed every preconception I had about him, feel free to read on - just be forewarned that after the cut, there will be unavoidable spoilers. I tried to keep things fairly vague, but some specifics are impossible to skirt when you’re talking about Theo and his motivations.

Starting with a simple list of Theo’s traits, so we can get those laid out right off the bat:

Theo’s strengths

Passionate

Idealistic

Ambitious

Reliable/Supportive

Selfless

Charismatic

Observant/Good at reading people

Protective

Theo’s weaknesses

Tunnel-visioned

Self-sacrificing

Doesn’t value self/Bases value on others

Bad Communicator re:Emotions

Wrathful

Stifling

Stubborn

Just like the vast majority of people, Theo’s strengths and weaknesses are often just reflections of each other - a trait when taken to its extreme becomes a flaw. Passion and idealism can become an inability to focus on anything outside of your values, selflessness can be taken to rash lengths, a desire to protect those we love can result in us smothering them and restricting their own efforts to grow.

But at heart, what to keep in mind when trying to understand Theo boils down to two things: 1) he will give anything, and I do mean anything - up to and including his very life - in service of those people and things he cares about and 2) deep down he undervalues himself criminally, no matter how arrogant and full of swagger he seems on the surface. More than once he says he’s just a ‘regular man’ and nothing in comparison to the geniuses and great figures that fill the mansion.

When MC first interacts with Theo in his own route, she’s terrified of him. He’s gruff, intimidating and intense, and strong-arms her into a working partnership she has little to no interest in initially. But over time she begins to see him for what he really is, and how her first impression of him was so far off the mark. She falls in love with his enthusiasm, his enduring love for art, and his dedication to artistic expression and frankly that’s very relatable. Who hasn’t been swayed by witnessing someone else’s passion and activism? His example inspires her to find her own commitment to a cause and the determination to stand up for things she believes worth preserving, no matter the cost.

Later on in his route is when the revelation comes to light that for certain reasons, Theo feels intensely responsible for her presence in the mansion. Everything he does, both in his own route from the very start, and the hints we see in other people’s, points to his sense of obligation to her and his desire to protect her and be a support she can rely on.

Despite all his talk of her being the ‘dog’, it’s Theo who is the real dog - a guard dog, fiercely loyal and committed to those he loves and incredibly protective of them. He grills Arthur’s MC to be sure that she cares about his friend for the right reasons, he jumps to Vincent’s defense at the slightest provocation (the same way he has ever since they were children and he defended him from bullies), and he is ready and willing to sacrifice everything he’s known and valued to preserve MC’s happiness - going so far as to choose to travel to the future with her in one of his endings so that she doesn’t have to give up the things that are important to her for his sake.

One of the things I find fascinating about Theo is that unlike the vast majority of tsunderes, his ‘walls’ and his outwardly off-putting behavior aren’t the result of some traumatic experience. His special brand of asshole-ism isn’t a reaction but more a proactive, conscious choice - it’s a role he’s opted to mold himself into. In Theo’s route, Vincent confesses to MC that their parents favored Theo, and he believes Theo has always pushed himself to act the way that he has so that their parents would hate him and love Vincent more. It’s easy to see how this is a pattern that has extended itself into adulthood, with Theo ready, willing, and able to make himself the ‘devil’ to Vincent’s ‘angel’ if it makes Vincent look better by comparison.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t naturally struggle with being open emotionally, in the other grand tsundere tradition. Theo often is tripped up by the fact that he’s so very adept at reading other people (in his own route, he’s clearly aware of MC’s affection long before she tries to tell him, and says as much to Arthur) that it seems to him as if the way he feels should be obvious, without being stated. He’s a man of actions and to him, they hold far more weight than words ever could. He struggles to comprehend that MC especially needs vocal, concise affirmation of his feelings...but anytime his errors or flaws are pointed out to him he takes quick action to rectify them and reassure her of her importance to him, and that’s a consistent trait across his route and events.

And, important she is. Theo repeatedly expresses the sentiment that MC has saved him, or is his salvation (we’re keeping with the devil theme here clearly) - that he’d be damned without her. His second life is dead-set on a disastrous, tragic course when she comes crashing into it, and through nothing more than recognizing his good qualities and supporting his ideals she eventually proves to him that his life is worth something. That he is worth something. She gives him a new definition by which to value himself, and he is impossibly and eternally grateful to her for that.

As a couple, they come to find support and strength in each other, and truly realize that they can be and do far greater things together than apart. It’s refreshing to see an otome couple that goes through hell and comes out the other side not just lovers but partners in every best sense of the word, because that is what real lasting love is built on - not the chemistry and the passion of moments, but the enduring commitment to face the world and its hardships together and realizing that unified...there’s nothing that can you can’t conquer.

There’s a vast amount more I could unpack about Theo - the relationship between him and Vincent alone is complex and borderline toxic, as much as I adore it, and it deserves an entire essay as well. But in the interest of not completely spoiling his route I’m going to save that rambling for another time and place...although if anyone wants to discuss that or anything else I’d mentioned here, please feel free to hit me up anytime to chat. I’m always happy to blather about my favorite fang-faced asshole.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #theodorus van gogh #spoiler #spoilers #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp discourse #this got long and stupidly rambly and incoherent #sorry friends i'm not better at this stuff #but i felt compelled to try and shed some light on this complicated guy #hopefully with at least some degree of success #bottom line is #please give him a chance #when his route comes #character analysis

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universallywriting · 4 years

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Drive Home

Steven's breath puffed in the air as he came to sit beside her, feet crunching in the frost and pine needles. He was glad they'd planned it the way they did, just cold enough so the Rocky Mountains were dusted with snow. Specks of brown and green covered the mounds that swallowed up the horizon, towering and beautiful, almost touchably close and endlessly far at the same time. Pine trees circled close around them, boulders jutting up from the earth, and he came to sit down on one beside Connie with a smile.

It was odd up in the mountains. Occasionally hikers would pass them by, or a family of tourists, but off the more well-worn trails that was rare. It was still odd for Steven, who so rarely traveled, to see so many people pass him by that he didn’t know the names of. So often he felt like he should see Buck’s familiar deadpan face, or hear Jenny’s laugh from one of the people that passed him by.

But the only familiar face was Connie’s. The thermos of tea he had brought her was hot in the metal flask. When they drove lower, he would switch back to her favorite black teas, carefully measured with swirls of honey and just the right kind of milk to make her smile. But high up in the mountains, the water didn’t boil hot enough.

Just thinking of her face the first morning she’d tried to make them both tea at 10,000 feet was enough to make him smile. The weak brew had made her nose wrinkle up in confusion, baffled at her perfectly measured cup failing, before she burst into giggles and explained the correlation between how water boiled and the altitude.

She was so brilliant. He handed it to her, enjoying the feel of being stupidly in love and out in the world alone with her before murmuring, “How do you feel?”

"Small. But in a good way. You?" She took a deep breath of mountain air, looking over the landscape. He wondered if she felt the same as him, or if we-moved-a-lot Connie never felt that same warm loneliness.

"Same." He smiled and looked back out. Questions about wanting to see familiar faces could be saved for the road home when they were barefoot and bored. “Wish I had come to places like this more often. Oceans are beautiful but... Nothing makes you feel more like a speck than a mountain. It's comforting."

"Just another little person, running across a big marble." She nudged him softly with her free hand. "Gets a little too much when you really see the marble though. I think going out in space can make Earth feel a little too small."

Steven nodded. "Yeah. This is a good middle ground. Earth feels big. I feel small. I like it this way.”

“Why don’t we stay?” Connie asked lightly. “Drive around forever.”

“I could be happy getting lost in these woods,” he agreed, but there was no weight to it. There was no weight to her words either. They swept away in the breeze, tumbling down stone and needles and babbling brooks to the world beneath.

"Me too." Her fingers wrapped tight around the sketchbook in her lap, the cover digging into her skin just at the brink of hurting. "I'm, um... I'm done with it, by the way. With my portfolio. I’ll submit it in the morning."

"That's great!" Steven said, throwing his arm around her shoulders with an eager squeeze. His lips found her temple in a reassuring kiss, seeing the nerves in the stiff lines of her body. "I'm so proud of you. Did the landscapes turn out the way you wanted?"

She opened her sketchbook and Steven eagerly looked over her shoulder, never tiring of the contents. It started with the temple. The morning they left Steven had found her on the beach, wrapped up in a hoodie in the early dawn chill, sketching his home and occasionally sipping at a coffee that had gone cold, and though she had insisted it wasn’t important, he had happily delayed their start until she finished.

Connie flipped to fields of grain. Traveling the midwest had been much less exciting than he expected. Keystone had rolled by and their eyes had glazed over as everything seemed to be the same three trees and two rocks. They had burst into Buckeye and passed through Kansas and had mumbled incoherently about corn while the radio tried to keep them alive and driving. That night they had stared at Connie’s grain drawing with a ghostly horror, neither of them remembering when she had drawn the stuff.

She moved past a drawing of rolling grassy hills. In Nebraska, he had floated to the top of the RV with her. While she drew, he had read about the Great Plains on his phone. They had taken a moment, in warm breeze and isolation, to let tears hit their eyes and cries choke their lungs as they read about what happened to buffalo who had roamed there once. They had whispered about colonies of all kinds, and there was no one around to reassure them, so they took the time to mourn things that might have been.

They had done the same in sand dunes, or close to it. The sketch she passed held more memory than a picture, the grays of her pencil capturing more than just the desert, but him breaking down over Kindergartens sucking life from the earth. Another sketch just after, with a lovely pink flower blossoming on top of a cactus, and he could hear her voice reassuring, “Nothing’s as lifeless as you’d think.”

Connie paused on his favorite, the polar bear she had sketched from the San Diego Zoo. They had spent such a long day there, but when they got to the polar bears she had stopped and gushed about them. The Spirit Morph saga had inspired her to do research, and she rambled facts. Polar bears had terrible success rates, with only two percent of their hunts being successful, did he know?

He really liked that idea. The largest bear of all, living in such a harsh environment, failed almost all the time. It fumbled and watched as victory slipped away, but it came back to try another day. It survived.

She finished on a sweeping mountain landscape, not too different from the one they sat in now. Connie set her phone next to it, a copy of her finished project next to the rougher draft. "That's the last one," she said quietly, pointing to the screen. "I think it turned out okay."

"It makes Earth look beautiful. I’d put it in a gem brochure," he reassured. “You chose a lot of amazing stuff.”

She bit her lower lip. “I hope so. I tried to choose what a school would think is best, not just the stuff I think is great. The stuff that shows skill, you know?

He kissed her cheek this time, saying, "Any school is going to be lucky to have you. You're amazing, Connie."

"I'm okay," she said, voice very practical about her own skills. Connie looked at him with a little laugh. "I don't know what's scarier - getting rejected or getting in. Mom was mad enough about the world US road trip gap year."

"She got over it! You know, after the meltdown." Steven said, wincing a little at the memory. He had sat behind her, trying to support her as quietly as possible while Priyanka and Connie growled and snapped at one another, each insisting on how the next year should be spent. And, at the end, the tearful apologies, the confessions of fear over the future… He had to admit that it was a relatable feeling, even if no one had fought with him.

"She'll get over this too. Come on. This is what you've always wanted. You're going to be an animator, Connie,” he said, and just saying the word made her eyes go a little wide with hope.

He remembered her earliest drawings with him, rougher but already so much nicer than his own. He remembered her working through how to draw anime books, silly cat-eared characters with huge eyes. Steven remembered her fumbling beyond that, hours of Tubetube tutorials, crying at the tablet he got her for her birthday, the countless gifts of fanart for his favorite shows. He remembered trembling hands the first time she showed him a comic, with characters he had never seen, because she had snatched them from the air the way he grabbed music.

Steven knew he was tearing up again like he did every time he told her, but he could never hold it back. “It’s what you live for, Connie. It’s what makes you happy. You're going to tell stories."

Connie breathed again, taking in pine and chill and rocks older than even the Crystal Gems by orders of magnitude. The world was big and wide and old, the universe even more so, and usually that made her problems feel small. But nothing could swallow up the fear and doubt today. She took his hand tight in her own.

"This has been amazing. Driving across the country, seeing all these different parts of the world, pitstops to warps so we can see everything Earth has to offer. Steven, I..." She looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past ten months have been the best months of my life. Everyone said we were going to get sick of each other. Your dad gave us that speech about how it was okay to bail. Everyone thought we were going to mess this up but... I'd do this for another year if it wasn't for college."

He was careful not to jostle her phone or sketchbook from her lap as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I loved this. I love you. No expectations. No scary future. No responsibilities. Just a big journey together.”

“I’m glad you loved it as much as I did,” she said with a smile.

“More than that. I needed it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Connie, I never could have asked for anything better than this. Everything at home was a mess. I’m so tired of all the work and responsibility and wondering what I’m going to do with my life. But this past year I just got to be with you and not be afraid."

"But now we have to go home," she whispered looking at the RV parked behind them. The place where they slept and ate. The place where they made stupid jokes and listened to terrible radio and podcasts. The place where they’d cried and kissed and worked through things they never thought they’d work through. But that was over now, and it loomed like a hearse. “We have to get in there and drive all the way back to Beach City. And then I... I have to wait to see if I get accepted.”

She laughed, cold and bitter, and took a hand to wipe at her eyes. He couldn’t see any tears falling, but Connie felt them stinging. “I’ve messed up on a lot of stuff, Steven. I know I seem smart, but most of it is from studying so hard. I’m not… special. I’m not talented. The odds are good they’re not gonna want me. And if they don't, I guess I'll go be a doctor or something. And, if they do, I..."

I’m screwed either way.

Steven shook his head hard. "You'll be an animator," he insisted. He took the thermos and set it aside, untouched, just so he could take both her hands in his. "You'll do exactly what you've been doing ever since I met you - telling stories. You'll finally get to be who you've always wanted to be."

She winced. "But my mom-"

"Who cares?" Steven said, barely holding back his temper. "We spent a year, just the two of us! You don’t need her to agree."

"Ten months," she corrected softly. "But, you're right. We did."

Steven didn’t like his temper. He didn’t like how angry he got. He didn’t like how easily he could drag Connie into it, drown her in it when they fused. He felt guilty about that. He worried about that a lot, that maybe his anger meant he wasn’t as good of a person as he liked to try to be. He loved Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, didn’t he? His anger shouldn’t be so burning and flaring when all they wanted was for Connie to be safe.

But his feelings for her parents got tangled in his own, and when he started down that path he felt that little voice hissing that they should leave them alone, and that they could do things on their own, and for once they wanted to live their own lives and forge their own paths, and was it really so much to ask for unconditional support in that?

Steven took a steady breath to calm himself. "She should be in your life. The gems should be in my life. But nobody... Nobody gets to tell you what to do with it. It took me so long to figure that out. I didn't get that making other people happy and hurting yourself to meet their expectations aren't the same thing. I spent my whole life trying to be my mom. I didn't know what to do when I wasn't."

Connie nodded weakly. "I know."

He took her face in his hands, pressing her forehead to hers. "You're not your mom. You never have been. You don’t love rules and coloring inside the lines. You sneak candy into movies and find loopholes in the law and climb giant robots and... And you love books. And comics. And television. You love survival."

Steven flipped back to the polar bear, gently tapping the page. "You drew this because of the warrior bears in the Spirit Morph Saga, because those books meant everything to you, and you want to make something like that for other people. That’s who you are. You want to inspire people like people who have inspired you."

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “I know. But I’m… I don’t know if I…”

“I’ve seen you capture Pearl on a page, and I can see all her determination and all her fear at the same time,” he whispered. “I’ve seen you draw your dad as a superhero, with a goofy flashlight and a big smile, because that’s who he was when you were small. You… You drew me, Connie.”

His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks as he took a shuddering breath. “You drew me the way you love me. It was just me, sleepy in our RV, and I looked peaceful and happy and I was looking outside and… and I could feel the way I love our stupid little rock. I was human and not human and I loved it, Connie. You made me feel so much.”

“I know, Steven. I know you feel the things I make but…” She whimpered, the tears he hadn’t seen before finally rolling. “What if I'm not good enough? What if I reach for Kansas and burn out halfway there?"

Steven hugged her tight, and let her bury her face in his shoulder. They were all alone up there, softly rustling trees holing them up from the terrifying landscape ahead. But there were such beautiful things below, pressed into the pages of Connie’s sketchbook, and it was time to face them all.

“I’ll pick you up.” His face buried in her hair, thoughts of their families fresh in his mind, and there was only one thing to promise, "I'll drive you home. And we'll all love you anyway."

#jamweek #steven universe #connverse #connie maheswaran #su fanfic

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clericbyers · 5 years

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[mike’s side of the walkie conversation]

Mike didn’t expect Will to call him via his walkie talkie, but when he heard a familiar voice say, “I meant to tell you earlier,” he immediately grabbed the device, tripping over his bike as he made it his priority to answer Will’s call.

“Will? Will, is that you?” he gasped, clinging onto the device as if it was his lifeline. In a way, it sort of was, what with the way pure sadness and longing was crushing his chest until tears sprung in his dry eyes.

“Mike,” came through a host of static and relief flooded Mike’s heart. “Mike, can you hear me?”

“Barely,” he chuckled, legs suddenly weak so he sat down on the curb outside his house to let his emotions wash over him. “You said you wanted to tell me something?”

It took a moment for Will to speak up, but when he did, Mike only caught the beginning before static stole the rest. “I’m in…”

“Wait,” he said even though waiting would only make their distance larger and in turn, make this call even harder to understand, “you’re breaking up on me; you’re in what?”

“I wanted to say…and I should have told…so scared…with El and now I’m leaving…I’m in love…stupidly in love with you.”

Mike could not breathe. His hands were clammy, fingers shaking as his grip on the walkie tightened until it started to hurt. He didn’t stop, unable to collect his thoughts as Will’s words swam through his head. Stupidly in love with you. Oh. Mike felt his heart thump erratically in his chest as his vision began to blur. This couldn’t be real. There was no way possible…no way life could be in his favor this much for Will to like him–no, not even like him, love him. Mike barely even knew what he felt toward Will, but hearing those words practically cemented for him that he loved Will, too. It was always Will, wasn’t it? And he should have told Will sooner too if he hadn’t been so obsessed with trying to deny that fact.

“I think I love you, too,” Mike started hesitantly, far less brave than Will to commit to the emotion even though he knew it was true. “I know I said I love El but I couldn’t even say it to her back. But you always get the best from me because I care a lot. You were the first person who loved me for me and I can’t keep acting like that doesn’t mean something.”

“Mike, Mike…you mean…saying?”

Mike grit his teeth and rubbed at his face. God, he really should have bucked up and said something before Will left. He needed to stop being scared of his feelings and let himself love as he wanted but it was so scary to be so vulnerable as to love someone as he loved Will. “I can’t keep lying about this and I know I’m breaking up on you but I’m sorry it took so long to realize this.” Mike squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I love her but not like I love you. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done. You always have been, understand?”

“I can barely hear…static; I don’t…understand.”

“I’m sorry, Will, I didn’t mean to hurt you and if I realized sooner then maybe you and I could,” Mike blushed and brought the reciever to his mouth so he could whisper, “be together. It’s my fault, okay? Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad…,” and even though the rest of the sentence was lost to distance, Mike felt soothed by the fact that at least he knew Will wasn’t mad at him for taking so long to accept his feelings.

“I don’t want to be the reason why you’re upset. I want to make you happy; you were my first friend and I don’t want to lose that, okay? It’s just,” Mike made an incoherent noise in the back of his throat, “I’m scared. I’m so scared of these changes and it’s stupid and I know I’m rambling, sorry about that, and I need to get this through to you despite the static but I don’t know if it’s working. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to hate me for liking you. Fuck, Will,” Mike could feel the tears threatening to spill over, “I’m so relieved.”

“Mike?”

And the clarity of his voice there, tinged with emotion and uncertainty, made Mike smile a little as he wiped at his eyes. “You’re breaking up so much but I hope you got the important parts.”

“Nothing you said made sense, Mike, just say it really quickly.”

Shit. “Oh, well, I like you, too but not the same like as in liking bananas I mean like as in I love you because I do. A lot.” Mike laughed lightly to himself, ignoring the bush on his cheeks from the admission. “I’m sorry that I took so long to tell you but now you know. I’m so glad you know.”

Mike waited for a response but listened to nothing but static for about half a minute before accepting that Will was probably out of range. He sat on the curb for a few minutes longer, replaying Will’s words in his head as a smile slipped onto his lips. His heart was thumping crazily in his chest and a small part of him wanted to squeal like a kid about how his feelings were very much reciprocated. When Will arrived at his new home, Mike would have to call him and hash out the details about what exactly they were going to do about their shared feelings but in the meantime, Mike leaned back on his hands, stared up into the fall sun, and smiled with the knowledge that his love, no matter the distance between them, was very much returned.

#yams writes #i decided a separate post would be easier than a reblog #so here u are #is it more tragic that mike is happy while will is sobbing #idk anyway...mike did confess in turn bc im not THAT mean

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 4 years

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I Think It Might Be Time to Give Up on AHS

Quarantine can be a harsh and unpredictable mistress. One minute it’s stroking your nether-regions with promises of the chance to catch up on all those Netflx series you’ve been meaning to watch, the next it’s pissing in your face because you actually tried to watch them. Or, to put it in a less roundabout way, I recently watched AHS: Apocalypse on Netflix (because Lockdown) and it wasn’t very good. I’d go so far as to describe it as fucking woeful.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re not in the same territory as AHS: Cult which blundered through a lazy, message-mongering plot devoid of both likeable characters and much-needed supernatural elements. That was a torrent of acidic xenomorph urine to the face. In comparison, Apocalypse is an anaemic dripple of bunny piddle. It’s not so much a discordant offence against the eyes and ears as it is a continual, deflationary hum of disappointment.

Things start off very promisingly, with a bunch of middling-to-loathesome survivors of a nuclear war hunkered down in a bunker modelled on the Edwardian era under the aegis of a technophobic, prudish sociopath and a lassie who later turns out to be a literal fucking robot. Then The Man In Charge- a dude named Michael Langdon who’s possessed of otherworldly, nightmarish powers- shows up and starts a selection process by which some- but not all- the survivors will be chosen to go on surviving and ultimately build a new world. After three episodes of this tasty, high-camp nonsense, however, things grind to a screeching halt and we get a seven-epsiode-long prequel explaining how this situation came about and how the witches from Season Three have been planning to undo it all along. Hot tip writers: don’t offer me ‘AHS does Fallout’ only to withdraw at the last minute and blow your load on a rambling, incoherent race-against-time plot that belongs somewhere in the late ‘90s. If I wanted to watch people I barely care about stage a last ditch attempt to save the world from a stupidly implausible threat, I’d rewatch ‘Deep Impact’ or ‘The Core’. At least those had a fucking budget.

And yes, I did say ‘stupidly implausible’. I know what you’re thinking: the spectre of nuclear war is horrifyingly plausible. But AHS isn’t content with bombs dropped because humans are shit. Instead, it turns out Michael Langdon engineered the whole situation because (drum roll please), he’s the anti-christ. That’s right: this is one of those fictions that takes the deeply-held religious beliefs and fears of quite a lot of people and misappropriates them so that it can concoct an excuse for its antagonist poncing around with my haircut and powers that it’s too lazy to explain properly.

There’s a weird subplot about Michael being helped to power by warlocks because they’re discriminated against by witches and reckon he can net them the upper hand. AHS: Apocalypse doesn’t actually have the balls to commit to its own gender-inverted struggle-for-equality plotline though, so within a couple of episodes, the warlocks are reduced to caricatures of sexist, chauvinist ass-hats so that nobody has to question or feel bad about the witches’ own particular brand of bastardry. Now, all gender-flipping in fiction is stupid, so there’s an argument to be made that backing out of that plotline was emminently sensible. However, the reality is it shouldn’t have been raised in the first place, since it turns the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD into a tawdry, boring battle of the sexes. The seemingly all-encompassing stakes are reduced the squalid realm of half-baked, poorly-understood television gender politics and it becomes impossible to care what happens to anyone, even the witches.

Speaking of the witches... weren’t these characters nuanced, suprisingly likeable portraits of realistic people with hopes and dreams and faults and failings back in AHS: Coven? ‘Cause I seem to remember liking them in that, but this time round they’re flattened, poorly-scripted and kinda self-righteous.

Here’s a tip, writers: when you bad guy’s literally the anti-Christ, it’s important that your good guys don’t come off as even bigger tools. It’s jarring and weird to be watching a show about scrappy anti-heroes fighting the embodiment of evil and not care if they live or fucking die. The stakes alone should put one firmly on their side, because we all understand that The Fate Of The World trumps any personal dislikes or ambivalence. You have to be writing really fucking badly to make your audience actively not give a shit. And while we’re on the subject, Michael shouldn’t come off as cool-as-fuck half the time and lost-and-weepy-and-damaged (and therefore sympathetic) the rest of the time. If you’re going to say he’s the anti-Christ, make him as terrifying and unrelatable as that title implies. If you’re going to pilfer actual religious beliefs for your camp, silly horror TV series, at least commit to them. I know Good Omens got away with this shit, but the reason that Good Omens got away with this shit ws because a) it was substantially more lighthearted in tone and handled its material with an impish creative dexterity and b) was clearly offering a whimsical hypothetical deconstruction of theological ideas, not a grandiose staging of them in a fictional space. There’s a huge difference.

So that’s AHS: Apocalypse. Simultaneously anaemic and offensively dumb. I remember how AHS: Freak Show managed to make a sinister, narcisistic freakshow owner loveable, a murderous, deformed clown charming and a tantrumming rich kid genuinely menacing in service of its gloriously convoluted plot. Did the writers from back then just die in a freak orgy-related accident or something? ‘Cause if so, it’s definitely time to get off the bus that is AHS before it crashes into a pond.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #ahs: apocalypse #American Horror Story #American Horror Story Apocalypse

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jawnjendes · 5 years

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the truth hurts but secrets kill | shawn mendes

chapter 8/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: lol the taglist didnt work on my last chapter so if you havent read but i’ll show you my teeth pls do eet. anyways this chapter is an angsty buildup full of angst. my specialty.

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

"Where do you live?" Annalise asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Do you even think she's capable of answering?" Patrick said, his arm supporting Alessia's waist as he helped her stumble down the university road.

The Lyft to campus went without any major issue. Alessia did not puke in the car, she merely leaned against the door in the backseat. Annalise had gotten annoyingly chatty with the driver, talking about childhood trauma and the inevitability of death. She claimed it was practice for when she's a real therapist, though the driver was trying to focus on the road. Patrick left the driver a generous tip through the app.

The three of them were left just close enough to the dorms, but there was still a walk to be had, and it felt like it was taking centuries with how much Alessia slowed them down. Annalise kept looking around at the dark surroundings as they paced with her pocket knife in hand. Alessia mumbled something incoherent, her head lolling from side to side.

"I've never heard of that building, where is it?" Annalise asked her.

"Dude, you're gonna have to take her back to your place," Patrick told her. "I don't even think she knows her own name."

With a reluctant sigh, Annalise closed her pocket knife and wrapped her arm around the smaller girl's waist. They were approaching the corner where she and Patrick would typically part ways. Alessia noticed the shift and leaned all her weight into Annalise, mumbling under her rancid breath. It wasn't her first time babysitting a drunk toddler, but that doesn't mean she likes doing it.

Patrick was kind enough to walk the two girls up to Annalise's dorm. Alessia was swaying ominously in the elevator, like she wanted to be cradled like a baby. She was definitely ready for bed.

"Ya casi, mi vida," Annalise said as they stumbled down the third floor corridor.

"Why do you call her that?" Patrick asked. "’Me veeda.’ Isn't that what you would call your boyfriend?"

"It's the same thing as a waitress would call you sweetie or something," she replied. "Or the way you'd talk to a toddler. A drunk one."

She managed to pull her key from her back pocket and give it to Patrick. He unlocked the appropriate door, and the three of them were met with more people and more loud music.

Apparently, Stella hadn't planned on staying alone this Saturday night. She was on the armchair, with Camila squished in right next to her. They weren't alone, either. Shawn and Brian were on the couch, each holding a beer. All four of them stared at the two goths holding the short normie up on two feet.

"Oh my god, you're right on time!" Stella exclaimed. "Shawn's working on an EP! He's giving a us a preview! And he made another duet with Camila!"

"Este guey se puso peda," Annalise said with mild snark, gesturing to the girl on her arm. "I'm gonna put her down."

"You're gonna kill her?" Patrick asked, his blue eyes wide. "Damn, I didn't know you hated her that much!"

"Shut up, I brought her here, didn't I?"

She did not look at the guests on the couch as she carefully led Alessia to her bedroom. She ignored Patrick starting up a conversation with everyone. She had things to do, and it was hard enough with her fluffy mind racing.

"There we go, my dear," she said as she sat the intoxicated girl on the bed. "Acuestate, mija. Tomorrow's gonna suck, but you can rest now."

She patted Alessia's head before moving to take off her sneakers. Then, Annalise took her phone from her jacket pocket and plugged it into the charger on then nightstand. Before she could sigh in relief that they all made it back alive, she heard a voice at the door.

"Hey, you."

When Annalise turned to face him, it was like a million fireworks went off at once. Her entire body froze in the best way, and the air in her lungs was knocked out of her. He's even prettier in person.

"Someone have too much fun?" he asked, nodding towards the now sleeping Alessia.

Annalise could not tear her eyes away from his face long enough to think of an answer. All she wanted to do was stare at him for the rest of eternity.

Then, Patrick came up from behind Shawn, an amused grin on his face. "Bro, she's high as a kite right now."

Shawn looked confused for a moment and then turned to him. "Ann doesn't smoke."

"She used to all the fucking time last year." Patrick was still grinning. "She wanted to have fun tonight, so I gave her a hit of my pen."

"So you drugged her up, eh?"

"Bro-"

"I'm not your bro. Don't you care about her health at all? Don't you remember she was in the hospital a couple of months ago?"

The grin faded. "I care about her and her freedom. Not that I have to explain that to you." Patrick excused himself.

Annalise heard every word, but her wide eyes were still on Shawn. She was stepping towards him before she even realized, and then her arms were going around his middle. He was still warm and soft and he smelled good. It was like personified crack. Annalise smiled as her head rested on his chest. "I love you, my baby."

Shawn hesitated, but he hugged her back. "Love you too." Then he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"The couch." Annalise's fingers were gripping the back of his t-shirt.

"You sure? Wouldn't you rather come stay with me? I'm leaving soon anyway."

Annalise giggled so much her voice squeaked. But she frowned almost instantly. "Don't be like Chad."

"Who's Chad?"

"No one important. I think sober Annalise is gonna be mad at you."

"What? Why?"

She pointed to the sleeping girl on the bed. "That one told high Annalise some things. Sober Annalise might not even remember, but if she does, she'll probably talk to you on check in day. Like, actual talking this time."

"Why can't we talk now?" Shawn asked. "I think high-you will be more understanding than sober-you."

"High Annalise is stupidly in love with you. We'll get nowhere, my dear."

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he gazed down at her. "Yeah, you always call me cute names when you're on drugs. Like that time in the hospital. And all those times you got high with me. Oh wait…" he trailed off. "Every time I asked you to smoke with me you said you didn't trust me enough. But tonight you trusted somebody else, eh?"

She giggled. "I knew you'd be mad at me too. We have much to talk about, baby boy."

In theory, the reason for Alessia's disappearance the following morning would be that she remembered the tea she spilled upon waking up and now she wanted to avoid the wrath of the goth girlfriend. In reality, she wouldn't be entirely wrong.

Even after sleeping for twelve hours, Annalise couldn't get those bits of forbidden information out of her head. She had dreams about catching Shawn and Alessia having really loud sex, but she woke up to hear her roommate doing exactly that. Then, she had a recurring dream of Shawn admitting to cheating on her, except this time he had twelve versions of Henry the orange tabby surrounding him. The last dream she remembered having was one where she ended up back in the hospital, and that she was given no anesthesia for her surgery. She had her stomach removed, and she watched every drop of blood and guts come out of the gaping hole in her body.

She woke with a start after every one of these vivid dreams. Maybe it was the after effects of being stoned, but she felt uneasy for that whole day. She typically binged to her heart's content, but the hospital dream was still on her mind. She allowed herself to have a Lunchables, but not much else.

Then, Monday rolled around and Annalise found it difficult to act like a person. She got out of bed, had an unsatisfying breakfast. She did it, and that's the only thing that matters right? Screw all the other feelings. The paranoia she felt after the Abnormal Psych lecture about eating disorders doesn't matter. The impending embarrassing discomfort from sitting alone at a table in Bio Lab doesn't matter either. Who cares about the sad ache in her chest after seeing Shawn and Alessia leave their class together? Who cares if they're still in high spirits even though they knew that Annalise knew? Who cares?

Annalise doesn't, that's for damn sure. She was perfectly fine. She pushed herself out of bed today even though she wanted nothing more than to induce a coma on herself. Who cares if she still felt shitty after?

Although, she was putting off the impending chat with Shawn until check in on Saturday. He had to know it was coming, why else would he just stop texting her?

Unless he's already with Alessia, and therefore playing me like a violin. Maybe Shawn was just ignoring me to make me go crazy.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Annalise whispered as she put on her headphones. She was glad she caught herself slipping, she didn't want the wide-eyed crazies on display as she walked out of the Social Studies building.

Her steps were slower and more careful as she picked a song to play from her phone. After settling for Halsey, she pulled out her black, round sunglasses and put them on. Gotta hide them nightmare eyes.

Maybe… perhaps… I need to check in earlier than normal?

"Don't be stupid," she told herself.

It wouldn't hurt though, would it? Maybe he would be happy to see me since I would be breaking my own rule. Unless, of course, he's hanging around Alessia again. Perhaps he doesn't care anymore.

The only solution Annalise had was to dump herself on the couch in the dorm and play Tetris 99 until the thoughts and feelings sorted themselves out.

When Stella came home, she knew the drill. She sat on the couch and ranted about her day. She rambled on about her fascist history professor and the lack of a GSA club on campus. Then, she mentioned a Halloween party coming up at one of the frat houses, and that she needed a hot costume.

It was the month where Annalise and all her spooky darkness was socially acceptable, and she couldn't even be excited about it. A different type of darkness was taking over, and it was stupid that it was over a boy. Why did she have to be so dramatic? Why was she so goddamn crazy?

"I'll pick your costume," she said over Stella's rambling.

She paused, her brilliant hazel eyes wide. To say she was surprised that Annalise cracked so fast would be an understatement. But she smiled. "Would you? Ooo, can I pick yours?"

"Ah, I don't think I'm gonna do anything for Halloween this year."

"What? But it's your favorite holiday! You need to come to this party with me! Buddy system, remember?"

"Is that the only reason-"

"Of course not, you dummy! We haven't spent enough time together since the semester started! Let's go find some costumes, yeah? I'll even let you dress me up as scary as you want!"

Stella's a good friend. Annalise should really try harder to spend time with her. Why didn't she try to be a good friend in return?

They went to the local costume store that Friday. It gave Annalise a wonderful excuse to not go to the gaming club meeting. She really did not want to reflect on the Bart adventure, or see just how bad she fucked up Chad's nose.

After returning to campus with a dark but still cute witch costume, Stella was summoned to Camila's dorm. She thanked Annalise for the lovely costume choice and practically abandoned her. Annalise couldn't find it in her to really care. It was only a few more hours until Saturday.

She had barely settled herself on the couch when her phone buzzed. For the first time this week, Shawn had texted her. Annalise held her phone up, staring blankly at the screen. Her heart should be pounding right now, shouldn't it?

"Hey, I know check in is tomorrow but I can't make it at our usual time. I have a gig tomorrow night. You should come and we can talk after."

The next text was the address to the lounge he would be performing at.

Any other time, Annalise would have been happy to know Shawn was performing again. But he cancelled on her, knowing that he was in trouble. Is that what it took for him to start booking shows again? Was this just an elaborate way to avoid Annalise? Perhaps this was just some form of reverse psychology so she wouldn't go to the gig.

You can't psych out a psychology major. Of course Annalise was going to this gig.

However, she had a mostly sleepless night, really unable to shake the fact that Shawn was probably avoiding her. When she finally did sleep, she slept too much. Annalise woke up in the afternoon and was late for work. She had planned to ask if she could leave early, but she didn't dare try anything now. The gig was at eight, when her shift ended. She ended up going to the lounge in her work uniform, a button up with the dealership name on, and baggy slacks. Not exactly the sexy outfit she had planned during the late hours of insomnia.

The show had already started by the time she got there. As she was showing her ID to the bouncer, she heard Shawn's voice over the mic, and she felt something for the first time in days. Her stomach felt tight as she slowly stepped into the lounge.

The turnout was decent. Every single table and bar stool was occupied, and all eyes were on the band performing on the stage. Annalise looked around for any empty space; She wasn't dressed her best but she did want to be anywhere but against the wall opposite the stage. Her eyes spotted the group of people standing directly in front of the stage.

It was the normal group of girls who swooned every time Shawn blinked, but there were also three other girls that Annalise knew all too well. They were jumping and singing along to Lost in Japan, not a single care in the world. Annalise wondered why Stella didn't tell her that she was going to this event, but the way she looked at Camila as they sang to each other said enough. Maybe they chose Alessia to be their new third wheel too. So Alessia was too embarrassed to face Annalise, but not Shawn?

Annalise always stood in the back of every one of Shawn's shows, knowing she would stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of the usual fangirls. Not that that's a bad thing, it just wasn't her usual place to be. She figured that showing up at all would be enough.

Perhaps Shawn already had enough. Three of his friends were already cheering him on, and surely he had more of them scattered in the audience. Not to mention, the people here that didn't know him were going to adore him by the end of the night. Besides, Shawn most likely invited her as a ploy to get her to turn it down. She wasn't needed here. Annalise chewed the inside of her lip as she back up towards the exit. She stepped outside, away from the people trying to get in, and she pulled her phone out. She composed a new text:

"Hey, I'm drowning in work so I won't make it to your show. I'll meet you at your place later so we can talk🖤"

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @ruinhoney @someoneunimportantxx @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #yaint ready for the next chapter lol #im not even ready #it was so draining to write omg

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asarahworld-writes · 4 years

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A ZOMBIES Christmas Chapter 4

Zed picked at the cheesecake, making small talk with the surrounding cousins, his free hand holding Addison’s. Never in his life did he think he’d be here – fairly popular in integrated school, having dinner with his human girlfriend’s family, playing football and it being a casual dinnertime conversation.

Maybe he should have known, or at least suspected, that there was still a chance that things could turn south. But, despite everything, Zed was an optimist. Dinner had gone well. Dessert had been smooth. He’d gotten along with Addison’s relatives. And Addison had been free to be herself, wig-free, all night.

“EVERYONE GET BACK! ZOMBIE!”

Zed instinctively jumped back as Mr. Buchanan crept closer, knocking over the stacked folding chairs leaning against the couch. “Mr. Buchanan, I’ve been here all night. I came with Addison,” he ducked as the older man wildly swung in his general direction, eyes shining.

“You stay away from my granddaughter, rotter!”

Zed’s mind was racing, his incoherent thoughts rambling through how to reconnect with Mr. Buchanan as a person, and not the monstrous zombiephobe currently in front of him. He wasn’t sure what had happened to suddenly polarize Mr. Buchanan into seeing him as a zombie and not Addison’s boyfriend. Try as he might, there was nothing he could say that would change the old man’s mind. The cheer championship as a revolution had only affected so many humans in Seabrook – the entire town was a cheerleading town, they liked to win, and the zombies hadn’t won cheer. They had won football, but cheer was the top sport and they had lost. He was irrevocably and deeply in love with Addison, but he wasn’t being seen as a person. He was a monster. At the end of the day, he was still the same sort of monster whom had eaten the older man’s ear.

Addison threw herself between her boyfriend and her grandfather. “I wasn’t going to come tonight, exactly because of this. I’d thought, pretty stupidly looking back, that maybe if we were both here, nobody would say anything to our faces. Because it’s not like anybody in this family has ever been supportive of me being who I am. But maybe if I had Zed, if I had the one person in this town, the whole world, who supported and loved me unconditionally, it might not be so bad.”

“Even a freak like you is still human, Addison,” Mr. Buchanan said quietly.

Addison scoffed. “You just threatened my boyfriend, who has been nothing but a perfectly wonderful guest at our Christmas dinner, for no reason except that he’s different. Well, we’re all different. Zed is quite possibly the kindest and sweetest person I’ve ever met. He’s my boyfriend, he’s a zombie, and I love him. I’ve got freaky white hair. I’m still human, but even that has always been enough for my own family to turn against me. If we were all honest with each, I bet everyone in this room has something they’ve been hiding from the rest of the family!” She exhaled harshly, running a hand through her hair. “Zed’s not the only monster in this house.”

With that, Addison took Zed by the hand and shakily lead him back to the kitchen. She pulled him down into a tight embrace, sinking onto the linoleum floor. “I am so sorry about him,” she murmured. Zed could hear her voice thicken with emotion, could smell her mind spiking with adrenaline.

“It’s not your fault.” He wished there was something he could say to make her feel better. Of course, it always stung whenever he heard people saying things about zombieism, but he had learned to roll with it over the past fifteen years. Sometimes, most times, it was easier to simply walk away. “Do you want to go?”

Addison laughed hollowly, though there was no real malice present. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

Zed shrugged. “They’re your family.”

There was a light tap on the door and Zed looked up to see one of Addison’s cousins standing in the doorway.

“What do you want, Brandon?” Addison asked him bitterly, glancing at him before turning back to her boyfriend.

“Grandpa’s mostly calmed down now… I’m sorry.” His apology, though genuine, was futile as he was not responsible for his grandfather’s behaviour. “I think the people most upset right now are Aunt Missy and Uncle Dale. They always were more obsessed with perfection…. Except maybe Mom and Dad with Bucky’s cheer stuff.”

Addison was quiet, silently considering the sincerity of her cousin’s statement. Zed was quiet, too, wondering what the next best thing to do would be. This was exactly the sort of situation that his father had been worried about when he’d made his offer to come out and take them home early.

“Zed,” the zombie looked up as Brandon addressed him by name, “I’ll drive you back to Zombietown myself if you want to leave. I can’t say anything for the rest of the family, and frankly right now I don’t really want to, but I wouldn’t blame you if you guys left early.”

“Uh, thanks.” Zed got up from the floor, offering Addison his hand and helping her up. No matter what happened next, they would still have to go back and face her family before leaving, whether that was at the natural conclusion of Christmas dinner or bailing early with Brandon or calling Zevon. However, Zed had no idea what that would be. Despite everything, he was still just a kid who had wanted to spend the holiday with his girlfriend.

Zed’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the time on Addison’s watch. “Shit,” he cursed lowly, heartrate accelerating to near-human levels. “I gotta go. Brandon, I can honestly say it was a pleasure to meet you. Addy, thank your parents again for the invitation. Mayor Missy’s cooking was wonderful, as always.” Addison checked the time, immediately understanding why Zed had hurriedly changed the topic.

Dale entered the kitchen just as his daughter and her boyfriend ran out.

“What’s going on in here?” He asked Brandon, a little too casually to be entirely sincere.

“Addy and Zed are leaving,” Brandon said bluntly. “It’s nearly curfew and I’m surprised they stuck around this long, to be honest.” He caught sight of his cousin and the zombie carefully walking down the stairs to the door. “Uncle Dale, I’d thought things were changing here. Tell my parents I’m leaving. Or don’t. I don’t think it would make a difference. See you next Christmas.”

Brandon left his uncle spluttering by himself in the kitchen and started his car, slowly starting towards Zombietown. He had caught up to his cousin in less than a minute. “You kids want a ride?”

“Won’t Aunt Becky be seriously mad at you?” Addison hesitated.

Brandon laughed. “It’s not like I live there, Addy. She can be as pissed as she likes. Doesn’t affect my life. Where do you kids want to go?” He unlocked the doors. He watched his cousin looking at her boyfriend – how her whole face softened as she met his eyes, how they clasped hands as soon as they were settled in the backseat.

Home. But the associated imagery had nothing to do with the house they had just left.

“The barrier,” she said simply.

“I’m not dropping you kids off in the middle of the street.” Brandon rolled his eyes. “What’s your address, Zed?”

Had any other human asked, Zed would have never answered. But this was the one member of Addison’s family who hadn’t been afraid to treat both of them as regular people. Zed had begun to trust the human.

“Z-224a. Right at the end of the last road, by the wall.” He saw the curtains in Eliza’s window flutter closed as Brandon’s car approached. It’d be fine.

Brandon pulled up along the driveway, headlights briefly illuminating the block before he killed the engine.

“Where are you going to go?” Addison asked, still strapped into the backseat. Zed drew his hand back from where he had reached for the door handle, not having considered what Addison’s cousin would do after leaving Christmas dinner.

“Home. Away from Seabrook, away from our family.”

“Isn’t that, like, two and a half hours?”

“Four. We moved upstate to Syracuse a few years back for Quinn’s university. Med biotech – basically a clinical medical lab technician. Lots of testing.”

“Quinn. I haven’t heard about Quinn, before,” Addison looked at her cousin curiously. “There’s usually some ‘news’ about you whenever Mom and Aunt Becky gossip on the phone. Not that Mom would ever call it gossip. She’s ‘sharing in her sister’s concern for her eldest son’.” Addison rolled her eyes.

“Believe me, my mother has no clue that Quinn even exists.” Brandon turned around to face them, his knee tucked awkwardly under the gearshift. “If she did, nobody would ever hear the end of it. In hushed whispers, of course, but still.”

“I get it,” Addison twirled a strand of her hair. “I’ve thought about leaving, but…” Her eyes drifted over to Zed. Out the window, she saw the light strands flicker out. “Hey, I think your dad knows we’re back.”

Zed glanced out the window. “Yeah.”

“Not to make things weird, but I should probably go home. Can’t exactly go back to Syracuse with you, Brandon. Normally if I need to get away for the night, I’d go see Bree but since it’s Christmas…”

“You can stay here,” Zed quickly offered, before blanching. “One of us on the couch, obviously. I’ll give you one of my hoodies…if I have any left,” he grinned.

“You know, this would probably be the part where I should say something, but I think you kids are more responsible than most of the adults in the family. Especially since you’re not going to be alone.” Brandon unlocked the doors.

“We should go,” Addison caught her cousin’s eye. “If Brandon’s going home, he’s got a long drive ahead of him. Thank you so much.”

There was a pause. “Yeah,” Brandon said finally. “Stay in touch, Addy.” Addison nodded, giving her cousin a quick, one-armed hug from the backseat.

Zed waved his hand as he ducked out of the car, stretching. “Let’s get inside.” He took Addison’s hand as they walked to the door, quickly and quietly unlocking it. They toed out of their shoes, creeping up the stairs to Zed’s room. Zed grabbed a couple pairs of sweats and tee shirts, leaving one on the bed for Addison as he went into the bathroom. He knocked lightly a few minutes later, and Addison opened the door.

“I brought you one of Zoey’s hair ties,” he murmured. “Thought you might want to tie your hair back.”

Addison smiled tiredly. “Thanks.” Instead of passing her the hair tie, Zed sat on the bed behind her and quickly braided her hair into a short plait. When he had finished, Addison leaned back against his chest for a moment before she got up. Zed watched as she walked over to the chair on the other side of the room, picking up the quilt and pillow.

“Hey, you’re sleeping here. I’ll take the couch,” Zed took the bedding from his girlfriend, knowing that she would protest.

“Zed,” Addison started, but Zed shook his head.

“I’ll see you in the morning, gorgeous.” Zed leaned against the doorframe, watching as she thought about pressing. They were both exhausted from their eventful night.

“Gar gar ga za,” she walked over and hugged him.

“Yeah. I gar gar ga za you, too. Grodge garzeep,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

“Grodge garzeep,” she repeated sleepily, watching as he left. She waited until she heard him settle on the couch before pulling back the sheets. Everything smelled like Zed, and she pulled the sheet tighter, sighing happily. There would be consequences to deal with in the morning, but right now, they were together and they were safe.

#zeddison #a zombies christmas #zombies #disney zombies #christmas in april...

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years

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Whumptober #3 Delerium - Bungou Stray Dogs

(Read the first part: “Explosion” here) Nothing changed over the next couple of hours. Piles upon piles of rubbles were moved from one end of the room to the other, still not revealing an obvious way out. They were all alternating on keeping an eye on Dazai and digging, whenever fatigue struck them. Kunikida went back and forth between shoveling dirt and checking on the bandage-wasting idiot, winching when he realized how grim the situation was turning.

Dazai had been nodding off and became more and more sluggish as time went by, having a harder time staying lucid and awake. They were worried that soon, he wouldn't be able to wake up again by himself. Still, he kept fighting whoever dared trying to touch his wound. At this moment, it was actually the best way they had of keeping him alert. The pale skin of the injured man had a feverish blush to it, glazed over by a thin layer of fever induced sweat and small tremors prickled all over his body. He was burning up with a fever while freezing cold from the effects of it. Kyouka strolled over to them with a soft smile. “Here you go,” Kyouka said pleasantly, and placed the thin red fabric of her kimono over Dazai's trembling form, settling with wearing her yellow tights and a white undershirt. She stroked a comforting, dirt-covered hand over the usual soft locks of Dazai's hair, that was now sticking to his face in tangled knots. Reluctantly, Dazai accepted the cover but seemed to be scowling at it every time Kyouka turned her attention away from him. When it was time for Atsushi to take over again, he finally let go of what was on his mind. “Atsushi,” he croaked weakly and grasped at the boy's arm with flimsy fingers. The light-haired kid turned towards him with a reassuring smile. “I'm here.” “Listen, I... I know how this is going to sound, but...” Dazai stated tiredly. Atsushi shifted uncomfortably. Dazai was staring half-lidded at the red cloth that had been draped over him. “You'll be okay. The shard is blocking the bleeding. As long as it stays in, you're not gonna bleed to death anytime soon...” “-I need a different blanket,” Dazai interrupted determened. In his surprise, Atsushi shot his head towards the fatigued figure in front of him and blinked a couple of times, trying to decide if he had heard that right or not. So, Dazai decided he needed to elaborate. “I know it doesn't make any sense, but... this blanket is full of alien technology.”

Atsushi didn't know how to answer that. “I know,” Dazai sighed sleepily, “just, I'm gonna need a different blanket.” Luckily, Kunikida was close by and heard Dazai's feebled rambling. With a bland expression, he trailed over to them and picked up Kyouka's red kimono and turned it inside out before tucking it back over Dazai. “Better?” he asked vacantly and watched as Dazai's lips turned into a half-smile and he settled into the warmth of the clothing and relaxed. Atsushi's scrunched eyebrows told Kunikida that the boy had never experienced a delirious Dazai before, and felt the need to explain.

“This happens once in a while when he gets particularly feverish. I guess he's a bit of a closeted conspiracy theorist,” Kunikida shrugged.

Atsushi, still severly confused, nodded hesitantly. “Oh.” “Yeah, just... take whatever you hear with a grain of salt, okay? It's an utter mess of ramblings and there really is no way of knowing if anything he says has any footing, in reality, understand?” Something about Kunikida's tone sounded off to Atsushi. As if, he didn't really believe what he was saying himself. As if it was some kind of warning. So, he nodded and figured he would understand what Kunikida meant soon enough.

And that, he did.

OoO

The next thirty minutes or so consisted of incoherent ramblings about anything from the “mind-control planes in the sky” to “lizard people? Tsk, we have a tiger-boy!” Atsushi couldn't help but feel a sliver of pride at being mentioned in Dazai's fever-dream. But soon, the sometimes humourous slurrs became more ominous. It started out as breathy whimpers and apologies. Some of them were directed at people in the agency, other's were people Atsushi knew worked for the Port Mafia, and there were a lot of names he had never heard before in his entire life. Especially one seemed to reoccur.

“Oda? ...Oda, it's so dark,” Dazai moaned painfully. His voice nearly cracked from frailty. “I want... I want...” It was clearly hard for him to get any sound out at this point. Atsushi worried, feeling Dazai's boiling hot forehead with the inside of his wrist, winching at the high temperature. Maybe it was time to get Kunikida...

“...to come with you, please. Let me go with you.” Atsushi felt the grip Dazai had on his hand tighten. Atsushi held tightly too, hoping it would reassure Dazai that he wasn't alone. Still, Atsushi wasn't sure if he should be happy or heartbroken when he saw the smile this brought to his elder's lips. “I knew you'd come back for me,” Dazai whispered. Just as he said that, Tanizaki turned up behind them. “Hey,” he greeted, making Atsushi jump in surprise. “Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you,” the redhead apologized, smiling uncomfortably. Atsushi breathed out, calming his nerves. “It's fine,” he started, but Dazai suddenly let go of his hand and reach for Tanizaki instead. The two boys exchanged looks, before turning their attention on Dazai. “Odasauk?” Dazai asked carefully, with a hint of impatience. Blurry, unseeing eyes peered up at Tanizaki, who stood dumbly and looked back at him.

“I'm not-” Tanizaki started, but Atsushi quickly shut him up. “Where is he gonna take you, Dazai-san?” he asked calmly, kneeling by his mentor's side. “And who is he?”

“Oda is the good guy,” Dazai answered easily. “He's gonna bring me into the light with him.” Yeah, it was definitely time to call for Kunikida. “Kunikida-san!” Atsushi yelled, probably a bit more desperately than strictly necessary, but it did the trick. Kunikida was sprinting over as soon as the calling registered in his hearing.

“What?” he sneered, immediately hovering over Dazai. “I don't think he knows where he is,” Atsushi explained. “And he doesn't recognize Tanizaki.” “Oda,” Dazai mumbled. Nobody knew if it was a coincidence or a correction.

Kunikida seemed calm, and Atsushi got the suspicion that it wasn't the first time he'd seen something like this. After a short moment, Kunikida turned to Tanizaki.

“Junichiro-kun,” he started. He had an idea and waited for Tanizaki to look at him before he said anything else. “See if you can get him to show you the wound.” Tanizaki looked queasy. “I'm no good with blood,” he croaked pleadingly. “Tough luck,” Kunikida shrugged cooly. “You're not removing the metal or anything. I just want to see what it looks like. We have to make sure that it doesn't get infected. I would also like to tie something around it to quelch what's still bleeding and protect it from all this dust.” Tanizaki wined quietly but turned back to face Dazai. He was just laying there, looking up at him with something that looked like awe in those tired half-lidded eyes. “I'm Oda..?” Tanizaki asked stupidly, frowning at himself. “Yeah,” Dazai smiled feebly. He was so out of it, Kunikida was sure anyone from the office could have posed as this Oda. But as far as he'd seen, Dazai had never mistaken any of them for that man in the past. Maybe Tanizaki looked like him or at least had some prominent feature in common with the man Dazai would only ever talk about when completely incoherent.

“So, can I look at the wound? You got hurt, remember?” Dazai made a grimace. Yeah he knew, t'was kinda hard to forget when it was still stuck in your intestines. Reluctantly, he agreed to Tanizaki's suggestion. “Make sure to comfort him!” Kunikida mouthed, over-exaggerating every syllable for the teenager to understand. “Uh, g-good job,” Tanizaki muttered nerviously while he carefully tried to open the rest of the shirt. After fidgeting with the buttons, he figured it would have to do and started to lift his under-shirt. Dazai shifted agonizingly. The dried blood was tugging at the wound, and Dazai moaned hoarsely. “Oda-san used to be so careful,” he gasped miserably. “S-sorry, I guess I'm out of practice,” Tanizika tried. Dazai only sulked but didn't resist when he continued working, carefully releasing the shirt from the wound. Kunikida watched restlessly, wanting to take over and do it himself. “One more, okay? It's almost loose,” Tanizaki instructed, and pulled the t-shirt off the metallic piece spearing Dazai's side, only to uncover layers upon layers of neatly placed, blood-soaked bandages. He looked wearily to Dazai, who was panting heavily after the swift tug that probably had torn off some scab from the gash. “I need to remove some of these, is that okay?” he asked tryingly, but Dazai wouldn't answer. So instead, he looked questioningly to Kunikida and Atsushi. Both men motioned that they didn't know, so he decided to take a chance and take them off.

When removing the bandages, two things became very clear. First of all, there was more bandage than he first had anticipated. It seemed never-ending, covering at least 85% of his upper body. The second thing was that the bandages were not decorative, as he had heard many people hypothesize.

This new injury would only be another gash in a jungle of various older and newer scars, in every shape and form, that anyone could imagine. “Tanizaki, what's going on?” he heard Atsushi ask from behind. Kunikida and Atsushi lingered in the back, trying to give Dazai the space he needed, and to not invade the privacy he so clearly demanded at a time like this.

Tanizaki didn't answer. He didn't know what to say, what to feel, what to do. All he really knew was that somebody had hurt Dazai, and he... ...needed to get up and away so he wouldn't throw up all over him.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself when, to his surprise, all he could get out was a small sob. He hid his mouth under his hands, hopfully stifling the sound as he got up on shaky knees, unsteadily walking a couple of feet away and let his stomach contents spill out onto the concrete floor. Atsushi was right behind him, offering a supportive hand on his shoulder while he hurled, and, at least, kinda shieling him from the overbearing grief his younger sister had about his sickness. The sight of Dazai's mangled torso would haunt him for a long, long time. He already knew that and all the bile in the world couldn't flush that memory away. “Are you okay?” Atsushi asked in conserne, patting his back steadily and looking at him with worried eyes. Tanizaki shook his head vigorously. “That's not right,” he uttered hoarsely. In denial. He shook his head insistingly. “Did you know?” he inquired, grabbing onto Atsushi's shirt. “Know what?” the silver-haired boy asked bewildered. Maybe he knew? How was he supposed to know if he didn't elaborate??

“About the scars!” Tanizaki exclaimed, ignoring everyone else around. Because fuck it. Dazai wasn't all right.

They had all though that Dazai's supposed pain, the suicide attempts, the bad habits, heavy bandaging, and unwillingness to take care of himself was just a show, but no, no no no. It was not. It was a distraction. Fuck, he felt so guilty.

And Atsushi didn't look like he understood a thing. Good.

Tanizaki turned around and saw Kunikida leaning carefully over the unmoving body of Osamu Dazai.

He had his back turned. Tanizaki couldn't see his face. He could see his arms though. The way he moved gingerly, almost affectionately. Atsushi didn't know. But Kunikida did.

He probably knew more than any of them. The two teenagers watched their team leader work effectively on Dazai. They had been able to talk for a little bit, exchanging information and different things they had heared- from Dazai that day, rumours or whenever people had some sort of slip about him. They knew they were still far off, but felt like they had puzzled some pieces together.

About twenty minutes later, their injured coworker was all covered back up, and Tanizaki and Atsushi finally dared to move closer and ask how he was doing.

“He'll be fine,” Kunikida huffed, and tried wiping off some dried blood off his hands. “The shard didn't hit anything vital. It probably did cause some damage to his intestines though, so surgery will probably be necessary. Right now, there really isn't much we can do about that, except getting the hell out of here.”

“B-but, what about...” Atsushi wasn't sure just how to ask. He hoped Kunikida would just read his mind so he didn't have to say it out loud.

“What about what?” Something about the way Kunikida asked, almost seemed challenging. As if, he dared him to say anything about it, and Atsushi realized that maybe, he shouldn’t say anything at all. Because he remembered, that Kunikida knew.

Knew about the scars. Probably knew a whole lot about what had happened already. Knew who this Oda was. Finally, he recalled that something Kunikida had told him, now several hours ago and finally understood what he meant. The truth was, most of them had probably seen many (if not all the) different sides of Dazai. Then, Kunikida, or someone else, would be there to assure them that Dazai was just talking nonsense. They actually wanted them all to just ignore it- didn’t they? And now, everybody went around, knowing bits and pieces about their coworker and ignoring it entirely. For Dazai. Because Dazai couldn't handle it when he was all there.

It took another hour for them to get out of there. Yosano was already waiting outside with a make-shift ambulance, having noticed that the mission was taking too much time and that something probably had gone awry.

Dazai was quickly ushered onto a gurney and rushed to a civilian hospital. The bloodloss was too big, and the surgery was too extensive for Yosano to handle in the infirmary all by herself.

The days slowly switched back to normal. Within a week, Dazai was out of the hospital, walking slowly and seemingly in a lot of pain, but was back at the office and pretending like nothing ever happened. He was currently residing on a couch in the back of the office, napping lazily while listening to music. At this point, Atsushi understood the gist of things. They were all walking around and pretending that nothing happened- like they hadn't seen the horrendous scars on his body, or heard the pain in his voice when he asked for this Oda- ignore the love and hope in his eyes when he thought Tanizaki was this person and had come there to take him away.

And now, everything was back, just the way it was. Atsushi was sure Tanizaki hadn't known anything before the day at the construction site. He was fairly new to the agency too. He just wondered how many times Kunikida had done that same schpiel now.

What would happen if Dazai realized how much they knew? … Nothing good.

Atsushi decided that maybe, just maybe, the delirium hadn't exactly been the hallucinations back then. Maybe the Delerium was whatever was going on right now. The End

First of all:

The alien technology in the blanket-thing is actually based pretty accurately on true events. My boyfriend and some of his friends went on a trip around Europe this summer and one of his buddies got severe food poisoning. He assured them that he knew how stupid it sounded and that it didn't make any sense even too him, but he really just needed a different blanket because of the alien technology in the one that he already had.

Secondly: I might revisit this. I’m not all the way satisfied with it, and that’s the issue with trying to follow a day-to-day event. Also, I’ve been sick as a dog. I think I’m just gonna say this; I can’t promise daily updates (because I have some pride in my work, and I want to tell a good story). But I can promise that I’ll try my best. And I’m gonna post something about every single prompt, and try my best to not fall too far behind. Thank you all of reading!

#whumptober2019 #whumptober day 3 #no.3 #delerium #part 2 of 2 #bungou stray dogs #injured dazai #doppo kunikida #protective kunikida #atsushi nakajima #junichirou tanizaki

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lhs3020b · 5 years

Text

Boris And the Baddest of Bad Weeks

I promised an expanded entry on what’s going on at the moment in our national meltdown, so here it is...

Allow me, if I may, to walk back an earlier comment of mine. Some time ago, I was distinctly skeptical about the idea of an early general election. However, the situation has evolved. You see, there was one thing I didn't count on. I never imagined that Boris Johnson would be stupid enough to force nearly two dozen of his MPs out of his party.

That's right: I over-estimated his intelligence. Umm, whoops.

In my defence, what he did may well have been the single most utterly-stupidly self-defeating maneuver ever in British politics. The only sense I can make from it is that he's having a narcisistic breakdown. Actually, viewed in that very narrow light, perhaps it does make a little sense. If you've ever had the misfortune to have a narcissist in your life, you'll be aware that the thing they just can't cope with is any sort of rejection. The "no"-word tends to summon a meltdown - and of course BoJo faced a pretty major series of "nopes" from Parliament this week.

The other thing I didn't count on was that apparently yes, there actually are some things that some Tory MPs just won't do, even if the consequences of Not Doing The Thing runs to damaging their personal careers. This did come as a surprise to me - I'd assumed that blind partisanship and the desire for salaries would ultimately trump - or perhaps, Trump - all other concerns. But no, credit where it's due, it turns out that for at least 21 of them, there was a floor on the greed after all. Admittedly it's taken us three years of accelerating chaos to find it, but it was there.

The next factor that I didn't count on was that the opposition parties got their act together. Bluntly, there was no hint of this over the summer. The speed with which it happened has left me a little dazed. The earlier failure to call a Vote of No Confidence, the weird shenanigens over ludicrous Governments-of-National-Unity, the generalised infighting and chronic myopia ... just two weeks ago, it was not looking good. I was basically starting to quietly accept that we on the pro-Remain side were finally defeated, and worst of all, we'd been defeated mainly by our own allies.

Then the prorogue happened.

It's fair to say that it's already backfired. The obvious cynicism of the strategy, the naked contempt for all the institutions of British government, the sheer gall of it all - it was meant to energise the pro-Brexit crowd. Instead, it appears to have driven everyone on the soft-Brexit/pro-Remain aisle into a state of thermonuclear rage. And if there's one thing that can bring unlikely allies together, it's a common enemy. By pursuing his grandiose "oh look at me being so Brexity!" cock-strutting routine, Boris accidentally made himself into exactly that enemy.

The other factor was that the prorogue has imposed a sharp time-limit. Consequently, Continuity!Remain just doesn't have the luxury of descending into factional infighting. The deep irony is that putting us on a tight deadline has actually helped us. It's imposed a focus that just wasn't there even 10 days ago.

Meanwhile, as for the wider country, well, Boris's walk-about up north yesterday seems to have been a complete disaster. Random people were basically coming up to him to tell him that it had all gone wrong. Then there was that bizarre speech he gave in front of a captive audience of police recruits. It was just weird - proper delusion territory, and entirely-incoherent. I'd like to compare it to Trump, but at least Trump can manage a consistent theme. Johnson was just rambling. There was nothing there, except possibly a desperate plea for attention. A lot of the political journalists I follow are openly-speculating about whether BoJo was on drugs during the speech.

(And wouldn't that be the ultimate post-2016 banter-timeline twist? If the Prime Minister - the Prime Minister! - got busted for snorting crack?)

Meanwhile, BoJo's narc-meltdown has accidentally undone Theresa May's one significant achievement.

Contrary to what many people think, Theresa May did manage to thread one single needle. That was, she (mostly) managed to keep the parliamentary Conservative Party together. Granted a few MPs jumped ship to Change UK earlier in the year, but it stayed in single digits. There was no big split - and, significantly, the Change UK crowd got wet feet about no-confidencing her. The advantage of this was that Theresa May avoided having the Tories fall into what we might call the 1922 Trap. Here's what I mean by that: in the late 19th Century, the old Liberal Party was increasingly-split on the issue of Home Rule for Ireland. The tensions only got worse as time went on. Then Asquith went and delivered the First World War and precious little else of value. (He was notably-slimey on votes for women, and seemed uninterested in doing anything about the property qualification that 40% of men still faced. The cynic might note that Nick Clegg's behaviour is not entirely new.) Lloyd George tried to put the party back on its feet, but the damage was done. During the 1920s, the Liberals were openly-split. At elections, Liberals ran against each other in numerous constituencies. Because of the way first-past-the-post voting works, in practise this meant that Tories or Labour got elected instead. (A constituency has - say - 46% of the vote for any Liberal candidate, but two run. Each of them gets 23% of the vote. A.N. Other Party takes 24% and gets the MP's seat.)

Theresa May's political strategy - yes, she actually did have one - was predicated on avoiding having Tories run against other Tories at elections. Given their divisions, it was a narrow needle, but she mostly managed to thread it. Boris Johnson has gone and exploded that. You see, of the 21 MPs he's sacked from the party, several are saying they'll contest the next election as independents.

It's hard to know just how big a problem the 1922 Trap will be - but, their vote is already split with the Brexit Party. And even the most optimistic opinion polls have the Tories around 10pts down on where they were in 2017. They're already in minority in the House - how many votes can they afford to lose, really?

Meanwhile, there's a further problem. The Tories' drift to the political right may have taken them too far. They assume that their friends at the Times, the Sun, the Telegraph and the BBC can plaster over the cracks for them - but, can they? The media was full-throated for May in 2017, and she still lost her majority. The newspapers are hysterical and shriekier than ever - but, who reads them? I can't remember the last time I bought a physical copy of one of the main papers. I suspect that's true of many other people too. There are signs that the socially-liberal/financially-conservative chunk of voters are starting to decamp to the Lib Dems. Again, it's not clear how big this movement is - but, as I said earlier, how many votes can the Tories afford to lose? It's possible that they could be facing the nightmare scenario of a general election where the right-wing vote is split three ways (four, if you count UKIP's still-slightly-tembling corpse, though they're close to a rounding error now). If the next election was still certain to be in 2022, all this would be somewhat academic. Two and a half years is a long time, they could find a way to turn things around. All things being equal, I expect they would.

But then BoJo had his narc meltdown, didn't he?

The so-called government is now in absolute minority in the House. While their opponents can't currently agree on an alternative prime minister, nonetheless the anti-BoJo grouping now has a majority of 43. They can stop him doing anything. No legislation is going to go through this house. Finance bills are basically dead on arrival. I really can't see how he could pass any kind of Budget. And also, if he does anything at all to irritate the Opposition, they can no-confidence him any time they feel like it. Quite simply, he's on death row.

My guess is that they'll leave him be during the prorogue period. The logic here is obvious enough - let him twist in the wind. He's doing a great job of destroying himself, so let him get on with it. This way, when Parliament returns late in October, they can do the deed and it will look like a mercy-killing rather than a gang-land execution.

Hypothetically, there are four ways Boris could get off the hook:

1) He could resign. This would arguably save him some dignity, and just perhaps it might leave a little room to revive his future career. But, he won’t take this option. He’s a narc. They don’t voluntarily quit. (Plus, uh, much as I’d cackle if he was forced to quit, it just leaves his successor with the same set of problems that he failed to address.)

2) He could try to simply ignore the anti-hard Brexit law. The problem here is, it would give the opposition a prima facie grounds for an immediate Motion of No Confidence. He might get some love from the rightwing press, but the ultimate result would presumably be his removal and a new Prime Minister. It would be the most pointless constitutional crisis ever.

3) He could arrange to lose a motion of no confidence in his own government. This would arguably be constitutional, and might be a way to trigger an early election. But, it would a) look utterly-absurd, b) be an unprecedented thing to do and c) would also require him personally to face the House telling him to fuck off. I’m not sure that a narc is capable of that. Also, there’s the issue that, as we saw in 2017, there’s no guarantee that he could win a general election. I’m absolutely not sanguine about the risks of an early GE but a) that’s democracy and b) if he runs his campaign the way he’s running being PM then he could well end up roasted.

4) He could reverse the prorogue. On the one hand, un-proroguing Parliament would buy him some extra legislative time. On the other hand, his opponents have control of the House, and a wobble on the prorogue would make him look weak. There’s not much upside for him here, though it’s the most “conventional” of the four options.

Basically the TL;DR is that while he has some choices, none of them are good and all of them could cause him considerable personal pain. The opposition have set up a proper four-pronged Morton’s Fork for him. Which tine will he impale himself on?

As for Brexit? Well, one interesting detail is that the underlying political question seems to be open again. It hasn't quite gained mainstream traction yet, but apparently people are starting to ask whether Brexit is going to happen at all. The Labour Party's position has moved visibly toward hard-Remain, albeit grudgingly. The Lib Dems are having their time in the sun again (though, I suspect that glomming up Philip Lee may help them less than they seem to hope). I don't know that I think it's going to happen, but I can now imagine a situation where at the end of October, the anti-BoJo constellation No-Confidences him then pushes a quick revocation bill through Parliament. (The "party line" here would be, "We wanted a second referendum but this man's scheming hasn't left us enough time.") Again, not saying this is at all likely, but I think it is now a possible outcome.

And if nothing else, BoJo's supposed golden hour is turning out to be quite the nightmarish turkey - and isn't that just delicious?

#diary of a disaster #UK internal politics #Boris's bad bad no good week #hahahahaha

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alittlebugsheadx · 6 years

Text

Home

117: ‘I just like to know you’re safe. What are you going to do? Sue me?’

——

Time: 7pm

“I got in! I got in!” She squealed over the phone.

“Oh my God! That’s insane! I knew it though. I’m so so proud of you! We have to celebrate.”

She continued squealing in incoherent phrases as he chuckled on the other end. When she had calmed down she asked, “So when do you think you’ll get here?”

“Well, my flights in 4 hours and the flight’s only 2 hours so probably 1am. I’m sorry it’s not sooner, I wish I was there with you now.”

“Me too, but it’s okay! I’ll see you later then. I’ll come to pick you up at the airport, just text me when you land. Can’t wait. I’m going out with the girls now.”

“Alright, enjoy, love,” he replied.

“Thanks. Okay, love you, bye!”

“Love you too,” he grinned to himself.

Damn. Harvard Law. Wow. That’s just Betty being Betty.

***

Time: 9pm

Betty was enjoying herself, being out with the girls. Veronica always made sure Betty had a great time too. She was always looking out for her like that, it made Betty anxious about how she would be without her, in Boston.

She’d get by. She’s Betty Cooper, of course.

But it wouldn’t necessarily be easy.

And Cheryl always knew how to scare off the predators. You know, the guys who stay sober and wriggle their way when they see a vulnerable, drunk girl drinking by herself, on the verge of sobbing.

And Toni always made sure they didn’t do too many stupid things. Or too many stupid guys, rather.

Betty was going to miss them all, everyone really, the whole town.

But she was going to miss Jughead the most.

***

Time: 11pm

“So, Betts, Betty, B, what are you going to do about Jughead? Because come on, you’re going to Boston! There’s going to be so many cute guys! You don’t want to be unavailable, do you?” Cheryl persisted.

“Noo, Cher, she lovesss him.” Toni interjected.

“That’s right,” Betty nodded, half-unaware of the conversation.

“Right. Of course. You love him. But I love designer handbags, doesn’t mean I need to date only one of them whilst there’s a whole selection to be viewed. Wait. That would be pretty cool, you know dating handbags.” Veronica rambled on.

“What?”

“She said she wants to get it with a handbag, focus Betty.”

“Again, what?”

Veronica sighed, daydreaming of only God knows what, as Cheryl and Toni started making out.

Betty checked her phone for a text message from him.

J:About to board. Love you babe!

She replied, B: Lov youu two!

J:You alright? Or are you drunk texting me ;)

B: Me? I fine, how abouut you

J: I’m good thank you. Excited to see you. You sure everything is alright though?

B: Yessss omg

J: I just like to know you’re safe

She sat there, grinning at her phone stupidly.

J: What are you going to do?

J: Sue me?

She chuckled before replying, B: Haha you’re funny

J:I know I am

B: Anyway, I was thinking we order from your favourite Chinese place when you get home?

J: Sounds great :D

J: Oh and by the way, Betty, we’ll make Boston work

J: You know, the whole long-distance thing

J:Besides, I only have to be here for 2 more months and then...

B: I know we will :)

B:?

J:I can apply for the Boston role, I’m sure James will give it to me, he owes me anyway

B:Really?

J:Really :)

B:Awh! I can’t wait!!!

J: Me too

B:You sure though?

J:100%

J:Anywhere’s home when I’m with you

J:Better go though

B:I love love love you!

B:Okay have a safe flight, babe Xxxx

J: I love you too ;)

Still smiling, she shoved her phone back into her purse and took another round of shots with Veronica.

***

Time: 1am

No text from Jughead.

Maybe they took longer to board than he had anticipated.

***

Time: 1:27

No text from Jughead.

Maybe he didn’t have any service. Maybe his phone died.

***

Time: 2am

Betty stood at the gate, confused. There was a lot of commotion but no one was getting any answers.

***

Time: 2:38

Betty couldn’t sleep, even though the airport staff had suggested she and other waiters should, in the seating area.

***

Time: 3am

No text from Jughead.

Maybe he had missed his flight...

***

Time: 3:14

No text from Jughead.

Only a low-volume news report on a nearby television screen, announcing a crash of two aeroplanes that had somehow come onto the same path....

One coming from JFK...

Jughead was coming from JFK.

Betty’s stomach dropped. She feared the worst.

***

Time: 3:16

Her suspicions were confirmed.

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xpyladeivre · 6 years

Text

Title: Give My Regards to Bill Denbrough Ship: Stenbrough (background Reddie, Benverly, Mike/Surprise Character) Word Count: 4,335 Inspo: @grownups-are-the-real-monsters gave me the song No More Lonely Nights by Paul McCartney and this is the product of that!

ALSO READ ON AO3

It’s prom night and Stanley Uris is home alone, nose buried in a book and the TV playing some infomercial about a new kitchen gadget. After re-reading the same paragraph for the umpteenth time, he sighs and slides the bookmark back in place before setting it down next to him.

He wasn’t left by himself deliberately. But Ben had asked Bev, Richie asked Eddie, Mike asked his lab partner (a pretty nice guy named Will), and Bill got asked by some girl in his English class.

All of them had dates. He didn’t. It only made sense that he wouldn’t bother spending money on a dance where his friends would be too busy enjoying the night with other people.

So, on the biggest night of a teen’s high school life, Stanley Uris lay sprawled on his couch, counting the ticks of the clock’s second hand or going through the list of birds he’d seen that month. It wasn’t the most exciting thing to do, but it kept his mind occupied and that was all he needed.

It’s when the ticking becomes maddening and the list ends that his thoughts wander to dangerous territory.

Stan thinks back to the beginning of the night. He thinks about Bill’s fumbling with his tie before Stan laughed at him and took the matter into his own hands. He thinks about how his fingers trembled the slightest bit as he tied the black silk because the proximity was too much; he could smell cologne and something indescribable but distinctly Bill.

He stubbornly tries to avoid thoughts about how handsome Bill looked in his suit or the blinding smile he’d given him before driving off to pick up his date.

“Nice one, Stanley. Crushing on your straight best friend,” he says aloud to himself to drown out the sound of his heart breaking all over again. It was ridiculous, harboring a three-year unrequited love for someone so important to him and never doing a single thing about it. But they were graduating soon and that was where their paths diverted.

Bill would find success in his writing because he was passionate and talented and Stan loves hearing the stories he weaves out of thin air.

Stan would stick to the expectations his parents set for him because plans kept him sane, made him feel secure, and he knew he could easily get caught up in Bill’s whirlwind of a presence.

It scared him a little bit.

The thought of not having Bill as a constant in his life anymore brings tears to his eyes and before he knows it, his cheeks are wet. His body is shaking with choked back sobs as his hands cover his face. The intensity of his emotions buzz in his ears so loudly that he doesn’t hear the knocking on his front door until it becomes louder and more persistent.

“Stan!”

He sits up, still sniffling, and stares at the door. Great, he’s hallucinating Bill’s voice now. Using his sleeves to wipe away his tears and, with slight hesitation, the snot dripping from his nose, he freezes when he hears Bill shout again.

“Stan! Are you home?”

He scrubs at his face again as if it would magically erase any evidence of his breakdown and tries to calm his breathing. It takes a few seconds before he decides that he’s strong enough to face whatever’s banging on his door.

(Because he refuses to believe it’s Bill. Stupidly beautiful Bill who’s having the time of his life at prom with a pretty girl that’s nothing like him.)

His red-rimmed eyes lock with Bill’s concerned gaze and he quickly looks away, unable to deal with the way his emotions flare up whenever he’s reminded of how much Bill does care for him.

(Because he knows that Bill cares and that Bill loves him, but not in the way Stan did and he wasn’t sure if that hurt more than Bill not caring at all.)

“Are yuh-you o-okay, Stuh-Stan?”

“What are you doing here, Bill? Did your date get tired of the dance?” He pointedly ignores the question and falls a little bit more in love when Bill doesn’t push for him to answer.

“N-no. S-Stacy’s still duh-dancing. But s-suh-something felt wr-wruh-wrong and I w-w-wuh-wanted to make sure yuh-you w-w-weren’t hurt.”

Stan listens patiently as Bill stumbles over the W’s and fights back the blush threatening to color his cheeks at the fact that Bill left the dance for him. He left his date behind because what? Fate decided to play a cruel joke and tell Bill that he was hurting? That he was aching for the chance to be in Stacy’s place, in Bill’s arms as they swayed to the beat of some song he didn’t know but Bill probably did because he was more attentive to music than Stan was.

“Thanks for the concern, Billiam, but I’m fine. Just numbing my mind with some pointless TV,” he jokes, hoping his small smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels.

He waits for Bill to bring up the remnants of dried up tears or to leave now that Stan’s gave him some kind of reassurance.

What he doesn’t expect to happen is for Bill pull him out onto the porch and, oh, how the hell did he not notice the music softly playing from the boom box by Bill’s feet?

Bill, with one hand still holding onto Stan’s wrist, reaches down to move the boom box so it’s not taking up as much space. Stan’s skin is burning, not just where Bill is touching, and the heat seems to have dried his throat because he can’t speak, only watch Bill turn up the volume.

No more lonely nights No more lonely nights

He didn’t recognize the song, of course, but he could vaguely pinpoint the singer. It was one that he knew Bill liked listening to on more than one occasion.

“Bill, wha-“

He can’t finish his sentence because suddenly Bill’s holding onto both of Stan’s wrists and placing them gingerly on his shoulders. His hands settle on Stan’s waist and Stan unconsciously laces his fingers behind Bill’s head.

He knows that his face must be aflame and he’s awkward as he tries to concentrate on moving with Bill. It becomes impossible to think straight because he’s hit again with that indescribable scent and how warm he is despite the cool breeze that’s ruffles their hair. So he lets Bill lead, swaying and spinning to the beat.

You’re my guiding light Day or night I’m always there

“What are you doing, Bill?” Stan asks, voice barely above a whisper. He’s afraid of the answer he’s going to get, but he needs to know before he digs himself into a deeper hole.

“I don’t know,” Stan’s breath hitches as Bill leans forward, foreheads pressed together and lips mere inches apart, “B-buh-but it f-fuh-feels… right.”

Sparks don’t fly, electricity to shock his system, but when Stan finally dives into the pool of want he’d been dipping his toes into for three years, he feels complete.

They don’t tell the others. Not because they don’t trust them, but Because Bill’s never felt this strongly for someone before and Stan still can’t believe he can cuddle up with the man of his dreams every night.

He’s also not as bold as Richie and Eddie or as strong as Mike. They can stand up to the homophobic slurs and fight back when someone decides to push them around. Stan, on the other hand, flinches when he sees someone from school or when he hears faggot yelled across the street. On those days, it takes lying in bed wrapped around Bill and exchanging lazy kisses to ease the tension from his shoulders.

(Bill doesn’t comment on Stan’s methodic tapping against his chest or how he mumbles incoherently under his breath when he closes his eyes because eventually warm brown looks up at him through long eyelashes and he tightens his arms around his boyfriend.)

They’re pretty sure the others catch on though because after prom night they’re attached at the hip, more so than what they were all used to. When they walk up to their friends huddled up at their booth in Derry’s only diner, they’re openly showing support through bright smiles and twinkling eyes. It throws Stan off kilter for a second and he can feel the familiar claws of insecurity scratching up his back before it’s replaced by the soothing pressure of Bill’s hand.

He relaxes, unknowingly leaning against Bill because he can’t help but gravitate towards his boyfriend, and enjoys the company of his friends.

It’s the best summer he’s had in a while.

And then it all comes crashing down.

Bev got into a college in Chicago and Ben got into one in Wisconsin. They’d already left to settle into their dorms after a teary goodbye from Ben and a good luck punch on the shoulder from Bev. They all got hugs from the both of them.

Richie and Eddie decided to take a gap year. They were going to see what the rest of America had to offer and left in the same manner as Ben and Bev. Eddie wasn’t even reluctant with his hugs. Sure, it was quick but also strong and Stan could still feel the overwhelming platonic love that Eddie never verbally shared.

Mike went with Will to see his family in Indiana before they came back to Derry for college. Stan found them to be a sickeningly sweet couple and the way Will hesitated before Stan pulled him into a hug only accentuated that fact.

With all their friends now out of Maine, Stan’s the only one at the airport to see Bill off. He still had a few days before he needed to head down to Atlanta.

“Don’t let the jetlag hit you too bad and please don’t come back with an accent. Stuttering Bill’s going to become British Bill when Richie gets wind of it. And—“

Bill cuts him off with a soft, closed mouth kiss. He smiles into it and can feel Bill’s lips curling up in response.

“Rambling again?” Stan asks when Bill pulls back, his hands still cupping Stan’s face and his thumb gently swiping across his cheek.

“Ruh-rambling again, b-babe. Besides, I d-don’t th-thu-think an accent and st-stuh-stutter mix.”

“I don’t know, might sound kind of cute.”

He knows it’s a cheesy thing to say but the chuckle that it elicits from Bill is worth it. The PA system crackles to life as a voice announces the boarding of Bill’s plane. Stan mimics Bill’s stance, bringing his hands up to grab his boyfriend’s face and pull him into a fierce kiss.

He closes his eyes and hopes it’ll stop the tears threatening to fall. When he moves back, forehead pressed against Bill’s and eyes wide open, he can’t help but let out a watery laugh.

“Don’t cry, please. I’m going to start crying.”

Bill, with tears clinging onto his eyelashes and lips quivering, simply smiles and leans in. Before their lips could touch, the PA system booms and they both know it’s time to let go. Bill drops his hands and holds onto the handle of his suitcase, his other hand hiking his carry-on higher onto his shoulder. Stan drops his hands seconds after and hides them behind his back so Bill doesn’t see the crescent shapes he’s carving into his palm.

(The sting helps him control the wave of sadness washing over him and he knows Bill would be on his ass about it. It’d ruin their goodbye, taint the moment that would get him through months without waking up next to Bill, so of course he hides it.)

He watches Bill walk away and it hurts seeing the silhouette of his boyfriend starting to fade. The shout escapes his throat before he even realizes it.

“Bill!”

Bill turns slightly, looking over at his shoulder, and Stan doesn’t need to be able to see him clearly to know that he’s got a questioning eyebrow raised.

“I—“ love you gets caught between his teeth and Stan doesn’t think he can choke it out. They’d never said those three words to each other, not even before they were dating, because they just knew. They felt the pleasant platonic love when they’d become best friends and they’d felt the burning romantic love when they’d kiss for the umpteenth time.

It’s the next step for them. But something’s tugging at the back of Stan’s mind and telling him that that step’s not meant to be taken when Bill’s about to spend years an ocean away from him.

So he doesn’t say it.

“Call me when you land!”

It’s enough.

---

On his way back to his car, he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls out, still walking and only half aware of his surroundings. It would suck if a car decided to come zooming towards him now.

From Billiam: check ur glove compartment

Stan practically flies into his car after he reads the text. He tosses his phone into the passenger before he fumbles with opening the glove compartment. It’s stuck, the gear stick is jabbing into his side, and he’s muttering curses when finally, it opens and something falls out onto the floor.

He quickly leans down to grab it and comfortably settles into the driver seat before properly looking at it.

The object nearly drops to the floor yet again when Stan’s hands start to shake.

It’s a cassette with Bill’s messy scrawl on the label.

“For when you miss me,” Stan reads it aloud, voice soft with awe and raw with varying emotions. It doesn’t take him long to slam the car door shut and shove the cassette into the player. There’s static for a moment before the music starts and the Stan’s so surprised he forgets how to breath.

I can wait another day Until I call you

It’s their song. From prom night. And Bill’s singing. There’s no stutter, his voice is silvery and smooth. Stan is melting into his seat; the tears he’d been holding back before now freely flowing. It’s hard to send a text as his vision is blurred, but he manages to send two.

To Billiam: Thanks for the warning asshole. To Billiam: I miss you already.

Stan sets his phone back in the passenger seat. No need to anxiously wait for a reply, the plane would’ve taken off by then.

Instead he closes his eyes and dreams of lithe arms around him as they swayed to the beat.

Long distance proves to be as difficult as Stan thought it would be.

They manage to last for two years.

Two years of continuous calls and texts and, in the very early stages of their long distance relationship, visits from Bill or vice versa. After that, the calls stop and the texts are sparse or filled with sorry, can’t talk right now.

Stan knows it’s because Bill’s busy with school and having a breakthrough with the novel he’s been working on. He knows because that was Bill’s reason for missing a call or texting late. Stan can’t even blame him. He’s been busy trying to stay at the top of his classes and doing his duties as both president of the bird watching club (they often went on little expeditions out of state) and vice president of the student union.

He listens to the cassette religiously, often falling asleep to Bill’s voice as if it were a personalized lullaby (perhaps it was). But then there’s two months of little contact that turns into six months and then Stan’s phone is on the ground because it slipped from his hands. There’s a haunted expression on his face.

We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.

That’s it. He had no other way to contact Bill except through letters and he didn’t have time in his schedule to send those anymore. He stares blankly at the wall, body numb and a sour taste in his mouth. He wants to scream, break things, cry until his eyes dried out.

But most of all, he wanted Bill and of course, even with his heart shattered it still yearned for the best person he ever had the pleasure of knowing.

He doesn’t know what to do, so his brain does a factory reset.

He follows the plan laid out by his parents.

And he keeps the cassette hidden away in the back of his closet.

DERRY HIGH SCHOOL REUNION CLASS OF ‘93

Stan looks up at the banner with scrutiny. These things are supposed to happen in ten years, but Derry’s always been an odd, little town. It doesn’t surprise him that they’ve decided to hold it five years later instead.

What was he doing here?

Dances weren’t his thing. The reminder makes him want to turn around, ready to go back to his hotel and finish his book, when an arm is thrown around his shoulder.

“Stan the man! Is that a mustache?” Before he knows it, Richie Tozier is in front of him, fingers wiggling in front of his face. Stan scoffs and slaps his hand away, the corners of his lips curling up in a fond smile. He hadn’t really kept in touch with any of his friends. Sometimes he’d get a postcard from Richie and Eddie about their latest hot spot or a letter from Ben about what him and Bev were up to. Mike and Will liked to call from time to time.

But it wasn’t consistent and with Richie in his arms, giving him a hug reminiscent of when they’d split all those years ago, the longing to be with his friends again hit him like a train wreck. It hurt and he’s grateful that Richie keeps his mouth shut when Stan clutches a little too tightly to his shirt.

They eventually break apart and Richie’s tugging at his arm.

“C’mon, Stanny, gotta get this show on the road! My darling Eddie spaghetti’s waiting for me inside.”

“If Eddie’s inside, what are you doing out here? I don’t think I saw him walk passed me?”

“Smoke break.”

Stan rolls his eyes and he opens his mouth to tell him how bad smoking is when someone else steals the words right from him.

“Smoking kills, Rich, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t go together with Eddie’s asthma.”

He knows that voice. He used to follow it blindly, wake up to it, fall asleep to it. But there’s no stutter, so maybe he’s wrong.

He focuses on the way Richie exaggeratingly squints before throwing his hands up in the air and his suspicions are confirmed.

“Billy Bob my boy! Good to see ya partner,” he says in a thick, southern accent and tipping an imaginary hat, “Eds’ free of asthma now so I can puff ‘til I’m coughing my lungs up.”

Stan can’t bring himself to turn around and he hopes Richie doesn’t notice the way he tenses up when Bill’s laughter rings in his ears. It’s as he remembered it only deeper, more mature, and that drives a knife into his heart.

It’s been two years since that fateful day in his dorm room. He still hears the robotic voice telling him the number was disconnected, he remembers all the lovers he left after a few days because they didn’t trace patterns on the back of his hand when he was feeling especially anxious or they didn’t stumble over W’s and S’s.

He’d learned to stop comparing everyone to Bill but with the man only a few feet behind him, the wound fresh. As if it was just yesterday that he’d been cut off by someone who he could’ve called the love of his life.

He’s so lost in memories that he doesn’t notice Richie leaving and Bill taking his place.

“Stan?”

Bill places a hand on his shoulder and Stan immediately pulls away, putting distance between them. Hurt flashes across Bill’s face and crescent moons are kissing his palms because he can feel anger bubbling within him. What right does Bill have to be hurt when he was the one to cut ties?

“Don’t. You don’t get to touch me, Bill Denbrough.”

“Stan, I—I’m sorry. I got so caught up with finishing my novel without falling behind in my classes and then it got published and there were appearances, interviews, it was overwhelming.” Bill’s talking rapidly, a tactic he found to be sort of useful in not stumbling over letters.

“So overwhelming that you had to disconnect your phone? So overwhelming that you couldn’t be bothered to try contacting me again?” Stan’s dripping venom and it takes all his willpower to not spit out something he knew he’d regret later.

Even now, he aches for Bill to hold him and tell him everything’s okay. But he’s been pissed off for two years and it’s hard to temper it down.

He can see the guilt clear as day in Bill’s eyes and it’s all the answer he needs.

“This conversation is over.”

Stan stomps towards the high school’s front doors, bumping Bill’s shoulder when he does. He ignores Bill’s cries for him to stop and makes it to the top of the steps before there’s a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Stan, w-w-wuh-wait. Please, j-just, l-luh-listen to m-me.”

He curses his damn weakness for Bill’s stutter when he yanks his arm out of Bill’s grip and instead of storming away he turns around, arms dramatically folded across his chest.

Bill gets the hint that he doesn’t want to be touched, but still steps forward, leaving a small amount of distance between him.

“I never st-stuh-stopped th-thinking about y-yuh-you. I—I tried to c-cuh-calling for m-muh-months a-and w-w-wuh-when no one a-answered I knew I sc-scruh-screwed up. I d-duh-didn’t w-wah-want to l-lose you.”

Stan watches as Bill’s face scrunches up and he knows that it’s because Bill’s annoyed with himself, with his stutter, and he softens up a little because this was still his best friend. It always got bad to the point of frustration when he was overly emotional and if Bill was at the same intensity as Stan at the moment, he needed all the reassurance.

Uncrossing his arms, Stan reaches out and places his hands over Bill’s. Just like it was habit for Stan to carve crescents into his skin, Bill would create fists as if he could figuratively punch the words out of his throat.

“I should’ve tried harder too. I was just so upset and heartbroken, I hid away my phone and got a new one along with a new number. Dramatic, I know,” he adds the last part because he can feel Bill’s urge to laugh at his ridiculousness.

“You w-w-were al-wuh-ways a drama queen.”

Stan snorts and let’s go of Bill’s hand to lightly punch him in the shoulder.

“Watch it, Denbrough, or you’re not getting a dance from me.”

There’s still unease in the pit of stomach. He’s afraid for what’ll happen after the night ends. He had just gotten a steady job back in Atlanta and Bill no doubt had a life of his own in London. He knows he won’t be able to handle losing Bill a second time.

But then Bill’s fingers are interlocked with his and he’s smiling that special smile that Stan only ever saw in the comfort of closed doors.

He lets himself be led into Derry High School.

---

The reunion’s in full swing when they get to the gym. Old classmates are mingling, old flames are making out in dark corners, and suddenly Stan feels seventeen again. He feels young, rejuvenated, and scared to death about being beat up for holding his boyfriend’s hand.

(and when did he come to think of Bill as his boyfriend again?)

He’s on the verge of hyperventilating when the song changes to something familiar and there are lips pressed up against his ear, softly singing the lyrics. Once again, he lets Bill place his hands on his shoulders and turn his awkward shuffling into on-beat swaying.

Stan tries to calm down by focusing on the lilt of Bill’s voice.

May I never miss the thrill of being near you And if takes a couple of years To turn your tears to laughter I will do what I feel to be right

He’s only slightly shorter than Bill, but he still leans his head forward so that he was practically snuggling into the crook of Bill’s neck. He’s much more relaxed than he was at the beginning of the night and there’s a tender smile stuck on his face.

“What are we doing, Bill?” He asks and beneath the nostalgia of the question, there’s a seriousness that conveys their obvious need to talk about it.

Bill squeezes Stan’s waist briefly and he understands the silent later that accompanies the gesture.

“I don’t know, but it feels right.”

Tilting his head back up, Stan does a quick scan of the room. Mike’s in charge of music with Will tucked into his side whilst Ben and Bev as well as Richie and Eddie are also on the dance floor, oblivious to anyone but their significant other.

When Stan locks eyes with Bill’s, he knows the feeling.

“You know when you left for London and I said to call me when you land? That’s not what I wanted to say.”

“I figured. I would’ve called without you telling me.”

The song’s coming to an end and their swaying slows down a bit.

Stan stops a breath away from Bill’s lips, their eyes not breaking contact once and Stan questions for a moment why he feared getting lost in them.

“I love you.”

He kisses the I love you too out of Bill’s mouth.

And he’s home.

#stenbrough #stan uris x bill denbrough #stenbrough fic #stenbrough fanfic #arach's writing #stanley uris #bill denbrough #otp: a love that was more than love #i have another stenbrough fic coming @ y'all so look out for that #THIS IS LONGER THAN I EXPECTED W O A H

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jumpingpuddles · 6 years

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This was originally a tangent to this post, but it got stupidly long so I’m putting it in its own post.

Ugh, I think I need a break from the whole online dating thing. It’s only making me feel bad right now, and I’m starting to feel kind of shallow which feels really fucking shitty. I don’t wanna be shallow. I refuse to be.

The thing is most of the guys I’m attracted to irl really aren’t ridiculously attractive. Not at all. A bit cute, sure, but I tend to be wary of “hot” guys. It’s the personality, mainly (I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t give a crap about looks - it’s just not the most important bit), that I find attractive. It’s like online dating me and actual me have completely different preferences.

Take Mr Priest guy, for example. Sure, he was cute, but if he’d showed up on one of the dating apps/websites I use, I probably wouldn’t have looked at him twice. And yet he of all people was the first person in years that made my heart skip a beat, because he was just a wonderfully sweet guy.

And now take Tinder guy (mentioned in the post I linked at the top) as an example. Ridiculously attractive. Period. I suppose it just feels nice to be wanted by someone who could have his pick of girls much prettier than me (I’m not fishing for compliments. Seriously, please don’t tell me I am pretty in response to this. You’re more than welcome to other times, but that’s not what this is about). But am I at all into him as a person? I’m pretty sure I’m not...

Sorry if this is a bit rambly and incoherent... I’m tired.

#I swear I'm not hung up on Mr Priest guy #he's just the most recent guy that actually made me feel something #So it's easy to use him as an example #Elli's adventures in online dating

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littlespoonevan · 7 years

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heey ciara! So i know you already wrote an even proposal but i was wondering maybe you could write something with the boys' reactions to it? like when the boy squad finds out that even proposed and isak said yes obviously. I can't remember if there was a ring but maybe you could add it and the boys would see it and be like "what the heell"?. love your fics

ahh okay so this isn’t actually based on the previous evak proposal I wrote just bc there wasn’t a ring involved and it was kind of spur of the moment so maybe consider this the Official Proposal that follows the Morocco proposal a couple of years later ;) I hope you like it, friend!!!

(I would kindly ask that no one send me prompts while I try to get through all the ones in my inbox, thank you

The thing is, Isak kind of forgets to tell people heand Even are engaged.

It’s not his fault! Even proposed while they wereaway for a long weekend in Trondheim and honestly, once Isak had had the ringon his finger they didn’t really make it past their hotel room door for the followingtwo and a half days. So forgive him if telling people had been the last thingon his list when he was so fucking overcome with love and Even was right there.

Isak’s been in a love drunk haze since Friday nightand getting off the plane now is no exception. He clings giddily to Even’s handand they keep pausing to kiss on their way through arrivals and he’s prettysure the old couple behind them are ready to curse them out if they don’t getmoving but he doesn’t care.

He’s in love.

And he’s engaged.

“Are the boys still coming over for drinks tonight?”Even asks, curling an arm around Isak’s shoulder and tucking him into his sideas they make their way to the exit. They’d been touchy-feely before but they’vebasically been surgically attached at the hip since Friday. Isak revels in it.

“Yeah I think so,” Isak replies, tightening his ownarm around Even’s waist. “Jonas text before we got on the plane to say they’dbring food.”

“Ugh good,” Even groans. “I’m starving and plane foodis shit.”

Isak rolls his eyes but it’s fond – it’s so stupidlyfond. “We were only on the plane for an hour.”

“Isak, if our friends want to bring us greasytake-out food, let them.”

Isak huffs, lifting his free hand to link his fingerswith the hand Even’s got carelessly resting on his shoulder.

Even squeezes tightly when his fingers lock aroundthe cool metal of the ring.

A little over an hour later – after Isak and Evenmaybe had a quickie in the shower when they were supposed to be washing thestench of travel off them – they’re all spread out in Isak and Even’s livingroom, half-empty pizza boxes and bottles of beer between them as Jonas regalesthem with a story of what the guys got up to while Isak and Even were away.

Isak is listening, leaning back against Even andplaying with the label on his beer. He doesn’t realise his left hand is ondisplay until Magnus’ loud squawk interrupts Jonas.

“What the fuck is on your finger?!” he demandsincredulously.

Isak freezes, feeling Even do the same next to him,as his eye travel down to the very visible engagement ring on his finger. …Shit.He kind of forgot they didn’t know yet.

“Is that an engagement ring?” Mahdi asks, calmer butstill completely dumbstruck.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Jonas adds, eyes flickingrapidly between Isak’s hand and his face.

“…So, funny story-“ Isak starts, cringing when allthree boys immediately start yelling over each other and demanding answers.

Isak throws a helpless look at Even but judging byhis wide eyes and slack expression, he also forgot to mention it.

“Oh my god shut up!” Isak calls after a few moreseconds of indecipherable yelling and, surprisingly, the three of them claptheir mouths shut. Isak releases a breath, spares a moment to smile softly atEven, and then looks back to their friends. “Even proposed on Friday. We’reengaged.”

There’s a single moment of silence, and then theyelling descends again.

This time it’s decidedly more happy and Isak can makeout a few “congratulations” amid the boys’ incoherent rambling. The fact thatthey’re tackled into three bear hugs that become one big group hug also suggeststhey’re pleased with the news.

“Fy faen I can’t believe you’re getting married!” Magnus exclaims when he sitsback.

“Have you picked a date yet?” Mahdi asks interestedly.

“More importantly, have you picked your best man?”Jonas cuts, giving Isak a meaningful look and a winning smile.

Isak rolls his eyes, shaking his head and letting outa resigned laugh. “We haven’t decided anything yet. We pretty much spent theentire weekend in bed.”

“Yeah you did!” Magnus cackles far tooenthusiastically, holding a hand up for Even to high five.

Even returns it with a laugh. “Seriously guys, I didn’treally think beyond getting Isak to say yes.”

“Of course he was going to say yes,” Jonas remarksexasperatedly.

“He’s wanted to marry you since kosegruppa, bro,”Mahdi scoffs.

Isak feels himself flush but Even pressing a gigglykiss into his cheek is a pretty good consolation. Still, he turns to the boysand points a threatening finger at each of them. “One more word and you’re alluninvited to the wedding.”

Wisely, they stop talking.

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #boy squad #skam #my fics #asks #Anon #i have to go to work but have this while i'm gone <33 #i'll be back in a few hours!!!

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franklyshipping · 7 years

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A much needed check-up ~ Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

I’m in a strangely productive frame of mind and I’m in LOVE with the idea of Dr. Iplier and Dr. HENRIK VON SCHNEEPLESTEIN working together and having a bit of a dynamic of care and stuff (can be perceived at platonic or romantic and it’s SFW for the CUTENESS) hope yalls enjoy x 😄

A sigh escaped the lips of the exhausted and over caffeinated doctor as he decided to lie on his own medical lounger, relishing in the peace and quiet of the empty consulting room. Dr. Iplier had been working non-stop since 5 am, tending to patient care, putting forward diagnoses and off loading results; not all of them good. He was about to let his eyelids fall when a high-pitched and familiar accented voice accosted his eardrums.

‘IPLIER? IPLIER VHERE ARE YOU?!’

The previously relaxed doctor sighed and smiled with a light grimace at the sound of his colleague and friend Dr. Schneeplestein, his constant energy both astounded and annoyed him at times.

‘I’m in here Schneeple!’

He called out and soon a flash of a white coat swept through his doorway, the neon-green haired man stood fidgeting with a wide grin.

‘Zhere you are my friend! I take it you are finished for ze day?’

Iplier rolled his eyes with a light smile.

'No I’m just lying on my own examination bench for the hell of it.’

He chuckled when Schneeple narrowed his eyes in a light glare.

'Ha ha ha, alvays so funny!’

Iplier felt his grin widening as Schneeple stepped foward, the latter sighed and folded his arms.

'Anyvay, I vos vundering if you vould like to accompany me to haf some vell deserved alchohol, I haf caused many an aneurism today and I need a pick-me up!’

Dr Iplier furrowed his eyebrows, his own arms folding as he spoke confusedly.

'Caused? Don’t you mean cured?’

Schneeplestein waved his hands as he stepped closer.

'Ah zay are ze same thing! So are you in doctor?’

Iplier sighed, he could feel his exhaustion spreading through him and he was well accustomed to how much alcohol Schneeple could intake, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up in his current state. He looked up with a light smile, but it was a smile of sadness and dejectedness.

'Nah, I’m not really in the mood Schneeple…’

Dr. Schneeplestein, for all his questionable medical abilities, could tell that his friend was off and he immediatly went to analyse. It didn’t take him long to see his friend’s exhaustion, and his sadness at his exhaustion. He stepped closer, his concern evident.

'Iplier, vhen vos ze last time you had a proper check-up yourself?’

Iplier sighed, he could see Schneeple’s concern and that only made him feel guilt; he was a doctor, it was his job to worry about others not vice versa. As a result he only shrugged in response.

'Zat decides it, lie back so zat I can check you over-’

'Schneeple there’s really no need…’

Schneeple cut him off by wiggling a disapproving finger and pushing him lightly so he was laying down, Iplier sighed and let him do so since it would probably be over quicker if he co-operated.

'Ah ah ah! Hush now, after all I AM a doctor…so zherefore I know vhat’s best!’

Schneeple chuckled as Iplier groaned at the copying of his words, something that the former did frequently to tease him.

'I said that like one time!’

'Shush now! Schneeple is vorking!’

Iplier pursed his lips as Schneeple grinned lightly, rolling on the appropriate gloves before performing all the standard tests; breathing capabilities, mobility and the like. Now it came to organs and the torso skeletal check, the final thing.

'Raise your arms please.’

Iplier did so as Schneeple rolled his shirt up, he smirked.

'Been vorking out have ve doctor?’

Iplier felt his cheeks heat up lightly as the other chuckled lightly, he turned his head away so he didn’t have to deal with his stupidly teasy face.

'Just get on with it.’

Schneeple chuckled again before moving to feel around Iplier’s ribcage, the owner of which had now bitten his bottom lip since the feeling of Schneeple’s fingers in that spot…well, let’s just say his nerves were heightened. Dr. Schneeplestein noticed this, mainly because he’d been hoping this would be the case; Iplier needed to relax, and now he had the appropriate means.

'You seem qvite tense, is zis spot painful?’

Iplier could only shake his head, for fear of his voice betraying him. Schneeple didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he leant over his friend, poised threateningly.

'No? Vell I guess I shall haf to dig in furzur for a diagnosis…’

True to his word Schneeple dug his fingers into Iplier’s ribs, thus causing Iplier to break out into a stream of cackling as he slammed his arms down over Schneeple’s hands; that didn’t stop his fingers wiggling in torturous earnest though.

'Yohohohohohohohou ahahahahahashohole!’

Scheeple tried to look offended but his gleeful grin took precedence as Iplier writhed beneath him.

'How DARE you insult a medical professional! Zis is a serious examination!’

Iplier giggled loudly at Schneeple’s reprimanding, and those got even louder when Schneeple wormed his way into Iplier’s sensitive underarms. The man’s kill spot.

'NAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!’

Schneeple used his dexterity malevolently to scratch and scribble in his victim’s hollows, his relentlessness brought tears to Iplier’s eyes.

'I’m sorry not vhere? Perhaps a prescription of anti-pschosis medication is in order-’

'SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUP!!!’

Iplier blushed furthur at Scheeple’s amused cackle, even with his arms clamped down the torture was inescapable. He was squirming and struggling, but Dr. Schneeplestein was stronger that he looked. He withdrew one hand, the other still scratching ruthlessly in one hollow, and now used his free hand to experimentally flutter at the doctor’s ears. The reaction was priceless. A high pitched squeak preceeded a plethora of snorts and giggles from the heavily blushing man, already embarrassed from his vulnerability.

'Awwww, vhat cute noises you make! Does somevone haf sensitive little ears?’

'WHAHAHAHAHAT DOHOHOHO YOHOHOHOU THIHIHIHINK?!’

Schneeple grinned as he flicked and fluttered his fingertips gently and couldn’t help but look fondly upon Iplier’s wide smile and scrunched eyes; the sight spurring him to continue.

'From a medical pespective I’d have to say zat you do…’

Iplier yelped and scrunched his neck as Schneeple continued to take advantage of his sensitivity. It went on for several minutes, but all of that combined with the torment under his arm was almost becoming too much, well no it DEFINATELY was.

'PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!!!’

Schneeple snickered fondly at the fact that he’d managed to reduce Iplier to a virtually incoherent mess, he wasn’t going to let him forget this for a LONG while. However due to the streaming tears and reducing lung capacity of his friend, he decided to let up as he removed his hands gently. Iplier curled into a ball and rapidly rubbed behind his ears to shun away the redidual tingles that festered there.

'I think I must diagnose you vith sensitive nerves, I regret to say zat I haf never seen a case as severe as yours befo-’

'Fuhuhuhuck yohohohou dihickwad.’

Schneeple cackled loudly as he disposed of the medical gloves and perched on the examination bench, he looked down at the recovering man with glittering eyes and a playful smirk in place. Iplier glared lightly as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

'Perhaps later.’

Scheeple smirked as Iplier sighed and shook his head with an exasperated smile, but it was happy exasperation rather than that of sadness or tiredness. His flush died down and he grinned lightly.

'You wish.’

Schneeple nudged his shoulder with a light glare before jumping to his feet again, always full of energy.

'How vould you feel about decaf and a lazy evening at my place? In my personal AND medical opinion I think zat you need it.’

Iplier looked up and down at the energetic man, this crazy, haphazard, dangerous…and kind man. Schneeplestein held out his hand and Iplier took it with a small smile.

'When you put it like that how can I refuse?’

He nearly yelped when Schneeple yanked him into a standing position and dragged him through the empty corridors rambling away about some such random topic. It was then that Iplier thought, perhaps he did have some medical skill after all.

okay but like i TOTALLY ship them, hope you enjoy and if you do i urge you to tell me and even send in requests cuz i’m happy to do 'em! luv yous x 😊

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robxstar · 7 years

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any chance we could get a meta on dick/Kory in the newest teen titans movie? Pretty please

You know what nonny, why the heck not, I was filled with such utter delight at their interactions and scenes together that I got no trouble gushing about it for a few paragraphs.

Long-ass post and lotta screencaps, as per usual.

I was actually really trepidacious about Judas Contract when it was first announced. Like, I thought there was no way it was gonna work with their chosen line-up and they were obviously gonna bring Deathstroke back from the dead and it would be lame and they were gonna keep stringing us Dick/Kory shippers along with the barest minimum of quality ship tease they could get away with.

I still don’t think everything worked about the movie. (Raven was pretty much just as useless as she was in the comic version, Slade had none of the humanizing motivation behind his actions, and let’s not talk about their ass-backwards origin for Jericho.) But it was surprisingly both semi-accurate to the source material and Actually Decent and fixed a few things that bugged me about the story and HOLY CATS THE QUALITY ROBSTAR CONTENT.

LIKE, THEY WERE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL HAPPY SUPPORTIVE HEALTHY COUPLE AND I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF???

I will go into detail now. :)

So we open with the Titans puttering along and Dick is being Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt and then the alien brawl draws their attention.

And we begin the beautiful Dick/Kory goodness with one of my favorite tropes ever, Love At First Sight!

Or more accurately, That Look Of Utter Awe And Adoration And “Wow Wow Who Is That I Feel Tingly All Of A Sudden She’s Shiny”.

We’re like, not even a minute in and the music goes all soft and romantic and there’s slow camera pans and the boy is already a goner just look at him.

And thus, the film establishes right away, “These two are a Thing. They are OTP. Enjoy! :D”

As with the 2003 animated cartoon, Robin is pretty much immediately on Starfire’s side and feels really protective over her right off the bat. (Pardon the pun.)

He orders the Titans into action. And Kid Flash lampshades the fact that Robin is clearly thinking with his… ahem… “little grayson”.

Robin fights the Gordanians holding onto her, freeing her. She shouts at him about the portal and he orders Speedy to blow it up.

As the wind pulls at them, sucking the Gordanians up, Robin grabs onto her wrist and oh my gosh it is just so cute and romantic and aaaaaaaaah!

A Gordanian grabs onto her ankle and pulls her away and Robin disconnects his grapple line to go save her.

AND THEN THEY CRADLE EACH OTHER AS THEY CRASH BACK TO THE GROUND AND KORY ANGLES HERSELF SO THAT SHE HITS FIRST.

BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, HER SMOL NEW FRIEND LOOKS TINY AND BREAKABLE.

She rolls right on top of him and plants the iconic language learning kiss on him.

AND THEN THIS NERD SMILES FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE FILM STARTED AND COMMENTS, “USEFUL.” WHEN KORY EXPLAINS HOW SHE CAN LEARN LANGUAGE VIA LIP CONTACT.

WE ARE THREE MINUTES IN AND THE LEVEL OF EPIC TRUE LOVE OTP IS KILLING ME.

His face omg he is so BESOTTED. He’s barely known her five minutes and she’s already getting started on relaxing his seriousness and helping him be more himself and less Gruff McAngsty Mini-Batman.

And since Kory still looks sad and uncertain, Dick is quick to reassure her that she’s welcome there on Earth, and welcomes her to to team. Quintessential RobStar right there.

Everything about this opening is just framed and shot so romantically. The camera angles and focus, the staging, their expressions. Every single animation choice is a deliberate HEY HELLO THESE TWO ARE IN LOVE YES?

And lo, I am slain. For this is ship tease of the highest caliber thank you more please.

To my everlasting delight, there was more. LOTS more.

Dick and Kory being a highly effective Battle Couple, watching each other’s backs and keeping each other safe.

Dick and Kory flirting under fire and playfully teasing each other. (Making it clear to all that they are disgustingly open about their relationship.)

Dick being respectful of Kory’s leadership and not wanting to upstage her, and reassuring her doubts when the team gravitates towards him.

Dick worrying about Kory specifically when Deathstroke attacks.

Kory being devastated when Deathstroke brags about having killed Dick, refusing to believe it’s true, and having faith in him to rescue them.

Dick asking Kory to move in with him, in front of their “kids”.

WHICH IS FRAMED RIDICULOUSLY LIKE A PROPOSAL FOR LITERALLY NO OTHER REASON THAN SHIPTEASE???

Dick and Kory hugging.

Dick and Kory training.

Dick and Kory dancing.

Dick and Kory canoodling on their couch.

BASICALLY DICK AND KORY BEING LOWKEY MARRIED THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE FILM.

There’s just SO much that’s just the essence of what I love about these two–the mutual care and concern, the bolstering each other up, the kickass tag-teaming in battle, her undying faith in him–and then it’s just added to by them being so healthily intimate and mature and adult when it comes to relating to each other. She feels free to express her doubts and insecurities to him. He compliments and encourages her. They tease each other. They talk through their issues. They snuggle and kiss and are gross in front of their “children”.

Their relationship is so open and natural and comfortable and THIS IS BASICALLY EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED???!?!

Hello yes, I was not expecting this level of OTP, but clearly someone on the writing team for this film KNOWS and GETS the heart of Dick/Kory and why people love their romance because it is aaaaaaaalllll over this film.

They don’t even have any stupid plot drama arguments it’s just aaaaaaaaah!

*heart eyes forever*

OH AND THE KIDS SHIP IT TOO??? LIKE, EVEN DAMIAN WHO DOESN’T LIKE ANYONE IS ALL, “I APPROVE GRAYSON.” WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK.

I’m kind of being incoherent and rambly and not very analytical right now but just… THESE TWO. THESE TWO and how they are written in THIS MOVIE is basically exactly perfect and exactly how you should write established couples and I would just like writers everywhere to TAKE NOTE THIS IS HOW YOU DO IT.

They aren’t forced into stereotypical roles, they aren’t squished into unnecessary UST or other tensions, they don’t butt heads, they’re just supportive and playful and adore each other and care about each other’s feelings and talk out their problems AND ARE SO RIDICULOUSLY HEALTHY TOGETHER AND MAKE EACH OTHER SO STUPIDLY HAPPY.

I just love them so much askfjhakjghjhg.

Excuse me I need to go cry and watch the movie again.

But seriously, there is literally nothing wrong with Dick and Kory in this movie, they are happy and adorable and perfect and are basically Mom and Dad to the Titans and it is WONDERFUL.

My babies.

#robstar #robin #starfire #dick grayson #koriand'r #dc animated films #meta #meta: ship appreciation #the TT universe ships robstar

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heoltrouble · 7 years

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Stranger (5)

one two three four five six seven eight

"I love you.."

"Please wake up.."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby.."

You heard Gray's voice calling you over and over, his tone sounded sad and more desperate in each call. You wanted to answer him, to tell him that you're okay but you couldn't do anything. Your eyes felt so heavy and the sleepiness took over your whole body.

Finally you could open your eyes slowly, cream colored ceiling was the first thing that you saw, you were already back at hotel. Your mind began to processing about what exactly happened, your last memory was at the beach with Gray who confessed his love to you.

Speaking of Gray, you looked around to find him and you saw him curled in uncomfortable position. His head was rested on the bed, with his cheek plastered on you left hand while his rest of the body against the bed, he practically sat on the floor for God knows how long. You didn't make any movement, trying to keep him in his peaceful sleep. He looked so tired and his back must be hurt because he sleep in really uncomfortable position. His dark straight eyelashes started to stir as his long nose snuggled closer to your arms, inhaling your scent, he let a long sigh and muttered in his sleep.

"Sorry.." Gray muttered in his sleep, pleading and begging desperately. His brow frowned as he keep mumbling incoherent words until you saw his lips formed to pout. He looked so young but in distress, you wanted to lay your finger on his cheek and caress them but it must be woken him up. He needed sleep, judging from his position right now, he must be worried of you.

Then a flash of memory he kissed you at the beach and you kissed him back appeared, making your cheeks red as you recalled how passionate his kiss which unfortunately ended because you passed out. You sighed inwardly, why did you have to get that damn head ache in the middle of making out session with the one and only man you wanted to be with? So embarrassing.

"Urghh." You froze when Gray gritted his teeth in his sleep then snuggled closer on your arm. A soft groaned came from his mouth before he forced his eyes open.

"Hi.." you greeted him shyly.

He looked little disoriented for nano seconds before he came in his sense and jerked himself to sit and watching you with his little confuse but adorable face. Seriously he needs to stop looking that damn good even in 'I woke up like this' face.

"Are you okay?" He placed his palm on your forehead, "are you feeling well? Do you need something? I need to call the doctor—" he rambled full of concern then you stopped him.

"Oppa I'm fine, really."

His expression softened, "Are you sure?"

"I am sure, it was a pretty bad headache but I'm okay now." You smiled reassuring him.

"I thought you—" his palm touched you cheek, "I'm not ready to lose you, you're too precious."

You squeezed his hand on your cheek, "I'm okay, no more headache and I'm happy." And you were blushing again.

"Happy?"

You nodded shyly.

"Why?"

"Because.." you wanted to say because you love me, but was he really said that words? It was real, wasn't it?

"Because?"

"Becauseyouloveme." You said really fast in one breathe.

"Did I really say that?" Gray grinned boyishly, making you looked at him in horror.

"Maybe I missed heard it.." you mumbled stupidly. Maybe it was only a dream? You cursed yourself in your head then Gray chuckled.

"I'm the boyfriend, then." He gave you a sweet smile, earning your confusion.

"I did say I love you." He nodded, "but I don't mind to remind you that I love you, I can say it everyday, no need to worry, girlfriend." He winked at you.

Heol! Did he just say that word again? Please don't passed out this time! You scold yourself, ignoring your cheeks which blushing madly.

You felt his palms cupped your face as he leaned in, "I want to kiss you now, as much as I know that you love my kissing skill, I don't want you to pass out again this time."

You didn't even have chance to reply him because his lips already landed smoothly on your grinning lips.

It was almost 2 pm when you and Gray arrived safely at Gray's apartment

"Are you tired?" Gray held your hand while walking, he had been very touchy to you since the morning when you woke up and had sweet confession then little bit cuddle make out time. He acted possessive and it wasn't like you complain about, it was surely odd but you felt it right. Everything he did for you it's right and your stupid face couldn't stop smiling. He loves you!

"No, I'm happy." You chuckled.

"Me too, today is the best day." He grinned and you grinned too. He punched the code to unlock his apartment then let you in, he needed to go back at AOMG head quarter due the preparation for their upcoming concert, though you clearly heard him complaining and almost sulking because he has to leave you until night. You promised him you'll be fine and you only needed to check yourself at hospital, Gray was really concerned and insisted that you need to meet your doctor as soon as possible. He worried that your headache might be something that needed to be more concerned.

After both of you finished unpacking and came the time for Gray to go, you were escorting him at the doorway. You didn’t say anything because you’re too shy, damn—

"I'll be right back." He cracked the shyness and silence between both of you.

"Okay.." you nodded, very shy.

"Stay safe." He said, giving you his genuine smile.

"Yes, I will." You pressed your lips together to stop your stupid grin

"That's good." He patted your head like a child.

"Yeah." You mumbled to yourself before you looked up at him and found him smiling at you. You didn’t want him to go but you won’t Gray felt annoyed because you’re too clingy.

"I guess I need to go?" he smiled apologetically.

"You should.." you agreed.

"Okay.. bye?" he raised his eyebrow, expecting something that you had no idea what was about.

"Bye…“ you waved your hand at him awkwardly. What does he wants?

After few seconds he finally responded, “Okay.” Then he slung his backpack, reaching for the door knob.

“Ummm— I love you." You mumbled shyly, thinking he might didn’t hear you.

But it turned out he was still there then he came back and gave you quick peck on the lips, "Love you more."

“How do you feel?” the doctor asked as soon as he saw you.

“I’m fine, but lately I got headache even if I didn’t try to remember something.” You reported your condition. You quickly went to the hospital ten minutes after Gray left the apartment. It was your monthly scheduled checkup, despite of Gray’s worry you also needed to know your health condition.

The doctor nodded before he continued, “shall we get you examined?”

After several examination series, the doctor finally had the result. You were sitting across his desk, waiting him to explain.

“Is there any problem with my condition?” you asked timidly.

“No, everything is fine. You only need more rest because your baby needs it, don’t be too stress and don’t work too hard. It seems your headache often comes because you didn’t eat properly and it could be also because your pregnancy.”

You were carefully listening his explanation but your head felt like poured by very cold ice which made your brain freezing. What did he say?

Pregnant? Who’s pregnant?

Your palms started to feel sweaty and cold due your stress.

“I take you didn’t know that you’re pregnant?” he smiled, “you’re on your nine weeks of pregnancy, congratulation.”

#gray #callmegray #sunghwa #leesunghwa #lee sunghwa #aomg gray #gray scenario #gray scenarios #grayscenario #grayscenarios

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