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warmau · 3 years

Text

maybe the heat has gotten to chenle

when he sits down on the last step of the long staircase nestled between your building and the twenty four hour grocery store

the stairs lead up to the next block, where you can hear the vague sounds of kids playing on the street. one of the voices might be haechan, he’s shouting for someone to come back

but you look at chenle and he’s looking at his knees

freshly bruised from where he and jisung both fell off their bikes a couple days ago, it’s starting to scab and he looks like he’s trying not to pick at it

“sorry, you want me to do what?”

“don’t make me say it again.”

he mutters and he won’t look at you

you know even if you ask him too - he’s probably the most stubborn person you’ve ever met - he won’t

“no, i didn’t hear - well i did, but i mean - you’re crazy.”

“you can just say no.”

he shifts his gaze from his knees up to the sky and then after you wait patiently for another minute he finally does look at you

“do you really hate the idea of it?”

“it’s not that. it’s just.......if you really like this person, you should just fall into it naturally with them. you shouldn’t have to practice - you should just do it when it feels right.”

his mouth twitches like he’s about to scowl and roll his eyes and stomp away

because that’s what he does when things don’t go his way but instead he just stares at you and says;

“i won’t know what feels right until ive at least tried it.”

you should argue back, you and chenle are notorious for always bantering and quarrelling and leaving all of your friends either annoyed or doubling over with laughter

but you can’t think of something witty to say. something at least convincing because he makes a point

but also

how is he not embarrassed to ask me of all people that?

sighing, you’re the one who looks away and over your shoulder up the stairs

no one is around - their voices are - but they’re distant and chenle is close

so close that bruised knee of his could brush yours if he just inched a little to his left

“fine.”

you give in and turn your shoulders back toward him

“you might as well practice with me, anyone else and you might actually catch another crush on top of the one you have now.”

chenle half smirks and you don’t register the emotional shift in the light brown of his eyes

you just think he’s going along with your joke - well not really a joke, more like a statement

and that’s how you end up leaning in, one hand on the stairs as if to keep your balance even while sitting down

and the other on the side of chenle’s cheek

you hover just a moment before you kiss him - a split, wordless millisecond of hesitation - and then you let your lips gently press to his

it isn’t even a real kiss but it is the first moment of the rest of a summer you never expected

of course, you and chenle tell no one about this weird, awkward, beyond the boundaries of friendship thing you are doing

mostly because if you did haechan and jaemin would not let it go, not until you were all rolling in your graves and jisung would probably be scarred with crippling doubt of where every friendship of his stood

so you only naturally have to sneak around

chenle is a good liar though, well better than you who has trouble even looking renjun in the eyes when chenle says you and him have to leave a little earlier from the backyard barbeque someones throwing because oh right, you forgot your allergy medicine at home and chenle promised some old lady across the street he’d feed her cat while she was on holiday

they’re half-assed, badly timed lies but it is summer

and if you and chenle don’t want to have fun with the rest of the group then so be it

you guys just get teased and called debbie-downers and then you’re home free

well home free in a sense that you know have some time to sit on the rug of your bedroom and kiss

for the sake of learning

“where do i put my hands?”

chenle asks one time and you move instinctively to put one of his palms on the side of your waist.

that’s where i like to be held-

you drop his hand as soon as the thought crosses your mind and stutter out

“well, that’s more a question for your crush. different people like it in different places.”

he nods and thinks for a second

“we’ve only kissed a couple of times but i think i like putting my hand on your waist.”

his palm ends up just where you had wanted to lead it and when a little swell of butterflies flutters in your stomach at the fact, you quell the feeling and shove it deep deep deep down

this persists throughout the weeks, and each time you try and introduce chenle to a tier higher of kissing, if that makes sense

you’ve got down the leaning in, the hand position, the tilting your head, the emergency breath mints, the lead up or lead out, the avoid nose smashing or teeth clanking and then there’s only really one last thing you can graduate too and it’s

“tongue?”

you almost hark on the ice-cream sandwich you’re eating when jaemin says the word

“yeah, he got his tongue pierced. are you ok?”

renjun turns his long gaze to you, the poor ice-cream melting all over the wrapper and on your fingers

“fine, yeah, it’s just - super hot. i think im gonna go home and lay under the ac.”

your eyes go from renjun to jaemin to chenle who gives a little nod and stands up from his side of the table with a groan

“sorry guys, i got a text from my mom. i gotta go now too.”

no one says anything. renjun taps his fingers and doesn’t look away from you as jaemin tries desperately to convince you both to stay and when you both say no he sticks his tongue out and asks you a question that you thought would sooner come out of anyone elses mouth

“are you two like hooking up behind our backs or something, you’re always gone when we’re having the most fun!”

you think you might really fall over - renjun, sure you could have seen him figuring it out. haechan - definitely. even jeno......but

jaemin?

“what? like i’d ever hook up with them.”

chenle’s voice comes out, high and mocking

it’s pretty good and you almost believe it for a second - turn around and tell him hey, you’ve been making out with me this whole entire month so if you want to end up practicing on a stuffed animal back home you better take that back!

when you realize - right, he’s covering up

you scrunch up your nose and chuck the icecream into the trash

“right, like id ever let him touch me.”

jaemin is convinced, he goes back to laughter and obliviousness, but renjun chuckles when you pass by and the undertone of it makes you shake even in the heat

“renjun knows.”

you and chenle are not in your room for once, you’re outside in a small park that’s been abandoned as the summer moon switches places with the summer sun

chenle is swinging back and forth and you’re leaning against the side of the swing set nervously biting your lip

“he gave me a look when we left.”

“are you going to teach me it by the way?”

“teach you what?”

you hear the swing come to a stop and he stands up, you don’t know if now the summer heat is getting to you

because when you look at him he looks different

he looks handsome, not just cute and sweet like you’re used to seeing him - all round faced and smiley - he’s gotten taller and is still so naturally thin it brings out the defining cuts of the sharper parts of his face

you look away immediately when you start cataloging all of this in your brain

people only do that with people they like, you don’t look at your friends and start painting their best features in your head like a psycho ........ ok not a psycho but someone that’s.....that’s in ......

“you know, how to actually kiss. not little pecks or whatever, like actual deeper kissing.”

it is obvious what he’s asking and you are pretty sure it’s just his drive to be better at all this for that person he likes

but you feel shy about it, even a little uncomfortable with the idea of being slightly closer to someone who is using you as what could be compared with a scientific mannequin

a how-to user guide, a one time trial period

you feel light headed and when chenle comes into your personal space and reaches out to hold you, you jerk back

“stop - wait.”

he listens

“w-who do you even like, you never told me.”

“why’s that important?”

his eyes widen a little and you are racing through a hundred different excuses and reasons to prolong this conversation

“well i want to know. i mean, i mean everything we practiced you’re going to use with them so i just i guess i feel like im at least entitled to know that.”

“it’s a secret, it doens’t matter either way.”

“do i know them?”

chenle frowns, “no. they don’t live near here. anyway are you ok why-”

you walk backwards, up until your back hits the fence that runs around the little park

chenle’s ticked off look turns into genuine concern and he stops a couple of feet from you and asks this time if you’re really ok, if you don’t want to do this anymore than that’s all you have to say-

he’s speaking, in almost something akin to a whisper, and the sound along with the dawning of the evening makes you remember that first kiss you gave him on the stairs

his bruised knee, haechan’s voice in the distance, the long steps leading up to the entire world and away from chenle

if you really had felt nothing for him but friendship, you would have gotten up and told him to stop playing around

you would have trotted up those steps and joined everyone else

you would have never leaned in and kissed him first

but you had and the secret that you’d stowed as far back in your heart as possible had slowly, with each day of this summer, been pulled out and out and out

and now it was big and shining and the only thing you could think about anymore

i like chenle

and everytime he kisses me

he’s thinking of someone else

“i can’t, i can’t do that with you.”

you finally find the words and then clutch your fingers into fists at your side when chenle gives you a sad look you almost never see him wear

“it’s not that i don’t want to, i do. i want to. and not to help you learn or whatever but because i really just........want to.”

that sad look is turning into something you’re too scared to look at - but you know he’s following your train of thought now

“and you should want to do that with the person you like, not a replace-”

“it’s you.”

he cuts in before you finish your sentence and like a train going at full speed you brake and everything crashes in at once

“-ment......sorry, what?”

“it’s you. you’re the person i like.”

“but- you - practice- you - what?”

the starstruck look on your face makes chenle laugh and you can’t believe the audacity, buy you also want an answer so when he wipes away his chuckling he nods

“it was you all along. do you think i’d ever want to spend days making out with someone i didn’t like?”

when you had thought something had been wrong with him on the day he’d asked you to do this the first time, you really had thought either he’d gotten heatstroke or been brainwashed

it was so unlike chenle to 1) admit he needed to practice something and 2) want to practice it with someone he wasn’t at least fond of

so really, maybe something had been wrong with you, when you had failed to see that his whole plan this time was

“you just wanted an excuse to kiss me all summer?”

he shrugs and grins, “it was nice right?”

you can’t argue or lie or disagree - it was nice - and now you’re standing here in this park with no one around and you think maybe you shuold teach chenle the last and final thing about kissing

so you finally let him come closer and with his hand on your waist, just where you like it, he leans in again

but just before you do anything else you pull back and mumble

“jaemin is going to freak out when we tell him he was right, we have been sneaking out around behind everyones back to make out.”

“yeah but renjun definitely knows right?”

you nod, right, maybe that’ll soften the shock for everyone

(it doesn’t)

and sometimes you also get another wave of shock, even after dating chenle for so long

not much has changed - you still like to push each other and tease and pretend like you aren’t head over heels in love with each other

if only because that’s one way to show that you are, in fact, very much attached

and because even when you kiss in front of the group - jaemin still says it blows his mind

the only person who keeps reminding everyone that he saw this coming, even before you and chenle spent that summer locking lips

is renjun who looks at you and chenle and is like, “one day ill probably be helping plan their wedding.”

you and chenle look at each other and pretend to gag, wedding? no way? to each other? you’d both rather die!

and then you grin and kiss and tickle noses and disappear into a bubble of your own

every time you get to be alone though you whisper against his cheek that you love him, he knows exactly how to make you happy

and he reminds you hey - you taught me everything i know, that one summer all that time ago.

#we love this trope at least i do #nct scenarios #nct au #chenle scenarios #chenle au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #nct #chenle #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #chenle imagines #happy birthday kiddo!!!!!!!!#zhong chenle au #nostalgic!au

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analviel · 3 years

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TIM DRAKE IS NOT ROBIN

It just so happens when Tim was planning to find Dick, his parents suddenly call him to tell him that there's a party or an event or just something on the other side of the world he can attend with them.

Sometimes they do this and Tim always says yes. It's as rare as leap years. Meaning it has happened only three times in his life before. He agonized over it. But you know, Tim's just a kid and there's no guarantee he can actually do something about Batman and Nightwing. Besides, Batman's been managing -if you can call it that- this long, with Alfred by his side, who's words certainly weights more heavily than the neighbours kid. He can afford a couple of weeks away from Gotham. By that time, Batman probably would've gotten his head straight. He's a hero, he's like, really strong, if anyone can get through this... besides, Tim figures Superman or Wonder Woman will do something before he truly crosses the line, right? Why would a kid know better than real superheroes, right? They must just be waiting until they're really needed. Right? Even though Tim personally thinks they should've at the very least locked Batman up somewhere he can't harm anyone or himself if they can't convince Dick to go back to being Robin. They're heroes.

Tim really wants to spend time with his parents. But before he leaves, he sends letters to every place he thinks Dick may be. The Titans Towers, his apartment in Bludhaven, where he lives with Starfire, Haly's circus, even to houses of his friends heroes. (Tim is twelve/thirteen alright. And one that has maybe below average self-awareness and his letters were very polite even if the act itself might've been vaguely sort of threatening).

So Tim leaves Gotham to spend time with his parents. It's busy, his parents keep him busy, and he doesn't have much time to dedicate to the news from Gotham. And really, if this is how it always is, no wonder his parents don't always have attention to spare on their kid in Gotham. So many things to do, so many things to attend, so many people to meet, and even more sites to visit. And the fighting. Tim hadn't realize it was this bad and suddenly thinks that, you know, it might've been better if he did stay back home. He realizes his parents actually brought him with them because they think a kid will somehow... magically fix them...??? Tim doesn't know, adults can be stupid.

Eventually, they realize the wrong in their ways and sends Tim back when his presence proves ineffective. Tim comes back to the city burning.

Well, not literally, but sort of.

Parts of it are burning. But not the whole thing. That's something.

Batman has been missing. And looking into it, at his last appearance, Tim surmise he retained a heavy wound.

(Or he's dead, not like they'll reveal it to the city just to cause more chaos and panic.) Batman seems to be out of the field and that was what Tim wanted, before he would've crossed the line.

Only, thing is, he'd already revealed too much weakness. The Batsignal had been taken down after one too many close calls on the perps they pick up. And the violence only raised from there.

(The first month when Batman and Robin and Batgirl's absence started to become suspicious. The second month Batman is deep in his spiral of violence. The third month Tim follows him around and then makes plants to pick up Dick that doesn't come to fruition and then sends his letters and then leaves. Six weeks with his parents, a few days from and to Gotham, two weeks to get caught up with what happened in Gotham. Batman is out, recovering, resting, dying, who knows.

Five months was all it took for Gotham to go to hell. And all it took was one dead son.)

Spoiler rises.

Gotham has a new champion.

Tim regrets that he hadn't been able to help. Tim will help.

Tim has a new champion.

Spoiler has a fixation on Cluemaster. It's not that difficult to go from there.

As long as, one, you know who was giving the police the answers to Cluemaster's gimmick. And two, that you know there even is a new vigilante because Spoiler is not like Batman who beats perps and leave them on the sidewalk for the police to pick up.

For wearing an almost eyesearing purple costume, Spoiler prefers to keep in the shadows and if not for the time Tim had trailed after Batman's madness, he wouldn't have learned the streets enough to notice the hints.

Tim purchase a laptop, watch tutorials day in and day out, buys pieces from junkyards to fiddle with wires and boards, and leaves Stephanie Brown a gift on her windowsill with a purple ribbon. Tim greets Spoiler over the comms. He calls himself Asset.

(It is not well-thought out because Stephanie takes to calling the mystery person who snuck into her room and refuses to give anything about themselves out 'Ass'. Tim did not actually sneak into her room but sent a drone to drop off his gift. Steph doesn't budge.)

Tim is not yet good enough to hack into cameras around Gotham. He finds he's good with a computer but not that good, his real talent lies not in the software but in the wires and soldering iron and the tiny bug camera/audio he has Spoiler plant around Gotham. If he can't take other cameras, he'll make them. (Also in case someone more experienced at hacking than he is manages to get in the system, Tim has a self-destruct button just for that. Yes, Dr. Doofenshmirtz is a good role models for mad scientist wannabes.)

A week is all it takes for Spoiler and Asset to get all the necessary evidence against Cluemaster. They celebrate. They are thirteen year olds and they just prevented a bomb from going off and put a bad man behind bars. They are high. They find more cases, for the most part C-rank villains and bellow but they also help with the big names by Spoiler planting more cameras and Tim sending the data and feeds for her to drop off to Jim Gordon. He is the only one who knows of the characters that have risen after Batman's sleep and can guess enough from Spoiler's stiff shoulders to keep that to himself.

Then...

Then it is six months and two weeks.

Tim watch from his now multiple screen behind his walk-in closet as a grave is dug out from the inside. Because S&A have put cameras everywhere just in case. After all, it's places you think are of no interest that criminals will sought to make deals in.

Tim does not send his partner to what may be a zombie but instead tells her to clear the direction Jason is stumbling towards. It takes him minutes to realize that Jason is patrolling his Robin patrol. Jason is sent to the hospital and Tim contacts them to list him under the Drakes, paying for his room and every other necessities. Has him transferred to the hospital that Drake medical industries is personally funding. When asked the name, Tim says Alvin Draper. He gets a cab to the hospital, finds Jason knocked out, peers at Robin's face. It's when they're alone, the previously dead boy's hands wrapped in bandages that Tim confirms in disbelief that as far as he knows, the boy matches Jason Todd. As if him digging his way out of Jason Todd's grave wasn't enough. Granted, Tim doesn't even know the shade of his eyes, so he's not the best judge.... Tim snaps a picture from different angles of the room and takes another cab back to Bristol while thinking up a story.

Tim knocks on the neighbour, tells them he's got something of Jason and if he can see Mr. Wayne. Tim is surprised himself by how relieved he is to see Bruce standing alive and well. Or not standing, leg and arm in a cast, an IV beside him on the couch in the drawing room. Tim weaves his story. Little Tim Drake wandering around Gotham, stumbles on a bunch of medic picking up a boy that Tim recognises as the neighbour's dead kid, pays for his hospital bills, takes a couple of pictures after the first aid or whatever and gives Bruce the pictures. Bruce makes his way to the hospital.....

I've lost steam at this point.

You decide if they arrive to see Jason and Bruce and Alfred is all tearful while Tim awkwardly leaves the room to resume his brainstorming on the S&A latest case, or they find an empty bed and Bruce goes on a frenzy tracking his undead lost son.

Additional idea: So Tim not being there didn't kill Bruce, but Bruce has been crippled and Batman is dead now. So without Robin, Batman did die.

Maybe Dick comes back to become Batman with Jason as his Robin, since that's not a combination often seen (Or the Batman Jason and Robin Tim, that's more common, though I'm loath to give up Spoiler and Asset). Around this time Babs comes back to the scene as Oracle with the birds of prey.

Additional additional idea to how they'll work with everyone back on the scene: since the Bats have the fighters and more equipped to report to time sensitive stuff, maybe S&A focus more on cold cases. Where Spoiler goes sneaking around, poking at old cases with Asset in her ears, figuring out puzzles and old clues, making breakthrough after breakthrough and bringing long overdue justice together.

Either the Drakes dies without Batman there to slap the poison out of Jack's hands because he's too busy searching for his son, or maybe they live with Tim able to direct Batman there immediately. Either way, Drake industry sponsors S&A, so now Spoiler also has toys like the Spoil... er plane??? Spoiler bike??? Eh, the name's work in progress.

#tim drake #dc #robin #batfam #dc comics #red robin #batman #Stephanie brown #spoiler #batgirl #and i write #jason todd #fic idea #red hood #bruce wayne #tim is not robin #asset tim drake

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one-boring-person · 3 years

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Hey!!!how are you?

Can i have some Rambo Headcanons??

Maybe the old rambo moving nextdoor to a young(24), farmer? (They/them pls), and maybe eventually him developing a crush or Wanting to protect them since they’re always so nice and caring towards him?

Thank you!!(these are for my birthday lmao, im a complete and total rambo simp. And i feel old rambo would really enjoy calming down and helping around with someone who loves him)

You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to write these as soon as I read the request! It's so wholesome, so I hope I've done it justice! And happy birthday! I hope you like these 😊(also I'm good, thanks for asking!)

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x younger!reader headcannons.

Warnings: mention of PTSD, vague injury detail.

A/n: I'm sorry if this is not as expected, I'm still getting to grips with writing headcannons 😅

Masterlist

The ranch had been in a state of disrepair when John first got there, walls thinning, paint peeling, buildings empty and soulless. He hadn't expected things to be as they were when he left, all those years ago, but the evident lack of care surprised him.

The house had been empty, which he eventually figured out was die to the fact his father had passed a good few years prior, and hadn't left anyone in charge of the ranch.

This meant that everything was as it was when he left, photographs hanging awkwardly on the walls, dusty furniture shoved out of the way.

Naturally, the rest of the ranch was also in pretty poor condition: the stables were practically overrun with weeds and foul smelling hay, one lone horse still nosing weakly at the empty water bucket on the floor. Taking pity on the animal, and feeling a need to help it, John took it out onto the field, which is where he first saw them.

Across from his father's ranch was another, smaller one, where horses and cattle grazed in the fields, a single car parked up beside the main house, which was in a much better condition than his own newfound home. In one of the fields, running around with a young foal, was who he assumed to be a ranchhand.

For a moment or so, he had stood and watched as the figure ran in circles with the youthful horse in tow, admiring their seemingly high spirits - he hadn't felt high-spirited in years.

After he'd helped the old horse from the stables out (cleaning out a stall, feeding it with feed he found in a storeroom), John had gone back to the house, almost forgetting the figure across the field, intending to head to sleep.

A couple of days passed after that, before he saw them again, though this time, they also saw him.

He'd started work on the house, having collected what he needed from a nearby town, and was sat on the roof of the main building as the sun glared down at him. Taking a brief pause from his work, he'd looked up and seen them in the field again, this time astride a larger horse.

They were racing around again, until the rider noticed they were being watched, at which point they slowed to a halt and looked around, quickly spotting John on the roof. From that distance, he couldn't tell what their expression was, but they raised a hand after a moment or so, waving up at him. Hesitantly, he had waved back.

Later that day, when he'd been sat on his father's old rocking chair on the veranda, taking another break, John had noticed someone coming up the road towards him. Standing out of instinct, John soon realised it was someone astride a horse, the rider carefully trotting up the drive, their face becoming clearer the nearer they came.

Still cautious of people, John had acted somewhat guarded as the person rode up to him, a broad smile on their work-weathered youthful face. In their hand, they carried a small box, which they cradled awkwardly on their thighs.

Approaching him, they'd tipped their hat, a battered Stetson, and greeted him, introducing themself as (Y/n), the owner of the ranch next to his. They'd spoken cheerfully, as if unaffected by the hardships of life, which they may well be. That's what John thought anyway, until they openly and happily told him about the passing of their parents, four years ago. The ranch had been left to them, leaving them in charge of the business.

Their first encounter had been somewhat awkward, but it didn't seem to bother (Y/n), and they left after ten minutes or so with a genial smile at him, stating that they'd be happy to help if he ever needed it. They also left behind the box, which John soon discovered was filled to the brim with cookies, a food he hadn't eaten for decades. Trying one, he soon rediscovered a love for them he didn't remember he had.

In the following weeks, John managed to fix up the house, getting it ready to live in properly, with some very brief help from his neighbour. They'd been round earlier in one week, dropping off another box of cookies, and had offered him access to their tools, which they brought round soon after.

After this, John felt it was only right that he invited them round for drinks as thanks, something that still made him somewhat uneasy. Somehow, he did feel reassured when they happily agreed and turned up the following Sunday, the two of them sitting in comfortable quiet on the veranda, sometimes talking, other times staying silent.

This became a regular occurrence.

Every week, (Y/n) would go to John's, or vice-versa, the latter soon learning to trust them and enjoy their company, finding himself in a better mood than he had been in in a long time. Their openness to talk or listen (even if he said very little) comforted him, allowing him to forget the nightmarish things going through his head near-daily.

After three months, (Y/n) had started coming round much more often, many times just appearing in the middle of the day to help out with whatever task needed doing, unafraid of doing dirty work. They later told him it was because they enjoyed his company far too much, and often actively sought it out: they made it clear that his quiet, brooding nature was an attractive quality about him that reassured them.

It didn't take long for them to become close, the two seemingly working at a different wavelength to the rest of the world, one that only existed between their small ranches.

They helped John procure his first horses, lending him one of their own to help build up the numbers. The differences between each ranch soon became blurred, the fence running through the middle of their respective fields eventually disappearing as they merged their ranches together, continuing with business individually with the help of the other's land.

John had long since accepted, within himself, that he would not find someone to spend the rest of his life with, not after Sarah. It was a sad truth, but one he had to live with.

That all changed when he suddenly realised he had fallen for his neighbour, the one person he now trusted and cared for more than anyone in the world.

He'd realised this when their face first started appearing in his nightmares, after a close accident that nearly resulted in catastrophe. (Y/n) had fallen from the roof of the stables, thankfully landing on a stack of stray hay which softened the impact, leaving them in severe amounts of pain for two days. Their face became part of the repertoire in his head, nightmares about their death soon plaguing him even further, as he finally acknowledged the newfound love he felt for them.

Because that's what it was: love.

It couldn't be anything less, he was too damaged to have heedless fancies, and his emotions were far too strong towards them. Since he'd moved in, (Y/n) had always been there, acting as a friend he never had, steadily working their way into his life, bettering it in ways he never would've thought another person could, supporting him through the episodes of flashbacks he was now prone to having. They had showed him love and care he hadnt experienced from anyone else. He valued them highly, prioritising them over himself, and he knew he was heavily attracted to them, but he told himself "no", don't ruin the friendship.

They didn't make it easy to repress the urges. No, they only managed to win him over more and more with their caring, loving attitude, though their youth managed to awaken some form of paternal instinct John never knew he had. He felt the need to protect them at all times, and he would do his best to uphold this, but he knew his feelings were getting too strong.

Somehow, he managed to miss all the loving glances, and little tells (Y/n) inadvertently laid down before him, the rancher have g developed similar feelings for him, though they'd never admit it to John, knowing how human interaction like that could be upsetting for him.

Eventually, it had taken a beautiful evening, with the sun spilling its last bloody rays on the dry landscape as the two sipped beer from bottles on the veranda, for them to finally admit to each other how they felt.

It just happened: one minute, they were leaning in to replace their bottles on the table, the next, their lips are just touching, breaths mingling as they struggle to do rain themselves. (Y/n) had finally leaned in, pressing their lips against his, pulling back almost as quickly as they moved in, a horrified, embarrassed expression on their face.

They'd apologised instantly, terrified that they'd screwed up their relationship, rambling and cursing until John had recovered and kissed them again, cupping their face in his hand as he pulled them closer. It had been too long for him, and the touch was just incredible, goosebumps rising along his spine as he poured all of his love and care into the kiss, pressing as close as possible.

Somehow, (Y/n) had ended up in his lap, head on his chest as he cradled them, relishing in the feeling of having a solid, supple body against his own after so long, and one that means him no harm, too. They knew where they both stood, and it kickstarted a close relationship.

(Y/n) moved in with him after their second foaling season together, where he'd seen their parental instincts kick in, particularly when they'd then worked to socialise the foals by playing with them. The memory would always stick with John: something about the carefree youth in their face as they ran around with the frolicking horses reminded him of the good in his life.

Life was good, everything was going mostly well.

Naturally, there were some days when he'd relapse, having particularly bad episodes that would be harrowing on both him and (Y/n), though they were always there to help him through it. Their soft words of love and worry would easily permeate the cloud of despair, and had break down in their arms, enjoying the sensation of being held.

They often held each other. Even if it was just a quick hug, or an embrace from behind as one pressed up against the other's back, touch became a large factor in their relationship - John relished it after the more callous touch he had grown used to.

Kisses, too, became a large way of showing their affection. Little ones here and there between jobs, deep passionate kisses up against the wall of the house, or sloppy making out on the shared seat on the veranda, it all counted for their love, and they thoroughly enjoyed partaking in them.

(Y/n) was always there, even when Gabrielle and Maria joined them. They were there when Gabrielle died, and they were there to avenge her death, choosing to go out with the man they loved.

Both of them liked to cook, even if John's meals were a little...plain...so they often spent hours in the kitchen with each other, fooling around with whatever they could, John's face alight with more smiles and grins than he thinks it's ever been.

They went riding together, finding solace in each other's company on their many trails through their land, the horses often coming home tired after so long of being out.

Sometimes, John got self-conscious about his age in comparison with their's, thinking he is too old for them. Everytime this happened, (Y/n) would reassure him that they love him for who he is and doesn't care if he's not as young as he used to be, it never would matter.

Marriage was never really a thing they considered. John never had much time for the state anymore, so why get them involved in their relationship?

They considered themselves married, and wore rings to show it, but it was never a legal affair. Nevertheless, the union had always been a happy one, and John could honestly say that he had been wrong about himself: he had found love.

#rambo x reader #rambo imagine #Rambo headcannons #Rambo #john rambo x reader #John Rambo #John Rambo headcannons #Rambo last blood #Rambo 4

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ibroughtyoumybullets · 3 years

Note

You said not to ask so please ignore this if you don't want to explain, but could you elaborate on your March 19th / May 1st theory? thanks!

ahfkafhksfh yeah no problem. its not a theory its just ... brain worms that have taken a specific shape but thats not new this is just the latest form. under a cut because i hate like. getting peoples hopes up over something ive entirely made up

greentext format but make it wordy

> i think frank has been like. suspicious lately. i dont know how to explain it beyond that. he’s done a LOT of press-but-not-press in the last month or so. sure, he’s definitely bored and stuck in his house like the rest of us, and he had a new EP come out, and the EP is technically the reason for the press. but it also ... isnt. like the bulk of it has been AFTER the EP came out, and none of it has been wholly focused on the EP. and to me, at least, it feels like, i dont know, easing the band back into public consciousness thru a press circuit without the band ACTUALLY doing a press circuit because MCR been pretty hard and fast about the ‘we dont need or want ur press’ when it comes to the reunion.

> continuing off the last one, in the ... jim ward interview he did, i think? one of the more recent ones, at least - he got asked about his writing process and mentioned working with gerard in present tense. very very likely it meant nothing at all, but also like ... i dont trust him LOL part of me thinks it was on purpose. Im just suspicious of him after the broken clock thing.

> not only did frank mention working with gerard in the present tense, for Months now, but especially during his recent mini press tour, frank has been really vague but consistent in talking about working with people on music remotely. id have to go looking for it and i dont feel like it, but it’s been something along the lines of ‘working with new people And people you know’. suspitcheous.

> ONTO GERARD. Gerard like never uses social media. but then a couple days ago he pops up to mention franks EP (which is sweet) and makes sure to sign it so its like, obviously not something his social media manager wrote up for him. and in that post he mentions being down in the lab. and LORD KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK THAT MEANS besides the fact that he’s working on something. but hey, its gerard, when isnt he.

> But Gerard’s also doing that charity stream on the 2nd. and we havent seen gerard in MONTHS. since august, maybe? and he’s not just speaking, hes PERFORMING. besides the shrine show, the last time he performed was for the muppet charity thing with ray in 2016, and before that, it was the last hes alien leg in 2015. None of us even expected him to perform when it got announced - it had to be confirmed by the event organizers. and that just ... pings something in my brain, same as franks little press tour. It’s gerard emerging from his cave, Being A Musician, you know?

> SPEAKING of the last time we saw gerard, he teased us back in the summer by mentioning that he has something he’s been working on thats not comic book related that he cant talk about. maybe its a fucking line of hot sauces or a tripp collaboration.

> Or maybe its music.

> this is where we depart from reality a little bit more:

> this has been trotted out again and again on here as a talking point, and i dither between agreeing with it or not, but: MCR spent two years planning their return. they had a plan, for whatever the fuck was supposed to happen - even if all that was supposed to happen was the tour.

> and their plan got pissed on, doused in gasoline, set on fire, extinguished, and thrown into the mouth of a lion. But They Had A Plan. And theyve been fucking radio silent except the hipdot collab, and before that, rescheduling shows. I ASSUME their almost-year of silence has been them, in part, reformulating their plan. Changing whatever it was going to be to fit the new timeline, or making a back up plan in case things get worse.

> But the original plan had them all free - as far as we know - after november of 2020. so they wouldnt have had active MCR stuff happening for the national anthem comic book release, the electric century album + comic release, the you look like death tua comic release. But those things still happened, because they didnt require having to be in the real world where the plague is.

> so, what the worms hinge on, is that whatever the New Plan Is, Whatever They Are Doing Now, it involves waiting until all their obligations and projects that SHOULDNT have interfered with MCR stuff - but had to the potential to because of covid - ended.

> and thats now. thats the next couple weeks. you look like death just finished up, mikeys album and comic are out, and national anthem finishes up in like a week in a half.

> and then theres nothing (that we know of) until the rescheduled shows happen, or *knocks thrice on wood* they have to reschedule again.

> and this is where we really enter crazy town:

> so i was thinking about all of these things, and the imagery / themeing for the return (what little we got of it) and how a year ago everybody was pulling out the wheel of the year trying to figure out what they would do next, and when.

> and March 20th (i know i said march 19th originally, i’ll get into that) is Ostara.

> if youre not vaguely witchy, its basically a festival for the spring equinox. light and dark are in balance, yadda yadda yadda. and i could go into full on insane depth about the black and white aspects of the return, the witchiness of an offering + a summoning but i wont. it boils down to: its the closest festival to when all of MCR’s calendars are clear as far as we know, and its almost a year to date of when they had to reschedule the shows.

> and March 19th is a Friday. which is new music release day. Ostara / the equinox are technically on saturday, but its at 5am on saturday morning so ... technicalities.

> so the worms in my brain say new single on march 19th. or Something on march 19th. or 20th. one of those days.

> and the worms in my brain also say MCR are a bunch of cruel little shits, and theyre gonna make us wait before they give us anything substantial.

> so we move to May 1st.

> May 1st is also known as May Day, also known as Beltane. (We’re back to the wheel of the year for this one) Its the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. And its a Saturday. which is NOT new music release day - but hey, its close enough.

> may day is also like, similar to halloween / samhain in that the veil is supposed to be thinner on those days, and i think theres a connection the imagery and over-all plan wise between coming back on halloween, and possibly doing something on mayday. i dont think they just came back on halloween as a birthday present to frank.

> so second single on may day, or album? or announcement that theres gonna BE an album? maybe they wont give us a single on ostara but just tease us with something. i dont know. but i think theres something here.

> im aware this was a lot of words and i basically gave you nothing, but i can only give you what the worms give to me.

> sorry for being the way i am. hope this helped.

#Anonymous #asks #anon

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upsteadhq · 3 years

Text

attempts

*same warning for the last two parts. this is whump and contains whumpy things, angst and blood*

masterlist series masterlist

Part Three

The more time went on, the more tired Jay could feel himself getting. The only thing keeping him awake was the previously fired gunshot still ringing in his head. He could still hear the echo of the bullet of leaving the chamber, of the body dropping to the ground and the ting that came after as the casing dropped on to the concrete.

It kept playing in his head as if it had just happened.

He was just praying the unconsciousness would take him under it’s wrath, maybe for good. He couldn’t go on without Hailey, there was no point.

In his delirious state the realization of the fact he couldn’t hear the shell casing hit the floor when the actual bullet rang out didn’t hit him until moments later. The first bullet had shot on the opposite side of the building, the other ones were getting closer. He swore they were getting closer.

But then all went quiet. No gunshots. No whispers. No footsteps. No, no, no. It was silent.

Jay tries moving, slowly starting to turn on to his shoulder so he could investigate the sudden silence but the stab coming from his abdomen stopped him, causing a pained groan to rise up the back of his throat and expel into the air. He allowed gravity to work and it took him on to his back and that’s when he assessed the damage done by the offender, seeing the large stain growing bigger by the second, now being able to feel the blood pooling out of the hole left by the bar.

He then catches the sound of footsteps coming toward the door again, which was now slightly pulled-to, and he braces himself for the next beat down, for the next set of punches and kicks.

He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when he hears a voice calling his name, a familiar voice he knew in the back of his head.

“Jay? Jay?” The voice drew closer and then the person behind the voice calls over their shoulder. “Sarge! He’s in here!”

The sudden weight of hands against his abdomen brings another ached cough into the outside world, getting the voice’s attention again.

“Hey, Jay, look at me, you’re okay, we got you,” they say frantically and then in the corner of his eye Jay can see another figure appear in the doorway, this person looking down to him. The first voice then looks to the second. “We need another ambo here like five minutes ago, he’s dumping blood.”

The second one disappears out of the door again, and Jay could hear the gruff voice fading away, leaving him alone with the first.

Jay finds his own voice, speaking it through coughs. He stumbles the first few times, unable to get the full word to leave his mouth and the person hovering over him pushing down on his stomach shakes their head, telling him to save his energy. But he kept going, one thing on his mind and he needed an answer. “H- Hailey?”

The voice nods. “She’s fine, a little beaten up but she’s fine.”

There’s a momentary feeling of relief that comes over him as he knows Hailey is okay, enough to wash away all those anxious thoughts that had been keeping him awake. Now he knew she was okay he could fall asleep.

His eyes started dropping before cold hands slapped the side of his face gently. “No, Jay, you gotta stay awake, just stay awake for me.” The voice says, and Jay swears he recognizes it, but he can’t see the face of the person behind it. He couldn’t focus on figuring it out, all he wanted was to sleep.

Another tap to the side of his face. “Jay, please, just stay with me, you have to.”

But Jay could just feel his eyelids get heavier, the exhaustion hitting him over and over. He needed the nap.

He had been busy all day, no wonder he was tired. Surely this person should understand that, surely they should know he needs a rest, and that they should just let him have it.

Jay was getting more drowsy, everything fading away from around him quickly. The last thing he hears is the voice shouting his name, and it’s almost enough to pull him back into the dark, cold concrete hell-hole but it isn’t enough, and everything goes quiet, cutting to black.

xxx

When Jay finally opened his eyes again it was to the sound of a rhythmic beating echoing throughout the room. He was blinded by the bright overhead lights that filled the room, a huge contrast to the blackness he had seen for god knows how long and to the dim lighting he had been in for hours before that.

He rolls his head across the pillow, an ache started to throb through his head as he rubbed a newly-healing scar against the fabric, but the dull pain was nothing compared to what he had been feeling earlier that day, and he takes it the needle stuck into the back of his hand had something to do with that.

A voice from inside the room makes him move his head back to where it had been before, back in the direction of the origin of the noise. “Jay?” They called his name again.

Through squinted eyes he makes out the figure of the familiar red-head sitting at his bedside and Jay let’s out a grumble.

“Why’d they send in you? I would have preferred anyone but you.” Jay’s dry voice mumbles into the room, making his older brother chuckle.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Will remarks, leaning forward in the chair so he got closer to the bed. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jay brings a small upturn to his lips, the numb pulling on his cheek making anything more than that sore. “You were worried about me.” He says in an amused way.

Will would have reached forward and smacked Jay for that one, for the playful hint in his voice, but after the day he had had, Will decides it’s best to just leave it alone. “Of course I was worried about you, dumbass, you’re my baby brother,” he says, causing Jay to roll his eyes. “And I will always be worried about you,” he adds before a smile comes up on his own face. “You are aware of the fact you’re not a cat, right? You do know you don’t have nine lives, so stop acting like it, you might not be so lucky next time.”

Jay shrugs. “I can be a cat.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow before he looks up, seeing the IV still dripping into his brother’s hand. “That’s the pain meds talking, why don’t you get some more rest?”

His younger brother then shakes his head. “Where’s Hailey?” Jay questions.

The red-head isn’t exactly surprised by Jay’s question, in fact he was quite expecting it. Over the past couple of months Will had noticed the drastic change in Jay. He was happier now than he was just a few months ago. Will had also picked up on the more obvious flirting between Jay and Hailey that happened at Molly’s after they had had one too many drinks. That and the constant absence from the apartment, Jay spending nights somewhere and coming back first thing in the morning to change before work. But as not to overstep into his brother’s personal life he pushed it off, nodding along with Jay when he used the “stayed late at the district doing paperwork and doesn’t have clothes in his locker” or “crashed at Adam’s after watching the game” card for the third time that week.

“She’s downstairs.” He replies, sparking another question from Jay immediately.

“Is she okay?”

Will nods. “Scrapes and a couple bruised ribs but nothing a bit of glue and time can’t fix.”

Jay tries to sit up, only to feel a sharp searing pain in his abdomen. Will jumps from the seat and pushes him back down on the bed fully, shaking his head quickly.

“You’ll pop the stitches, don’t move. You need to rest.”

Jay’s breathless now, the stinging taking his wind away and it was slowly coming back. “What stitches?”

Will points to the covered torso. “Those stitches. Just be careful.”

The vague memory of the attack from the offender then rushes back to Jay, telling him why he needed the stitches, the memory of one of the jagged ends of the bar cutting through his abdomen coming back to him.

He sighs, allowing himself to sink back into the uncomfortable pillow, starting to feel his eyes close again as the pain meds do their job. “I have to see Hailey.” He mumbles quietly.

Will taps Jay’s shoulder before sitting back down in the chair, noticing the tiredness coming over his brother again. “Once you’ve had a bit more rest,” he says, gaining an argumentative grunt from Jay in return. “We’ll get her up here for when you wake up again.”

There’s another complaining noise that comes from Jay as he tries to fight off the drowsiness but he doesn’t get the chance to voice his dissatisfaction over that before he’s out.

xxx

When he comes to again he’s still half-out if it, the pain meds still coursing through him, making everything hazy. He groggily looks around the recovery room he was still inside and sighs. All he wanted was his own bed at home, not the uncomfortable hospital bed with a needle stuck into the back of his hand. Although he was grateful for what the needle was doing to him, taking away most of the pain from earlier, so he guesses it can stay.

As his eyes travel around the room he spots a figure sat in the chair again and he doesn’t think too much of it until he realizes it wasn’t the figure that had been sat there what felt like moments before. He spots the loose blonde locks draped over her shoulders then notices the red cuts plastered up with steri-strips and bruises that littered her face. His heart sinks at the thought of her having to go through what he did, with the games and attacks, at the sight of what the offenders did to her too.

“Hey you.” She says through the small smile.

Jay was still half-asleep but he tries to mimic her expression, however he definitely doesn’t do it properly. “Hey.”

She stares to him for a moment before tilting her head to one side. “You look great.”

“I’ve looked better.” He says through a chuckle which he immediately regrets by the stiffness felt in his ribs.

“Actually I don’t know, I’ve kinda got used to you with all the cuts and scrapes. I think it suits you.”

Jay slowly shakes his head. “Well after these heal maybe I’ll get another set.”

Hailey let’s out a scoff, swiftly shutting down the idea. “Uh-uh.” She tuts.

They fall into a silence as Jay looks around the hospital room again. He puts his eyes on the pole sat beside his head, the one where the IV bag was hanging.

“Are you running low?” Hailey asks and he catches her slowly moving on the chair in the corner of his eye.

He looks back to her. “No, I don’t think so,” Jay replies, watching her sit herself back into the chair with a small grimace and his heart aches again. “You okay?”

Hailey nods, using her arms to sit herself up straight against the back of the chair instead, ditching the sliding back plan. “I should be asking you that question.”

Jay goes quiet again, watching her and he doesn’t notice how his face drops sadly but Hailey does, furrowing her eyebrows toward him.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” She asks and then Jay realizes the tears that had started stinging in his eyes.

He brings one of his hands up, the one that didn’t have the IV stuck into the dorsal side, and wiped his eyes, clearing his throat as he did and shaking her question off.

The more he sees her sitting there the more he thinks back to when he was lying on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse, that gunshot going off and ringing through his ears and that momentary dread he felt sit on his chest when he thought it was Hailey that had been hit.

Despite having just sat back, Hailey scoots forward again and leans toward the bed, grabbing hold of his free hand, lacing her fingers with his and the rule about keeping it professional at work - or anywhere else where one of their colleagues could walk in unannounced - flies out the window. “Jay, talk to me.”

His voice was dry and cracked and the multiple attempts to restore it back to normal doesn't work. “I don’t know, it’s stupid,” he sighs. “I thought it was you. When that gunshot went off, I thought it was you and I had just been stabbed but that didn’t bother me. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to carry on without you because I’m in love with you, Hailey, I have been for a long time and I don’t know what I would do without you,” he spills, not realizing what he had said until it was too late. He sees her reaction and his words play over in his head. They had only been dating a few months and he curses at himself for letting it blurt this early. “I didn’t actually want to say that to you for the first time in a hospital room. I’m so sorry if I overstepped.”

Hailey stops him before he could say anything else, squeezing his hand lightly as she slowly moved herself close enough to him. She ended up leaning over him on the bed, putting a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn’t anything more than that, it was intimate, delicate and it didn’t need to be anything more than that. After a beat she pulls away and looks past the bruises surrounding his eyes and scars scattered across his forehead and cheeks, moving past the evidence left behind from the events of today and just meets the gentle look in his eyes. “I’m in love with you too.”

taglist @5021ida @agnesgranberg97 @angelsjedi @anna-justice @benharmonsupremacy @fandomlife7 @natszyd @thedanishprince @who-am-i-58-13

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years

Text

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Epilogue

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The first couple of weeks following the incident that had taken my long-lost mother from me was misery in its purest form. Link and I didn’t speak, not even by phone, during that whole stretch of time. In fact, I could rarely bring myself to answer the phone at all. The memory was still too vivid, the wounds still too fresh.

He’d gotten off scot-free in the end as he’d been deemed to have acted in the defence of others—namely, of me. It wasn’t long before I learned of his plea, that if I hadn’t come along quietly, I would have suffered the same fate that he’d brought upon her, and they had believed him. How I felt about this was still something I was struggling to wrap my endlessly pounding head around.

As dark and deep as this seemingly bottomless pit of despair that I’d found myself plummeting down was, however, someone did eventually toss a rope down for me. The time I spent apart from Link gave me the opportunity to properly reconcile with those whom I myself had wronged: Auntie Purah and Paya. The former and I found comfort in our mutual grieving, and even as Paya had never really known my mother well enough to mourn her loss (though, arguably, it seemed no one had ever truly known her), she was more gracious and understanding than I or anyone else would have been, which only made me regret even more deeply my past transgressions toward her.

One day, during one of our continual conversations, she shifted to the topic of the Yiga leader’s executioner. How she could even think of him at a time like this was beyond me, but I digressed. I told her everything from start to finish. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to talk to anyone about it at length. As I spoke, she listened calmly and carefully. Despite what I’d have liked to believe, she had always been the more levelheaded one out of the two of us, save for when it came to discussing things about herself.

By the time I finished, I’d begun bouncing my still healing ankle back and forth, which I’d crossed over my other leg to keep it from touching the ground. I didn’t stop even after I noticed what I was doing.

“It’s painfully clear to see how conflicted you are about all this.” Coming to sit beside me on the sofa in the Sheikahs’ sitting room, Paya placed an affectionate palm on my thigh, bringing its restless jittering to a halt. “I understand how hard this must be for you. But the way I see it, there’s only one question you need ask yourself at the end of the day.”

Whatever she was about to say, it wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, would it? I straightened my posture. “And what would that be?”

“Between the two of them, who do you think was the better person?”

She was looking me dead in the eyes, her hand still resting upon my leg. I uncrossed them.

I’d never thought to compare the two before. What reason would I have had to do so? But now that she’d mentioned it, I hadn’t realized how few memories I even had left of my mother, and the ones that remained were blurry and vague beyond any hope of being recovered. If only she hadn’t left me with the Sheikahs all those years ago, maybe I could have remembered more clearly what kind of person she had been.

On the other hand, Link had always been there for me. Even during the times when circumstances had driven us apart, the thought of him was what had kept my flame burning strong and hot throughout each arctic day, and what had protected me from myself, keeping me from doing the irreparable. He had stayed by my side to the bitter end.

No matter how I’d reflected back on that day previously, the sight of his steely, focused stare and the sound of his crazed breaths, short and sharp, had been ever dominant. But now, I recalled the way those eyes had then glazed over with unadulterated horror. How his arms had shivered as they’d clung to my broken form and how they’d continue to cling for what would feel like millennia until the rest of his unit would finally stumble upon the scene.

My stepsister-of-sorts gave my leg a soft squeeze as I looked back at her with a tremor in my lip. “He s...saved me,” I whimpered. “Didn’t he?”

After a month apart, I made plans with Link for a night out on the pier, where we would celebrate the end of the Organization. The ice cream I’d promised him was at the top of my list of priorities for the evening. Tonight was a dessert-first night anyway, I’d decided. From there, we went and found ourselves a bite to eat at a seafood restaurant within walking distance. I’d hoped eating with him would feel like old times, but he hardly spoke a word throughout the whole meal. I tried lightening the mood with some banter, but this proved ineffective when he brushed off everything I said with mere one or two-word replies.

It wasn’t until I’d gotten us both a bit of something to drink that he finally broke the silence. “Have you...” he started, but lost the confidence to continue.

I perked up at the sound of his voice, wanting to hear more of it. “Have I...?”

“A-Ah...” His fingers poked at the copious amount of chips piled onto his plate next to the practically untouched fillet of fried fish. “I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what you’re going to do now, since...you know...you’re not a detective anymore.”

“Ah, right. That.” I took another sip of my drink, its contents long having fled my memory. “Actually, my auntie talked about it with me and she said she’d consider letting me inherit the company once I’ve acquired the proper education. So to answer your question, I’m thinking about going to school for engineering.”

His brows rose. “Oh! My, that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s brilliant. I’m happy for you.”

I thanked him with a hesitant grin, then asked, “How about you? Do you plan to stay on with the force, or...?”

“Ahh, well...” What little there’d been of an upward turn in his lips vanished. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It’s something I’ve been mulling over for a while now. Whether to stay on and honour my father’s work, or...whatever other options are available, I suppose.”

“Do you want to hear what I think?” He raised his head. “I think you should do whatever you think would make you happiest. That’s what you’re father would have wanted, I’m sure.”

This finally, finally, got a real, unsubdued smile out of him. And I intended to milk that smile for all it was worth.

After dinner, I dragged him back down to the arcade on the pier, where I managed to ring a few laughs out of him while we were still a bit tipsy. We steered clear of the toy gun target-type games, favouring other stands like the ring toss where he won me a plush frog that I could only just get my arms all the way around. His aim was spectacular, especially for someone who wasn’t entirely sober. Not only that, but I could never have imagined how sweet and charming he would be like this. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we’d gone back in time again. That, or the light from the setting sun was playing tricks on me.

But by the end of the evening, he’d reverted back to that quiet, reclusive version of himself that I’d quickly grown to detest. We were out on the docks now, facing the sea. The breeze carried a mist of saltwater within its bows. I breathed it in, soaking up the feeling of it hitting me softly and coolly in the face. A hint of pink in my partner’s cheeks caught my eye, and I wondered whether it was the cocktails or my arms, which were currently wound about his waist from behind.

“Beautiful sunset,” I tried, hoping I could get him to spare me a glance at least. “Isn’t it?” But to no avail. He only continued to gaze westward at the rippling flames reflected in the water. “Hey...” Before I knew what I was doing, my palm had found the warmth of his cheek, and there was hardly an inch or two of distance between the tips of our noses. Without giving myself time to think, I tilted my head, leaned in, and started to close my eyes.

But when I realized he wasn’t doing the same, I halted. On the contrary, he’d been leaning back and away from my advances, his back so rigid and shoulders so stiff it were as though he would sprout wings and bolt were I to make any sudden moves.

“What’s wrong?”

A harsh, jagged exhale. “Zelda, I just can’t—” He grabbed both my wrists and wrenched my arms off of him. “I’m sorry. We can’t do this.” He was bent over the railing, arms folded in on each other. “Not now,” he said, dwindling, “after I’ve gone and...murdered your only family.” A weary chuckle shook him by the shoulders before he raked his hands through his wind-tousled hair.

I fell into quiet thought for a moment. Then, taking a long, thorough breath, I placed a feather-light set of fingertips atop his own. “That woman was never my family.” I’d made up my mind. Figuratively or otherwise, my real mother had moved on a long time ago. And it was time I did the same.

Link must have seen the resolve in my eyes or heard it in my voice, because now he was looking back at me openly, his body turned to face me. Though there was still an air of uncertainty lingering about him as he ran the crease of his cuff between his fingers again and again. But when I brought my arms around him and held him close, he sank into my lips, returning my embrace at long last. A lone pair of tears fell from my eyes the moment they fluttered closed—a culmination of all past ordeals—and as they fell, I couldn’t help but smile.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelda pov #detective au

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24-guy · 3 years

Text

I spent 2 hours on writing notes from the prison podcast stream.

Now I don’t know what to do with them, so I’m putting them here.

No need to read them, there is just some interesting stuff I noticed, things like tones and how many times somethings are brought up.

if you do, though, I apologize for spelling errors.

start stream

techno "did the calculations" on how long it would take to mine obsidian with the amount of mining fatigue they had. we knoe this is true.

dream has been writing, it is the only thing hes been able to do with the limited items he has. its his "diary"

techno teases over fanfics on wattpad

"the only thing ive written is my diary" do the revive books not count, then? or what is in the revive books that isnt writing?

techno focuses on that nobody is watching - dream doesnt comment on it - dream doesnt know about the voices?

techno is supposed to break dream out, but he hasnt got many ideas "ill get to it later"

techno enjoys prison - sees it as a vacation

techno has an optimistic outlook.

go with the flow

dream sees harming himself as exhillerating techno disaprooves

dream tells techno quackity has been torturing him everyday. techno is only surprised by the every day part

dream mentions the revive book techno remembers being told about that asks "yeah you can bring people back from the dead. yeah so how do you do that" - curious tone, seems genuinely interested for innocent meanings dream responds " i have.. the knowledge and then i get a book and then i burn it" - hesitant at first, then vague but seemingly honest reponse

techno asks what the knowledge is, incantation/password/expelliarmus dream says "something like that" slowly, then quickly says he doesnt know and that he "doesnt know how schlatt had it" - going away from the topic original book - there are more than one it is a book is what youre saying - t well... i mean, it was a book that i memorised and that now i can recreate - d techno tries again to get the knowledge he wants to revive people dream doesnt want to tell techno because he wouldnt be the only one who knew techno tries to bargain saying that if dream died, techno coulld bring him bacl dream knows they wont kill him because he can revive people

dream says no, techno says "you forgot how to write it down didnt you dream says he didnt, that he did it recently, techno repeats again that dream forgot brings up wattpad again. dream says he wrote it down for tommy. he doesnt mention wilbur to techno. bring up the homeless situaation prison is dreams house cell is boiling apparently makes a joke about cali rent prices

nobody visited the cell "we stopped anarcy" "when we get out of here" no though ahead going into this situation (techno) "just as far as i need to" dream doesnt know what techno means by stream schedule, techno jokes about dream's lack of schedual techno usually trains always looking for new combat, reasearching constant arms race no idea when a government will arise or opressing people is always prepared has a good amount of gear he also plays golf somewhere offers a game with dream no way to describe it somewhere farther than his house

dream asks about tommy techno hasnt seen him canonically, only knows he stole acouple months ago - as far as he tells dream

dream asks about carl carl is doing well

dream asks about the family its doing good, apparently, new foxes, got steve who will break him out dream writes about steve "i will write evrrything down because its hard to remember" another fanfic joke

dream asks whos feeding them they feed themselves its probably fine

milld break for 4 wall break

gist or jist

prison podcast offers, agrees that is all this is

technical difficulties

podcast bros

eating potato

dream offers his thoughts on what would happen of he tried to revive somebody who is alive two technoblades human meat sheild

dream wants to try no death first what could go wrong nothing else to do

techno house is man vs nature conflict floor has ants floof brings ants spilled pet food dream has a revivebook techno tries to read it first hit with book a small wait throw into lava DreamXD joins broke the table fixed table a god dream "cloned himsef" god looks exactly like dream feels like a question to ask earlier dream summoned dreamxd ask for wish ask for bell dream gets mad because no escape dreamxd leaves sellout timer goes off techno makes money as dream questions his life dream sits in corner hole techno aims to be annoying we count channel members for a bit

dream and techno friend bonding time?

summons dreamxd for reviving nobody dream writes this in his diary as techno rings bell tries again, it doesnt work creative mode is a known thing by mortals they know how deadly it is

warden on vacation

techno hasnt written anything he has at least 4 books in his inventory, going from the top 2nd space to the top 5th space. the fourth book is called information and is signed by dream. dream throws a potato in the lava techno asks for the revive book again, this time to see of dreamxd will come back because it is a different person summoning him dream says no

techno needs a bell to sell out for the *brand*, ritual and tradition dream put the bell in church prime no twitch primes for dream - hes a heratic (no contract) dream makes no profit dream has lots of raw potatos for 5-6 months

techno asks if dream has any friends dream says not really, they turned against him techno knows the feeling being betrayed by closest friend happens every tuesday for techno

dream mentions being visited by a few people techno asks if any tried not to torture or kill him dream says yeah like he wasnt expecting the question/(as techno put it) "he hesitated"

sapnap - didnt torture or kill him - but he said if dream got out of there, then he would - techno says hes gotta raise his standards

bad - was the best - treated dream the best - techno says hes a cult leader - dream is surprised so techno tells him about the egg - techno wasnt clear - bad hasnt viseted since 4-5 months ago - techno says even he has friends - egg was attacked - big crossover episode not clear what is going on

techno - last time they saw each other was dooms day - been a while - lot has happened - techno doesnt now whats going on currently on the server - he knows nothing - "people" tell him who died and who came back

tubbo - asks about tubbo - tubbo is chillng - snowchester named - commune - a little sus - dictator - no rushing to conclusions - tubbo has nukes - big crater - a hoby - could be meteor

ranboo - asks about ranboo - ranboo is also chilling - brings up tubo's nukes now

dream points out that techno said he didnt know anyting and then said about a new place, nukes, and a lot more dream doesnt know anything - less than techno

ranboo (again) - dream says he used to visit a while ago and then stopped coming - techno asks "ranboo used to visit?" - ranboo visited "a bit" - probably visited the most - sapnap visited - tommy visited a couple of times - bad visited - and quackity - quackity visited the most, only because hes visited daily

more potatos pog potatos

ranboo (x3) - techno asks how dream knows ranboo - "um... its just a.. long story" - techno replies sarcastically about how they dont have any time to go through it, theyre so busy with the bell - dream "i dont know him very well. he just visited a few times and that was it." - techno just repeats alright, its either bored or thinking - dream "and then i havent seen him since then so thats why i was wondering where hes been, if hes been around" - techno " ah... im not sure. i havent been around fpr like the past couple of months, honestly."

techno went on atraining montage, played golf

dream asks about the plan to get out mining fatigue 3 doesnt mean they cant break blocks, its just approximately 370 times longer breaking obsidian takes a bit over 4 minutes math = obsidian block gone in 25.7 hours. an alarm break in the right spot break block in toilet elder guardian below the cell techno can take him if techno somehow dies dream brings him back could be out in 2 weeks havent been visited for 2 weeks nothing to lose dream has to break obsidian techno wants to end stream techno came up with idea so dream has to do it dream starts bell ringing for cheerng him on techno sounds happy that dream is doing it voices are mentioned - theyre laughing techno has perfect track of time techno is gonna annoy dream the entire time techno is a lookout there are only 4 books we only see the 4th name floof interrupts momentarily tommy killed a cat because dream liked it 300 dogs in the cell joke

channel member bell dream regrets his life again techo's plan? bell was a better investment dream has 10 bells in e chest techno doesnt techno wanted to go for more so techno could ring bell again

end of stream

#technoblade #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp techno #dsmp dream #dreamwastaken #prison podcast #dsmp prison #dsmp lore

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

more ways than one (01)

word count; 4951

summary; your first meeting with the stranger you rescued doesn’t go as smoothy as you’d hoped.

notes; I remind y’all that Stiles was possessed, but it veers off and it goes away, it’s not really mentions how, but the nogitsune never splits from Stiles. Allison is still alive, and Malia and Stiles are not a couple. Oh, and Derek is away travelling with Cora. That’s about it.

warnings; violence, choking, aggression.

You chewed on the straw in your mouth absentmindedly, your gaze trailing off into the distance as the girls talked constantly around you. You were vaguely following the conversation as they spoke, the girls chatting loudly about everything you had all been through lately, as though the supernatural was public information and they didn’t care about the opinions of those tables around you all who could easily eavesdrop if they bothered to listen closely.

Your eyes were squinted a little, the sun shining down and giving a warm feeling over the day, despite the storm that was due to set in later on in the day, and Lydia had texted you all this morning and told you to be ready to go for a late lunch while it was warm. She claimed that after everything that had happened with Stiles’ brief run-in with possession, and the year of supernatural crap that had gone down during your sophomore year, that you were all well overdue a lunch date to chat. That, and she was taking the opportunity to introduce Malia to the world of once again being bi-pedal and human.

Said strawberry-blonde snapped her fingers in front of your face, calling your attention to her and your thoughts snapped away from the nightmare you had somehow landed yourself in, your eyes focusing in on her as you pulled your milkshake away from your mouth, smiling as casually as you could as you looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed as she studied you carefully, before her lips were twisting up in a smirk.

“What’cha thinking about so hard there, girly?”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head and smiling casually as you lifted one of your fries to your mouth, chewing on the soft potato as you shrugged at her, trying your best to play it cool, but the four sets of eyes on you were throwing you through a loop. “Nothing.” You watched them carefully, swallowing the milkshake before taking a long sip of your milkshake, the chocolate flavour filling your mouth and she merely hummed, Allison was snickering as she turned to whisper to Kira, and Malia simply watched the interactions, taking the last bite of her double-cheeseburger and licking the sauce from the edge of her mouth, humming happily around the food.

“So, you’re not thinking about a pale and male-covered boy with brown hair and bright eyes?” You practically choked on your drink as Allison questioned you, your eyes wide as you wondered whether they’d found out about the lookalike you’d stashed at Derek’s loft, and you sputtered for an explanation, your cheeks heating up with a red flush, Kira cracking up and slapping the huntress on the arm as the two curled into each other in a fit of giggles.

“She’s totally thinking about Stiles, look at her blushing!”

You felt relief seep into your body as the tension slipped away, your body slumping in the seat as you rolled your eyes, your racing heart calming as your secret remained safe, for now. “Wait, am I missing something? Why would I be thinking about Stiles?”

Lydia picked at her acrylic nails, not even bothering to look up at you as she spoke. “Maybe because you’re totally into each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. You know the two of you have gotten super close, lately!” Allison insisted, and your brows rose as you glanced around the other girls, and Lydia mumbled her agreement as she sipped at her water, a half-eaten salad sitting in front of her.

“When I first met you guys, I thought you were together,” Kira added, and you rolled your eyes, nibbling on your lower lip as embarrassment flooded through your system, the copy-cat male you’d hidden away yesterday slipping from your mind as thoughts of the original filled your thoughts. You loved your best friend, you truly did, and you couldn't deny how much closer you’d gotten to him lately, but it was only because he’d come to you when he started to feel the effects of his possession, confiding in you long before anyone else had. “I think you’d be cute together.”

“Are they not together?” Malia muttered, looking intently at the uneaten food on your plate, and you giggled as you offered it up to her, a bright smile taking over his face as she accepted the plate ad placed it down on top of her own empty one, quickly tucking into your leftover food.

“C’mon girls, he’s totally in love with Lyds, since like third grade. You know this, he’s not exactly subtle.” You teased, knowing it was true. The boy spoke about her all the time, and while he hadn't quite been as vocal about it, you knew he was still pining for the red-head girl.

“Everyone’s a little bit in love with me, but not everyone holds hands with their best friend.” You snorted unattractively, giving her a side-eye and leaning back, your legs crossing proudly as you thought about it.

“When have I ever held hands with Stiles?”

“Uh, like six times over the past three months?” Kira objected, the others all making various sounds of agreement as you watched Malia finish your meal too, a proud smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair, legs parted and hands sitting on her stomach as she groaned happily at the feeling of having a full stomach.

“Three of those times he was unconscious, one of those times he was going into a bathtub full of ice and one of those times he was checking into a nuthouse.” You pointed out, and the banshee counted them off on her fingers, wiggling a finger at you as she smiled.

“That makes five, what about the sixth time?”

You shrugged, deciding to bait them a little, a sigh falling from your lips. “You’re right, me and Stiles are totally and madly in love. You caught us out.” Their jaws dropped as they leaned forwards, a collection of squeals sounding as you tried to keep a straight face, eventually cracking up, and one by one they caught on as they scowled at you, Allison flicking you in the arm and Lydia pinching the other one, and you jumped away from both of them, rubbing your arms as you all but cackled at having fooled them.

The conversation moved on as they began to focus on other things, and you pulled your phone from your pocket, two messages flashing up on the screen and you clicked on the first, rolling your eyes as you opened the message from Stiles.

[batman 🦇💛] bring me ur leftover pizza back from lunch?

can’t, malia ate it, whoops x

[batman 🦇💛] >:( I can’t believe this, does 12yrs of friendship mean nothing to u?!

You grinned, rolling your eyes and tuning out the taunts and whistles you got from the group around you as they realised you were texting your best friend, your fingers flying over the screen as you typed out your reply, checking the time before you did.

according to the girls, it means we r in love x

[batman 🦇💛] ha. funny. ive seen u eat sand. couldnt kiss u now.

shut up, dumbass. I was 6 and u dared me x

[batman 🦇💛] kinda sad to kno the girl i'm in love w/ thinks i love u but that's my luck.

You cooed, rolling your eyes and promising that you’d text him later as you swiped out to the other text, your stomach churning as you realised it was from Derek. Admittedly, he was only asking about his loft, and whether you’d been over to check everything was okay, but it still made guilt twist at your guts before you sent a half-true reply, choosing instead to cover up the real facts.

Instead, you chose to tell him that you had definitely been over to check and that everything was tip-top okay, neglecting to tell him that you were stashing a supernatural double of your best friend only two weeks after he was mysteriously possessed and released, and that he was cut up and injured and arrived from a weird storm. Minor details.

Clearing your throat, you pulled out a handful of notes from your purse, placing them down in the amount that you owed as you excused yourself from the table, balancing the strap of your bag on your shoulder and smiling at the complaints of your friends as they encouraged you to stay, but it was already nearing the late afternoon and early evening, and you needed to grow the courage to return to the scene of your crime.

The pharmacy was only a quick walk around the corner, and you’d made sure to park your car outside of it so that none of them would see you leaving and entering the building with a suspicious amount of medical supplies, and you pulled the crumpled paper with your list pulled on out of your pocket. Smoothing the crumpled item out in the palm of your hand, the bell above the door jingled, the air conditioning washing over you immediately and you shivered at the sudden temperature drop upon entering the shop.

Peering at your own writing, you smiled uneasily at the cashier who was watching you, a kid who’d graduated just a year or two earlier, and her eyes narrowed on you as you moved through the shelves. Plucking one of the plastic shopping baskets from the side, you held it carefully in your arms, avoiding their scrutinising gaze.

Paper Stitches.

Your eyes scanned over the shelf, a surprising number of options displayed before you, and even the first option was already showing you the impact that this little shop was going to have on your bank account, and you simply prayed it would be worth it. Taking the largest size and strongest strength in your hand, you shrugged to yourself, dropping it into the basket and scanning the other ones. You could always pick up another size of you needed them, but you were definitely going to need at least two boxes of these ones for now.

You couldn't help the scowl on your face as the sum total began to add up in your mind, moving along the aisle to the wrapping sand covers,

Bandages. Gauze.

There were far too many options of bandages and covers, a jumble between compression wraps, light and thick material covers and thick and padded gauze. You could barely tell the difference between any of the options, and you began to think that maybe you should have paid a little more attention to the quick google search you’d done earlier as to what you actually needed.

First up, a collection of thick, cotton wool paddings to place over the large gashes the man had obtained, followed by gauze and bandages, a hand rubbing over your forehead as the collection began to gather up in the bottom of the basket. Your fingers brushed over the rolls of medical tape, and you dropped a roll of that in too, knowing you’d need something to fasten the material to his torso with.

You skirted around the corner to the next set of shelves, your cheeks flaring in a blush as you caught the suspicious gaze she was giving you, and you cleared your throat, holding your head high as you ignored the judgement hanging on her sights.

Antiseptic Wash. Hand Sanitizer. Cotton Balls.

100 cotton balls in a bag for three dollars felt like a good enough offer for you, and you dropped it into the basket, humming to the tune playing over the radio above your head as you swiped a large bottle of antiseptic wash from its place, and finally, a few of the small bottles of hand sanitizer, because you’d been needing some more of that anyway.

You hadn't quite been ready for the odd glare the ex-peer had given you when you placed the basket on the counter, and her eyes moved slowly between the items and your eyes, a sarcastic smile on her lips as she slowly began to ring them up, placing them all in a paper bag for you and ensuring they would all fit.

In a bid to avoid the wight of her stare fixed on you, you let your eyes scan over the ‘last-minute-purchase’ options on the counter, adding a packet of strawberry bubblegum to the collection and she scanned it through, reading your total to you and you jammed the card into the reader, wincing at the price that was displayed on the small screen. Your fingers punched into the buttons as you bit your tongue, taking the card and the bag as soon as you could and you darted from the shop, barely pausing to take your receipt from her as you fled.

Placing the stuffed paper bag on the shotgun seat, you rounded the car, letting out a deep sigh as you strapped into the seat and stuck your keys into the ignition. Digging into the bag beside you, you fished out the bubblegum, taking a stick from the packet and unwrapping it, popping it into your mouth and letting the chewing motion and sweet flavour soothe you as you started up the car and began the well-ingrained journey to the loft, anxiety riddling your body.

The radio played quietly in the background as you made your way along, the only sounds filling the car being that of the quiet hum of the latest chart-toppers, and the occasional pop of the bubblegum in your mouth. You weren’t really too sure why you were still keeping this secret from everyone, you had the perfect chance at lunch to tell the girls about what had happened, to get help and confide in someone.

Stiles.

Deep down, it was about protecting Stiles. The ripples on the surface of the water had only just smoothed back down, and you weren’t willing to throw the next stone in a situation that you were absolutely certain you could handle yourself. How dangerous could someone who was 147 pounds and unconscious be?

That was the only thought that was strong enough to force you up and out of the car, your feet carrying you forwards as you unlocked the main door, clicking it shut behind you as you made your way toward the stairs, choosing to walk all the way up to the top instead of taking the rickety elevator. You could use the time to calm yourself down, work out what you were going to do if the stranger you were harbouring was now awake.

Your hands were shaking so much that the keys were jingling as you walked, and you clenched them in a fist, taking a deep breath as you reached the final level and pausing before the silver metal door. With a deep sigh, you unlocked it carefully, sliding it out of the way and looking inside carefully. Natural light was flooding in through the huge bay windows at the other end, the concrete room lit up with warm light that almost made the monochrome grey space look welcoming, and your eyes zeroed in on the space that had once occupied that man you had rescued.

Nothing seemed out of place, the room wasn’t trashed and rummaged through, and everything was still and calm as you took a first cautious step inside. By the second step, you were sliding the door shut behind you, your brows furrowing. By the third step, a cold hand was sealed tightly around your throat, pinning you up to the wall as the tips of your toes brushed the ground.

The bag in your arms fell away, the items within it scattering across the floor as you squeaked, coming up to grab at the wrist holding you so tightly to the wall as you struggled to drag in any breath at all, your gaze meeting the furious one of the face you knew so well on the person you didn’t know at all. Those familiar honey-brown eyes were scanning over you interrogatively, and the long fingers wrapped around your throat flexed, tightening for a second before you were released, and you fell to your knees, eyes watering as you took in burning breaths, rubbing soothingly at the skin on your throat as the man merely stood and watched you for a second, before spinning on his heel and walking away.

You watched him go, shaking your head as he stormed away, and once your breathing had finally calmed and your heart had stopped racing so had on your chest that you thought it may burst out, you began to slowly gather up the items you had dropped, stuffing them all haphazardly back into the now torn paper bag and standing it up. Sitting on your knees, you took a moment to gather yourself, your eyes locking with the narrowed brown ones watching you, goosebumps rising over your body and you tried to seem strong, not to let him know quite how terrified you really were, as you took the back, standing on unsteady legs and holding your head high as you stared him down.

Making your way over to him, you placed the bag down in front of him, raising your brows as you moved slowly, the warning growl in his throat being acknowledged as you held up your hands, palms out to him to show you meant no hard, despite the fact that he'd attacked you only moments prior. Instead, you slowly tipped the bag upside down, allowing all the contents to spill out across Derek’s plain black coffee table, the man’s eyes scanning over it all, his face twisted in confusion as he looked at each item.

You stood with him in silence for a moment, letting him look at all the items, before he was stepping away from you, a snarl on his lips as he moved as far back as he could while still being able to watch your movements, track what you were doing. With a heavy sigh, you backed away yourself, never taking your eyes off of him out of fear of what he might do once you did, and for each step backwards you took, he moved forward one, and you slowly guided him toward the kitchen.

He lingered in the doorway as you moved around, never taking your eyes off of him for more than a split second as you searched through his drawers and cupboards, a small sound of victory leaving you once you found something you could work with, and you slipped two packets of the instant-noodles from the collection, dropping them on the counter as you continued your hunt on your meal-making task.

He flinched each time a pot or pan clashed, his eyes once again narrowing menacingly, and you had to suppress a chuckle because it was no longer focused on you, but instead on the source of the loud sounds, as he glared at a frying pan that had shifted and fallen loudly on another one. Selecting a pan big enough for the job, you quickly filled it with water from the tap, deciding that using the hob was definitely the safest bet, as you worked with this. Tearing open each packet, you held it up to show him as you watched on curiously, and you dropped the solid blocks of noodles into the water, waiting for it to begin to bubble over the flame.

There was nothing in the fridge that you could use, he’d gotten rid of everything perishable before going away, and you made a mental note to buy food, your heart once again sinking at the savings-draining task you had taken on. Maybe if you told Lydia, she’d give you her card and allow you to pay using her platinum, but you highly doubted you’d get away with telling her now without having to endure a long sit down talk and a lot of disappointed looks, which you weren’t ready to deal with. Lydia Martin could be scary when she wanted to be.

The silence hung heavily in the room between the two of you, and you tried to school your face into a stoic expression, despite the stormy scowl that was being directed at you, his body shuffling as you looked at him, his shoulders rolling from the discomfort of his injuries and he looked like he was going to try and dash at any moment. Taking two dishes from the lower cupboard beside your legs, you placed them out on the table gently, a fork beside each one and you stirred the noodles, the pasta soft and flimsy as it circled around, the savoury smell filling the air and you quickly dished up the food after switching off the hob, placing a fork in one bowl and pushing it across the countertop toward him.

He stepped forward as you took a seat on one of the stools, and you watched as he lifted up the instrument, pushing the pasta around the dish, a growl leaving him as he dropped the fork back into the bowl with a clatter, and you raised your eyebrows as you ate your own food, fixing him with a judgemental look and shaking your head. He used a single, skinny finger to push the bowl toward you roughly, some of the soup sloshing over the side and you let out a sigh, continuing to eat your food as he glared at you.

You had never felt quite so intimidated while in the presence of a bowl of noodles, and had you been anywhere else, in any other situation, you might have found this situation funny, perhaps even laughed at it, but right now, you worried you may actually choke on the noodles from stress. When you finally finished, and he was still twitching from foot to foot in front of you, his nervous shuffling giving you anxiety, too.

“What? You don’t eat, then?” He merely snarled at you, despite the rumbling in his stomach as the delicious smell drifted through the air and you raised a brow at him, shrugging and taking the bowl, his eyes watching as you snatched the food from in front of him. You made sure to make a show of tipping it into the garbage disposal, his eyes watching as the food slipped away into the drain and his jaw tightened, twitching as he ground his teeth together, his body jerking in shock as you slammed your hand down on the button on the wall and the loud grating filled the room, before you finished it, a smug look on your face as you cleared the dishes into the sink to clean later.

He stalked from the room as you did, his nostrils flaring at your actions and you wanted to stomp your foot on the ground and groan, but instead, you merely clenched your fists by your sides, following after him as he whipped his head around to see you following him, choosing to make his way over to the couch and poke through the items spilt out on the coffee table.

He picked up the bag of cotton wool balls, looking at them curiously before dropping them and you cleared your throat, his hard gaze directed back to you as you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. “Those wounds on your back are bad, you should let me take a look at you.”

He blinked at you, twice, eyes wide and his face didn’t move, giving you no indication that he was actually understanding a thing you were saying and you took cautious and slow steps toward him, his body tensing up as you did and you plucked the item from his hands, meeting little resistance as you held it up.

“These are for cleaning the wounds. On your shoulders?”

You placed the item down, motioning to your own shoulders as you tried to make him understand, and he twitched at the motion, his features falling from their hard glare a little his eyes softening and he swallowed thickly, his gaze dropping from yours for just a moment as he adjusted his arms. A wince was clear on his face as he moved his arms back, his lips parting and a quiet groan left him.

Your own shoulders slumped as you watched him, and you picked up another couple of items, deciding to offer him a small smile as you held it up, jiggling the packages before him, and the crinkling caught his attention. “These are for wrapping and padding the cuts, because those are really bad, and they’ll get infected.”

He pursed his lips, but for once they weren’t fixed in a heavy scowl and you felt as though perhaps you were making some kind of progress with him. Placing them down, you moved through the rest of the items, lifting each one slowly and telling him what it would be used for, only receiving the same blank looks and lonely silence as he stood before you, his gaze flicking over both you and the room multiple times. Despite the lack of verbal confirmation, you were choosing to believe that he understood you, because his posture had loosened, his body slumping forward a little and he seemed a little less like he was preparing to fight for his life at every turn of events.

It wasn’t until you’d finished talking to him and moved toward him that his defensive stance returned to him. He jerked aggressively away from you as you took a step toward him, and you lifted your hands, reaching out to him carefully as you motioned towards his back. “Let me take a look at your injuries!”

He stepped back again, his legs hitting the edge of the couch and he went rigid as you closed in on him, a low growl sounding from his throat, the noise rumbling from his chest in a warning and his eyes were practically burning with rage, his anger having built in seconds and your jaw dropped.

“We just talked about your injuries! I told you what I need to do!”

You tried one final time, reaching for him carefully and he took your wrist in his hand squeezing so tightly that your knees buckled as you released a cry, and he growled once again, this time predatory, as if to tell you to back off or it would get worse. Then, he was using his grip on you to push you back as you stumbled over your own feet, just about stopping yourself from tripping up and falling on your ass.

“Fine!” You snapped, your arms flying out to your sides as you shouted at him, and his eyebrows raised at your increase in volume, his eyes wide as he watched you, your own jaw clenching and you pointed at him angrily. “Go ahead, die of fuckin’ osteomyelitis for all I care!”

Your cheeks were flushed, and you fixed him with the harshest glare you could, before letting out a deep sound of anger, a groan that rippled through your body as you threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to calm yourself down. Taking a series of deep breaths, you calmed your racing heart and the heat that was curling up your cheeks died down.

You mumbled curses under your breath, turning back to him to find him staring at you intently still, and you ran a hand through your head, grimacing as the tension in the air hung thickly. “Look, I’m going to go and get some warm water, we really need to sort out those gashes or you’re going to get really sick.”

You nodded at him, hoping that he understood before you were rubbing your hands together and turning on your heel, making your way into the kitchen. Fishing out a fresh bowl, you turned on the tap, running the water over the inside of your wrist to test the temperature, and when it became too hot for the skin there, you knew it was the perfect temperature. Gathering enough in the bowl, you placed it on the side, searching through the drawers for some clean rags.

When you first heard the metal of the door sliding, your brows furrowed, and it took a second before the realisation of what that particular grinding of metal meant, your eyes widening and you squeaked, dropping the material on your hands as you dashed from the kitchen, your eyes scanning over the empty loft area and your heart raced, bile rising in your throat as you guts twisted. “Shit!”

Your eyes focused on the open loft door, and you ran towards it, your feet moving quickly down the stairs as your tried not to fall, your blood pounding in your ears and you let out a panicked and frustrated yell as you noticed the main door now hanging open too, his taller stature and head-start ensuring you wouldn’t catch up to him even with his injuries, the area surrounding the loft still and empty, as though he had just disappeared.

Your legs buckled under you as the consequences began to run through your mind. Worry, fear and anger flooded your system as you kicked at a rock on the ground, tears lacing your eyes from the overwhelming floods of emotion bubbling over inside of you as you tried to work out what the fuck you were going to do now.

The sun was almost setting, dark clouds moving in over the sky and threatening to break at any time as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking screwed.”

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pikemoreno · 4 years

Text

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter IV: Plan B and Other Messes

a/n: this is my favorite so far, but it’s only gonna get better from here!

taglist is open if you’d like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you aren’t on there and would like to be. :’)

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

If this plan was foolproof, you were all worse than fools.

It had started fine. It had been more than a week since the disastrous failure that was Plan A, and you spent the week doing some reconnaissance to keep Wendy’s brief interaction with Adrian on the top of her mind.

On Tuesday, you had asked her again about the elevator incident, stating: “Wow, that must’ve been scary. Did you have someone with you? I don’t think I remember.” She responded that there had been and that he was “nice.”

On Wednesday, you had asked her if she had caught the name of the “mystery man” in the elevator. Did he work in the building? What department? Was he cute? She had said that she “Didn’t catch his name or his department, but… Yeah, he was alright, I guess.” Not a lot to work from, you lamented, but it was a start. You told her you’d see what you could find out and she groaned, telling you not to get into it, that she was fine. If only she knew how late she was on that sentiment.

On Thursday, you had taken the day off from bothering her about it. After all, you couldn’t make it seem like you found out everything about him in a day. Because that would have just been absurd.

Today-- Friday-- you spilled all of your “research” to her: name, age, department, and the information that he’d been “asking about her too”-- ignoring the fact that that was only true because Marcus had been giving him the same treatment you were giving Wendy this week. Her eyes lit up a little at hearing she’d been asked about too, and you knew you had her hook, line, and sinker.

You met Marcus outside on your lunch break to debrief and discuss the finale of Plan B, sitting on a wooden-slatted bench with him underneath the slowly changing leaves of the trees in the courtyard. While an uncharacteristically cool breeze blew by, you were starting to decide that if you could just get Wendy and Adrian to this point right here, that would be enough to bring them together. It was a quiet and secluded place, a blessed change from the chaos of work on the other side of those glass double doors in the distance. There was something undeniably romantic about it all.

With the right person to share it with, of course.

This wasn’t a romantic exchange. It was planning, organizing, talking about another’s romance, and never your own. There was absolutely nothing inherently romantic about this, certainly nothing in the way he smiled at you from the corner of his eye as you talked about how the week had gone with Wendy. There was nothing in the way you admired the light in his eyes when he grinned and how they crinkled when he laughed and nothing in the way you wanted to make sure he laughed every single day.

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

This whole thing was about Wendy, not you. And certainly not Marcus.

“So, what’s the plan for this evening?” His question brought you out of your daze.

“Umm,” you cleared your throat, re-gathering yourself as you poked at your lunch with your fork. “We’re gonna text them both separately to meet us at Copper Coin for coffee. We won’t be there when they arrive. We’ll be twenty minutes late and hope that they’ve decided to sit together in that time. If they haven’t, we’ll make sure they do,” you shrugged.

“Right,” he nodded, and you returned it. Silence overtook the moment, but not in the serene way it had previously. This was decidedly more awkward. You were back in your head, doing the mental calculations of why and how there was nothing at all romantic about your friendship with Art Squad over here. That’s all it was; that’s all he was. You vaguely heard him call your name-- your real name.

“Hm?” you blinked, looking back to him.

“Where’d you go?” he murmured quizzically, his eyes searched your face in a way that undid all of the mental calculation you just went through.

“What? Nowhere. Anyway,” you stood quickly, gathering your stuff, “See you later.” You couldn’t ignore the feeling of his curious eyes still on you as you walked away.

This was not happening.

You’d be lying if you said that lunchtime exchange wasn’t at the forefront of your mind for the rest of the work day... And as you drove to the coffee shop… And now that you were sitting across from Marcus yet again, waiting on Wendy and Adrian, who still had yet to show up after the predetermined twenty minutes you were giving them before sitting inside the mahogany-saturated, hipster’s paradise yourselves.

Plan B was most certainly not foolproof, and the four of you were the grandest of fools. Where could they be?

“They’re gonna walk in and think we’re the ones on a date,” Marcus quipped as he took a sip of his drink. You almost spit yours out from the surprise of the comment, but couldn’t help the huff of laughter.

“Oh, if Wendy walked in and thought I was on a date with a guy like you, she would probably cry tears of joy.”

“What does that mean?” You missed the warm pink take over the skin of his neck at what he was hoping was a compliment.

A guy like him?

How did you see him?

“My recent track record is not great,” you stated, running a finger around the rim of your drink, “I would go on a couple of dates with someone. Never let it go anywhere. Decline any attempt to make it exclusive. Get the hell out of there. Rinse and repeat.”

“Why do you think that is?”

You were making him nervous. It was pretty obvious to him now that he was starting to be interested in you beyond just being a work friend helping him with a “project”. But hearing your hesitance to commit in the past made his heart sink. He knew too well the feeling of being the one more invested in the relationship, of scaring someone off by going all in. He couldn’t let himself fall into that again with you. He’d have to force himself away, push down what was threatening to blossom.

“Afraid of getting hurt, I guess. I’ve seen a lot of committed relationships around me fail. People falling out of love. I don’t want that.” You shrugged.

“That’s a very reasonable fear.”

“Exactly. So I’m just… Waiting I guess. Wendy sees it as me just having commitment issues. I don’t have commitment issues per se. I just haven’t really found anyone worth committing to yet.”

“I’m afraid I have the opposite problem.” You tilted your head, questioning, and he continued, “I haven’t found anyone worth committing to, but I don’t realize it until it’s too late.” he sighed, “I was that one teenager who had one steady girlfriend from eighth grade all the way through high school and never looked at anyone else-- probably for the best, I was kind of a dork,” he laughed despite himself and you joined. It fizzled sadly, “But anyway. Everyone thought we were gonna be together forever. And I started to think so too after, you know, five years. I had it all planned out by the time we got to senior year. We wanted to go to the same college. We’d date through college, I’d propose on our graduation day... We didn’t make it past senior prom. She had disappeared for a while, and I found her in a supply closet with another guy.” You couldn’t help but gasp a little. He continued “Then I still got married pretty young, not long out of college,” he shook his head, seemingly to clear out the emotions that reared their ugly heads for what was obviously the first time in a while. You wanted him to know he didn’t have to explain himself to you.

“Marcus, don’t--” you tried to stop him.

“I was ‘too much’ for her.” You froze at the admission. His mouth contorted into a frown that didn’t suit him at all. “I’m still not sure I know what she meant by that,” he laughed humorlessly, “Guess I cared too much? Who knows. She divorced me, and that was that.” You both looked down to find that you’d put your hand on his. There was a part of you-- maybe more than a part, really-- that decided that what he was saying sounded nice. That he would be a blessed change from relationships that never lasted longer than a month and whose conversations never reached the level of depth that you were already experiencing with Marcus after just the couple of weeks you’d known him. You breathed, letting your hand stay resting on his as you spoke truly.

“What you said was right. Neither of them were worth your commitment. I’ve seen your commitment to someone who’s just a work friend, and I can’t imagine anyone not wanting that in their life. They couldn’t have been worth your time.” His thumb reached up to brush against the side of your hand. “I would--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence upon looking at the cafe door to find Wendy finally walking in.

If only you knew that Marcus was holding his breath waiting for the end of the statement, hoping to hear you say that he might be worth that commitment.

“There’s Wendy now.” Your hand left his as you got up to meet her, and Marcus found himself immediately missing the contact and entirely unsure of what just happened.

“An hour late? Where have you been?” you laughed as Wendy met your eyes excitedly.

“You’ll never guess what just happened,” she practically squealed in response, yet not answering your question.

“Probably not. Go for it.”

“I got my rebound!” You blinked.

“You-- What?”

“So right before you left the office, I received a tip on a case from the Elisabet Ney Museum. They had some priceless jewelry of hers on display. Only supposed to be up for a week. Family heirloom. It’s on display for two days before it turns up stolen. But get this: the bust of hers it was on was also stolen. Meaning this case also falls under the jurisdiction of the Art Squad. I figured ‘Hey, the more, the merrier,’ so I hopped on down to the 6th floor to talk to them about a team-up and guess who I ran into?” Your eyes widened, finally getting the point of the story.

“Adrian.”

“Adrian!” she nearly squealed again, talking a mile a minute. “So anyway, we’re gonna be teamed up on that next week.” You subconsciously shot a glance over to Marcus. Having to work a case with him? After the day you just had? “But the crazy part is that I started talking to Adrian and he’s so great, you know, now that I’m not freaking out in an elevator. Turns out he’s a recent dumpee too, and we’re gonna go out tomorrow night. Oh, and we might’ve made out in the supply closet.” The words of that last part all ran together as she tried to play it off nonchalantly. You let your mouth hang open in the flurry of words and admissions that came far too quickly for you to process fully.

“Wow. That’ s-- That’s great! I told you he was worth looking into,” you smiled weakly, trying to get over the newest developments in this absolutely ridiculous story. “So, this case? Starting next week?”

“Monday morning, bright and early. Hey, didn’t you say you had a friend on Art Squad? The one who gave you a ride that one day? That’ll be fun, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” You caught Marcus’s eye, and your face must have betrayed just how exasperated and confused-- and… relieved?-- you felt because the look he shot back to you was full of concern. Everything was somehow simplified and complicated in one fell swoop.

Plan B: Success? You guess?

forever taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dindjarindiaries @absurdthirst @roxypeanut @fioccodineveautunnale @dirty-dancefl00r5 @starryeyedstories @buckysalefty @wickedfrsgrl @the-feckless-wonder

#marcus pike x reader #bri writes #iyewbil

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melforbes · 3 years

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seaglass blue annotations

hello! i just posted the last chapter and thought i’d put together some ~fun context~ for that fic. it got way way more attention than i ever expected and for something i feel i didn’t put that much effort into i think i did in the end put a lot of effort into it so i might as well talk about it and answer some potential questions.

my favorite book of all time is the sunlit night by rebecca dinerstein (yes, that one) and something i find really compelling about that book is how sparing the prose is, forcing the reader to fill in certain gaps, and i think having to fill in those gaps makes the book a really acquired taste with which either you love it or hate it and there’s not really an in-between

i also really adore how in that book the natural world backdrop comes to life, something i find really challenging to write. recently i even read into thin air, the book about the 1996 mount everest disaster, and even though the writing was superb, i still had to google what the hillary step was because i couldn’t picture it on my own. i don’t know how people write nature because to me it feels damn near impossible, but this sparing approach really worked, so i thought i might try it out. i tend to be longwinded (gestures vaguely at this post) and wanted to have certain parts of this be a lot smaller and more contained without negating impact. whether or not i made it work is anyone’s guess. definitely not my normal style, so to speak

based on the comments i’ve received i think this might be everyone’s favorite part. in my mind age of consent by new order was playing in the background. in pretty much every fic i have a scene like this one and all of them are based on the poem first base gold by rh*annon mcg*vin from her book branches (censored because she has a tumblr and i don’t want her seeing this haha)

i absolutely can’t do the poem justice by describing what it’s about, but the simplest, most basic interpretation of the poem is that there is no better place to kiss than right here, right now, because of the past. i really like that imagery and tend to use it a lot. she as a writer has been a big inspiration for me and if you’ve read my fic true minds i should add that the nonfiction inspiration for that was directly as a result of one of her youtube videos. i particularly love how the last paragraph (stanza? im not a poet) is one big run-on sentence that’s jovial and tongue-in-cheek and colloquial and straightforward. it feels triumphant in a quiet way to me and i love how it’s done. obviously my attempts at something similar are nowhere near as insightful, but still, the most basic image of this is that there is no better place to kiss, and that’s how i felt about the two of them finding pudding in the supermarket

this part is autobiographical; while writing this last year, i went through six months of intravenous drug treatment, a month and a half of which involved long days of doctor visits on every weekday. when you’re on stuff like that for a long time you end up with a central line for better access (potential plot hole in all of this: scully never had one) but for a month and a half i got poked almost every day and strangely enough it got harder over time. the first couple you never feel, but a week or two later you start flinching, and if the needle goes in the same vein each time, it hurts the more it gets prodded. i reached a point toward the end of the in-office visits in which i would bleed a lot every time i got poked, and i can’t watch anything like that happen to me so i was looking away each time, and when i felt that the nurse was done, i would look back over, and sometimes i would be looking down at a pool of blood that i hadn’t expected to see. it’s weird, you don’t actually feel yourself bleeding, i would’ve expected a hot bloody feeling but instead it felt like nothing. and when i say a pool i mean that it would drip down beneath my elbow, stain the sheet they’d put underneath, and i wouldn’t get all of it off until i showered. i didn’t necessarily find it scary, but it was surreal and kind of pulled me out of normalizing the experience i was having. for a very long time needing iv drugs was my greatest fear and i was surrounded by that then and fine, and then, there was blood all over my arm, and like, haha, this is actually not fine. you’d think something else would’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t. and now looking back at this paragraph i wish i’d edited it differently but hey that’s life

i’d never really understood the purpose of religion as a self-driven part of life until i took anatomy in college. i was raised catholic and though culturally i understand having a religion and being raised with one, i’ve never really reached for religion when i wanted answers, and i haven’t personally understood why that’s someone’s first option. and i know there’s been plenty of commentary on the hypocrisy of dana scully as a catholic who believes in science, yada yada yada, i think everyone has read all of that by now. but what struck me while learning anatomy is that there is a kind of neuron we don’t know the function of. there are four kinds of neurons, and one of them is still a mystery to us. and then, there’s all of these different parts of human bodies that exist in a certain perfect way, but why do they exist like that? to support life, yes, but why is it that we can make comparisons? why were irises not the same color? and we name valves of the heart after religious figures. we are so hell-bent on meaning that something literal will never be enough. and all of that made me think that dana scully has god to fill in what science won’t answer, at least not yet. and there’s definitely a bigger conversation about science as denial of indigenous cultures that i am nowhere near qualified to start. after taking those classes, i think i would be more shocked if she wasn’t religious. you can ignore pretty much all of the paragraph above but it was important to me that at some point in this fic she willingly conceded that she didn’t know what would happen and that she didn’t have answers. with illness, there is no logic, there’s no thinking your way out of it, and i think that would plague her for a long time. to me, she only would accept her death when she could say she had no idea what would happen, she has no answers, there’s nothing filling in her gaps anymore, and she’s comfortable with that. and i put all of that in a paragraph about my thoughts on god because it made sense to me. there are times that just feel like you’re in a movie and there’s no one else you can say caused them. it’s not enough to build belief on but it’s enough to bring a certain kind of wonder. also one time my parents insisted on watching stripes because it was so funny and when watching it none of us found it funny at all and my parents grimaced and were like what were we on that made that good back in the day so that’s in here now haha

and now, the biggest question: does she die at the end? when i came up with the idea for this fic, i knew the beginning and ending but not the middle, and i posted this as a smaller project (ie: chapters below 3,000 words) while illness made my bigger projects harder to work on and essentially flew by the seat of my pants the whole time. i wrote the last line a long long time ago and have always seen the ending as written as the concrete ending. when i started writing this, i never intended for there to be a definitive answer to whether or not she dies. i like premature endings (the ending of girls burn brighter comes to mind) and i think that this works better without saying whether or not she lives. and i also have a hard time with giving a definitive answer because this fic very much is about death and having her die would, of course, be traumatic, but showing her living instead i think ruins any takeaways people could have. i’ve never had cancer but as a chronically ill person i think i can speak to how you never actually win with illness; the best you can do is tie, and sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, you “lose” anyway, you lose spectacularly, and all of your effort was for nothing. i wholeheartedly believe that humans can’t emotionally or logically process natural disasters or illness, hence why much of the talk about illness in this is from mulder’s perspective as he experiences her terminal illness secondhand; that way, he doesn’t need to (but still likely will) find logic or reason or meaning for death from a terminal illness, so his discoveries and his coping mechanisms aren’t as urgently needed. had i written a chapter that describes how she lives, i think that the discussion of death in this would be voided altogether. and i also don’t believe the ending would be much different whether she lives or dies; there’s still the need for death acceptance and talking about dying, whether or not she lives, and none of the story in this fic would have happened had the characters known she would live. the whole point is not knowing.

for a little while i toyed with writing an unofficial sequel of sorts in which i spelled out what i think happens after the ending, but after realizing that that would end up being longer than the original fic and would also have some massive plot holes, i decided against it. i do have my own version and i don’t want to share that version because i never really intended for my version to be some kind of genuine sequel in which every question gets answered and everything is wrapped up and happy ever after and whatnot. it was just where my brain wandered in the same way it wanders when i watch an open-ended movie. all of that to say, if you think she lives, then she lives. if you think she dies, then she dies. it’s your decision. i’d much rather you choose than me. i never marked this as “major character” death on ao3 because, well, she doesn’t die in this fic. whether or not she dies after the fic ends, that’s for you to decide.

thank you for taking the time to read my writing. i never expected this to blow up (it blew up for me at least, for a while it was my most popular fic ever, with i think thousands more hits than anything else i’d written) and the response has been mind-boggling and wonderful. i don’t respond to comments often because it makes me feel like a pompous jerk (”thank you for enjoying this! i, too, enjoy this thing i have written! oh ho ho!” is how it sounds to me in my head, whereas when other writers respond to comments to me it just looks like thanks man have a good day, feel free to call me a weenie) but i’ve appreciated all of them very much. THANK YOU! i hope your new year is a Whole Lot Less Shit than 2020. i don’t plan on writing more msr because i don’t really have any ideas for them. thank you for making my last time special <3

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sincerelystranger · 4 years

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hello! ive been doing some THINK and i just really couldn't get it out of my mind like what if the last time that lwj (from honesty is the best policy) has seen wwx was like in that scene in the bathroom, so like his last memory of him is his trembling hands and how it was his fault that it came to be AND IM JUST LIKE IMAGINING ALL THE YEARNING??? like upon seeing each other again, lwj is angry and confused and incredibly yearning aHHHH also im that person from ur previous ask i rlly luv ur fic!

Hi again! Thank you for liking my story so much lol. I feel like if the story had gone that direction it would have gone something like this?

---

Lan Zhan didn’t know how he got back to his apartment, but he fell to the floor as soon as he got through the door, shaky and nauseous. He couldn’t get the image of Wei Wuxian - on his knees and shaking - out of his mind. Lan Zhan had done that to him, he thought, another wave of nausea rolling through him. Lan Zhan had treated him so poorly - had been so needlessly cruel to him - that Wei Wuxian shook at the sight of him.

Lan Zhan had left Wei Wuxian alone in that cold restroom, alone and shaking. He had been so thin and tired and Lan Zhan had left him alone. But what else could he have done? Wei Wuxian couldn’t imagine Lan Zhan wanting anything other than sex from him. Seemed to recoil at Lan Zhan’s touch. Seemed terrified of him somehow.

It was almost humorous to think about - Wei Wuxian being scared of him. Lan Zhan was the one who had been terrified of Wei Wuxian for so long. The one who had been so scared of the way Wei Wuxian smiled, the gentle way of his fingers, the easy way he accepted Lan Zhan’s silence, his coldness. He had been terrified of falling in love with Wei Wuxian for so long and look where it had brought him? He had been so scared that he had forced that terror onto Wei Wuxian as well.

His uncle had been right about trash, but not who was trash. Wei Wuxian would be better off not associating with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan would not dirty him any further.

Lan Zhan got up slowly, leaning against the wall for support. He supposed he would have to get used to this silence again - this apartment devoid of warmth.

Lan Zhan made his way to his room, his steps wobbly as if he were drunk. Shame and guilt and regret rolled through him, punching the breath out of him. Hot pins pricked the back of his eyes - could he cry? Did he even deserve that?

He undressed and got into the shower. The water sluiced off him, but Lan Zhan couldn’t tell what the temperature of the water was. Steam rose up around him but he was still cold. He leaned back against the tile and stared at the shower seat in front of him.

Wei Wuxian had sat there once.

Wei Wuxian had let Lan Zhan wash his hair there - pliant and trusting. Had trusted Lan Zhan to wash his hair. Had trusted Lan Zhan not to hurt him.

A sob finally ripped itself from his throat. No matter how cold Lan Zhan had been, Wei Wuxian had trusted him - and Lan Zhan had destroyed that trust. And for what? For orchestra? For his uncle? For some rich bastards that couldn’t give a fuck what happened to Lan Zhan either way?

Why had those things seemed so important?

They didn’t mean anything now.

Lan Zhan would give up everything now, if Wei Wuxian would just sit there again. If Wei Wuxian would just let him wash his hair again.

He’d give up everything.

----------

Lan Zhan floated through his days, his thoughts in a fog. He spoke to Shei-laoshi, told him that he would step down from orchestra. The conductor had seemed troubled at this, had asked him to take a couple weeks off and see if he still wanted to quit instead. Lan Zhan had agreed, but he knew a couple weeks would not make any difference.

His presence alone hurt Wei Wuxian. He would not hurt Wei Wuxian any more.

Lan Zhan vaguely remembered his uncle making him another visit to his apartment after that. Yelling at him as if he had lost his mind.

“Wei Wuxian will not associate with me any more,” Lan Zhan had said, “Isn’t that what you wanted, uncle?”

His uncle had gone almost purple, sputtering at Lan Zhan in a way Lan Zhan had never seen before. Perhaps it was shock. After all, Lan Zhan had never spoken back before.

Whatever. Lan Zhan couldn’t be bothered. His uncle could take everything away - what did it matter any more? He had lost what was most important anyway.

---------

A knock at the door surprised Lan Zhan from his dinner. It was late. Who could it be? His uncle again?

He opened the door slowly, resigned to see his uncle’s ornery face.

He blinked slowly at the person in front of him.

He must be dreaming.

He blinked again.

Wei Wuxian.

He blinked again, and Wei Wuxian still stood there, real and beautiful and... Why was he there?

“What do you mean you’re quitting orchestra?” Wei Wuxian asked hotly, his perfect brows furrowed. They shouldn’t be furrowed like that, Lan Zhan thought faintly. He wanted to touch him. Rub that furrow out with his fingers.

“I- I-,” Lan Zhan stammered. What could he say to get Wei Wuxian to stay? His heart suddenly seemed to jump into his throat.

“You can’t quit,” Wei Wuxian continued, seemingly unaware of Lan Zhan’s internal crisis. “You’re the only one good enough to be first violin. Su She will be first violin if you quit and that will ruin our entire orchestra.” Wei Wuxian scratched the back of his head irritably. “Is it because of me? If it is, I promise I won’t make things weird. So... please don’t quit.”

Lan Zhan couldn’t help himself then - when could he help himself with anything regarding Wei Wuxian? - he grabbed Wei Wuxian and tugged him towards him. Enveloping him in a crushing embrace. He was real. He was real.

Lan Zhan thought he might have let out a sob at that.

“Wha--? Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cried, struggling a little in his arms.

“Please,” Lan Zhan said, his voice coming out ragged and desperate. “Just a minute - just a few seconds. Please.”

Wei Wuxian stilled at that.

He was always so kind, Lan Zhan thought desperately. Wei Wuxian was so kind. He deserved so much better.

Lan Zhan cupped the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, brought him close, tried not to sob. How long had it been since he had had him in his arms? This would be Lan Zhan’s last opportunity. He tried to memorize how Wei Wuxian’s hair felt in his fingers, how his head slid perfectly into the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck, how the warmth of his body seemed to seep into Lan Zhan’s pores - warm him at a cellular level.

Lan Zhan took another breath and let Wei Wuxian go.

He took a step back - or tried to - when Wei Wuxian crashed into him again. His arms going around Lan Zhan stomach.

“Wei Wuxian?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice shaking in shock.

“You said orchestra was more important than me,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice muffled by Lan Zhan’s chest. “So why are you quitting?”

“I lied,” Lan Zhan replied honestly. “Or, to be more correct, I was wrong.”

Wei Wuxian raised his head from where he had buried it in Lan Zhan’s chest. He was so fucking beautiful, Lan Zhan thought. Lan Zhan wanted to wake up to that face. Wanted to see it before he went to sleep. He wanted that face to live in his apartment. Shine his light into the cold, lonely space.

“It turns out, you are more important than orchestra,” Lan Zhan admitted.

Wei Wuxian let go of him then. Lan Zhan immediately felt the loss - immediately missed the warmth.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice shaking, “Please don’t mess with me, Lan Zhan.”

“I’m not,” Lan Zhan replied, desperate to get Wei Wuxian to believe him. “I’m not. I was wrong, Wei Wuxian.”

“You weren’t!” Wei Wuxian cried. Somehow, the thought that Lan Zhan valued Wei Wuxian more than orchestra seemed to terrify him. How heartbreaking. “I’m not worth losing orchestra. I’ll quit if that makes it easier for you. Please - please don’t quit orchestra.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Zhan said, his chest aching, “I won’t quit orchestra if that is what you want - but, it’s the truth. Losing you wasn’t worth keeping orchestra or my uncle happy or anything.”

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian said, something desperate in his voice as if he couldn’t bear to hear that he was valued. “If you want another fuck buddy, I can introduce you to someone - someone better. Someone even your uncle will approve of.”

Lan Zhan’s chest ached at that, a sharp jolt of anger and shame going up his spine. “You’re not worth more to me because of your body,’ Lan Zhan said hotly, “If you chose to never touch me again, I’d still choose you over orchestra - over everything.”

“What are you talking about?” Wei Wuxian begged, stepping backwards from Lan Zhan, his back against the door now.

“I’m in love with you,” Lan Zhan admitted then, his body going hot and cold at the admission. It was terrifying, opening himself up like this, but Wei Wuxian deserved this, didn’t he? At least this. “I’ve spent probably all of our time together trying to convince myself that I wasn’t in love with you - but I am, and I can’t deny it any more. I hate that it took losing you for me to realize it, but I’m in love with you.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, his eyes wide, his body still.

“I don’t expect you to return my feelings,” Lan Zhan continued, valiantly making his way through his terror, “I know I treated you horribly, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I love you. I thought that you would be more comfortable without me at orchestra - so I wanted to do that for you.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered, looking at Lan Zhan almost as if he didn’t recognize him. “Lan Zhan, don’t say you’re in love with me.”

“But I am,” Lan Zhan whispered back, a lump forming in his throat, making it hard for him to speak. “I really am - I’m sorry.”

------

(I’d continue, but it seems a little long for an ask lol! Basically after this, it would probably go similar to the way the story ended. WWX in LWJ’s arm’s :))

#honesty is the best policy #wangxian #the untamed #my fic

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johannesviii · 3 years

Text

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2020

You know, when I finished my latest list and realised every decade had the same pattern and that we were slowly going towards a series of great years for pop, I didn’t realise how good that year would be.

What’s at the top? Am I boringly predictable because I already said I loved that song all the way back in January 2020? Let’s find out.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will probably be stuff in French somewhere on this post. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

So. Uh. How was your 2020?

Mine was actually surprisingly good, considering. I’m lucky enough to have a job that I can partially do from home, and I was extremely paranoid from the get-go and nobody got sick under this roof so far. Turns out I’m even better at my job from home and I got permission to work from home one day per week even after the health crisis is over! My first name was also finally officially approved and I can’t tell you how happy I feel about that. I almost feel bad to have had such a good year considering the circumstances. I feel like an asshole just because I’m happy, haha.

The only frustrating part was that I was supposed to see Hatari in concert in Paris in early April which, as you can guess, was cancelled. I’m not too mad about it though, since their tour was called “Europe will crumble” and the message saying the tour was cancelled started with “since Europe is actually crumbling due to Covid-19″ and that’s hysterical.

Good or interesting albums that came out in 2020 now, let’s see.

Nightwish released Human/Nature, which was a huge letdown compared to their previous album, but I will relisten to it at some point to make sure I wasn’t just in a bad mood that day.

The Birthday Massacre released Diamonds, which might be their weakest album since their debut, but contained some real gems (I listened to The Last Goodbye on a loop, it floored me. Flashback and Enter are also very good).

The 1975 released Notes On A Conditional Form, and let’s be real, it’s a f█cking mess. You could cut half the tracks and end up with an excellent album, but as it is it’s like, yes, a collection of notes ; however there’s some truely excellent shit on it (see unelligible songs).

Thanks to a friend on a discord server I was exposed to Dorian Electra’s music and I haven’t been quite the same ever since. I’m so happy to be alive to see other enbies making such great music with an insanely good aesthetic surrounding it and asking so many interesting questions about gender. Also the arc the ‘gentleman’ character goes through over the course of the entire tracklist of the 2020 My Agenda album is absolutely hilarious, don’t @ me.

I also discovered 100 Gecs this year. Why are most of you guys saying it’s unlistenable garbage. It’s just as abrasive and over the top as industrial music is, but with none of the edginess or drama. I love it. What the hell. But yeah Tree of Clues was released this year. Good.

Speaking of industrial, in March 2020 Nine Inch Nails were like “hey remember when we released Ghosts I-IV a decade ago entirely for free and how amazing that was? Well we’re all in lockdown and bored as hell so here’s Ghosts V-VI and it’s also free. Enjoy” and I f█cking died instantly. And it’s even better than I-IV. What the hell was that year

Jonsi released Shiver. It’s strange and highly experimental. I’m pretty sure it’s a good thing I was into hyperpop this year, otherwise going from his previous material straight to this album would have been brutal.

Yadda yadda yadda After Hours by the Weeknd good yadda yadda.

I’ve joked about that already but if you had told me in 2019 that 2020 would have fires, a pandemic, riots, monoliths appearing and disappearing, and also a super good Machine Gun Kelly album, guess which part I would have found the most ridiculous. But yeah uh. Tickets to my Downfall good

So uh this year I tried to listen to some hyperpop and liked it a lot, and I also dipped my toes timidly into screamo and listened to Svalbard, who released When I Die this year, and the entire album was a very beautiful, very intricately decorated punch to the face. It sounds like God Is An Astronaut except with a shit ton of yelling. I love it. Open Wound is my favorite track on it.

But no, despite all of this, my album of the year was from a band I had never even heard about before that year, called Spanish Love Songs. The album is titled Brave Faces Everyone and it’s line after line after line of extremely relatable generational angst but yelled with complete sincerity and it’s so propulsive and energetic you can’t help but feel both exhausted and ready to fight the entire universe. I don’t know how it works, but it’s incredible. The entire album is wonderfully brutal, so it’s kind of difficult to pick my favorite songs on it, but Beachfront Property and the title track stand out.

Unelligible songs, now, and there’s, uh, quite a few of them too so I’m also gonna use bullet points. Good lord this post is gonna be long.

First, let me say I have literally no idea why Midnight Sky by Miley Cyrus wasn’t a bigger hit. It’s not on the year-end US top 100 and it feels extremely wrong. Would have made it to #4 on this list otherwise.

I still entertain the vague hope that stuff from Machine Gun Kelly will chart higher in 2021 but I doubt it will happen so I might as well tackle it now and say that Bloody Valentine and especially Forget Me Too are both excellent and that it’s a shame radios aren’t playing them more often.

Heaven by the late Avicii featuring Coldplay should have charted in 2019 and still didn’t chart in 2020 and that’s a real shame.

If the world was a bit less unfair, Lovesick Girls by Blackpink would have been a hit rather than the awful Ice Cream.

One day I will stop complaining about my bafflement concerning the lack of mainstream pop charts success of The 1975. Today is not that day. I just love how they keep making songs about extremely awkward relationships full of weird details, and I haven’t grown tired of that yet. So yeah If You’re Too Shy is about a guy who’s crush is asking him to get naked on Skype in his hotel room and he’s, uh, not too sure about that idea.

And Me & You Together is about a guy who never finds the right moment to tell his best friend he’s in love with her, and he manages to do so at the end and it’s cute as hell. My fave part is “I'm sorry that I'm kinda queer / It's not as weird as it appears / It's 'cause my body doesn't stop me (Stop me) / Oh, it's okay, lots of people think I'm gay / But we're friends, so it's cool, why would it not be?”. Relatable as f█ck.

And now for an international hit that should have been bigger in the US and/or in my country but wasn’t: Head & Heart by Joel Corry and MNEK.

I’ve heard Nos Célébrations by Indochine extremely often on French radio for months now so I was very surprised to see that it didn’t crack the local year-end list. What happened.

I can finally hear the appeal of Bring Me The Horizon. It took me ages. And also Death Stranding. The song Ludens isn’t in the game per say, but it’s among the ones you can pick to broadcast briefly when people drive by your constructions, and long story short it's been living rent-free in my head for months now.

Phew.

It’s time for a round of Honorable Mentions for elligible songs, containing a couple of guilty pleasures, which is saying something considering the kind of shit I put on some of my previous lists.

Ne Reviens Pas (Gradur et Heuss l’Enfoiré) - Heuss is a French artist that kept baffling me while making my lists for the previous years, and I was like “??? ok, that’s it then, I guess I’m getting too old to get what teenagers find funny”. This one worked for me, though. And the music video doesn’t hurt. Really dumb and really fun.

Adore You (Harry Styles) - Perfectly good little pop song, very pleasant to listen to, never outstayed its welcome for me.

Mood (24kGoldn) - This doesn’t sound like a very good relationship, my dude, but that’s still a super pleasant song.

WAP (Cardi B & Megan Thee Stallion) - This song is absolutely hilarious and I will hear no argument from any of you.

Control (Zoe Wees) - Was clearly a hit here. Should have been even bigger though. What a powerful but comfy voice. If I had better taste it would be on the list.

Hot Girl Bummer (Blackbear) - I. Uh. Listen. I keep saying I have bad taste and nobody believes me. Do you believe me now. But yeah. “F█ck you, and you, and you~, I hate your friends and they hate me too” is gonna pop in my head every single time someone is being a jerk anywhere near me now. It’s been happening all year already. Someone trashed my documents at work? Someone isn’t wearing a mask in public? That guy has filled his car with rolls of toilet paper? Brain goes “F█ck you, and you, and you~”. Every. Single. Time.

Come & Go (Juice WRLD & Marshmello ) - Damn, that’s a pretty good little song. I’ve seen plenty of people saying it’s ruined by the drop, but may I remind you I’m the person who loves Blue by Eiffel 65 with all my heart. If the song was ramping up consistently until the end instead of ending like that, it would have made the list, definitely.

And now, the actual list. This one actually feels pretty solid, I genuinely like everything on it, there’s no filler here for once.

10 - The Box (Roddy Rich)

US: #3 / FR: #23

Now this is a weird case, because for the longest time I couldn’t figure out why this song was so popular and I was completely neutral about it. Then, one morning in September, my mental jukebox (which always, always puts a song on a loop in my head when I wake up) decided to play it. And I was like oh wow?? I never noticed the atmosphere in that song before? It’s so great. And that hook too. Let’s listen to it.

So yeah, I don’t know what happened. It just clicked one day and everything fell into place, I guess.

9 - Alane (Wes & Robin Shulz)

US: Not on the list / FR: #93

Come on. You can’t do a remake of one of my previous #1 songs and let it chart in 2020. That’s cheating. Even with this subpar drop, I have to put it on the list, now.

I’ve already said my piece about the original, so I’m just going to send you back to my 1997 list.

8 - Kings and Queens (Ava Max)

US: Not on the list / FR: #76

[BBC documentary voice] After Lady Gaga decided to make piano balads and left her musical niche vacant, Ava Max quickly took her place as the top predator pop diva. Even after Lady Gaga was re-introduced to her natural habitat in 2020, she still hasn’t fully recovered in Europe, where Ava Max still reigns supreme on the charts -

(tldr I think it’s hilarious that this isn’t on the US Billboard while Lady Gaga isn’t on the French year-end top 100)

7 - Roses (Saint Jhn & Imanbek)

US: #19 / FR: #3

What an earworm. It doesn’t even bother trying to have an intro or an outro, so it loops almost perfectly. It’s like entering a party that started long before you arrived, and it will go on long after you leave it to go back home. Kind of hypnotic in a way.

And yes, my mental jukebox was very fond of using it to wake me up this year, so this is another song that’s here almost solely because of that.

6 - Physical (Dua Lipa)

US: Not on the list / FR: #69 (hehehe)

“Hey I’m not that old” says the guy who’s definitely a sucker for this kind of retro throwback that was so popular this year. Oh well.

I don’t have anything interesting to say about this one, though. Apart from the fact that everyone seems to have a different fave song on that album. Guess that’s quality for you.

5 - Rain on Me (Lady Gaga & Ariana Grande)

US: #48 / FR: Not on the list

That is far from being Lady Gaga’s best song, but it was a joy to listen to everytime it was on the radio anyway. Also Ariana Grande has surprisingly good chemistry with Gaga! This year was full of strange duets mostly made for commercial reasons, and this one isn’t an exception, but unlike a lot of them, it really, really works.

4 - Dynamite (BTS)

US: #38 / FR: Not on the list

I’m still not 100% sold on k-pop even if a ton of it sounds super good, but come on. Even if some bits of this song (especially the beginning of the second chorus) sound a bit like they were made on autopilot, it still sounds just as happy and fun several months after I first heard it and I never got tired of it. That’s quality. You hear it and you can’t help but tap your feet and smile.

Actually, I’m sure there’s people somewhere that don’t smile when they hear this song. And they must be avoided at all costs.

3 - Godzilla (Eminem ft Juice WRLD)

US: #62 / FR: Not on the list

What are you doing so high on this list, old man. Why are you still here in the year 2020. I thought we left you in the previous decade. Who gave you the right.

I’m gonna tell you who did, and it’s actually Juice WRLD. Because that chorus is incredible, and like a lot of people I’m pissed off because the guy died super young and this shit shouldn’t happen to anybody. No, his early material wasn’t great, but I’m sorry I’m gonna say it again: have you heard this damn chorus? It’s suspenseful and dark, it’s got this lowkey menacing quality, it’s an earworm and a half, and it’s more convincing in like six lines than Eminem’s own flexing is in the entire song.

The beat is extremely good as well, and the flow, obviously, impressive. The weakest link is Eminem’s writing, which is as usual full of puns and weird wordplay, except here a lot of it isn’t great, and that last ultra fast part at the end is technically impressive but it also drives the song up a cliff and stops it dead in its tracks once it’s over. But frankly the lines fly by so fast it’s difficult to be too annoyed by them.

Can I sincerely put this extremely flawed song so high on my list? A better question would be “did I spend hours trying to learn how to sing this shit without choking on my own spit?”. The answer is yes. To both.

2 - Heartless (The Weeknd)

US: #28 / FR: Not on the list

I’ve said it on my 2015 and 2016 lists already, but just for the record I’ll say it again: it took me ages to like The Weeknd, mostly because I found most of his songs fairly boring, or disliked the lyrics, or both. Also I never really liked the general vibe of his “sexy” songs like The Hills, they felt dark but in an unpleasant creepy way. Felt like miserable hedonism, if that makes sense.

So, because I’m a person with extremely consistent and logical tastes, here’s the exact same shit he was making before, except that this time I absolutely adore it.

What is he doing differently that makes the whole After Hours album click for me whereas almost all of his previous material failed to do so? Is it the energy? Is it the reverb? Is it the fact that the narrator sounds properly unhinged and, frankly, scared to be spiralling out of control? Why are the colors so beautiful yet full of anxiety? Why is that bridge so fantastic? How can you make your voice look like a glowstick in the dark?

I give up. I have no clue. At least I’m done talking about-

Oh.

1 - Blinding Lights (The Weeknd)

US: #1 / FR: #1 (listen sometimes something’s just that good, ok)

Surprise. Or not.

Wow, look at that, Johannes has put this year’s number one pop song at number one on their personal playlist. The audacity. The edge. What a hot take.

I discovered that song when it first came out at the end of 2019 and I adored it instantly. And I was so scared it wouldn’t be a hit. Which means I’m a f█cking dumbass considering it ended up breaking all sorts of records in 2020. But what can I say, overplay can be a blessing when you love a song that much.

Like every single song I put at number one on one of my lists, I will draw this one at some point and you will understand how incredibly satisfying it is to listen to a song called Blinding Lights, talking about city lights looking blurry when you’re driving at night, while looking itself like a bunch of blurry city lights passing by super fast. Perfect in every way.

Also it sounds exactly like A-ha, and that never hurts.

See you next year! Pretty sure it will be even better music-wise.

#Johannes’ bad not good pretty terrible music lists #music #long post #eye contact tw

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propertyofwicked · 4 years

Text

a-z of dating will schofield

(ive kept blake alive bcos im not a monster, and he has sisters rather than daughters :) ) pls request more for me to write i am bored of my half term lol

a- argue

both of you are fairly neutral people, so you rarely have arguments of significance. when you do however, the aftermath can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days - both of you too stubborn to admit your faults so resorting to silent treatment. the periods of silence ended when one of you couldn’t take it anymore, usually him. he would approach you when you were pre-occupied, take you in his arms and whisper an apology. if that didn’t work, he would begin telling bad jokes, refusing to let you go until you cracked even the smallest of smiles.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

will loves your lips. on the one hand, he loves when your whole face lights up in laughter, or perks up with a smile. he loves seeing your lips curl up into a small grin whenever you see him across the street or when you share a look from across busy rooms. on the other hand, he loves how your lips fit perfectly with his. when you get intimate, he loves how they wrap around him and he loves when they fall open to let out the bliss sound of your moans.

c - care (how you care for each other when you’re sick)

when will is ill, he’ll pretend it’s nothing and continue working himself beyond his ability. it’s almost your job to make sure that when he’s ill, he remains in bed - or at least the house - in order for you to keep an eye on him and make sure he stays hydrated and well fed. when you’re ill, he will stay with you as much as he can. before he has to go to work, he’ll place a glass of water and medication next to your bed and put soup into a pot, ready for you to just heat it up when you needed it. when he comes home, he’ll come straight up to you and wrap you in his arms, peppering your face in kisses. he didn’t care if he too got ill - it just meant more time with you.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

you and will weren’t a typically outgoing couple, whilst you both came from money and could afford to splash out - neither of you wanted to. you’d rather stay at home, curled up on a sofa, humming along softly to the murmurs of a record playing softly in the background. he’d play with the rings that adorned your fingers whilst he listened to you talk about anything that came to mind. you listened to him talk, sometimes he’d tell stories of his time in the war - maybe he’d recount something he’d seen or something that blake had told him in passing, he did love to tell stories after all. when you did go all out, it was to celebrate anniversaries or birthdays, and even then, it was a dinner and then a walk home, gazing at the stars.

e - engagement (how he proposed)

it was on your 7 year anniversary, sometime in early 1922, and you go to a local restaurant to celebrate. something feels different though. as you walked in holding hands, his became clammy and throughout conversation at dinner, he stumbled over his words and found it hard to stay on one topic for more than 5 minutes at a time. on the walk home he takes you down a different street and says he “just wants to show you something”. without questioning him, you follow him and end up at the bench you first met. it wouldn’t be will, if he hadn’t planned out a long speech that built up to the final question but in his stress manage to forget it and resort to just going on one knee and smiling up at you, “i love you, will you marry me?”

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

his family adores you. his younger sisters loved to have someone to talk to and someone to braid their hair whilst their big brother was away at war. whilst he was away, his mother loved to have you other for dinner, desperate to have anything the remind her of her son. his dad and you weren’t massively close but there was an aspect of mutual respect. you had many mutual friends as you grew up in the same area, attending local schools and all of them were obviously delighted to see their two friends happy with each other. your parents adored him too, he was the son they never had whilst also being the best thing to walk into your life.

g - gifts

will loved to shower you in gifts. they were only little but they were something so deeply special to you. it was weekly flowers, that he’d buy on his way back from work, or maybe a punnet of cherries from the green grocers - he was whipped and you were equally.

h - how you met

you met when you were 17 and he was 18 in 1915. your town had been holding a small travelling festival consisting of a circus and fun little game stalls. your friends had insisted you go, as it may be your only chance. they didn’t mention though, that whilst there they would be meeting their boyfriends - leaving you alone, wondering around admiring the lights. in your meandering, you bumped into the dusty blond who stood as good head above you. in doing so, you knocked the toffee apple out of his hand, and insisted on buying him a new one with the the remainder of the 10 bob your dad had given you on the way out. you spent the rest of the evening sat on a bench, talking about the stars that shon above until your friends turned up to take you home.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down?)

despite his shy outer shell, william schofield was not afraid to show you loving almost every day. can’t sleep? hungry? need to go shopping? this man does not care. if you need anything, he’ll give it to you and god does he know how to work his way around that bedroom.

j - jealousy

your’re both the jealous type, but not the type to make a public show about it. the pent out anger is usually taken out behind doors if you get what i mean ;) when will gets jealous, he makes sure you know by squeezing your hand harder or moving it over to graze the top of your thigh and he’d play with the ends of you hair. you’re more discreet about it, maybe getting a little argumentative with whoever is making you jealous.

k - kinks

william schofield - king of praising. he loves to hear you call out his name as much as he likes to make you. if he could spend all day making you shake, he would.

l - long distance

whilst will was away at war, things got hard. despite only being together 6 months when he left, it was like a piece of you had been torn away, and you spent every day praying for his safe return. but when he did come back on leave, it wasn’t the same as you knew he’d had to leave again and the risk of never seeing him again got more prevalent. sending letters was always hard, often he’d find the small marks where ink had bled from your tears, his heart shutting down to repress his own feelings. his letters went from happy to bland. no emotion, just vague descriptions of his days, his meals - nothing about him and how he was doing. so when the war did finally end and he came back to you, he returned to being the will you had grown to love.

m - moving in

towards the beginning of the war, you had received a letter from will declaring how the moment he came home, he wanted to make a woman out of you. so when the war finally ended 4 years later, and he returned, the first thing you two did was go on the hunt for a smallish house. you opted to move more into the city as the jobs and travel was considerably better. living together was a dream, though you had to adjust to each others bad habits, and being young and living together meant you had the constant questionings as to when you would start a family of your own.

n - nights out

ofcourse, living in closer to the city provided you with better opportunities for nightlife. friday nights were dancing nights. you two, your friends and partners and whichever girl tom picked up that week would all stumble down to the dance hall and spend hours, drunk dancing to the likes of marrison harris, only to return home at early hours and pass out on the living room floor.

o - open with each other

at the start of your relationship, will and you were very open with each other, discussing your boundaries and respecting them as such. you would talk about everything, from friends to family to school. but after the war, will became a closed door - refusing to talk about anything that happened whilst he was away, you respected this but wished he’d open up the slightest, just to be able to connect to him in anyway. after a few months, he became the same man he was before he left, just more mature - a look that really suited him. in his months of silence, you opted to fill this by just talking non stop, anything the provoke a reaction. and you’ll never forget when he had not said a word for 3 days after returning and whispered a quick “i love you” as you fell asleep that night.

p - pda

neither of you were big on over-the-top pda, choosing to just hold hands or accept slight pecks. affection was saved for a private environment around only each other or very close friends. although in crowded areas, will would stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you securely.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night)

it’s 3am, you can’t sleep, so you roll over and stare will in the face until one eye peaks open.

“yeah?” he mumbles sleepily.

“do you love me?”

“mhm”

“no say it”

“i love you, now go to sleep, it’s 3am”

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

you’ve always wanted kids, knowing that you grew up mostly alone as a single child. will had also wanted children until he saw what war could do to a child. he feared that he would be putting a potential son at risk by just simply creating him. it took a lot of convincing to retrieve will from the mindset he had fallen trap to, but he eventually did come around to the idea of having his own little family to protect.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he was really bold when you got to know him well enough. on the surface and to people who had not spoken to him, will seemed like a quiet but wise soul. one getting to know him, anyone could realise that he had the sense of humour of a champ and was really outgoing. often, being around tom brought this out in him, challenging to ridiculous games of drunk darts in a dingy pub.

t - together (what you do together)

you just vibe together. sometimes you cook together, other times you sing or you dance along with the wireless - him twirling you around the kitchen was a favourite of his. sometimes you’d read together or to each other and other times you’d go out dancing till early hours of the morning.

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

will and tom were hell to reckon with alone, but when alcohol was thrown into the mix it became a harder battle. you’d opted out of going out one night after a long, tiresome day. this led you to be left to deal with two fully grown men, giggling like school girls in your living room at 2am. will refused to sleep till he had gotten a kiss and tom refused until he was tucked into to bed and sang a nursery rhyme. but quite frankly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

v - vacations

at it was only the 1920′s, you guys tended not to go abroad. instead you travelled the country, hiking in the peak district and swimming in the sea at cornwall.

w - wedding

you had a small wedding service, attended by family and close friends - and it was absolutely perfect. the service was followed by an evening of dancing and drinking alongside the people you loved most.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

it was almost impossible for a man to return from war unharmed, which left will with a weak left hand from a bad experience with barbed wired and then the carcus of a man. some days, it would get so bad, that he was unable to lift a glass in that hand, and on the days, you’d remind him that you were there to help whenever he needed it. whether that meant giving him medication or ringing a doctor, he was constantly reminded of the love you had for him.

y - you (a random headcannon)

will had left early that morning, saying he’d be home late and not to wait up. you didn’t question it, as often he would travel for his job or go for drinks with tom. for some reason that night you couldn’t sleep without him, so took out his shirt and held it close to you, managing to fall asleep comforted by the smell of him. what a sight that was, for him to walk in a few hours later and find you curled up with his shirt. he had never been more in love with you than at this precise moment.

z - zzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

you’d be in bed first most nights, after bathing away that days dirt. will would emerge at the bedroom door half an hour later, in just a towel, to gaze at you absorbed into a book and oblivious to his presence. he’d put on his pyjamas and climb in next to you, his arm find his way under your back. this way he was able to pull you in and rest your head on his chest. he’d press a kiss to the top of your head, then tilt your chin up to connect your lips together in a sweet kiss.

#1917 #george mackay #dean charles chapman #tom blake #will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield imagine #sam mendes #tom blake x reader #tom blake imagine #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #a-z #this is shit im so sorry ahaha

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artsythembo · 3 years

Text

Make Up Work - Chapter 1

Tw: Bullying, Minor violence

Nathan Rosen is tired of constantly being pushed around. He put his foot down and even got some kids suspended but now they're back! Nathan needs to fend off old enemies and without realizing it may grow closer to one than her ever thought possible.

The keyboard clacked rigorously as Nathan typed on his latest story. He knew the clock was ticking. However, he also knew this was what he loved and math class wasn't. With only five minutes left he found himself knee deep in the atmosphere and barely noticed when his timer went off. Three till, now he had to get to class. Begrudgingly he packed up his laptop and threw his bag over his shoulder. Making his way out of the library he kept his head down. Get to class and make it through the day.

As he made his way through the hallway he felt bumps and heard jeers. Insults flew at him like flies to fly paper but despite them sticking he ignored it the best he could. The last thing he needed right now was a fight and besides he knew he'd lose. It was thankfully a short walk to Miss Gallard's math class so he made it with little damage. He kept his mind on his stories as he sat in the second row, wanting to hear the lesson but not wanting to appear like a total nerd. Looking around he noticed something, or more like the lack of something. Seat five of row four was unoccupied. That's where Ryan usually sat or at least used to. Spying discretely around the room he noted Ryan was still nowhere to be seen. Thank god.

The last thing he needed was to deal with him. Ryan was one of the worst kids in the school, violent and demanding. He was always making Nathan do his homework, or at least he did before he disappeared. One day Nathan walked in dreading another day and no one demanded his lunch money. That was a month ago and it was honestly a pretty sweet month of no bullies! All his usual bullies had been suspended and then a week later Ryan went missing. He sure as hell didn't miss them! Especially Ryan, he was never anything but a jerk. The bell rang and with a whistle Miss Gallard's got the back row to chat quieter as she began class.

"Good morning students," She said less than enthusiastically, "I do hope you all studied as instructed because today is the day," She pulled out a small pile of papers. "midterms."

The students groaned as she passed out a few papers to those without laptops. There were a few boys sitting in the back who Nathan knew all too well, Jared and his gang. Those kids were real pieces of work. Nathan could feel them glaring at the back of his neck as he grabbed out his laptop. Theirs had been confiscated by the school after they were caught cyberbullying other kids, including him. He did his best to ignore them, but he knew they were planning trouble. It was because of him they got suspended. He sighed internally as they flicked papers at the back of his neck. At least Ryan is still gone.

He turned his attention to getting the test page up. Nathan was always good with tests and studied hard so he hoped things would be fine. Miss Gallard walked back to the front of the room and addressed the teens.

"Alright this will be an hour long exam, you will be timed. Quite a lot of your grade relies on this so good luck." Nathan did his best clicking through answers at an alright pace. He vaguely noticed other kids putting away their laptops and even Jared and them taking up their papers. Once finished Nathan submitted. He wasn't the last one done but certainly had taken his time. Closing the tab he opened his word processor and continued work on his story. He lost himself deep in the characters so deep in fact that he didn't notice the bell ring. Of course everyone else was in a hurry to get to lunch and he didn't have any friends in the class so no one bothered to tell him. Until Miss Gallard tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you going to lunch?" she questioned. It was then that He noticed the time. Crap! He quickly shut his laptop and shoved it into his bag walking quickly out the room. Once he was out of sight of the teacher he began sprinting. He really didn't want to miss lunch. Running he found himself drifting back to his story. The main character Ariana Valentine, he loved her so much, was a bad-ass outlaw on the run in a futuristic society. She was living her hectic life before she met Grey Lawson, an upstanding citizen of the new world who insists she change her ways. Through some pretty cool circumstances this unlikely pair are stuck together on the run from the government trying to break down a conspiracy! Nathan felt a little like he was floating as he ran at a breakneck pace. Maybe that was why he didn't notice the person in his way until he ran into them. The wind was knocked out of him as Nathan bounced back.

"Hey! What the-!" Nathan froze as his eye opened to the sight of a white and red letterman jacket with a patch in the shape of a capital R.

Crap! He knew who was inside this jacket and rather than look up he hoped he could slip past him. He wanted to go to lunch and pretend this never happened. Unfortunately he was never that lucky. As he attempted to silently stare forward and walk around he felt the familiar tug of a fist on his shirt collar.

His eyes shut again as the wind was knocked out of him for the second time. Colliding with the wall hurt but not near as much as he was about to if he didn't choose his next words carefully. Opening his eyes he saw the angry, bruised face of none other than Ryan Hyalls staring him down. He spoke slowly as if calming a rabid animal.

"Hey Ryan, long time no see…" Ryan looked him up and down clearly in a bad mood. Oh boy.

"So I'm gone a couple weeks and you think you can start throwing attitude?" Fuck.

"No, no, no. Of course not I didn't know it was you is, um all!" He knew he was slipping he had to act fast before this turned sour.

"And? Any more excuses?" Jeez he is in a bad mood today. Nathan stays silent unsure what to say. Act fast.

"No, no, I'm sorry." Ryan seemed to calm slightly letting Nathan down. "Look I'm super sorry to have caused any trouble." Nathan spoke somewhat frantically moving slowing in a half circle around Ryan. "So I'll go and stop bothering you! I'm sure you want to get to lunch." Nathan was about to bolt when Ryan grabbed his arm.

"Not without my lunch money I'm not." He held out a hand expectantly and Nathan cursed to himself. Great… He rolled his eyes internally but did as the older teen demanded. He even added a nervous. "O-of course!" The weaker he appeared, the less threatened the bully would be or at least that's what his mother said. Nathan handed the money from his wallet into Ryan's expecting hand. As Ryan counted the money Nathan backed away slowly and turned.

"Oh no you don't!" Ryan reached out before Nathan bolted and grabbed him by the arm. His hand was big enough to completely encase the younger boys arm. Nathan turned panicked hoping he could have gotten away and for the first time since the conversation began Ryan smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile, not even close! It was a wicked kind of smile a car salesman had before ripping off an old lady. Nathan wanted to yell for help but he knew better so when Ryan began dragging him around the school halls he let it happen. "Where are we going?" He asked exasperated but Ryan refused to answer and kept smiling.

It wasn't long before they reach their destination, a janitors closet. Nathan was confused until he saw the door propped open with a book, then he was terrified. Ryan pulled him forward opening the door and shoving him in. Nathan barely kept his balance and turned in time to see the door shut.

He wasn't sure what would happened next and the air was tense. Ryan opened his bag and pulled out a folder throwing it to Nathan who barely caught It. It was green and read HISTORY across the front in bold black lettering. Nathan looked up in confusion.

"What? You know your job. Ive been gone for a month. So that means lots of make up work for me. Or more accurately for you." Ryan smiled a grin that could kill kittens and Nathan fumed. Seriously? He scares the shit out of me to make me do his homework! Nathan would've voiced these complaint but Ryan blocked the door. Knowing this could go much worse Nathan sat down and got started. There was so much and Ryan was a grade above him so Nathan had his work cut out for him. As he worked through it he did his best, even pulling out his phone to look stuff up. He knew these papers had to get a good grade, or else.

After a bit Nathan decided to try his luck. He could see other kids in the hall heading to the lunch room and knew he'd miss it entirely if he didn't try.

"You know I could get this done a lot faster if I had some food?" Nathan bit his lip hoping this would work but unfortunately Ryan turned his face sarcastically to the trapped boy.

"Oh really?" He pretend to think about it before plainly stating, "No." Nathan knew he was already pushing it but he was hungry.

"Come on, please? Something small at least?" He begged. This time Ryan ignored him. Nathan grew desperate and nearly shouted. "Aw come on man! I'm already doing your work you could at least let me eat!" Nathan quickly regretted his tone as the older boy stood up walking towards him. Nathan prepared himself for trouble and quickly back-tracked.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean-" He was cut off as Ryan got right up in his face and pointed to the papers on his lap with a stern look. Nathan swallowed a knot in his throat as Ryan's demeanor dared Nathan to challenge him further. He didn't and thankfully Ryan went back and sat down messing around on his phone.

Nathan sighed internally and turned back to the work. Whatever! I'll get it done and then I wouldn't have to worry about it. He sat and worked on history above his grade level for far longer than he felt he should have been. Still eventually the bell rang and Ryan stood up. Thank god I can finally leave.

Nathan got up as well stuffing all the papers he had managed to get done back in the folder. Ryan opened the door and Nathan followed him out. He tried to hand Ryan the folder but with a dissatisfied look he shoved it back into Nathans possession. Nathan was confused and a bit angry.

"I did the work." He insisted. Ryan stared him down like this was a waste of his time and shoved back the folder.

"Do the rest." Nathan hoped this wouldn't happen but clearly that didn't mean much to the universe that day.

"What?" Nathan blurted but Ryan smirked.

"I want it done by tonight." He shoved Nathan back and walked away as the dumbfounded boy fumed unable to do anything.

#original fiction #oc #my ocs #tw bullying #tw violence #ryan hyalls #nathan rosen #nat rosen #make up work #romance #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #mlm #gay #lgbt #lgbt stories

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