#I will go play tennis with you but I draw the line at going to the gym
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Winner
Pairing: Coach!Tashi x fem!Reader x Coach!Art
Warnings: 18+, smut, too filled with shame to proofread, dom!tashi, sub!art, sub!reader, mentions of spanking, tashi is so mean in this, art is basically a prop with minimal lines, idk
*******
Training with Tashi Duncan and her husband was an honor. You knew that. You did your very best to remember that; which was hard to do when she had days like this.
“Are you scared of the fucking ball?” You shake your head, but you know better than that at this point.
“Speak up!” You flinch before you can stop yourself.
“No, I'm not scared of the ball.” You say.
“I would hope not- considering how long you’ve been doing this. That’d surely be a disappointment to your little fan club that you love so much. “ Tashi watched the way your eyebrows tinge only for a moment, at the mention of the onlookers who follow your career closely.
It was no secret that you had a great appreciation for the love that they’d shown you, but it was almost like you were completely unaware of how quickly it would be gone if you weren’t up to par at all times.
From afar Art watched the scene play out. You were the player that Tashi was the hardest on. He was sure it was to do with the fact that you were just like her. Well except for the fact that you lacked confidence in your abilities. Another reason she was hard on you. She wouldn’t see your potential wasted. But you worked hard like her, tennis was the love of your life like her.
He watched as Tashi served to you, intense and laser focused. Then you, playing back with the same intensity and just as passionate. It’s almost magical to watch until you hesitate and miss the ball.
Tashi’s on your ass before the ball can even hit the ground. “What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you in it?”
You stammer a reply that Art can’t hear. Probably an apology. His feet are moving closer before he can even think of a reason why.
“No, tell me. What’s got you so off your game lately? Because you’re not going to fucking embarrass me at your next matches because you can’t get your head out your ass.”
“Tash lighten up.” He’s ignored which is to be expected. She stares at you intensely awaiting your answer.
“How am I supposed to lighten up when she’s playing like she never held a racket before, huh?” Again she sees the twitch in your eyebrows. Good, you’re angry.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know-” Tashi holds up her hand. She doesn’t want your apology.
“You know what- if you don’t want to tell me what the problem is,” She grabs your phone which has been continuously lighting up since you started. “I’m sure this will.’
You draw in a breath of air in surprise but you make no move to stop her. Your eyes wide at the invasion, but still ever so respectful even when your privacy is being violated.
Almost immediately her eyebrows sprout up. “I thought we agreed on no boyfriends for this reason?” she shakes her head continuing to scroll through your phone as if it were hers. Art draws closer to her in interest, now intrigued about your phone as well,
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You’re embarrassed, your grip on your racket tightening as you get angry at the way she’s shaming you.
“Obviously.” She mutters. She pauses a moment, both her and Art sharing a look and you know they’ve gotten to the most mortifying part.
“Well if something would shake someone’s confidence it would be that.” You cringe, finally going to take your phone back only to be pushed back by Tashi.
“What did we talk about when it came to how you let people talk to you off the court and how it affects your game on the court?” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes.
“I can’t control what other people say” You can’t stop the edge in your voice.
“But you can control what you say. You didn’t even try to stand up for yourself. This-” She shoves the phone at you with a picture of you half naked with the word unfuckable, in the center of the screen. “Is pathetic. “ You look away when she starts scrolling more like you don’t already know the rest of the verbal assault that had been issued towards you, and then a video of your so-called boyfriend with your next opponent and the lewd graphics that came with it.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” You don’t mean for your response to be so angry. Or for the hot tears that started burning your eyes to fall. But the frustrations of your day had started to take a toll on you. So when you finally snatch your phone back from Tashi and get ready to storm off you miss the pleased look on her face. Art doesn’t though, he almost shakes his head knowing it was her intention to rile you up in the first place.
She raises an eyebrow at him, and just as she expects him to, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. The perfect good cop. “It’s okay, kid.” You’re tense in his arms, it reminds him of the times he’s tried to comfort Tashi and she wouldn’t allow it, but after a few moments of him rubbing your back you finally relax. .
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” You start, but Tashi interrupts.
“Apologize for standing up for yourself and I’ll make you run until you pass out.” You wipe your eyes roughly and nod. Stepping away from Art’s hug and trying your best to put your game face back on.
“You got that out of your system now?” You nod again, but after a pointed gaze you speak.
“Yes.”
“Good now let’s talk about how you respond to this kind of bad sportsmanship.”
******
The outfit Tashi has you in, is just barely appropriate, You look focused, despite the whistles you’ve received on your way in. You look a little angry actually.
Art glances at Tashi beside him, who looks all too pleased. “What’d you do?”
“I didn’t have to do anything.” She’s almost bragging. He follows her line of sight to Tashi’s opponent and sees her and your not boyfriend smirking at you.
He wants to ask Tashi if she thinks this will shake your confidence more, but then he looks back at you laser focused as you stretch and he decides not to question it.
The match starts off intense with your serve. Your opponent looks surprised and even though she quickly recovers. Art can tell that this will be a win for you even though he knows Tashi despises that kind of over confident thinking.
As the match continues Tashi is gripping her seat for support. So enthralled in the game and invested in the fearlessness you’re displaying she can barely contain herself.
At one point during a break you’re caught trash talking your opponent. Tashi is sure to get you for it later. Even though the only thing she hears clearly is “enjoy my sloppy seconds” with a saccharine smile on your face. The deduction you receive is definitely worth it.
When you win as expected. Tashi is nearly buzzing and Art can’t hold back his excitement either.
****
“See this is what happens when you’re a winner.” Tashi tells you. She quite literally holding Art’s balls as he fucks into you.
“Winners are fuckable, tell her Art.” He gasps, feeling her squeeze him.
“Fuck-” He breathes. “Did so good.” You spasm around him at the praise, pulling a loud groan from him. “Knew you were gonna win, kid.”
Your whines and whimpers are muffled by Tashi’s hand. “Fuck her faster, she’s gonna come.” Art obeys immediately despite the fact that he is much too close himself. Your eyes roll back at the change of pace.
“There you go.” She squeezes Art’s balls once you start cumming so that he can too. He tries to pull himself out of you before but he can’t and leaves a sticky mess all over your cunt. “Fuck”
Tashi mounts you before you can stop twitching, lining her pussy up with yours, holding your leg over her shoulder. “Now next time I tell you to do something,, you’ll listen to me.” She starts slowly, spreading the mixture of both you and Art’s orgasm on both of you.
“Isn’t that right?” You nodding makes her speed up, giving you that look of disapproval.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, yes, yes I’ll listen to you.”
“Yeah I know you will, because now you know what good girls get.” She continues to grind against you skilfully.
“And next time you don’t listen to me-” You feel your core tense up again. “I will spank you until you cry.” Just like that you’re gone again. The masochistic side of you envisioning the picture that will haunt your fantasies until you get it.
You don’t realize the loud moan you hear is you, until Art is kissing you sloppily to silence your cries. ‘You like that don’t you?” You hear Tashi say. You want to tell her yes but you can’t with Art’s tongue down your throat. You think she knows the answer anyway.
The contrast between the way that Tashi is fucking you so vigorously and the slow kisses Art is giving you puts your head in a spin. On top of that your overstimulated clit is making it hard for you to think at all.
“Coach please-” You beg. “My pussy can’t;” You’re cut off immediately.
“Who knows what's best for you? Me or you?”
“You!” By this time tears are flowing down your face, as you feel another orgasm building all too quickly. Art wipes them, then moves his hands down to pinch your nipples.
“Exactly. Now cum.”
#challengers#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#tashi x art#tashi x reader#tashi x art x reader#tashi duncan smut#fantasylandloserfic
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Help! My Husband Only Wants to Work, Nap, and Join a Gym on our Ten-Day Vacation in Vancouver
…but like, seriously, those are the things he suggested for today, the day after it snowed almost a foot overnight, and where my car is stuck in its parking spot at the Airbnb because I can’t get enough traction to get it out
My dear, ONE of your suggestions was a good one for today and then you napped through when I expected to be able to take a bus to the science museum and then to the grocery store and then back to the Airbnb like a normal person’s vacation and like we wanted to do, so now your alternative is… let’s go to the gym, go to a cafe to do work, or hang out in a mall until we want to eat dinner? Oh no. No no no no. Bab. There are better things that we can do even when the entire city is full of snow (which is also largely shoveled and melted from pedestrian paths, by the way, because it’s a beautiful sunny 40 degree day!!)
ALSO I HAVE PRESENTS FOR YOU IN THE CAR and it has been SHOCKINGLY difficult to get you to want to open the PRESENTS that I have IN THE CAR FOR YOU
#also how do you propose to get to the gym because I am not letting you drive my car in the snow#when you white-knuckled your way through being a passenger yesterday after dinner when the car was slipping and sliding a little bit#and you don’t understand the concept of ‘if it’s slippery we might need to push the car to get it out’#and you’re NOT going to walk like two miles to the gym#and you don’t fully understand how buses work#anyway. we’re going to teach our favorite Saudi How to Winter#stay tuned#also I forgot he’s doing his insane diet stuff which is also where the gym comes in#I will go play tennis with you but I draw the line at going to the gym#and your fake coffee smells like weird soy sauce and diet coffee??? wtf no I will not be having any#I love you but damn
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Game Night | Quinn Hughes
summary: when you and Quinn have the lake house to yourself he comes up with the perfect way to turn pool into an interesting game.
request: yes/no
warnings: mature themes, p in v, unprotected sex, swearing, oral (fem receiving!), semi-proof read.
word count: 3.48k
authors note: from the moment I got this request I knew I had to write it cause I had been thinking about it the all day… low-key edited your request but that’s only because once I thought about strip pool it was the only thing I could think of. I know I got the whole two shot rule wrong but let’s be real here, you aren’t reading this to learn about pool.
This was meant to be the weekend before the storm hit.
Quinn had convinced you to join him at the lake house days before the rest of the boys joined you two.
The lake house wasn’t uncharted territory for you. Quinn met you the day he moved to Vancouver, the interaction was short at first but when you ended it reminding him that he was always welcome over so you could show him your favourite takeaway places in the city.
It didn’t take long for you two to become friends but once it happened you were quickly sent into a spiral that catapulted the friendship to the best friend category. Ellen met you during one of her many trips to the Canadian city when she was checking up on her son, it made her smile how you were the only thing that Quinn would talk about.
When she encouraged him to bring you back to the lake house it made Quinn feel at ease how you seemed to slip right into the family dynamics, by the third day of you being the Jim even let you be his second chef at the barbecue, something he didn’t even let his own wife do.
Somehow throughout all of the years of friendship you two never crossed the line that went over to the romantic side of things. Sure people swore you did, the way his hand always found its way around your lap or how your favourite seat seemed to be his lap. But you two swore that it was always friendly, now that didn’t mean that the thought of Quinn’s head between your legs didn’t cross your mind during those lonely night when you had nothing more than the help of your vibrator. Yet you managed to keep Quinn unaware of the fact that he was your new favourite thought to get off to “you good?” He snapped his fingers in front of your face as you zoned out.
You were quick to shake your head as a crimson coat spread across your cheeks “I-I’m great.” You stuttered as you nodded quickly getting up to get yourself another drink.
Unaware of the arousal that formed between your thighs, Quinn followed you “I was thinking we should play some pool to end the night?” He proposed as he leaned against the frame of the door flexing his biceps as he crossed his arms.
You took a gulp of your seltzer letting the fruity liquid hit the back of your throat “you seriously want to play? You furrowed your eyebrows knowing that when the boys arrived pool and table tennis would be two of the only activities you’d do as a group inside.
It made him chuckle “thought we could play with a twist.” Quinn shrugged with a devilish smirk that spread across his face.
Something told you to hear him out as curiosity got the best of you “I’m listening,” you batted your eyelashes as you looked up at him “remember strip poker?”
That was a time of your life when you brought Quinn along to the last college party you went to as the frat boys thought it was a smart idea to play strip poker “I’m going to stop you right there.” You cut him off drawing a groan from his lips.
The Canucks player as he thought it was a good way to spice the evening up “you think you’re gonna lose?” Quinn teased knowing that he was pressing your competitive buttons.
A scoff left your lips “you’re on Hughesy.” You pointed your finger at him before you pushed past him making sure that you were in the pool room first.
Whilst Quinn had lost his hat and shoes you had lost your socks and both your bracelet and necklace to the game. Meaning that each of you were going to have to start removing actual clothes for the next balls “what are you thinking of going with?” Quinn smirked as he looked up to you once he potted in his fifth ball into the hole that was in front of you.
You rolled your eyes as you let your pool stick rest against the wall “don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted me to take off first.” You mumbled to yourself as you pulled your shirt over your head revealing the sky blue bra that you were wearing.
He didn’t mean to stare, truly that wasn’t his plan. But it felt wrong to Quinn to let you show off such a stunning bra that made your boobs look like they were the only things in this world to not have them be appreciated.
Your hair was tucked behind your ears letting him truly get the perfect view of them when you reached forward for your stick “I’ll be nice and let you pick which one I should pot next.” You proposed as you placed your other hand on your hip “orange,” he pointed to the easiest ball for you to get in as it was right in front of the hole.
It made you laugh “something tells me that you want me to see you all shirtless,” you raised your eyebrows as he nodded.
The grin he sent you was toothy “been told that my chest is my best feature,” your face scrunched at the thought of the time you had seen him after an adventurous night with a girl. His chest looked like it had stripes for a week “better get stripping then.” You smirked as you got the ball in with ease.
This was how the game continued on with the clearly flirtatious banter until you were each left in nothing more than your underwear or at least that was until Quinn got the last of his regular balls in “no wolf whistles,” you joked as you reached behind your back to unclimbed your bra.
Quinn swore he forgot how to breathe as he watched the blue straps fall from your arms letting him get the perfect view of your perky breasts. What truly surprised him though was the titanium bar you had pierced through one of your nipples “could have counted that as a piece of jewellery.” He pointed out as he motioned to it attempting to ignore the way his mouth watered at the thought of tasting it.
You smiled as you placed your hand on your chest by your collar bones “where would the fun be in that?” You asked as your tongue darted over your lips watching him get the first double turn of the game as it seemed to be a stupid rule that the Hughes family played with.
He had to admit that it was hard trying to focus on the ball whilst you were stood there running your fingers over the side of your waist in nothing more than some little white thong that looked like it shouldn’t have even been described as underwear there was so little fabric.
In that moment he swore that the universe was on his side as he had hit the wrong side of the ball but the black ball still dropped into a pot with the white ball hanging dangerously close to the edge with it stopped. You took your loss like a champ hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties “I wanna get my prize myself.” The beer in Quinn gave him that boost of confidence “come and get it then,” you smirked crossing your arms just below your breasts as you pushed them up.
It didn’t take him long as his strides were large “you better not be fucking with me,” he warned when his hands replaced yours in the waistband of your thong.
The air between you two was heavy as even a knife wouldn’t have been able to cut this “it’s all for your taking Quinny.” The mumble of your voiced sounded like heaven to him as Quinn helped you out of the white undergarment groaning when his eyes landed on the wet patch that had formed where your core sat “you seeing how much I enjoyed that?” You asked as he looked back up at you.
Your thong was quickly thrown onto the ground so that his hands could go to your waist “cause it looks like you felt the same.” Your hand moved between the two of you so that you could cup his balls as you began to palm his bones through his boxers.
Quinn’s head landed on your shoulder as he thought his legs were going to give out “fuck don’t stop,” he begged as you clicked your tongue “gonna need to get that final ball in to remove those boxers.” You teased with a grin evident on your face.
On the other hand it made Quinn annoyed “happy?” He asked as he dropped your blue ball into the pot next to him “ecstatic,” you leaned forward to kiss him.
His beer mixed with the taste of your berry seltzer as you moaned when Quinn pushed you against pool table letting your ass met the cool wood.
He loved how you tasted, sure you had never crossed this line but that didn’t mean that the thought never crossed his mind “fuck you’re so hot,” Quinn confessed as he pulled away feeling your fingers crawl under the waist band on his boxers.
A giggle left your lips “thinking you enjoyed this more than me.” You teased pointed down to what now looked like a painfully hard boner “could see you like this all the time.” Quinn announced as his lips moved down to your neck so he could nip that the parts of your body continuing to show that part of your chest love until he got to your pierced nipple “saw how much you liked this.” Your voice was soft as you felt vulnerable watching him stare at the piece of jewellery.
When his lips wrapped around it you seriously thought you were going to fall onto the table behind you “dear god,” your nails went to the nape of his neck when Quinn brought his hand to your other nipple so it wouldn’t feel left out.
The round texture of the balls that were attached to the bar made Quinn groan as each whimper than left your lips every time he hit it went straight to his cock “I need more Quinny, please.” It was now your turn to beg as you didn’t think that you were about to last much longer.
It made him smirk as he removed his lips from your nipple with a pop “so fucking pretty for me baby,” Quinn mumbled as he cupped your face with his hands when he pulled you into a kiss.
Now your back hit the fabric of the table as your arms wrapped around his neck bringing him down with you “my needy little baby,” he groaned as you began to grind your clit against his boxers.
A smile formed on your face as you felt his hands hook under your knees “I gotta taste you,” Quinn confessed as you nodded letting out little pleads as he moved his lips down your body “looking so fucking good from down here.” His voice made your body shake with anticipation as you felt his hands run down your legs.
The hockey player leaned down so that he was eye level with your core “you been waiting for this haven’t you?” Quinn smirked as he placed sloppy kisses against your thigh moving closer to your pussy.
But rather than stopping where you wanted him to he instead moved to your other thigh repeating his previous actions “please Quinn,” your voice came out shaky as you watched him come to a standstill with your pussy in front of him “seen the way you look at me.” Quinn clicked his tongue as he used two fingers to rub your clit nicely wetting it with your juices.
Your hands cupped your nipples teasing them both “needed you for so long,” you gasped as you felt those two fingers thrust inside of you.
He smiled hearing your confession “all you had to do was tell me you wanted this baby.” The Canucks player mumbled as he placed a kiss against your clit “could have all been yours years ago.” There was a sparkle in his eyes as he wrapped his lips around your clit letting his tongue run over the nub whilst his fingers didn’t let up their thrusts.
It was a good thing that nobody was in the house as you swore the neighbours could hear you “god don’t stop.” Your fingers locked into his growing hair making you grateful that he hadn’t cut it yet.
Quinn watched on in awe as your eyes were screwed shut and your face went scrunched as you clenched around him “god ain’t here with us baby.” His voice made you groan as he spoke with his mouth still against your clit.
Your chest began to rise and fall at a quicker rate “just like that Quinn,” you mumbled as you dug your head further into the table trying to push your hips closer to him.
Throughout the rest of the house your moans bounced off of the walls “what do you want baby?” Quinn asked as he used his thumb to rub your clit “tell me and I promise I’ll give it to you.” He added letting his mouth go back to what it was doing.
Brain fog seemed to hit you hard as your eyes stirred, remaining silent until you felt his hand pinch at your waist “please let me come.” You begged letting your lips form a pout “need it. Need it so bad.” Your whines went straight to his boxers making him realise that he was going to have to pull his boxers off the second he was done with you.
Quinn smiled “not gonna make you beg baby, want to make you come.” He cooed increasing the pace of his fingers as you gasped.
That was all you needed to hear from him as it pushed you over the edge “s-shit shit.” Your body shuddered as the boy made sure to help you through your orgasm as he didn’t let up on his actions “Quinny,” you whined as you tried to pull away from him but remained unsuccessful.
When you tugged at his hair Quinn got the hint as he moved back up to your face “feeling good baby?” Quinn asked as he kissed your lips letting you taste your release on his tongue.
With the little energy that you had left you pushed yourself forward “so good,” your hips clenched at the feeling of the pool table wall against your bum.
It made you feel bad when you saw how painful his boner looked “wanna fuck you,” you confessed as you palmed his cock over his boxers.
Quinn didn’t waste any time letting out a groan as the feeling of your fingers made him weak in the knees. The hockey player didn’t stop you when you got off of the table and hooked your fingers in his waist band so that could do a slut drop when you pulled his boxers down “don’t even think about it.” Quinn warned seeing you lick your lips as you were met with his cock.
A pout formed on your lips as that clearly wasn’t what you wanted to hear “I’m not gonna last long and I need to come inside of you.” He explained hooking his fingers under your jaw helping you back up.
It made you giggle “fuck me like you know you can Quinn,” you mumbled as you pecked his lips.
His hands gave your ass a squeeze “wanted this for years.” Just because you two acted like friends didn’t mean that all of the thoughts that ran through your heads were all platonic.
You let your hand run over his cock “want to feel every inch of you.” Your confession combined with the kiss you placed on his earlobe made his eyes almost roll back “what are you waiting for them?” He asked spinning you around as your hands handed in the table.
Unintentionally your core clenched around nothing as the anticipation for the best of you “my cock hungry little girl,” Quinn mumbled into your ear as he kissed your temple before he grabbed his cock letting it run over your clit twice before he slowly pushed himself inside of your pussy.
Your head fell back onto his shoulder “fuck Quinn!” You slapped your hand over your mouth as you adjusted to his size.
It made him laugh as his fingers dug into your hips sure to leave bruises tomorrow “enjoying it princess?” He asked as he kissed your shoulder letting his teeth sink in just hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow.
All you could do was nod as you felt him hit your g-spot making you grateful that you weren’t on the table “don’t stop,” you blurted out enjoying how good it felt as he continued to fuck you.
The sound of skin slapping was blissful as you both only had one thing in mind, to come. Quinn felt like he was the weaker person in this battle as your pussy squeezed him in all the right ways “this pussy was made for me,” the boy announced as his hand reached in front of you to rub your clit.
When you didn’t respond it made the boy smile as your eyes began to roll back “just for you,” you cooed unaware of the grunt the boy released “all for you baby.” You added using all of your energy to face him as he brought his lips down to yours, the salty taste of your real ease still clear on his tongue.
Each time he thrusted forward your hips went back to meet his resulting in moans and whimpers coming from both of you “you want me to last much longer then you gotta stop doing that.” Quinn warned as he watched you bring your hand up when you wrapped it behind his neck making sure that he stayed close to you.
That statement acted like encouragement for you to do it again as you smiled “don’t tease me baby.” The boy grumbled as he brought his hand to your ass giving it a slap.
Instead of giving you a moment to respond his fingers that hadn’t left your clit now began to rub faster “please Quinn.” You begged feeling your toes wanting to scrunch up as you were teetering ever so closer to your high.
The hockey player wasn’t far behind you “take it baby.” Quinn groaned as his fingers dug harder into your hips “that it all.” He added as held increased his thrusts too.
It wasn’t any surprise that your second orgasm of the night quickly came over you “holy fuck!” Almost all of your body went limp besides for your pussy that clenched around Quinn’s cock spurring on his own orgasm “so good baby.” He cooed letting his cock flop out of you when he let out a gasp.
Your release trickled down your legs “that’s never happened before.” You announced growing red with embarrassment.
The boy didn’t let you feel that way for long “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He confessed as Quinn tilted your head up to his so that he could kiss you.
A smile formed on your lips “want to join me in the bath?” You asked letting your fingers trace up his arm “lead the way princess.” Quinn nodded letting his hands leave your sides when you eventually were able to make your way to the staircase.
four days later
The boys were having a blast being back together under the same roof. They loved getting to do all of the things that the lake house let them, from the boat rides to the long games of pool and table tennis.
Quinn had to admit that he was enjoying where things were with you. It was easy with the lack of expectations but the Canucks player definitely planned on taking you on a boat ride just the two of you do that he could ask you out.
But for now he was going to have to wait as a game of pool called his name “this table looks off,” Jack announced as he furrowed his eyebrows.
Both yours and Quinn’s eyes went wide “what do you mean?” You asked as you stood next to the younger boy.
The devils player motioned to the marks on the carpet that showed that it had definitively been knocked “see,” Jack pointed out as he pushed the table back to its original position totally unaware of the looks of relief that ran over your and Quinn’s faces.
This was going to stay your little secret for now.
#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#nhl imagine#nhl oneshot#imagines#oneshots#hockey smut#nhl smut#amber writes fics
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The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader
Part Two - Low Tolerance For Dehydration
Chapter Summary - We begin to learn the truth about why these kids are the way they are. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)
Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / Kleptomania / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Drug References / Stereotyping / Angst
Word Count - 7.2k
(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)
(Part One)
-----
Saturday.
October 25th, 1984.
Hawkins High Library.
10:30am.
~~~~~
After that rather thrilling event courtesy of Eddie Munson and Principal Higgins, the next two hours went on forever.
The grinding of gears, the hum of the electric motor, and the movement of the clock's hands invaded the silence. The second hand made a rapid clicking sound. You counted each one. At twenty-second intervals, the minute hand squeaked. The clock sounds became the percussion for a lullaby that almost lulled you to sleep.
Eddie remained seated next to you, spending the better part of an hour sulking that he had just wrecked the rest of his winter. The rest of the time, he spent scratching markings into the table with his car keys (which you immediately told him to stop out of annoyance. He ignored you, of course) and counting all the pictures he can see in the medullary rays of the wood. In his mind, he connected the lines and dots. Before his eyes, they formed the crude outline of a shapely woman with her legs rudely spread apart. He used the notebook paper to cover it up. He did not want to spend the next five and a half hours with a boner he couldn't get rid of. Especially one given to him by something as ridiculous as an imaginary table lady.
Steve was lazily picking off the fuzz of a tennis ball that he found in the lost and found box behind the front desk, piling it up in a small illuminous heap. The bald patches reminded him of principal Higgin's round, balding head. He picked at it harder, really digging his fingernails into the stringy felt like it had personally offended him.
Nancy was trying to write her paper. Normally, the undisturbed silence would be prime time to work on an essay, but she began staring off into space, her mind wondering. All she had managed to write was a title 'Who Am I?', her name, the date, and the time. Each time she would bring herself back to reality, she would check her watch, then erase the time and write the new one.
Robin was hunched over, hidden in her hair as she scribbled over her cherry red converse. She wrote whatever came to mind; her name, milk duds, a drawing of the top half of a naked woman, a copy of her fingerprint. She kept going until the red had almost disappeared.
You rested your head in your palms, eyes looking up as you counted the tiles on the ceiling. You got to thirty eight when Eddie nudged you. You opened your mouth to scold him for making you lose count, when he slid a sheet of paper over to you. He'd drawn a tic-tac-toe grid and placed an X in the centre square. You grabbed a pencil and drew a circle in the top right corner, deciding to keep him entertained before he starts causing more trouble. He smiled cutely when you slid the paper back to him.
The two of you played until both sides looked like a gingham tea towel. Much to your distaste, you lost 38 - 43. Eddie pulled tongues as the victor and you decided then to never play tic-tac-toe with Eddie again; you didn't want his head getting bigger than it already was.
The library door swung open and Principal Higgins stood with a scowling face.
"All right. Who has to go to the rest room?"
All hands shot up.
Higgins gave a single nod, signalling that everyone could get out of their seats. You groaned in relief when your spine cracked, though you still had pins and needles in your left foot and your butt was numb from sitting on it for too long. The Principal lead you all down the hall to the restrooms, where he unlocked them with a jingling of keys.
"Two minutes for the boys. Three minutes for the girls." He stared at his watch like he was already starting the count down.
"How come they get an extra minute?" Eddie complained, pointing at the group of girl who all had their arms crossed, looking at him like the answer was obvious.
"Try and remember your biology, Munson." Principal Higgins rolled his eyes, still staring at his watch.
"Oh, right. Does that mean Harrington gets another minute?"
Annoyed, Steve pushed through into the bathroom. Eddie followed behind, laughing manically.
The two of them rarely used the schools restroom, even for Eddie who was kind of a slob, they were too disgusting. Students only ever really used them to hide when skipping classes. The walls were covered in graffiti and a few of the tiles were cracked, and there was always something on the floor that made the bottom of their shoes sticky. They didn't even want to try to guess what it was. Steve stood in front of the urinal and unzipped his jeans. Eddie hopped onto the countertop and fished through his hair to retrieve the cigarette from behind his ear.
"You want one?"
Steve took a peek behind him. "Oh yeah, ten of 'em please. I need to prove I'm a man."
"Whatever man." That was the last time Eddie would offer Steve anything ever again.
He fumbled in his pocket, took out a lighter and lit his cigarette.
Meanwhile, the state of the girls bathroom wasn't much better. The floors were less sticky, but there was always tissue all over the place, and a funny smell in the air.
"Is this a drag, or what?" You looked at your tired eyes in the reflection and started complaining about them to the girls.
Nancy rummaged through her purse, pulling out perfume bottles, make-up, compacts, brushes; an incredible amount of things that she probably didn't need. Nancy very helpfully let you borrow the make-up out of her bag. You were looking as good as new in no time.
"You want one?" Robin pulled out a pack of spearmint gum and stuck one in her mouth.
You looked at her repulsed. "Robin, you can't eat in the bathroom. What if you get VD of the mouth or something!"
She paused like she hadn't thought about that. She quickly walked to the sink and washed her hands. She grabbed a paper towel to dry them and then used it to open the door. She held the door open with her foot, wadded up the paper towel and made a three pointer into the waste bin. A shot that even Steve would find impressive, even if she did surprise herself making it in the first place. She didn't show that though.
"You're into washing your hands, but you eat inches away from a live toilet?"
She gave you an offended glare her, and left the bathroom, letting the door close on you and Nancy. You turned to Nancy and gave her a look that said 'I'm not crazy for thinking that am I?'.
"I mean that was a little disgusting, but you could have worded it a bit nicer."
She walked out, leaving you wondering whose side she was on.
"I didn't mean to upset you." You called after Robin. "I was just reacting to something I thought was seriously weird. I mean, I'll listen if you needed some one to talk to about it."
Robin didn't give you the time of day, just rolled her eyes to herself. She didn't appreciate the way you worded your apology; like she was the one with the problem.
"Let's go. Shake it off!" Higgins called into the boys bathroom.
Even with the extra minute you were given, the girls still managed to be done before the boys. Eddie opened the door, smelling strongly of tobacco.
"Where's Harrington?"
"Drowned." Eddie said bluntly.
The Principal crossed to the door and peaked his head in. "Alright, Harrington, c'mon. Lets go!"
Steve made a few final adjustments to his hair, raking his fingers through it to position his chestnut curls perfectly on his head. Principal Higgins dragged him out before he could finish.
~~~~~
11:30am
~~~~~
You laid across three chairs as some sort of make shift bed and tucked your coat underneath your head for a pillow. You had planned to take a nap, but Nancy had decided to sharpen her pencil. The winding and grinding of the sharpener grated your ears. She knew she was making a lot of noise, but she couldn't seem to get a good point on her pencil. She took it out of the sharpener, blew the dust from the tip, and examined it before shoving it back in. She had three quarters left of her pencil.
Steve had a straight leg on the front table and reached over to touch his toes, stretching his hamstring. How he did it in those jeans was beyond you. His little grunts of effort and heavy breaths as he switched legs annoyed you almost as much as Nancy's sharpening. Robin was in her same seat, picking at her black, chipped nails in her lap and chewing her gum loudly out of spite. How you had gone from sitting in hours of silence, to a sudden ruckus when you wanted to sleep was just your luck.
Eddie had chosen to sit in front of you on the table, ripping out pages of textbooks from the history section.
Nancy winced at each tear. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Princess? I'm vandalising public property." He said it like it was obvious, loudly ripping another page to emphasise his point. "You get off on being stupid, or something?"
"You're such a waste."
Eddie placed the book gently on the table, giving it a few taps for good measure. He sat up straight, hands on his knees like a teachers pet. He nodded sarcastically in agreement. "You're absolutely right. It's wrong to destroy literature. It's such fun."
He jumped down off the desk, kicking up loose pages as he stalked over to his next victim: the card files. He pulls out the entire draw completely and lugged it back over to his spot on the desk. The unexpected slam of it on the table startled you, and you sat up with a huff. There was no way you were getting sleep any time soon.
Nancy scoffed as he began yanking the catalogue cards out and putting them back in a random order, creating a horrible mess for someone to sort out later. She continued to grind the sharpener.
"Big deal." You mocked her, she and the sharpener were really starting to get on your nerves. "It's not like there's anything better to do."
Eddie was impressed. He turned to you. "You grounded tonight?"
His question threw you off, but you knew there was definitely more to it. "No, why?"
He looked surprised that you weren't, but he didn't know that your parents weren't even aware you were here in the first place. "Reefer Rick is throwing a Halloween party down by Lover's Lake tonight. Wanna come?"
Apparently, all it took was a few games of tic-tac-toe to get into Eddie's good books. There was a part of you that wanted to go. It was another excuse to get away from your parents, but you didn't want to imagine the shit you would get from Carol if she found out you had gone to a party with Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. Then Billy crept back into your mind. Your blood went cold at the thought. You knew he wasn't here, but you expected him to come charging through the doors any second now. You had to make sure he knew you weren't interested in Eddie. You didn't want another repeat of this morning.
"Why would I want to go to that crackhead's place? I'll probably catch a disease."
Eddie looked a little disappointed and a little offended that you had insulted his friend, but he hid it well. So why did you feel kind of bad?
You looked up at him with big eyes. "I mean, my mom doesn't like me going to parties anyway."
"What about your dad?"
"If I do what my mom doesn't want me to it's because my dad says it's okay. And if I do what my dad doesn't want me to it's because my mom says it's okay. It's like this whole big monster deal. It lasts forever and it's a total drag. It's like any minute: divorce." You hated talking about your parents, but I felt good to get off your chest. Carol and Tommy never cared to ask.
"Who do you like better?"
"Huh?"
"You like your old man better than your mom?"
"They're both screwed." You sighed. You didn't like where this conversation was headed anymore. Nancy had stopped sharpening her pencil and you could feel everyone listening in.
"If you had to pick?"
"I don't know. I mean, they must have loved each other at some point, but I guess I wasn't around for that part. So I don't think any of them really care about me either. They just use me as ammunition in their little wars."
"HA!" Your response had provoked a laugh from Robin. A laugh that let you know she thought you deserved it. She was more offended by that comment in the bathroom than you had thought.
"You're just feeling sorry for yourself." Steve added, shaking out his legs.
You didn't find it very fair that they were ganging up on you all of a sudden. "If I didn't, nobody else would."
"Oh, you're breaking my heart." But Steve didn't sound sincere at all. You weren't enjoying this side of Steve one bit. And it was all because of Billy.
"Do you get along with your parents?" Eddie sided with you.
"If I say, yes, I'm a real idiot, right?"
"I think you're an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, you'll be a liar, too."
"You know something, I've just about had it with you. If we weren't in school, man, I'd wail all over you. They'd have to pick you up with tweezers."
Eddie didn't seem fazed. Eddie got threats like this all the time, it wasn't anything he hadn't already heard before.
"I don't really get along with my parents." Nancy piped up, trying to get the boys attention away from each other so there wasn't a brawl in the middle of the library.
"Yeah right, you're every parent's wet dream."
"That's the problem." She paused, you saw her eyes glaze over then looked at you. "I don't think my parents ever loved each other either."
Everyone was silent, looking at her like they were waiting for her to burst into tears. She regretted bring it up.
"They must have married for some reason?" Steve asked. Whether it was because he was being nosey, or he was concerned for her, you couldn't tell.
"My mom was younger. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family."
"Screw that."
"Yeah, screw that."
"I could see you not liking them for making you wear those kind of clothes, but, shit, what else would you be doing if you weren't busy making yourself a better citizen?" Eddie clearly hadn't read the room.
"Why do you have to insult everybody?" Eddie was really pushing Steve's limits. You noticed it happened especially when it came to Nancy.
"I'm being honest, asshole. I'd expect you to know the difference." He said it like he had had a similar argument with Steve in the past.
Nancy raised her middle finger at him.
"Whoa, obscene gestures from such a pristine girl."
"I'm not that pristine." Nancy argued, though she regretted it almost immediately.
She cleared her throat and make her way back to her seat.
"Are you a virgin?" She caught Steve's eye, they shared a look, but Eddie missed it. "I'll bet you a million dollars that you are."
"Would you take that bet, Robin?"
"Not really."
"That's the last time I call you 'Robin', Buckley."
He continued. "Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, shoes off...hoping to God your parents don't walk in?"
Nancy was getting upset. "Do you want me to puke?"
"Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvin's in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?"
You squeezed your thighs together. His voice was deep and masculine, sending you off into an alluring day dream. You found yourself in the back seat of a car, a strong man towering over you, rough hands caressing your soft skin. He takes off your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the night, nipples hardening. He's groping them, kissing them, loving on them. Your moaning and he's trailing his lips lower. Your hands thread themselves in his brown, wavy hair. He's pulling your panties down with his teeth, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. And suddenly you were in the back of his van, pulling off his patched, demin jacket until he's leaning over you completely naked. He put his lips to your ear, whispering --
"Hey, why don't you leave her alone!" Steve breaks you out of your imagination.
"You gonna make me?"
"Yeah."
"You and whose army?"
"Just me and five of my fingers. I hit you. You hitting floor. Anytime you're ready."
Eddie realised that Steve was being serious, but doesn't believe he is quite capable of making good on his threat.
"Yeah? You want a black eye to go with that split lip? You couldn't fight Billy Hargrove, what makes you think you can beat me?"
Your chest tightened at his name and your eyes darted to the door. They stayed shut. It calmed you a little, but your heart was still beating against your ribcage. You placed a hand there in case it burst out. You wondered how Eddie knew about the fight at the party, you hadn't seen him there. But then again, word travels fast around Hawkins High. Your breathing became heavy. All this arguing was making you dizzy. You could do without a repeat of last Thursday.
"Try me."
"Eddie." You pleaded him not to retaliate, swallowing down your pride for a second of peace.
He looked at you, and suddenly Eddie was not in the mood to fight Steve. The fear in your eyes scared him a little. You were serious about them not fighting. But luckily for you, Eddie knew when to stop. Besides, there were ladies present, and he was a gentleman.
To some extent.
"Whatever man, I'm not getting into this with you."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" He paused. He wasn't going to tell Steve he did it for you. "'Cause I'd kill you. It's real simple, you'd die and your fucking parents would sue me and It'd be a big mess and I don't care enough about you to bother. So drop it."
"Chicken."
"You know, you should see a doctor. I think those steroids are frying your brain."
Steve just laughed him off, believing that he had scared Eddie into yielding and he was just giving one last dig to preserve his pride. Eddie looked a Nancy, but she was already staring at him.
"What is it that makes you act like such a fool?"
"I'm not getting enough vitamin B."
Steve fumed. He wanted his fist to connect with that smartass mouth of his. "Let's end this right now. You don't talk to her...you don't look at her and you don't even think about her! You understand me?"
"I'm trying to help her." He said it like it was as plain as a pikestaff.
"Help me?" Nancy was insulted. "Why don't you work on yourself?"
"I did. I finished last Tuesday. Now I'm working on the rest of the world." He pointed at Steve, who looked about ready to swing. "I could help you, big boy."
"Spare me."
"I can help a lot of people, all they have to do is ask nicely."
"I'll kill you." Steve threatened with a clenched fist.
Eddie looked unmoved. He heard threats like that at least five times a day. "Well, I should just let you and everyone else who wants to kill me fight for the privilege."
There was a rumbling from beyond the library door. In a flurry of panic, everyone got themselves into position, acting like they hadn't moved an inch away from their seats. Eddie sat next to you again, accidently kicking your foot under the table. You kicked it back in annoyance. He did it again, only on purpose this time. 'What a child' you thought. You put your coat on the back of your chair and sat up straight, expecting Principal Higgins to come storming in.
Everybody visibly relaxed when Carl, the janitor, came rumbling in with his music playing quietly from his radio, dragging his cart behind him. He had a face you didn't quite know how to take; he looked friendly enough, but could turn at the snap of your fingers. He was skinny and stood at a height of 5"8, with a limp of a man who worked hard for his living. He smiled everyone, but the only one who seems the acknowledge him was Robin. She returned the smile and gave him a small wave, in hopes of being nice but not letting the others see. He went into the librarians office and grabbed the waste basket.
"Hey Sweetheart, your dad's here."
You gave him an unamused smile and kicked his shin under the desk once more.
Carl came out of the office and dumped the basket on his cart. He left his cart in the main library and walked down the pathway to grab another trash bin at the back of the room.
"Hey, Carl?"
Carl paused in surprise that any student here, with the exception of Robin, would talk to him. He turned around, but Eddie still remained facing the front, putting his back to him.
"How does one become a janitor."
Everyone supressed a giggle, even Steve despite his dislike for Eddie. Only Robin remained silent. She didn't find it very funny.
"You want to become a janitor?" Carl raised an eyebrow.
"No I just wanna know how one becomes a janitor because Steve here, is very interested in perusing a career in the custodial arts."
Steve stopped laughing at that. Carl scratched his head. He knew that they were making fun of him. But Carl wasn't one someone should mess with. He turned off his radio, pulled off his rubber gloves and shoved them in his back pocket.
"You guys think I'm just a lowly janitor. Some fucking untouchable peasant. Maybe so, but following a broom around after shitheads like you for five years, I've learned a few things. I read your notes, I go through your letters. I listen to your conversations. I am the eyes and ears of this institution. I know where you are now and I know where you'll be in the future."
Everyone exchanged worried looks as Carl moved to tower in front of Eddie. "You got ten years, max. Drugs. Rundown trailer in West Texas. Whore wife takes the baby, you shoot a fatal dose. Probable? Maybe not. Possible? Think so."
He turned to you. "You get married to a guy with lots of material success. Corporate position. Big bucks. Black Jag. You have three kids, nobody gives a shit. You get divorced and have a big fuckin' heart attack at thirty-eight, thirty-nine."
Steve was next. "District sales manager for a golf club manufacturer. Shitty little compact company car, twenty-two five a year and a wife as big as a boxcar."
Finally, Nancy. "Six face-lifts and two boob jobs by forty and a husband with more girlfriends than anniversaries."
He stepped back and put on his gloves. The stunned reaction on everybody's faces made him smile. "But I'm just a janitor." He shrugged.
And with that, he grabbed his cart, wheeled it around and headed out. He paused at the door and looked at the clock.
"By the way, that thing's twenty minutes slow." He winked as he left and everybody groaned.
~~~~~
12:30pm
~~~~~
Everybody was bored out of their skulls after the shock of Carl's speech had worn off. You took the time to think about what he had said. He had tried to put a downer on you, but the life he had predicted for you sounded like paradise, compared to now. Even if you did only have twenty years left to live. As crazy as it sounded, it gave you a bit of hope. There was a chance that you could work up the courage to leave Billy and meet someone nice, or at least wealthy. You had never given any thought about having kids, especially not with Billy, but now, maybe you could see yourself with a kid. You'd want a boy, and he'd look just like his father; Curly brown hair, big russet eyes, and a toothy smile. What would you name him? Would you name him after his father? Maybe Michael, or Christopher, James. Edward? You liked that name.
Your eyes flashed to the door as it opened. Principal Higgins strolled in with a frown of his face, even though no one had done anything to upset him yet.
Yet.
"Thirty minutes for lunch." He declared.
"Excuse me Sir, I think the cafeteria would be a more suitable place to eat lunch."
"I don't care what you think, Harrington."
Steve sunk back into his seat.
"Uh, Dick?" Eddie cleared his throat. "Sorry, Richard. Will milk be made available to us? Someone like Steve could choke to death on a dry sandwich."
"I have a low tolerance for dehydration, Sir." Robin added.
"I've seen her dehydrated, Sir." Steve sat up again. "It's pretty gross."
You wondered if that was true, or if he was just playing along. The things he said about her, you wondered if they knew each other. Probably not, you brushed off the thought. They were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, there was no way they knew each other.
Principal Higgins scowled.
Eddie stood and raised his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal. "Relax, I'll get it."
"Ah,ah,ah. Grab some wood there, Munson. You think I was born yesterday? You don't fool me for one minute. I'm not having you roaming these halls."
Eddie plopped back into his seat with a defeated sigh. It was worth a shot.
"You." He pointed at Steve.
He eyed up the other students, skipping over Eddie as he decided who else was most suitable to leave. You sank into your seat. You did not fancy having some alone time with Steve. Steve stared directly at the Principal before darting his eyes to the right where Nancy was sat, signalling for him to pick her. She sat up to make herself more evident.
Higgins ignored them and pointed a finger at you. "And you. There's a soft drinks machine in the faculty lunch room."
You broke into a cold sweat. This was going to be the most awkward ten minutes of your life. Either Steve was just going to pretend you didn't exist, or he was going to absolutely grill you. You hoped for the former.
As you reluctantly got out of your seat, Steve held out a hand to the others for money. Nancy took out a change purse from her bag and handed him fifty cents. Robin does the same with the loose change in her jeans pocket. Eddie fished through his coat pockets. He found some assorted change, crumpled gum wrappers, some loose tobacco and a screw. He handed it all to Steve.
Steve made his way out, not even looking to see if you're following him. You do, of course, but you lagged behind him, not feeling particularly comfortable being alone with him. You counted your steps as you walked, fiddling with the delicate chain around your neck. It was a simple design: just your name written with gold, cursive lettering. But it was the only jewellery you never took off. Your parents had bought it for you when you had started cheerleading at eight years old. It was a reminder of when life was much more simple, when you believed that your parents actually loved each other, that they loved you.
A minute passed and you already couldn't stand the silence. You dreaded it, but you knew this would probably be the only opportunity you would get to hash out your grievances.
"Why do you hate me?" A forward start, but at least it's a start.
"You know why."
"Look, what Billy did wasn't my fault --"
"Of course it is. If you hadn't been there in the first place he wouldn't've showed up."
"Hey, I didn't even tell him I was going to that stupid party. He was there anyway. If you hadn't come over and butted into our argument, maybe you wouldn't have that split lip."
"My parties aren't stupid."
"Is that seriously all you took from that?"
"No..." He paused. After hearing your side of the story, he was beginning to feel like a fool. "What were you guys even arguing about?"
You sighed. "Billy and I had plans to go to this drive in movie theatre. I don't think he wanted to watch a movie though, I think he was just hoping to get lucky." The two of you had stopped walking. Steve looked at you intently, encouraging you to carry on. You shifted on your feet. "If I'm being completely honest I didn't really want to go, but then Carol asked me to go to your party and I took it as an excuse not to go with Billy. I knew he would be angry if I cancelled our plans last minute, so I told him I was sick. Biggest fucking mistake of my life."
"So you went to the party and Billy caught you out in your lie."
"Yeah. Turns out one of his friends had asked him to go but he'd declined 'cause we were going on a date. He accepted the offer once I'd cancelled our plans."
Steve started walking again. You followed next to him this time. "I know Billy is a bit of a shitbag, but why didn't you want to go on your date? I mean, it seemed like a good time."
There was no such thing as a 'good time' with Billy. He had his moments, sure, but he was as cranky as a wet hen. Time with him was like trying to swim with rocks on your back. He sucked all the fun out of everything until you started drowning. You didn't tell Steve that though.
"I just wasn't in the mood to be around him, is all." You brushed him off. "But he's bringing it up all the time, and were arguing all of the time. Even in school."
"Is that why you're here today?"
His question made you pause. He stopped a couple of steps ahead of you and turned around when he saw you weren't next to him anymore. You played it off like you were itching your leg and jogged up to him. The two of you made it to the teacher's lounge.
The first thing you noticed was that it was very brown. The floor and ceiling had the same white speckled tile that ran throughout the entire school, but everything else was just ... brown. Brown wallpaper, brown leather sofas, brown table, brown countertop. Even the fridge was brown. The vending machine was in the far corner.
"Why are you here?" You asked Steve, hoping he hadn't realised that you hadn't answered his question.
"Me? I'm here because my father and my coach don't want me to blow my ride." He started feeding the change into the machine. "They think my intensity's for shit. You see, I have a different set of standards. I get treated different because Coach thinks I'm a star. So does my old man. But you know what? I don't care. I'm not a star because I want to be a star, I'm a star because I got good legs and reflexes. I'm like a racehorse. That's about how involved I am in what's happening to me."
You nodded, but you had a suspicion that that wasn't the whole truth. "Yeah, so why are you really here?"
Steve was annoyed that he hadn't managed to persuade you. "Forget it."
You studied the set of lockers on the other side of the room. You walked over to them out of curiosity, trying your luck with one of the doors. To your surprise it opened.
Steve caught you out of the corner of his eye. "You really shouldn't be doing that."
Inside lay a set of keys attached to a green Hawkins High lanyard, a pack of cigarettes, a 'thank you teacher' mug, and a Prince's Purple Rain album on vinyl. Steve came up behind you, looking inside and letting the soda cans thunk loudly at the bottom of the vending machine.
"This is a teacher's stuff?" He asked surprised.
"Yeah. Does this mean that they're actually human?" You laughed together for the first time.
Daringly, you pocketed the pack of cigarettes in your cardigan pocket and took the record.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, put them back."
"C'mon Steve, when are you ever going into the teacher's lounge again? Besides, it'll give us something to do while were stuck in that god damned library."
You shut the locker door and brushed past him. You gathered up the soda cans, giving Steve his share to carry and made your way back to the library.
"It was pretty strange looking at teacher's personal shit, huh?" You said, examining the purple record sleeve.
Steve shrugged, he'd seen stranger things. "I went over to Coach's house for dinner once during the summer. It was really weird to see how he lives."
He paused, anticipating a question, but you just looked at him to carry on.
"His wife was fat. And one of his kids was in a wheelchair. It was kinda sad. He was a nice kid."
"If he invites you over to his house, why does he shit on you?"
"He and my old man are working to get me a scholarship. It's not an economic issue. Scholarships make the newspaper. They think I have a shot at a full ride. They think I deserve a Big Ten school."
You simply nodded and walked through the library doors. The others were gathered in the corner by the comfy chairs. Eddie was holding a book opened to a page displaying a man with elephantitus to the nuts like he was reading children a bedtime story.
"How do you suppose he rides a bike?"
The clattering of soda cans on the table drew their attention away. They all walked over to grab a can. Before the others could take one, Eddie reached out and shook one furiously.
You look at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. "That's going to spray all over you."
"Not necessarily."
He put the drink back with the others and moved the cans around so than no one would know which was was shook up.
"You're such a dingus." Robin bravely took a can first.
Everyone else followed before taking their seats and pulling out their lunches. You simply took out an apple, loosing your appetite after seeing a man with elephantitus to the nuts. You noticed Eddie didn't have any lunch as he surveyed everyone else's.
"Where's your lunch?"
"You're wearing it." He winked.
You curled your lip in disgust, but felt about as red as your apple.
"You're nauseating." Nancy complained, opening her lunch.
"Look who's talking. You don't care what you put in your mouth." He eyed Nancy's lunch like she had just shown him a plate full of snails. "What is that?"
"Sushi."
"Sushi?"
"Rice, raw fish, and seaweed."
"You wont accept a guys tongue in your mouth, but you'll eat that?"
She scoffed impatiently. "Can I eat?"
"I don't know, give it a try."
The room went silent as everybody watched Steve pull out his lunch from a large brown grocery bag; three sandwiches, a family-sized bag of chips, an apple, a banana, a bag of cookies and a carton of milk.
"Are you really going to eat all that?" Robin asked in shock.
"No, I'm only going to eat half."
"What are you going to do with the other half?"
"Shoving it up Eddie's ass."
How charming. He reached for his can and everybody shrunk away, thinking it might explode. He cracked the tab.
Nothing happened.
Robin took out a sandwich covered in saran wrap. She unwrapped it and pulled the bread apart, starting to work on it like a mad scientist. She tossed the meat away, blindly whipping it to the side. It slapped on the wall and stuck there. She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a bag of chocolate M&M's. She tore the bag open and dumped all of it on the buttered bread. Out of her coat pocket she pulled out a little baggie filled with Captain crunch cereal and sprinkled it over the M&M's. She closed the mess of a sandwich and took a huge bite. She noticed that everyone was watching her.
"You are bizarre." Eddie thought Steve's lunch was bad.
She reached for her Pepsi to wash it all down. She put it to her mouth and popped it. The soda sprayed cleanly into her mouth.
After the fizz was gone, she smirked at Eddie. "Nice try, dingus."
"What do you have?" He turned to you, watching take a bite into your apple.
You handed your bag over to him, rather than speaking with a full mouth. He started pulling things out. He pulled out a sandwich, a thermos of soup, which he opened and give a big whiff, and a bottle of water.
"Well Sweetheart, this is a very nutritious lunch. All the food groups are represented. Did your mom marry Mr. Rodgers?"
Eddie stood so he was front and centre of the room, all eyes on him.
"This is my impression of life at our darling Sweetheart's house." He gestured to you and your face flushed.
"Hello, dear. I'm home from the coalmine." Eddie impersonated your father.
Eddie quickly played your mother. "Oh, hello, sweetie pie. Dinner's almost ready. I'm serving stuffing instead of potatoes."
"My favourite!"
His voice turned high and shrill, playing you. "Hi, Dad! Yippee, you're home! I danced in a skimpy skirt in front of hundreds of people today. I went to church and I wrote Grandma a letter. Now can I have a pen pal?"
"Dear, isn't our daughter swell?"
Quiet and motherly. "Yes Dear, isn't life swell?"
Eddie mimed your mother kissing your father, then father kissing mother, and then your father punching your mother in the face. Suddenly it was not so funny anymore.
Your eyes were wet. You hated how much that hurt. It wasn't his words that hurt you, it was how much you wished it were true.
You bravely stood up. "No, it's more like --"
"Dad? Is it okay if I shoot heroin?"
You lowered your voice, playing your father. You held an imaginary newspaper in your hands, not taking your eyes off it and pretending that you weren't paying attention. "If it'll make you happy, pumpkin."
You extended your fingers and blew on them, doing your mother and her fresh nail polish. "What are you talking about, Frank?! How's she going to wear her Sunday dress with holes in her arms? We are going to church aren't we?
"It's okay. Never mind. I won't be a junkie." You said sadly.
"Now, just wait a minute. If you want to be a junkie--"
"I'm not going to be the only woman at the congregation with a junkie daughter. Now what about church?" Your mother said.
"Go by yourself!" Said your father.
"With pleasure! I'm taking Y/N."
"Over my dead body!"
"I love her more than you do!"
"Go to hell!"
Everyone looks at you with a hint of sympathy. Even Eddie.
"Do you wish they'd get a divorce?" He asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'd have to live with one or the other. And I don't know which one is worse." You laughed, but there was no humour behind it.
"Whose next?" Eddie ask, like he didn't already know he was going to single out Steve. Eddie pointed at him. "You're next."
"Yeah, no thanks."
"You an orphan?"
"I don't need to dump on my parents. Especially when they're not here to defend themselves." Eddie gave him a look like he was being chicken.
"What about your family?" Steve asked Eddie. He wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine.
"Mine? Real simple, pal."
He climbed onto the table, really setting the stage and getting himself into character. His eyelids lowered and his body moved clumsily, like he was drunk. "Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn freeloading, son of a bitch, big mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk!"
He stands up straight, crossing his arms and raising the pitch of his voice. "You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful." His mother said.
"Shut up bitch!" He smacked the air, hitting his invisible mother. He yelled it so loud you were worried Higgins was about to storm through the door.
As his father, he threw a punch. Eddie dramatically dropped from the table and fell to the ground. He stood up, brushed himself off and took a bow. The show was over.
"Then they make me work to pay off the dentist for the teeth he busts."
"Is that for real?" Nancy looks like she's going to start crying for him.
"You wanna come over some time?"
She didn't want to believe that something like that could happen to anyone. Even someone as vexing as Eddie. Nancy decided then to never complain about her parents again.
"That's part of your image. I don't believe a word." Steve brushed him off. His re-enactment hadn't moved him at all.
You wondered if he was right. You had been so truthful about yours, you would feel ashamed if he had lied about his.
Eddie actually looked hurt. "You don't believe it, huh?"
He whipped off his red shirt and pulled up the sleeve of his black t-shirt. He shoved his arm in Steve's face, displaying a grotesque purple scar. Steve recoiled away from it, but Eddie forced him to look at it. You subtly tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan. You could feel the bruises of Billy's fingers purpling on your wrist.
"You believe that? It's about the size of a cigar." Eddie spoke through gritted teeth. "That's what you get in my house when you spill paint in the garage."
Eddie was breathless with anger. His muscles were tensed up so tightly he thought he was going to give himself a full-body cramp. He needed something to calm himself down. Luckily, he knew just the thing.
~~~~~
<<<Previous // Next>>>
~~~~~
Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn @peaches-roses-sins @lodeddiperrodrick @catherinnn @lilocapoca @minniedreamers @melaninjhs
#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson smut#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson series#mini series#cheerleader!reader#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#stranger things#steve harrington#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#the breakfast club#the breakfast club mini series#the breakfast club fanfic#stranger things x the breakfast club#enemies to lovers
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6 for the ask meme 😎
6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!
oh? is it time? is it time to drop the OCBFEU primer??
in short: yes, last year my friends came up with a whole "what if we invented a boyfriend for jason" "what if we also invented a boyfriend for dick in the same continuity" batfam AU with two (and a half) significant OCs. we write little informal fics for each other about them and my incredibly talented friends draw them and we also have an extended fantasy AU of the boyfriend AU that could fill about three TV seasons of plot so far. i love them. they are constantly rotating in the back of my mind; it's a fun time.
months ago we compiled a document with bios and a rough OC bf timeline (with bonus timkon) and: here it is! (content warning for a (past) emotionally manipulative relationship. also some brief underage drinking.)
Batfamily OCBFEU (OC Boyfriend Extended Universe)
Santi
jason’s OC boyfriend; ship name sanjay
[original santi post] [mammutblog’s santi art tag] [90kon’s santi art tag]
santi, short for santiago
5’7”; has to go up on his tiptoes to kiss jason
line cook by day, taking classes toward his teaching certification by night, also volunteers at an after-school literacy program in park row
gothamite through & through—grew up a few blocks over from jason, though their paths never crossed. has two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother, but is mostly estranged from them after their dad died. money was incredibly tight after that and santi still took odd jobs—including some for the falcones—to help his sister finish med school.
an old soul like jason, aka he’ll use his same phone til it’s a brick and does not understand tiktok despite kids at the program explaining it to him over and over
there’s probably a mildly popular tiktok series one of the kids has of them asking santi questions while santi is in the middle of something at the program, because everyone loves santi and he gives funny answers when he’s distracted
santi does not become a vigilante—he has enough on his plate, he’s (almost) a teacher—but he’s certainly not without his own set of skills. also he talks a very good game and can usually get by without having to physically fight (see: confrontation with nick in the below timeline)
Blue
dick’s OC boyfriend; ship name bluebird
[original blue post] [other original blue post]
ex-talon from an alternate reality
6’5” 😳
in his original universe blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon (in this version talons have boosted strength/healing, and were conditioned/brainwashed into carrying out the court of owls’ assassinations. also golden eyes) and doesn’t remember his name anymore. once he tumbled into this universe after an assignment gone wrong, he was free of the court’s orders and re-education for the first time and started slowly unraveling their mental conditioning
he rarely speaks, and takes a while to consider his words when he does. when he texts it’s mostly emojis because he prefers them
when left to his own devices he’s very gentle and likes to bake
he had short/shaved hair as a talon. once he’s in this world he starts growing it out and prefers it long
he eventually makes an excellent crime-fighting partner for dick; he knows and understands dick’s skills enough to trust him to take care of himself, so they work very well together. that said, if you really hurt nightwing you will be reminded very quickly that blue spent most of his life as a nearly unbeatable assassin.
he eventually takes up the superhero name flamebird to go with nightwing
Nick
tim’s OC ex-boyfriend; no ship name we hate nick
nick is a GU college freshman (18 at the time) tim meets playing tennis at the local rec center while tim is avoiding the manor in the early red hood reconciliation days
at first nick definitely plays into the fact that tim desperately craves attention at this point in his life. nick is at turns overwhelmingly nice and startlingly cold, and more and more often “playfully” mocks tim, dismisses his thoughts because he’s “young” (16 at the time), etc. nick is, essentially, a jerk who, despite—or perhaps due to—being a teenager himself, does everything he can to feel superior to tim.
nick also drags tim along to parties/hangouts with his college friends so he can show off that he’s dating tim drake-wayne. other than late-night parties with his friends, though, he insists on keeping their relationship a secret.
none of the bats know about this as it’s happening; tim eventually breaks it off and pretends it never happened.
rough OCBFEU timeline
jason and santi meet while jason is still sort of on the outs with the family but not in Revenge Mode anymore. first jason meets santi as red hood, and later realizes his main apartment/civilian ID lives in the same building as santi when they run into each other in the elevator.
sanjay identity shenanigans ensue! santi is very taken with red hood. santi thinks his upstairs neighbor “uhh, call me jay” is an inconsiderate dickhead for seemingly working out/moving furniture around at 3am sometimes. seriously, how many muscles does someone need. that’s ridiculous. santi also thinks jay has a very nice smile but that’s irrelevant.
meanwhile tim meets nick at rec center and they date for a few months. it’s not a great time for tim and he eventually breaks it off.
santi starts seeing red hood more because red hood will just. appear and shadow santi when he’s walking home from work late, and helps santi out of a tight spot with some of falcone’s men at one point (we learn santi used to work for falcone a few years ago; he needed the money to put his older sister through med school. santi’s not involved with the mob anymore but the past dogs his heels sometimes). santi and red hood start hooking up, though hood still won’t show his face.
santi volunteers at an after-school literacy program (while taking night classes working toward a teaching certification). one day santi’s neighbor jay shows up to the bake sale fundraising for the after-school program, and they have a cute interaction until there’s a surprise rogue attack and the school goes on lockdown. jay disappears; red hood shows up minutes later, helping santi secure the kids before going after the rogue. red hood gets hurt and in the aftermath santi, patching him up, pieces together that red hood is his neighbor jay.
shortly after this santi gets kidnapped in public along with a random teenager (tim drake) who happened to intervene and get himself kidnapped too. the kidnappers saw santi and hood together after the rogue attack, so they’re trying to get information on hood out of santi. tim runs interference as best he can and takes a few hits as a distraction, and soon enough red hood shows up to dispatch the kidnappers. in the aftermath red hood is cold and snappish to tim (jason thinks tim was stalking santi) (to be fair, tim was) and this leads to santi learning a bit more about jason’s family. this also leads to jason breaking up with santi because it’s too dangerous (for santi) to associate with him.
santi does not agree with this decision, and there’s a lot of pining and angsting until they get their shit together over the course of another few months. coincidentally jason is reconciling with his family in the meanwhile and getting his feet under him emotionally.
once they’re together jason and santi are like. incredibly domestic. totally in rhythm with each other. somehow jason now has the healthiest most settled relationship of any bat.
meanwhile in blüdhaven, blue pops in from an alternate reality where the court of owls rules gotham. blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon; when he’s thrown into this universe, he’s free from the owls’ control for the first time. it’s a rough landing—he ends up being fished out of a dumpster by dick and even though blue runs away, he imprints hard on one dick grayson.
Tim (18 now) realizes his longtime crush on kon might be reciprocated; cue panicking.
tim lies his way into a gay club to Research (because nick always kind of mocked tim for not having dated any guys before him; tim thinks he will have one shot to not disappoint kon so he has to figure shit out). gets drunk, starts making out with someone who is not uhh handling him gently. gets spotted by jason and santi, who are there on what was supposed to be a fun date, and they intervene. at first jason is annoyed, thinking tim’s following him again, and then realizes something is Wrong. he and santi dispatch the asshole other guy, and they bring drunk tim back to crash on jason’s couch.
the next morning tim is hungover at jason’s and mortified. santi makes him sit and eat breakfast and tim is like i’m sorry, i wasn’t even following you guys this time, i swear. which leads to tim haltingly explaining the nick thing. santi and jason (who is lurking in the kitchen listening to this convo) don’t know who this ex guy is yet but they’re gonna kill him ❤️
tim’s net gain for this ill-fated excursion: one (1) splitting headache and one (1) new older brother unit.
meanwhile back in blüdhaven blue is slowly un-conditioning himself, keeping to the shadows, and leaving little gifts on dick’s windowsill. the gifts are like, keychains, a lost earring, a random postcard. all tend to be blue or have blue in them, so dick starts nicknaming this mysterious gift-giver blue.
during patrol a week later jason finds tim on a rooftop and has an awkward but earnest talk with tim about uhh. consent and healthy relationships and stuff okay yeah we’re never talking about this again but also if you ever need anything. call me right away or i’ll kill you. okay good talk.
blue gets invited inside dick’s apartment for the first time. god bless bluebird they’re in their own little world over here.
tim and kon kiss 😳
an anonymous, “scandalous” tabloid story from someone claiming to have dated tim drake-wayne drops. resulting fallout, salacious rumors abound about tim + the waynes, etc. also, obviously, bruce and the family find out about nick. jason and santi figure out who nick is and separately visit him to put the fear of god in him.
nick: what the fuck, are you with the guy from earlier? i got the message! tell that guy i’m moving to star city this fucking weekend!
red hood: what guy
nick: you know the, the guy with the earring and the tattoo and he said if i didn’t lose tim’s number and leave town i’d have an accident
red hood: huh. no, not related. so you never made a deal with me. bummer for you, i still get to break one of your arms.
(jason obviously realizes the other guy was santi so he goes home and climbs into bed where santi’s awake reading and he’s like “productive night?” and jason’s like “mmhm, and i heard you had a productive day” and santi shrugs and then jason kisses the hell out of him)
over in blüdhaven blue witnesses dick get really upset over something (this article) for the first time. dick says “i’m going to be away for a few days but you can stay here while i’m gone, okay?” (when dick returns blue isn’t there but dick’s apartment has been deep-cleaned) (this leads to dick insisting blue stay there more and more until they accidentally end up as roommates)
batfamily deals with the nick aftermath and much-needed convos are had with tim. this also brings santi more into the family fold because everyone approves of him essentially making nick shit his pants.
bruce, up to this point, has been kind of wary of santi solely because santi is NOT immediately impressed with bruce. santi sees bruce as being on thin ice until he gets proof that bruce is in fact doing his best as a parent and then they have a slightly more chill dynamic.
meanwhile in gotham, mid family crisis, dick is having his own crisis/rooftop breakdown with tim and jason about having feelings for blue and going through his gay awakening at the ripe age of 20something and jason is very upset that he has somehow become the to-go gay relationship advice sibling.
because yeah, between dick and jason, JASON’s relationship is the more normal/aspirational one for tim looking for like queer mentors. bluebird is great and perfect for them obviously but they are not a blueprint for anyone else.
dick: [sitting on blue’s shoulder after describing how blue wooed him with random tchotchkes on his windowsill and then moved into a corner of his living room for a month and—] anyway do as i say not as i do
dick literally let a secret organization-trained slightly undead assassin into his house for fun bc he got like a few cool rocks as a gift
if tim asked dick for advice dick would be like “oh shit you like-like him? i just thought you were really touchy friends”
no one should ask bruce for advice, ever
so here jason is, somehow the most stable gay of the family
by the time damian appears with his first crush jason is like [sighs] [gets out the powerpoint]
timkon officially get together!
aaaand then months later dick shows up to family dinner with a giant ex-talon in tow like “heyyyyy guys, so guess what—”
there are also plenty of fun post-timeline adventures like “blue and santi get kidnapped together to target nightwing and red hood; kidnappers regret this almost immediately” and “tim takes blue on restaurant adventures because blue really likes fancy food; one day they run into nick who says something nasty about tim and blue breaks nick’s wrist (tim’s net gain: another older brother unit)” and “santi is frantically trying to catch the bus one night and steps on one of poison ivy’s vines—whoops, it’s sex pollen; santi gets introduced to PAID forms” or, alternately, “jason gets hit with the poison ivy special and that’s how santi finds out he’s on jason’s PAID form” and “bruce and blue surprisingly get along very well and trade sparring tips (meanwhile, bruce is trying so hard to get santi to tolerate him and it’s slow going)” and also “dick realizes everyone else in the world knew he and blue were dating and in love six months before he did.”
extra content:
santi, blue, and kon end up in a robin bf support group gc. one day kon gets added to a group chat that’s just like [(372)846-XXXX and (124)234-XXXX has added you to a group chat] and nothing happens there for like 2 hours he’s just like
kon: ?
kon: hello?
kon: is this spam? is there such a thing as spam gcs?
kon: am i getting blackmailed
kon: how did you get this number??
(blue added kon while santi is in school)
the gc also ends up nonstop unintentional comedy due to their communication styles. kon’s gen z (👍 = declaration of war) and santi is technologically elder millennial/boomer (thought 🙂 was a normal smiley until corrected)—but blue is none of the above. blue knows the nuances of every emoji but has no social rules for using them. he’s an emoji artist. he is unbound.
from @90kon, in a version of the timeline where santi hasn’t seen jason’s face/doesn’t know his name before their sort-of breakup:
after their not-yet-together-break-up they should have an argument. like santi confronts jason about him saying he doesn’t want this thing between them to go on but wont give santi an honest answer but also keeps lurking and santi cant move on like that. bc either he’s done with him or he’s not. and umm yeah jason is not rly saying much but eventually santi is like alright. just tell me this: do you want this or not? forget about everything else…do you want me? and santi barely has time to finish his question before jason says yes. in a tight voice. i want you so much it scares the shit out of me. and ummm well eventually santi is like look. you can have me. but i have conditions.
and he’s like. whatever idk uhh don’t lurk out my window unless you’re gonna come in. dont investigate me; if you want to know something, just ask. at the end he should say "and i need a name. it doesn't have to be your full name or anything, but i need to call you something other than red." and jason is quiet for so long santi sighs and is like. "yeah i didn’t actually think that one was gonna fly. whatever, forget i said--" and jason says "jay." like it just slips out of him. and santi stills, looks at him, and from the way jason said it he somehow knows it's real. it could be short for any number of names but it's real. so he repeats it. "jay."
family game night from @mammutblog:
collected OCBFEU tag
[OC boyfriends created in a lab by @90kon, @mammutblog, @cairoscene, @vinelark, @feyburner, @bluecrystalrainingdaggers!]
#OCBFEU#is there any purer form of fandom than making up a guy and letting your friends give him trauma#and romance#anyway yeah. the OCs.#my fic#asks#batfam#as soon as i saw your ask i was like !! the primer!!#jason todd#dick grayson#tim drake
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Day 25: Secret Santa
Hi hi! This one, again, would have made... so much more sense... had I published on Dec 25th 😂
Ship: Hangster (I'm in such a Hangster mood rn please disregard)
The original prompt:
-
Maverick finished cutting and folding paper then tossed them into his helmet, opening the airstream door and calling out to the Daggers who were floating around the hangar. Hangman, Bob, Payback and Rooster were lying on Maverick’s couches in front of his TV, squabbling about a football game. Phoenix and Coyote were playing table tennis and Fanboy was on a running commentary, earning an eyeroll from the other two. Rooster glanced up from where he was sitting on the floor between Bob’s legs, an eyebrow raised.
“What’s up, Mav?”
“Come grab a piece of paper each; the name you draw is who you’re buying for this year’s Secret Santa.”
“Hangman if I draw your name know you’re not getting anything,” Phoenix said as she climbed over the back of the couch between Bob and Payback, the first one to grab a name from the hat... helmet.
“Please tell me that’s not the one you’re using at the moment,” Rooster complained to Maverick as he reached up to grab one himself.
“Okay, I won’t tell you that.”
“Phoenix if I get you, I’m getting you tickets to the next Longhorns game,” Hangman said as he accidentally tripped over Rooster who was back on the floor after grabbing his paper.
“Getting yourself tickets to the next Longhorns game,” Bob muttered. Hangman smirked.
“Why not, right?”
“Just when I thought you’d changed, Bagman,” Phoenix sighed as she flopped into a spot on the couch. Once everyone had their piece of paper Maverick shooed them off to go back to causing chaos in the rest of the hangar. With everyone else distracted, Rooster opened his paper for a second time and winced. He stood, touching Maverick’s arm in passing.
“Hey, I forgot; I have PT first thing tomorrow morning. I’m gonna head back now and get some sleep beforehand. It’s been great out here this week, thanks Mav.”
Maverick regarded him for a moment, then smiled at him.
“Back still giving you trouble?”
“It never got better after I ejected, but PT helps.”
“That’s good, kid. Keep up with it. Let me know when you get home, yeah?”
“Gotcha.”
Maverick gave him a quick hug and Rooster went over to the rest of the Daggers to let them know he was heading out, earning a groan from Phoenix and a look from Hangman. If anyone could tell he was bullshitting, it was probably those two.
“You good, man?” Coyote asked. He was also so very perceptive when it came to bullshit.
“Fine, it’s just- y’know, I don’t really want to miss PT if it’s the only thing that helps my back, especially because I can’t do my usual gym routine at the moment.”
“Ah, gotcha. Okay man, we’ll probably see you later, we’re all thinking of going out for dinner sometime next week if you’re down?”
“Only if you’re paying, Javy,” Rooster grinned. The two bumped shoulders in good jest then Phoenix gave him a hug.
“Call me if you want to talk about it,” she said subtly as she pulled away.
“Thanks, Tash.”
With that he waved goodbye to the others and got into the Bronco, starting the engine and letting it warm up whilst he connected his phone to the new Bluetooth system he’d managed to connect about a month ago. He took a deep breath, glancing toward the others who were still having fun in the hangar and wondered if they’d figured out what was going on.
-
“That was weird, right?”
Phoenix hummed when Hangman appeared at her side, lining up her next shot on the pool table.
“You and I both know he freezes like that for no reason sometimes. He’d say something if it was serious-“
“-Trace.”
Hangman sent her a look and Phoenix cleared her throat.
“You’re right, that’s wishful thinking. We both know he doesn’t have PT for another week so what made him run for the hills?”
“The threat of commitment?” Hangman suggested, earning a pool cue to the gut. She continued to be a good shot, apparently. The pair glanced up when the airstream door opened and Maverick quietly slipped inside. They exchanged a look, and Phoenix reached for her phone.
“I don’t think they had a fight, we would’ve heard it, but I’m just gonna make sure he’s okay,” she muttered as she typed out a text. Hangman hummed.
“I’ll go see if I can get it out of Mav. He doesn’t go quiet unless it’s to do with a Bradshaw.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Phoenix pleaded. She went back to her pool game and Hangman approached Coyote and Bob.
“Hey, did either of you see when Mav’s mood changed?”
“As far as I’m aware it didn’t-“
“-when we all checked who we had for Secret Santa.”
Coyote was quick to dismiss it but Bob’s wallflower personality had the gossip Hangman needed. He was quick to ruffle Bob’s perfectly styled hair, glancing over his shoulder.
“Hey Phoenix, I got it!”
-
Phoenix: did you fight with Mav? (sent: 1:32pm)
Rooster: no? (sent: 6:30pm)
Rooster: what would make you think that? (sent: 6:31pm)
Phoenix: you pretty much ran out of the hangar and you’re not a runner anymore (sent: 6:32pm)
Rooster: look (sent: 6:35pm)
Rooster: it’s nothing (sent: 6:35pm)
Phoenix: you drove the 4 hours back to San Diego for no reason (sent: 6:40pm)
Rooster: do we really have to do this? I have PT (sent: 6:45pm)
Phoenix: bullshit (sent: 6:46pm)
Phoenix: if it’s not a big deal you would have already dealt with it (sent: 6:47pm)
Rooster: seriously Tash it’s nothing (sent: 6:48pm)
Phoenix: fine (sent: 7pm)
Phoenix: but I’m here if you want to get it off your chest (sent: 7:01pm)
Rooster: I know (sent: 7:02pm)
Rooster: but thanks (sent: 7:03pm)
Phoenix: I got your back (sent: 7:04pm)
-
Hangman had let Maverick go for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, but after dinner and a couple beers he sidled over and flopped onto the couch beside him.
“So; you and Roos have a fight?”
“No...?”
“Just checkin’, he left like his tail was on fire.”
“He’s your boyfriend isn’t he?” Maverick replied, an eyebrow raised. Hangman cleared his throat.
“Don’t change the subject, sir. Something changed when we did the Secret Santa draw; is everything okay?”
“You don’t give up, do you?” Maverick sighed, “but fine, as long as you don’t tell him.”
He reached into his pocket, offering the piece of paper he’d drawn last. Hangman opened it and whistled.
“You got something in mind?”
“Maybe. It’s... I dunno, it’s probably stupid, but-“
“-it won’t be stupid, and you’re not gonna piss him off. He’s come a long way since the Dagger mission, Mav, don’t worry about that.”
Maverick hummed, but his gaze remained on his lap. Hangman gently bumped his shoulder.
“If it helps, I’ll go and check on him tomorrow. I was thinking of heading back anyway, leave isn’t super long this time and I have to do a couple things before they torture me on base.”
That earned a chuckle and Hangman took it as a win.
-
Rooster wasn’t entirely surprised to find Hangman in his kitchen when he came back from his morning run, making what looked like coffee and breakfast. They shared a gentle kiss against the counter, Hangman offering the cup of liquid gold he was drinking to his partner.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” He started. Rooster shook his head.
“I need a shower first.”
Hangman frowned but he slowly nodded.
“Okay; go shower and then we’re going to talk. No slipping out a window, yeah? We’re too old for that shit.”
Rooster snorted, pressing a kiss to his lips before heading upstairs. Hangman sighed.
Hangman: he’s being cagey (sent: 8:45am)
Phoenix: duh (sent: 8:46am)
When Rooster returned, freshly showered and ready for the day, he took the plate offered and the couple went to the dining table. Whilst they ate they made light conversation, planning out what they wanted to do over the next couple of days other than a date night and making out on Rooster’s couch. Their plates quickly became empty and Hangman took Rooster by the hand.
“Babe,” he started softly, “tell me what’s going on in your head.”
Despite popular belief, Hangman wasn’t a pet names guy, he leaned more toward nicknames and variations of callsigns; the way he said babe told Rooster he was serious. Rooster’s gaze fell to the dining table, spotting various stains on the tabletop.
“It’s dumb,” he muttered. Hangman squeezed his hand.
“Probably, but I want to hear it anyway.”
“I got Mav for the Secret Santa. I knew there was a chance, I just didn’t think it would happen. There’s six other names I could have drawn, y’know?”
“That makes sense. You worried about it not being good enough for him?”
“It’s our first Christmas after coming back together; I think I broke his heart last year when I told him you and me were going to Australia for Christmas so I wouldn’t be around. I just want it to mean something.”
Hangman’s brows furrowed.
“I didn’t know he’d offered to have you last Christmas, but it makes sense now. You were unhinged in Australia, honey.”
Rooster snorted. When Hangman stood to approach him he instinctively opened his arms to let him into his space.
“Look, there’s a couple things you need to remember; one, I love you. Two, Mav adores you. Three, you could give him a plain white mug and he’d still treasure it because it came from you, B. He doesn’t care about what he gets, just that you’re there.”
Rooster hummed.
“You know this is why I keep you around, right?”
“Oh; so it’s not the great sex?”
“That too.”
-
Christmas Day rolled around and the Daggers plus Penny and Amelia gathered at the hangar, sharing a meal and playing football on the tarmac. Amelia had quickly integrated herself into the group of adults around her; as much as Penny was a great mom Amelia found that she also liked talking to Phoenix, a great role model for younger girls like her. Penny and Maverick sat back to watch them hand in hand, exchanging a fond look when Bob tackled Payback and everyone cheered for him.
“He’s come a long way,” Penny said. Maverick hummed.
“It shows in the air, too. He’s always had confidence in the air but it’s only grown-“
“-oh, no, I was talking about Rooster.”
Maverick’s gaze tracked around the group, finding his godson with his boyfriend. Amelia approached them and Rooster smiled at her, leaving Hangman’s side to listen to what she had to say.
“I’d say he’s finally found peace,” Maverick agreed. Penny squeezed his hand.
“Have you?”
“Who knows.”
Amelia came running to the two adults, tugging at Maverick’s hand.
“C’mon, Rooster wants to do Secret Santa.”
“Oh, does he?” Penny teased, exchanging a look with her partner. Maverick hefted himself out of his seat.
“We better not keep him waiting. Go round up the others, Amelia.”
She took off to the others, yelling for them. Penny bumped Maverick’s shoulder.
“Do you want to tell me why you’ve been so cagey lately?”
“Me? Cagey? Just trying not to get myself sent to another foreign country, Penny,” he replied. She gave him the look, the same one he’d just seen Hangman give Rooster, and winced.
“I got Rooster for Secret Santa and I’m a little worried about what I got him.”
“You’re worried he’s going to throw another temper tantrum? I really don’t think he’s got it in him anymore, honey.”
“I know... I think. I don’t want to risk it.”
“Okay, well, Hangman’s here, Phoenix is here, I’m here. We’re not going to let him ruin Christmas if that what he feels he needs to do.”
Penny squeezed his hand and they went to join the others who had gathered around the Christmas tree toward the back of the hangar.
-
“Phoenix.”
“Thanks, Amelia.”
Phoenix took the wrapped present from the younger girl, watching her hand the rest of them around. Rooster’s came as a wrapped large box, whilst Maverick’s was flatter but more rectangular. The others tore into theirs but it took a minute for Rooster and Maverick to pull off the paper. Rooster was the first to pop open his box and he immediately tossed the box on to Hangman’s lap to give Maverick a hug.
“I didn’t know you kept it,” he muttered. Maverick breathed a sigh.
“I found it last week, thought you might want it back.”
“What is it?” Phoenix asked Hangman, who reached into the box and produced a tiny airplane toy. When Rooster returned to his side he took the toy back, keeping it close to him. Hangman frowned but chose not to question it at that moment, instead flipping open the envelope he’d been handed.
“Oh, would you look at that! Longhorns tickets. I wonder who did that?” He said in a way that told everyone exactly what had happened.
“How the fuck did you draw yourself?” Bob groaned at the same time the others laughed. Hangman smirked.
“I’m just that good, Baby on board. I’m so good, in fact, that Rooster-“
“-open yours, Mav, before I have to cover Amelia’s ears,” Phoenix pleaded. Maverick gently opened the box and his eyes softened.
“All these years I thought I’d lost it. Where did you find it?”
At first the team assumed he was talking to Penny, but Rooster was the one to speak up.
“A couple weeks ago, I was cleaning out the Bronco and I found it wedged in a really weird spot. Never noticed it before, thought you might want it back.
“Guys, being mysterious is fun when you’re not pushing sixty,” Amelia groaned. Penny gently swatted her arm whilst the others laughed. Maverick rolled his eyes, holding up what looked like a keyring that had seen better days.
“I bought this when Bradley was born. I don’t believe in luck but this thing went everywhere with me and it kept me safe. The one time I didn’t have it, well... we lost Goose that day and I searched for it every day after. I had no idea it was in that damn truck of his.”
The others went quiet, Hangman reaching subtly for Rooster’s hand between them. Finally, Rooster cleared his throat.
“You never told me that.”
“I know, kid.”
“Is that Tasmania?” Phoenix blurted, standing from her seat and gesturing vaguely toward the desert outside the hangar doors.
“What does that even- oh. Yeah, goddamn, that looks like it! C’mon guys.”
Hangman followed along, gesturing with a (not) subtle head tilt toward the hangar doors. Everyone but Maverick and Rooster made a swift exit, giving them a moment to themselves.
“I’m really glad you could be here this year, Bradley. I’m not upset about Australia, you do know that right?”
“It’s good to hear it,” Rooster confessed. Maverick hummed.
“Let’s start fresh in the new year, huh? Stop running and try talking?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They shared a look, then laughed.
“I can’t believe you still had it,” Rooster muttered.
“Always. Thought you might want it back, give it to your kids some day.”
-
“This is a real cockblock, Roos. I’m trying to get laid and you’re staring at that toy?”
“Shush, Jake.”
Rooster lifted the toy to the tent light, showing a crack in one of the wings. Hangman huffed, making himself comfortable against Rooster’s shoulder and sending him a look.
“Why are you so hooked on that toy?”
“My mom said it was the last thing I got from my dad. We went to see him and Mav at TOPGUN and it was only a couple days later that he...”
Rooster cleared his throat.
“You know the story.”
“Wow... what’s the crack in the wing from?”
“I cried for, like, three hours. I was playing with it in the park and some older kid took it, stepped on it, then called me a baby. I was six. It took Mav and mom about an hour to fix it, but when they went to give it back to me I was hiding under Mav’s leather jacket and sobbing. Apparently the crying stopped the second I had it back.”
Hangman laughed, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips.
“That’s adorable; I’ll be telling Phoenix that one later.”
Rooster hummed, finally tucking the toy into his backpack and using his body weight to flip them.
“Sorry, you said something about getting laid?”
“Tell me more,” Hangman grinned.
-
#G's Dec 2023 Prompts!#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw#Bradley Bradshaw#Rooster#Callsign: Rooster#Natasha Phoenix Trace#Natasha Trace#Phoenix#Callsign: Phoenix#Jake Hangman Seresin#Jake Seresin#Hangman#Callsign: Hangman#Pete Maverick Mitchell#Pete Mitchell#Maverick#Callsign: Maverick#Hangster#hurt/comfort
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part-time father
I've had a lot of time recently, so I've ended up reflecting on how I was raised and realizing that what I originally thought was a pretty unusual family arrangement is more common than I first imagined. So I wrote a narrative in two voices about it, a sort of collage of all the stories and experiences I've heard. My hope is that someone who's also experienced growing up with a mostly-absent father will read this and feel, like I now feel, that they aren't alone.
I was five when you left for the first time. Not the two-week business-trip and visiting-family kind of leaving. Not leaving for good, either. You were there one bleak morning, then waving goodbye to me through the security lines, steel-gray suitcase and backpack in hand, then gone. House empty. Peaceful.
At first, you and mother call every night. Then every week. Then almost never. The whispers become more like empty screams and I think I hear the phone ring, my mother not picking up, your voice calling for me, me not picking up. I don’t like hearing the screams. I can’t make out the words, but I know what screaming means.
We visited your Shanghai apartment that summer, and I remember the drip of chocolate-dipped ice cream cones, the fan thinly fighting the heat, the plastic covering of the bed that wasn’t my own. I dreamed that blood was pouring from every pore in my skin that night, into the fabric of a foreign-not-foreign country that I can and can’t call my home.
#####
I was seven when you made the business arrangement. Half your year here, with us, half your year there, in the country I knew in my blood but had never seen. Part-time father, my brother called it. I didn’t know what part-time meant. Or maybe he didn’t.
I draw sketches of you from faded yellow photos, to give when you return. Mother says I’m quite good. A natural-born artist.
#####
When you come back you bring a suitcase full of gifts. Snacks. I like the thin not-mint hawthorne candies and the rolls of fruit leather in little plastic packages with words I cannot read. You give me a pencil sharpener. It could sharpen a finger. I don’t know why it says “a little girl and boy” on it.
You take me to the department store, and I fidget through hours of escalator rides and check-out lines. You buy a cardboard “A” for me. For the race I am and the grades I am supposed to get — except you forget that I am in kindergarten and do not have those kinds of grades yet.
#####
When you are home, you wake me up with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, and drive me to school before returning home to work. When you’re not home, my alarm forgets to wake me up on time. I arrive at math late and groggy.
#####
While you’re gone, we find out that my passport needs renewing. You go to the consulate in Shanghai to get an affidavit notarized, except you’ve gotten my name wrong. It’s Emily, not Emma.
My mom calls for the first time in weeks, and you make a second trip. I hope you’re properly embarrassed.
#####
I learn to play the violin. You don’t like my drawings.
#####
I am in middle school and have a poster of a NASA facility on my door, torn out from a magazine issue. I line my shelves with lego helicopters and 3D prints of robots I clumsily designed. You give me pink unicorn tape and an electric trash can whose lid opens so slowly like the jaws of a steel hippo at the push of a button. I can’t figure out how to turn it off and I don’t know why you couldn’t have gotten one with a pedal.
You ask me what I want to do, and I say, “physics.” You tell me about your childhood, exaggerating your class ranking. I’ve stopped listening after the third time.
You say the haircut I gave myself is ugly and my face needs washing. You ask me when I am going to get a boyfriend. Then you ask when I’m going to get married. I think you forget I’m in middle school.
#####
I’m happy when you’re home, but I can’t pretend everything’s alright. You ask my brother how he enjoys tennis and forget that he is still recovering from a broken wrist that happened a few weeks after you left. He doesn’t say anything, but I can sense his retreat. He digs trenches and throws barbed wire around himself.
#####
In the mornings, when you’re here, you make yourself a mug of overly-sweetened coffee, until the smell permeates every scrap of wood and I think I’ll never get rid of it. I try to avoid having breakfast with you, but I’m too tired to wake up early and too tired to deal with my mother being mad at me getting up so late.
I don’t like dinner.
#####
My brother goes to college, and suddenly you’re awakened to his academic mediocrity. I guess you never realized that, with your absences, until he’s packing for a mid-level public school and you’ve become the joke of your ex-pat parties.
The pressure’s on me, the only child in the house. Mother tries to shield me, but she can’t stop the barrage. Art is a waste, computer science is the only option. I'm dropped out of the painting class I love. Now it’s not good enough to play the violin. Now I have to be the best in the state. I play until my fingers callus, then bleed, then callus again. I didn’t even know that was possible.
You tell me that I’m not going to waste my life partying and studying statistics like my brother.
#####
There’s rats in the attic and leaking pipes in the walls but you’ve never bothered to ask how we’re fixing it. The house is your hotel. You walk on carpets with muddy shoes, leave the door open until the hallways are full of dust and flies, and leave us to clean up once you’re gone.
Dinner conversations are empty. You lecture me on your successes in drugs to fight cancer but never remember the projects I’m working on. You think I should be a doctor. I know better. Look at what you did to my brother and sister.
You insist on salmon or steak every night, as if you’ve been starved in China. I grow tired of the dry flesh and lock myself in my room. I find solace in music.
#####
My brother’s pierced his ears, grown his hair long, and is taking a liking to sky-blue bomber jackets over hoodies and dyed hair. He looks different every time he comes back. I like it. You don’t. Mother blames you for it. Lack of a strong male presence and all. I think she wants a divorce.
Except I’m in the house still, and I’m too busy to waste time worrying.
#####
We meet at a summer camp. You have no idea what we’re doing. You pretend you’re proud but we know you’re not. We track vanishingly faint asteroids in the sky and realize that we are not alone. Not in the universe, not in our predicament. We’re free.
It’s a nice feeling.
#####
It seems like as soon as I'm back from summer camp we move. I slam doors in this old-new house and when my mother asks me why, all I can say is that you keep me up at night, listening to videos without headphones in your study next door, stomping around.
It’s true. It’s been true for a long time. I can’t really articulate why I hate you.
#####
When I return home and that beautiful, blessed freedom is taken away from me, I shut myself in my room and cry for a long time. I’m alone. I’m one single speck of dust dropped into the velvety black infinite.
I keep in touch with my friends from camp. They know how I’m feeling. One contacts my mother, who tries to talk to me. But she can’t stop you. I hear raised voices. You think I can’t understand Chinese, but I do. And you say “divorce” in English anyway.
#####
You don’t know that it’s college application season for me, but you act like you’ve been waiting for it your whole life. Except the only question you ask is if I’m applying to an Ivy League. And the only response I can give is yes.
You don’t know what my dream school is, and you don’t know that I got in. And I’m glad to be going a long, long ways away from home.
He tells me that his mother’s made it final. She’s keeping the house. He’s been accepted. And he, too, is glad to be going a long, long ways away from home.
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L wouldn’t have worked with Light if he had caught him.
This is from a while back, and it was a reblog from someone saying that L would’ve put Light in prison, but still let him work with him or the task force.
I want to take my opinion and expand it, since I’ve seen it is a common belief among a group of people, who shall not be named lmao.
Anyway, I am doing this also because I posted it when I had no mutuals, so yeah.
The main argument is that L likes to collect prisoners as if they were yu-gi-oh cards, and I don’t know how true that can be, because we only see two criminals who actually work for him, but let’s say he does this to some extent.
He still seems to choose people that didn’t commit extreme crimes. There is a difference between a burglar (Wendy) and con-man (Aiber) and someone who commits a genocide. I think he draws the line to people who killed others when it comes to working with them, otherwise, why would he be a detective?
The only time he uses a murderer in his favour is when makes Light kill Lind L. Tailor.
Besides, L has promised multiple time, even in Light’s presence, that he’s going to catch Kira and bring his head to the task force. He has never thought once that Kira could be on his side (obviously), so why would he want him?
Was he lying and was he always planning to get Light (after catching him) on his team? Not really.
Sorry to say this, but L has no need of Light.
He can easily solve ordinary cases that do not involve the supernatural. The Kira case was one in a million, and, after catching him and knowing more about the Death Note (true trustable information from Ryuk possibly, because he should be impartial, unlike Rem), it would be relatively easy for him to understand what’s going on, if another Kira were to return.
I do believe he stopped needing Light’s intelligence once he found out about the notebook and its power, since itself alone explained most of what Kira did.
Did he value Light’s intelligence? Yes, but that’s it. It is confirmed that L lied about being friends (which I plan to write a post about), and generally he had a negative opinion on him.
Moreover, L and Light with Kira’s conscience could never work together. Don’t tell me Light wouldn’t hold a grudge. He killed a man just because he was called evil. Being caught, sentenced, and afterwards starting to work for L would heavily hurt his ego.
If L had caught Light, he would’ve firstly made sure that Light confessed that he consciously killed people, so that if he forgot his Kira identity again, he couldn’t act as if he was possessed by an unknown power.
He then would've simply let the Japanese authorities deal with him, if Ryuk hadn't killed him already, because let me remind you, they made a deal.
I think Ryuk would've waited after Light confessed to kill him, because he would've found hilarious seeing Light realize that has no way out and could try cooperating as not to get the capital punishment (we are in Japan), by playing down his role and accusing the Shinigami of manipulating him.
I don’t believe L would've cared that much if Light got killed, because that’s what he deserves at the of the day, according to the Japanese laws, and trying to convince them to keep him alive would've only hurt his image, and they were not friends.
How many people L caught ended up on the death row? Probably a bunch and probably some of them for minor crimes than what Light did, and L didn’t save any of them, so why would he do it for Light? Because they spent a little more time together? They played tennis and deceit each other for a year? That was all done to get proof.
L wouldn’t have even gotten near Light if he hadn’t had to. If Kira hadn’t needed a face to kill people, L wouldn’t have showed himself to prove that the task force could trust him.
Also, Light killed innocent people, and L seemed pretty pissed when those 12 FBI agents and Ukita died, so are we going to pretend the world’s greatest detective is going to forgive him that easily?
Returning to Light’s intelligence/knowledge… Near and Mello do exist. Shocking, I know?
After catching him (Ryuk didn’t kill him in this timeline), why would L have wasted time and resources to teach him, a 18 year old convicted criminal, who couldn’t even fully trust, how to be a detective when he already had two promising detectives he had already chosen to be his successors, who were (Mello more than Near) eager to be L and would have done everything to be him?
You could argue that Light is smarter than both, and you would be wrong.
In HTR13, Near and Light’s knowledge stat is the same, and Near, self-aware as always, said that he couldn’t surpass L, so, draw your conclusions.
I talked in another post about my theory as to why is like that.
That’s all.
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TASKMASTER : SERIES 1 : EPISODE 3 : The Poet and The Egg
Hello all, same day, just had lunch and more choccy buttons so I'm ready to crack on with another episode. And that was a good pun from me because this episode is called The Poet and The Egg!
I can't really remember this episode at all so it'll be good to look back on it. I've got a meeting in an hour so let's get to it.
I don't understand why Greg stands up to introduce everyone, it's a bit odd.
Prize Task: Most Meaningful Item
Tim Key has brought in a piston. He explains it to say he won the Edinburgh Comedy Award and he kept this piston which was part of his show when he won it. We also get a good bit of chat here about Greg booping Romesh on the nose which continues throughout the episode as I recall.
Romesh has brought in his wedding ring. So it's high stakes! Something's telling me he's not getting that back.
Roisin has brought in a dictionary. This is the first instance of someone bringing something like this in.
Josh brings in a lovely item which is a self-published book from his father, a string of angry letters he wrote in the past. He describes it as a 'slice of life'.
Frank brings in his child's hobby horse which is very sweet. Roisin comes in last place, then Josh, Tim, Frank and Romesh. I think that's a fair assessment!
Task 1: Throw a teabag into a mug from the furthest distance. Frank already confident, saying he played cricket in this youth. He points out straight away you need wet tea bags. Roisin only brings one bag out then realises it needs to be wet. Romesh on the other hands spends a long time with dry teabags. Frank gets a box out to try and make a sort of funnel for the teabag to go into which is a great system. This leads to a great discussion about whether a box was available for Romesh or not. In another task further down the line they see a box in the background while they're showing Josh's efforts and they say 'box!' so funny.
Josh goes down a strange route of using a wheelbarrow as a mug for tea. He drinks out of it, it looks pretty disgusting!
Tim has the same idea as Frank I guess but makes it far too complicated by involving one of those things people use to throw tennis balls for dogs, and putting the teabag inside a tennis ball. I don't think it's quite in the spirit of things but it does the job.
Task 2: Oh I like this task - they have to draw a picture by walking, kind of like a human etch a sketch. The weather for everyone is nice...except Tim who is doing it in absolute horrendous torrential rain. Josh does a lovely little flower. Roisin wants to draw a sausage for Greg! But it sort of ends up looking like a golf bag.
One thing I will say is I love the music over Tim's one. He tries to draw a key but then crosses it out and ends up with sort of nothing. Tim describes it as the worst hour of his life.
Romesh does a great one of his own head which looks amazing!
Frank does a hobby horse but it doesn't look very good.
Task 3: Buy the best present for the Taskmaster, here is £20, you have 10 weeks.
This is another great moment. I mean the others aren't even worth talking about really but I'll go through them and get to Josh.
Tim - book tokens
Frank - see behind me glasses, these are quite cool actually, he puts them on and can see behind himself
Romesh has a brilliant picture made...I'll let it speak for itself! He says it's to show Greg is 'all terrain'
Josh goes next but I think it's too good to leave here so I'll skip to Roisin's and come back to Josh.
Roisin gets Greg a mouse!
Josh gets Greg a tattoo with his name on his foot! The reaction from Greg and the audience is priceless.
I don't really know why they left Roisin until last because it comes in a bit flat after this excitement but there we are. There is a fun bit though where Roisin says the mouse is called Greg and Josh quips back 'I've got a tattoo of his name!' Of course Josh had to win this one.
Task 3: Using only the items currently on this table, get this egg as high as possible. The egg must not break.
Tim says the phrase 'another day another egg' which I enjoyed. The thing about eggs is they are designed not to break on grass so that's a good call.
Romesh does a lot of titting about with the paper and measuring tape before piling it all up and putting the egg on top.
Roisin throws it up and tries to catch it but it of course goes badly wrong and falls to the floor and cracks.
Tim tries to make a sort of olympic torch out of the paper but it falls off and smashes on the floor.
Josh and Frank have a similar idea of wrapping the egg in paper and throwing it. Josh tries to cover the floor with scrunched paper to cushion the fall but it doesn't quite land in it, however it doesn't break because they are naturally robust against falling on grass.
Frank's egg comes down and nearly knocks him out! Sadly it does break :( So Josh is first and Romesh is second.
Live task: Stand up after 100 seconds. This is your typical not great live task, just waiting for 100 seconds to arrive is a bit dull. One thing I did enjoy was, after all the box chat with Romesh, Alex gives him a box while he's sitting there waiting for the 100 seconds.
Roisin goes, then Josh, then Tim and Romesh at the same time and then Frank goes. Closest to 100 seconds was Josh at 105 seconds. Well that's it then, and it's a tie break situation!
Josh and Romesh have to give Frank Skinner's age in minutes which ends up being about 30 million and something or other (numbers aren't my friend). Josh ends up being the closest to this so he wins and Romesh loses his wedding ring!
#taskmaster#taskmaster series 1#frank skinner#tim key#romesh ranganathan#roisin conaty#josh widdicombe
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WIP: Bad Girl's Volley
Can't believe I recreated a scene from Seinfeld by drawing rouge the bat playing a made-up recreational activity at the club.
Bad Girl's Volley (Working Title, let me know if you have better and more gender neutral ideas) is a game involving two pool tables lined up so the shorter parts are parallel to each other. Two people use tennis rackets to serve a basketball. if the basketball lands on the other person's table, they get a point. the Winner either has the most points by the end of the match or simply didn't get winded by a basketball to the face.
EDIT: going with the name "Chaosvolley"
Yes, I'm aware how stupid this activity is.
#digital art#wip#Rouge the bat#clubbing#cw injury implication#seinfeld#she looks really smug here#sonic the hedgehog#sth
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ooooh i got tagged by @aposemetric lets do a tag game!
rules: if you get tagged in this, answer the questions that are written and make sure to swap out one (1) question at the end of it for the next person to answer. exciting!
#1 Are you named after anyone? yes, the maternal line in my family :) if i were a boy it would've been the paternal line, but instead of including my great grandfather's name, my dad would've used "atticus" because he just loved that lawyer so much
#2 When was the last time you cried? i prefer to keep my cry count private, lest i play into my star sign (extremely cringe sentence)
#3 Do you have kids? someday....... my cousins are having kids now though so i have plenty of nieces and nephews to dote on :)
#4 Do you use sarcasm? no, i am very bad at lying even when it's funny
#5 What’s the first thing you notice about people? maybe their hair?
#6 What’s your eye color? browne....
#7 Scary movies or happy endings? i like scary movies that have happy endings.... like popcorn
#8 Any special talents? its gross but i can blow spit bubbles that actually fly and land. like you know bubble guns? i can do that with my mouth. when i was in fifth grade i read about a character doing it in a book and got so jealous that i spent like five hours just figuring out how to do it
#9 "What trait in others draws you to them?" if we can have fun conversations
#10 What are your hobbies? playing really garbage pokemon fangames, taking care of my cat, watching drag shows, anything creative if i have the energy for it
#11 Do you have any pets? why yes my perfect cat guy stan :)
#12 What sports do you play/have played? i did basketball, tennis, martial arts, and kickboxing as a kid. i tried out yoga and fencing in college. im not really a sports person though so none of it stuck
#13 How tall are you? im like 5'3"-5'6" range
#14 Favorite subject in school? english in elementary and middle school, theatre in high school
#15 Dream job? building, executing, and performing in haunted houses. hell house is an aspirational tale to me
tagging @zoinkszim @snatchinsometeeth @alissocool @goth-dad-666 @slightlymoldybread @infini-tree @k1spiegel do it if u want :)
uhhh im gonna swap out #2 for "Do you ever go window shopping on sites like Etsy, and if so, what kinds of things do you look at?"
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Matt Bellamy answers fan questions for the Australian Triple J magazine in 2007.
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Mighty Pomgolian rockers Muse have some of muse’s most hardcore fans, so we let them call the shots. Frankly, we were afraid not to.
WORDS: Samantha Clode
“Salt Lake City tends to be one of those places where people go berserk,” says Matt Bellamy. “Maybe it’s all the salt plains surrounding them…” jmag finds the prodigious 29-year-old Muse frontman in the US, where he’s just finished up a stint with the tour physio. “I’ve got mild tennis elbow, I was playing squash and I think I stretched my arm or something,” he says. “But it’s nothing serious, I’m just sitting here with an ice pack on my elbow. Not too many Pete Townshend guitar swings tonight, I don’t think.”
With a second tour in 12 months heading our way in November, the trio from Devon are bringing their huge, prog rock stage spectacular down under following a stint on the 2007 Big Day Out. Rather than us throw a bunch of questions on Muse’s frontman, we asked you guys to tell us what you wanted to know…
Muse have some obsessive, dedicated fans. Where do you think the line is between being in the spotlight and having your privacy invaded?
Bronwyn, 17, Bungendore, ACT
Everyone should be entitled to be at home, relaxing away from it all and not have people knocking on their door. I get a bit, yeah, and that's the place to draw the line. When we're out on the road we try to meet people and generally be friendly, but I'm glad that we're not super famous people where we're chased when we're going to the supermarket. I expect to be able to go there without having any hassles like that. I don't want to be caught buying toilet paper!
Have you seen Museslash? (Fan stories about the band, usually involving sex.)
Becky, 15, Woodford, Vic
Museslash? No, I definitely want to check it out though, it sounds good, entertaining. I haven't heard of it until now, but I'll definitely be checking it out now, that sounds very interesting (laughs).
Who's your fave pianist of all time?
Lachlan, 16, Ashfield, NSW
Firstly [Russian composer Sergei] Rachmaninoff. It's a close call between Franz Liszt [Hungarian romantic], Rachmaninoff and [Polish prodigy Frederic] Chopin. Some people argue that Liszt is up there, but Rachmaninoff has some kind of weird, dark edge to his music, which I don't think I've heard with any other kind of music before. So for that reason I give it to him - he's got a dark heard.
Do you think your friendship has helped you three guys deal with your success?
Rachelle, 23, Brookvale, NSW
I wouldn't say success has been a problem, but I'd certainly say that issues come up with being away from home for eight months at a time. Especially Chris, who has kids and a family. But having a really close friendship helps us through tough times. I wouldn't define success as being a touch problem; I've enjoyed it very much. It's more the touring side.
So, any fisticuffs?
(Laughs) Yeah, well... I'm glad I don't try it because Chris would probably take my head off with one hit. We've had a few chairs thrown around and a lot of drum kits being smashed, I think me and Chris both attacked Dom and his drum kit a few times... but with friendly intentions!
If you're in Australia and you've only got $20, how are you going to spend it?
Luke, 16, Devonport, Tas
You should be able to answer that question better than me, what do you recommend I do? Can you get, like, a bus journey to the outback for that much money? I'll pretend to be on the dole and get a rail ticket to the outback and go and live in the wild for a couple of years.
What was your first trip to Australia like?
Marina, 25, Brunswick, Vic
It was brilliant. We loved all the sunshine, it blew us away. We're used to the grey, miserable depression of England, so being there was a breath of fresh air really. I remember getting freaked out by all these massive bats that were flying around our hotel. We were staying on the top floor in Sydney, and we were hanging out on the roof having a gathering with a couple of bottles of wine, and we noticed we were surrounded by massive bats. That's the first time I'd ever seen bats in my life - we all shat ourselves and ran away.
Is there any specific place you would want to be at the end of the world?
Orri, 18. Reykjavik, Iceland
On a yacht, actually. It would be nice to be on the sea, away from all the chaos, just chilling out an relaxing. Depends... if the end of the world was a massive tsunami, then you definitely wouldn't want to be out on a boat, but if it was carnage and chaos and everyone was going mental, then I think it might be nice just to chill out on a boat. Go round the Maldives or Indonesia, cruise around, swim in the sea and pretend everything's find. You could probably live off fish for a while. Get one of those little water purification systems so you could just chill out and get away from it all...
You've said seeing an image of Hendrix setting his guitar on fire opened your mind to what music could be. What was it about that scene that turned you on?
Anthony, 22, Bundamba, Qld
I suppose it was the chaos and the edge, the new idea that you can do whatever you want in your life and in your music. When I was that age, being in a rock band seemed like it was going to give me that opportunity, to be loose and pretty much do whatever I wanted, both on stage in music and in my life. I always loved music, but it wasn't until I saw that that I realised it could actually change your whole lifestyle.
I heard a rumour about the recording of 'Plug In Baby' [from 2001's Origin Of Symmetry]. involving mushrooms, nudity and a sauna. What's the story?
Tim, 20, Riverview, NSW
(Laughs) Uh, yeah. It was in between recording takes. In England every now and again, certainly when it rains, loads of mushrooms grow. You take them to open your mind up to a broader dimension - you get to see the world from a different perspective. I'm sure you get them over there as well, but in England they grow in fields, you can find them anywhere. They often grow near cow shit, unfortunately. We found ourselves... not full naked, but definitely partially naked, in a bathtub rolling around. The mixture between that and doing the takes... I can't actually remember recording the songs to be honest, but I remember listening to it and saying, "Whoa, man, this is cool!" But a week later we listened to it and thought it was all a bit crap, so we had to spend a week fixing it up. But for writing and exploring new ideas, I'd recommend mushrooms. God put them there for us to use! It's nature's drug, you shouldn't make nature illegal.
Is it true Muse once supported the Spice Girls? What was that like?
Lucy, 27, Blackburn, Vic
I've no idea where this came from! I think someone stuck it on the internet for a joke and everyone believed it; it's completely false. I've never played with them or met them. I wish I did - I would've loved to have supported them... ideally on the same bus as well.
How does it feel to be the biggest little man in music?
Andrew, 21, Koolewong, NSW
(Laughs) It's quite good. With the guitar on stage you get to feel quite: "Hey man, I'm not too bad after all! I'm 5'7 but I can play some good riffs so it's all right. Everything's okay." (Can't stop laughing.)
Are you easy to work with?
Jesse, 18, Gympie, Qld
(Ponders) Um... no, probably not, I'd say. I'm easy to work with people who know me, but with strangers I'm quite difficult. Just because there are ways I'm used to doing things: it's probably the disadvantage of being in a band for so long, you become very connected together and have certain ways of working. I've noticed that when you bring other people into the equation they can misinterpret the way you are as being very aggressive or very forward. But when you're working with your own bandmates you're used to dealing that way.
Do you crack the whip, then?
We all crack whips with each other, depending what it is. They all crack whips with me when I'm playing the piano too much! I generally crack the whip at them when they're playing cheap drum riffs. Between the three, somewhere we find a balance.
Is the Paul McCartney song 'Mr Bellamy' written about you? (It depicts a delusional 'Mr Bellamy' sitting on a roof and refusing to come down.)
Marty, 26, Hawthorn, Vic
I don't think so! I'll check it out. I seriously doubt it's about me but... I'd be very surprised if it was, that would be a funny situation.
Is it true you're thinking of working with an orchestra next?
Amelia, 22, North Perth, WA
If Dom and Chris let me! No, I definitely wanted to do the whole "we've blown it and become a total pop band" and I'm sure we'll do some more bits that are a bit more groovy and more dance. More up-tempo. There's definitely a few bits and pieces lying around that have been unfinished for so long that I just think we should lay them down. We certainly wouldn't do a whole album but definitely a couple of pieces that we might be able to release outside of an album might be interesting.
How did your father's band (the Tornadoes) influence you as a musician?
Jervis, 18, Mornington, Vic
Dad introduced me to music when I was very young, and played me a lot of '50s and '60s records that I probably would never have heard of if it wasn't for him. I definitely got that more sci-fi... well, not sci-fi, but I guess what people like to call the more "spacey" sound from his band. The band he was in before the Tornadoes did this song called 'Telstar' - that song was the most well known. [The instrumental, named after a satellite, was the first British song to hit No.1 in the US.] For the '50s it did sound very futuristic, and very kind of spacey, so that element of the band definitely came from him.
Is it true you live in the house of former opera composer Vincenzo Bellini and you're trying to conjure up his ghost?
Amanda, 23, Ferny Grove, Qld
I don't actually live there. The band were building a place where we could rehearse and live while we were rehearsing, and it's in the grounds of an Italian opera composer's house. I tried to get some of his vibes going because I listened to some of his music and I think it's brilliant stuff. It definitely feels like it's got some kind of musical ghost hanging around. If I was ever going to get a house and it was haunted, I'd want it to be haunted by a great composer, that's kind of ideal for me (laughs).
Do Muse fall into roles in the studio?
Chris, 17, Glenelg, SA
Dom tends to take the role of the pedantic devil for the detail; he goes mental for absolutely every little detail. Chris is more the person who moderates the vibe and says, "Look, this isn't happening, take a break and wait for a day, wait for a few hours until it's going to happen." Dom would play the same song 20 times a day and get it wrong 20 times, whereas Chris would say, "Let's just take a break and come back." Dom would be all, "No, let's keep playing." I pretend to be behind the desk. I'm always drawn to being with the producer. I should be on the other side of the glass singing and playing, but I'm always behind the desk trying to control things - I always end up getting told to fuck off and get back in where I belong!
So are you into recording other artists?
Yeah, definitely. It's frustrating when we're making our own records, because I want to be involved in the production myself but I can't do it when I'm actually playing, you know? It's something I'd like to do when I'm older, too old to tour or something. So maybe in about 10 years when I'm slowing down a bit and I've got tennis elbow - tennis everything! - I'll start producing records instead.
What's one of your most memorable moments visiting Australia?
Dom, 22, Preston, Vic
There's been loads. The Big Day Out is always loads of fun, I got to hang out with a lot of great bands there. This year was good: it's a bit of a blur, but I remember trashing someone's house. We had an amazing party in this really expensive flat in Melbourne. Some crazy guy decided he would let a few bands part there. By the end of it I remember seeing Mike [Skinner] from the Streets holding a couch in the air - he was surfing the couch while taking paint off the wall! I feel sorry for the guy whose house it was, but he certainly should have known what was going to happen when he invited us!
If there's a colour for sex, what would it be?
Caitlyn, 15, Chirnside Park, Vic
(Pause) Well it's got to be red hasn't it, surely? Blue's a bit too boring.
It's pretty obvious from Black Holes And Revelations you're disillusioned by the current political climate. Does public apathy get you down? Or do you hold out hope for a revolution?
Tegan, 17, Banara Point, NSW
I'd say I'm generally optimistic about people, but I'm pessimistic about society, and the way it's all been put together. But generally I'm very optimistic that people will pull through and come out shining at the other side. I think w're likely to see some heavy shit over the next 50 or 100 years, but if you look forward 100 years there's going to be a group of people having a laugh somewhere.
A couple of big bands have joined together lately - Audioslave, Velvet Revolver. If you had to start another band who would you have in it?
Josh, 22, Waverton, NSW
Speaking of Audioslave, Tom Morello would certainly be the guitarist; Flea from Chili Peppers on the bass. Drums... who's brilliant? Maybe Jimmy Chamberlain, the guy who played for the Pumpkins. Singing would have to be Tom Waits, I'd say. I think that would be an interesting grouping.
Everyone is impressed by the XY synth pad on your guitar in 'Invincible' Do you do all the work on your guitars yourself?
Dan, 19. Armidale, NSW
I've just always fancied something and gone, "I can't believe no one thought of that before." I had this effects unit I was using, the XY controller, and I thought, well, why don't I just stick it in the guitar? Luckily I've got a friend who makes guitars, so I said, "Can you stick this in the guitar for me?" and he worked on it for a while. It took us a couple of goes to get it right but it was quite decent. So it's just a case of imagining something and having a mate who can built it. So a lot is custom made, not personally by me but invented by me, if you like.
How difficult is it to use a jetpack?
Kieran, 20, Waurn Ponds, Vic
(Laughs) I wouldn't know, because I've never used a jetpack. I think I saw one once, didn't Michael Jackson use one to get on stage? I've got something that's a bit like that, but it's not actually a get engine. It's a 50cc engine with a propeller attached. You just take a sort of parachute to jump off a hill, and you use the engine to push you higher and higher, It's not really a jet, though - "jet" makes it sound a bit more exciting!
Will you be using this device on stage?
The problem is it's very weather dependent, so it could go terribly wrong. It's 50/50 that I could hit the stage - there's a chance I could accidentally go in to the crowd and the propeller would probably mince up about 100 people! So maybe I'll save save that for when we're playing a super massive outdoor venue. "Everyone stand back!"
Lastly, jmag wants to know what's the question you'd most like to be asked?
You're going to ask me that now, aren't you? I'm trying to imaging someone coming in to an interview and just saying, "Ah, fuck it - do you fancy a pint?" If you ever meet me, instead of doing the interview just say that and we'll go down the pub, have a drink and have a much more relaxed time.
Well, next time, that's what we'll do.
Sounds good to me.
———///——///———
Track Record : Muse
Formed:
Back in the early ’90s, three students at Teignmouth Community College in Devon, UK, were in separate bands before forming Muse in 1997. Original name? Rocket Baby Dolls
Members:
Matthew Bellamy (guitar/keys/vocals), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums)
Albums:
Four to date: Showbiz (1999), Origin Of Symmetry (2001), Absolution (2003) and Black Holes And Revelations (2006)
Random facts:
Gold Coast act the Sick Puppies covered ‘Stockholm Syndrome’
Justin Timberlake described Muse as “the best band there was” at the 2006 MTV European Music Video Awards
2004’s Glastonbury’s set would be described by Bellamy as “the best gig of our lives”. Sadly Dominic’s father, Bill, suffered a heart attack immediately after, and died
Muse’s ‘Space Dementia’ is the soundtrack to the latest perfume ad by cosmetics giant Christian Dior
#unleashing this on the world at last. Happy birthday you silly guy.#I haven't transcribed the more uh. Saucy stuff via fans on the forums that's in the scans but I can if you’d like me to#Just thought this post was getting a bit long lol#muse band#matt bellamy#MATT!!#matt from muse#muse#muse interviews#Muse quotes#madlad lol#2007#Triple J magazine#Mag scans#Black Holes era#long post
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a meme!
Thanks for tagging me @notasapleasure
1. Are you named after anyone?
Not after a real person. My mom said it was a name of a doll in some kind of fairy tale that she watched (or read?) and she just liked that name.
2. When was the last time you cried?
A week ago. Well, I guess I asked for it: after all those years I just should have known better than dwell on that kind of stuff from the past and in this part of my hormone cycle. (You know stuff like one of these few extremally rare moments in your life someone from your closest family said sth that made you feel like shit but thinking about it years after still never fails to make you feel like shit all over again?)
3. Do you have kids?
No. Surprisingly no. If asked ten years ago I would most surely say I'm going to. Not that I ever really desired it so much. More that not wanting was always considered as something that is worthy of condemnation. So it was just that "normal thing to do" with no deeper thinking involved nor required, you know?
4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
It depends but sometimes it feels like the last thing that is left to defence my mental stability. And I'd rather be commenting an absurdish situation (especially in my job) than a person.
5. What sports do you play/have you played?
Table tennis my love!❤ Any other I ever tried playing is not even worth mentioning (I played field hockey two or three times and football once or twice and I remember really enjoying it. But unfortunately girls were let to play it extremally rarely, we were expected to play volleyball or basketball - none of which I ever liked😑)
6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?
I'm not sure what kind of situation I'm expected to consider... So in the place where I am just a random person in the crowd (railway station and such) I would probably first notice if anyone looked angry or impatient or irritated - to make sure I can avoid getting on their way (e.g. being a patient in a waiting room it's about sitting quietly with your head low and ignoring any possible evil comments about healthcare and politics). As for when I'm feeling safe or even going to meet someone new - I will pay attention to people's face expression and eyes, I also like to see someone smiling or doing or wearing something that make me think we have something in common. Also I notice their clothes sometimes if I liked the colour or the pattern (I can't help it, my brain is of visual artist😅 It doesn't mean I judge ppl by their look. Many times I find something ugly in objectively pretty person that I did not liked and in somebody I liked I'd always find some beautiful detail, regardless their look)
7. What's your eyes colour?
Yellow on the inside with blue ring on the outside. I like to think it makes them look a bit green from a distance.
8. Scary movies or happy endings?
If only two options avaliable I'd rather choose happy ending. Life is scary enough😅
9. Any special talents?
Drawing I guess. I am able to project a picture from my brain to a flat paper with a piece of charcoal and it's like freaking magic. It never stopped to amaze me.
10. Where were you born?
In a town in north Poland.
11. What are your hobbies?
Drawing most of all. Also creating short stories on my head I then illustrate or longer stories I sometimes write down. Given more free time I also like to engage into pyrography, sewing stuffed toys or crocheting. From time to time I like to travel, most usually to one of Polish towns but traveling abroad I like too.
12. Do you have any pets?
Cat for the last 4 years. Before that I was having syrian hamsters for almost 20 years (16 hamsters).
13. How tall are you?
165 centimeters.
14. Favorite subject in school?
Mathemathics above everything else! Also liked Polish, biology and chemistry. Most hated was always sports, while geography, history and physics were dangerously close to "hate" line.
15. Dream job?
Dream as "daydream"? I sometimes fantasize if I was born again I'd like to be one of the graphics making animated movie, like those of a Pixar studio. Or a pastor officiating weddings of gay couples
Dream as what I wish or plan: creating art on request or design prints for t-shirt, cushions and children blankets, maybe designing playing cards too - just enough for me to be satisfied that I can do it and my client to have a personalized gift. At the same time working other job 2-3 days a week to earn just enough for a comfortable life.
Tag fifteen mutuals - that's the worst part, how do I get so much?😑 Okey, everybody, feel invited but not pressed: @figuringthengsout , @chrisoels , @morulezopelforever , @sharp-lines-in-charcoal , @parttimereptile , @greenbloodedskink , @krejong , @theflyingrhubarb , @sunlightismydestroyer-blog , @asteeee , @bylercultism , @princesspink48484 , @elephant-reincarnation , @angleshades , @sweetlullabyebye
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Hi beans! I’m sorry you are sad. I’m a big admirer of your talent and TD is one of my absolutely favourite works in existence, the way it makes me feel soothes my aching soul. You don’t know me, but I wish I could hug you 🫂 I never give advises when not asked, but wanted to share few things, but please ignore it darling, if you don’t like nosy people. First part is on you feeling low, second on Max hate part.
1) About the notion that you feel like you are an inconvenience to people, my therapist said one thing that shifted my perspective dramatically. Of course it works only if people around you don’t go around verbalising that you are useless and they’d rather not have you in their life, those are complete and utter knobs, they are unsafe and I want to punch that kind of people in the face. But when no one told you that and it’s your own head working overtime, it could potentially invite some insightful thinking on the subject matter.
She asked me how I know that I’m inconvenience to them. I shared my feelings.
Therapist: did they tell you that? Me: no but I can feel it. Therapist: so you have made decision FOR them on how to feel about you. Do you think it’s fair to them?
I was flabbergasted, shocked and gagging. In time I realised that it applies for everything, making assumptions on how people feel, even if you think you are making them a favour ‘I won’t call my friend and ask for support because it’s their family time and I don’t want to be a bother’ is still counted as taking decision from them. I would be fucking heartbroken if my friend/family didn’t call me while I’m supposedly busy cause she thinks she is being an inconvenience for me. No please god no, I want to take care of you. I started rumbling, sorry I’ll shut up xdxd
2. The Max hate part. I could try and explain my journey. I’m 32 and am a different sports fan from when I was 8. English football, tennis, formula 1, you name it. The football fan community is an absolute joke, I’m never involved in any comments cause they are ridiculous mostly, people leaving unnecessary hateful comments are happen to be not the the type of people I would want to interact with in the first place. I support my guys and girls and don’t really think about their competition. If the competition was unfair to my baby, I might be angry and emotional in the moment but I won’t stalk every single post in every single platform and spread my calculated hate agenda. If my baby is unfair to his competition (which is not the case with Max, he is one of the fairest athletes, I love it so much about him) I can understand the hurt in the heat of the moment, but I draw a line, when they start spreading it it in every single post in every single platform. Those are the same people everywhere, trust me, I can see that in some few communities I am a part of (with hundreds of thousands members) it’s just hard to see patterns in global platforms like IG, Twitter. Certain fans are slowly becoming a laughing stock, when you are being unreasonable, that’s what eventually happens. This kind of fans persistence to throw shit around themselves is astounding, like chill bro. I don’t want to point fingers, but there are mostly 2 drivers limited number of fans who work overtime, but it’s a very small number. If you feel overwhelmed, just don’t go their yet, immediately after they think they found some justification for their hate. They are not kind of people you would want as your friend in real life, they are unreasonable and petty.
For reference, I have a little cozy Formula one community of 15 guys and girls where we discuss races and play fantasy league. So, everyone only cares about racing part of the Formula one, some are biased of course, but Max is only ever mentioned in the context of his driving. And most of the people are his big fans, they think he is crazy, inevitable and absolutely brilliant. They make fun of him cause maybe he is killing his poor competition this season and makes our league boring result wise, but never once I in 3 years I’ve heard hate towards him.
Another reference, I’m going to Baku to attend the formula 1, there will be 5 of my friends including me. 3 independent Max lovers and 2 that really know nothing about formula 1 but have no choice but support Max because we won’t shut up about him xdxdxdx one guy is a nerd and pisses himself in excitement over Max driving skills, I am who is both (I’m also in love with his personality) and another guy liked Seb and Red Bull and transferred his love through to Max as the golden boy.
Anyway, beans. I don’t know why I wrote all that, just please take care of yourself, I don’t know you, but my gut tells me you a the most kind, gentle soul. And my heart aches when you are sad
🥺🥺🥺🥺 honestly I’ve read this so many times and I’m just stunned that you took the time to send me this absolutely lovely message! I almost wanted to save it in my inbox forever so I could look at it whenever I need to, but I thought I would unleash it to the world incase anyone else needs to read your kind words!
I can’t thank you enough for this 🥹♥️
I really hope you enjoy Baku! I am also going so maybe we will somehow cross paths without knowing haha! ♥️
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Bob and Craig on a day off, a day after. Fic is therapy, as always.
...
Craig's never seemed like the tennis-shoes type.
You don't - Bob doesn't - look at him and think he must, on his days off, wear jeans and a t-shirt, go for a walk in the park, go out for a night on the town, can't picture him in a bar slipping nickels in the jukebox and sipping cheap beer in a glass that sweats harder than the shimmying girls and the fellas on the dance floor. The lights spinning fantastic off his glasses. Tapping his toe.
Craig's not a man who lingers, who doesn't know how many drinks he's going to have before he goes home, the day-time heat of the macadam still pulsing up his soles at two in the morning. Bob has seen him, Craig, two in the morning, three in the morning, his hands with purpose, his lashes still gritty with the half-sleep, his voice steady, his voice a half-step coarser than the after-lunch afternoon, the chipper morning.
Sometimes you come up hard against the night, you come up short against the gambling moon, and the stars laugh and take their share, and you think, goddammit, I never shoulda played that hand, I never shoulda upped that ante, I never shoulda called. The moon sprawls deranged across the harbor and whispers: you know me baby, you know I made the shadows, you know I walk the stars home and kiss the sun good night, you know I know whose footsteps those are past your bedroom window, you know me baby, you ain't never gonna slip past less you put your stardust shoes on and make a deal with the dark.
And baby, you ain't gonna do that, cause you wanna live to see the daytime.
Some nights the moon lays her cool hand on your fever and some nights the devil paid her off to look the other way, and there you go, the blood and the night lays one in each hand like the scales of justice.
Bob comes home and he draws his curtains and he stares at the stranger in the medicine cabinet mirror and he pops a couple of unisom tabs and crashes, hard, under the shushing ceiling fan, sleeps so deep so hard he's almost down under the bed amid the lost socks and the spiders, he's a cloud racing above the earth and torn to pieces by the hot wind down the mountain, he's timeless, dreamless, in stasis.
He wakes dry-mouthed, sand-eyed, out of place, teetering on the precipice of some biblical eighth day where God rolled over, looked at the world He had created and rubbed his stubbled face and thought real hard, too hard, about what He'd done and what He'd wrought across the empty space of the sky. Panicked eyes stare up at him from the depths of a yesterday. He looks away.
Craig's apartment building has a pool, oblong, deep enough to sparkle like a sequin left on a nightclub chair by a beautiful dame, the one little sequin, you might find it caught in your pocket, later, driving home. A beautiful dame. Don't run so hot in heels. Craig's apartment building has a name far fancier than its brown-brick sides and white hollow-core doors, something-Gardens, something like that, and it perches uncomfortably in a neighborhood of pre-fab bungalows with bars on their windows. Bob rings the bell three times.
He waits. The sun shifts. An old man whose barrel chest is covered in thick, coarse white curls tosses a little girl in a pink ruffled swimsuit into the pool and she laughs and laughs and climbs into his arms and says grandpa, again.
He waits. The second floor balconies withdraw their shade like a punishment.
A pair of sneakers slides haltingly into his line of sight.
"Bob."
Craig leans forward, hands on strong thighs, calves tight, breathes deep into his belly as if he's just come from a fire, as if he's leaning on the engine, gasping, as if he's drawing up the strength like water from the hydrant to grab a line, slap down his mask, and go back in. Breathes deep.
Without his glasses he looks too young. One of the high school boys, come in from track practice.
"If this is about the - "
"Kinda."
"I followed protocol."
"We did."
"So - "
"So we did what we were supposed to do, and we lost anyway, and I got a problem with that, how 'bout you?"
Craig squints at him. The sun. "I went over it. I ran six miles - six miles and four blocks - and I went over it and we didn't do anything wrong."
Grandpa, a SoCal Santa Claus in red trunks, brings the little girl a thick towel and a glass of something with more ice than drink. He rests his hand on her head, and she giggles through chattering teeth. A curvy woman in polka dots - polka dot suit, polka dot sunglasses, polka dot ribbon in her black hair - shakes a bottle of lotion for all it's got.
"I don't know what happened." Craig says. His voice is tight. His voice is bitter like the dawn when you've been up all night to see it. "I just don't know."
"It's bullshit, is what it is."
"Bullshit." Craig looks considerate for a moment - then nods. As if it's some deeper wisdom.
"I didn't come to take a stripe off you, kid, I just came to see - " A rivulet of sweat runs down Craig's neck and he thinks about that time he couldn't find him, couldn't find him and couldn't find him, and then he did find him and he was bent over, hot, retching onto the asphalt and coughing, and Bob caught him up between the growl of the pumpers and the daylight off the chrome and held him, for a moment, and he smelled like smoke and the belly of the beast. Held him like he might keep him rooted firmly to the earth. " - you wanna go for a beer? A burger? Five-cent tacos at Carlito's on the Sand?"
"...can I change?"
"You can put your glasses on."
"I'm going to change."
"I was joking."
"I know. I think. I'm going to change. You can come in. Don't spill anything."
"I'd never."
"I was joking."
"Good."
#emergency!#emergency! fic#bob bellingham#craig brice#I'm not super a fan of this but it'll go here anyway
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CLAMP TRPG Translation
2章 CLAMP学園で遊んでみよう
Chapter 2 Let's play at CLAMP Academy
TRPGの世界へようこそ
Welcome to the world of TRPG
「役 」の行動やセリフを遊戯者たちが自分自身で常に考え続けなければなりません。TRPGをプレイするのにもつとも必要なルールが「想像力」であり、想像力を用いれば架空学園への入学も容易なのです。TRPGのルールを使ってCLAMP学園での生活を楽しもうとする場合, それは以下のようなものとなります。
Players must constantly think for themselves about the actions and lines of their "role". The most necessary rule to play TRPG is "imagination", and if you use imagination, it is easy to enter a fictitious school. If you want to enjoy life at CLAMP Gakuen using the rules of TRPG, it will be as follows.
(1 ) 徒(または関者) 想象し, その特技や能力を設定します。
(1) Imagining a person (or a person involved) and setting their special skills and abilities.
「例 私はテニスに大燃える少女, 庭野磨子よ！特技はもちろんテニス。得意技は強靭な腕力で打ち込むサービスエース (サーブによる得点) だわ！]
"For example, I'm Mako Niwano, a girl who's passionate about tennis! My specialty is tennis, of course. My specialty is serving ace (scoring by serving) with strong physical strength!]
(2) 自分がCLAMP学園内にいるところを想像し,自分が何をしたいのか、どんな行動るのか...を考えます。
(2) Imagine yourself in CLAMP Gakuen and think about what you want to do and how you will act.
「例 今日は高等部学生会主催のテニス大会！得意のサービスエースをばしばし決めて優勝するわ！」
“Ex. Today is a tennis tournament hosted by the high school student council!
(3) 周囲の況や、先に設定した自分の特技や能力を基に, その行動の結果がその世界にどのような影響を与えたのかを決定します。つまり、自分の行動がCLAMP学園世界の状況を(行動の影響の大きさによって）様々に変えていくことになるわけです。
(3) Based on the surrounding circumstances and your special skills and abilities that you set earlier, decide how the result of your actions will affect the world. In other words, your actions will change the situation in the world of CLAMP Academy in various ways (depending on the magnitude of the impact of your actions).
「例 個人戦優勝！特訓の成果を遺録まで樹立してしまったわ！ほつしまっしま」
"Ex. Winning the individual competition!
I've even established new record because of my special training! I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I've got about 50 pages of rules so it's going to take me some time manually drawing each character into google translate. Translation done by google. I don't have dependable access to a scanner but here's a shit picture as proof.
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