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keefwho · 1 year

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April 24 - 2023

9:24 AM

I feel like there’s some kind of stigma against sticking with the people you love. At least around where I’m at. It’s almost like everyone is expected to up and rush off to their career or dream or whatever and are meant to leave everyone behind to meet new people. I got that treatment and still do. Personally I have old plans to live in the same town as my childhood friend when he gets back from the air force but when I tell mom that, I get “Are you just gonna copy him your whole life???” Like, no, I just don’t have anything keeping me tied to one place so I have the luxury of following someone important to me. If I wasn’t moving near him, I’d be staying around here with my family or moving to live near another friend. I don’t want to partake in this “leave everyone behind” mentality that was pushed on me and others since high school. I’d prefer to think people are more important than careers or personal dreams to an EXTENT. Obviously people should follow what they want to do in life but for people like me who aren’t quite sure or are content with what they are doing, it’s best to stick with my friends.

Really this rant is all about expectations put on me by others. Basically me and everyone in my class were told “Go to college at all costs. You will be leaving everyone you know behind but don’t worry because you will make new friends :)” I didn’t even WANT to go to college, but I did. And guess what, the friends I made there were gone as soon as college was done and I was left with NO ONE but the friend who decided to stick with me because maybe he too realized how important it was to stick together.

Or maybe it’s all about not giving up even if you get separated. I know there are some people I would never give up on under any circumstances. But I’m a loyal person.

Its a bold claim but I think depending on each other is underrated. Not in an unhealthy way, I think it’s a delicate balance to “depend” on someone in a healthy way but it is possible. Normal even, because that’s how we used to be not even that long ago. It’s part of that tribe-like mentality.

5:00 PM

I’m very aggro today. I don’t like how angry I can get sometimes at seemingly nothing. Not that I do anything with it. But I end up feeling like a bad person with such baseless negative emotions. Well I guess they aren’t baseless, they all have a root in something. Right now I think it’s jealousy and maybe a bit of being fed up with having to put up with people in general.

11:56 PM

Today was mid. I was productive at least. During stream this morning I was having a ton of trouble with the commission getting the colors right and more or less gave up for the day because I have all week to do it. I figured it would be best to stop until tomorrow. Other than that I worked on some sketches. I really wanna get all the sketches on my desktop finished as fast as they get replenished. I have some minor fear though that it might be weird how many of them are of a certain horse but I shouldn’t feel like that at this point. I shouldn’t have ever felt like that. The fact is I have commissions and then things I actually WANT to draw. If I didn’t have commissions then I would probably have more art variety with my personal drawings but at the moment I only have enough creative energy to work on what’s most important to me and that is art of my own OC and the bestie. In my heart thats what I want to draw and I will not limit myself because of some silly thoughts. I know what I’m doing is welcome.

I did everything I was supposed to today and got very tired. The afternoon didn’t have as much relaxing as I’d liked but it was okay. I mostly just watched MoonMoon and then finished the night off with some Mother 3 in call.

I’ve really been struggling developing that elusive sense of self. Probably because it’s a fairly obscure concept. But I know something is wrong because of how I perceive myself and how hard it is to relate to others. One of my biggest goals is to form more meaningful connections but it’s hard to do that when I don’t have myself figured out. There’s too many points to go over in detail but I know I need to work on being more present rather than caught up in my own thoughts, and I need to work on seeing myself and my interactions with others as being current and dynamic rather than a sort of pre-scripted event. I know that line of thinking comes from my personal belief system that I and the others around me are pre-determined characters. I always think things should go certain ways with certain people. For instance, if I speak with someone I haven’t seen in a long time, I would likely think that they must be doing so much better than me and I should be humble in their presence. They probably want nothing to do with me and see no value in who I’ve become. It would be wrong of me to even think otherwise. That obviously not true but thats the kind of way I think about myself sometimes. I can’t see certain situations going any other way than I’ve pre-determined for my character and it’s extremely limiting to how I operate and the kind of friends I can make. I’d probably consider this one of my biggest flaws and something I’m still only beginning to tackle.

This might have something to do with my environment. It doesn’t help that I feel like I’m in a place that is completely unchanging. I don’t get out and see people actively doing things with their lives. My parents seem to do the same things over and over. The house never improves. It’s like I’m stuck in time sometimes. I have to constantly seek out and make note of actual changes like an online friend’s schedule or how my art is doing or new games coming out. Small things like that are the only sense of change I get but I don’t think it’s enough. But thats why I’m trying to get off the property if only I can keep finding a good reason to.

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erithacuscreations · 2 years

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10/22 Update

Hello all. I don’t have exciting updates this month. I’ve gone back to working 5 days a week and I’m exhausted all the time. Next week I work a little less because we hired more people, but I don't know if the lightened workload is gonna be something that sticks around. I always feel guilty talking about how tired I am because I know other people work more hours and are probably more exhausted than I am. And my job isn’t that hard, and I’m treated better than most, and the pay is okay… But doing things that aren’t laying down and drinking tea make me want to…well, lay down and drink tea, haha. Work is loud and fast paced and overwhelming and coming home and relaxing and finding something my brain enjoys engaging with is such a relief. I deal with so many people at work that coming home and not talking to strangers is pure bliss. I don’t hate my job, I feel like getting some stimulation in my otherwise boring day is necessary, I just....would rather be home lol.

If I’m not at work, I’m on my phone. I have a serious problem with obsessively checking social media. My issue is sort of rooted in my fear of missing content and inspiration and information I think? I’m so afraid of “what if I’m not seeing every piece of art this artist puts out and I miss some key point of character inspiration that I would have otherwise missed” and “what if today is a holiday or there’s an event or a tragedy and I don’t know about it and look stupid because of it later” and “what if I miss a tidbit of information and my mental encyclopedia is incomplete because of it” and I think I’m ready to actually…confront this? Maybe? I don’t know if I can do more than slowly make minor improvements but I’m ready to try something new I think.

This problem dates back to high school actually, back to good ol’ DA and FA. Art sites made it easy to consume my favorite artists’ work. Back then, I was never really worried about missing a piece from an artist I followed because it was delivered straight into my inbox. No sponsored posts in a non-chronological feed, no low-engagement posts hidden by an algorithm… It was nice. I still vastly prefer keeping up with artists on sites like these. But my consumption of art was still focused on seeing EVERYTHING.

The rise of social media and mobile phones ruined me. Facebook was fine when I first started using it and the feed was chronological. But when I started missing posts because of algorithm bullshit, I got paranoid that every time I was on social media I was missing something. Which led me to keep scrolling and scrolling to find posts that may or may not be missing.

Now, any downtime I have, I’m on my phone. I know part of it is my fear of missing something, but that’s not the only problem. Another issue is that my brain craves constant stimulation. If I’m not actively thinking to myself “I don’t need to be on my phone” I will just gravitate back to it instinctively, almost as if consuming content is my default state. If I’m not engaging with media actively, I’m incredibly restless and self destructive. Constantly stimming by moving or making noise or picking at every imperfect bump or scab or loose skin.

Changing my feeds to chronological or “latest first” helps a lot, but some apps don’t have an option for that (or they require multiple steps to find and apply and my brain balks at the inaccessibility) and I’m stuck endlessly scrolling, following the dopamine that new, engaging content injects directly into my brain and the panic of never finding the end of my social media feeds.

Trying to do things besides scroll is a combination of overwhelming and understimulating, especially when it involves sitting at my computer. I have so much to do on the computer that I can’t thing about sitting down at it without feeling overwhelmed. Actually sitting down and doing something is relatively easy, and I have ordered to-do lists to help me prioritize, but my executive dysfunction doesn’t allow me to stop scrolling social media and start a task because that jump between different styles and intensities of stimulation is just too much. And then the shame and disappointment in myself for not getting anything done takes over and I have to deal with that as well.

Getting to the point! I haven’t gotten anything done in the past month and I’m really beating myself up about it. I know I shouldn’t, that I can’t help my neurodivergency, but I still feel hopeless. I have reasonable goals and I’m still not meeting them. But I feel like acknowledging them is a good place to start at least. I have to get better. I have so much I want to do and I’m wasting so much time by not doing those things. I’ve got to try. I guess the point of me being so personal publicly is this: does anyone else experience this? Am I alone? I know this level of problem isn’t normal, but I want so desperately to find someone else like me. My problems only seem to be getting worse, but I don't see an end to it either.

This wasn’t supposed to turn into a rant/vent/monologue/justification for my behavior, but if you stuck through this wall of text, I really appreciate you. Sorry this got so long winded, and I know I'm kind of oversharing a bit, but lately I’ve really just been coming to terms with just how neurodivergent I am and it’s a mixed bag of emotions really. It feels good to get my thoughts down somewhere.

Oh! On a more lighthearted note,I also saw MCR live recently and that was pretty great. And I’ve gotten addicted to buying soap. Anyways, as always, I hope you all are doing well. Have a good day!

#text

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impostoradult · 3 years

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I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

All of that bothers me tremendously.

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.

Not ever.

I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

#Supernatural #Destiel #queer representation #sorry this is long

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bringbackthebastard · 3 years

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Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

#severus snape #snape fest #bring back the bastard fest 2021 #bring back the bastard fest #bring back the bastard #bring back the bastard prompts #harry potter fandom fest #hp fandom #snapedom #pro-snape #snapelove #prompts #daily prompts #snape prompts

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dreamonminecraft · 3 years

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my favorite wilbur lyrics in no particular order:

but i can't say that i/wasted my time/cause i am built by you/and i can't say that i/am glad it is over/cause that wouldn't be true

shout at the wall/cause the walls don't fucking love you

I think I've lost my mind

Blurring the fact and the fictions/While simultaneously fixing/Myself up with a girl/Named Panadol/Bite the tablet, elixir/Disintegrate, mouth's a mixer

we could eat the foam from the headrest/you could suck the wind out of my breath/you could kiss the teeth into my head/and still there's no cause for concern

you held his hands, it felt like flying/now he's just another man/you'd rather he was inside than beside you/but he's talking marriage and a future/he's picking a lock he doesn't go into/less knife in a wound, he's a suture

If I could just break one more night/maybe i could wake up and feel alright/my optimistically set alarm clock time/serves only to mock me with flashing lights

I was gonna wait for you/so this is not an act of spite/it's a visceral coming-to

It's not ahegao hoodie it's a work of art/so let me know when my feelings stop/I'm just your window to another world/where you ended up lost and poor/i don't wanna be a soft boy anymore

i won't wear the cat ears/i won't wear the cat ears/i won't please just don't make me wear the cat ears/I'm so done with the cat ears please no more cat ears

and yes you always do that one thing/cause when you throw and drench me under your drink/i try to figure out what that means/i took it as a taunt

the cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form/adorned with patches of places you've been/ is nothing on my khaki coat i got from the roadside/when i was 16/my boots are from airports/my backpacks from friends/I'm not a man of substance and so I'll pretend to be/wanderer, wandering, leaving acetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins/cut that bit out/the roads are my home as horizons my target/if i keep on moving I'll never lose sight of it/treating my memory of you like a fire/let it burn out/don't fight it/try to move on/it's been sixty week since i saw Vienna/a bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face/I'll pick up my hiking boots when I am ready/and I'll put down my roots when I'm dead/the distance is futile/come on don't be hasty/you'll get that feeling deep inside your bones/I'll be gone and/for when you must be alone

and i distrust their name/and i hate their haircut/they look like a prick/but it's all the same/you hug me goodbye/your tounge is razor sharp

my love/i love you everytime your face turns blue/and you speak over microphone/although it's only binary/i think it's timely that i asked if you'd marry me

push down your undesirables and lift up all the fakes/make sure you're not liable when they all make mistakes

you talk about habits/boy i can name a few/but i don't bloody understand it/is it chemical reactions or trained in two

oh I'm starting to succumb to my insecurities/maybe grade school was the place where i peaked

i don't miss you/i miss the thought of what we were

What was your thought when you realized/you'll never feel naive love again?/was it pain or was it sickness?

I want to be the guy/that you fall asleep on call with/I'll make you forget every guy that came before me/cause i like you/and you like my attention/let's skip to the good bit

eat my rent and eat my food/and eat my dues and eat those kids/and maybe use a sextant

and I'll write you songs/until my lungs fall out/until you hear me out

maybe one day I'll live in la Jolla/drinking cocktails out over the water/my own personal sunset/to give each day it's own diploma

when you hold his hands/it doesn't feel like flying/and when you take his breath away/he might as well be dying/and you're dying to breathe/your trapped in his cage/and it's shrinking/and she thought/what if he just never leaves/or he doesn't get the message/or he doesn't hear my pleas/so she just started screaming/why can't he just bore me to death

i said it last time/but I'm not afraid of empty rooms/I'm not afraid of new perfumes/and in fact my dear I'm fucking terrified

he never had cool stories/he doesn't make your heart beat/used to love his mystery/but now he's just exhausting/another day spent/just laying in his room/the stench of incense/and some undelivered food

my keyboards like my heart/it shines in RGB and it's full of blood

cultured men/venetian suntan/red wine and club bands/viagra pills on the nightstand/how's it feel/how's it feel to be so loved?/how's it feel to be so loved yet so alone?

But it’s you/I didn’t think that I’d have to say/But I miss you and think of you almost every single day/And it’s you/I thought I would be braver/But I've missed you too long/My heart flipped to a screensaver/To a screensaver

cause it's only/white wine in a Wetherspoons/fine dining with cheap perfume/DLR closed to worker's strike/god knows how i'll get home tonight

my twitter feeds like my brain/cause i have it on dark mode

i will bake/i will bake/i will bake phallic cake

because you are what reality is made of

I'm a gentleman what can I say?/I'm also really mentally stable/I'm gonna kill myself/if you don't go out with me

cause we're fires we're burning bright/breaking bottles and starting fights/but the evening has other plans/run as they pull up with two more vans

i think about him a lot as well/maybe if he wasn't fine as hell

I use everyone I ever meet/can't find the perfect match/abuse those i love/while i ostracize those who love me back

#some of these are serious #some of them are not #one is the entire lyrics to since i saw vienna written from memory and i know for a fact there's not a single mistake #(that's not sarcasm im in love with that song)#also almost all the lyrics to 'it's all futile! its all pointless' because we stan nihilism #anyway share your favorite songs/quotes #i tried to do one from every song #which means yes there's a line from karen please come back i miss the kids #and the nice guy ballad #and soft boi #enjoy :)#wilbur soot #lovejoy #i bet most of you haven't heard all these songs before ^°^

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Show Pony

Chapter 3: Roses Are Falling

Read on Ao3

Steve’s hand was sweaty in Billy’s as he pulled him through the crowds in the fairground, ducking and weaving between the people milling about.

Billy let himself be dragged, staring at Steve’s ass in his little denim shorts.

It had been one week since their date at the diner.

A week of Billy showing up to the rodeo, watching Steve compete in his event, and making out with him behind the arena.

It was fun, sneaking around together in the blazing summer heat.

He had even brought Max a few times, letting her wander around with some chick her own age she met. Apparently, her dad works at the rodeo or someshit. Billy wasn’t listening when she explained. Steve had been across the arena, taking off his flannel shirt and trading it for another one of his slutty little crop tops.

It was a gorgeous show.

But Max was somewhere eating her body weight in funnel cake while Steve took him into a tent labeled Employees Only.

There was an eclectic group of people sitting at the long tables in the tent, all greeting Steve as he pulled Billy through to a group of younger people sitting together at the end of one of the tables.

Steve pushed Billy onto one of the benches, perching right on his lap like that was totally fine. Like it was easy for Billy to just. Keep his dick in check.

The girl sitting across from them sighed heavily, raising one eyebrow at Steve.

“Shut up, Robin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she was still giving Steve a very pointed look.

“You don’t have to.” Steve slumped back against Billy’s chest, no doubt petulant.

She shook her head, finally addressing Billy.

“I’m Robin.”

“She does barrel racing,” Steve leaned back, muttering the information into Billy’s ear. His breath was hot against Billy’s skin, and Billy had to fight down a shiver that crept up his spine despite the blazing heat.

Another girl was sitting next to Robin, a pretty brunette with doe eyes to rival Steve’s. She seemed vaguely familiar.

And then it clicked.

“Aren’t you in the pageants?”

She laughed softly.

“My name’s Heather. And yes, I’m reigning Miss Rodeo USA, so I’ve been with these guys and will be until the next girl is crowned. It’s been a good time.” She glanced over at Robin, bumping their shoulders together. Billy raised one eyebrow at Robin, catching her eye and making her flush slightly. He shot her a quick wink.

Steve shifted in his lap, putting one arm over Billy’s shoulders, winding his fingers through his little ponytail.

“So, Billy,” Robin tried to move the conversation along, rolling her shoulders back. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope.”

“Nah, just, I feel like I know you quite well know. Like, really well. Like better than I ever wanted to know a guy-”

“Okay, yeah, Robin. We get it. Thanks.” Steve squirmed slightly in Billy’s lap, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears a bright red color. It was cute. Billy didn’t realize when Steve’s cheeks went all pink, that, other, places of him flushed too. He wondered how far down that rosy tint on Steve’s cheeks went. If it was all over his chest, if it leads down to his-

Nope. Not going there right now. Not when Steve is sitting on Billy’s lap, and they’re in fucking public. Absolutely not. No thanks. Billy’s fine.

Robin squinted at him, and he tried to keep his face as blank as possible.

Steve sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head.

“I’m getting a pop. Anyone else?”

Robin waved him off, and he was gone with a roll of his eyes.

“So, you’re the poor San Diego bastard. My condolences.”

Billy squinted at her.

“Not sure what you mean.”

She took a deep breath, looking at Heather briefly.

“Look. You know this little fling is just that. A little fling. Steve, he kinda, does this. Finds someone in every place we’re stationed, and has a month-long something with them. He loves attention but he’s too scared of commitment to do anything else. And honestly, I’m saying this all for your sake, because I’ve seen people get attached. He’s gonna eat you alive, and then he’s gonna leave, and it’s easier for you if you know that going in.”

Robin’s words settled like a fucking pit in Billy’s stomach.

Because, yeah. He, like, kinda figured that. He knew their time was limited. Knew that Steve would slip through his fingers. And really, that was fine. Billy thinks he’d be the exact same way if the roles were reversed, that he would be constantly moving from one person to the next, never getting lonely, but never getting deep, either.

He understands the whole commitment-phobe thing. Kinda takes one to know one.

So he gets it.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit to have it put. So plainly.

“I’m sorry. That was probably too harsh but, you seem like a nice guy, and Steve doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to hurt people, he just, definitely uses the whole traveling rodeo thing to his advantage.”

“Nah, I get it. Really, I kinda figured it out. He said he likes to make friends wherever they are. So, it’s fine. And I think sometimes harsh can be alright.” He doesn’t wanna make Steve’s friend feel bad.

And really, he did know what they were doing and what this was about. It just sucks having it confirmed by someone else. And put. So plainly.

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I just kinda wanted to prepare you. If this is gonna be something that hurts, maybe it’s best to get out now.” Robin had very pretty blue eyes and freckles all over her face. She seemed warm, and the way she was staring at him was with so much concern.

“Thank you. I get it, honest. I’d probably act just the same if I were him.”

“If you were who?” Steve had returned, slapping a can of root beer on the table in front of them, taking a seat pressed as close as possible to Billy, lifting up his arm to slide underneath it.

“Quit being nosy.” Robin reached out to muss up Steve’s hair, poking him in the forehead. “What are you two doing today?”

Steve shrugged, taking the bait and moving on.

“Wander the grounds. Maybe hang out at my place.” Billy’s interest piqued. He had no idea Steve had a place. “Might sneak out and go for a drive or something. You got any preference?” Steve leaned over the table, resting his elbows on top, placing his face in his hands, turning to look at Billy.

“We could kick around here. I gotta drive Max home later so we should probably stick around.” Steve grinned at him.

“Well, c’mon then. You’ve got plenty to see around here.”

Billy felt like Steve has already dragged through the entire grounds, he doesn’t know how there’s more to see.

But it turned out there’s a lot more. Because Steve’s place, as it turns out, is one in a huge crowd of trailers.

It was kinda out of Billy’s wildest imagination. Like what he’d picture an old-school traveling circus to be like.

People were milling around everywhere, Steve saying hi to almost everyone they passed. Animals were being led to and from the large arena and the makeshift paddocks that were set up in the open grass.

It was like nowhere Billy’s ever been before.

Steve led him through the maze of trailers to a smaller version of an old school Airstream near the back of the lot, still hitched up to the back of a much larger, and very nice-looking, RV.

Stevie Harrington was painted in curling dark green letters on the rounded metal door, a little cow munching on some grass painted below it.

“That your art?”

Steve snorted.

“ God, no. Robin did it for me a few years ago. That’s why it looks good.”

The hinges on the door squealed when he pulled it open and led Billy inside.

It was hot in the airstream, and Steve turned on the solar power to get a small fan moving air through the place, propping open the door and the tiny window above the table.

“Home sweet traveling home.”

“Damn. This ain’t too bad of a setup.”

It really wasn’t. Sure, it was small, but it was perfect for one person. A tiny kitchenette faced the minuscule bathroom. The far sides of the trailer were taken up by a dining area, a table with booth-like seating, and a queen-sized bed taking up the opposite side, a small closet smushed between the bed and the kitchen.

It was immaculately clean, not totally what Billy had expected from Steve. The bed was made, an old-looking, worn-out stuffed horse placed neatly in front of the pillows.

There were pictures pinned up on little string light clothespins on the wall the bed was shoved against, and Steve even had a few posters over the booth seats.

“It’s kinda nice. I saved up for a while to buy it. It’s kind of a lot being trapped in an RV with your parents, let me tell you. I’m still hooked up to theirs, and when we move I ride with them, usually, but at least I’ve got some space to myself.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Plus, I kinda figured, this is about as close as I’ll ever come to living on my own.”

“I really do like it. You’ve made it real nice in here.”

Steve looked back up to him, smiling proudly.

“We don’t have to like, hang out in here. I just thought I’d welcome you in. To like, say, you know, if you’re ever around but don’t wanna hang out doing the same rodeo shit all the time, we could, like, spend some time in here.” Steve’s cheeks were going red.

And Billy was fairly certain he knew where this was going.

So he took the metaphorical bull by the horns, and wrapped his fingers in Steve’s literal belt loops, and pulled him close enough that their lips could touch.

And apparently, Billy was right. Because Steve kissed him back immediately, and fervently, sliding his arms over Billy’s shoulders and pressing into him enough to move Billy back a few steps until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to sit on it.

Steve wasted no time climbing on his lap, kneeling straddling Billy, pressed together as close as possible.

Steve broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily and Billy attached himself to Steve’s neck, leaving wet kisses in his path down the long column of his throat.

“God, fuck. Can we-”

“ Yeah. Yeah, Baby,” Billy was breathless as he replied, getting both hands under Steve’s ass and flipping their position in one fluid motion, getting Steve on his back, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist.

“Get the door.”

Billy pressed a long sucking kiss to Steve’s neck before pulling away, slamming the door closed as Steve drew the blinds on the window above the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit in the ceiling.

“It’s gonna get super fucking hot in here if we fuck.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Steve laughed at Billy, rolling back to lay properly on the bed, taking his stuffed horse and tossing it on the table behind Billy.

“I don’t want her to have to see this.”

“Fine by me.” Billy was back on him in a second, pushing his hands up Steve’s shirt, yanking it off him as fast as possible.

Steve was so fucking gorgeous.

He had a light tan all over his body, with definite paler parts where his shirts usually sit.

And he was fit. His muscles weren’t as bulky as Billy’s, but he was obviously strong.

Billy leaned over him, tasting the salt on his skin as Steve began fumbling with the buttons of Billy’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so roughly one of the shoulder seams groaned, threatening to rip.

Billy took that as his cue to pull away from Steve again, shedding his shirt and kicking off his shoes, helping Steve out of his little short shorts.

He was wearing this excellent pair of boots, deep red with white embroidered stitching covering the boot.

Steve leaned forward, moving to pull off the boots.

“Wait, no. Leave ‘em on.”

Steve looked at him.

“You call me a hick all the fuckin’ time, and now you’re here saying you wanna fuck me in my boots.”

“It’s hot. You’re like the chick from Footloose .”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Hot is hot, Steve.”

Steve huffed a laugh, putting his leg back down, letting Billy settle between both of them.

“So, are we gonna talk about the girl in an eighties movie, or are you going to fuck me through this mattress?”

“Alright, bossy. You got lube?”

Steve huffed, poking Billy’s chest until he moved off him.

Steve sat up, crawling to the end of the bed, digging through the laundry in the hamper for the bottle of lube.

Billy stared at him.

Mostly, he was just staring at his asshole. It was so perfect and pink, and looked buttery and soft.

And Jesus, he really just wanted to lick it, to get his face buried between Steve’s cheeks and go to town on the pretty pink furl of muscle.

And, well, what’s stopping him?

Absolutely nothing.

He got up, following Steve’s path until he was behind him, taking each cheek in one hand.

Steve froze where he was digging through the laundry, Billy’s breath puffing between his cheeks.

“What are you-”

And then Billy licked up his crack, his tongue dragging all the way up from his balls, flicking once against his hole.

“ Billy .” Steve spread his legs, pushing his hips back into Billy’s face, wordlessly asking for more.

So Billy gave it to him.

He opened his mouth, licking all around his rim, pressing his tongue just slightly inside, sucking on the soft pink flesh, making Steve’s breath hitch and whines pour out of his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Billy responded by pulling back, and spitting on Steve’s hole.

Steve was taken by surprise, if his soft gasp was anything to go by. He dropped his head against the bed, biting onto the blanket.

Billy just kept going, using his lips and tongue and teeth, opening him up and getting him wet.

“Fuck, Billy, please just fuck me. I want you so bad .” Steve’s voice was pitchy and breathy, muffled in the blanket.

He was grinding his hips forward and back, pressing himself against Billy’s tongue.

Like he wanted nothing more than he wanted Billy’s tongue in his ass right then.

And Billy certainly wasn’t complaining, not at how fucking nice and soft his asshole was against his tongue, how he tasted kinda clean and kinda musky at the same time. It was heady and Billy would happily spend the rest of his stupid life with his face buried between Steve’s cheeks.

Something smacked against the top of Billy’s head, and he pulled away briefly to find a bottle of lube on the bed, the one that Steve had no doubt tossed over his shoulder and accidentally accosted Billy with.

“That fuckin’ hit me in the head, you piece a’ shit.”

“I don’t care,” Steve whined, pushing his hips back even further, spreading himself out more and more for Billy to hungrily take in. “Just finger me and fuck me !”

“Bossy.”

Steve huffed, shifting his head around until he could look back at Billy, his brows pinched in a little scowl, giving Billy a dirty look that was equal parts adorable pout and sexy scowl. He looked like the grumpiest little slut.

And Billy indulged him, squeezing out a big glob of lube, meticulously coating his first two fingers with it.

“I know what I like, and I get what I like.”

“Jesus, I thought all them girls were the rodeo queens. Not you .”

“I’m the queen of getting my fucking way. Now for the love of God, put your fingers in me.”

And Billy couldn’t do anything but indulge him.

He began with just one finger, sliding it slowly and deliberately down to the last knuckle.

Steve sighed as Billy’s finger entered him, relaxing his upper body into the bed, somehow canting his hips up even more, his back arched as much as Billy’s ever fuckin’ seen.

So Billy took a chance, pumping his finger in and out a few times, pulling it nearly all the way out, only to replace it with both fingers. He moved slowly, simply fucking Steve with his fingers for a moment, watching Steve as he crooked his fingers downward.

And Steve moaned, and it was like he became a puddle. All his muscles relaxing and unwinding as Billy curled his fingers, pressing deeply against his prostate, rubbing tiny circles into the small bundle of nerves.

“God, Bill. That feels so fucking good,” Steve said through a throaty moan. Billy was slowly moving his fingers in and out of Steve, pressing down into that wonderful spot each time he was buried all the way to the knuckle. “Add another. Please, I want you in me.”

Billy had to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick, flushed red and oh so painful where it was hard against his stomach.

But he did as Steve told him to do, drawing out his two fingers to press in a third.

There was something of a shift in the sticky airstream. As those three thick fingers sank into Steve, it was as though both boys agreed to move faster. Steve began pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, matching the steady pace Billy had set with his hand.

Billy was tugging his fingers in and out, pushing into Steve’s prostate with each movement, the lube creating a squelching noise as they picked up the pace.

And finally, Steve had enough.

He moved his hips forward, sitting back on his heels to look at Billy over his shoulder.

His face was flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown wide, making his already dark eyes seem nearly black. He tossed Billy a condom, and Billy caught it against his heaving chest.

Steve’s breath caught as Billy ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, looking like some kinda fuckin’ animal, rolling it onto himself with a practiced hand.

“Billy, I fucking want you-”

Billy cut him off by pressing himself against Steve’s back, kissing him harshly as he felt him up, his hands roving, touching every bit of Steve he could possibly manage.

Steve had his own mission, reaching awkwardly behind him to take Billy’s stiff cock in hand, fumbling slightly as he lined up the flushed head of his dick with his slicked-up hole, teasing himself before urging Billy to push on in.

Their lips lost touch from one another the second Billy began moving his hips forward, their moans mingling in the space between them.

“God, fuck, Stevie.” Billy could hardly control himself. He so wanted to let loose, start fucking wildly into the tight heat of Steve’s body, take him as hard and fast as possible.

He let his hands drop down and settle on Steve’s hips. He could feel the firm muscles tensing under his hands, like Steve was barely keeping himself from rocking back to fuck himself harder and faster on Billy’s cock.

And that’s what pushed Billy over the edge.

He pushed Steve forward until he was back in position, face down, ass up. His hands gripped Steve’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Jesus, Billy hoped to fucking God Steve had dark marks in the shape of Billy’s fingers for days and days. And he let himself go for it.

Steve was making these breathy, punched-out noises, like with every harsh thrust of Billy’s hips, all the air in his lungs was being forced right out of him.

Billy was slamming them together, pulling Steve’s hips back as he surged his own forward, pulling out almost entirely each time. He was relentless, taking Steve like a goddamn animal right there on the once neat bed.

Neither of them was going to last long, they both knew it.

Billy had taken so much time opening Steve up with his lips and tongue and fingers, Steve wouldn’t even be shocked if he came completely untouched, falling apart with only the attentions Billy has granted to his hole.

Until Billy reached around him with his left hand, still gripping Steve’s body with his right.

He took hold of Steve’s leaking cock, brushing his thumb over the slit to collect some of the glistening precum, drawing his hand tightly down the shaft, moving at an agonizingly slow pace compared to the buck of his hips, keeping Steve on the edge of something, making everything way too much and definitely not enough.

And there was nothing Steve could do.

He felt fucking helpless as Billy pounded him. It was taking all his energy not to just melt into the mattress at this point and let Billy have his way with him.

But Billy was getting close, too close to keep this game up for much longer.

He sped up the movement of his hand, his fist beginning to pump faster and faster over Steve’s aching cock. He wanted him to finish first, wanted to watch as Steve writhed and moaned about.

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute of Billy jerking Steve as quick and rough as he was fucking him, and Steve was spilling out onto the blanket below him, nearly yelling out while his hips convulsed and his fingers twisted until he had a white knuckle grip on the blanket.

Billy could only just hang on, fuck and jerk Steve through it, only letting his grip on his cock go a little slack when Steve finally relaxed a bit below him.

Billy pulled out, snapping off the condom and taking his dick in hand, finishing himself off all over Steve’s lower back, watching his thick cum drip down the slope of his ass.

“ Fuck. You’re so hot,” Billy said, totally in awe. Steve was even hotter than normal wearing nothing but his bright red boots and Billy’s spunk.

Billy took a cloth from the tiny bathroom, getting it a little wet to wipe the cum off of Steve as he lay stretched like a cat on the small bed.

“Thank God I don’t have to ride tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, let alone get in a saddle.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Billy, bending his knees to let his feet kick up behind him, crossing his ankles in the red boots.

“We should make the best of our good fortune, then. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

“Billy Hargrove, you fuckin’ devil .”

#yikes writes #show pony #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #rodeo au

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Since Day One

Pairing— Park Jimin x female reader

Genre— college au, friends to lovers au, smut, FLUFF (this is so soft)

Warnings— oral (fem and male receiving), sex in general but nothing crazy, Jimin being a mushy baby oof my heart melted

Word Count— ~5.1k

Summary— You’re best friends with the sweetest guy on Earth, Park Jimin. Of course, you’d be his girlfriend in a heartbeat if he asked. If only...

Your love life has been fruitless since...well since you were born. There’s been the occasional fling here and there, but you cut it off as soon as you realized they were only after sex and nothing more. You yearn for something meaningful with just about anyone now. If a cute boy is somewhat nice to you for even a second, you catch yourself fantasizing about going on a honeymoon with him. You were lost in your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you back to reality.

“Hello? ___? Is anyone home? Oh wow look at that super cute dog--”

“Where?” you crane your neck to look out the cafe window in hopes of spotting the dog.

“There is no dog. I just needed your attention. What do you think of this layout for the presentation?” Jimin asked.

Park Jimin has been your best friend since day one. Literally. Both your moms were best friends, so it was inevitable that you guys would be besties too. You guys attend the same University now, and even though your majors were different, you managed to get into the same mandatory elective.

“Yeah, that looks fine. Sorry, you know I don’t really care for what old white dudes had to say about, well, literally anything,” you reply.

“Neither do I. But the ancient Greeks had a lot to say about the birth of philosophy so here we are. Also if you can’t pay attention to our project, at least pay attention to me!” Jimin pouted.

Jimin has always been a needy baby, but only when it comes to you for some reason. Jimin has been a heartthrob since elementary school and proceeded to become class president starting in middle school. He won every year in a row (thanks to all the girls voting for him). Even though he won because of his popularity, he was still an extremely hardworking student. He made sure the council’s ideas were all heard and worked his hardest to implement whatever project they wanted that year. You admired-- and albeit were a little jealous-- of how perfect Jimin was. During high school, you realized you might have had a crush on him, but you quickly nipped that in the bud. Having a crush on your best friend? You couldn’t risk your friendship like that, it meant too much to you.

With that said, Jimin had always looked up to you as well. He loved the way you always spoke your mind, a trait that often got you in trouble in school. He loved the way you would apply yourself to something you’re passionate about and was delighted when you announced that you would be going to pursue your passion in art. Luckily for him, you both ended up at the same University. Jimin also loved that he knew the real you. Other people would probably say that you’re “cool” but have a cold demeanor, but he knew better. He knew that you were a huge sappy hopeless romantic, but would never tell anyone that. Anyone other than him of course.

“Yeah yeah okay you big baby. You want me to hold your hand too?” you teased, looking over the presentation one last time.

“Actually, yes I do,” Jimin smiled innocently as he plopped his hand onto the table. You rolled your eyes and took his hand anyway. He always does this. You always chalk it up to Jimin just being an affectionate guy, but what you don’t realize is that he’ll look for any excuse to be with you. He’ll do anything to be yours, but you’re too oblivious to all his tactics. Had you known that he had a crush on you, you would’ve pounced on him on the spot. But for now, you’re more than happy to call him your best friend.

“Well, I just turned it in for us. Congrats, now you have the rest of your weekend free from philosophy hell! Have any plans?” you ask.

“Not yet. But we can make plans! You wanna watch a movie at my place? We can order in and celebrate by being lazy! My roommates are gone for the weekend so we can do whatever we want. You kind of have to say yes because I already got a surprise for you,” Jimin smiled deviously.

“Oh yeah? Guess we do have plans then, I’m in. What’s the surprise?” you cock your head.

“I can’t tell you because it’s a surprise, dummy. Let me go back first to clean up a little, I don’t want you to think I’m living in a pigsty,” Jimin starts packing up his stuff.

“I’ve been over there plenty of times, I already know that you’re living in a pigsty,” you tease. Jimin gives you an overexaggerated shocked face.

“Well, then you should know that all that mess is made by my roommates. Not me. Just appreciate the fact that I care about you enough to clean up for you,” Jimin sasses.

“You care for me? How sweet! I never would have known. I’ll go back to my place and take a quick shower. I’ll text you when I’m heading over,” you shoot him a smile as you turn to walk back to your apartment.

“Sounds good! Actually, call me when you’re ready, and I’ll come pick you up,” Jimin stated.

“What? No, you don’t have to--”

“I insist!”

“I’ve walked to your place countless times. It’s fine I can--”

“I wanna come pick you up!” Jimin whines. You give in. There’s no use in arguing with him when he’s like this.

“Okay fine! See you later, weirdo,” you laugh. You wave and head back to your apartment.

Back at your apartment, you slip into the shower and crank the temperature to the sweet spot between a soothing flow of hot water and scalding your skin. The shower has always been your safe space where your thoughts could float from one cloud to the next without the fear of judgment by anyone. You wonder what Jimin could possibly have brewed up this time. He was never the type to surprise anyone, so you are puzzled as to what spurred up this novel side of Jimin. Even though your thoughts beg you to stay in the shower just a bit longer, you force yourself out and quickly pat down your body.

Although you had long since snipped the feelings you had for Jimin, the small bud still had its roots somewhere deep inside of you. You realize this as your heart sputters erratically with the thought of being surprised by Jimin. Looking in the mirror, you see your face has taken on an unfamiliar glow and excitement. It’s just platonic, you remind yourself, but the flush in your face betrayed what your mind was saying.

With your towel wrapped around you, you scan your closet for something to wear. You remind yourself that it wasn’t that serious because it was Jimin. Your day one. Your supposed “brother” figure. Just one of the guys, you remind yourself. So after a few minutes of deliberation, you decide on a t-shirt and jeans (typical). However, before you walk out the door you slip on the bracelet that Jimin had made you back in elementary school.

It was weathered now, the letters on the beads were losing their colors, but it fits onto your wrist with a familiarity that calmed you. You call Jimin, as he insisted that you should, and when he picks up any nervousness that you had felt in the shower is mellowed by the familiarity of his voice.

“___! You ready for me to come over and pick you up?” Jimin’s voice is sprightly, as if the only thing containing him from bursting was a thin film of cellophane. You smile, wondering why you ever doubted in the first place.

“Yup!” you answer, “But I’m not patient, so hurry up!”

Jimin’s car pulled up to your apartment complex promptly five minutes after you had called him, and you feel your heart do a small jig again as you still haven’t got a single clue as to what surprise he had in store for you. You slip into the passenger seat as you had done countless times before, but this time...this time felt different. Not off, just...different.

The drive to Jimin’s place wasn’t long, but for some reason, the minutes seemed to drag on for what felt like an eternity. As Jimin’s car neared the familiar facade of his apartment complex, you felt the excitement build up in your chest. Jimin parks the car and promptly makes his way to your side before you can even get your seatbelt all the way off.

“I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned for you,” his usual charm is cranked up all the way, and you blush but you try to push that softness into the platonic zone.

“If it isn’t a good surprise, you’re legally obligated to pay for the pizza tonight,” you teased him lightly. Knowing Jimin and his characteristic ways of getting everyone to like him you knew that he wasn’t one to disappoint.

Jimin dramatically wiped invisible tears from his eyes, “You do not have enough faith in me, ___.” He extended his hand expectantly, and although you were caught off guard, you quickly accept his outstretched hand. Just friends, remember? As he helps you out of his car, you feel the blush bloom into what you were horrified was reminiscent of a cherry tomato. You hope your hand wasn’t clammy, but you try to remind yourself that he’s seen the worst of you since you were a child. He can handle some sweaty palms.

After making your way to the door, Jimin steps in front of you with both of his hands up, “Hold on. You have to close your eyes.”

“Jimin,” you roll your eyes, but he made his signature puppy face that had a 100% success rate of making you yield to him. You chuckled breathily, but comply, “Alright, dummy.”

You hear the sound of the rickety wooden door open and try to overcome the urge to peek. To your surprise, Jimin’s hands are on your shoulders, and you can feel his breath on your neck. It sends your heart into another race, and you hope that he doesn’t hear the pounding in your chest. Jimin guides you into his apartment, cautious to not let you bump into anything. Finally, he stops, and his hands leave your shoulders.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now!”

When you do, your eyes are somewhat overwhelmed. His living room is decorated with little fairy lights, and little glow in the dark stars speckled his usually plain white walls. The best part, though, was the tent that was smack dab in the middle of the living room. There were pillows that paved a way towards the humble abode. You hear laughter that sounds like the prettiest of bells, and you realize that it’s coming from you.

“We always wanted to make a hideout with pillows and blankets, but we never really got around to it,” Jimin began to explain, “So I...I just thought you’d like it…”

You pounce onto him with a fierceness that almost sends him backward, “Oh Jimin, I love it so much!” His arms, though initially surprised from your attack, hug you back in a warm, familiar embrace. Without warning, you feel his lips press into the side of your face, and you freeze up for a minute. The tenderness of his kiss makes you melt, and before long you thaw up and don’t even bother to break the embrace.

“___, I have something to tell you,” Jimin whispers, his voice muffled as he snuggles his face into your hair. If your heart was racing before, now it was beating absolutely manically, but you don’t move. Could it be?

You return the affection by snuggling back into him, your heart pounding so hard you’re almost certain he could hear it, “Yes Jiminie?”

“I couldn’t choose between Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. I know you love both so I figured you can choose,” he giggled into your ear. You feel your heart deflate, but were quick to cast the disappointment aside.

“Can we pick a Studio Ghibli movie instead? I feel like that would fit the vibe better,” you hear your voice waver. You hoped Jimin didn’t notice it.

“We can absolutely do that! Great choice. Mmm, you wanna watch Spirited Away? I know that’s your favorite,” Jimin pulls away from you to venture over to his DVD collection.

You nod your head and give him a warm smile. You admonish yourself for getting your hopes up. Jimin is your best friend. He’s also such a sweetheart. Of course he would do this for his best friend. His day one bud.

Jimin puts on the movie and crawled into the tent. He wiggled his butt at you to make you laugh before turning around and gesturing for you to join him.

“Wait! Can you bring some pillows pleaaaase? I thought they’d help tie everything together as a walkway--which they totally did-- but those are all that I have,” Jimin gave you an innocent smile.

You roll your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress your smile as you launched the pillows at him.

“We can have a pillow fight after the movie! Get your ass in here,” Jimin whined.

“Coming! Wait, do you want me to get snacks first?” you ask.

“You really do not have enough faith in me. Everything we’d ever need is already here! Except for the most important thing. You,” Jimin’s lips curled into a soft smile.

“Alright you big mushball, scoot over,” you crawl in beside him. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you the most important thing, but again, you set it aside. He says these kinds of things all the time, and yet everything feels different tonight.

You sat side by side, huddled together under a shared blanket once the movie started. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you ate your pizza topped with popcorn. Jimin thought it was gross, but you always argued that it was the most efficient way to eat during movie nights. As Haku and Chihiro made their way into the bathhouse, Jimin leaned closer to you.

“Done eating?” he whispered.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you respond, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“Can we...cuddle?” Jimin asked shyly.

“Are we not cuddling right now?” you say dryly.

“No I mean like... cuddle cuddle. I’m not really comfortable like this,” Jimin said. You look over to him and see him looking at the floor, his cheeks were barely visible in the dim lighting but you could tell they were flushed.

“Sure Jiminie, we can cuddle. How do you want me?” you ask.

Jimin pauses the movie and repositions the pillows. He lays down sideways with the pillows comfortably propping up his head.

“Come be my little spoon, y/n,” he says reaching out to you.

You smile and wiggle back into the tent to join him. You lay beside him, using his arm as your pillow (Jimin is gonna regret that later but he didn’t have the heart to ask you to move). You get as comfortable as you could in front of him, while still leaving a little gap between you two. As you open your mouth to tell him that you’re ready, Jimin wraps an arm around you to pull you into him. You let out a soft gasp as you feel your back rub up against his chest--which was surprisingly firm.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath tickling your ear.

“Yeah I’m good, can you see?” you’re relieved that he can’t see you, as your face heated up and was most definitely red.

“Yeah, you’re perfect.”

“What?”

“I mean, this is perfect. This uh position is perfect...I’m comfortable. Unless you’re not. Then I’m not. I mean uh--”

“Okay silly, then play the movie,” you chuckle at how cute he was.

Jimin normally never loses his charm, so hearing him stumble over his words was rare. Jimin gave you a tight squeeze after he hit play, and the two of you remained like that for the remainder of the movie.

After the movie finished, you were nearly asleep in Jimin’s arms. Spirited Away always put you at ease, since you had nothing but happy childhood memories associated with it.

“___~” Jimin softly sang in your ear.

“Whaaaaat~” you sang back.

“Thanks for coming over tonight, even though I gave you no choice,” Jimin said, nuzzling your ear.

“Of course, what are best friends for?” you giggle, he knew your ears were ticklish, “You kicking me out now?”

“Not yet. You know how I said I had something to tell you earlier?”

“Yeah, asking me to choose between Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings?”

“Yeah that. That’s actually not really what I wanted to say. I mean I was going to ask you that because I really couldn’t choose but--”

“Just spit it out, Jimin,” you turn around to face him, his face just a few inches from yours. Jimin sighed and leaned closer to you, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’vebeeninlovewithyouforsolongIcan’thideitanymore,” he blurted out in one breath.

You were shocked. You didn’t know how to react. You couldn’t tell if it was relief, surprise, or excitement that flooded your mind. All you knew was that your heart was soaring. You’ve never experienced such happiness from one sentence before. You pondered all of this in silence before you realized that Jimin was looking at you expectantly. After all, he did lay his heart on the line for you.

“Say that again, but slowly. I wanna make sure I heard you properly,” you chuckle.

“Don’t tease me!”

“I’m not! I’m being serious! You became a rapper all of a sudden and I couldn’t fully understand you,” this time it was you giving Jimin puppy dog eyes.

“I said, I’ve been in love with you for so long I can’t hide it anymore. My roommates asked about us the other day, and I told them we were best friends. They all made fun of me, saying that everyone always thought we were a couple. They made me realize that I actually was, and have been, so madly in love with you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. It actually feels amazing to finally get that off my chest,” Jimin shyly looked away.

You cupped his face and responded, “Of course I feel the same way, dummy. All this time I’ve been trying to bury my feelings because I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship. I love you too, Jimin,” you lean in slowly and kissed him tenderly.

You’ve always imagined his lips to be soft and supple. You were 100% correct. You pull away and smile against his mouth before he pulls you back in. This time, the kiss is needier, as if to make up for all the years you guys could’ve been doing this sooner. Jimin rolls on top of you, assuming a dominant position. This time he pulls away.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Our friendship will never be the same,” he locks eyes with yours.

“You’re right. I think our friendship will be even better. As lovers. If you’ll have me,” you rest your arms around his neck.

“Of course, I’ll have you, ___. Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on all these years,” Jimin smirks as your heart beats faster and you rub your thighs together.

He bends over gently to kiss you again, but the sweetness only covers the soft hunger underneath, like a chocolate coated strawberry. Before the kiss can last long he breaks it, and you want to protest but stopped when his lips press into your neck. And then your collar bones. Your breath comes in quick spurts, and every inch of your skin is charged with electricity, like livewire. Jimin seems to hear this because he smirks and nips gently at your earlobe.

His hands gently trace your t-shirt up, and you raise your arms expectantly. He takes your shirt off in one smooth motion, and your eyes meet with his, “Are you doing okay?”

Your voice is breathy, but you manage, “Couldn’t be better.”

He smirks again and leans over you to dot your torso with gentle kisses. Then, his hands are at the waistline of your jeans, and they pause ever so slightly before undoing the button. You silently thank whatever god exists in the sky for choosing today of all days to go for the cute, lacy underwear you had gotten on sale in a lingerie store meant for women who got more action than you.

“Tell me if anything gets uncomfortable, okay?” Jimin looks nervous, and you’ve never seen him lose his composure like this. This novel vulnerability and earnest in his eyes make your chest grow warm with tenderness. You nod fervently, and he laughs into your thighs. The sensation brings warmth between your legs.

His fingers hesitate over the edge of the lacy fabric before he gently tugs your panties down the length of your legs. You can feel the ache, the need for him to lay his hands on you. Jimin kisses the inside of your thighs, murmuring, “I will always love these thighs you always complain about.” His lips linger daintily on your skin, and you try not to squirm or move, as if this moment would evaporate if you made any sudden movements.

Almost instinctively, your hand finds its way to his soft, shiny locks. You have imagined the feeling of his hair running through the space between your fingers, but no imagination could do the real experience justice. He pushes your legs apart, and you almost want to scream in anticipation.

Then his head dips into the aching place between your legs, and you feel yourself gasping in pleasure as his mouth finds its place to where you wanted him most. His tongue slowly glides over your clit, and your back arches, moving your body against his mouth. Your fingers grip his hair as if it is the thread of life, and your breath comes faster and shallower.

He chuckles, and the vibrations of the sound make you ache for him all the more. In your frenzy, you let the words slip from your lips, “More, please.”

His tongue picks up its leisurely pace to a more rhythmic motion, and just when you thought it couldn’t feel better you gasp when you feel his finger push through your entrance. His free hand rested on your torso, a cooling patch to your otherwise hot skin. It was as if you were made only for him, and he was only made for you. The way in which you both moved brought you to a point of madness from the pleasure. As he continued, you felt the pleasure spike, climbing and climbing to its highest point.

But before you could be let off the cliff, Jimin pauses, “What do you want, ___?” His eyes stare at you with its familiar charm because knowing he was the cause of your pleasure brought back the confidence you were used to.

“I want you,” you practically whimper between pants.

He smiles mischievously, and his head and fingers return where they were, working you quickly back up to the peak. This time though, he continues his motions pushing you closer to the edge, until finally, finally you are given your release. Your release courses through your body like a storm, your body almost convulsing with pleasure. His hair is now a rat’s nest from your fingers, and he smiles into your legs continuing. He doesn’t release you until you practically scream from the stimulation, causing waves of pleasure.

Finally, he lets you go from his mouth, and his lips make a pathway up from your crotch all the way back up to your lips. You taste yourself on his lips, and you want to drown in him as his kisses grow hungrier. You finally break the kiss, and look up at him with a boldness that you had never felt before, “I suppose it’s your turn now?”

Jimin’s eyes lit up, “Only if you’re feeling generous.”

Without another word, you took Jimin by surprise as you shifted your weight to flip yourself on top of him. You pause before straddling his waist.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I’m completely naked and you’re not,” you say as you begin to tug at the end of his shirt.

“That can be fixed,” Jimin smiles as he removed his shirt to reveal his abs. You caught your breath. You knew Jimin was fit, but you never realized he looked this good.

You begin to unbutton his pants and attempted to strip them off. They were a lot tighter than you anticipated so you were struggling. Jimin couldn’t help but laugh at how determined you were as you began to aggressively tug at his legs. You tried to give him a sad pouty face, but couldn’t resist in joining his laughter. There you both were. Sitting in a tent in the middle of Jimin’s apartment. One of you completely naked, while the other was getting there with a bit of conflict. And you guys were laughing your asses off. The atmosphere didn’t feel sexy or seductive at all. Instead, you two were completely comfortable and were vibing off of that contentment.

Jimin finally helped you take his pants off, but left his underwear on. You never really understood the expression “pitched tent” in this context until now. Jimin’s raging boner stood high against the restraints of his underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at it for a second before palming it gingerly. As soon as you touched it, Jimin shuddered and let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I’ve just been dreaming about this for a while now. Hope that’s not weird…” Jimin blushes.

“Let’s see if I live up to your expectations,” you look up at him with a wily smile.

You tug at his waistband down, allowing his erection to spring free. You were impressed and a little intimidated at its sheer size. Not wanting to disappoint, you started stroking him slowly from the base all the way to the tip. You watched his face contort with pure bliss as you applied more pressure and used a faster pace.

You couldn’t hold in your lust any further. You teasingly licked the tip of his cock. Jimin whimpered in response. This peaked your intrigue, you never thought you’d hear Jimin like this. Yeah, he could be whiny on a daily basis, but you wouldn’t have imagined it in the bedroom.

With the head of his cock in your mouth, you start to swirl your tongue around it. Jimin starts to whine louder and his hands entangle themselves in your hair. Deciding not to tease him any longer, you experiment to see how much of him you can take. You can’t even get to the base of his dick without gagging. As you bob your head rhythmically up and down, you hand glides over what you can’t fit in your mouth. This seems to be working beautifully for Jimin, as his grip on your hair became more firm and his whines turned into drawn out moans.

“Oh god, ___. You’re better than anything I could’ve ever dreamt of,” Jimin groaned as he pulled you off of him, “If you keep going like that, I’m gonna blow my load way too soon. I still wanna dick you down tonight. If you want to, of course.”

“I would love nothing more. Do you have a condom? I’m not on any birth control,” you say.

“When I said this tent has everything we’d ever need, I wasn’t kidding,” Jimin beamed as he pulled out a condom from under the pizza box.

“What would you have said if I moved the pizza box for some reason?” you asked, giggling.

“I dunno. I just prayed that you wouldn’t. Either way,” Jimin pushed you back beneath him, “I’m glad I put it there. May I have the honors?”

“Go for it dude,” you stick your tongue at him. You loved the way that everything felt so natural with him.

Jimin slips on the condom before aligning himself with your entrance. He leans over to kiss you as he slides in slowly. The stretch caused you to moan into his mouth. Once he bottomed out, he slipped his hands into yours. Gazing into your eyes, he started to buck his hips into yours faster. You started to moan and closed your eyes to fully enjoy the pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me, ___,” you hear Jimin say, “I want all of your attention on me.”

You open your eyes and smile up at Jimin. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. Jimin plants kisses along your neck. Your moans become more haggard as you feel a familiar knot coil within you.

“Ji-Jimin I’m close,” you pant.

“Me too, ___,” Jimin responds, his eyebrows furrowed, “Let’s finish together. Can you do that with me, ___?”

You didn’t get the chance to answer. You let out a loud cry as your high overcame you. Feeling your pussy tighten over his cock, Jimin drilled into you even faster. It wasn’t long before Jimin all met his sweet release. With one final thrust, Jimin groaned as came inside of you.

You were both spent. Jimin collapsed beside you, pulling off the condom to inspect it.

“Nice, no breakage!” Jimin cheered as he tied it up. Jimin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a big hug.

“Jimin, I’m all sweaty,” you say, trying to wiggle free from his grasp.

“Oh yeah? Well so am I! I’ve been covered in worse than your sweat now anyway,” Jimin nuzzles into your neck.

“Gross! But also true,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Jimin, you know we can never go back to what we were before, right?”

“Yeah, I know. And why would I want to? We both admitted that we love each other, I don’t see a problem. I love you, ___. I always have. And I’m pretty sure I always will,” Jimin whispers into your neck.

“Same goes for me. I’ve been head over heels for you ever since high school,” you kiss his forehead.

“I’ll do you one better. I’ve been in love with you ever since day one,” Jimin plants a final kiss before you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

#bts smut #jimin smut #jimin fluff #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bts fluff #bts fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #bayanihanboost #ksmutclub

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swanlake1998 · 3 years

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Article: Moving Over: A Powerhouse of Black Dance Is Retiring (Mostly)

Date: September 2, 2021

By: Charmaine Patricia Warren

Joan Myers Brown, the founder of Philadanco, is stepping back if not quite away from her duties. She still goes to the office every day.

Rushing to our Zoom interview from an in-person audition at the Philadanco studios, Joan Myers Brown opened the conversation by making me laugh. She asked for a reminder of what we were doing and then said, “What an honor, you want to talk about me — only thing I usually talk about is Philadanco.”

Myers Brown is the keeper of all things Black dance, and Philadanco (or, the Philadelphia Dance Company) is the troupe she founded in 1970. Now, after more than 50 years, she’s “moving over,” as she calls it, stepping back but not quite stepping away from the daily work of running the company.

At 89 (she turns 90 on Christmas Day), she is full of energy, and her memory is impeccable. Given the floor, she will share her love of dance, especially Black dance, for which she has been a champion and an institution builder.

True to her Philadelphia roots, in 1960 she founded the Philadelphia School of Dance Arts, for African American children; then Philadanco in 1970; in 1988, the International Conference of Black Dance Companies; and then in 1991, the International Association of Blacks in Dance (I.A.B.D.), which supports the Black dance community through gatherings, presentations, education and career guidance.

Of course, none of this existed when Myers Brown started studying ballet at 7 with Essie Marie Dorsey, whose school catered to Black children. (Dorsey, who passed for Spanish, had studied ballet with whites.) At 17, in the segregated 1940s, Myers Brown got the bug to become a ballerina from a white teacher, Virginia Lingenfelder, and was the first and only Black student in Lingenfelder’s ballet club.

Later, she studied at the Ballet Guild, where she was again the only Black student, and was spotted there by the British choreographer Antony Tudor, who invited her to take his class. “He was coming from England, so he didn’t have that American prejudice stuff,” Myers Brown said. “He taught me like I was the same as the others and not like an intruder.”

She never became a professional ballerina. “Other than Janet Collins, Blacks were not hired at that time,” she said, referring to the first African American prima ballerina with the Metropolitan Opera. But because of Tudor, Myers Brown performed in a community production of Michel Fokine’s “Les Sylphides” with the Ballet Guild and the Philadelphia Orchestra. At 19, Tudor encouraged her to move to New York; instead, she commuted to study with the dancer and anthropologist Katherine Dunham. “I would’ve been afraid to go to New York and live alone,” Myers Brown said.

She became a successful revue dancer and seized every opportunity to take class on her travels. “I read every book on ballet and dance, and then I chose to teach because I didn’t get the opportunities I wanted,” she said. “That’s when I started my school and tried to teach what I remembered.”

The Black dance community reveres her, and the world has been noticing. She was the subject of a 2011 book, “Joan Myers Brown and the Audacious Hope of the Black Ballerina,” by Brenda Dixon Gottschild. And in 2012, President Obama presented her with the National Medal of the Arts.

I met Myers Brown, or Aunt Joan as she is known to those close to her, when we were both instructors at Howard University in the early 1990s. Like me, those who’ve walked alongside her know that she is a powerful force, a leader who has set the tone for Black dance organizations to follow. And though Myers Brown is stepping back from her role at Philadanco, make no mistake: She still goes to the office, and is very involved.

When talking to Myers Brown, you bring your best because her presence demands it. She is always dressed to the nines, but her elegance is balanced by her lack of pretension and her quick, sometimes sharp, tongue.

“You didn’t ask me any questions,” she said near the end of our talk. I did, but they flowed organically because Aunt Joan made it so easy.

Below are edited excerpts from our conversation.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: So, what made you decide it was time to step away?

Joan Myers Brown: Guess, just guess! I’ll be 90 years old. I have four dance companies, two dance schools and six grandkids. I’ve been working 15-hour days for 50 years, plus my school will be 60. I’ve given enough of my life to this, but I don’t own it.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: What do you mean you don’t own it?

Joan Myers Brown: Founder’s syndrome. After a while, the founder don’t mean anything because the company and organization have outgrown them.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: How are you feeling about moving over, as you call it?

Joan Myers Brown: I’ve settled on moving over, and I appointed Kim Bears-Bailey as artistic director. Now I have to let her know it’s OK to do what she thinks and let her make mistakes. But I need a managing director, someone who is committed to moving something other than their own aesthetic forward.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Kim was first at Philadanco, in 1981, as a dancer. Did she make an impression on you back then?

Joan Myers Brown: She did. She was one of those girls that I don’t think ballet companies would have liked. You know how they do us when we are Black and we just don’t look the part. She wanted it, and was willing to put forth the work, and I said, “Why don’t you audition for Ailey?” She said, “Everything I need is here.”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Was there a search for an artistic director?

Joan Myers Brown: Not artistic, managing. I’ve had three white girls come into my organization with all the qualifications, but there was a sensitivity chip about Blackness missing. They have to think differently about how they treat Black people and know what we need. When I was looking for a development director, I hired a company of three ladies.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Are they Black?

Joan Myers Brown: No. White. I had to school them.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Does Kim run the school also?

Joan Myers Brown: Well, the school is not part of the company. The first 10 years the company was housed in the school, but when we purchased the building, we reversed the roles. The school pays rent to the company. I kept the school for profit so I would be guaranteed an income as a single parent.

You know, the String Theory School wants to build a new location, a charter school, and call it the Joan Myers Brown School of the Arts.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Wait, they’re naming a school after you?

Joan Myers Brown: Yes, and they want me to develop a curriculum, so I put Ali [Willingham, artistic director of Danco3] there because he teaches the way I like people to teach — know the craft, break down the movement, demand growth and not show off. Our youth are caught up in getting the applause and not learning the craft, so when I find the ones that really want to learn, they have someplace for classes and performing opportunities.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: The Black Lives Matter movement isn’t new to you, is it?

Joan Myers Brown: I experienced that in 1962, 1988 and 1995. Every time white folks in charge throw money out there and say, “Y’all got to help Black people,” they help us, but when the money’s gone, they’re gone. Have you noticed how every ad in Dance Magazine has a Black person? It’s like they are saying, “Look, I got one!”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Did you envision I.A.B.D. conferences as a home base for the Black dance community?

Joan Myers Brown: You know, the first few conferences we were a mess, but we were happy to be together. Cleo [Parker Robinson] is from Denver; Jeraldyne [Blunden] was Dayton; Lula [Washington], Los Angeles; and Ann [Williams], from Dallas. And each time we learned something about our own organizations, about others doing the same thing, and how we can help each other. Mikki Shepard pulled us together, and people said we set the plate for DanceUSA. I was on the board of DanceUSA then. I said, “I got to get away from here and start my own thing because this ain’t helping Black people at all.”

The younger members want to ignore the things we learned, and their opinions are valid, but I say experience teaches you something. I.A.B.D. was a gathering to bring us together and share stuff, now it’s a full-fledged service organization.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Do you miss the early gatherings?

Joan Myers Brown: It wasn’t like, “Girl, you got to come,” but more like, “let’s be together.” And when Jeraldyne died, we were a mess. Debbie [Blunden-Diggs] is stepping up to the plate now.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: The Philadanco family is huge, isn’t it?

Joan Myers Brown: We have a saying: You “gon” — without the “e” — but you’ll be back. A girl from my summer program told her mom, “I want to go back to Philadelphia because they give the training I need.” And her mother said, “I used to be in Philadanco 25 years ago, I’m going back with you.” She moved back, and I put her in charge of my minis.

I’ll give you another example: My first company was football players. I had no big boys in the school, saw them playing at my old high school and asked them to be in a show. They were more interested in the girls at first and refused to wear tights. I couldn’t pay them, but the Negro Trade Union Leadership Council was paying Black boys to learn trades. I told them to go in the morning, learn the trade, get that check, and then come for class at night, and they caught the bug. One of the boys owns a company and does my renovations now.

Everybody can’t teach or choreograph; I encourage all of my dancers to have a second career so that when you stop dancing you can do something else.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: What do you wish for?

Joan Myers Brown: Well, I’m wishing that people would understand that I need to shore up this organization. So, if I drop dead, the organization won’t be saying, “Aunt Joan ain’t here, what are we going to do?” I want them to say, “Do this, and take care of that.”

Charmaine Patricia Warren: You always have a Plan B, so what is it?

Joan Myers Brown: I like living alone. I like being single. I had three husbands, I’m fine. My Plan B is to do nothing, but I realized that people pay me to talk so I might do some more of that.

Charmaine Patricia Warren: Did I forget anything?

Joan Myers Brown: No. Well, yes, I do what I do because it needs to be done. And I believe in helping people that need help, and if they don’t pay back, it’s OK. The last thing I can say is that being Black in America is being Black in America, and it ain’t easy.

#joan myers brown #article #the ny times #ballet

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kidslovecudi · 3 years

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Man On The Moon III: The Chosen - Album Review By “kidslovecudi“

Before I say anything about this album, let me say that I am so excited that Cudi is finally releasing new music! Speaking for all Cudi fans, we have all been waiting for new solo material from the moon man for the longest time and the few teasers he’s been releasing over the last year, with “Leader Of The Delinquents” and his collaborations with Travis Scott, (“The Scotts”) and Eminem (“The Adventures of Moon Man & Slim Shady”) have not been enough to fully satisfy us. With Man on The Moon III: The Chosen, Cudi fulfills on a promise to his fans he made years ago and gives us quite a lot to digest. However despite how fulfilling this record is, Cudi still manages to leave you on the edge of your seat wanting more and I personally can’t wait to see what he’s going to do next!

1. Beautiful Trip (Intro)

Produced by Kid Cudi, FINNEAS, Plain Pat, Emile Haynie & Dot Da Genius

And it starts...

2. Tequila Shots ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Kid Cudi, Dot Da Genius & Take a Daytrip

On this first track Cudi brings us back into the dark world of the moon man but this time with a new outlook. Referencing his previous works, Cudi aims to prove that he’s “not just some sad dude” and feels that despite his mental well being still occasionally being unstable he’s ready for whatever he has to face. What I loved most about this record was Cudi’s consistency. Throughout the years Cudi has mastered the art of having his own unique galactic sound that transcends through all of his music, despite the genre, and that sound is very present here. Along with his classic hums and hypnotic melodies, this track, known as the fan favorite, has the potential to be a classic.

3. Another Day ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius, Nosaj Thing & Take a Daytrip

When I first heard this song, I absolutely lost my shit. Cudi started this album off swinging and I was not prepared for him to go so hard. I’ve had this song on repeat quite a few times since I first heard it and along with the beat being absolutely sick, Cudi is rapping his ass off! My favorite part is when the beat breaks down in the second chorus, and I get hype as fuck every single time.

4. She Knows This ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by J Gramm, FnZ & Dot Da Genius

This song on first listen reminded me of a song by another of my favorite artists, called “The Let Out” by Jidenna but Cudi took it to a whole other level and isn’t as repetitive. Once the track speeds up Cudi goes even harder with even trippier sounds that will make you feel like you’re driving through space. One of my favorite things about this album is that a lot of the songs change in the middle keeping you that much more engaged in the whole song than to quickly digest it, like a lot of records on mainstream radio. On top of that his bars are on complete fire and it’s always great to see Cudi flex his rapping skill that a lot of people don’t give him credit for.

5. Dive ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius, Anthony Kilhoffer, Aaron Bow & Teddy Walton

Dive ends the first act of the album and serves as Cudi’s goodbye to his fantasy high. The guitar riffs at the beginning of the song is my favorite part and I wish they were made a bigger part of the song. However this song is classic Cudi, I initially thought it was missing something but after listening to it on it’s own a few more times, I feel like this song is absolutely perfect. It’s groovy as fuck and I think because it kind of ends so abruptly that it leaves a lot to be desired, but that also might have been Cudi’s intent, allowing it to serve as interlude of sorts. I loved the transitional elements through out the song, like when the bass comes in, his adlibs throughout the song and especially the echoing adlibs like, “MOVE, MOVE” “towards the end. It takes a few really good listens to fully enjoy the song as a whole, like it did for me but the more I played the album the more and more I fell in love with it.

6. Damaged ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by MIKE DEAN, Dot Da Genius & Take a Daytrip

I loved the words to this song and the overall message that Cudi was trying to convey throughout the song, but the song itself didn’t do a whole lot for me until I actually found myself in a similar dark place. It’s one of those classic Cudi records that really makes you sit and reflect on your life and everything you’ve gone through, which was exactly what the song did for me. This song is where the album starts to slow down a bit and Cudi sings and raps about his trials and tribulations of being a damaged man and that sometimes his demons still come back and he has to deal with them. A common struggle most of us who’ve ever dealt with feelings of anxiety and depression all know too well.

7. Heaven on Earth⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius, Anthony Kilhoffer & DST The Danger

This song really didn’t do a whole lot for me but what I loved the most about it again, were it’s adlibs. Cudi really showed out with the adlibs on this album and that’s what made this song enjoyable for me. The song for me just sounded too typical to me but even despite that, it’s still a great track to vibe to, just not something I’d put on my favorites.

8. Show Out (feat. Skepta & Pop Smoke) ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius, Anthony Kilhoffer & DST The Danger

Easily one of my favorite tracks on the album, when I first heard this, I completely lost my my shit and it was almost impossible not to turn my entire bedroom upside down. For one beat is absolutely sick and picks the tempo right back up. Cudi, Skepta and Pop Smoke’s voices are infectious together and everyone shines on this song without any one of them over shadowing the other’s performance. Definite a track to rage the fuck out to.

9. Mr. Solo Dolo III ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Kid Cudi, Audio Anthem, Dot Da Genius & Plain Pat

This song is trippy as fuck. From beginning to end this song takes you on an absolutely journey from the chords and the keys and there are no words to describe it. I remember playing this song while I was driving home from work on my scooter at night and man oh man, the vibes this song had was incredible. It made me feel like I was traveling to another galaxy. As a loner, this song really spoke to me and it made me feel like someone else understood exactly how I felt. My favorite part was his scream after the second verse. It made me feel free and liberated and that my feelings in that moment had been validated.

10. Sad People ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius & Take a Daytrip

This song is an absolute vibe. Cudi’s in his bag, back in his zone, as he said and my favorite thing about this song is the chorus. Cudi’s harmonies are absolutely incredible and my favorite part is towards the end of the chorus when the song takes on an eerie west coast like synth and it’s absolutely infectious.It’s like a dark B side to “Cudi Zone” from the first album which is one of my favorite songs by Cudi to this day. It’s songs like this that made Cudi the legendary moon man that he his, in the first place.

11. Elsie’s Baby Boy (flashback) ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by E*Vax, Kid Cudi, Heavy Mellow & Dot Da Genius

This song sounded like a leftover track from “Speedin’ Bullet To Heaven” and despite how much negative criticism that album got, I absolutely love when Cudi dives into his alternative roots and I really hope he decides to dive deeper into it even further at some point. In this song Cudi sings about his relationship with his mother Elsie and his childhood upbringings. By this it in turn gave me flashbacks to my relationship with my grandmother and my childhood memories which all brought back happy and sad moments for me.

12. Sept. 16 ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Emile Haynie, FINNEAS, Plain Pat & Dot Da Genius

What I loved the most about this record was Cudi’s vulnerability. Cudi has a few rare moments on his albums where he actually sings about love and being in love and it’s always great to hear. Cudi’s such a hopeless romantic and I love when he let’s his guard down and expresses his feelings. This song takes me back to “Kitchen” on “Passion, Pain, & Demon Slayin’“ and though I love that song more, this song was definitely cooked in the same pot.

13. The Void ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by Dot Da Genius, Kid Cudi & MIKE DEAN

The most uplifting song from the album, this song takes me back to some of the vibes from the first album, like his song “Up, Up, and Away”. That was one of the songs in my high school days that made me fully accept myself for who I was, regardless of what people said and this song is just as motivating and uplifting. On the same wave of “Reborn”, Cudi sings about avoiding all negativity on this record and only focusing on the positive. I almost cried towards the end when he thanked us, his fans, for staying with him and never leaving him. It’s a very beautiful song, but I just personally feel like this song should have been the one to end the album or close to end because to me this track is a hard one to follow behind.

14. Lovin’ Me (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by William J. Sullivan, Charlie Handsome, Rami Beatz & Dot Da Genius

It took a little while for this song to set in for me but after it did, it made me want to cry. If you ever struggled with self-love or self-acceptance then this song is for you. What I loved most about this song was the message because it really hit home for me. It’s a beautiful anthem about finding happiness within yourself that I feel a lot of people will relate to.

15. The Pale Moonlight ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Produced by E*Vax, Rami Beatz & Dot Da Genius

Wasn’t feeling this one all too much, but what I loved about it most again, were the adlibs. I loved Cudi’s multiple layering of his vocals throughout the song, especially the “la-la-la-la” parts. The sounds very remiscent to some of Cudi’s earlier music and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear this was a leftover track from “The End Of Day”.

16. Rockstar Knights (feat. Trippie Redd) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Produced by Jenius, WondaGurl, MIKE DEAN, Dot Da Genius & Take a Daytrip

I’m not a big fan of Trippie Redd but I really fuck with his contributions on this song. This is another song where I really loved the chorus and I also love Cudi’s flow once his verse comes in. Cudi’s wordplay is out of this world on this record and it’s hard not to beat your head as Cudi delivers bar for bar for bar throughout his entire verse. Cudi really shines on this record with his skills as a MC and if Cudi ever felt he had anything to prove as a rapper, he definitely did that here. As the song ends it feels like Cudi just turned the spaceship on hyperdrive and took us along for the ride as he drifted further and further into space- Totally sick.

17. 4 da Kidz ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Produced by WondaGurl, MIKE DEAN, Dot Da Genius, 18YOMAN & Take a Daytrip

A song dedicated to the “kidz” reminding us that we are not alone and this song is another song to vibe out to. With instructions from Cudi, to turn it loud if we need to, this song, on the same frequency as “love.” is another song where Cudi is speaking to us as our big brother and giving us a well needed pep talk. What I loved most about it was Cudi’s vocals on the chorus, especially the way he pronounced the “oo” vowel sounds. It was very reminiscent of a Baltimore accent which I always found comical in the best way which is one of things I love the most about Cudi. He’s not afraid to try different things or pull different things from his various influences despite the genre and on this record, he ties them up beautifully.

18. Lord I Know ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Produced by MIKE DEAN, Dot Da Genius, 18YOMAN & Take a Daytrip

Serving as the closer to the album and the man on the moon trilogy, this song is a classic Cudi hym that tells us that we’re not alone regardless of what we face in life. What I liked most about this song was the message, and that’s why I rate it so highly. In this song Cudi expresses being content with the path he’s on at life and after everything he’s gone through, it makes me happy to finally hear that he’s found peace within himself. The song/album ends with his daughter Vada saying, “To be continued” and I can’t wait to see what Cudi has in store for us next. I just have a strong feeling that all of us Cudi fans are about to eat REAL GOOD.

There’s been a lot said about this album, good and bad but I feel this album is merely a taste of what’s to come. Is this record my favorite? No, but what I can say is that it’s an ALBUM, meaning it’s not a group of songs that you can easily separate like many others. This is the kind of album where you have to play the whole thing all the way through time in and time again to really get what Cudi was trying to convey. It’s not a record that you can just play a few times and be done with, no, it’s a grower. There were a lot of songs on this record that I did not like at first, but after having some time to let them marinate, they became some of my favorites and it made me truly appreciate Kid Cudi as an artist because people don’t make albums like this anymore. There’s rare artists that are this detailed with the way the songs transitions, the interludes, and how copacetic the album is in it’s entirety. This album was truly a gift and I can’t wait to see what else Cudi has left up his sleeve.

Top Favorite Songs

Another Day

Dive

Tequila Shots

Rockstar Knights

The Void

Mr. Solo Dolo III

Listen For Yourself Here!

#kid cudi #man on the moon 3 #man on the moon iii #motm3 #album review #2020 #motmiii

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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An Art of Balance #27

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Greatest thanks to @carewyncromwell for being the best beta reader ever and knowing my characters better than I do! <3 Also, please don't be mad with me, okay? *ducks from angry Charlie fans*

Word Count: ~ 3.100

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Chapter 26: Skewed Perceptions

To distract herself from her mind crushing thoughts, Lizzie wandered the sunny grounds for some time. She had no particular destination in mind but it was still too early to meet Charlie at the Reserve and the thought of returning to the castle made her feel positively sick. All that was waiting for her there were Rowan, the nasty rumours and the judging stares of her peers. The thought alone had her throat tightening; out here, under the open sky, she at least felt like she could breathe more freely.

The fresh air and sunshine helped restore her physical energy, but Lizzie didn’t feel better at all. She had no eye for the budding flowers lining the pathways or the blinking of the sun on the surface of the Black Lake. All she could focus on was keeping the broken pieces of her heart together. Orion had looked so resigned when she had informed him of her decision, and even though he had been quick to keep himself in check, the flash of disappointment shining in his eyes hadn’t been lost on her.

Every time she thought of him, the longing for his company grew almost unbearable. The realisation of what she had thrown away before it could even have a chance to begin threatened to suffocate her.

Lizzie was blinking back the tears that just didn’t want to stop welling up in her eyes, but she refused to cry any more of them. She had brought this upon herself after all and had done the right thing in the end. Maybe the pain tearing at her insides was the just punishment for all the lies she had told to the ones she supposedly held so dear.

After some more aimless wandering, Lizzie directed her steps towards the Creatures Reserve. She had just passed Hagrid’s hut, when the faint sound of her name had her stop and turn around.

Skye was jogging down the steps that led back to the castle. Apparently, Penny’s Pepper-Up Potion had finally kicked in; Skye was looking a lot fresher than before; her face had a healthy colour from running and her movements were full of her typical vigour, a stark contrast to Lizzie’s sorry state. But she highly doubted any potion in the world would have helped her feel better anyway.

“Jameson,” she shouted again as soon as she was within earshot. She quickly caught up with Lizzie, her breath not even unsteady. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well, now you found me,” Lizzie answered wryly, not really in the mood for a conversation. She hadn’t seen Skye since that morning, when she had shut a door in her face to keep her from prying.

Skye put her hands to her hips and looked her up and down. “We need to have a word.”

Lizzie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Seems like I’m doing nothing but talking today.”

“You’re going to tell me what the hell’s going on right now,” Skye huffed, bluntly ignoring Lizzie’s sarcasm. “Rowan and Penny are acting all weird and I heard that moron Everett talking shit about you in the Common Room.”

Her green eyes flashed angrily. “Gave him a bloody piece of my mind. He’s been badmouthing you all over the school, it seems.”

Relief washed over Lizzie at hearing Skye’s words. Of course, having a teammate spreading stories about her was awful, but at least it hadn’t been Rowan’s work after all. Lizzie felt yet another pang of guilt at having suspected her in the first place.

“What did he say?” she sighed. She did have a good guess, but wanted to hear it from Skye herself.

“He said you’ve been messing with Weasley and the captain at the same time.” She snorted in disgust as she continued. “Called you a few very nasty things as well, but I’m pretty sure he won’t repeat those anymore.”

Lizzie rubbed her temples; the pain hammering behind them was starting to come back at her words, spreading down into her jaw and neck. “Do I even want to know what you did?”

Skye’s expression didn’t even flinch. “Probably not; so please tell me risking eternal detention was justified and he’s deranged and made everything up.”

Lizzie felt like she was being caught in a continuous loop when she replied with a vague “Well, kind of.”

Skye’s eyes went wide and her face quickly changed colour. ”What do you mean, kind of?!” she gasped incredulously and gripped Lizzie’s shoulders. Her headache was intensifying quickly as Skye started shaking her.

“Relax; not like you think,” she hurriedly replied to calm Skye’s panic. “There’s nothing going on between Charlie and me. No meddling outside of the team, don’t worry,” she couldn’t help but add sardonically.

Skye was silent for a moment as she let the information sink in. Her eyes narrowed. “So that was Orion’s coat this morning?”

Lizzie bit her lip and as she wound herself out of Skye’s grasp. “Do you really need an answer?”

But Skye wasn’t having any of it and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You bet.”

With a sigh, Lizzie started recounting what had happened after she had left her and Penny at the party yesterday for the second time. With how often the scenes had played in her mind, it felt like close to the hundredth time, though.

Skye’s jaw dropped at the same rate that Lizzie grew more miserable. It felt like poking into an open wound that had just stopped bleeding again and again.

When Lizzie reached the point where Rowan had caught her and Orion kissing – the thought alone sent her emotions into overdrive again and had her cheeks blush dark red even now – the sympathy on Skye’s face quickly turned to worry, flowing seamlessly into something resembling a mild panic. It was only then, when she felt the tears trickling down her face, that Lizzie realised she was crying again.

She wiped at her eyes angrily but it was no use; the tears were spilling down her cheeks and she couldn’t help the sobs shaking her body.

Lizzie didn’t recall having cried in front of Skye ever before; up until when Skye had opened up to her about her father, they had never gotten so personal before. They would have rather cheered each other up straight away, than ride out their breakdowns together. It felt like crossing an invisible line; neither of them was used to comforting the other through some serious heartache.

“Blimey, Liz…” Her tone was unnaturally uncertain. She laid her hand on Lizzie’s back in an awkward motion and started patting it clumsily.

Lizzie had cried so much already, she was honestly sick of it; Skye’s crude attempts at cheering her up made her smile despite herself. She straightened her shoulders and wiped her eyes; Skye was visibly relieved to see her regain her composure.

“I’m alright, don’t worry. Thank you for standing up for me to Everett, in any case.”

Skye grinned and elbowed her into her side. “We’re mates after all, I’ll always have your back.”

Her smile faded a little as she continued cautiously. “So, what’s the deal with you and the captain now? It’ll rattle the team like hell, you know.”

“No, it won’t, whatever happened between him and me isn’t going anywhere; I had to promise Rowan.”

“Oh,” was all Skye managed as a reply, the wind taken out of her speech on team ethics before she had even begun. She was clearly looking for the right words to say but didn’t find any.

“Perhaps it’s better for all of us that way,” she finally said.

When Lizzie raised her eyebrows doubtingly, she quickly clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really, truly sorry for you guys, but I told you there’s a reason the Pro League wants their players to stay on friendly terms. Getting involved messes with the head.”

Another grin formed on her face, looking maybe a bit too jaunty, but Lizzie knew she was doing her best to cheer her up.

“Look on the bright side, Jameson; now that that’s out of the way, we all can completely focus on smashing Gryffindor and finally get our hands on that bloody Cup. You’ll see, no feelings, no distractions.”

Lizzie’s head was still spinning from Skye’s words as she finally made her way to the Creatures Reserve. Usually, she would have dismissed Skye’s attitude with an eyeroll or a snarky comment, but she couldn’t help the thought that perhaps this time Skye was right.

It was not like her situation could get any worse, so why not put her focus on something that she could actually control for a change?

She found Charlie right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; he was sitting on the ground surrounded by an assortment of Wiggentrees, several Bowtruckles climbing up and down his back, shoulders and outstretched arms.

When he saw her approach, he gently placed them back onto their branches and got up with a warm smile.

“Hey Shortcake, how did it go?”

Her mind was still preoccupied with processing everything that had gone down since she had last seen him, so Lizzie didn’t immediately catch on with Charlie’s meaning. “What?”

“You said you wanted to get to the root of the talking, remember?”

“Oh yeah, right,” she mumbled absentmindedly. She had totally forgotten about what had made her seek out Rowan in the first place. “According to Skye, it was Everett, our moron of a Beater.”

Confused, Charlie tilted his head. “Why would he do that?”

Lizzie could only shrug; to be perfectly honest, she was past caring at this point. “He’s jealous, I guess; he couldn’t land with me when tried, so that’s probably his comeback now.”

“But why tell you’re with me?”

“Because it’s the best way to get back at me and Orion at the same time,” she sighed. “He can’t stand the fact that I prefer someone else to him.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “As if he had ever been an option.”

“I know he’s your teammate and all but, damn, what a bloody jerk,” Charlie huffed. “He’d better learn to live with his injured pride now that you and Amari are finally going places.”

Much to his surprise, Lizzie’s face fell at his words. “No, we aren’t,” she declared with a defeated voice. “I called things off with him for Rowan,” she explained at Charlie’s astonished expression.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.” His face softened with sympathy at Lizzie’s apparent distress. “How do you feel now? Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzie knew she would start crying again if she had to dissect her feelings one more time, even if she knew Charlie genuinely cared. So she swallowed the lump building in her throat, straightened her shoulders and put on the most light-hearted smile she could muster.

“I’m alright; it was the right thing to do in the end,” she stated with a firm voice.

Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. “Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me, I’m here for you.”

When she shook her head, he offered her a tentative smile. “What are you going to do now? Things are bound to get really weird, aren’t they?”

Lizzie groaned; she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I don’t even know how to look Orion in the face at the moment; just imagine how awkward Quidditch practise is going to be from now on.”

“Well, I can’t complain too much about that tight-knit team of yours getting rattled,” Charlie winked jokingly in an attempt to cheer her up; he couldn’t stand Lizzie looking so miserable. “Maybe that’s exactly the advantage we need against you in the final.”

He knew immediately his joke had been misplaced when he saw the incredulity forming on Lizzie’s face.

“Good to hear at least someone knows how profit from my heartache,” she hissed at him. Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and her whole posture was suddenly tense. Where she had been downcast but still relaxed before, she now radiated an angry, aggressive energy.

“Woah, hold on, it was only a joke.” Charlie raised his hands defensively but Lizzie continued glaring at him.

“It’s not a joke to me!” she exclaimed, her raised voice scaring the Bowtruckles further into their trees in a scurry. Her eyes were flashing furiously; all the frustration and suppressed anger at herself, Rowan and the whole situation was breaking it’s way at Charlie’s expense.

Charlie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s even going on? I thought you said you were alright?”

“I am alright!” she shot back immediately. “The only thing not alright is you being perfectly happy about this shipwreck of a situation.”

Before he could stop himself, a disbelieving laugh escaped his mouth; Lizzie’s accusation was too absurd. “What in Godric’s name are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?”

But Lizzie was working herself into a rage. “Oh, come on Charlie,” she huffed, “both of us know you don’t like Orion and never have. But now you don’t have to worry anymore, nothing is going change any time soon; you’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Stop being so full of yourself, girl; arrogance doesn’t suit you much. This is not true and you know it.”

He had never seen Lizzie so livid before. He regretted having made his joke in the first place, but her aggressive tone was starting to make him angry as well.

“Is it?” she sneered. “That’s exactly the reason why I didn’t tell you anything in the first place. I knew you’d never understand, all you care about is us playing with magical creatures for the rest of our school years. But that’s not how it goes, Charlie; things are changing, people are changing!”

Her words hurt him more than she could possibly know. “All I ever did was support you and set your head straight when you needed it,” he responded through clenched teeth.

“Yes, tell that to yourself,” she snorted dismissively. “I thought you were my friend, but instead of showing a bit of compassion, you have nothing better to do than to make fun of me, while everything actually suits you perfectly!”

He felt his face go red at her accusation. “I can’t believe you’re saying that! As if I’d ever be capable of playing you like that; you’re my best friend!”

His voice had grown considerably louder as well; they were facing each other now, both of their eyes shooting daggers. Charlie couldn’t remember a single time he and Lizzie had screamed at each other.

Now, as she was looking him up and down, her beautiful face twisted into an angry sneer, he almost shuddered at the coldness in her eyes. “Your best friend, huh? I’m not so sure about that one right now.”

Charlie had heard enough. “You know what, Lizzie? Maybe you’re right, maybe people are changing. I feel like I don’t know you anymore these days.”

She flinched at hearing her actual name out of his mouth; Charlie almost never called her anything but affectionate nicknames.

He gathered his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder in a furious motion, not even trying to conceal his hurt and disappointment anymore.

“You have changed a lot this year, but certainly not for the better. You want to get rid of these rumours?” He barked a humourless laugh that echoed back from the dark trees. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure people won’t see us together anymore.”

With that, he pushed past her and left her standing alone amongst the scared looking Bowtruckles.

Lizzie immediately regretted lashing out at him, all of her anger blowing out in an instant. The hurt in Charlie’s voice was palpable, every word feeling like a slap to her face. It was bringing her back to her senses.

“Charlie, wait!”

But he was already rounding the corner of the path leading back to the castle without so much as looking back at her.

She wanted to run after him and apologise, but she knew it would have been pointless. There was no use in arguing with Charlie when he was angry; he needed time to cool off first before she had a chance to get through to him again.

Lizzie stared at the bend in the path where he had vanished out of her sight. Charlie had been the only one of her friends who had stuck with her all the time, not even judging her once, and she had nothing better to do than let her frustration out on him.

Feeling suddenly deflated, Lizzie leaned against the nearest Wiggentree and closed her eyes. If it wasn’t for the pain still gnawing at her head, she would have been convinced all of this was nothing but a nightmare. But she knew she wouldn’t wake up out of this one.

When she felt a slight tickling against her cheek, she opened her eyes again and looked down to find one of the Bowtruckles had climbed from his branch onto her shoulder. It was raking its long, spindly fingers against her face and looked at her curiously, probably hoping for a little snack.

Lizzie held her hand out and the little creature started climbing it, wandering up her arm onto her other shoulder. She watched it absentmindedly as she thought about how many of her friends she had managed to disappoint in less than a full day.

She had betrayed Rowan’s trust; she had turned away from Orion without even giving him a say in the matter; she had ignored all of Skye’s warnings and probably plunged their team into disarray; and now she had deeply hurt Charlie by unfairly questioning his motives.

Lizzie buried her hand deep in her pockets after she had set the Bowtruckle back onto its branch and reluctantly turned her steps back towards the school.

Her eyes being firmly fixed onto the ground, she tried to ignore the scattered groups of students enjoying the beautiful weather as she was nearing the castle gates. On a normal day, she would have been among them, enjoying some downtime with her friends, eagerly looking forward to their final match in pursuit of the Cup. She couldn’t have felt further from this normality she craved like nothing else.

All of a sudden, she felt very alone.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #skye parkin #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 3 years

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Supernatural Series Finale

It took me a couple days to collect my thoughts on one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch in my life. Like I said a few days ago, I cried even harder watching it the second time around. But now that I’ve had a chance to process and also see what other people were saying, I think I can finally put into words my impression of the finale.

Buckle up, this is a long one....

Let me preface this first off by saying that as an adamant Dean girl that has said numerous times over the years that all I’ve ever wanted was to wrap Dean in a blanket and give him some forehead kisses and tell him everything is going to be fine, this episode gutted me. I fully believe that my boy did not deserve to fight so hard for so long to just die as soon as he was free. He deserved a lifetime of truly enjoying time with his baby brother, the person he loved most in the whole world.

Now with that being said, having watched this series so many numerous times, I truly don’t believe that the show could have ended any other way. It’s something that has been pointed out by the creator, the writers, the actors, and even the characters themselves in the show. Dean never saw anything else for himself than dying doing the one thing he knows best, hunting. I saw a post that discussed how this would have happened numerous times already had Chuck not been interfering in their lives, and I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment.

And Dean had been raised to never think anything of that. It goes back to Cas’ declaration that he is “the most loving human he has ever met”. Dean is and always has been a man of duty. He would gladly die at the end of a blade if it meant he saved someone from the fate his family was ‘destined’ to live. He has always cared more about other people than he ever has himself. It part of the reason that his freak out in 15.17 didn’t throw me because for fuck’s sake wasn’t it his turn to be a little bit selfish for once?

Anyway, I digress. Dean has been fighting for others his whole life. And as stated in 15.19, him and Sam were free to finally write their own story. Is it not 100% on character that Dean would die a hunter’s death? As we see in the beginning of the episode, the Winchesters could have chosen to walk away from the life then. They could have chose the apple pie life, a wife and 2.5 kids. But they didn’t, they chose to continue saving people, hunting things. They were writing their own story, even if it ended tragically. But that’s life, it’s messy and depressing, but it’s also beautiful and even if Dean only got a small taste of that, I can be happy.

I know a lot of people feel like that negates their character growth throughout the seasons, but I disagree. I think that the way this ended shows just how much both of them had grown. Sam very well could have went to Jack and begged him to bring Dean back and Dean could have asked him to. But neither felt that it was necessary any longer. Without Chuck pulling the strings, that scary, neurotic, codependence they used to hold was gone. Dean was okay with dying and Sam let him go. Dean told him how much he loved him and how scared he had been to go get him at school. Dean opened up, something that season 1 Dean never would have done. Just look back at “Faith”, the episode where Dean makes every joke in the book about dying instead of facing the truth that his time was up and Sam refuses to accept it so much that his one source to save him (unwittingly) is black magic. The men I saw in 15.20 were far from the men we met in season one.

Coming back to finally being free, I have to talk about the dammed paperwork in Dean’s room. I’ve seen the speculation about that. But that’s all it is, speculation. We have no idea what that was supposed to be about. If they had meant for us to see it, they would have shown it to use like they showed us the “Dean’s other other phone” sticker. But they didn’t. So it’s perfectly fine to speculate about it, that all a part of art interpretation, but in my opinion, even if Dean was working on ‘something else’ I don’t think he ever could have fully walked away from hunting. This ending was for all intents and purposes, inevitable.

For all the rest, as a writer, I fully understand the way that they chose to do this episode. Sure covid played a role but the boys had said that the crux of what the episode was did not change. There is a certain nuance to storytelling, like I posted back on Thursday and something that is probably one of the most famous lines from this show. Endings are hard. Writing is hard. It’s impossible to please everyone and even harder to tie up all loose ends. At the end of the day, the writers had to be satisfied with the story that they put out, irregardless of what you or I think. As Jensen so beautifully puts it, Supernatural is a piece of art, one that has numerous hands in the pot. From writers to actors and directors. And art is always up for interpretation. But that’s the beauty in it.

I talked to a dear friend, @waywardbeanie after the episode and was like “I want to know x.y.and z” because a part of me wanted all the answers from them. I’ve always been a person so very deeply rooted in canon (I know as a fanfic author that sounds weird but stay with me). I trust the information given to me and take it as face value. I seen my stories as an extension to canon, not trying to rewrite it. So it took me a few days, and more conversations with other fans of the show, like @winchest09 , to understand that the facts left out of the final were most likely intentional.

This is a show that has such a passionate and loving (mostly) fandom. Together we have done so much good for the world, and that is something even if you hated the finale, you can’t take back. The writers left the ending open for us, to write our own stories, whether it’s just your thoughts or if you actually write a piece of fanfiction. There is so little about what happens after Sam leaves, presumably for Austin (don’t even get me started on the essence of that cause I might cry again), because it’s our job to decide. Did Sam quite hunting all together or was he a pseudo Bobby, manning the phones for other hunters? Did he finally go to law school or end up getting some other mundane job? Who was his wife or girlfriend or baby momma in the background? Was it Eileen? If not did she know about his life? One could drive themselves crazy answering these questions, and it’s your right to do so however it will make you happy. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter to the story.

At the end of the day, what mattered was the peace that the boys found together, in heaven. Sure Dean missed Sammy when he first got there, but he didn’t fuss, because as Bobby said “he would be along”. So Dean did what he’s always done, he took a drive in Baby, and Sam was there when he finally brought her to a stop. In the end their story ended just as it had started, our boys together.

And I know a lot of people are angry because one of the big themes this show touched on was that family doesn’t end in blood. And I agree wholeheartedly that I would have loved more familiar faces or even the mention of them (I screamed when Donna was mentioned), but at the end of the day, something Eric Kripke has been saying since season one, this show is and always has been about the brothers and their relationship. I in no way think that this negates the family they found along the way or how they could not have done a lot of it without them but, it’s not their story. I’m sorry but it’s true.

It’s not about Cas, Jack, Bobby, Crowley, Ellen, Jo, Mary, Eileen, etc. It’s about Sam and Dean and it sucks that people can’t let that go, but I get it. I can’t imagine putting so much time into something to let something like that ruin the whole experience for you. I hope that you can find peace eventually. I guess that’s my blessing, that I never really cared for anyone besides Dean. Which isn’t to say I didn’t like characters but what happened to them never mattered to me, as bitchy as that sounds.

I’m at peace with this ending, no matter how much it hurts me. And I think it’s just the finality of it that hurts. Jensen and Jared and Kripke are satisfied with their little show that could and that’s what matters most to me. Because those are the real people with real feelings that I care about.

So there you have it. I have zero tolerance for negativity, so please keep your comments off this posts. You are free to your opinion but I don’t want to see it and put any seed of doubt in my acceptance of this ending. I’ll be the first to admit I’m too easily swayed, ha!

But if you need to talk, my inbox is always open. I’m still coping with the loss of this show and everything that comes with it. I don’t do well with change or facing my own mortality, something that has rattle me these past few days. I feel a million years older and that scares me. So know your feelings are valid and I’m here.

#supernatural #spoilers #dont spoil the final hunt #spn finale #supernatural finale

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fizzingwizard · 3 years

Text

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender, but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it. How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

#triweek2020 #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #takari #digimon adventure tri #fizz writes #digimon

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

When We Were Young

Chapter 6

Description: Leaving the only home your daughter had ever known wasn’t part of the grand plan. But then again, sometimes taking chances can change your whole life. And you should know that, you’ve been doing that since the start.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing maybe. Over use of the word goodnight. Fluff. Alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 3,926

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long! I’ve been battling major writer’s block. This chapter is a little long than the normal word count I post with this series, so I hope you all enjoy. As always, this is strictly for fun and I mean no harm to this actor. Please let me know your thoughts as I love to read them. Likes and reblogs give me life.

*Italics are internal thoughts*

Catch up with Chapter 5

“Great job, Carmen!” you yelled then immediately cringed at the volume of your voice.

In your defense, a bowling alley on a Saturday afternoon was not a quiet place. All lanes were in use and frankly it was hard to hear yourself think. Carmen gave you a friendly wave before taking a seat next to Ellie.

You were supervising six fifteen and sixteen-year-old kids as part of Ellie’s sixteenth birthday. This was technically celebration two of three. Being that her actual birthday was on a school night, just the two of you went out for crab legs and root beer floats. Her pick which you were perfectly fine with being that you loved seafood. Root beer floats were an afterthought as the two of you window shopped down the busy street from the restaurant. Cookies strategically placed in a window display drew you in, but ice cream sounded better. When Ellie ordered a float, you followed suit. This afternoon she wanted to go bowling with her friends followed by pizza at your place. It had taken a good hour picking up the five other kids in your trusty Cherokee, but you didn’t mind.

“Mom, are you sure you don’t want to play?”

“Nah. You kids have fun.” You stood, reaching for your purse resting on the empty seat next to you and looped it on your shoulder. “Do you guys want something to drink? I can grab a pitcher of Coke or Sprite.”

“Could we get both? Please mom,” Ellie asked.

“You got it,” you said with a smile before turning away.

They were old enough to bowl by themselves, so you really just wanted to give them some space. None of her group of friends drove yet, so rather than having everyone get dropped off, you volunteered to pick up. Ellie insisted that you stay rather than driving home just to turn around to come get them. According to Ellie, you had been dubbed the “cool” mom. You weren’t quite sure what you did to deserve that title. Sure, you were always willing to drive one of her friends home and you always had snacks at your house, but none of that made you feel cool.

Most of the kids you knew except for Aaron. You heard Ellie mention his name a time or two and heard her on the phone with Carmen mentioning his name again. Your sneaking suspicion was that she had a crush on him. He was a polite kid that was a bit on the tall side and a little lanky. Ellie had never approached the subject of dating with you, but if she wanted to do it in a group setting, you were more than fine with that. She was sixteen now, so even if she wanted to do a non-group date, you probably wouldn’t fight her on it.

As odd and surreal as it was, Chris was currently at your house setting up the bonus room for Ellie. You had caved and decided to make the first floor of your row home a bonus space for her. When you discussed it with Chris, he had asked to split the cost with you. It threw you for a minute, but he argued that he wanted to give her something for her birthday and didn’t know what to buy her. He threatened to buy her a car when you initially told him no, so you agreed to split the cost of the room. Chris had recently purchased a new couch for his home, so he was giving you his old one. The large space was also getting a table and four chairs for school work and craft projects with friends. A flat screen tv was being mounted to the wall and a couple of bean bag chairs were being added to the space. You’d let Ellie pick out some knickknacks and framed art to finish out the space the next time you two went shopping.

Things had gotten better after your heated conversation with Chris. He felt bad and the poor guy wore his heart of his sleeve. He was beyond sweet and timid with you the two times he was over at your place after that day. You actual had to pull him into the kitchen with you and tell him to knock it off. You were fine. The two of you were fine. Families could be difficult and you knew that from experience. It was over as far as you were concerned and you just wanted to move forward. Chris had started to reach out to you more by texting every few days to see how you were or send you a meme or two. It was nice. You couldn’t argue with that.

Chris had made himself scarce by the time you brought the kids back to your place. Only Chris’ family and Gwen knew about your family situation so he couldn’t just be hanging at your house when you arrived home with a group of teenagers.

“Oh, my goodness! Mom! This is amazing!” Ellie exclaimed once she stepped through the door. “How?” she asked, throwing her arms around your middle.

“Happy birthday baby girl,” you whispered into her hair. “Chris and I did it.”

She pulled her face back, wide eyed. “Chris did this too?” she whispered.

You nodded your head yes. “It’s our birthday gift to you. We’ll go shopping next week so you can decorate the space a bit. Sound good?”

“Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she cheered pulling from your embrace and stepping into the room.

“I’ll order the pizzas,” you shouted as you walked up the stairs.

You sent Chris a quick text letting him know that Ellington loved her new hangout spot and was currently entertaining her friends in there.

Chris: Glad to hear that sweetheart

Whoa. That’s new.

You hummed to yourself before quickly exciting your text thread to order pizza. Once that was taken care of, you poured yourself a glass of wine and waited for the pizzas to arrive. Gwen had sent you a string of texts confirming that she had her flight booked for her trip in July. She was staying with you for a week and wanted to do all the touristy stuff. That was fine with you because you hadn’t gotten around to doing that yourself.

Your phone rang and you quickly clicked the accept button without paying much attention.

“Dude, yes, we’ll do the freaking tea party thing.”

You heard a chuckle that most certainly did not come from Gwen’s mouth.

“When do you want to do the tea party thing?”

It was Chris. Of course, it wouldn’t be the friend that had been non stop texting you for the last twenty minutes.

“H-hey! H-hi Chris,” you said, promptly clearing your throat. “What’s up?”

He chuckled again. “I’m trying to figure out what tea party you’re talking about.”

“Oh! Oh, I was just making plans with my best friend for when she comes to visit in July. I thought you were her calling.”

“Well, that still doesn’t answer my question. A tea party?”

“You know. The famous one. She wants to see all the Boston things.”

He chuckled again and if you were being honest, you really liked the sound of that.

“Ahhh. That one. Of course,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you drawled out. “So, what’s up?”

“I was just calling to ask that you call me when the kids are gone for the night.”

Your heart rate picked up. You could feel it thumping wildly in your chest.

“Call you?”

“Yeah,” he answered lamely. “I want to help clean up.”

Oh. That.

“Plus, I still have your spare key, so I want to return that,” he added.

“Ye-yeah. Sure. You don’t have to clean up though. It’s just pizza and cupcakes.”

“We’ll see...Give me a call or shoot me a text and I’ll stop by.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later then,” you said softly

“Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Chris.”

Ellington was gone for the night as she was sleeping over at Carmen’s house. The other kids had been picked up by another parent shortly before. The house was in relatively good shape considering you had six teenagers over for the better part of four hours. You had failed to pick up paper plates and cups, so you had dishes to do in addition to a table that needed to be wiped down as well as a floor to be swept. Chris was on his way over and he made it abundantly clear that you were not to start cleanup and until he got there. He was really trying to do his part as a parent. Or whatever he was. It was still too new and your mind hadn’t fully figured it out yet.

Not wanting to smell the pizza any longer, you took the three boxes outside and stuck them in the trash can just as Chris’ headlights hit you. Rather than dashing inside and looking like a weirdo, you stayed put and waited for him to exit his SUV.

“You don’t listen, do you?” he said, warning tone in his voice as he reached you.

“I couldn’t take the pizza smell anymore. I’m pizzaed out.”

“Likely story,” he teased. “And pizza? Thought she wasn’t a fan of cheese.”

“Only in some circumstances. Unique kid, remember?”

Chris hummed at that, following you into the house. “What’s the damage?”

“Surprisingly not bad. I think the older they get, the less of a mess they make,” you answered, as the two of you surveyed the room. “Plus, I think the fact that there were only two boys-”

“There were boys here?” Chris asked, cutting you off.

“Yes, Christopher. Ellie has boys who are friends. Although, I do think she likes one a little more than a friend.”

“Isn’t she a little young for that?” he asked.

“She’s sixteen! I’m surprised she hasn’t had a boyfriend that I at least know of, sooner,” you replied, carrying the six plates up the stairs to the kitchen. Chris was behind you, with the glasses stacked into two piles.

“Yeah, but, still.”

You chuckled at his response shaking your head.

Chris was currently lounging on your couch with a beer in his hand. You rarely drank it, but with him over at least once a week, you started to pick up a six pack every other week to have some on hand. Wine was more of your forte, although you weren’t particular about it. Ten dollar bottle, thirty dollar bottle, it was all the same to you.

“How old were you when you first had a boyfriend?”

“Hmm. That’s tough. I mean when I was a kid, like ten or eleven, I had what I thought was a boyfriend at the time, but of course that was like for a day or two and then you forget about that kid,” you laughed softly. “But dating was different for me. My parents had very particular standards, so I really only dated the sons of my parents’ friends. Kind of arranged courtships if you will. Even though I had a couple of boyfriends in high school, it wasn’t all that exciting or great for me. I dated in college, but nothing terribly serious. But I would consider those real boyfriends because they were with guys I wanted to be with.”

“Your family is pretty uptight?”

“Oh yeah. Getting pregnant wasn’t really in their life plans for me.”

Chris offered you a soft smile. “You went all Girls Gone Wild in college then?”

You ducked your head and covered your mouth as you snorted a laugh. “Hardly. I may have had my independence, but I didn’t go crazy. I was just able to be me for once.”

He nodded his head. You noticed his cheeks were bright red.

God, he’s good looking.

“Sorry!” he chuckled out. “Well, I’m glad you were able to find yourself in school.”

Each of you took a drink, you from your wine glass and Chris from his bottle of beer. It was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. The comfortable silence was welcoming.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course,” Chris replied.

“What made you donate sperm?”

Now it was your turn for your face to heat up. You honestly just wanted to know, but damn if it wasn’t a weird question to ask someone.

Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Money,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I was eighteen and interning in the city. Needless to say, I was making next to nothing,” he sighed. “A buddy of mine had done it a few times and talked up the cash he was making.’

“Understandable,” you said.

“I only did it once. I was scared to death my mom would find out, so it only ended up being a one and done for me.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Well, thank you for doing so,” you said, lifting your glass in salute. “It brought me Ellington.” Chris’ eyes went soft and he raised his glass to you.

After a moment you chuckled and Chris perked up.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just,” you giggled again. “Your file said you were a pediatrician who acted in theater for fun.”

“I swear I never said that. I wouldn’t do that.” His plea was a bit panicked but sounded sincere.

“I believe you! I’m sure they beef up those files. Ellie is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“She is. We can agree to that.”

“El! Did you borrow my earrings again? The white gold hoops?” you yelled from your bedroom.

Tonight, was Ellie’s third and final birthday celebration, but this time it was just going to be her and Chris. He was over at your place making Ellie chicken enchiladas per her request and you were finally having a much-needed night out with your co-workers that you now considered friends. This was the first time the two of them were spending time together without you there. This was also the first time you were having an adults’ since you moved to Boston months ago. It was fine. You were fine. You weren’t freaking out at all.

Ellie came running into your room. “Sorry!” she said dropping the hoops in your open hand.

You pecked her on the cheek. “No problem.”

“You look great mom.”

“Thanks, baby.” You ran your fingers through your hair and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. “How’s Chris doing out there. Hasn’t burned down the kitchen yet, I hope.”

She giggled and shook her head no. “He says he’s a great cook. I’ll let you know.”

“You better.”

Amy, your manager was picking you up in fifteen minutes. A group of ten or so were meeting at a restaurant that had live music on Fridays and tonight was a nineteen eighties tribute band. The plans were dinner, drinks, and dancing. You weren’t sure on the dancing, but you weren’t about to poopoo that plan to your manager. She had become a close friend over the last few weeks, she didn’t need to know that you did not dance. You weren’t bad per se, you just weren’t all that coordinated. Get a few drinks in you, and you were pretty out of control on the dance floor.

“You don’t think I’m overdressed?” you asked.

“No, this looks really good.”

The restaurant was a little on the nicer side. So, even though you were there mainly for the music, you didn’t think jeans were the way to go. Looking in the mirror attached to your closet door, you pulled down on the waist, making the red wrap dress reach your knees. The fabric had a tendency to bunch up, making it hit a couple of inches above your knees. You liked your legs, but your conservative upbringing never really left you completely.

“Any boys going to be there tonight?” Ellie asked, wiggling her eyebrows?

“Boys? Ellington…really?”

She chuckled softly. “Just asking.”

“Yes, there will be men there. It’s a work thing and I work with some men. Plus, it’s a restaurant, so there’s bound to be a few more.”

You started to walk from your room to the living room, shoes in hand.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

You turned around surprising her as she jumped back a step. “Hey! Who’s the mother and who’s the daughter?” A fake scowl on your face which Ellie easily picked a part as she started laughing, throwing her head back.

“What are you two ladies going on about?” Chris said, stepping out of the kitchen with his hands on his waist. His eyes met yours and his mouth parted. “Wow,” he said softly.

You bit your bottom lip and turned back toward the couch taking a seat so you slip on your shoes.

“I was just teasing mom about her night out.” Ellie said, not catching on to the tension in the room.

Chris nodded but kept his eyes on you. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft smile.

“Are you getting ready to head out?” he asked.

“Yep. My ride should be here in a few.”

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Dinner’s about ready. Want to set the table for me El?”

“On it,” she said, moving into the kitchen passing by Chris and giving him a slight hip check.

“Smells good. Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.”

“Funny. I’ll have you know, my ma taught me to cook and I do just fine thank you.”

“Ellie will be the judge of that,” you replied, standing up now that your shoes were securely in place.

“I guess so,” he grinned.

Your phone chimed, so you quickly dug it out of your purse.

“That would be my ride,” you said to Chris who nodded before turning back to the kitchen.

“Ellie, Amy’s here. I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything.”

Ellie jogged out of the dinning room through the kitchen. “We’ll be fine. Have fun. Meet boys,” she said wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

You couldn’t get the damn key to work. It was your third attempt, missing the lock all together on your first two tries. Amy’s car was still parked in front your house running with the lights on.

“Need help there girlie?” she called through the open window.

You laughed louder than you meant to. Drinking two more drinks than necessary was really getting to you.

“I got it! I got it!” you yelled back. The key was in the slot, all you need to do was turn it and you were home free so to speak. “Go home! Love y-”

The door opened causing you to fall forward but before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you by the biceps.

“Whoa,” you whispered.

“You okay there, Y/N?” Chris chuckled helping you to stand on two feet.

“I’m-I’m fine. Thanks for catching me.”

“You good?” Amy called out.

You stepped back out the door and away from Chris’ arms, blowing her a kiss. “All good!”

Amy waved and drove off down the road. Turning back to your door, you stepped inside walking around Chris who closed the door behind you.

You had a permanent smile on your face, mostly due to the alcohol but partly due to the night. You had honest to goodness fun and it had been awhile. Your co-workers were a hoot. The food was good and the drinks were great. The band was high energy and talented. Half way through the set, you were forced out on the dance floor by some of your new friends and you actually had fun. Everyone was dancing too close for you to be too uncoordinated, so your secret was still safe.

“You didn’t have to stick around,” you said climbing the stairs.

Chris jogged up the stairs to catch up to you. “I know, but I wanted to clean up and didn’t want to leave Ellie home alone. She’s in bed already. Aaron called,” he said, giving you a look.

“Ah, Aaron. The boyfriend not boyfriend.”

“Yeah. Whatever that’s about.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “He’s a nice boy.”

“I don’t trust sixteen year old boys,” he said, leaning against the island and crossing his arms.

You smiled at him before reaching into the fridge to grab a bottle of water. You lifted it and waved it but Chris shook his head no.

“Not that quiet and studious boys can’t be punks, but I just didn’t get that impression of him. Besides, Ellie is a smart girl and we’ve had the sex talk.” The last bit was said in a hushed voice.

Chris raised his eyebrows, a small grin playing on his lips. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the word sex, but suddenly you were beyond flustered.

“The talk. You know. Not the birds and the bees, but birth control and waiting until you find the right partner,” you said. “Sex,” you whispered.

Chris threw his head back and laughed loudly. “I love that you feel the need to whisper the word sex.”

You shrugged your shoulders and lifted the bottle to your mouth taking a long drink. When he didn’t look away, you just kept on drinking, refusing to continue this side discussion.

He finally chuckled and looked down. “Did you have fun tonight?”

You set the bottle on the counter behind you and pulled that smile back on your lips. “The best time. It was hard moving away from friends. It’s nice to have friends here now.”

“Good. I’m glad sweetheart.”

There was that word again. You belly flipped and you had to grip the counter behind you to stay on your feet.

“I’m going to take off. I’ll call you.”

“Ye-yeah. Sounds good Chris,” you replied.

He started his decent down the stairs and you took a moment to yourself before you followed. Chris was slipping on his boots when you made it to the first level.

“Drive safe.”

“I will,” he replied softly but made no move to leave.

The two of you stood motionless, soft smiles on your face. It almost felt like a game about who would look away first.

“Well.”

“Yeah,” you replied.

Chris chuckled and pulled you in a hug. It was unexpected as the two of you hadn’t hugged before.

“Oh.”

“Have a goodnight sweetheart,” he said into your hair.

You started to pull back, but his arms were still around you. “You too. I mean, you have a goodnight too.”

He smiled brightly at you, nodding his head slightly. It’s then when you lost your mind. Leaning in, you brushed your lips against his. You quickly dropped your arms forcing him to do the same. Your brain was at a loss as to what to do next. Chris’ eyes were wide but he still had a soft smile on his lips. When neither of you moved to take a step back, you decided to end the night before you made it anymore uncomfortable or tried to kiss him again.

“Okay, goodnight,” you said.

“Goodnight?”

“Yeah, goodnight Chris.”

“Okay.”

He opened the door, took a step outside and turned back to face you. “Night.”

“Night,” you replied.

You shut the door and flicked the deadbolt. Pressing your back against the door, you closed your eyes and took in a few calming breathes.

I kissed Chris. What was I thinking?!

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regicidal-defenestration · 3 years

Text

Ringing in the Year of the Beleaguered Badger

In which Nobby and Colon celebrate the new year with an odd wooden companion

"It's looking at me all menacingly, sarge."

"Its not looking at anything, its eyes are painted on."

"Yeah, painted on menacingly."

Nobby and Colon considered the figure in front of them. It was certainly odd - a life sized wooden person, a wide grin and two bright blue eyes painted on its face, wearing an equally bright red uniform, with the occasional brown splotch that Colon was doing his best to not think about.

But it wasn't menacing, Colon was sure about that. It was just a toy owned by some rich nob, or else some sort of art display that pole rats (he was unsure of the exact term) like him weren't supposed to understand. Nothing menacing in the slightest.

Even so, Colon was glad of the window separating him from it.

"It just blinked!" Nobby yelped, hitting Colon in his alarm.

Colon scowled at him. Well - half scowled. Well - shared what may well have been a scared glance with his friend. But there was nothing to be scared of, not at all. It was just a bit creepy.

"You and your imagination, Nobby."

"It did!"

Nobby sounded genuinely shaken, which was worrying. Usually, when someone suddenly moved when they should have been still, it meant an opportunity for Nobby to sell back what he'd just nicked from their pockets. Not… whatever this reaction was.

Turning very deliberately away, Fred leaned against the building's wall. He imagined that he was sat back at his nice warm desk, making plans to go out and celebrate the new year properly, not out on patrol all because Vimes had insisted they go back to their roots as regular old officers. It was-

"It just waved at me Fred."

Colon's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"How about," he said slowly, "we go back to our roots somewhere else?"

Nobby sagged in relief. And as the two of them made their way down the street, they ignored extremely hard the sound of shattering glass.

It was a nice, well lit, and most importantly, empty street, not a weird toy soldier in sight. Colon took his bell - a proper old Watch one, gods this probably hadn't been used in years - and rang it out once, twice, three times.

"Twelve o'clock and all is well!" he called over the loud clangs.

Nobby frowned.

"No it's not."

"Are you disrespecting a superior officer, Nobby?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sarge. It's just that," he paused to allow Colon to raise an eyebrow, "it's not midnight yet, is it?. It's only half eleven."

Colon paused, took a moment to count on his fingers, then nodded in grudging acknowledgement. He swung the bell again.

"Half past eleven - yes alright no need to look so smug Nobby - and all is still well!"

"No it Isn't!" a third voice piped up, the capitalisation clearly audible.

The two men screamed, grabbing each other instinctively. They then spent an awkwardly silent few minutes trying to pretend like they hadn't just screamed and grabbed each other, and had, in fact, carried off the whole situation with a cool, calm, and collected air. It very nearly worked too.

Nobby was the fastest to regain a sense of composure.

"What d'you mean No it Isn't?" He looked around suspiciously. "Is that a threat?" There didn't look to be hosts of heavily armed thugs waiting in the shadows, but you never knew with these things.

"Oh no, mot At All! What I mean Is, All's not well Because we're Here!"

The painted smile seemed to broaden.

A pause.

"We?" Colon asked, pointing between him and Nobby.

The Toy Soldier hummed for a good minute. Colon couldn't tell if the consideration on its face was faked, or if it was just Like That.

"Hmm, No, but I Do like your spirit! I'm Talking about Me and my Crew!"

Colon leaned in close to Nobby.

"Let me handle this, eh? Matters of diplomacy like this happen to be my four-tay, you know."

Nobby gave him a Look which was, in his (Colon's) view, was neither nice, nor sufficiently respecting of his (Nobby's) commanding officer.

"And would you, fine citiz- nutcra- erm-" Colon paused as he scrabbled for a suitably diplomatic term, ignoring Nobby's snickers, "fine being, care to explain who the crew in question is?"

"And are you plannin' any funny business?" Nobby added, not willing to let go of his suspicion yet.

"Well, there's Me! There's Jonny, who is currently Beheaded, Nastya, who has Refused to Set foot on the Disc for Moral Reasons, Raph And Ivy, who are Helping Marius ask that man Vimes out to Dinne-"

"Well your Marius won't have much luck with that," Colon interrupted, undiplomatically. "Sam doesn't swing that way."

There was a moment of silence.

"Fred," Nobby began, putting on his best 'telling a figure of relative authority that they are, actually, spouting ideas that are even more incorrect than that time Aunt June got drunk at the Hogswatch party and began claiming that the world wasn't flat' voice.

"Mr Vimes'as been out for longer than I've known him. And you’ve know him longer than I have."

"But when I've gone about him being all strait-laced - you know how he gets - none of you bastards corrected me did you!"

Nobby was not a book-smart man. If asked what a thesaurus was, he'd probably say some sort of dead lizard. Whilst he didn't know his words though, he did know his friend.

"Fred," he said again, "d'you think strait-laced means a straight person who wears lace up boots?"

Colon opened and shut his mouth a few times, trying and failing to say something.

"Course I don't," he said at last, recovering admirably. "Just, keeping you on your toes."

Spinning to face the Toy Soldier and, he hoped, firmer conversational ground, he added: "Is Sybil aware of your Marius' advances on her husband?"

"Oh most Certainly! She has Even helped Plan Out his Speech!"

"Ah." Nobby nodded thoughtfully. "wuh-luh-wuh muh-luh-muh solidarity."

"Sybil likes women?"

"Course she does sarge. She was engaged to that lady nob, before Sam nat’rally, but they broke it off on account of her, the nob, not liking all them dragons."

"You know a lot of people, Nobby"

"Word gets around."

"Do you, er, have some sort of mailing list then?" Fred was capital-S Straight, but tried not to let that get in the way.

Nobby failed at holding in a snort of laughter.

“A mailing list? Blimey Fred, imagine me getting a Hogswatch card from Vetinari himself. An’ imagine all them just waiting eagerly to get my letter.”

Seeing Colon’s expression, he tried to school his face into a more serious expression, but it didn’t last long.

“Imagine- just imagine a letter showin’ up at the Watch House, well, multiple letters really, cause of the fact you’re the only straight an cis person I can name off the top of me head, after Archchancellor whass’name has an attack of the Genders last month, all them letters with their little rainbow wax sealing stamps-”

Colon cleared his throat loudly. He jerked his head over to where the Toy Soldier was standing, unmoving, unblinking. Creepy bugger, he thought, undimplomatically, but this time he didn’t say it out loud. Character development.

“I’m sure our... friend... here doesn’t need to know, eh, Nobby?”

“On the contrary, I Think it’s Marvellous! A Mailing list, what Fun! Oh, I Do so enjoy visiting you Silly little People, with your silly Little Ideas!”

The words themselves seemed insulting, but the Toy Soldier’s tone was still bright and cheerful. Although... three consecutive sentences ending with exclamation marks is never a good sign.

“Oh! It’s nearly Midnight now, If you Wanted to ring your Bell Again- oh!” It clapped its hands together excitedly. “Can I Ring it? And say the Thing?”

Without a complaint, Colon handed the bell over. There was probably a Rule about not doing that somewhere, but his mind was still stuck back on Vetinari. Everyone knew the Patrician wore that black ring on his middle finger, of course, but he hadn’t actually thought properly about th-

Nobby’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“You’re slightly staring at it, sarge.”

“Wha-? Yes, of course, go ahead and er, say the Thing, if you want.”

“Twelve O’clock And all is Wel-”

Its final word was drowned out as the city bells began chiming.

Midnight in Ankh-Morpork, and thus, the New Year, was determined largely by consensus, each of the bells chiming slightly out of time with each other. The first to ring belonged to the Fools’ Guild, because there is apparently nothing funnier than getting woken up in the dead of night. The fireworks began as the big brass gong at the Temple of Small Gods rang out, bangs and explosions adding to the chorus of dings, clangs, bongs and jingles. By the time the big rocket exploded purple and red over the sky it was impossible to tell the bells from each other, except for the tongueless and magical bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve even silences could be heard even over the din.

The high point of the display was, as usual, the Alchemists’ Guild blowing up, this time with an aesthetically pleasing blue fireball.

Nobby whistled in appreciation.

"Happy new year Fred."

"Happy new Nobby. Happy new year Toy Soldier who's still following us around."

"Happy New Year old Chums!"

#happy nearly nnew year anyway #discworld #the mechanisms #writing

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