#This is where blue Powerade comes from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garfieldsladybird · 2 years

Note

heyyy idk if ur request are on or off and if u still write for timothée. but if you do, i had an idea. so like i think its number 6 and the prompt is “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?” and the reader is dating timothée and they r at his apartment smoking and he falls asleep before she does and wakes up to her in his shirt

my requests are open so your all good and I will forever write for him!! :)) i love thisss!!! thank you for requesting lovely <333 also sorry it took forever :(( it didn’t have to be this many words but for some reason I just wanted to make it longer.

Cloth | Timothée Chalamet.

timothée x reader. (established relationship)

warnings — words: 1,136. fluff. drugs. marijuana. very detailed about smoking bong hits. smoking a piece of blunt wrap in a bong. blunts have tobacco in it, mentions of tobacco.

a/n: also very proud on how this turned out :)) to all my ppl that lay on the right side of the bed im sorry, I had to choose a side and I sleep on the left 😬

Credits -> This is my work. Their ^ idea. It is to not be plagiarized. Timothée Chalamet is a real human being and I do not know him. This is all fictional. Even if he’s real.

Masterlist, Navigation, Timmy C. List.

It was just one of those lazy days today.

Best days of all days, were you and timothée were just you and timmy, even though that’s an everyday thing with you both, it was a day of no work, no fans- unless you do run into someone when out but no online stuff, and that's it. Just comfort for each other.

The day already passed by, not doing much except smoking, exploring each other’s bodies a few times, going for a walk and ordering some food but it was way too late to order food now, yet the city wasn’t asleep. I mean we are in the city nicknamed ‘The city that never sleeps.’

As of right now, you and timmy were just taking bong hits, relaxing on the bed, and watching a new show on netflix. Today you’ve smoked two blunts and a joint, while also taking bong hits, pen hits, and some dap hits too but that was throughout the day. And now you didn’t have that much weed to roll a joint, not even to roll a blunt... especially when all the cones and blunts you have are rolled and there was no point to smoke one right now.

A sharpe sound was heard, interrupting the tv as the pink lighter in your hand generated a flame. If you look close enough, there was blue at the bottom close to the metal where it was sprouting out from, continuing to go into an ombré of orange to yellow in the form of a candle, but between the blue and orange, it was clear, see-through. surprisingly.

You pull the now lit lighter to the bowl that was full of ground-up weed and a very small piece of a blunt wrap— it was from a leftover roach earlier that day, both of you smoked the weed from the roach so now you were smoking the wrap.

The bong was in your hand over the side table as you lit your herbs on fire and begin to inhale. Covering the carb hole with your thumb, you hear the tv playing but also hear the water bubbling and feeling it drip back down too.

Watching the bowl for a few seconds, a familiar burning sensation in the back of your throat starts building up. Just before it gets too much, you move to uncover the hole and continue to inhale, the air aiding to direct the smoke into your lungs.

You take as much as you could before pulling away, smoke lines come waving through the dark fiery weed from in the bowl. You slowly blow the smoke out, making a small white cloud form in the dark tv lit room.

A grape taste fulls your mouth and the air now smells like it to, and it wasn’t like the medicine grape or the powerade grape flavor but it was in between both of them, tasting better than both in your opinion, the little tobacco in there making it all hit you more. Making the high so much more better.

“mmm, mon amour?” he asked in a mumbled, his face stuffed in a pillow; eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed with his lips in a pout. He was so tired, his arms felt like they could fall off, and he couldn’t open his eyes for shit, he was on the brick falling asleep but he need to say something.

“yea?” you ask with a soft smile.

“come to bedddd…”

Turning to him, you see him all snuggled up, going to lay on your side in front of him, your left hand cupping his jaw, just looking at him with a soft look, memorizing his face once more.

“Je t'aime, and sleepy.” he mumbles, eyes kind of fluttering open but still closed, yawning before his lips push into a kiss face with him humming, his way of saying ‘i wanting a kiss.’

“I love you too,” you gave him a peck but he whines when the warmth of your lips leaves his, giving him a few more smiling when you feel his before pulling away, your lips still touching, “go to sleep,” you whisper with a playful smile.

“no, you,” he mumbles, his hand now wrapping around your waist.

“I’ll come to bed with you, I just have to change, okay.” you kiss him before getting up to change, his arm flopping on the bed, the strength he has, not able to hold you down, all because of the high but as you leave he hums disapprovingly, ‘mhm mhmm’.

When you finally climb back into bed, only a few seconds had passed but he was out like a light. As you were going under the covers and turning the tv down in the process, his arm suddenly wraps around your waist, scaring you a little as he pulls you in, gaining his strength in those two minutes. Both of you are now cuddled together with the show still playing, high, asleep, but still together.

A beam of light was peeking into the room, it was lightening and warming up the carpet, indicating that the sun was up and above the window, saying it was morning. Not that many birds were chirping, but if the windows were open you would hear them talking beautifully to one another, saying good morning to everyone. The cars still making sounds as usual. The city still alive.

The warm ball in the atmosphere has yet to touch the people in the bed. Both still in deep sleep from the night they had, even though that’s an everyday night. on some occasions.

As the hours went by, the morning went higher into the sky, the bright light drifting in the room, going from one place to another, until it shone on the wall above the two lovers from where the rays were glimpsing inwards.

They look beautiful. And peaceful.

He was on his back with you cuddled and laying on him, face in his neck, leg wrapped around his waist, arm on his chest. Like a koala bear.

Disturbing the peaceful air in the room, Timmy grumbles as he rolls over, gently to not disturb you. Now laying more on you, he breathes you in, yawning before giving you a few pecks on the neck. He gets your usual smell but also gets the scent of his too. Lifting his head up a little, he looks down and sees his shirt on you. As soon as he sees that a smile rises up and he buries his face in your neck.

soon enough, you started waking up from the kisses. you cuddle into his chest, he responds by holding you even more. Breathing him in, you lift head a little, yawning you see he’s awake. “morning.” you say quietly, with a very tired smile.

“morning my love,” he says quietly too, voice raspy, with a pleasant smile, before kissing your forehead. You respond with a hum and smile on your face, leaning more into him.

“is that my shit?” he says quietly in your ear with the teasing voice in a smirk.

Still tired, you slowly open your eyes, quickly looking down at your shirt, you look up, making eye contact with him “oh, um. you mean our shirt..?” you end your question with a smirk.

‎© 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖽y𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽. 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾!!

269 notes · View notes

blog-name-idk · 2 years

Text

Mold a Pretty Lie | 04

Banner by @persphonesorchid <3

Pairing: professor!Jin x Fem undergrad!Reader

Genre: College!AU, Unhealthy relationships, toxic relationships, virgin reader, eventual yandere, eventual smut

Summary: They say love is like a garden that requires regular care and attention. Kim Seokjin, your kind and handsome professor, is more than happy to cultivate the vines that bind his heart to yours.

Word Count: 4,358

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Kissing, non-consensual kissing/assault, sneaker destruction

AN: A huge thanks to @eserethriddle for beta-ing this chapter for me. Also check their fics out, they're amazing. Hope y'all enjoy!

~~~~~

In the weeks that followed, there were no more incidents where you nodded off in Dr. Kim's class. You made sure of it. Your professor didn't mention it again, other than leaving a blue Powerade on your desk the next time you met him to work on your research project. It was objectively the best flavor, and you did your best not to read too much into his thoughtfulness.

However, your best wasn't good enough, and each one of his smiles and silly jokes added another bud to the flowers blooming in your chest.

You craved when he'd lean in close enough for your imagination to go wild, the way he would rest a distracting hand on your shoulder when he reviewed your work, the sparkle in his eyes when he was pleased. You didn't go chasing after more contact than that, but you did find yourself lingering longer than your allotted hours, chatting to your energetic professor about this or that.

At first you had been reticent, wary of taking up too much of his time, or god forbid, coming across like some of the students who stalked his office hours. But he was often the one to engage you, to ask about how your semester was going outside of his class. It was hard to believe he cared, but his face lit up in genuine interest when you spoke, and it was hard not to bask in the warm glow of his approval.

Why were you such an idiot? You were smitten, daydreaming about a man there was no hope of ever attaining. You knew it was a waste of time to keep pining after him the way you were, but how exactly could you prevent your stomach from flipping upside down with each smile?

You

Help

Phoebe

What's wrong, my pretty tulip?

You winced at the nickname, a joke at your expense Phoebe had "hilariously" come up with in high school. Because you were a virgin in both sets of lips. It was fucking weird and gross and she never let it go despite the fact that you hated it.

You

I have a stupid crush on someone I have objectively zero chance with

Phoebe

Oh????

Pix!!!

You

Lol

Yeah, no

Phoebe

Name!!!

You

Yeah, no

You were NOT going to open yourself to ridicule from your best friend by admitting you had enough of a crush on a professor for it to be a problem. That was just asking for her to make fun of you. If she kept pressing, you'd send her a picture of Jimin or Taehyung or something, but not if you could avoid it.

Phoebe

You're so boring

This is why it's unrequited

You

Omg rude

Phoebe

Lol you know I'm joking

Well you know what they say

You

If you say "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else" I'm blocking you for being cliche as fuck

Phoebe

It's a cliche for a reason babe

It's not like you're in love with the guy right?

You just need a distraction that'll help redirect your thinking

Just start flirting with a new cutie, works for me every time

You

I guess that makes sense…

Wouldn't that be like, kinda rude to the other person though?

Phoebe

I said flirt not propose to lmao

And not just a rando, someone you actually could like

How are you of all people trying to question me, hmm little tulip?

You

Ugh yeah yeah fine whatever

… Thank you for the advice

Phoebe

Anytime

Miss you babe <3

You

Miss you too <3

You stared at your phone for a moment, lost in thought as you considered your friend's words. You could kind of see where she was coming from - you were probably just infatuated with your professor because you saw and interacted with him multiple times a week, and your wishful brain mistook his kindness for some sort of preference. Dr. Kim was so wonderful that it was just normal human nature for you to become enamored - maybe if you reframed your mindset and let yourself get swept up with someone else, your silly crush would fade.

"Sierra?" you asked one weekend, wondering if you had soured her desire to party with you. She hadn't tried to cajole you out since that not-so-fateful night, and you never asked why in the fear that you would hear that she now hated you. Your roommate perked up and looked at you from her bed, where she was laying on her back and scrolling through her phone. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Haven't decided yet, what's up?" she replied curiously. She didn't look apprehensive at your question, so that was probably a good sign.

"I just - I thought it might be fun to go out or something…" you said tentatively, studying her face for any flashes of annoyance. Instead, her eyes lit up.

"Really?" Sierra asked excitedly, sitting upright on her mattress. "I didn't put you off partying with me?"

"Really, I - wait what do you mean? I blacked out and spent half the night throwing up."

Her words made no sense, why would you not want to hang out with her anymore? Instead of rolling her eyes and agreeing with your assessment the way Phoebe might have, she laughed.

"I guess that means you don't remember when I tried to hug you and then threw up on your shoes instead."

"I thought that was my vomit," you exclaimed. "And I thought you were annoyed with me, and that's why we never went out again."

"I thought you didn't want to hang out with me!"

The two of you stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"We're idiots," she said through giggles, looking just as relieved as you felt. "Alright, let's party tonight! Maybe minus the puking."

You laughed at her addendum, nodding in agreement. "I can work with that."

~~~~~

You weren't exactly sure how you had ended up here, shut in a bedroom with Sierra and a group of other strangers. The two of you were on the far side of tipsy, but nowhere near as drunk as you had been the last time. And now you were staring at the bottle some guy - Chad? Brad? - was holding up.

"Spin the bottle? Seriously?" scoffed Sierra, crossing her arms. You were inclined to agree - sure, people were inclined to play horny drinking games, but you didn't think anyone played spin the bottle specifically out of middle school, or bad teenage sitcoms. At least with Truth or Dare or Never Have I Ever, you sort of learned about the people around you.

Plus you could definitely say that you weren't particularly interested in locking lips with anyone in this room.

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you all but I think I'm gonna go back to the party," you said as diplomatically as you could.

"What, too much of a prude?" ChadBrad asked with a smirk, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He was attractive, sure, but arrogance clung to his shoulders like a bad smell and you were not into it.

"No, I just have standards," you retorted loftily, getting up from the floor and heading to the door. "I'm seeing too many frogs, and not enough princes."

Sierra laughed gleefully at ChadBrad's startled expression and followed you.

"Sorry buddy, no amount of Smirnoff Ice in your mini-fridge is gonna get either of us to hook up with you," she added, and the guy scowled as the others in the room began to snicker.

The closing door cut off the sound and the two of you giggled as you walked back to the main party.

"Dang girl, I thought you were this meek little mouse, but that was hilarious," Sierra said with a grin, making you laugh. You were so caught up in talking to your friend that you forgot to watch where you were going, and ended up colliding with a warm, solid body. The warmth was offset by a cold trickle down your shirt and you jumped back, realizing you had made whoever it was spill their drink.

"I'm so sorry, I - Tae?"

Your friend stood before you, eyes wide, hair tousled, wearing a loose white button-up that made him look like a medieval farmhand a heroine would run away with.

"[Y/n]?" he asked, surprise etched on his face as his eyes roved down your figure. Sierra had convinced you to wear another crop top, and you fought the urge to cover your stomach as his gaze fell on your bare skin.

"Now here's a prince," Sierra whispered in your ear, making heat rise up your neck as you realized what she was getting at. "Hey Tae. I'm gonna get a drink, you need a new one?"

He jumped as if surprised she was there, and she snorted as if unsurprised.

"That would be great, thanks Sierra."

She nudged you as she left.

"Get it, girl," she whispered in your ear wickedly, making you cough and splutter before she slapped your ass and left, cackling. God, your roommate was a menace.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Taehyung said with a smile, and you had to smile back, a little hypnotized by the stars in his eyes. He really was beautiful.

"I thought it was time to give partying another shot," you replied sheepishly, still a little embarrassed by how your previous night out had ended.

"I'm glad," he said softly, something in his eyes making your stomach flutter. "Sorry for spilling on you."

You had actually forgotten, but now that he brought it up you were all too aware of the stain on your shirt and the stickiness of beer on your skin.

"It's my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going," you assured him.

"Let me help you get cleaned up at least," he offered, grabbing your hand before you could protest and setting off to find a bathroom. Your fingers slotted perfectly into his, and he tugged you easily through the crowd. Phoebe's advice rang clear in your mind, but you silenced it as you followed. You were certainly attracted to Taehyung, but he was way out of your league… right?

He found a bathroom and ushered you inside, shutting the door behind him. It dulled the sound of merrymaking outside, and the sudden intimacy brought another slew of jittery panic into your chest. One that was clearly only one sided as Taehyung glanced around before finding a roll of paper towels.

He ripped off a sheet, running it under the faucet before handing it to you.

"Unless you want my help," he said with a wink, waggling his eyebrows. You laughed and slapped his shoulder before accepting his offering, too intent on cleaning yourself to notice the way his eyes watched you hungrily. You dabbed at the shirt as well, before deciding it was a lost cause and that the beer would probably come out in the wash.

"Thanks, Tae," you said with a smile, tossing the crumpled cloth in the trash and looking up to suddenly find him right in front of you. He was close enough that you had to look up to meet his eyes, and you stepped backwards with a surprised "eep" when your back hit the sink counter.

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" he asked intently, not moving from where he was standing. You were suddenly all too aware of your exposed skin, of how gorgeous he looked, of how his dark, mesmerizing eyes were locked on your own.

"N-not very much, we just got here a little while ago," you stammered, staring back at him as your pulse sped up. His lips curved into a devastating smirk and he stepped forward, closing the scant distance between your bodies.

"Good, then I can finally do this," he murmured, one warm, gentle hand coming up to cup your cheek as you felt your eyes go as wide as saucers. Then he was leaning in, and those plush lips of his were coming closer, and closer.

They were warm and soft, and you felt your eyelashes flutter shut as you leaned into the feeling. He backed away almost immediately, and your stomach dropped. Was he disappointed? Were you a bad kisser? But it had only lasted a couple seconds, were people really able to tell that quickly?

"Was that okay?" he whispered, cutting through your panic. He was gazing at you with an uncertainty that mirrored your own, and your heart sang with the realization that he was nervous. You felt your own lips twitch into a smile and you nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Yeah," you whispered, standing up on your tippy-toes and tilting your face up in an open invitation.

This time, the kiss was less tentative, and Taehyung's free arm snaked around your waist to pull you snugly into him. You gasped at the press of his warm, warm body against yours, and he took the opportunity to pull your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling slightly. Oh. That was… very pleasant.

"You're so pretty," Taehyung murmured, pulling away. You almost asked why he stopped, until his lips dragged across your jaw to press light, fluttery kisses against your skin that left hot embers in their wake. The new sensation made you whimper, and he froze as his grip on your waist tightened. Fuck, were you not supposed to do that? It was getting hard to think straight when he was holding you so close, whispering sweet words in your ear.

Then he latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck and he sucked, sending white hot shudders down your spine. A moan left your mouth before you could stop it, and Taehyung groaned before capturing your mouth again.

He took advantage of your parted lips to glide his tongue against yours, and another mortifying sound escaped your throat at the sensation. It was wet, hot, and slimy, and should have felt gross, but instead you found yourself clinging to his shirt as your legs turned to jelly.

"Fuck, you sound so good," Taehyung groaned, shifting from your mouth to run his tongue along the shell of your ear.

"T-Taehyung," you gasped breathily, not exactly wanting to stop but worried about him taking this further. His hands slid down to your butt to press your hips against his, and with a jolt you realized he was hard against your thigh. He felt your body stiffen, and immediately pulled back.

"Sorry, too much?" he asked, his voice a husky rasp.

"A little," you admitted, swallowing down the desire to find out what else he had to offer. As much as you were enjoying yourself, you were already starting to feel a little overwhelmed. And the way Taehyung was currently looking at you made you want to both kiss him forever and run away and hide. "Maybe we should get back to the party."

"I'm sorry," he said again, looking away. "I've wanted to do that forever, I got a little carried away."

Something warm glowed in your chest at his words, and impulsively you grabbed his shirt to pull him in for another kiss. The dazed way he grinned at you when you let him go was more than enough to bolster your confidence, and this time you were the one who intertwined your fingers with his.

"Let's go find Sierra."

Finding your roommate ended up being more difficult than you'd thought, and Taehyung reluctantly agreed that it would be easier for you two to split up to find her.

"Don't forget about me while you're gone," he said with a pout, brushing his lips against the knuckles of your hand before finally letting go. You watched him leave, stomach positively giddy with butterflies, before you turned around as well. A clammy hand gripped your wrist roughly, and you jumped, whirling to face the culprit.

"Saw you leave the bathroom with that guy," came the obnoxious, unwelcome voice of ChadBrad. He smirked at your frown, ignoring the way you tried to shake off his hand. What was he doing? Why was he looking at you like that?

"It's not really any of your business, is it?" you replied coldly, but to your alarm he just looked even more smug. His grip tightened, and you felt anxiety rise like bile in the back of your throat.

"So you're the type that likes to play hard to get, is it? I like that," he said with a leering grin, stepping into your personal space. You backed away as far as you could with your arm still captive, and gave him your best glare before scanning behind him to see if Taehyung was still around.

Please let him still be here, you begged silently. To no avail. You were alone, and no one else in the room was even looking in your direction. And the music was so loud you doubted even a scream would catch anyone's attention.

"Let go," you ordered through gritted teeth, trying to sound more confident than you felt. He merely matched each step you tried to take away from him, and when your back hit the wall you realized you were trapped.

"Trusting your safety to two college boys you don't know very well… well, I'm glad the night ended alright, but it would break my heart if anything happened to you."

Your professor's words echoed in your head as you tried to think of a way out of this situation, wishing you had listened better to his advice.

"Good girls say please," ChadBrad taunted, caging you between his arms. "But you're a bad girl, huh?"

Fucking ew. Despite the obvious disgust on your face, he still seemed to think it was going well, and you caught a whiff of gross beer breath before his clammy lips were on yours.

It was revolting, and you felt your skin crawl as you tried to push him off frantically. You kept your lips sealed tightly shut against the nauseating prod of his tongue, but the asshole wouldn't fucking move. Your heart was pounding for completely different reasons than with Taehyung, and it was getting harder to breathe through your nose as you pushed and pushed to no avail. Finally, you did the only thing you could think of, and kneed him as hard as you could between his legs.

That worked, and he leaped away with a yelp.

"What the fuck, you bitch," he spat at you, doubling over as you scrambled away from him, massaging your wrist and breathing hard. You could breathe through your mouth now, why didn't it feel like you were getting any air?

You didn't bother to gift him with a response, too focused on getting the fuck away for something as trivial as a final word. You stumbled through the house, desperate for Sierra or Taehyung or fucking anyone familiar at this point.

To your relief, you spotted a familiar head of hair near the kitchen and almost tackled Sierra in your haste to get to her.

"Whoa there, cowboy!" she said with a giggle as she righted herself, though her smile slid off when she saw your expression. "What's wrong?"

Your heart settled at her reassuring face, and as the adrenaline ebbed away you suddenly felt a lump in your throat. You opened your mouth to respond, then closed it when you realized frustration and anxiety were welling up behind your eyes.

You swallowed and took a deep breath, but all you could do was sniffle to try to keep back the disgusting feeling clawing your throat. Sierra's eyes widened and she wrapped a protective arm around you. You obeyed blindly as she steered you through the throngs of people, focused solely on not freaking out in front of a huge audience.

"Babe, talk to me, what happened?"

With a start you realized you were on the lawn outside and looking into Sierra's warm, worried brown eyes.

"I - that guy - "

To your utter mortification, that was all you got out before the tears came in earnest. Your face was immediately pressed into a perfumed, ample chest as your roommate hugged you and rubbed soothing circles into your back.

"It's okay, you're okay. Just take your time," Sierra said comfortingly as you whimpered and hiccuped into her shirt. Fuck, why were you crying so much? Nothing bad had really even happened, you were fine! Why were you being such a crybaby? First Dr. Kim, now here?

Finally, you calmed down enough to tell Sierra what happened, and her expression went from concerned to livid.

"And where the fuck was Taehyung?" she asked calmly, making your eyes widen. Her voice was even, but her eyes flashed with what could only be described as castrative fury.

"We only split up for a second to look for you!" you explained hastily, and suddenly you were the one rubbing soothing circles into her back. "We were gonna meet back up in the kitchen."

Sierra relaxed slightly, but tension still thrummed under her skin. You wracked your brain for something to calm her down, but crying had made your head irritatingly foggy.

"Oh hey, you found her!"

You both looked to see Taehyung smiling, though it faded when he saw the anger on Sierra's face and the tear stains on yours. He took a step forward, only to stop immediately when Sierra stepped in front of you. Despite it being unnecessary, you felt a surge of affection for your roommate.

"What happened?" he asked softly as Sierra crossed her arms and tapped her foot at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Some asshole assaulted her, that's what happened," she snapped, her words cracking through the air like a whip. You winced and tugged at her arm.

Taehyung's eyes went wide with shock and he looked at you with worry.

"I'm so sorry, [y/n], did I - " he began, looking horrified and guilty. You realized he thought Sierra was talking about himself, and you shook your head frantically.

"No! It wasn't you!" you protested immediately, stepping past Sierra's protection to grab Taehyung's hand. "It was someone else." He only looked mildly relieved, and his eyes were still filled with concern.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Embarrassment threatened to drag you under and you winced. It wasn't his fault at all. You were just the one who was so pathetic that you apparently couldn't handle five minutes alone, and then cried like an idiot even though you weren't even hurt.

You felt Sierra's hand on your shoulder, and you looked at her questioningly.

"Will you be okay with him for a second?" she whispered in your ear, so quietly you knew Taehyung wouldn't catch it. "I forgot something inside."

You nodded, giving her a wobbly smile you hoped was reassuring. Apparently it was good enough, though she shot Taehyung a very stern glare.

"Behave, I know where you live," she said with deadly seriousness. The tension was broken by your chuckle, and both of your friends relaxed a hair. "Okay, I'll be right back."

The two of you were left alone, and suddenly you found yourself unable to look at anything but your feet.

"I'm s-sorry," you hiccuped, sniffing as you tried to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay. You hated yourself for crying so easily. You swiped at your cheeks and remembered the way Dr. Kim had dabbed your face so gently in his office. You should have listened to him. "I ruined another night out for you guys."

"What are you talking about?" asked Taehyung gently, squeezing your hand. "I always have a great time with you."

You shook your head in disbelief, still not able to meet his eyes. He was sweet to try to make you feel better, but you couldn't find it in yourself to believe him. Had it really been just a few minutes ago that you had been giddily thinking about his lips against yours?

"Hey."

Taehyung put his forehead against yours, but you didn't look up to face him. You couldn't.

"Getting to kiss you already made this the best night of the year so far," he murmured in your ear, and you wanted to believe him despite yourself. He pulled you into his chest and you took a deep breath, letting the warm, spicy smell of his cologne wash over you. "And getting to spend time with you out here makes it even better."

"Even though I'm being a buzzkill?" you asked hesitantly, voice muffled as you timidly wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Nothing can kill my buzz unless it's Jimin having a hair meltdown," Taehyung announced confidently, and you found yourself smiling into his chest.

"Thanks, Tae," you whispered, finally tilting your face up to look at him properly. He grinned happily back at you, squeezing you tight.

"There you are!" he exclaimed goofily, then shocked you into laughter by tickling your exposed sides.

"Don't do that, you jerk!" you scolded, swatting at his hands before he could get more than a few giggles out of you. He smiled and put his hands up in surrender and opened his mouth to say something, when rapid footfalls distracted you.

"Let's go!" said Sierra urgently, grabbing both you and Taehyung's hands and dragging you stumbling behind her.

"W-what?" you spluttered, suddenly very grateful the two of you had worn sneakers to this party. Why the hell was Sierra walking so fast?

"I poured all the Smirnoff Ices into that dipshit’s sneaker collection," your roommate revealed, turning back to you with a devious grin. Her eyes were alight with tipsy misbehavior and justice. "I want to be well clear before he finds out."

Sierra's admission startled a snort of laughter out of you, and Taehyung looked at her in outright awe. Perhaps this night hadn't ended so badly, after all.

Still, you decided you'd heed your professor's advice and steer clear of parties in the future.

~~~~~

Next | Masterlist

Tags: @moonleeai @random-and-out-of-context @amenjiminsan @innebulae @lonewolfsinclair @seoqity @lilacdreams-00 @chowb @shescharlie @mazmaz30 @definetlythinkimanalien @seokjins-luigi @lucci-girl @xicanacorpse @bighitbabie @8loominghell @jung-nika-hoseok @staradorned @zealouslightcookiebasketball @kissme-ornot

#bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts jin #bts x reader #bts x you #kim seokjin x reader #bts x y/n #jin x reader #bts yandere #yandere seokjin

132 notes · View notes

seasonsbloom · 2 years

Note

Warning: Mentions of needles & Tom Cruise. Also, so called flamboyant personality.

Am I still a little zonked out while typing this? Mayhaps...

It goes like this:

Ego Anon has to spend a few hours with a health care professional for reasons not important to this story.

There are unfortunately needles involved and Ego Anon hates needles with an undying passion. It is literally a case of 'Let me suffer and die, but do not stick that thing into me.'

(Some people call it a phobia. Ego calls it common sense.)

(Some people also call Ego a drama queen, but that's besides the point. The world is my stage and all that.)

Now, everything being so unfortunate and all, aforementioned HCP chats with Ego and distracts her while the claws of Satan himself is buried in her skin. Ego is sipping on a Powerade (idk how to describe it. It's very nice and full of sugar. Blue ones are the best.) and idly chatting back when the occasion allows it.

They land on the fact that Ego was awake early in the morning - very uncommon for Ego, who would enjoy what is medically defined as a coma at this point - and Ego talks about this amazing story she read while she couldn't sleep and recounts that she remembered there being bears in it but upon rereading it found no trace of them (kind of tragic really but okay).

HCP wants to know about this story. Ego does not want to tell about this story because even with a light fever, Ego knows what some people think about fanfics.

HCP persists and Ego buckles because HCP is kinda cute, Ego is kinda feverish and HCP brought Ego a blue Powerade when Ego mentioned that she liked them.

Ego shows the story/fic to HCP.

HCP loves it because HCP is also an avid fanfic reader and surprisingly shares Ego's views on the American military.

"So who is your favorite pilot? Prejudices aside?" Ego asks, still sipping the blue liquid of the gods.

Ego expects Phoenix. Hangman. Coyote. Rooster. Even maybe Bob.

"Maverick," HCP answers happily, like they are not betraying everything Ego previously thought they stood for. "And you? You look like a Hangman girl."

(more like Hangman whore but whatever)

"Fanboy," Ego manages, still reeling from the utter, utter betrayal she just experienced.

(Sidenote: Ego is actually a hardcore Fanboy girl. Come on, his name is literally Fanboy.)

HCP continues making conversation and taking proper care of Ego who now doesn't know what exactly to do with herself. What normal person likes Tom Cruise?

(What normal person likes a character just because of their callsign, you hypocrite?)

Anyway. What's your take on hot health care professionals who likes Tom Cruise characters? Who also brings you blue powerades.

Also, also, also, it goes without saying that I am now fine, if a little traumatized because who the flying fuck likes Maverick in a carnal way?

okay first of all I am SO sorry for answering this so late idk what was going on with me to be completely honest ajdjjdje

Second of all omg I hope you’re feeling much much much better by now, sending you all the best :(((

Thirdly….. HEKSNFJSKDJF this story is so WILD idek where to start 🥴🥴🥴 you actually made me cackle ngl I’m like… obsessed with you? Also HCP liking Tom Cruise carnally……… goodbye 🚪🚶‍♀️

#HALFNDKNDNDLANDJDKW #may answers

3 notes · View notes

everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

the hangover

frat jj x reader

words: 1225

warnings: alcohol, swearing, excessive softness

synopsis: jj takes care of his very hungover girlfriend

a/n: please drink responsibly, unlike depicted here

i also got asked to tag @girlsru1eboysdroo1 and if anyone else wants to be tagged in frat jj stuff let me know, i wasn’t sure if that was a thing people wanted or not.

You woke up with a loud groan, almost immediately not wanting to be awake anymore. Vision still swimming, you quickly came to the conclusion that you were still a little drunk. The bed started to move and you realized that you were in fact laying fully on top of JJ.

He ran a hand through your tangled hair, careful not to tug, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before whispering, “Morning sweetheart, how you feeling?”

“I’m definitely still drunk,” you slurred before burying your face back into his neck.

You felt his throat vibrate with his laughs as he ran a hand up and down your back soothingly. He scratched the exposed skin of the back of neck gently with his other hand and said, “Well you did black out last night. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Your brain was moving extra slow, so it took a few extra seconds to process his words, and then even longer to sort your thoughts out. After a minute or so, you finally answered, “Shots with John B.”

JJ laughed loudly and you winced, clutching your tender head. He quieted quickly, “Sorry, love, it’s just, you drank so much more after that.”

“Fuck, was I embarrassing?”

“Depends on if you count ranting drunkenly on the floor about the flaws in the current education system embarrassing.”

Clearing your throat as a blush rose to your face, you asked, “Was I at least making good points?”

“I thought you fucking killed it. Your next argument was a little more incoherent and flawed.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, almost not wanting to ask.

JJ brushed his thumb across your cheekbone until you met his gaze. He chuckled when he caught your eye, “That one was about how Klay Thompson is the best shooter in NBA history.”

“I see no flaws in that,” you countered, putting on hand on his chest to push yourself into a more upright position.

“Of course you don’t,” he said placatingly, not wanting to start a fight.

Before you could reopen that argument, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and the fight quickly drained out of your brain. You pushed further into his embrace and mumbled, “Will you take me to Waffle House?”

He nodded and you smiled, pushing yourself up fully and climbed out of bed. Almost sending you immediately to the floor. JJ jumped up to catch you as you stumbled, “Woah there, drunky. You’re not recovered yet.”

“Tequila can choke,” you muttered, feet finally back under you.

With a laugh, JJ helped you to the bathroom and sat you on the toilet seat. You pouted up at him as he fixed your toothbrush and handed it to you to brush your teeth. When you just stared at him, he pushed it toward your mouth, “Come on, babe, you gotta get ready.”

Glaring at him the entire time, you lazily brushed your teeth. He finished before you and pulled your hair back to start helping you get the rest of the makeup around your eyes with a makeup wipe. You stopped moving, toothbrush hanging out the side of your mouth, and relaxed under his gentle touch, almost falling back asleep.

JJ nudged you awake and guided you to the sink to spit and to rinse your face. You motioned toward the hairbrush and he rolled his eyes, smile playing on his lips, as he undid your hair and brushed it out as softly as he could manage.

“Sweatshirt?” he asked you when the two of you were finished in the bathroom and you nodded. JJ tossed you one of his and you pulled it over your head. It got stuck and you made a helpless noise, body going limp instead of trying to fight it. He straightened it out and pulled it the rest of the way on for you, ruffling your hair affectionately when you got your head through.

“Waffle House now?” you asked, one track mind in full force.

He grabbed his keys from the bedside table and a pair of slides for you from the closet. You followed him, hand clasped in his, out the door and to his truck, where he helped you in and buckled you. The alcohol was finally wearing off, and you could feel a headache starting up. It was bound to be hell in less than 30 minutes.

But of course, JJ being the best boyfriend that he was, pulled into a gas station and hopped out, “Be right back, okay?”

You nodded and sure enough he was gone three minutes tops. He came back with a bottle of blue Powerade in his hand and a small bottle of Tylenol. You untwisted the cap and knocked back two pills before telling him earnestly, “Powerade is better than Gatorade.”

JJ laughed and pulled out of the parking lot, “I know, love. Let’s go get some food.”

The nearest Waffle House was just down the street from the gas station, so the two of you were there in no time. It was always pretty popular on Sunday mornings with the hungover college crowd, and you had to wait a few minutes before a table opened up.

JJ slid in across from you and ordered for the two of you immediately, already knowing your go-to hangover brunch. By the time the food came out, your stomach was growling and you tucked into the hash browns immediately.

He watched, amused, as you devoured the hash browns and waffle in front of you while he slowly ate his eggs. You were sure it was an amusing sight, but you didn’t care. Wordlessly, he slid two of his four bacon strips across the table to you and you devoured those too.

There was a line out the door, so you didn’t linger at the table. Both of you slid out the booth and you stepped close, grabbing his hand and hanging onto his arm as he led you to the register to pay. You weren’t drunk anymore, but you could tell it was going to be a goofy hangover day where your brain wasn’t functioning up to its full speed.

The rest of your Powerade was still in the car and you chugged the rest as soon as you buckled up. JJ laughed, watching you out of the corner of his eye as he pulled into the Dunkin drive-thru line. As if he could sense you about to lean forward and unbuckle, he put one of his hands on your thigh, “Relax, I know your order.”

Leaning back with a pout, you pinched the skin on the back of his hand and he pinched your thigh back in retaliation. He nailed your order, and soon the two of you were back on the road, you happily sipping an iced coffee with almond milk and two shots of French vanilla.

When he parked in front of the house, you grabbed his hand before he could get out, “Thanks, J.”

He smiled at you, “Anytime. I mean it’s the least I can do when you put up with my shit all the time. Plus, I love you too much not to.”

And you couldn’t not kiss him. He kept it short, pulling away pretty quickly before pressing gentle kisses along your cheekbone and forehead.

“I love you too,” you told him, earnestly.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank fluff #frat!jj #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #sigma chi!jj

269 notes · View notes

softgrungeprophet · 3 years

Photo

OKAY

first thing’s first, credit for the resources i used:

"Soda Bottle Orange Liquid" by smart61, Creative Commons Attribution

to make the clouded liquid i used this set of nodes by this dude on this stackexchange post: https://blender.stackexchange.com/a/190931

for the clear liquid i followed the blender guru glass coffee cup tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdWUjEMzDhg

I mostly fiddled around with the colors, and while that took.... hours.... especially trying to find a way to render brominated soda that i liked (didn’t figure that one out lol).... most of the hard work was of course already done for me via that 3D model. i didn’t make the model. just to reiterate, it’s by smart61 on sketchfab.

okay so, what is this, you may be asking, or not asking, idk.

It’s soda!

actually i’m gonna put this under a cut so if you want to read my random Soda Worldbuilding for Sulum’s country (called Vadpukh) you can read ahead:

I wanted to do this 3d so i wouldn’t have to draw it by hand because i think that would have been awfully time consuming...... so i did this in Blender rendered in Cycles with the denoise filter on and using the indoors world... thingy for the lighting reflections (cause i felt it looked better with that than the plain render lighting i had)

I wanted to get a better idea of what the soda colors might look like from Vadpukh, where Sulum hails from, and I wanted to be able to have examples of them for reference for.... some reason? idk i got fixated on it. spent all day fucking with blender.

1: TOP row: these are yer red sodas... and watermelon. Why is watermelon soda yellow?! Because where Sulum is from, sweet watermelon is yellow, and citron melon (not used for soda) is white. From left to right: watermelon, strawberry, redcurrant, pomegranate, and blackberry.

Now, Vadpukh is... I suppose the best description is that it’s a semi-temperate coastal area that’s like... if the french riviera was a little more north? There are lots of berries available and so there are probably a lot of other berry flavors using these four shades of red but do not ask me to list them out. These are essentially just the most popular, quintessential Berries. and watermelon.

2: coconut soda comes in four different colors. blue is the classic, cause boy do they love food coloring, something about the ocean being blue, coconut crabs, and: marketing/fun. clear is moderately common but less fun and recognizable than blue. brominated white coconut soda is usually more of a coconut milky type flavor, less coconut water... but really not that much different. PINK coconut soda is (F)AU(X) NATUREL because coconut water turns pink when it oxygenates (i think) and some brands want to emulate that naturalness with food coloring. Though there are totally all-natural sparkling coconut waters that are pink too, so, check the ingredients i guess.

Also right here i’m going to mention it: Brominated Vegetable Oil. It’s not good for you. Most countries--nay, continents--had already banned it in drinks and various US soft drinks have also recently stopped using it (ie mtn dew, powerade, etc.) Because it’s bad for you.

Vadpukh is a fun country. Vadpukh is a semi-socialist democratic country which is attempting to recover from the problem at the root of all problems: Capitalism. It’s sort of working but there are still a lot of problems, notably in the health industry, politics, and the food industry. The country is notorious for a scandal with human flesh from like 20 years ago (one time, someone finds human meat in their pork, and suddenly that’s all anyone talks about.) Anyway. They’re at a very weird juxtaposition of like, still using BVO in a LOT of drinks, using a lot of artificial and natural food coloring alike, but also are really far ahead on the green-packaging front which is why actually these plastic bottles are wrong. Most soda is packaged in metal bottles or cans, or glass bottles, though plastic is used to some extent too. I just needed it to be clear.

Anyway. so yeah. lots of brominated sodas.

3: a whole row of grapes. you got your typical purplish-bluish (depends on manufacturer) grape soda made out of those kinds of grapes that are real dark, usually in a dark brown bottle but not always. then, green grape soda which is often straight up the color of mountain dew but it’s hard to tell cause it’s always in a green bottle. then you have your WHITE grape soda which i believe is just a culinary differentiation in which wine grapes are white and table grapes are green but anyway white grape soda, while also in a green bottle, is usually a light straw color or sometimes a pinkish gold... usually similar flavors tho. then we have our second blue soda: anise grape. It’s hard to tell partially because it’s a very deep blue, but it is, also, brominated. idk how that would look irl. the alt color is teal. why? because i was looking at anise syrups and liqueurs and thought, hm, these are all a kind of cloudy yellow, yellow plus blue equals--well, green, but in smaller amounts, teal... also brominated.

ah, the colors of gatorade fierce grape and gatorade frost arctic blitz.

4: stone fruit sodas, aka, the best kind? i’ve never had plum or apricot soda but it sounds good. Peach-rhubarb, a bit red, a bit peachy. Regular peach soda is also this color sometimes. Plum is yellow! Because many plums are yellow inside. This is a more muted amber color but it can also be as yellow as the watermelon soda depending on who’s making it. There’s also: green plum soda because I tried greengage plums and they are VERY sweet so i figured that would suit a soda well. And apricot. Color ranges from calmer more light oranges to full on orange crush neon orange, and it’s also used for plain peach sodas as well. and maybe some more specific oranges like tangerines? idk

moving on

5: Citrus. ALL the citrus sodas are brominated, which made me suffer because I could not render them to look nice at all. Grapefruit soda is a lovely shade of pink usually but it can sometimes come in more salmony, more red, or rarely yellowish-white (like Squirt). orange soda is supposed to be like, the color of orange juice... i struggled with it and it’s basically impossible to find pictures of how it should look because most orange soda is the color of kraft mac and cheese. maybe the best color comparison would be like.... if you mixed lemonade with a bit of OJ. lemon soda, lime soda, and lemon-lime soda (they all exist) all tend to look the same, generally resembling the cloudy whiteness of... Squirt. again. They can come in clear bottles, but lemon soda sometimes comes in sunny yellow bottles, and lime or lemon-lime can come in green ones. (like i said, usually glass, but sometimes plastic)

6: using citrus as a weird stepping point... the Herbaceous Sodas (and pistachio cause i had nowhere else to put it and it was green) For those who like a bracing soda, juniper-grapefruit. I don’t think I would like it but I’m sure some would. It’s usually the same color as regular grapefruit, sometimes a little more orangey. Pine soda is next, and includes stuff like juniper but also spruce. It was... basically impossible to replicate the spruce beers I was looking at but it’s roughly a sort of semi-cloudy translucent straw color... like--and i am realizing ironically the reference i was using was not spruce beer--spruce soda co’s hopped cola. OOPS.

Pistachio and pistachio-rose are both VERY popular flavors in Vadpukhi food and that extends to soda--both flavors of soda tend to be that pale pistachio green, either way. And the other green soda: cucumber. Like the pic says, sometimes it’s colorless. Basically, comes in the same weird color ranges as irl cucumber soda, ranging from colorless to a light minty green to that hulkly abomination of a color in the pic. flavor i’m sure wildly varies. i’ve tried dry cucumber soda, it’s pretty good (if unusual). I have also tried cucumber-lime gatorade, which tastes like extremely sweet pickle juice (bad) (it COULD be good but the pickle flavor... i can’t do it)

7: FLOWERS. lavender and rose are, again, very common flavors. they smell good, they taste good. Not pictured, but rosehip soda is probably one of the many red sodas you can find. But this floral section is lavender two ways: lavender soda that is a pale purple color itself, and clear lavender soda packaged in a lovely purple bottle. Then, rose, which is generally always a lovely soft shade of pink tho sometimes includes lemon or orange flavoring (at which point it probably is made cloudy to communicate that)

8: NOT colas. Vadpukh doesn’t have cola sodas (as in, based on the flavor of the kola nut) except in some specialty/ethnic shops and restaurants (or made by individuals.) This is the brown soda section. First up we have barley-malt and we have hops soda. They look very similar and are often packaged similarly, ie brown glass bottles or brown cans, and there can be a lot of overlap in ingredients ie a lot of the hops sodas have malt syrup. However most of the time malt soda is used to distinguish like.... malted milk powder flavor... but soda. Hops is beer soda. lol. Then it’s caramel soda which as I wrote on the pic is somewhat like vanilla cream soda but it doesn’t generally have vanilla in it. It’s caramel flavored. Delicious. Cinnamon soda is cinnamon spiced and often includes other spices as well, including ginger...

Then there’s honey soda which I have two nearly identical renders of lol. Most honey soda is a light ambery-yellow color, roughly the color of honey, maybe less warm tones... It can be salted, or spiced, combined with apple flavor... The other honey soda, barely distinguishable in color, is usually a warmer, redder amber tone and is used for things like berry-honey sodas.

NOT PICTURED: Tea soda which I completely skipped over on accident, sparkling juices (including apple and pear and everything else, more natural, less sweet, less dyes, no bromination), apple and pear soda which i guess i forgot too for some reason but lbr sparkling apple cider is better anyway. Ginger ales and lemonades. Like. Those are fairly self explanatory. Ginger ale ranges from straw to amber, ranges in spiciness, etc... lemonade can be plain, or pink, or lime, or what have you, similar to lemon or lemon-lime sodas but with extra flavors like pomegranate or peach.

Also not pictured are the Vadpukh “cream” sodas or milk sodas. These are not like American-style creme sodas, there’s no vanilla or anything. They’re more akin to Milkis or like... Calpico if Calpico wasn’t yogurt flavored. They’re carbonated sodas with dairy in them basically, like an ice cream float without the extra work. They are almost universally somewhat opaque, come in many of the same flavors as above, and tend to be like, soft pastels or off-whites. ie, orange milk soda would probably be the same color as mango Calpis. A lot of people just make milk soda at home either by adding ice cream to soda or by adding heavy cream or milk, but the convenience of pre-bottled is nice. Plus it usually stays carbonated longer than if you pour your soda full of milk...

There is ALSO a sparkling carbonated yogurt drink similar to Calpis btw... which looks similar to the milk sodas but is tangier, fermented... probiotic. (i could drink it without destroying my digestive system)

Sparkling water, mineral water and club soda are also all very common and some come in flavor infusions. The Vadpukh citizens like bubbles. A lot.

There are also non-carbonated drinks like electrolyte drinks (tho those often also have carbonated versions), flavored milk, nesquik-style carob drink powder... and teas and stuff but I didn’t want to spend like, the whole week doing this 😂 Milk tea is real big (but not like boba, no chunks or tapiocas (Tragic), just milk tea and fruit milk teas and stuff)

What else... wine.... kefir... lassi-style drinks... fruit juices (usually unclarified but sometimes clarified)....

Anyway if you want to know, Sulum’s favorite soda flavor is basically any of the berries--blackberry, pomegranate, apple-berry, and darjeeling (rasp)berry especially. they love a blended darjeeling raspberry slush in the hot summer... they also like the simplicity of a nice ice-cold, unfiltered apple juice.

sometimes they like to add spicy pepper flavors. lol.

OH MAN I bet they have spicy pepper sodas...

#long post #soda #sulum #aunts from michigan #oc stuff

5 notes · View notes

girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Forbidden Spicy Gatorade Chronicles Chapter One

A/n: Ok, so the cult is getting stronger by the minute so if you haven’t been introduced yet, don’t be offended! I’ll try to go through everyone and introduce you in the next chapter. Erica (@the-never-ending-void) has asked not to be included in this fic.

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,382

Warnings: If you’re reading this, you already know what’s about to pop off

Lilah poked Cadence’s shoulder who promptly rolled over. Lilah poked her several more times, a bit more aggressively. Grumbling Cadence sat up quickly and smacked her head on the top of the bunk bed. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings, taking in the strangely black, purple, and gold aesthetic room.

“Why’d you wake me up?”

“You got a notification,” Lilah said, eyes wide open, handing her the phone, slowly walking out of their shared room.

Cadence furrowed her brows, unlocking the phone before calling out to her roommate. “Wait, how long have you been up?”

“OREOS!” she called back. “Where are the keys?”

“On the kitchen counter,” Cadence replied, checking her emails. 1 unread message from Gray, the AI developer who she made small talk with during lunch breaks.

Dear Cadence,

Good evening! There’s a new play coming out on Mainstreet, called The Facade, and I was approached by the team to create a promotional piece. I was hoping you could help, and we would split the rewards 50/50. The play is about a murder crime, which is plotted out in a series of intricate riddles. The plot twist: the lead detective was the murderer, and had been delaying her trial while she was pretending to gather evidence, and stealing from a suspect to gain enough money to flee. And her second in command was funding the plots without knowing that her boss was the mastermind behind it all.

Ok, now that my boss has read above the cut we can talk freely. The offer is real, and I WOULD like to split it 50/50, I just can’t stand talking all formal, y’know? Anyway, since you said you do animations and stuff as a side gig, I thought maybe you could make the animations, and I’ll edit and do the social networking? Idk, I’m just spitballing here, let me know what you think.

Also, Lilah directed me towards this email, she’s really good at tracking people down.

Sorry if I made any spelling mistakes, I haven’t slept in weeks,

Gray

“Huh,” Cadence huffed, glancing at the clock. 3 AM. She had time. So, grabbing her IPad, she opened Procreate and got to work. The Facade. Sounds interesting enough. But what to draw? A lock perhaps? A silhouette of the main character? Before she could decide, her phone buzzed again, a voice recording this time, from Lilah.

“Hey, so I just ran into two of the actresses from The Facade and they said they want to talk to you about it so you can create a better promotional vid, meet me at the local library, k bye.”

Cadence wished on a shooting star that at least an hour had passed by so the buses would be running. But how wrong she was. It was 3 AM. It was raining. And the library was at least a mile away.

“This should be fun,” she mumbled, grabbing her set of keys, her IPad, and a raincoat before jogging the mile it took to get to the library.

_______

By the time Cadence arrived her hair was drenched and she was so out of breath and tired she thought she was going to pass out. She looked for any sign of her roommate, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, she saw three people sitting at a table chatting freely and crying laughing. The librarian wasn’t fazed in the slightest. On the contrary, they seemed to be enjoying it, leaning over the library’s registry system, talking with them. Quickly Googling “The Facade,” Cadence confirmed that the two ladies were the actresses from the play. The other one offered occasional comments, mostly just watching the occurrences that went on. Social anxiety kicked in and told her to run in the other direction, but she really needed the money. She forced herself to approach them.

“Hey, I’m Cadence,” I introduce myself nervously. “Lilah said you wanted to speak to me about promoting your play?”

“Cadence! Lilah mentioned your animations, and we thought it’d be a new, eye-catching way to get our work out there,” the first one chirped. “I’m Molly, by the way. I play the detective’s second in command.”

“And I’m Ivy,” the other one greeted. “I play the lead.”

Cadence expected the third person to introduce themself next, but the librarian took the initiative. “Hello, fellow human, you may address me as SPEENS, I accept liver sacrifices.”

“They do that all the time,” the third person assured her. “Tater, by the way. I’m not in the play, I’m just working on a novel with Molly. We met up here to talk to good ‘ol Speens when these bit-”

“Language,” Molly warned.

“When these lovely individuals,” Tater corrected, “decided to make this a research sesh for the book. As if we needed more work. I’m free to fly wherever the wind takes me.”

“Amen to that, sibling,” Speens responded solemnly, pulling five wine glasses and vodka out from under the desk like a bartender. Cadence looked confused, but not against it. “Say, where’s the rest of the crew? Lynn, Gray, Farris, and the lot of them?”

“Farris doesn’t work on the set,” Ivy reminded her. “They’re an archaeologist. Holes makes the sets for us.”

Speens wrinkled their nose, seemingly in disgust. “And the others?”

“Well, if you can take a break, we can meet up with them at the theatre. Even Farris, since I heard their last trip was a bust,” Molly offered.

Without a second thought, Speens put up a sign that read “The Librarian is Out.”

“Do they-”

“All the time,” Ivy nodded. “It’s kinda their thing.”

“But, yeah, Farris and Connor tend to hang around the set,” Molly explained. “They don’t bother anyone, no one bothers them. They’re a bit older, kinda like the authority figures of the group.”

“If authority figures would let you make a dumba-”

“Tater,” Ivy nudged.

Tater changed their wording. “-unwise move in order to see what would happen.”

“They’re responsible for us without being responsible for us, if that makes sense,” Ivy commented. “Let’s get going though, before someone blows something up.” She shot a sideways glance at Speens, who put a hand up in surrender.

________

Ivy swung open the doors to the theatre and immediately had to duck for cover. “What the HELL, Connor?”

They were holding onto some theatre seats, zooming back and forth the row on rollerblades, occasionally losing balance and having to sit down. After a particularly messy turn-around, they decided to crawl over to the red carpeted steps and laid there for a moment. Farris was perched in a seat a row down, calming watching as Connor seemed to be having an existential crisis. Upon seeing Tater and Cadence, Farris got up, carefully stepping around Connor. “New kids?”

“Farris, this is Tater, and that’s Cadence,” Ivy helped. “They’re helping us promote the play.”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted,” they vowed, though Tater looked confused. “What? I don’t make the rules. Oh, wait, I’m supposed to be the responsible one…. Ok, so I make the rules, but they can be bent if the alternative’s interesting enough. Right, Connor?”

“Uh huh,” he called from the floor tiredly. If he hadn’t spoken, he would have been deemed dead.

“Lynn and the rest of the gang are in the back,” Farris informed them, pulling a skateboard from under their seat and helping Connor stand. Connor’s rollerblades flailed a bit as he struggled to get up, but his arm was slung around Farris’s shoulder, supporting him.

“DO A KICKFLIP,” Connor prompted, his words slurred.

“Are you kidding, I haven’t skateboarded since I was six, I need an actual skate park to practice that,” Farris recounted. “And how drunk are you?”

“Yes,” he responded, giggling in a hiccupy way. “Does anyone have more vodka?”

“I got you fam,” Speens said, pulling out a suitcase of alcohol from thin air.

“Anyways,” Ivy interjected, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I’ll go get the others, wait here.”

Ivy returned with Gray, Lynn, Holes, Panda, and Meg, and introduced them accordingly. “Gray works on the special effects, Lynn designed everyone’s costumes, Holes makes the set, Panda is a theatre critic, and Meg is our concept artist.”

“So, other than animation, is there anything else you bring to the table?” Molly asked.

“Well, I do glass art,” Cadence supplied. “It’s probably not relevant, but when it’s still really hot and glowy, which is when you can shape it, it looks like it would make a good snack. Hell, it almost looks like Gatorade. I can show a picture if you’d like.”

Cadence took her phone out and everyone crowded around to see.

“More like Powerade, Gatorade doesn’t come in that kind of blue,” Speens added.

“F O R B I D D E N S P I C Y G A T O R A D E,” Connor yelled, startling Farris.

“NO,” Holes countered, clearly distressed. “Do NOT drink molten glass. You’d die!”

“You call it death, I call it adventure,” Molly smirked. “I’m here for it. C’mon Holes, live a little.”

“Sis, how have you made it to adulthood thinking like that?” Lynn questioned, looking a bit scared.

“And I know how to live, I’m living right now!” Holes countered.

“Sure you are, nerd.” Molly rolled her eyes. “And how many near death experiences have you had, huh?”

“Near death- okay, first of all, I am not a nerd-”

“You kinda are,” Tater mumbled. Holes gasped, putting a hand over her heart as if they were betrayed. “What? You are. You make a living off of reading books.”

“Used to, friend,” Holes clarified. “I’m a freelance artist now. I picked up this gig because of these fools. And good thing too, because now you’re about to poison yourselves! Second of all, um, none?! How many have you had?”

Molly clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Five. Blended corn, acorns, eating soap, eating paper, and an intense game of dodgeball. I haven’t even peaked with these experiences yet.”

“Immortal until proven mortal,” Connor finished for her.

Meg stood next to Molly and held her shoulders. “This girl, she’s going places.”

“Meg, not you, too, I swear to god-”

“sLuRp,” Ivy joined in, grinning from ear to ear.

Holes was getting hysterical. “What the actual hell is going on? Lynn, help me out here.”

“The Gatorade is Forbidden for a reason, kids,” Lynn tried to reason.

Gray stood up with a mischievous glint in their eyes. “Where can we get it?”

“From the crunchy forbidden chocolate powder, of course,” Connor chimed in. Panda gave him a high-five while Holes became paler and paler from the cult forming in front of their eyes.

“This one speaks the truth,” Panda shrugged.

“Ok, what even is crunchy forbidden chocolate powder?”

“Sand, duh,” Connor said matter of factly. “Add some vodka, a martini, and some olives, and you got one heck of a slushie.”

“So that means there must be Forbidden Chewy Lettuce and Flavoured Forbidden Chewy Lettuce,” Tater went on. “Grass and flower petals. Cursed, but not wrong.”

“Ooh, and crackle air can be limestones and sodium carbonate, pies are dirt, bread is wood, and hard candy is metal,” Panda proclaimed.

“Fidget spinners are Forbidden Bagels, too,” Connor helped. “I should know, I tried the other day and cut my lip.”

Farris ignored the last part of Connor’s rant. “The variety pack, I like the sound of that.”

“Farris you’re supposed to look after us and you’re condoning this?!” Holes shouted.

Farris mounted his skateboard. “I’m not condoning anything. I’m enabling and hyping them up without joining in. That’s some big brain stuff.”

“This is why they control the brain cell,” Ivy nodded. “WAIT, ARE MY CHICKEN NUGGETS BURNING?!”

“Ives, you literally set a timer on the microwave backstage, you’re fine,” Tater reassured Ivy, holding her from running to check on her meal.

“Oh, like you know anything about microwaves,” Ivy argued. “You microwave ice cream.”

“It takes too long to soften, and I’m impatient,” Tater defended, turning to address Holes. “And it is eaten with a spoon.”

“Do not start this debate again- you know what, Panda, get ice cream from the mini-fridge, we’re settling this here and now,” Holes demanded.

“I think the real question is why is ice cream so hard,” Speens mentioned as Panda brought a tub of Haagen Daz ice cream. Holes used a fork to attempt to chisel out part of the snack. It wasn’t very successful.

“I think that’s just how Haagen Daz works,” Cadence observed.

Holes saw this as an opportunity to gain some momentum in the argument. “Not just this brand! All ice cream works like that!!!”

“No,” Panda objected. “Not Breyer’s. That stuff is always just right when you need it. Hashtag not sponsored.”

“Did you just break the fourth wall?” Lynn asked. “You know what, I don’t wanna know, just for the love of all that is good in this world please don’t drink the Forbidden Spicy Gatorade.”

“Too late,” Cadence said. “It’s easily accessible. Also, I’m calling E so we can recruit her.”

“Holes, I know you’re hiding it from us,” Molly speculated.

“What are you talking-”

“You’re keeping the Forbidden Spicy Gatorade all to yourself because you know of its power and you want it all to yourself.”

“I don’t HAVE the Gatorade, and I’m explicitly telling you it’s going to kill you if you drink it!”

As the bickering went on, Lynn slipped off to the vacant staff lounge to pull out her phone. There had to be a supplier somewhere who would give them this. She searched for a few minutes, and, after a few dead ends, she finally found an investor. “Cha-ching. Forbidden Incorporated is in business,” Lynn smiled to herself.

“Forbidden Incorporated, eh?” Farris asked from the doorway. Lynn froze and cursed herself for forgetting to lock the door. Now Farris knew of her plans. “Tell you what, I’ll keep your secret under one condition: We split the money 50/50, and get equal control over the decisions. So, deal?”

Lynn hesitated. She wasn’t sure she could trust Farris, but seeing as this was the only way to stop Holes from knowing just yet, she had no other choice. “Deal.”

_______

A/n: So that was fun and took entirely too long to write. I hope you enjoyed it and if you’re in the cult and I didn’t include you, reblog this and I’ll make a list. The next chapter might focus on a smaller group bc there are like thirteen characters here and I’m tired. Peace out!

#forbidden spicy gatorade

42 notes · View notes

dimitrescus-bitch · 3 years

Text

Mixtape of Our Love -Ch. 1: Violet

"I don't understand why we even went to that party. It was no more fun than if we'd stayed in and played board games," Spencer complained. Not only had JJ and Penelope dragged him away from his nighttime reading, but they'd screwed up their usual night before school routine. Sure, the smile on Spencer's mother's face whenever she saw his friends taking him out to socialize was nice, but the party was a bust. The punch probably would have been fine if nobody had spiked it, but it seemed that most of the student body in attendance that night wanted to start their school year off hungover. "Are you even okay to drive?"

"Spencer, you don't have a license and Garcia can't walk on her own, I'm kind of the only option. Besides, I didn't drink the punch, only had two beers, and got something to eat before we left," JJ reasoned with him. Rather than admit she was right, Spencer just sat back in the backseat of JJ's car and stared out the window as she drove towards the apartment complex he lived in with his mother. "Hey Spence, I'm gonna need you to make sure that Garcia gets inside her place."

"Okay," Spencer agreed. JJ stopped to let them out and then sped home, wanting to make it before her dad came down to lock the gate. She was sure that he knew about the party, it'd been a tradition since he was in high school to go buck wild the night before school. JJ remembered hearing Roslyn coming home from that party at night. Their parents hadn't told either girl that they weren't allowed to go, but after what happened to Roslyn, Richard had gotten much more strict.

"Stealth mode," JJ muttered to herself as she turned her car lights off. She got past the gate at the opening of their driveway and then parked her car about a quarter of the way down. That way, it was unlikely that her parents would be woken up by the sound of her car's engine or the closing of her car door. JJ snuck around to the basement window, which she had left open, and then climbed inside. She landed with a soft thud on a pile of blankets she'd laid out earlier and then made her way upstairs.

JJ knew that her father would get the notification on his phone that their gate was open in just a few minutes, so she had to be fast. It was an every night ordeal, Richard not closing the gate when he got home from work. Sandy would go unlock the gate when she left to check on JJ's grandparents in the morning, it'd be locked again by the time that JJ got back from school, and she'd leave it unlocked, but shut for her dad when he got home. Since she'd gotten her license and own vehicle, that was the order of things at the Jareau home.

As if on cue, just as JJ was pulling back the covers on her bed and turning off her TV, she heard the heavy footsteps of her father as he walked by. He paused by her door for a moment, but then kept walking down the stairs. JJ sighed in relief and changed out of what she'd worn to the party and into a pair of pajamas. Since he didn't check on her on his way down, JJ knew that her father would on his way up. JJ brushed her teeth and sprayed herself with perfume to get rid of any trace of alcohol on her body. It wasn't uncommon for Richard to invite JJ out to the garage for a beer after dinner, but JJ had rushed off to Garcia's after dinner, so he didn't that night.

"Jenny?" Richard asked quietly as he pushed open his daughter's bedroom door. JJ's light was still on, so he had presumed that it was okay to come in. "How was game night?"

"It was fun dad," JJ answered. She felt a little bad about lying to her dad, especially not that she was on good terms with him again. After Roslyn's suicide, the relationship between JJ and her parents had left a lot to be desired. As she got a bit older and dealt with her own grief, she realized that they had been trying to be there for her, but they had also just lost one of their children. "Forget to shut the gate again?"

"I don't see how you can set the code from inside, but you can't shut it," Richard said as he sat down on the edge of JJ's bed. JJ was sitting at the vanity that she had painted with her sister whenever they were younger at their grandparents. "Are you nervous about tomorrow? I remember how crazy your sister would go before the first day, especially this one."

"I think it's going to be a good year," JJ told her father. She turned to put her hairbrush away, so she didn't see the flash of fear in his eyes at what she said. "I should go to bed though. Night dad."

"Night Jenny." Richard got up and walked out of JJ's room. He glanced over at her one last time before shutting the door and letting her get to sleep.

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

Three quick knocks to JJ's door from her mother woke the teenager up like always. JJ checked the clock as she rolled out of bed. She didn't need to wake up whenever her mother left, but Sandy didn't trust JJ to wake up with her alarm after not using it all summer. Richard wouldn't be awake until after JJ was already supposed to be in school, so JJ just had to wake up at 5:45 whenever her mother left until it became a routine for her. Weekends were different though, JJ would either spend them at Garcia's or she'd roll out of bed and join her family at her grandparents' place around 1, just in time for lunch.

"Morning sunshine," Sandy greeted her daughter. JJ rubbed her eyes and grumbled about how it was too early. "Eat up, you'll feel better then."

"Promise?" JJ asked, her voice a little raspy. Sandy set a plate down in front of JJ and didn't move until the young blonde started to eat. JJ knew that her mother wanted to sit down and have some sort of little talk with her. Senior year was a big deal and a lot of pressure. It didn't help that this was the first school year that JJ was going to be off medication since the seventh grade. The old family psychiatrist had moved to Maine and the new one seemed to think JJ was too normal to need medication. "Mom, shouldn't you get going?"

"Oh, yes, you're right." Sandy threw her hands up in a frazzled-looking motion and then turned on her heels to go. JJ finished her breakfast, ignoring the fact that her mother still shaped her pancakes like Minnie Mouse. It was sort of cute and caused JJ to be overcome with a wave of nostalgia. It was bittersweet, the fun memories of family breakfasts in the morning before school. Now, she had to go through the morning motions all by herself. The cartoons that she'd watch with Roslyn were replaced by a morning run.

JJ plugged her earbuds into her phone and pressed shuffle on her phone. The music was blaring from the earbuds before they reached her ears. JJ's legs moved to match the beat of the song. She ran fast and hard, ignoring the burning in her legs and lungs. She would do this every morning, pushing herself to go longer and longer. On the outside, it looked like JJ was a dedicated athlete, but really she just wanted to reach a point where she didn't feel the emptiness of losing her first best friend.

Roslyn had been the person JJ looked up to. JJ knew that she'd gotten lucky with Roslyn, who had always made sure that there was time for JJ. Whenever Roslyn had started playing soccer, she'd let JJ sit on the sidelines at her games and during the practices. Roslyn had been the person who JJ had gone to for everything, but now JJ didn't have that and even though it had been years, JJ couldn't help but to feel so lost sometimes when she was alone. Garcia and Reid were good about being there for her though whenever she'd have particularly bad moments.

JJ turned herself around and ran back to her house. By the time she'd gotten inside, she had worked up a pretty good sweat. JJ dropped her clothes on the floor of her bedroom on the way into her bathroom. She double checked to make sure that she had set a towel by the shower before she turned on the water. JJ connected her phone to the Bluetooth speaker she kept in her bathroom and then stepped into the shower. As she washed away the sweat and grime from her run, JJ pretended that her sadness went along with it. With a content sigh, JJ turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. JJ stopped at her dresser to get some of her outfit for the day.

There had once been a time whenever JJ had put a lot of effort into what she'd wear for the first day. That had been back before she had a car and went to parties. That was a time whenever she had rarely seen her classmates over the summer because she'd been at the farm riding horses most of the summer. Of course every weekend, she'd go into the city for a playdate with Garcia, and then eventually Reid too. Once she was dressed, JJ sat at her vanity to fix her hair and put on a little makeup. It'd be gone after gym class, but if she didn't put something on, Garcia was liable to do her makeup for her in the car on the drive to school.

"Decent," JJ commented to herself. She slid the chair she'd been sitting in back and stood up to look over her ensemble fully. JJ looked good in her casual and simple, but not sloppy outfit. Her jeans were a light blue with a few small rips strategically placed. JJ had gone with a plain white long sleeved shirt that would have the sleeves halfway up her forearms by the time she got to her car. JJ turned off her speaker and went downstairs to grab her backpack and put on a pair of shoes. JJ smiled as she saw the new shoes her mother had bought her for school already sitting out.

JJ grabbed her backpack and walked into the kitchen to get her water bottle and some snacks for during the school day. She made sure to grab one of the birthday cake protein bars for Reid, who never ate breakfast at his house because he was busy with his head in a book. Garcia always had breakfast, and would have at least one snack for both JJ and Reid to eat on one of their between class breaks. JJ grabbed Reid a bottle of Powerade on her way out of her house and then ran out to her truck so they wouldn't be late to school. Since she'd gotten her license, JJ had been Garcia and Reid's ride to school. Garcia didn't like having to wait for the bus or subway and people tended to pick on Reid when he used public transportation.

Garcia and Reid were waiting outside in the parking lot for JJ when she got there. Reid got into the backseat and Garcia put her backpack next to him while JJ got the door for her. Once Garcia was settled in the passenger's seat, JJ shut the door for her and then walked around to her own side. JJ got in and buckled up, knowing that Reid was watching to make sure that she did. JJ glanced back at Reid in the rearview mirror and flashed him a smile. Much like he had whenever they had first met in middle school, he smiled at her excitedly. Not a lot had changed for their group since it had formed. Reid was literally wearing the same exact outfit he wore every single year: brown pants that had been ironed about a week ago, a light blue shirt, and a semi-ugly sweater vest that JJ had punched a guy for teasing Reid about freshman year.

"Reid, are you buckled?" JJ asked as she placed her hand on the gear shift.

"Yes, I am," Reid said and JJ shifted into drive.

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

"They are really nice. Spencer can come off as a little odd, but he is super sweet and insanely smart. JJ is probably the nicest person you'll ever meet, unless you're mean to Reid or me," Garcia told Emily as they walked through the cafeteria. "I'm sure that they'll both welcome you into the group."

"Even if they don't, thank you for trying," Emily said. Garcia frowned at that for a second, recognizing the self-deprecating comment from years of JJ and Reid both subtly doing it. "I don't expect myself to fit in here. I'm not even sure how long I'll be in DC for."

"Well, while you are here, you're welcome to join the band of merry outcasts. Even though JJ could definitely be the queen of the school if she really wanted to," Garcia said as they sat down at the table. "Emily, this is Spencer Reid. Reid, where's JJ?"

"I think she was talking to Will by the forks," Spencer said, not looking up from what he was writing in his notebook. Garcia cleared her throat and Spencer looked up, surprised to see Emily sitting across from him. "You were in my Advanced Literature class. Prentiss right, the ambassador's daughter?"

"Emily Prentiss." Emily reached out to shake Spencer's hand. "What are you working on?"

"Book analysis," Spencer answered. Just as he was returning to his paper, JJ came up behind him and shut his notebook. "I was working on that."

"And now you're eating lunch. Hi, Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." JJ smiled politely at Emily as she sat down next to Spencer and across from Garcia. Spencer pouted for a couple of moments and then turned his attention to his food. "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Oh yeah, my family moved back to DC after awhile. I'm Emily," Emily said, hoping that nobody caught the fact that her voice was slightly higher than normal. "It's nice to meet both of you."

"I wouldn't speak so soon, Spence here hasn't told you about meat processing while you're trying to enjoy your chicken nuggets," JJ joked as she nudged Spencer.

"I don't know why you're still upset about that because since then you have eaten at least 326 chicken nuggets," Spencer said and JJ rolled her eyes at him. "Not counting the ones on your plate or whatever you took from Will when you were talking. What I said didn't deter you in the slightest."

"So Emily, how long has it been since you've lived in DC?" Garcia asked Emily, hoping to deter JJ and Reid's little back-and-forth.

"Well, we moved to Europe when I was like six, but I spent a summer around here when I was 14. I spent most of my time hanging out in federal buildings though with one of my old friends, Aaron," Emily answered. Garcia kept Emily talking until she stumbled upon something that Emily and the other could bond over.

#jemily #criminal minds fanfiction #mixtape of our love

9 notes · View notes

feelsundefeated · 3 years

Text

hi my name is poe ( they/them. 23. est ) ! and i’m very excited to be here <3 i can’t wait to write with all of you :3 this is my goblin eli and while i woke up late and don’t have a background written up or anything you can find an info dump ( plus some wanted connections ) under the cut which will hopefully give you some insight ! like this if you’d like to plot ! it’s easier to get a hold of me on d*scord : kangaroo court#6392 but ims are fine too ! :D

✼:♡*ﾟ✿ ↝ jeon jungkook . demi boy . he/they . ／ elijah “ eli ” kang is blasting are you bored yet? by wallows again … ugh , i swear they play that song every single day ! you’d think they’d learn how to pipe down . oh , you don’t know them ? they live in apartment 4b . i haven’t talked to them much , but i know that they’re twenty three years old , and that they’ve been living in the complex for three years . i always run into them when they’re coming back home from vinny’s vinyls , and they seem really gregarious and flighty . maybe you’ll have better luck with the aries than i do .

muse info :

he’s a typical american so getting used to canadian culture is still a thing for him. he can do a pretty good accent though ( in his opinion which means it actually sucks ).

he works at vinny’s vinyls and is obsessed with music. his favorite band is wallows but he has a soft spot for all those 2000s pop punk and emo bands. if he recommends fall out boy to you at the register just go with it and act like you’ve never heard of them.

his walls are covered in various records he’s collected some albums he really loves and some he just likes the look of ( ugh posers amirite ? ).

he really loves dogs and most animals in general. if you go through his tiktok fyp it’s filled with farmers and people who take care of animals most people wouldn’t have as a pet.

he’s known pretty much all his life that he’s nonbinary like the idea of being masculine never appealed to him so he just kinda vibes with it. if you ask him he’ll say gender is a myth and he’s never understood it. he’s obsessed with being a he/they like as soon as he found out what a demi boy was he just knew it fit.

also he’s bisexual so he’s just in love and wanting to sleep with everyone KFJDSHJFSD

due to his aries nature he tends to get crushes easily then stupidly admits to them but gets over them in two weeks and ghosts them :/

he’s really bad at committing like really really bad. he’s never had a relationship last longer than three months and he tends to leave people bitter about it because he doesn’t break up with them he just disappears. if your muse hates aries then he might be why.

he loved the idea of living alone because at home he’s the youngest of five siblings and being stuck in a house ( shared bedrooms forever since as the youngest he got the short end of the stick ) with them made him crave alone time. but now he gets lonely a lot and regrets not having a roommate. so whoever he’s friends with he comes in and crashes on their couch a lot for no reason other than he wants to. so you might have to kick this bum out personally

that being said he loves his family a lot and facetimes with his parents and the siblings he can get a hold of at least once a week. they drive him nuts though but in like the best way possible.

he tends to stay up way too late and for some reason that’s when the act up urges hit so if you hear somebody else blaring at 3 am he’s fine i promise ( maybe ).

he never drinks water and suffers from constant headaches but refuses to drink it. his fridge is filled with various flavors of monster blue powerade and mountain dew. he hates the taste of coffee and alcohol ( he still drinks the latter though ).

he really likes video games so if he randomly invites your muse over to play mario kart on the switch it’s either to brag or he’s just trying to hit on you. he’s a shyguy main btw.

talk to him about video games and he’ll get lost in the convo for hours. he loves open world games the best i.e. skyrim breath of the wild red dead redemption 2. but he also likes rpgs and nintendo games.

he runs cold most of the time so he always has a hoody on.

he loves anime so talk to him about anime ( especially my hero academia ) and he has figurines of his favorite character bakugo.

he has a lot of badly done tattoos on his hand and arm just because he gets bored then goes and gets something done.

he wears five earrings in each ear and used to have them gauged but they grew back and he’s too lazy to get them done again. he also has his hair done in an undercut currently and he loves putting it up in ponytails or buns.

if you make him a playlist he’ll fall in love with you immediately.

he’s really good at binging tv shows. he rewatched hannibal in three days and gets done with most new netflix series in a day.

he’s allergic to peanut butter but sometimes he eats uncrustables to see if he’s gotten over thinking he can just build up an immunity to it.

wanted connections:

exes ( any gender. i’m really wanting multiple plots of like people that eli’s strung along and left in the dust. )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

i haven’t decided where he’s from so hmu for childhood plots. i’m a sucker for childhood besties, first kisses and crushes.

be his infatuation of the week ( this can be multiple plots but i want eli confessing his feelings then getting over them and ghosting leaving your muse confused. i want the awkward run ins and confrontations ! )

you come into vinny’s vinyls and ask him for recs but he just goes on about how good mcr is.

you nag him to please drink some water because he’s clearly dying of dehydration.

come play mario kart with him. he’ll say he’s gonna win but more than likely he’ll lose.

you check up on him because he’s listening to fleetwood mac’s rumours at 4 in the morning and you’re wondering if he’s ok and also you just wanna sleep.

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

he’s eaten peanut butter again and you’re the one who has to drag his stupid ass to the hospital.

you’re the friend whose couch he crashes on constantly. maybe one night you’re trying to bring someone home and he won’t leave and you’re trying to nicely make him get the hint but he refuses so you have to be mean about it.

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it !

#opalintro #・。 ◞ ( 🛹 ) 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 ☇ ooc .

9 notes · View notes

goatbi · 4 years

Text

Affection, Rats, and Dogs Chapter Five

They all had sleeping problems, which was understandable. None of them could really sleep alone anymore, and it often ended up with them in the living room piled together. Sometimes Gordon and Benrey would break off to sleep in Gordon’s room, and sometimes it was Bubby and Coomer, and very rarely, only one night so far, they had all managed to be in their own rooms, though none of them slept all that well in the end.

So it was unsurprising when one or more of them were awake at two am, on the couch doing something, or in the kitchen, and this time, it just so happened to be Tommy and Coomer. Bubby was asleep, head on Coomer’s lap, body curled up as tight as he seemed to be able too, Coomer slowly raking his fingers through his hair, which was probably the only sort of brushing the mess got on a regular basis. Tommy, on the other hand, had stopped in the kitchen, grabbing a soda and moving back to the living room slowly, settling on Coomer’s other side, just holding the soda for now, looking down towards the floor, where Gordon and Benrey were clinging to one another, sleeping quietly, Sunkist laying over their chest, staring quietly at Tommy. He smiled at her, and she narrowed her eyes for a moment, before closing them, settling into her spot more comfortable. Green bubbled up between them, and Tommy hummed.

“If it’s green like brown bent, they’re content.” He murmured on instinct and Coomer looked over at him.

“How is it green if it’s called brown bent?” He asked, and Tommy smiled softly.

“It’s a type of parasitic grass that can’t survive in warmer temperatures, but lays dormant. It’s also called bentgrass, makes it look like something’s wrong with your lawn. I just like making them rhyme. It’d be easier to say ‘oh he’s feeling content’ but if it rhymes you remember it easier.” Tommy explained, popping open the soda can with a hiss and taking a sip, shivering slightly as when the carbonation hit his throat, a feeling he can never fully get used to no matter how much soda he drinks.

Coomer nods with this knowledge, looking down at Bubby quietly as he slept, fingers clutching onto the blanket tightly, and even so, Tommy could see the way his hands would shake, muscles still regrowing underneath, and Tommy hummed softly, letting his rarely used sweet voice settle in blue to green around Bubby. He could not fix it perfectly, but he could ease pain, and he watched Bubby relax a moment, and Coomer smiled at him, still silent, all the thanks Tommy needs is seeing Bubby calm, the pain in the room ease for even a moment.

It’s quiet. Tommy knows neither of them will sleep, not tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow, and he takes another sip of the soda, relishing the burn of the carbonation, feeling the burn of it relax him. He was still here, real, but despite that. He wasn’t going to go to bed.

“You feeling alright, Tommy?” Coomer asked softly, and Tommy glanced over at him, nodding slightly. The silence came back, only broken by the soft breathing of the others, curled up in an area around them, sleeping in peace, and Tommy sighed slowly, turning his head back towards the wall, trying to think of something else. His phone went off, and it took him a moment to lift his hand to grab it.

Darnold was still awake as well, which slightly upset Tommy, as he knew how traumatizing Black Mesa was, and he had no one to be there for him. It was an update text apparently, and Tommy smiled softly realizing that Darnold typed in all caps when he was excited. It was cute, to be completely honest. At the moment, he had been working, as Tommy assumed, with the fact that he had to decipher a few words from typos, and had managed to create Evil Powerade. He invited Tommy over later that day-Darnold said tomorrow, but it was past midnight by then, and Tommy liked to keep a strict timeline in his head-to come try it with him, to be able to record reactions. Tommy hummed, setting down his soda on the floor next to his foot to send a message back.

“Darnold?” Coomer asked, and Tommy smiled softly, nodding. “I figured, with that little smile you’ve got there.” Tommy went red, shooting a half-hearted glare towards him as he sent the text and set his phone aside, leaning down to pick up his soda again. “Now there’s no need to be embarrassed, Tommy, we’re all victims to the love bug, you know.”

“I know...” Tommy hummed, glancing back towards Benrey and Gordon. “I just don’t want to end up locked in a tube because I can’t get it together, and, while you two were cute, ten months of fucking things up probably isn’t the best for someone who works in potions.” He smiled softly, head falling back as he stared up at ceiling. Coomer hummed in acknowledgement.

“Well... talk about it then. That was our problem, we didn’t talk about anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just... I don’t wanna lose him, you know?” Tommy glanced over at Coomer, frowning to himself.

“I get it Tommy, but that is unfortunately a future you would have to face. I’m not saying it is at all likely, but it’s part of the horrifying ordeal of being known. Loving and being loved is terrifying but...” He looked down at his husband, drooling on his pant leg, and smiled. “So very very worth it.”

Tommy glanced down at Bubby, frowning slightly, before tilting his head, imaging himself and Darnold in a position like that, or the one like Benrey and Gordon, curled up around each other and clinging, a dark green floating around them. He thought about it for just a moment, and found himself smiling softly. He opened his eyes again, smile still on his face and Coomer grinned at him.

“If it’s any consolation, if Darnold doesn’t feel the same, which I highly doubt, he is a kind man. He wouldn’t hold it over you, and he wouldn’t abandon you for it.” Coomer said softly, and Tommy nodded, draining the rest of the soda and crushing the can against his head, setting the crushed can to the side, closing his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t needed, as the comfortable silence came back, and Tommy kept his eyes closed, listening to the quiet breathing of his sleeping friends.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #tommy coolatta #dr. coomer #Feelings In Various Ways

17 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Deeper Water

[Tour]

Word count: 2696

Kinda late birthday gift for @the10amongstthese3s

Gosh diddly darn where do I start-- you are one of the most wholesome people in this community okAy? You’re such a saint ya know?! I swear, you’re probably the first of many to genuinely cheer me on with my writing and listen to all my ideas. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I remember when you first messaged me (or maybe I messaged you? i can’t even remember- we talk every day now!) and how happy I was to be noticed by someone so big and amazing in the fandom. I just felt so honored and lucky. And I sure am right about being lucky. Hell, Duckie you probably don’t notice this but your content and just you in general has helped me through quite a lot of shit. I absolutely love how you constantly try to help others out, put a smile on their faces and watch them grow. Your personality is GOLD. You have made me motivated and inspired me in so many ways, helping me with writers block, stupid anon hate, and my self-esteem in general. You’re such a respectful person and I just want to say over and over again until the end of time: Thank you… I thank you for reaching your hand out to me and my writing and helping me grow, even when I’m being stubborn and childish. Thank you for everything. I wanted to give you something in return as well. I’m sorry it probably doesn’t seem like much but here you are, you wonderful, amazing, talented person!! Take this as a gift of my gratitude and how you changed my life through everything!

------------------

“Teach me how to swim.” Joan grits out from between her teeth. Her icy grey-blue eyes are sparkly with tears, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped tight around the straps of the backpack she insists on using for work for some reason. The nails on both hands have been chewed down to almost the stinging quick. Aragon pauses, swallowing the last swig of her cherry powerade as she considers the girl: She’s trembling, lower lip wobbling, and her knees are nearly knocking together. Aragon wants to fish out a bandage from her pocket that she knows she doesn’t have to wrap up around her nails.

Joan is scared. But why?

It’s a question that even Aragon asks herself. Why was she afraid of water? Why was she so hesitant to swim? Why didn’t she know how to yet?

What happened?

Did she watch a loved one drown? Was her home destroyed by a flood or hurricane? Was she ever dunked underwater again and again and again and again until she couldn’t breathe anymore?

Anxiety surges like the ocean surf and riptides that pull Joan down beneath the surface, closing over like a lattice net of hands in children’s games, forcing her under. Anxiety, fear, terror--and for what? Over what? A liquid? A liquid she should have no reason to be afraid of? She was never traumatized by water, not that she can remember, so why?

“Okay,” Aragon says with a shrug, and it’s as easy as that.

Joan swallows her shock at the agreement and the tears thick at the back of her throat, and nodded. She smiles thinly, wryly, shakily, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Then, she’s gone, whirling around in a flash of white-blonde hair and waddling off like an ungraceful arctic fox to her dressing room. Aragon doesn’t watch her go. No need. She turns, too, and throws her bottle away in the nearby trash can. Nearby, masters of eavesdropping Anne and Jane stare at her in dumbstruck shock, and Aragon isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or punch them at their stupid expressions.

“What?” She snaps at them.

They say nothing, too intimidated by her bright, flashing eyes. Aragon snorts and then goes on her way.

She doesn’t speak to Joan until the end of that show day, after two performances, and by then they’re both exhausted. Aragon hides it as she always does, but Joan is slouched in a position that’ll make her back hurt later, rubbing the goosebumps on her forearms like she was cold, despite it being a rather warm early spring day. Her eyes are vacant and far away.

(why? why? why?)

Aragon throws an arm over her shoulders in a friendly way, as if they have known each other for centuries, and she can feel the trembles wracking Joan’s frame. The girl vibrates against her and rattles her rib cage to a rhythm conducted by aquaphobic horror.

“Let’s do this!” Aragon says, and the words ring oddly hollow in her mouth. Her chest aches in a way that reminds her of when Mary was taken away from her when Joan smiles up at her- tremulous, but trusting, and Aragon thinks that this is the first time she’s been told such a thing, been included in something, been the center of someone’s attention.

And it terrifies Joan.

(why why why oh why why why--)

But Joan sucks it up- Aragon can see her swallow in a thick way that makes her own throat hurt. She smiles again, this time more for herself and says, “Yeah”, but it doesn’t come out right. It’s a squeak, a mewl, a bleat, a pathetic excuse for a reply because her terror has her by the neck with yellowed fangs dug in and she can’t even answer correctly. Aragon glances down at her, eyebrows twitching together, then nods.

There’s no going back. There’s only the here and now- only the salt spray that bludgeons even her dulled sense of smell, mouth dry and tasteless still from hours of singing, that Joan hides her face from by burrowing against Aragon like-

-like a small animal, a baby kitten maybe, one Aragon had plucked off of the streets back before marriage in her past life, nursed back to health with dribbles of milk and lovingly smashed up food, and learned to love again through loving something else. After Henry and Mary, her heart felt like ground beef, or pulpy chuck, maybe- all mashed up and masticated, run through the grinder twice over. It’s still sore, still tender, but it’s been healing. They’ve all been healing.

Was Joan?

(wet too wet too cold why why why--)

And as if on stage cue, her chest twinges, the stab smothered in a rough clear of her throat, and Joan sniffles. Aragon can’t tell if she’s crying.

They take Aragon’s car. The drive is silent, aside from Joan’s sniffles and gasps and mewls of distress. She spent it rocking back and forth in the passenger seat, looking very anxious and very regretful and very, very ill. But she doesn’t tell Aragon to turn around or stop, even when she had looked like she was going to vomit at one point. Her nose squirted out blood shortly after that, the stress too much for her poor little body, and Aragon wordlessly gave her a napkin with a pitiful frown.

The surface of the lake churns, roiling over with wavelets and riptides. Little dimples and indents are left behind by the rain, like the pattering of unseen children, jumping in puddles with bright red boots and yellow rain slickers. Aragon parks in the grass and she and Joan sluice through evergrowing puddles and mud to get to the shore. They stop. A runner of blood hangs pendulously from one of Joan’s left nostril and she swipes it away swiftly.

Joan dry swallows. Her eyebrows furrow, knitting together, as she tries to figure out what to do next- paralyzed by indecision by the sandy shores of the water, little wavelets lapping at them, ratty sneakers she bought from a thrift shop squashing down temporary imprints into the wet earth. Aragon thinks that she looks a hell of a lot like an indignant kitten, when she’s got the tip of her tongue barely poking out from between her clenched teeth and face all scrunched up in something close to the cousin of a scowl like that.

“Gotta screw your courage to the stickin’ place, right?” She asks, trying to break the tension, and to her relief, it does. Joan nods, a sharp little jerky motion, and then kicks off her sneakers and wrangles off her socks with her toes. They’re bright pink with yellow elephants, and the water almost carries them away. Aragon bends down quickly, grabs them by the cuffs and flicks them over her shoulder, back in the vague direction of where their jackets and phones sit, bundled safely away from the surf. Joan startles a little at that, but when Aragon takes off her own shoes and throws them, she does the same, tossing her sneakers casually backwards. That tears a smile from her.

“Let’s do this,” Joan says, and even if her voice catches in her throat a little when a clump of seaweed is washed up onto the shore like a snarl of a corpse’s hair, she steels herself again. Aragon feels that same twinge in her chest, she thinks it might be right under her sternum- as she mirrors her word choice, and they come as naturally to her as if they were her own. Her shoulders are squared, and for a moment, as the wind whips white-blonde tendrils of her hair into her face Aragon thinks that she can see a girl who could lead herself out of the maw of hell through sheer will and grit alone.

But then thunder grumbles overhead and the lake roils in response, and another line of blood drips down Joan’s face. She lets it fall.

It’s a terrible day to go swimming. At the same time, with the skies overcast gray and sprinkling down, little tepid spatters of rain rather than a steady drizzle, it doesn’t feel like swimming. It’s a far cry from the gorgeous azure summer day that most people would take a dip in, and Aragon wonders if that’s why Joan chose such a day in the first place. Maybe learning how to swim in a tempest would prove something to someone.

(who to who who would be proud who would cheer who who WHY)

Blood splatters against the wet sand and blooms into a glorious red flower. Its petals whorl outwards, swirling and flapping into magnificent crimson waves that dissolve into the ebb and flow of the tide. Plop, plop, plop. Flowers bloom and wilt with every hungry roll of water against the shore until Joan finally wipes the stream away and whispers, “I’m ready now.”

She isn’t, Aragon knows she isn’t because she’s sweating buckets and her eyes are shiny and have more white in them than grey-blue and she looks like she’s about to foam at the mouth like a hog in a slaughtering pen, but she nods anyway.

“Alright.”

Aragon walks forwards, blindly into the water, and her hands carefully hold Joan’s, leading her deeper. Just until the water settles a little over their hips. She keeps her voice soft and warm and oh so gentle.

“You okay?”

Joan nods, opens her eyes, which Aragon hadn’t realized she’d had squeezed shut, and utters something that sounds like the noise a lamb with its throat cut would make. Sweat runs down her temple. The water ripples with her body’s violent tremors of terror. She tried again: “Yeah. I’m good.”

Aragon gives her the time to readjust, her eyes roving over the surface of the water like quicksilver, between the lightning and the gloomily dark bottom of rounded out pebbles and slabs of slate. It’s a little uncomfortable to be standing on them barefoot, the edges of the rocks and the corners of the bigger chunks digging into the soles of their feet, and Joan ends up standing up on her tippy toe to try to alleviate it. Aragon can’t help but be endeared by how even when she’s trying to be tall, Joan is still shorter than she is. When Joan turns back up to look at her, she knows that they’re ready to continue onwards.

Aragon holds Joan up at first. Aragon has never taught anyone how to swim before, so she’s not sure what to do. Joan’s sort of sprawled out on her stomach, splashing messily, cutting jags through the water’s surface. She punches and kicks like a drunk boxer, movements choppy. Aragon’s hands hover underneath her flat stomach (so thin so thin-- “Don’t you ever eat?”) as she follows her awkward crawl forwards, ready to--push her upwards, maybe?

Joan’s hair’s getting her in the eyes. Locks of white-blonde are like thorny vines pricking against her corneas. Given their height difference, the water isn’t so deep on Aragon, so she reaches over slowly.

“Hang on, Joan-”

Thunder.

Lightning.

Fission.

The whites of Joan’s eyes are stark. She spasms in an awful way. She whips her head over to stare, floundering, and after a little awkward moving and rearranging of limbs and splashing of lake water, she's a koala bear clinging to Aragon. Her legs are cinched around her waist, arms thrown over her shoulders, and Aragon’s sort of hunched over because she’s supporting both of their weight and Joan hadn’t thought to bring along a swimming suit, so there’s the issue of her t-shirt and shorts billowing out like some Regency era dress and weighing her down too. She’s this close to choking her out with the strength of her grip.

“Shh, shh,” Aragon rocks Joan back and forth in patient, soothing motions. “I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Joan pants and breathes harshly against the crook of her neck. Her nails have hooked into claws on Aragon’s back, but if it hurts, Aragon doesn’t say anything.

“Your hair,” Aragon explains, voice so soft even after being climbed up like she was a ladder. She moves to take the black hair tie off of her wrist. “It’s in your eyes.”

Joan doesn’t say anything, only looks at her expectantly, the uh, I knew that, dumbass clearly writ across her face. But with blood rimming her nostrils and her eyes blank with horror and lips chewed to shreds, her gaze was anything but insulting.

“Let me fix it.” Aragon says, and she’s smoothing back Joan’s hair and tying it up into a little ponytail, and then swirling that around to cobble a messy bun. It’s not the greatest looking hairdo in the world, but Joan seems to appreciate it. Aragon tucks the loose strands of it behind her ears clumsily, fingers a little numb with the cold.

“You’re all good to go, darling,” Aragon says, and Joan nods.

The moment’s broken, and they go back to kicking and paddling around. More than once Joan splashes water up her nose and Aragon snarks about brain eating amoebas in warm waters. Zombified. Sticks her arms out and everything, tottering this way and that. Aragon doesn’t roll her eyes and they both are grateful for it.

Joan rolls her eyes in response to her own antics, smacks the top of the water again, and it somehow dissolves, momentarily, into a water fight: sweeping arms and frantic giggling. She’s so caught up in trying to drench Aragon in the bone-chilling water that she’s lost her fear of treading water on her own. Aragon points it out, cheering, one fist punched upwards as if to punctuate the air at it.

The day stretches on. It isn’t perfect, but Joan is eventually passably confident with a front crawl. She’d insisted, because the little print outs crumpled in the bottom of her bag from the internet proclaimed it the fastest. Aragon doesn’t push her on her rationale behind choosing it, only helps her get to the point where she can kick her way over to her across the length of a pool. Eventually, she’s exhausted herself, and she lets Aragon drag her back most of the way without snarking.

Aragon remembers the last time that she held her like this: Joan falling into an uneasy sleep on her chest after a nightmare knocked the wind out of her-- literally. She had wrenched upwards out of her slumped position over her desk, leaned treacherously to the left in her chair, and slammed down hard, hard enough that days after they’d found that she’d cracked a rib on the floor.

By the time that the sun is setting, dying red embers bleeding across the sky in long trails, they’re both chilled to the marrow of their bones. They slog through the last few feet of water, resistance heavier than it seemed earlier on, thoroughly wet. Water runs down in streams from Joan’s outfit, and she snorts when Aragon throws her shoes at her when she’s raced across the sand to grab her own. She hobbles after weakly and Aragon stops messing around when she sees her pallor. She jogs over and wraps a soggy arm around Joan’s shuddering frame.

“Joan?” She says. She lifts Joan’s chin with a finger and can’t tell if that’s lake water or tears rolling down her cheeks. “Joan? Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

Joan shakes her head and bumps it lightly against Aragon’s shoulder. Her eyes flutter shut and she breathes out softly.

“Thank you,” She whispers. A line of blood creeps slowly from her nose. “For this.”

“Did someone ever drown?” Aragon then asks suddenly. “In your past life?”

Joan actually laughs. She sluggishly swipes away the stream of blood.

“No,” She answers. “No one except me. In my own sorrow.”

Another laugh. Aragon pulls her into a tight hug and kisses the top of her head. Joan hugs back, with nails hooked into needy, grasping claws.

“It’s okay,” Aragon tells her. “I promise. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Now it is,” Joan agrees softly. “Thank you.” She nuzzles her wet head against Aragon’s chest. “Catalina?”

“Yes?”

“Can you teach me how to go underwater next?”

#love you duckie!!!!!!!!!#six the musical #uk tour six #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #tour catherine of aragon #tour joan on the keys #tour anne boleyn #tour jane seymour #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #joan on the keys #mamagon #soft aragon #deeper water

29 notes · View notes

n1ght5h4d3-24 · 4 years

Text

A Semi-Apple Pie Life (Chapter 2)

A/N: Thanks to those of you who liked the first chapter. The OBX content is coming soon, just hang in there! Feedback is appreciated 💕

Summary

[Previous Chapter]

Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC

About ten hours after being on the road with Sam and Skylar stuck listening to Dean's rock music, the oldest Winchester pulled into a parking lot of a diner. The three Winchesters climbed out of the car and they all stretched.

"So, where are we?" Skylar asked her brothers.

Sam had been the one with the road map, giving directions to Dean to get to Chapel Hill and he was the one who suggested that they stop to get something to eat as they had only had breakfast from that morning.

"Saint Henry, Indiana." Sam tells her.

Skylar nodded her head before following her brothers into the diner. The three of them took a seat at a table and picked up the menus on the table, scanning them over as they decided what they wanted for lunch. A waitress soon approached the Winchesters, notepad in hand.

"Hi, what can I get you guys to drink?" she asked.

"Two beers and a blue Powerade with raspberry flavor added." Dean tells her.

The waitress writes down the drink orders before walking away from the table to let the Winchesters read over the menus. Skylar glanced over the top of her menu to look at her brothers before smiling softly. Even though she was their half sister, they never treated her differently and she knew they would do anything to protect her or save her just like they did for each other. It wasn't long until the waitress returned with the Winchesters' drinks. She set the two bottles of beer down in front of the boys and handed the glass over to the youngest Winchester.

"Are you guys ready to order or do you need some more time?" she asks them.

"We're ready to order," Dean tells her.

The waitress nods her head before pulling out her notepad out of the front pocket of her apron and grabs her pencil that was sitting behind her ear.

"I'll have your bacon triple cheeseburger with extra bacon." Dean tells her first.

Sam grimaces at his brother's choice in food like usual before giving his own order, "I'll just have a Caesar salad."

Dean scoffs at his brother and Skylar rolled her eyes at her brother's antics.

"I'll take a crispy chicken sandwich with cheese on it please." she says.

The waitress was quick to write down the siblings orders before walking back to the kitchen. When Skylar first moved in with Sam and Dean in the underground bunker, she was quick to notice the difference between the two of them. Dean is an alcoholic with bad eating habits, he hardly ate anything healthy preferring to eat the greasiest of foods. While Sam on the other hand ate healthy and went on a run every morning. Skylar was in between, she enjoyed eating greasy food but, she also went on morning runs with Sam. But, she knew that it didn't matter how different the three of them were…they were family and they'd do anything for each other. That had been proven time and time again in the past five years.

Eventually, the waitress came back with the Winchesters' food. She placed each plate down in front of the respective sibling before slipping a piece of paper next to Dean's plate. The oldest Winchester glanced down at the paper before looking up at the waitress, who gave him a wink before walking away. Sam and Skylar shared a knowing look before digging into their respective lunches. Dean just shook his head at his younger siblings before picking up his burger and taking a bite out of it.

About thirty minutes later and the Winchesters were back on the road again. Skylar fell asleep in the backseat and Sam stared at the map, giving directions to Dean every now and then as they headed for Chapel Hill, NC.

[Next Chapter]

24 notes · View notes

madisonhentosh · 3 years

Text

A Day In The Life Of An Endicott Student-Athlete

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a student athlete at Endicott College? I caught up with Catherine Miles, a member of the women’s ice hockey team, this past week to get a glimpse into her busy schedule.

Miles is a 20 year old Sophomore on the Beverly campus hailing from Northfield, Vermont, home also to Norwich University. Although the town of Northfield and its people are considered her family, Miles has found, and been welcomed into, a new family on the Endicott campus.

The Northfield Pharmacy is the only pharmacy in town. It is in the center of the downtown area which only consists of a handful of stores adding to the homey feel of Northfield.

With hopes of being a physicians assistant when she graduates, Miles is currently studying Exercise Science. A popular major among athletes, she finds herself in classes surrounded by other athletes from various sports teams.

Miles checks her class Canvas page prior to the start of class.

After waking up and preparing herself for the day, a typical Wednesday morning involves Miles walking from Stoneridge Hall all the way to the Arts Center, or better known as the VPAC. From 9:00-9:50a.m. she sits attentively in a class labeled philosophy and sport. As the clock strikes ten to the hour, the rose gold Mac laptop gets placed back in her backpack and she prepares to walk back to her dorm as her next class begins.

Being a college student during a pandemic means hybrid learning, and today, Miles’ 10 o'clock class, exercise physiology, happened to be occurring on Zoom. She did admit that, “keeping up with when, where, and what days you are actually in the classroom seems to be the hardest part of hybrid learning.”

Welcome to Zoom University! Miles completes her last two classes of the day in the comfort of her own room.

The academic day comes to an end with sport and exercise nutrition from 11:00-11:50a.m., also on Zoom. But, with the academic day coming to an end, the athletics part of the day is just beginning.

All teams on campus participate in strength and conditioning with Coach Dustin. The women’s hockey team mostly all lift on Monday and Wednesday mid morning to afternoon. Miles was placed in the 12:30pm lift group with a few other members of the team along with a couple members of the women’s lacrosse team.

The Endicott facilities are second to none. It is a rare occasion to see this gym empty of athletes and their hardworking, get-better, attitudes.

Due to the pandemic, regulations and precautions allow for 10 people in a lift group at a time, so team lifts are off the table. Team lifts were always a good way to build team chemistry and build a positive atmosphere as your teammates attempted max weights on exercises such as back squats, hang cleans, and bench presses. Miles stated that, “[a]s long as everyone does what they need to do in the weight room, time usually spent together at lift can be made up in other ways.”

As lift concludes, Miles now finally has the time to eat lunch. When asked about Callahan or the new market in the Wax, she responded with a smile, “I think the new options in the Wax could be one of the better things to happen on campus.”

The Callahan Dining Hall is usually the most popular choice for meals on campus. Other options include Einstein’s, the Lodge, and the new market located within the Wax Academic Center.

With the academics and lift now complete, Miles now has some two hours of down time as practice starts at 3:40p.m.

We happened to catch Miles on a good day, well good day to be a reporter, as the women’s ice hockey team happened to be having their team media day. As the team picked time slots to go and take pictures, Miles picked the 2:00 slot, and we can understand why with her busy day leading up to this point.

Photographer David Le, who runs all of the media days for the athletic teams, was at the Raymond J. Bourque Ice Arena on campus from 11:00-3:00p.m. snapping shots of the 35 members of the team. Miles got herself dolled up and headed over to the rink for both her headshot and on ice posed photos. She completes her temperature check and CoVerified check at the door and gets cleared to enter.

Miles awaits practice as media day concludes. The pre-game practice fuel of choice is a handful of Baked Lays chips with an Honest iced tea.

Now that the fun and games of media day had wrapped up, it was time for business as the team is preparing for their two upcoming games against Nichols College. “Practice is valued just as much as games this year because in reality, there is no guarantee our games will go as planned this weekend”, Miles added. COVID has made athletes everywhere value their sport even more than usual because one positive test can impact the whole, shortened season.

Quarantine took away the opportunity to step on the ice everyday. It took away the opportunity for fans to hear the ringing of the post, blades cutting into the ice, and the cheers of temmarts when a goal was scored. Miles added, “... having hockey taken away made me realize how big of a blessing hockey has been for me in my life. Each time I step on the ice now it’s a breath of fresh air, an escape from the outside chaos of the world.”

Ever since a young age playing for the Northfield Stars, Miles fell in love with the game of hockey unaware of how big of a role it would play in her later years.

Miles, a center, is a tenacious, hard-working player that might go unnoticed. Today’s practice at the Raymond J. Bourque Arena was defensive and neutral zone focused featuring a lot of regrouping and down low coverage. Being put in the center position of recent, Miles can be seen on the ice asking questions not only to the coach, but to upperclassmen who excel in the same position. Having played defense before and having experience, Miles understands the importance of staying low and supporting the puck on the breakout, which she is applauded for on many occasions by Coach McPhee.

As a freshman, Miles only logged minutes in 2 out of the 26 games played. But now, as a sophomore, she has 3 points in the past 3 games with a +4 rating, scoring her first goal in the Nichols series.

Miles (#28) looks to angle a Suffolk defender through transition.

“Every year is a tryout and an opportunity to prove yourself, and to others, that you deserve a spot on the lineup”, she explained. With 35 members on the team, practice is high-tempo and competitive as Coach McPhee looks to reward the hardest workers. Miles’ offseason efforts in the gym and on the ice, training with ELEV 802 in Vermont has seemed to pay off this year. There is always something to work on and when asked what that was, she quickly responded, “faceoffs, no doubt”, with a laugh.

5:10p.m.: Practice is wrapped up and Miles heads for the shower.

Following a shower, Miles, along with her teammates, head to the Callahan Dining Hall. On the menu tonight was a grilled chicken taco bowl, roasted vegetables, and of course, the Miles classic, a blue Powerade. “There’s just something about a blue Powerade from the Callahan. It’s almost like a Sprite from McDonald’s”, she discussed.

Surrounded by teammates, Miles finishes her meal at the Callahan before getting ready to head to work.

Although you may be expecting a typical end of the night with homework and Netflix in bed, our star of the show had other plans.

From 6:30-10:00p.m. Miles can be found working at the Post Center checking people into the gym, cleaning gym equipment, and monitoring open rec. Here she can work on homework, which she usually gets most of it done, watch Netflix, and today she even got the chance to watch her boyfriend play in his season opener soccer game for Elmira College.

7:05p.m.: Miles watches the Elmira men’s soccer game as she awaits the next gym cleaning.

At this point in the day, rest is much needed. Miles can go to bed knowing that she successfully made it through another day as a student-athlete on the Endicott campus.

As the clock strikes 11:00p.m., Miles finally hits the sheets and prepares to do the same thing the following day.

“I wouldn't want it any other way”, Miles concluded.

1 note · View note

pinnithin-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Jokes

Chapter 13

Tommy had handled everything up to this point with as much grace a demigod could muster. The addition of air assaults from attack helicopters, however, had finally robbed him of words.

It didn’t happen very often - hadn’t happened in years, really - but once his stress envelope was pushed too far, speech failed him. Too much noise, too much adrenaline, coupled with three days of no sleep and the immediate relief of Gordon’s wound being sealed had done him in. That was fine; he didn’t need to speak to pull a trigger. Not to mention Gordon and Benrey’s bickering was filling the air with enough words for the whole group.

He leaned his elbows against the railing at the top of the dam, catching his breath after downing an Apache, while the rest of the group argued over the control switch in a nearby tower. God, he was so tired. He didn’t necessarily need rest, but it did make his life easier. Every night they’d spent in the facility he’d stayed up to keep watch, or to keep an eye on Benrey, too nervous to sleep. The weariness had settled in his bones and stuck there.

Swimming through the dam’s turbines and emerging on the other side must’ve been the conclusion everyone came to, because Gordon stepped off the tower and took the plunge. Bold and fearless even while missing a hand, Tommy marveled as he watched. He winced when he hit the water several stories down. That can’t have felt good.

Bubby and Benrey followed suit while Tommy remained with Dr. Coomer at the top of the dam, zoning out. The desert brought on a whole new set of challenges, not only in the form of infantrymen and artillery, but also in the hot glaring sun overhead, in the searing sand underfoot. There weren’t any vending machines in the desert. They’d have to stick close to a water source as best as they could, for Gordon’s sake, at least. Tommy didn’t know what sort of enhancements had been given to Bubby and Coomer to prevent dehydration, but the one mortal member of the party surely wouldn’t last long.

“Tommy!” a distant call shook him from his thoughts.

He tipped his head down and saw the tiny orange dot that was Gordon Freeman, standing on a rock on the edge of the river below and waving his arms. Right, he needed to keep up. He raised a silent hand in acknowledgement, while Dr. Coomer vaulted over the railing and plummeted to the water below without hesitation. Tommy looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch the old man crumple like a coke can upon impact. Yeah, no, he wasn’t making that jump.

A blink later and he was standing beside Gordon and Bubby on the rock. Coomer was unpeeling himself from the bottom of the riverbed while the others squinted at the top of the dam. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Oh, there he is.” Bubby noticed him first. “He’s right here.”

Gordon turned, relief coloring his face. “Oh, you made it.”

Tommy offered him a wordless smile. I’m right behind you.

The river brought them through more pipes and tight spaces. Dr. Coomer, noticing that Tommy had gone unusually quiet, took it upon himself to keep the mood light as they traversed their new environment. It was a welcome reprieve, considering Benrey was more present and more talkative than he’d ever been before. They crept along through the gutter, flashlights in hand.

“What the hell is the point of this pipe?” Bubby asked.

“I don’t know” Gordon muttered, at the same time Dr. Coomer exclaimed, “This is where they keep the pipes!” sending everyone snickering.

Tommy made sure to give the scientist an appreciative glance when they emerged on the other side. The drone of circling helicopters could still be heard overhead, and they sheltered under an outcropping of red sandstone. Whoever had designed Black Mesa had done it in such a way that the facility looked like it was growing from the earth itself. Would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t getting riddled with shrapnel.

It was this sort of architecture that saved them, ultimately. Dodging the artillery would have been impossible otherwise. The team scurried through tunnels and chasms like rats, darting in and out of firing range as they traversed the unforgiving desert. At one point, Tommy found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Gordon behind the sandstone and could feel him shaking through his suit.

Unable to say anything, Tommy shot him a you okay? look as he racked his rifle. Gordon swallowed and nodded. The guy put on such an unflappable exterior. It was easy to forget that Gordon was as afraid as Tommy was.

Not afraid enough, however, to avoid going hand to hand with one of the soldiers they clashed with on a field of sand. Tommy was otherwise engaged, flushing out the infantrymen hiding behind a blind, and could do nothing but watch as Gordon grappled with his adversary several yards away. In the stormcloud of gunfire, he barely caught the soldier’s weapon discharge right next to Gordon’s head as he ripped it out of their hands. Gordon fired one, two, three shots into their helmet and they dropped.

All was still. While the others searched for a route onward, Tommy made his way over to Gordon, who let the M4 fall limply from his grip into the sand, breathing hard. A mixed swell of emotions was crashing around inside Tommy and he slapped a less-than-gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. His heart was hammering in his ribs.

He locked eyes with Gordon, hoping that the intensity of his stare would convey what he was thinking. Don’t ever do that again. You nearly gave me a damn heart attack.

Gordon laughed and shook his head apologetically.

Tommy scared him back, unintentionally, when the group wormed their way through a storm drain that emptied out onto a sheer cliff face. Everyone reeled with their own respective amounts of vertigo when they saw the drop. Even Benrey, whose careless facade had begun to chip ever so slightly after they’d run through a minefield, gave the chasm a wary look as he sauntered along the edge, hands in his pockets.

It was a beautiful view, despite the circumstances. The red and orange sandstone stood in proud, looming spires along the canyon. Below, a thin blue river glittered in the beating sun, ribboning through the rock in a way that was both gentle and unyielding. Tommy leaned closer to the ledge, taking in the landscape along with a deep, steadying breath. He allowed himself to have this moment. A few seconds of beautiful scenery in the middle of a war zone.

Gordon’s voice, shrill and startled, drew him back. “Okay, no, y- Tommy, Tommy,” he called.

Tommy turned. Gordon was beckoning him over, pressed against the canyon wall, a naked, fearful look on his face.

“Tommy, come back to me,” he pleaded. “You are too close to the edge.”

He glanced down and realized he was, in fact, mere centimeters away from the cliff’s sheer threshold. As Tommy took a generous step away, more out of consideration for Gordon than his own personal safety, he felt a strong hand grip the sleeve of his lab coat. He looked up and met Gordon’s stare, a nervous cocktail of worried and relieved, the same look Tommy had given him after that soldier nearly shot him.

The thought made Tommy smile. He gently unknotted Gordon’s fingers from his coat, his touch lingering a little longer than was necessary. Of course I’ll come back to you, the gesture said. I always will.

Benrey ruined the moment by daring Gordon to jump. “Maybe I’ll go if you go first,” Gordon shot back, and Tommy left them to argue as he moved on ahead.

The helicopters shredding the air around them set Tommy’s teeth on edge as they inched along the canyon wall. It was almost a relief to crawl inside another pipe, a welcome escape from the vertigo and the gunfire and the unforgiving sun. They emerged on the other side into a cistern of… something. Too blue to be water. Tommy stood up to his knees in it as his companions slumped, jelly-legged, against the walls. Coomer stretched out flat on his back, floating like he was in a swimming pool.

Benrey sat in the stuff so it was up to his neck. His eyes, usually bright and alert, were heavy with fatigue and a jaded scowl tugged at his mouth. Gordon stumbled out of the pipe last, and Benrey promptly chucked an aluminum can at him.

“Drink up, buddy,” he hissed. The can bounced impotently off the HEV suit’s armor casing.

Gordon pinned him with an irritable stare as he leaned against the cistern wall. “I’m not thirsty.”

“I’m thirsty,” Dr. Coomer commented in a weary attempt to defuse the hostility.

Benrey ignored him. “Hey, what happened to your arm?” he asked Gordon, crawling his gaze from the man’s face to his wrist.

Gordon’s response was tired. “I wanna kill you. I wanna make you dead.”

Tommy tuned them out as he studied the liquid swirling around his legs. He dipped a hand in it and rubbed his index finger and thumb together, feeling the pull of a sticky residue as he did so. Sugar? Gordon and Benrey’s argument escalated while Tommy touched a curious finger to his tongue. Oh, shit, he knew what this taste was.

As Tommy stood there wondering how the hell a vat of blue Powerade had wound up in the middle of the New Mexico desert, Benrey hauled himself out of the pool and approached Gordon with hostility, his characteristic sneer creeping back onto his face. “Looks like you’re a bit of a - looks like you fucked up there, huh?”

“I hate you,” Gordon ground out. “I hate you with my life.”

“I could drink soda forever,” Dr. Coomer - bless him; Tommy wanted to give him an award for his effort - called from his spot in the corner.

He was still only halfway paying attention, tracing his fingertips in a figure eight through the Powerade and theorizing about what sort of spatial displacement would have warranted this phenomenon. His train of thought was derailed when he caught a strange movement in the corner of his eye. Benrey lunged toward Gordon, interrupting him midsentence, and Tommy tensed, preparing for violence.

Gordon caught the entity with his good hand and pushed him gingerly backward, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Did you just try to kiss me?” he asked.

Tommy blinked, flicking a glance at Benrey. Did he? He hadn’t looked up in time to see. The entity stared back sullenly and a heavy, awkward pause settled over the group. Powerade sloshed in the wake of their movement.

Gordon passed a perplexed look to Tommy. To verify what happened? To gauge his reaction? Tommy raised and lowered his shoulders in a miniscule shrug. He wasn’t sure how he felt - how he was allowed to feel - about the entity advancing on Gordon. It wasn’t like Tommy had any claim to the man, and the action was as far from reciprocated as it could possibly get.

Benrey’s bored expression gave away nothing. It was... still rude, all things considered. Tommy was at least a little disgruntled on Gordon’s behalf, but he tried to keep this expression from showing on his face. Maybe he could pass it off as discomfort from the Powerade soaking into his socks.

Bubby finally broke the silence, impatient to get a move on. “Benrey, you’ll just have to kiss him after we leave,” he said.

“Save the-” Gordon nudged Benrey back until he was a generous arm’s length away. “Save the lovin’ for later,” he intoned awkwardly.

“You’ll just have to kiss Dr. Freeman after the test,” Coomer added, in the same tone with which one would say, “That’s never going to happen,” and Gordon turned away, laughing.

He sloshed through the pool past Tommy to move on, reaching out and skating his palm from his elbow to his wrist as he went. Tommy suppressed a shiver, unable to keep himself from feeling like the touch was a promise.

“Do you feel stronger being here?” he asked, the sensation finally knocking the words out of him.

Gordon paused and looked back. “Stronger?”

“This is where they make the Powerade,” Tommy said, playfulness broadening across his face.

Humor and bewilderment danced in Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, this isn’t water?” he asked. He skimmed a hand across the surface. “Do we manufacture Powerade?”

“Now, Gordon, it’s a common misconception that we’ve been putting fluoride in the water,” Dr. Coomer spoke up, giving Tommy a delighted grin at his return from silence. “Secretly we’ve been replacing it with Powerade!”

Tommy returned the scientist’s smile genuinely.

---

After thoroughly hydrating themselves, the group climbed out of the cistern into some sort of military compound. Tommy guessed by the sandbags and haphazard razor wire that this was a forward operating base, a temporary setup with the intent to clear out quickly. He’d be worried about the tanks if Dr. Coomer didn’t completely annihilate the first one they saw with a single hit.

It was the same dance they’d been performing all day. Run, shoot, hide. Provide cover fire for your buddy. Grit your teeth against the explosions and the shrapnel. Survive, survive, survive.

Tommy wondered if they could sue Black Mesa for permanent hearing damage. Alongside psychological trauma and grievous mortal injury. Add it to the list.

The compound was mazelike in nature, and the group was turned around more than one time trying to make their way through. Gordon, rapidly losing steam in the relentless blaze of the sun, glanced tiredly around at the concrete walls while sweat ran down his face.

“Which way should we go?” he asked, eyes landing on Tommy. “Like I said, you’re de facto leader.”

Oh, he had been serious about that. Tommy cast his eyes around for a way forward and caught a route they hadn’t tried yet. He vaulted over a fallen steel beam and kept going, trusting the others to follow.

Gordon did so without hesitation. “Okay, Tommy’s picking that way,” he called to the team.

“I don’t know why the child gets to lead us,” Bubby grumbled, tagging along begrudgingly.

Tommy opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Gordon beat him to it. “He’s thirty six!” he snapped.

“A mere child,” Bubby insisted.

Coomer was shaking his head at him. “He’s very brave,” he said.

Was he? Right now he was just tired, numbed by the combat, scoured on all sides like a stone in a tumbler. His rifle was heavy in his hands as he methodically filled soldiers with bullets. He didn’t feel brave at all.

Benrey displayed one of his fastest regenerations yet, perishing in a mine explosion and appearing mere minutes later on the roof of the building they were scaling. Tommy shot him a perplexed look, searching for an explanation, but Benrey merely trapped his tongue between his pointed teeth and winked in reply.

Once they were certain the area was clear, they hunkered down in a storage room, away from the glaring sun and the helicopter blades, to rest. Gordon slid against the wall and down to the floor, utterly beat. Tommy spared a glance at the ruin that was his arm. It didn’t look any worse - whatever his father had done, it was at least keeping the wound from siphoning away Gordon’s life - but it was still a place where a hand should be that a hand was not.

He felt a brief bloom of anger in his stomach, remembering the person responsible was in this very room with them. Along with… a skeleton, for some reason. It mirrored the entity’s movements like a rattling doppelganger.

“Hey, hey,” Gordon spoke up woozily. “Can we have someone on medical watch? Can one of y - if I start convulsing in my sleep, I need one of you to wake me up. I don’t know if I’m gonna wake up from this.”

Before Tommy could assure him that he was always on watch, Benrey approached Gordon, shoulder to shoulder with the skeleton and passport in hand. “Where’s yours?” he asked. A crossbow was cradled in his free arm, pointed in a casual threat at Gordon.

The man stared fearlessly back. “I give up,” he told him, acid in his voice. “I’m gonna go to bed. And if you shoot me in the head while I’m asleep? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

Tommy would care, and he made it known by the dangerous glare he pierced Benrey with. The entity ignored him and turned away while Gordon leaned his head back against the wall, sleep already taking him.

“Goodnight, guys,” he murmured. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tommy pressed his back to the cold concrete, rifle across his knees, to wait things out until morning. He was steadily growing used to the man beside him saying that every night. Gentle voice thick with drowsiness, long eyelashes fluttering shut. He rubbed the side of his face, willing himself not to fantasize and failing.

One day, when this was all over, they could have this.

“Goodnight.”

Chapter 12 <-----> Chapter 14

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #guns #violence #hlvrai

3 notes · View notes

ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Text

Road Trip : Punk!AU

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader, Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer Word Count: 2,589 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: Here we gooooo! Part one is complete and we are on the road! Part two will be coming by @heroics-and-heartbreak at their leisure. Enjoy!

Part I – Coming Out of My Cage

Aevryn hung up the phone, closed out of Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook, took a deep breath and then walked into the little diner.

“It’s done,” she announced. The little ragtag group she addressed sat slumped in the booth. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged shrugs of resignation, Win gave Aevryn an encouraging smile, and you rubbed comforting circles into Jaskier’s back. He was clearly the most upset of all of you which was hard because he also set the tone for the rest of the group 75% of the time.

“Did Andrzej say when the bus would be fixed?” Geralt asked.

“They’re going to have to do some extensive work,” she said, voice falling into her most professional, clear tone as she repeated the words she’d recited to all of the venues you’d have to miss, “They said it could be as long as two weeks but they’re hoping to get it done in one.”

Jaskier slumped further, the pendant clunking against the linoleum tabletop.

“So we’re stuck here til then?” Yennefer asked.

“Not necessarily,” Aevryn said, taking her seat next to Win who placed a hand on her thigh and patted it comfortingly, “We just won’t be able to get to those places in time to perform. But they’ve agreed to refund the tickets or offer replacements for when we do them on the way back down the countryside.”

Win looked at you and could see the wheels turning in your eyes, sensing that you had a plan even before you lifted your gaze to hers and gave her that eureka smile you got when you had a scathingly brilliant idea.

“So we don’t stay here,” you said. Jaskier raised his head to look at you, skeptical but intrigued. “We do a road trip.”

“A road trip?” Geralt echoed.

“Yeah! We get a beat up van or something and we hit the road and when the tour bus is fixed it can meet up with us wherever we’re at!” you exclaimed, looking around the table for support.

“I’m in, that sounds fun as hell!” Win piped up, sharing a smile with their best friend who beamed at them and then looked over at Aevryn who was running the numbers.

“We could do that,” she said, “If we made sure we stayed in contact with Andrzej.”

“What do you think babe?” you asked Jaskier who had started to sit up a bit more, his sky blue eyes slowly clearing.

“It has been a long time since we were able to spend time together without working,” he said, turning to look at his bandmates. Yennefer nodded but you could see that Geralt’s furrowed brows were not convinced.

“Hmm,” Geralt began, a bad sign, “I don’t know, Jaskier. It may be safer for us to stick close by.”

“That isn’t very punk rock of you, Geralt,” Yennefer said coolly, sipping her coffee nonchalantly as though she couldn’t feel Geralt’s glowering stare shooting daggers in her direction.

“Road trip it is then,” Geralt snapped, “I’ll get the van.”

-----

“It’s perfect!” Jaskier cried, arms out wide as though he was preparing to hug the vehicle Geralt had driven back to them a suspiciously short while later. It was a vintage Volkswagen bus in a tawny brown and white. The front seats had wooden beads strapped to them and Geralt leaned with his arm around the wheel, shooting Yennefer a challenging look.

“What do you think, Yen? Isn’t she beautiful?” Jaskier asked excitedly, totally oblivious to the tension between Geralt. Well, oblivious or just desensitized after years of it going on at low levels around him.

“It’s a beast,” she said in a tone that wasn’t quite critical but also wasn’t clearly praising. It was also uncertain whether she spoke about the bus or the man she stared at as she answered who gave her a rueful smirk in response.

“This is what we should be doing these tours in,” Jaskier insisted, pulling you with him to jump inside and claim a seat. The car smelled like stale smoke and the seats crunched beneath you with a plastic covering that you knew was going to stick to your thighs after sitting on it for too long. It was perfect.

“We’ll see how you feel after sleeping in it for a week,” Yennefer said, taking the front passenger seat promptly.

“Hey nobody got a chance to call shotgun,” Win protested, though only jokingly as she and Aevryn had plans for the backseat anyway. Yennefer looked at her through the tops of her sunglasses.

“Guess you’ll have to draw quicker next time,” she said in a voice that sounded cold but a smile that was warm as she leaned back against the seat, the dark hair tangling in the wooden beads. The bus roared to life and they set off down the road, getting about as far as the exit for the highway before Jaskier announced that it was actually illegal to have a road trip without snacks and Geralt stopped by a gas station so they could get some supplies. The little bell above the door dinged a welcome and the man behind the counter gave you the barest glance and nod as you walked in. You split up to cover different corners of the convenience store, a couple of baskets between you to pile in things as you went.

“Ok I think we have all the food groups,” you said before long, looking down in the basket that held a large bag of sour gummy worms, a tub of red vines, two bags of chips (doritos and harvest cheddar sun chips), a couple of king size Hershey bars, three cans of pringles, and a multipack of pop tarts.

“This has actual food in it,” Yennefer said, casually chucking in a bag of trail mix that she knew you all would just pick the m&ms out to eat.

“Drinks?” Geralt asked, heading to the cooler with the rest of you hurrying in his wake.

“Waters,” Yennefer said, giving you all a look that said it was happening whether you liked it or not and she grabbed a few big bottles of Smartwater. Geralt rolled his eyes and threw some Arrowhead in the basket.

“Obviously Redbull,” Aevryn said, pulling open the door only to have Jaskier stall her hand with his.

“I think you mean Monster,” he corrected. She cocked an eyebrow at him and pulled a face.

“Don’t do this, Jaskier. Not here. Not in public,” she said warningly.

“I’m a Nos girl myself,” you piped up. Both Aevryn and Jaskier turned to give you twin disgusted faces but your plan had worked, giving them a common enemy to keep the fighting to a minimum.

“Just pick one,” Geralt said, suppressing a heavy sigh.

“Yes, one,” Yennefer emphasized, “We’re not buying six different kinds of energy drink.”

“You got two different kinds of water!” Aevryn challenged. Yennefer shot Geralt a look but he just smiled at her irritation which only made her more frustrated.

“Obviously it’s gotta be Rockstar. I mean, come on,” Win said, shaking her head like you were all insane. Yennefer and Geralt gave her a baleful look while Jaskier laughed.

“That’s pretty good. The joke, not he drink, which tastes like piss. Sorry Win,” Jaskier said. She stuck her tongue out at him and you smacked his chest, chastising him for being rude. He pouted at you and gave you puppy dog eyes and you planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Alright,” Geralt said, pushing past the lot of you. He reached into the cooler and pulled out roughly three of every energy drink, only taking care to pull out exactly five Mango Ginger Zevias which pulled a small smile to Yennefer’s lips though she made sure to keep it hidden until he’d passed her and headed up to the counter. He took a brief turn and then wove back into view with a 12 pack of cheap beer.

“Now it’s a road trip,” Jaskier said, pulling you in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey,” Win said, pilling Aevryn’s hand into theirs, distracting her momentarily from the phone she was squinting at with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah! Sorry! Just saw something,” she said, forcing up a smile though Win could tell something was wrong.

“Win, please tell Jask that I’m right and Powerade is better than Gatorade!” you called from the front of store to which Geralt barked something about not sitting through this again. Win shook her head and ran up to the front, preparing their argument for the great Powerade vs. Gatorade debate of 2020.

“Hey,” Yennefer said, walking over to Aevryn as soon as Win left, “What did he do?”

“What makes you think – ok, yeah, it is,” Aevryn said, sighing heavily and handing Yennefer her phone. Yennefer saw it was a DM for Aevryn’s personal twitter:

@valdomarxofficial: heard the concerts were canceled. everything ok?

Yennefer considered the phone for a moment. Aevryn bit her lip and watched Yennefer’s face, looking for something. Disappointment or anger or something tangible to respond to. Her friend just gave the phone the same impassive look she gave most things and then she deleted the DM before handing the phone back to Aevryn.

“I’d block him but you could just undo it,” she said pointedly. She looked towards the front where Win was posing for a selfie with you and then looked back to Aevryn. “Does she know?”

“Yes,” Aevryn said, ‘I mean, there isn’t much too know, honestly! But she knows I have an ex and that it’s…. complicated.”

“It’s really not that complicated, Aev,” Yennefer said. Before she could continue Geralt whistled from the front, pulling Yennefer’s attention towards him to shoot him a scathing glare that made him grin.

“Let’s do, this fucking chocolate’s already melting.”

Aevryn hurried past Yennefer to catch up to Win who took her hand and Yennefer followed suit, tucking the rest of the conversation away for later.

-----

The world passed by in a blur of steel that bled into trees. Jaskier propped his converse-clad feet on the window despite Geralt’s protests and rested his head in your lap to rest while you craned to face Win, joining her and Aevryn in singing along to music from their phone. Yennefer sipped her Zevia and rested her face against the open window, the wind and sun caressing her face and sending her dark locks flowing behind her. You noticed Geralt glancing at her, his eyes following the sun’s progress across her features as though he were imagining that he was offering her with that tender caress, that soft warmth. He saw your looking at him and though you quickly looked away he kept his eyes firmly on the road after, not noticing when Yennefer peeked an eye open to offer her own subtle scrutiny.

It was a fairly peaceful ride all things considered, until Mr. Brightside came on and everyone was forced to scream-sing along (another law according to Jaskier). They had just about reached the chorus when the song cut out, the whole bus pausing with their breath held.

“What happened?”

“It’s lost connection,” Jaskier explained. They finished the song acapella but it wasn’t the same and evrery one was a bit glum until Geralt pulled through McDonald’s. He’d spent enough time with his bandmates, and with people in general, to know that there was very little nuggets couldn’t improve. He rebelliously got a cheeseburger and ordered Yennefer a filet-o-fish but the rest got to share a massive pile of nuggets.

“You ok?” Win asked Aevryn, noticing how she kept picking up her phone and putting it back down again.

“Yeah it’s just… I’m used to always checking things, you know? For work,” she explained, ignoring the look Yennefer sent her in the rearview mirror.

“It’s a vacation for you too, Aev. You gotta loosen up a little,” Jaskier protested. She rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

“Hard to do that when you’re out there accepting every bloody birthday invitation and prom proposal,” she argued. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a little ‘O’ of surprise and indignation.

“What is the point of being a famous musician if we don’t do all the things we wish our favorite bands had done for us?” he asked. Geralt sighed heavily and Yennefer instinctively reached out and patted his thigh, knowing this was a fight they’d heard a thousand times before. Geralt stiffened slightly, looking down at the hand that rested on his thigh, but she didn’t pull away when he did. She offered him a small smile and she could see he wanted to return it but turned back to the road. Only when he shifted in his seat did she remove her hand, putting it back in her lap and looking out into the sunset as it bathed the land around them in gorgeous oranges and fuchsias that were muted by her warring emotions.

As evening crept into night and the signal didn’t come back Jaskier found a map tucked into the front seat pocket. It was old and yellowed but the land was the same and he handed it to Yennefer.

“I don’t need a map,” Geralt grumbled.

“Geralt don’t be stupid, you’re not even from America,” Yennefer replied.

“Roach and I know where we’re going,” he mumbled.

“Sorry – did you name the van?” Jaskier asked, his eyes lighting up with amusement that only doubled when he saw Geralt glare bashfully, not realizing he’d been overheard.

“Maybe,” he grunted.

“Oh that’s adorable! But why Roach?” Jaskier asked, crinkling his nose up.

“Because I found a dead roach in it and the dealer knocked off another hundred for it,” Geralt answered simply. Jaskier paled and then it was Geralt’s turn to be amused as he stifled a yawn.

“At the next exit you need to pull over so we can switch drivers,” Yennefer said.

“Nobody else is driving Roach,” Geralt answered, not caring who overheard his name for the van now that the secret was out. Part of Geralt’s allure was that once he said or did something he committed to it so hard it became not only acceptable, but cool. Yennefer remained unimpressed.

“How are you going to drive all night?” she argued. He slid one hand to the cup holder and lifted the half-empty can of a dangerous looking energy drink called Power Horse, gesturing it at her before taking a pull off of it. Yennefer rolled her eyes and folded the map back up.

“Fine,” she said, “But if you get us wrapped around a tree or worse, stuck in some field in the middle of nowhere, I get to decide the punishment.”

“Well you know how I like to be punished,” he said, fixing her with a smile that would have been charming on someone else but was devastating on him. Her face remained impassive but when she rolled her head back to face the window you could see the reflection of her smile in it as she settled in to rest. Aevryn leaned against the side of the van and Win lay against her, pulling the blanket they’d found tucked under the set against them. You and Jaskier cuddled together, this time your head resting in his lap so he could stroke your hair and hum a song for you until you fell fast asleep to the sound of his voice and the steady rumble of the van winding its ways through the countryside.

#Punk!AU #Vicious Mockery AU #Punk!Jaskier x Reader #Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer #Punk!Aevryn #Road Trip

31 notes · View notes

juniebjoneswrites · 3 years

Text

Bring Me Home // Harry Styles

Acceptance (1)

My eyes are closed and my whole body is tingling like I left it for too long in a nightmare and it's finally waking up slow and groggy. I'm surrounded suddenly by cold winter air as a door opens. Someone in the distance calls my name but I can't dig myself back up to reach them. My toes wiggle and dance with the dirt in my sandals and I reach for that feeling. My arms cover my chest, stopping the cold from hitting my wet bathing suit and I can't help but wonder if this is what he felt like, it must have been cold. Wet and cold, with the ocean spraying sand and foam.

"June?" My eyes flutter open. The broken, fluorescent bulbs of a gas station throw sickly, yellowing shadows over my sister. I look around and the only door I'm in front of is the freezer section. The frozen single-serve pizzas are staring back at me sadly.

I look down at her hands and see the Powerade she grabbed, bags of chips, and a gallon of water. "I'm back," I say slowly. I grab the water, becoming fully aware of my cottonmouth. Taking big gulps I think of my brief and tragic winter vaca hallucination and remember it was definitely summer. Guzzling this water as if it were from the Tuck Everlasting spring itself and I'd live forever, I glance at the aisle mirror. Unfortunately for this man I caught him staring at my sister and I. I cap the jug and hand it back to her, "go pay."

I turn my back, heading to the corner where his aisle and mine meet. "What's up?" I ask bluntly, "Do you usually creep on scantily clad women who're minding their business?" getting to him I realize how I shrink in his presence and the tiredness his face holds. And there was something else.. Familiarity.

He looks uncomfortable, "Was just making sure you weren't dead on your feet," he smiles nervously, "I tried to chat with you before your friend came in but you didn't respond."

I squint my eyes, if they weren't so glossy and my head didn't feel like it belonged underwater then maybe I could have placed him. But alas, like offerings to Xibalba, the stars were not in position for this tribute. Aka me. I again cross my arms and let out an "mhm." Angrily plucking a snack from his hand and walking away, I'm very aware of how many he can hold in the same hand as his bottled water.

I want to ask my sister if listening to all those true crime podcasts have done nothing for her since she's waiting for me in the darkened parking lot. But I figure the wrong place, wrong time. The lot is riddled with potholes and faded paint and there's usually one kid hanging around the outskirts, seemingly waiting for someone. She tosses me the Powerade and some Visine eye drops. "That bad?" I ask.

"They're as bad as your sunburned ass," she laughs, I shrug. We can't win them all.

We cross the deserted street to the ocean where the fire is blazing and our six closest friends are waiting for us. The waves lap the shoreline and the moon shines high above like a nightlight I had once wanted to kiss, but now holds my secrets. I disliked the dark, but I dislike the heavy stare the moon now follows me with even more. I heard laughing, crackling fire, and the subtle sounds of a playlist through speakers. I could almost forget why we were there. I vaguely register a car driving off as my sister takes my hand.

"Is it time?" she asks, standing near the fire. Sam gets up from a log, shakes his brown curls from his face and stands at the shore line. Craning his neck upwards he checks the moon's position. Just this once I wished it would close it's eye. He makes a sound that seems like a "yes," as it struggles to leave his throat and I can't tell if it's from the angle of his neck or the emotions of what we're here to do.

Sam grabs the box and we walk to the boat they probably used in the Notebook. We row over to the crag of ocean rocks that leads to a trail up a cliffside. No one speaks. I can feel a wetness coming over my cheeks that I'm certain had nothing to do with the ocean spray. We tie the boat to a tree and move up the cliff. I will my sandals to corporate and keep me right but that's like asking seaweed to keep the shark steady so I let the cliff wall guid me instead. Slowly the rocks and granite turn to dirt, and grass and I know we made it to the top. From this point, the moon sits perfectly centered over the cliff's edge. I can feel the choices we've made and how this is completely and utterly the best one.

I hear laughter again, feel the excitement, the friendship. However this time it's not something any passing person would see. It's a memory of many times that had come before and many times that would not come again. We open the box. A small blue and silver ceramic pot sits inside. Sam pulls it out, walks over to the edge and pours a little in his hand. He tosses his brother's ashes into the sea that took him. The final middle finger Elijah would have given if he had been alive to do so. Except if he was alive he could give two and I know one would be for me. I close my eyes as he throws the rest.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That beach and gas station were still part of our stomping grounds, but that summer it was less frequent and we spent more time cuddled on couches and wandering graveyards. Death will make you do strange things. Guilt will make you do stranger. I watched days, weeks, even months blur together until finally it felt like the fever broke and I woke up. Fall feels like a rebirth, a brief moment of clarity before winter asks if that's what you really want. I dress and drive to the gas station.

Turning off my car I can feel the cool wind coming from the shoreline. Walking to the waves I crane my neck the way Sam did and wish for the moon above me. I need to know what it saw. The ocean spray cools my body and nerves while waves kick sand on my boots. I stand there listening to the crashing for some time before someone pulls me from my depths.

I turn around to see the gas station worker, he waves. "Where did you kids go?" he calls over the crashing. "I thought you forgot about old Seb," he chuckles as he walks to meet me. "Was worried something happened,"

"Something did... happen," I reply. He frowns, understanding my emphasis. "Yeah," I say heavily. I start walking away, I want to go to the cliffs. He stops me.

"You know that guy came back a few nights later," he pauses, "he was looking for you. Said something like wanting 'to make sure that girl was alright,'" he pauses. "It took me a minute to realize he was talking about you. He said you looked sad," I must look confused because he fumbles on, "uh.. he uh was there the last night you and your friends were here...." he trails off, gesturing to the shore, "tall, dark hair, had an accent."

I trace that night back to it's beginning when a memory hits. Oh. Now, how does one tell Mr. Harry Styles, "Sorry about last night, it's just that I was sad and angry and had to spread my friends ashes"? Because unlike John Mulaney I haven't lost the best excuse I have.

"Has he been back since?" I ask.

"Only once," he replies.

I smile a smile that has stopped reaching my eyes and pat his arm as I walk away, "Thanks, Seb." I say. I make it a few yards before he calls again.

"Oh! I gave him your name," I hear the triumph in his voice. Seb wasn't always the best for remembering. He's getting older and lost his wife a few years back.They ran the station together but ever since she passed it's just been him. We told him to hire help, even to hire one of us since that was our go-to snack shop when we're at the beach. However, he's a stubborn man and refuses the help he doesn't think he needs. I turn around to see him smile his wide, goofy smile and for a brief moment I'm happy with him.

"Did you now?" I ask playfully, "Then why hasn't my mysterious man found me yet?"

He shrugs, "Maybe just waiting for the right time, or to find you at my shop again," he smiles wide.

"Maybe," I respond, "I guess I'll have to come around more," I start walking away but suddenly I turn on my heels, as if forced by unseen hands, "Maybe instead, Seb, you could hire me? Increase my chances at seeing him."

He pauses to think. I know he thinks he doesn't need help, but I know he does and I need to help someone since I can't help myself. Or maybe I'm a masochist. Or maybe if I can meet my "mystery" man I'd have a break from this nightmare.

He sighs and walks over, "Well I guess it would be okay, since it's for love and all,"

I almost kiss him. "You're one lucky man, Seb." I put my arm around his shoulder, facing his station, and wave it in an arch like we were imagining a better world, "With my help we might even fix those potholes." He laughs and I lead him back to the station to fill out my paperwork.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I never make it to the cliffs, I end up helping Seb well into the night. When I pull up to my apartment I see my sister's car in a guest spot. I sigh heavily, taking a long drink of my melted slushie and make my way inside. She's asleep on my couch with reruns of the Golden Girls playing and a plate of uneaten food on the coffee table.

She wakes as I sit on the floor between her and the table and pick at the food. "Where were you?" she asks.

"I got a job working for Seb," I hold up the slushie.

"What? He actually hired you?" she half sits up, "What kind?"

I stick out my blue tongue and she lays back down in disgust. She likes the red. "Yes, Jo, my sweet talking is good for more than drinks in a bar," I say dryly.

"Well maybe you can get him to have better snacks," she opens the covers for me to join her. I crawl under the blankets with my big sister like I'm a child again and hope the protection she offers will keep my dreams at bay. But like many sailors and ships lost to its melody of waves, the siren sea calls me back.

1 / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6)

1 note · View note