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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 9 months

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tagged by @ragnarokhound <3

name: kai (yes im a trans man named kai, its a good name, okay?)

pronouns: he/they

where do you call home: eh the general answer is west of england, midlands and up. theres a sentimental answer but its a pretty small area so im not gonna potentially dox myself in a tag game dhdjsjs

favourite animal: walrus all the way, baby! although my url is actually unrelated to my love of walruses. theyre just the best animals, theyre big old chunky boys with two big front teeth that can grow to over 3ft in length. when on land, they huddle together in cuddle piles. AND mama walruses can use their flippers to pick up their babies and cuddle them to their chest; tell me thats not the cutest thing youve heard today.

cereal of choice: im not really a cereal person or like a breakfast person at all, but if im having it, golden nuggets or nothin'

visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner: ...all of them? idk, it depends on what im learning. auditory probably less so than the others just because my auditory processing isnt just trash, its trash the binmen wont take.

first pet: my parents had four cats before they had me and my brother so i guess them? they were thomas, alfred, cally and misty. my uncle, who incidentally doesnt believe in seatbelts, named alfred.

favourite scent:

no but seriously i have a very strong scent of smell which is part of why im such a picky eater like im yet to meet a food that smelt bad and tasted good, but i just,,,, dont have a favourite scent?

my brother gave me a lynx body spray of his he didnt want pretty soon after i came out the third time, as trans this time, and its definitely a he got the spirit moment so i guess that.

do you believe in astrology: nah, its not my thing really. all the more to you if its yours as long as you dont try to ascribe my behaviour to me being a taurus, thats the mental illness or the autism or the adhd or the neurological disorder thats pushing my eyes out of my skull very slowly.

how many playlists on spotify/apple music: 28 which is more than i thought i had. right now, theres only like 3 im cycling through named dead reckoning, the old swan, and dutch angle / danish pastry.

sharpies or highlighters: yeah so like, we could never afford sharpies in my house so its highlighters my default. sharpies are like mega expensive in the uk and by mega expensive, i mean unaffordable for a child of a working class single parent.

songs that make you cry: hmm. thats kinda difficult because whether i cry depends almost entirely on my mood. if i had to name some, i guess id go with:

a little fall of rain, turning and empty chairs at empty tables from the london cast recording of les mis (its vital to specify this, okay?); george blagdens secret? recording of drink with me; breathe from in the heights; flowers, doubt comes in, promises, gone im gone, and we raise our cups from hadestown (are you sensing a theme yet?); unruly heart from the prom; here i go again specifically from the rock of ages musical (and NOT the tom cruise movie, i saw this musical live and i cried); i know where ive been by queen latifah, and also from pretty much any hairspray cast recording; if i met myself again, ugly in this ugly world and hes my boy from everybodys talking about jaime and i have sobbed at all three of these songs.

and finally: grandmas song, deep into the ground, he could be a star and once we were kids from billy elliot, and yes i cry at most of act 2, i was raised working class in a working class area that was once revered for its industry and has since been forgotten and left to drown in poverty, how am i meant to not cry at it?

songs that make you happy: hmm again. throw the entirety of the first mamma mia soundtrack onto the list. then welcome to paradise & coming clean by green day (when i was a very depressed teenager, listening to green day always made me feel better, both about the world and about myself); the irony of choking of a lifesaver by all time low because its moms favourite song of theirs and weve gone to see them live five times together; merry christmas maggie thatcher from billy elliot because fuck that bitch; legend of coco chanel from everybodys talking about jaime; sexy from the mean girls musical; do it for your lover by manel navarro; strangers & i dont want to talk about me by stereo jane (the strangers music video is so fucking bisexual yall); king of my heart by sub-radio; ghost ship of cannibal rats by billy talent; carpe diem by joker out; who the hell is edgar by teya and salena; let me entertain you by robbie williams because i sang it in karaoke as a 7 year old who did not know the words and then proceeded to get obsessed with robbie fucking williams for a while; slipping away by materia; and 68 guns by the alarm which is a funny little one because it reminds me of my dad but i still enjoy the song and ive made a conscious choice not to limit my music taste just because some asshole whos not even a good hobby ghost hunter likes it too, you know?

do you write/draw/create: all three! granted i havent done much of the first two in a while, but on my defense, losing 7-8 months worth of your memories kind of fucks you up and its oddly time consuming. also developing fainting attacks and spending a week in hospital while they fail to figure out whats wrong with you other than weirdly low blood pressure does not help. but i do have a drawing planned out to do and while i went a little too much detail on one small detail (i will justify it as soon as i actually finish it), im going to finish it. i also do origami pretty often as well as baking, and i am currently building a wooden replica of the titanic AND LISTEN, i started before the titan submersible stuff happened and i havent touched it yet because it just feels weird to, you know? also, i didnt even want to do the titanic, but like, good luck finding any starter kits that arent a) titanic and b) upwards of a £100. i would love to do a ss malolo or a mts stockholm but that aint happening and while i might be able to find an ss normandy or ss united states, im not gonna be able to afford. its titanic or bust which sucks.

tagging but no pressure: @bottlesandbarricades @vaellusvitutus @rad-roach

#tag games #ragnarokhound #big thank for tag <33

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stellar-imagines · 5 years

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SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝wallflower.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Amajiki Tamaki ]

「Midoriya, Kirishima and Tamaki reacting when their Wallflower S/O who always appeared to have a really lazy and messy Sense of Style (Oversized, Old, Ordinary clothes and messy hairstyle) suddenly show up on Prom in the most elegant and formal, with a bit of sex appeal.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Midoriya sees no problem with your fashion sense. At school, you appeared with messy hair and your uniform would be done poorly until the girls decide to help you with it. The blazer was always unbuttoned and the tie around your neck would be placed just like a scarf. It was probably because you were rushing to school, that was what he thought. When he started dating you, he came to realize that it was just your style. You were a shy person to begin with, always avoiding the crowds and observing others. Midoriya used to be very timid, frequently overreacting, reserved and insecure. These traits might've been because he was quirkless back then.

But he has changed into a more confident and brave person who's not afraid to speak his mind. There were times you felt a bit awkward with the way you were dressed. Your female classmates were a lively bunch who often invited you out to the mall. And seeing how different their style was made you wonder if your own was weird but the girls assured you that it was a part of you and that it can't be changed. Sometimes it looked like you just threw on whatever you grabbed in the closet. Well, they were comfortable and you liked your clothes. Midoriya doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he gets really blushy when you were over-sized clothes. And what's important was that you're comfortable in whatever you were wearing.

The prom was meant for graduate students and it made him think about how time flys so fast. There were a few people who questioned how UA managed to get a hotel ballroom. It was still early and he believed that it was because Iida proposed going there earlier. Midoriya initially planned to go with you together but you had waved him off, assuring him that you would come together with the girls after you dressed up. When he thought about it, this might be the first time you would be wearing a dress. On other formal occasions, you usually barely manage to pull off the formal look and end up with messed up hair and a slightly over-sized blouse. You had mentioned that you wanted to look good during Prom night, even going as far as to drag the girls to the shopping mall.

"The girls helped me. I hope it doesn't look too weird." you mumbled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

A thin-strapped dress that showed off your striking shoulders, elongate your legs while de-emphasizing your midsection. It's a high-low dress that shows your legs in the front and drapes in the back for an elegant look. The v neck runs a bit lower, dangerously close to your chest and your upper back was exposed but your hair was long enough to cover it. Midoriya has never seen you dress up so nicely before. Your hair was done in a nice way, draping over your shoulders and flowing smoothly. His heart was beating and now its beating faster than its supposed to be.

"I-It doesn't look weird! It looks really good on you." his face was red all over and he was avoiding looking at you, afraid that his eyes might wander off to somewhere he wasn't supposed to look. He had never seen you were something that showed your body off.

"Really?"

"Y-Yes! You look pretty!" he nods with a nervous smile.

"See? You didn't have to worry about how Deku-kun thinks! I knew he would like the dress!" Uraraka smiled, holding your shoulders.

"But, I've never wore something that exposes a lot of skin before." you replied.

"It looks really good on you!" Midoriya assured you again with an enthusiastic nod.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

Kirishima never complains about how you dress. Your hair was never done properly as you never bothered to brush it and you often just leave it as it is. When the two of you were relaxing, he likes to run his hand through your hair but often got caught in the knotted edges which he struggled with countless of times. Most of your clothes were old and over-sized, sliding off your shoulder so often that he had to remind you to wear something underneath it. It's not that it doesn't suit you but it attracts a lot of attention somehow. Seeing you in over-sized clothes soon became something of the norm, even your nightwear was always old clothes with a few smudges here and there. Then again, who are you trying to impress?

No one really sees you in night wear anyway. But now that you're living in the dorms, you cannot escape. However, your friends didn't seem to care what you were wearing as long as you were covered. You rarely dressed up and Kirishima doesn't force you to do so. He doesn't mind if you come to dates wearing your favorite over-sized shirt that goes past your knees and has been mistaken for a dress by him countless of times. He thinks its cute.

When prom came by, he was surrounded with students who were dressed nicely. Boys were dressed in suits but he can see Bakugou complaining about the tie and decided to leave a button unbuttoned because it was suffocating him. Girls were wearing pretty dresses that seemed like it was made for this special occasion. Kirishima himself initially did not own a suit and had to buy one. Ashido had mentioned something about you wanting to surprise him and told him to go to the venue first. He wonders what kind of surprise you had in mind as he waits by the lobby. It was still early, thanks to Iida who had ushered the boys to hurry up and ended up arrived half an hour earlier. The crowd was slowly increasing, students from different years and classes came in groups, either with a date or their friends.

"Sorry to make you wait, Kirishima!" Ashido's loud voice snapped Kirishima from whatever he was thinking about. He tore his attention away from the people making themselves comfortable inside the ballroom and his eyes landed on his pink haired friend.

The straps that held your dress was a bit thin, he noted, revealing your shoulders to the world. It was a spaghetti strap plus a plunging neckline type which gave everyone a nice view of the top of your breasts. The dress runs shorter than he had anticipated, reaching your mid-thighs and he was sure that one light flip will reveal your underwear. It was cute and sexy that his manly heart can't take it!

"I know, it's a bit weird right?" you laughed, absentmindedly toying with a strand of your hair and avoiding his wandering eyes.

"No! You look pretty and hot!" Kirishima engulfed you into a hug, pressing his cheek against yours. One of his hands slid around your waist and pulled you even closer, making you squeak.

"Come on, Kirishima, stop harassing your girlfriend, we have a Prom to attend!" Hagakure teased.

"Tooru!" you glared at the invisible girl with narrowed eyes, pulling away from Kirishima.

"I'm not harassing! I'm admiring!" Kirishima pouted.

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

It was starting to get a bit windy. As he waited in front of the class for you to finish up a conversation with your friend, he rubbed his hands together, the draught let in by the opened window somewhere in the building. After a few moments, you had poked his arm, giving him a small smile before the two of you decided to walk back to the dorms together. The suddenly windy weather caused a few complaints. there were girls who went on about how it would mess up their hair. On the other hand, you were busy looking at the path in front of you, not even bothered by the fact the wind was messing your already unruly hair. Tamaki never made a comment about your fashion sense and he believes that its not necessary. You wore clothes that don't even fit you that well, large and always over-sized. Old clothes were still piled up neatly inside your closet too.

Tamaki didn't mind at all. They looked good on you and you seem to be comfortable. But there were times that it would appear too big and ended up becoming a dress of some sort. For a moment, he recalled the numerous times you wore those dress shirts that fall above your mid-thighs. His face burned at the thought and he quickly shook his head as if the those thoughts would disappear when he did. Your hair is always unruly but that's how it is. He likes to slip his fingers between the locks and rake through them to straighten them out, but he's always too nervous to do that.

When the announcement for the Prom came, he was nervous. What was he gonna wear? What is he supposed to do in a party? Can he just stay at the corner until its over? He got all his answers when Mirio dragged him to buy a suit and told him to just have fun. Initially, Mirio and him were going to go to Prom together with you and Nejire. But the blue-haired girl told the boys to head on all on their own. You assured them that you'll both be there, just a bit late. True to you word, both you and Nejire arrived just a few minutes the boys did.

"Ta-da! Look and behold Amajiki!" Nejire moved her hands over to you like she was showing off.

"Stop, Nejire.....you're embarrassing me." you muttered. The girl giggled and moved around you till she was standing right behind you. She grabbed hold of your shoulders and beamed at Tamaki.

"What do you think? She looks cute and sexy right?"

What did he think? The way it hugs your figure, accentuating your curves and legs, the smallest of details didn't go unnoticed. He had seen your legs before but, oh good God, did they look amazing now. Your shirt often slipped to reveal your shoulders but this was a bit too much. A strapless dress that exposed your back and a bit of your breasts. And are those thigh highs and heels?!

"Makes you wanna do her right!?"

"Hadou! You can't say that kind of thing in public!" Tamaki squeaked, his entire face bright red.

Total: 1730 words Published: 03.10.2019

We’re open for some limited edition prompts featuring Fall and Halloween! Read more here!

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ Sorry to make you wait soo long We’re both like, somewhat a Wallflower too?? If you mean by a person who could be called shy, someone who doesn't feel comfortable around other people. They don't like to have attention on them because it makes them uncomfortable. That’s us! PS, we suck at describing clothes so spare us ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! I’ve been called a Wallflower by my closest friends and Lou as well and I was pretty confused about what it meant. So I googled it and apparently, I’m a southern European plant of the cabbage family?? But no www Anyways, we both hope you enjoyed the scenarios! ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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adams · 4 years

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the only time i feel good falling (is when i'm falling fast and hard for you) // stenbrough // ao3 // for lil <3 // playlist

The year is 1994, and Bill Denbrough is going to ask Stan Uris to the prom. That is, if Stan doesn't ask Patty Blum first.

part one of two: saturday january 29, 1994

The year was 1994, and the Loser’s Club was in full swing, screaming along to grunge rock and alternative pop at the top of their lungs, all piled on each other’s lap in Mike’s truck, spilling popcorn all over the seats in crowded movie theaters, swapping sodas, and kicking each other out of the hammock in their clubhouse. The seven of them (eight, when Georgie insisted on being included) were inseparable. You could always find at least a pair of them tangled up together, napping on the broken down couch that they had found and dragged into the clubhouse or swimming and splashing around in the cold water of the quarry in early spring before the sun has time to warm the water for the season.

The year was 1994, and the Loser’s were seniors in high school, planning for their futures. They were in the final stretch of the school year, taking the last of their public school classes. Some were making up for lost credits, like Richie and Beverly, who had both missed more than their fair share of biology lessons to go out back and smoke hand-rolled cigarettes in the Derry Senior High’s tennis courts, while other Loser’s were working on obtaining as much extra credit as humanly possible. Eddie was interning with the local hospital, well on his way to earning a CNA degree before even finishing high school first, while Mike spent countless hours volunteering at the Derry Library, where he aided the regular librarians in cleaning, organizing, and developing children’s programming, even bringing in some of his grandfather’s ranch animals on occasion. Ben had found himself a pastime at the gym, gaining muscle, confidence, and the attention of many girls across the campus, though he famously, and kindly, turned down anyone who asked him out. He only had eyes for one girl, and Beverly knew how lucky she was.

Though they were all growing up and finding their differences from one another, they were close as they ever were, and then some.

The year was 1994, and the Losers had steadily climbed the rungs of the social ladder, so that by the time of their senior year, they were ready and willing to date. Mike, handsome and charismatic, had dated a handful of girls by that point, and was seeing a sweet girl by the name of Hannah Bishop. She was a blonde on the track team with Ben, but most importantly, she got along well with the rest of the Losers, making her the longest standing of Mike’s girlfriends.

Richie and Eddie had gotten their heads out of their asses by sophomore homecoming, when Richie had finally let himself come out to his friends, and Eddie practically leapt into his arms to kiss him on the spot. They kept the PDA down to a dull roar at school, still nervous of other kids’ reactions, but were still inseparable at the heart of it.

Bill and Beverly had long since broken up, reaching an amicable end partway through freshman year. They felt too young to settle into something serious, and still got nervous attempting to kiss in front of their friends, and knew they weren’t meant to be.

Bev had no trouble moving on, though, and after finding out that her most beloved possession, the Derry postcard with the sweetest poem written on the back that she had found after one of her most cherished memories, a day at the quarry with her boys, was written by none other than Ben Hanscom himself, she wasted no time in claiming him for her own, as if he had ever been anything but hers. Bill, though, had never seemed to move on in the same way. The vast majority of the school assumed he was still fixated on his redheaded friend, but most of the Losers knew better.

It was 1994, and Bill Denbrough was in love with Stanley Uris.

Stan, once an uptight, strange child, had grown into an uptight, strange young man. He was smart, in the running for valedictorian, and funnier than even Richie sometimes, with his quick wit and dry sense of humor. His unruly curls grew longer, framing his face and moved gently around him when he laughed or shook his head, disparaging as a disapproving parent, but always with the glint of humor in his eyes. The Losers never had to explain themselves to him; he always seemed to understand his friends almost better than they did themselves, which is why it infuriated most of them to no end when he insisted that his best friend and fearless leader Bill was still in love with Beverly Marsh, even three years after the definitive end of their relationship, if you could ever really call two fourteen year olds too shy to hold hands for fear of their friends’ mocking a relationship.

Even after the end of everything, though, Stan never made fun. The other Losers liked to tease Bill and Beverly about their sandbox romance, with even Ben throwing in a joke or two occasionally about having “stolen Bill’s girl,” Stan didn’t play along. He’d roll his eyes and move the conversation along, having settled into the much needed role of babysitter when it came to hanging out with the Losers. Even Mike was childish and liked to throw paper balls that once came in the shape of long-lost love letters around the clubhouse, but somehow, the ever-present Peter Pan syndrome never stuck to the most stoic member of the group when it came to the romances and heartbreaks of his friends. It was the kind of tact that Bill admired about him. Bill admired a lot about him.

One of his oldest friends, Bill knew Stan like the back of his hand. He knew which buttons to press to get him to shout and jump like a fool with the rest of them, he knew exactly which pleading look to give to make Stan roll his eyes and grab Bill’s hand, letting the tall auburn-haired boy pull him into the bed of Mike’s truck that Eddie was always fixing up right before the designated driver for the night sped off onto the highway, looking for some sort of fun. But most of all, Bill knew that Stan was different, like the rest of the Losers.

The day River Phoenix died only a few months before hit the group like a ton of bricks, but none of them cried, except for Stanley, who had a secret copy of My Own Private Idaho on tape hidden on his bookshelf between ornithology journals that no one except for Bill knew about. None of the Losers cried over the tragic death of a young celebrity except for Stanley, the strange and uptight boy who loved a strange movie a little too much to be a coincidence. Bill thought that he had put the pieces together, he thought that it meant that maybe, just maybe, Stan was different like him, like Richie and Eddie were different. Bill thought that he may have a chance to be with the boy he was in love with, and immediately began planning the most romantic and devastatingly cheesy set up in the history of Derry Senior High, starting with asking Stan to prom in early February. That was the ideal time, he thought, since it was early enough to get a head start, but not so early that Stan would be blindsided.

Bill knew that he had a chance with Stan, or at least he thought he did, until the last Saturday of January, when Stanley asked Patty Blum to prom.

Saturday, January 29, 1994, Three Months to Prom

“Richie, I swear to all that is holy in this world,” Beverly said, waving her hand with a not quite yet lit cigarette held between her fingers, “if you make me late to chemistry again tomorrow morning, I’m going to end your life.”

“I didn’t say that I’m actually going to go make out with Eddie in the locker room after his gym class, I just said it would be hot,” Richie said, waggling his finger like a chastising mother, “There’s a massive difference.”

“Not if Eddie agrees with you!”

“And I didn’t agree with him!” Eddie shouted, sounding guilty already, as though if given the chance before Bev piped up he would have agreed.

The group was in Bill’s backyard, huddled around a small bonfire near the back edge of the property. It was unusually warm that afternoon for a winter day, so they decided to make smores and hope that certain members of their exclusive club couldn’t find anything to catch on fire, either purposefully (Richie) or accidentally (Bill). They had all gathered only about 45 minutes prior to the locker room conversation, with Mike arriving earliest after dropping his girlfriend off at home, and Stan being the latest arrival, as he had… still not arrived. Bill pretended not to notice too much, but as ever, he wore his heart on his sleeve and looked over his shoulder to the gate door next to the house every few minutes, hoping for Stan to arrive soon.

“Stop being so antsy, Bill,” Ben said, nudging him with a stick to get his attention. “Stan will get here when he gets here.”

Bev draped herself across her boyfriend’s lap and put a hand against her forehead and spoke in a poor imitation of Bill’s voice, complete with the distinctive stutter that he was slowly growing out of, “I just c-can’t live wih-without him near me, Ben. Stan is muh-my light ah-and stars.”

“Hardy huh-har har, Bev,” Bill said, straight faced and unamused, “I just wuh-want to get stuh-st-started on the s-smores already.”

He might have convinced his friends if his face didn’t immediately betray him by lighting up when he turned around at the sound of the gate swinging open, making a sudden noise as the wood door smacked into the side of the fence as Stan drug his bike into the backyard. Stan’s face was red, and so were his gloveless fingers, but his face was broken into an uncharacteristically wide smile as he dropped his bike to the ground and jogged to where his friends were gathered around the fire.

“I wish you had called me for a ride,” Eddie’s disapproving tone was cancelled out by the concern on his voice when he took one of Stan’s icy hands in his own and rubbed his knuckles to warm him up.

“You won’t care about how cold I am when I tell you the good news,” Stan said, pulling his hand back and holding it over the fire.

“What g-good news?”

“I’m taking Patty to the prom.” Stan’s voice was proud, almost smug, and the yard got very silent for just long enough to hear a pin drop, when Beverly pulled at Stan’s arm and turned him to face his friends in excitement.

“Patty Blum? Since when!?”

“Since next Monday, officially,” he blushed and dropped his stare to the grass.

“Monday?” Mike asked, sounding as confused as Bill felt. Bill’s head was spinning and every sentence was like a bucket of cold water over his heart.

“Technically I haven’t asked her, but Karina is on the speech team with Patty, and on the debate team with me, and she told me today that Patty wants me to ask her, and I really, really want to.”

Bill’s heart dropped out of his chest and into his stomach.

“How do you know it isn’t a trick?” Richie’s question was next, “Like that time Sam Ferris asked Eddie to formal?” He wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and planted a kiss on his temple, as if to apologize for bringing it up. Eddie did look a little peeved.

“It’s not.” Bill said, finally. He knew it couldn’t be a trick, because Patricia Blum is a nice girl, and because he knows all too well how easy it is to envision a date to prom with Stan Uris.

Stan shot him a smile.

There’s another moment of silence, where Bill can feel the prickle of eyes on him and he doesn’t even glance to his side to know that he’s right, that Beverly is giving him a look full of reserved pity. He speaks up again.

“Good,” he says, “You deserve a pretty girl like that.”

And the spell is broken. The Losers all start chiming in with what they think Stan should say, and how he should dress, and what a striking couple the two of them will be, Stan standing tall and lean with the impossibly thin and honey-blonde haired Patty Blum on his arm, dressed to the nines in a sweaty gym, classing up the place just by being there, smiling together. Bill could see it clear as day.

“I’m going to g-go get some more chuh-chocolate, now th-that Stan is here,” he smiled a tight smile and stood up to go into the house. Even if no one else wanted smores, Bill somehow felt a greater need for stuffing his face full of chocolate than he had ever experienced before.

#i love u lil!!! i hope its not awful dbsalhdhlvdhjd #srh.txt #lil #stenbrough #mine #stan uris #bill denbrough #fic rec #fic

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bepoets · 4 years

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Top 5 musicals, top 5 theme park rides?

THANK YOU EM

Top 5 musicals : in addition to actually listing them I’m doing the super fun thing no one asked for and giving info about the musicals and song recommendations for y’all to check out. You are welcome for this nonsense.

1. The Prom - This should be shocking to no one. This beautiful heartfelt musical comedy opened on broadway in November 2018 and closed August 2019. Ripped from broadway too soon and deserved any award from the Tonys ESPECIALLY BEST BOOK ILL DIE ON THAT HILL. The story of teenage lesbians that just want to go to their high school prom, an intolerant small town, and broadway stars who in their attempt to help hilarity ensues. Nothing means more to me than this musical. A song(s) to check out: “Unruly Heart” if you’re feeling emotional about love and accepting yourself and “Tonight Belongs to You” if you’re feeling the need to be confident and dance and “Alyssa Greene” because I want everyone to cry with me.

2. Amélie - Another beautiful heartfelt musical, ripped from broadway too soon. Opened on Broadway March 2017 and closed May 2017. Based on the award winning film of the same name, and starring Hamilton’s Phillipa Soo on Broadway, a kind and beautiful story about finding the little joys in life accepting love and finding magic everywhere. Criticized by theatre critics for being “too vanilla” and “too happy” because apparently we can’t have happy shows. Whatever they’re wrong it’s a work of art. A song(s) to check out: “Times Are Hard For Dreamers” if you want to feel inspired and in awe of the world and “Stay” if you want to hear a song that I feel perfectly depicts what it feels like to want something so badly but to be so terrified of the changes it brings and the uncertainty of the world.

3. Island Song - Time for me to get on my soap box about how much I love this musical oh boy. Island Song is a musical concept album, it’s been performed in concert type setting professionally (think 54 Below) and in various colleges and like regional productions but nothing seriously professional. There is a cast album on YouTube and Spotify and I’m assuming Apple Music that y’all should check out. It’s about these young people from various different lives trying to find their way and their life in the island of New York City. It portrays their relationship with life and love and the way the city entangles itself into your life. Often it portrays the characters relationship with the city as different relationship stereotypes. The city is always present Almost as a love interest for all the characters. It’s fascinating. And the score and the characters stories are all beautiful and inspiring to see and I can just SEE the set design of a broadway production I can SEE OT RIGHT THERE JUST IN FRONT OF ME if someone would just MAKE A PROFESSIONAL PRODUCTION. A song(s) to check out: “After Hours” a song that perfectly encapsulates how I felt walking through New York City for the first time, paths all criss crossing but never quite touching and the magic and the life all there in every corner every where you look no matter where or when and “Too Much” to feel all the feelings all at once and then at the end to feel so thoroughly empowered and alive. Additional recommendations from my friend Court “Island Song Opening” because it does a great job at setting everything up and explains all the characters and their lives and motives, “So Many Windows” because it shows the tender side of the show, and “New York Do You Care” because Jackie Burns and this song really shows off the relationship with the city part and also Jackie Burns.

4. If/Then - IF y’all like Idina Menzel THEN you will love this musical (see what I did there). Idina Menzel starred as Elizabeth/Liz/Beth in this original musical that was on broadway for about a year 2014-2015. It follows the life of 38 year old Elizabeth and shows us how your life can change depending on the simplest choice you make. The idea and concept that the world could change so easily just by what name you chose to go by when you move cities, but also...how much can stay the same. It shows both possibilities of Elizabthe/Liz/Beth’s life all while delivering with an incredible cast, gorgeous score and songs, a concept and message and story that is just phenomenal. Plus it takes place in New York so like ANOTHER WIN !! A song(s) to check out: “A Map of New York” to feel like you are impactful and impacted by everything and to feel like you can create something and “You Learn To Live Without” for arguably the most heartbreaking song to ever be sang ever and the lyrics are just...incredible “you learn to somehow like the dark and even love the doubt” and then “I Hate You” because it goes from funny to happy to sad to a love song to tearing your heart out throughout the entire song and I love watching Liz’s thoughts and feelings spiral and process.

5. Come From Away - Still running into broadway also on the west end and it CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED if you HAVENT checked out come from away you absolutely should. It’s the story of the thousands of people stranded in Gandar, Newfoundland during 9/11 when all the planes were redirected and the airways closed. It’s a story of kindness and family and grief and pain and finding a way to find joy and seizing the moment and the comfort we all are able to provide and humanity at its finest. I also think it does a great job at addressing the mistreatment of Muslim persons post 9/11 and the fact that they touch on it in this production is a damn good thing. They also have only like 12(?) actors and there’s like 12 chairs and 2 tables that’s the set. It’s incredible. You walk away crying every tear you’ve ever cried and feeling such hope at the same time. A song(s) to check out: “Me and The Sky” Captain Beverly Bass sings this song and it’s empowering as HECK and then heartbreaking at the end but it really is just incredible if you wanna belt it out and feel strong and “Stop The World” one of the most beautiful songs in all of theatre wanting to treasure and cherish a moment and seize that moment but stay in it forever knowing that once its gone once you leave you can’t grab it back it’s lost forever in the abyss and you want nothing more than to stop the world in the beauty of where you are just then and “Something’s Missing” if you really want to cry a lot.

Okay that covers musicals oops I got carried away.

Top 5 theme park rides:

1. Hagrid’s Magical Creatures Motorbike Adventure (Universal Orlando - Islands Of Adventure) (this is not bias because I work at this ride it is in fact the best)

2. Flight of Passage (Disney’s Animal Kingdom)

3. Twisted Collassus (Siz Flags Magic Mountain)

4. Radiator Springs Racers (Disney’s California Adventure)

5. Mickey and Minnie’s Runaway Railway (Disney’s Hollywood Studios)

#misadventures of brooklyn

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ilovemyships · 5 years

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unruly hearts week - day one (favorite character)

alyssa greene

prepare for a (spoilery) ramble! cause that’s what i do best!

okay, so, for me alyssa is my favorite character because i see myself at 15 - scared and in the closet - in her. the difference is alyssa has a girlfriend and also really great hair while i had neither. but i think she’s one of the most relatable characters in the whole show.

her character arc is one of the most important in the show - she starts out terrified; sneaking glances at emma from a distance and jumping out of her skin when her mother nearly catches them holding hands in the hallway. she has her back turned to emma at the start of “dance with you”, and then when emma begins the chorus, she takes a deep breath and her whole body starts to relax.

(as an aside, last month i had the absolute privilege of somehow seeing the prom from the front row of the orchestra and izzy’s physical choices actually killed me so this is as much of an izzy mccalla appreciation as it is an alyssa greene one.)

alyssa lives in fear, and in longing, and in a feeling of entrapment - but the one thing that grounds her is emma. more on that come day five. but my point is that in act one, alyssa is at her bravest when she has emma beside her. she plans to come out with emma at prom, even though she’s scared, because when it’s the two of them together she feels so much stronger.

when she gets tricked into the whole fake prom scenario by her mother and her so-called best friends, that rips the ground from under her. she pieces together what must be happening to emma, and then gets told that kaylee and shelby know about her relationship with emma, and that’s why she wasn’t let in on the secret.

the horror she feels in that moment overwhelms her. i think a lot of us have had a moment like that - where you suddenly find out that someone knows about you, without your permission. all the bravery she’d had is gone; and so she goes to the thing that grounds her. she calls emma.

but emma is hurting and alone, too, and she doesn’t believe that alyssa had nothing to do with the utter humiliation she’s being put through right now. she asks alyssa to come and meet her, and alyssa wants to. she wants to be with emma, so that they can comfort each other, but the thought of one more person knowing her biggest secret right now is too much to bear. when faced with the prospect of telling her mother she’s gay, the words just rush out.

“i can’t! it’s bad enough that kaylee and shelby know!”

she doesn’t mean it like that, obviously, but she’s panicking. the music is too loud, the crowd is too stifling, her mother’s stare is too intense. and to top it all off, she’s probably just ruined her relationship with emma.

come act two, and we see a very different side to alyssa. she is finally able to let out some of her frustration at her mother, and the way her life is, through the song “alyssa greene”. the song starts with a very military-style feel which slows and breaks away on the line, “and you wish there was a world where you were simply free to live.”

i would like to point out at this moment that miss izzy mccalla is the master of simultaneously crying and singing and it is very very upsetting to watch. thank you izzy for making me cry, and then for sympathetically laughing at me when i told you that you made me cry simply by crying yourself.

as soon as the music transforms, and alyssa starts singing about how she wishes she could be, we see the very core of her character. she feels like she always caves in, and she is sick of it.

“you’re not yourself, you’re not what she wants, you’re someone in between.”

she comes to a realization here, i think, that she can’t continue on as she has been. because she can be one of two people: she can be the person she wants herself to be, or she can be the person her mother wants her to be. right now, she’s neither - and so something has to change.

but when emma asks her if she’ll go public with her, all alyssa can say is that she wants to. because she does, more than anything, but in her mind she still can’t. and emma breaks up with her, as much as it’s clearly killing her to do so, because everything is too painful right now.

and alyssa cries.

and i cry.

when we as the audience next see alyssa, she’s watching emma’s “unruly heart” video - and has been non-stop, if mrs greene’s comments are any indication. this video inspires her so much, and she can see all the support emma is getting because of it. and maybe she’s starting to believe that she can do this, too.

so, she takes a breath. and she tries to come out to her mother.

it’s interesting to note that in the broadway version, this scene actually isn’t the first time alyssa tries to come out to her mom. during “tonight belongs to you” she tries to tell her mother what’s going to happen, but she gets shut down. because mrs greene definitely knows that her daughter is gay, but she really really really does not want to confront that fact.

here, alyssa tries to come out again.

“mom, we have to talk about what’s really going on here. we can’t keep avoiding this just because it’s uncomfortable. i love you, and the stupid thing is that--”

once again, she is promptly shut down. her mother yells at her to stop, and grabs her by the arms, and possibly for the first time alyssa recoils. mrs greene pushes her too far, and alyssa finally, well and truly, stands up for herself. and although she’s been watching emma’s video non-stop, she does this all on her own, without emma holding her hand.

she tells her mother that she doesn’t want to be a part of her shit anymore, and storms off, and as an audience member i’ve never been prouder. (until her next scene, anyway).

speaking of, when alyssa comes into the gym not long after to find her mother once again spreading hatred and ignorance, she can’t take it anymore. she’s scared, yes, but she’s starting to realize just how brave she can be. so she tells her mother to listen, and she delivers this beautiful little speech about how much better it is to be yourself even though it can be hard.

“i don’t want to hurt you. i don’t want to hurt anyone, i just... wanna be me.”

and this is what alyssa’s character comes down to. she never wants to be somebody that causes pain but, at the same time, now she won’t let anyone stand in the way of her becoming who she is. i feel like maybe, for a while, alyssa very much repressed the idea of being gay. she didn’t want to be herself. but over time, and probably with some help from emma, she found that truly being herself was the thing she actually wanted most in the world.

and with her public declaration of love for emma, she does it.

emma says “holy shit” and so do i, because wow you guys, this was the part that i started sobbing and never looked back.

alyssa is honest with her mother, her life is already hard no matter what she tries to protect her from, and with the promise of a talk later - alyssa watches her mother go. she’s still slightly in shock, but it gives way to the giddiest kind of relief once emma points out that she just came out in front of everyone.

and then we all know what happens next. she and emma get their dance, and they get their kiss in front of everyone - also, their kiss is literally the climactic moment of the entire show which is something i think i’d only dreamed of ever seeing in a musical - and yes i’m still sobbing at this point, why do you ask?

my point in a nutshell is that alyssa grows so much over the course of the show, through a combination of book, score, direction and acting - and it’s incredible to watch. emma may arguably be the main character of the prom, but alyssa is just as much of the heart of the show as her girlfriend, and izzy mccalla definitely doesn’t let you forget it.

so thank you, alyssa greene, for being a character that so many people can see themselves in and finally feel represented. because feeling seen in the media and art you consume is so important. again, i’ll probably have more to say on that specific point later in the week, but i feel like this post is already way too long. can you believe i sat down at my laptop ready to write out some bullet point headcanons?

#unrulyheartsweek #the prom #the prom musical

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sillyxkittyy · 5 years

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Unruly Heart

This is a birthday gift for the sweet and amazing @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus! In honour of your 18th birthday, i wrote you this tyrus one-shot based on the song “Unruly Heart” from the musical “the Prom” (I know you like that musical :D). It’s uhhhhh very long, but I hope you like it! :) ……………………………………………………………

Some hearts can conform

Fit in the norm

Flaunting their love for all to see

I tried to change

Thinking how easy life could be

TJ had never been like anyone else. For the longest time, he had been known as the the mean bully, the tough scary basketball guy by all her peers. For the longest time, he had acted like one- he believed that if you can’t beat them, join them, right? It was so much easier to be the typical bully than to be nice, he had quickly realized. But was being mean really worth it, in the end? He had soon noticed how scared people were of him, how hard it was to approach them even, and part of him hated that. But he had continued for a while, because he didn’t think he knew how to be nice. He had slowly started to change, and he was doing progress, he tried dropping the attitude, and be kinder, more patient with others- maybe even more open.

I just kept on failing

I guess that was a sign

That there wasn't much hope

For this unruly heart of mine

It wasn’t easy at it looked, though, and he kept rebounding. He kept going back to his old habits, hurting the people he loved. He saw himself snapping at them, saying things he didn’t even mean... becoming someone he didn’t recognize. It was as if being mean had kind of built a shell around him to protect him, and that being nice had cracked that shell, exposing him, exposing his feelings for everyone to see. He didn’t want to act like this, but he felt like the way he wanted to be was harder to achieve than initially thought. He had almost given up; after all, he had trouble making friends anyways, so why would he try? Was there anyone worth the change? Would anyone care if he changed for the best?

Then you came along

And right or wrong

Feelings began to overflow

We had to hide

Thinking that no one else could know.

Then, he met Cyrus, and his whole life turned upside down. He used to only be Buffy’ quirky and weird friend, but TJ found himself quickly growing fond of him. He remembered how Cyrus started approaching him, and not even in a mean way, and how it took him by surprise. The other boy had this way with him that TJ couldn’t explain- a soft approach that always drew him to him. He was nice to him, he never judged him, he was understanding, he helped him- even when he was giving Buffy troubles. He almost felt safe around him, he felt like he could trust Cyrus with anything. Opening up to him was a slow process, but when he had, it suddenly felt natural. He soon realized that they could maybe become friends, and it had filled him with such joy that Cyrus wanted to be friends with him. Even after a few rough patches, they were able to become close, which TJ really appreciated. However that friendship turned into attachement on TJ’s side... and it frightened him. He wasn’t used to being attached to people, to crave so much for someone love and attention like that. And when he caught herself grinning from ear to ear while reading their texts messages, or feeling butterflies whenever they held hands... he realized that his feelings were stronger than he initially thought. Suddenly, he was scared and confused- about his feelings, about his own identity, about everything. Falling in love had always scared the hell out of him, he didn’t know how to handle it, he didn’t know what to do with it. God, it filled his mind with so many thoughts, thoughts that he usually rather avoid. He started questioning himself, and his sexuality. What was he now? He had to face his feelings, and he hated doing that. He entered in a stage of pure and utter denial. But the more time passed, the harder it got to deny it... he was afraid of judgment, afraid of what people would think- his parents especially. Most of all, he was afraid that Cyrus would never like him back, because it was him. He continued to hang out with Cyrus, but he was distant. Distracted. And the other boy obviously noticed, but he hadn’t commented about it, at first. It was one of the things he liked the most about him, he was always considerate and never pushed the subject if someone didn’t want to. Cyrus did also question him vaguely a bit, asking him if he was okay a few times, but TJ always avoided the subject. He had obviously tried to hide his feelings, to make them go away, to forget... but he couldn’t. It was harder than he expected it to be. At some point, it almost got unbearable, and he wanted to confess to him. He got to a point where he barely cared if Cyrus didn’t like him back, he had to tell him, to get this off his chest. He had practiced in front of the mirror, fumbling with his fingers as he mumbled to himself in front of the bathroom sink. Each time he had tried to tell Cyrus though, his words blocked, and there was always a lump in his throat. His stomach was always all over the place, so he ended up chickening out. He even asked Amber for help, his sister who was successfully going out with Andi. Her advice did help, but he couldn’t help but feel this insecurity each time he tried... then, one day, Amber got confronted by his parents about her relationship with Andi. She had managed to keep it a secret for weeks, but the truth ended up getting out, and the fight that had ensured had shaken the house. TJ was even more afraid, after that, and the looks his parents then give his sister had filled him with such terror. If he started dating Cyrus, would they judge him? Would they look at him like that? How would they react if they learned that he liked guys- not even just that, that he was gay? He didn’t know for sure if they would judge him, but just the possibility made him anxious. After that, it got even harder for him to confess, until he decided to not do it at all. His feelings only grew, but he tried to hide it, to conceal them. It burned him on the outside, but he couldn’t do otherwise. He suddenly became even more distant, almost ignoring Cyrus. He didn’t want him out of his life, but being around him made him feel so fuzzy on the inside, and it filled him with such pain. Staying away made it less unbearable, because it was easier to ignore his feelings that way. However, things changed when Cyrus confronted him about it. It wasn’t done angrily- he just asked him in utter confusion if he had done nothing wrong. TJ assured him that he didn’t, but he wasn’t able to tell him exactly why he was distant.

And not having you near me

Was where I drew the line

So I had to conceal

This poor unruly heart of mine

They didn’t fight per say, but he mentally called it one, because the result was the same: they didn’t talk and he felt absolutely empty. They started drifting apart, and even if it was bearable at first, it suddenly became extremely painful for TJ. Not talking to him at all made him realize how often they hung out- and how much he meant to him. Several times, he had tried texting him again to apologize, but he had chickened out in fear. What if he wanted nothing to do with him anymore? What if it was all over? Cyrus probably thought TJ wanted nothing to do with him, which was so far from the truth. These thoughts haunted him for days. Whenever he saw him in the distance in the halls, or the back of his head in class, or just his face when he played basketball... his feelings came rushing back like a slap on the face. He realized that getting over that boy was going to be an almost impossible task, no matter how hard he tried. His presence filled him with such joy, and his absence made him feel like there was a piece of him missing. He felt like he had never deserved Cyrus’ friendship... the small boy was way too good for him. TJ always ruined everything, either way, it was bound to happen one day. He tried to hide his desperation, his sadness, his anger at himself, but god, it became hard, he felt like it was going to spill any second, that everyone would know how he felt inside... but he couldn’t let them know. He didn’t need everyone on his back.

And though I don't know how or when

But somehow I learned to see

No matter what the world might say

This heart is the best part of me.

TJ was walking in the streets one day, his hands in his pockets, his hood on his head, and his head down. He was heading home, but his mind was wandering around. He hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t walking on the right direction until he turned the corner and was confused by his surroundings. He looked around, trying to place where he was, and it didn’t take long to recognize the big houses and the neighbourhood; he felt his heart leap in his chest. Unconsciously, he had been walking towards Cyrus’ house instead of his own. He had gone to his house so many times in the last couple weeks, months even, that it was almost a reflex. He mumbled to himself, kicking a rock and shaking his head. Was he at a point where he’d go to his friend’s house first? ‘Friend’- somehow, those words didn’t seem right to describe Cyrus. He was about to turn away when he spotted a figure in the distance. Squinting to try and see it better, he immediately recognized Cyrus. Of course, it had to be him. Of all the people in this busy neighbourhood, it had to be him. Cyrus hadn’t seen him yet, and TJ was almost able to leave without being seen, but as he started to walk away, he heard his name being called.

“TJ?” Hearing his voice, in such a soft tone too, was enough to make his heart flutter. He froze, and turned his head a bit, seeing Cyrus looking at him. He turned around completely and they both just stood there, staring. He wanted to say something, but his words were blocked.

“Hey” that’s all he was able to mutter as he gulped a bit. Cyrus took a few steps forward.

“Hey” he smiled weakly. “Long time no see, huh?” His voice was calm and quiet, yet TJ felt like there was more that met the eye. He simply continued staring.

“Yeah...” his heart was beating so fast, and he was glad that his hands were in this pockets, as they were so sweaty. “Listen, Cyrus, about that...” he trailed off a bit, swallowing hard. “I-I wanted to apologize... for uh- for...” he started but Cyrus put a hand up, shaking his head.

“Hey, it’s okay... I get it.“ he gave him a small smile. TJ thought that seemed off and he titled his head in confusion.

“You... you do?” He didn’t think Cyrus knew why he did what he did. Did he actually know? Or did he just assume? He suddenly dreaded to find out the answer. The other boy nodded.

“I mean yeah... I’m...” he pauses, looking at TJ. “I knew it would... happen one day, you know? Like... I get that I’m annoying, or whatever. I’ve been told that several times in the past, I get it” he shook his head. “You don’t have to add more, I know” hearing Cyrus say those words had made his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Had he been feeling this way this whole time? Now he felt even worse than he did. He shook his head vigorously.

“Cyrus, that’s not true, stop”

“No, it is, don’t wor-“

“It isn’t!” TJ exclaimed, staring at him intensely, yet softly. “Cyrus, you’re perfect just the way you are, okay?” There was a silence after he said that, a moment when the look in Cyrus’ eyes soften, and he looked at TJ, almost confused.

“You... you really think so? You don’t think I’m like... weird, or quirky, or annoying?” He knew it was a common thing for Cyrus to think he wasn’t good enough, or to put himself down, and it always hurt TJ every time. He took a step forward.

“You are weird, Cyrus, but... you know what I like about you? You don’t care about that. You’re proud of who you are- you embrace your weirdness- and that’s admirable.” if there was one thing that Cyrus almost never seemed insecure about, it was his quirkiness. What other people might find dorky about him, TJ found it endearing. He loved seeing him ramble about dinosaurs, or put on a play with his baby taters. The look of pure happiness in his eyes, that little sparkle, made him absolutely weak. “Even I can’t do that” he admitted silently. Cyrus stared at him, he almost looked incredulous. He didn’t say anything for a while, he just stared, seeming dumbfounded. The two boys just looked at each other, both their hearts pounding in their chest. A slight breeze could be felt, and Cyrus brought his hoodie closer to him. It was only then that TJ noticed that it was his hoodie that he was wearing. Cyrus Goodman was hearing his hoodie. He could feel a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Was he wearing it because he forgot it wasn’t his? Was it simply because it was comfy? Or was it because it reminded him of him? So many questions filled his mind, but he didn’t have time to ponder on it more, because Cyrus spoke again.

“You... you really think that?” His voice lowered.

“I do, Cyrus, I really do” he gave him a look that told him that he really meant it. Cyrus bit his lip.

“Oh... I... I thought you hated me or something” those words echoed in his head over and over again. ‘I thought you hated me’ god, how could he even hate Cyrus, that was impossible for him. The fact that he thought so stung. He felt a rush of emotions through him.

“Cyrus, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you, I...”

So fear's all in the past

Fading so fast

I won't stay hidden any more

I'm who I am

And I think that's worth fighting for

TJ paused, thinking of what he was about to say next. Was it worth keeping a secret anymore? He felt like it was choking him, like the burden was unbearable. He had almost lost Cyrus while trying to conceal it, the boy deserved to know the truth. He shouldn’t be ashamed of his feelings, of who he was. Would he stop himself from living, from being happy, because of others? It had never stopped him before, why should it, now? To hell all the judgement, all the fear, he had to be proud. Cyrus was amazing, heck, the best thing that ever happened to him, and he wouldn’t lose him- not again. If people weren’t happy with him, his decisions, his life, then it was their problem. Spending so many years as a bully taught TJ that people would judge no matter what, either way.

And nobody out there

Ever gets to define

The life I'm meant to lead

With this unruly heart of mine.

He finally stepped closer to Cyrus and took his hands, looking him directly in the eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t care.

“Listen, I don’t hate you, okay? God, I can’t hate you because... I’m in love with you, alright? I...” he’s almost out of breath but he continued before he chickens out again. “Dammit, you mean so much to me, like so so much, and I know I suck at showing it, but... it’s true. And yeah, I did maybe ignore you for a while, but it’s not because I hate you... I was just confused, scared. I didn’t know how to tell you...” he gulped.

And though I don't know how or when

But somehow I learned to see

No matter what the world might say

This heart is the best part of me

“But... it doesn’t matter anymore. I wanted you to know- you need to know. And even though you might not like me back. I’d rather have you as a friend that not at all. I can’t stand it when we don’t talk, okay, and I just... please forgive me” TJ finally stops talking, almost out of breath, and he looks down. At least he was able to get it out before he changed his mind. At least now Cyrus would know that he did not hate him at all, he knew how he truly felt now. He was still holding the other boy’s hand, though, and it made him smile the weakest smile. How he wished he could hold them properly, as a boyfriend, but he would maybe never get this chance. It didn’t matter though; if he could still spend his Friday nights with him watching documentaries while sitting so close to each other on the couch, or if he could still watch him laugh, and his eyes crinkling when he did, then he was content either way.

So fear's all in the past

Fading so fast

I won't stay hidden any more

I'm who I am

And I think that's worth fighting for

After what almost seemed forever, Cyrus finally spoke up. “TJ...” he paused, nuzzling his head in his hoodie. He was looking at him straight in the eyes. “... you... you mean that?” He seemed to know deep down, but he also seemed to want a confirmation. Against every voice in his head screaming at him not to do it, he used his hand to lift Cyrus’ chin, giving him a soft smile.

“Of course I mean it. Why would I joke about that?” A small chuckle came out of Cyrus’ mouth.

“Well, when you put it like that...” he didn’t seem stressed or uncertain anymore, he was smiling at him. “You want to know something?”

“What?”

“I like you too” those words made TJ’s heart skip a beat. ‘I like you too’ how he thought he’d never hear those words, ever. The smile on his face only widened. He wanted to say something, meaningful perhaps, maybe even cheesy, but instead, he only raised his eyebrow playfully.

“Hmmmm, is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” He teased, making Cyrus flush.

“Maybe” his answer only made TJ laugh. In that moment, he felt a rush of happiness he didn’t think he’d ever feel.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” He said softly, to which Cyrus simply replied with a shrug. It made TJ smile; maybe things weren’t meant to be all bad. Maybe he could do something right and be happy. Feeling a rush of happiness inside of him, TJ finally leaned in and kissed him.

And nobody out there

Ever gets to define

The life I'm meant to lead

With this unruly heart of mine

Mine

#andi mack #shut up kat #one-shot #gifts #tyrus #happy birthday theo i really hope you like it sksksjsyst #ilyyyyyyy i hope u know that! <33

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spideyxchelle · 6 years

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Mary Jane Watson hated her codename. She was a SHIELD agent, for Christ’s sake, and teasing her about her nickname—MJ—was tacky and tired. But Nick, in his way, was trying to help her adjust to her first undercover mission and a little symmetry did make the transition from the SHIELD base to field work simpler.

So, if he wanted her to go by that ridiculous name, she would comply. After all, orders were orders. And Mary Jane was a compliant agent.

She had been that way since she had begun her training as a SHIELD agent at ten when the world went to shit with aliens and superheroes and Gods from other worlds. Her world was irrevocably changed when the New York Times office tower collapsed and both of her parents had died in one fowl swoop. It changed again when Nick Fury scouted her from her dingy, tattered foster home on Staten Island and took her out of the system to place her in another.

When she arrived at the SHIELD base with a group of fifteen other kids all around her age, all knobby knees and no parents, it had been the most terrifying moment of her life. The next four years taught her that day one was a walk in the park compared to what lay ahead. When the four years ran out, she was at the top of her class, and a finely tuned weapon for SHIELD to harness and use at their discretion.

She had expected to be dropped into enemy territory to bring down unjust regimes. She had thought perhaps they would station her in the belly of some company with ties to HYDRA.

Instead, she got Midtown School of Science and Technology.

And babysitter duty for one unruly, misguided and inconveniently beautiful spider-menace. Peter Parker.

Every day he ate a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast. It came in foil with a post-it note tacked on the front. The notes their freshman year ranged from soft reminders about his afterschool activities to lovely, kind words from his Aunt May. When his Uncle Ben died, the notes turned into reminders to breathe. To center himself and soldier through the day. He struggled the first few months, wracked with guilt and Michelle pretended she did not know why. But Mary Jane had been trailing him and saw the whole gruesome murder.

The agent saw Ben Parker die. The girl watched as Peter Parker failed to keep his uncle alive.

At school, Mary Jane catalogued the post-its in her ratty notebook from her perched point at the end of his lunch table. It didn’t seem important, but all intel was better than no intel. Besides, it almost felt like the notes were for her sometimes. The little reminders to have a good day, to smile, to remember that life was beautiful helped when being undercover at seventeen threatened to consume her completely.

Her job was to be invisible. Her Michelle persona was perfectly crafted to watch him up close and personal. No one minded the weird girl with the purple streak in her hair and the cutting frown. And if Michelle was like Mary Jane in many ways— from their passions in literature and justice to their sarcastic wit—well, Mary Jane told her superiors it was merely a coincidence.

She was on the outskirts for nearly a year. Until she was deep undercover. Friend of the Spider-man.

Mary Jane became his friend, as part of her cover, after the Liz Allen-Toomes debacle. Tony Stark had been practically distraught when he found out that his protegee had followed a murderous villain sixty-thousand feet in the air on the back of an invisible airplane. SHIELD looked for someone to place the blame. It feel very easily at her feet as the agent assigned to his safety.

Fury had stormed back and forth at their debrief in one of the abandoned conference rooms upstate, then, and ranted, “Your job is to keep that kid safe!”

Mary Jane had bit her tongue and countered, “I couldn’t very well chase after him in a prom dress. It would’ve blown my cover.”

Fury fumed, “Then, you need to change. You need to be on him 24/7. Stark will pull out of the Accords if that kid isn’t kept safe. That’s the deal.”

She had pinched the bridge of her nose and taken a deep breath, “It’s already out-of-character for Michelle to be at all of those parties, to be a part of all of those afterschool teams. What do you suggest I do?” “Innovate,” had been his reply.

And so, she innovated. Michelle turned from purposeful loner to tentative friend in six months. She infiltrated the Leeds-Parker two-some without much hesitancy on the boys’ end. It had almost been like they were hoping for more friends, as if being outsiders was exhausting. Mary Jane tried not to empathize.

Friendship was easy to navigate. The growing heated looks between Michelle and Peter were not. She ignored the looks he gave her over the tops of chemistry books in class or the soft smile that engulfed his entire face when she laughed. She pretended it was her cover, the way she looked back, but she was not a good enough agent to gaze at him the way she often caught herself doing. There was an inexplicable pull that hooked into her navel and tugged them closer and closer.

Day by day.

Hour by hour.

It was only a matter of time when the heat exploded into a full-blown fire.

On her seventeenth birthday, Peter took Michelle out of the city, out of the borrows, and into nature. They sat in silence the entire train ride to his surprise and the silence was a heavy, relentless beast. It only quieted when Peter exhaled out of his nose and inched their fingertips closer, barely touching.

Michelle sucked in a breath and Mary Jane felt her heart run wild. It pattered furiously and then ceased to beat at all when he bravely linked their pinkies.

She glanced at his profile, but he did not look at her. His eyes were settled pointedly on the horizon out the window. The world whipped by as the train chugged forward.

The final whistle, the last call, jerked the pair of them out of their daydreams and Michelle cautiously unwound their fingers. The two padded along in silence as they boarded off the train. And if their hands brushed with each step off the platform, well, Mary Jane told herself it was all for her cover.

They took a taxi to the outskirts of a field as the sun began to set. The sky was miraculous shades of pink and purple and scattered sunlight. She gnawed on her lip as she watched Peter wade out into the unruly flowers and grass. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her so openly, so carelessly that she suddenly ached for the youth that had been stripped of her when she was shuttled upstate to become a spy.

“Come on,” he beckoned.

She foolishly followed him. Mary Jane climbed through the green and watched as Peter settled into the flowers on his back. She rolled her eyes, ever in character, and tsked, “We took a two hour train ride to lay in the grass.”

He propped himself up on his elbows and a smile crinkled the corner of his eyes, “No. We took a two hour train ride to see the stars. Light pollution is too intense in the city.”

With a huff, Michelle dropped her bag to the ground and lay beside the boy with grass in his hair. She turned her head to look at him when she settled. He was so beautiful up close. The sunset danced all kinds of rosy hues across his barely-there freckles. Looking at him this way, feeling the overwhelming string of connection pulse between them, was not her mission. He muddled her purpose. Damn him, the beautiful, noble boy with one floofy eyebrow. “Well,” she swallowed, “You got me to lay on some grass. Congrats.”

He beamed and wiggled closer to her, almost touching her flattened hand, “And all I had to do was ask. You getting soft on me, Jones?”

Michelle playfully shoved her hand in his face, “How dare you.” He caught her fingertips and the air was vacuumed out of the vast field. “Peter—”

“Shh,” he hushed her gently.

She felt her eyes flutter shut out of her own control and she cursed this day, this moment, these feelings, and this boy. “Peter,” she whispered, again.

His breath was tickling her cheeks. Without even looking, she knew that he was so close all she had to do was press her head an inch or two forward and they would be kissing. “Look,” he instructed.

Her eyelids danced open and the sunset was nothing but a vague glow of pink in the distance. The real miracle was the wealth of stars that littered the sky above her head. They were not overtly bright yet. The sunset and the stars were both fighting for command of the heavens. But she could see them. Twinkling above the heads of two teenagers with far too much responsibility thrust upon them.

Michelle gasped, “Oh wow.”

She felt him watching her. She could nearly imagine his stupid smile, “I know, right? My, uh, Dad used to take me here to watch the stars.”

Mary Jane could not help the flood of information that skipped across the stage of her mind. She knew all about Richard Parker. The scientist that died in a plane crash when the star boy was only four years old. It was not something Peter had ever told Michelle, but it was a case study that Mary Jane knew all too well.

She suddenly felt guilty for owning private parts of his life, especially when those parts had not been gifted but taken.

Mary Jane did not dare look at him.

Peter hardly minded. He plowed on, enraptured by the grass, the sky, and by her. “I don’t remember much. I was four when he died. But I remember these nights, this sky. Who could ever forget a sky like this one?”

Mary Jane made herself ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

“I want to share it with you.” His answer was so simple, so heartbreakingly earnest, Mary Jane shifted her head to look at him. And found him already watching her.

“Peter, there is so much I want to tell you,” her voice broke on the start of her confession.

He shook his head and brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. His eyes flickered between her eyes and her mouth. Eyes and mouth. And Mary Jane shivered. “We’ve got time,” he replied.

And then, he was kissing her.

And she was kissing him back.

“I’m compromised,” Mary Jane announced, hanging in the doorway of Fury’s office.

The man raised his one good eyebrow, “Watson, don’t you have some kind of MOCA fieldtrip today?”

“I’m out,” the seventeen year old lifted her chin, all steel. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Her superior labored out of his seat and turned the corner of his desk to sit on the edge, “What do you mean you’re out?”

She firmly repeated, “I’m out. I’m done. I quit.”

Fury laughed, “You can’t just quit, Watson. It doesn’t work like that.”

Mary Jane was not afraid anymore. There had been a boy and moonlight and a kiss that made her brave. There was so much he didn’t know, so much she couldn’t keep from him anymore and she would not. Her resolve was unshakeable. It had been so many years since she had been looked at by someone that cared about her. All of that had crumbled when her parents had died. But Peter had lit that flame of affection back in her chest and she would not forsake him for her job. Her stupid, ridiculous prison.

He deserved better than that and so did she.

If Mary Jane was an agent, maybe she had to die to let Michelle crawl toward the light.

Fury paused and was visibly flooded with cold understanding, “You got too close to your mark.”

“Nick—”

“Damn it, Watson! What is our one rule?”

“I don’t care. I can’t do this anymore.”

Nick Fury cut straight to the heart of her failings as an agent, “You got soft for a pair of pretty eyes.”

The accusation was so visceral, she splintered, “I was a kid, Nick. You took me away from my life and made me a weapon.” Fury snapped, “I made you strong!”

Mary Jane roared, “You stole my childhood!”

The silence that enveloped the room was keen and vicious. It was the kind of silence that colored the darkest hours of night when everything dangerous came out to play. Fury squinted, “Get out.”

“Gladly,” she retorted.

The lengthy train ride back to Queens was liberating. Mary Jane knew she had to explain everything to Peter, but, for the first time in a long time, she hoped. There was a future for her beyond the never-ending half-life of espionage. There was a boy with uneven eyebrows and a lopsided grin that lit up whenever she walked in the room that was worth gambling on. Because he was loyal and wonderful and kind. And when he kissed her she felt her stomach swoop and make room for more emotion than she had ever dreamed. For that, for him, she would do whatever she had to do to make up for the lies and be worthy of him.

Her phone buzzed.

There was only one google alert that she had on her phone—Spider-man.

Mary Jane watched the grainy video from downtown in horror. One minute Spider-Man was clinging to a light post and the next he was being swept up in an alien beam and disappearing from sight. Anxiety filled her, hot and overwhelming, and she began to frantically search for answers as to where he went and if he was safe. The news reported that Iron-Man flew up to help Spider-Man and neither had returned.

She fumbled off the train in a daze and tried to gain her bearings.

Her phone rang, again. “Ned?” she whispered.

“MJ,” his voice cracked. “MJ, I let him go. I let him go.”

The two friends spent the next two days at the Parker’s apartment in a constant state of worry. There were no answers and all of the theories were less than comforting. Twelve hours into their vigil a man on the news suggested that both Tony Stark and the Spider-Man were dead. Mary Jane broke the television in a flurry of violent, uncontrollable anger.

May Parker had swept her up in a cuddle, after, and rocked her back and forth. She imagined that the warm comfort might have been what a mother’s touch felt like. It had been so long that Mary Jane had forgotten.

When she woke up on the third day, she was alone. Ned and May were nowhere to be found. She padded into the kitchen, expecting to find May slaving over some lost-cause of a breakfast and Ned to be silently and politely making a back-up breakfast when May’s cooking went downhill.

She glanced at the clock and saw it was well past nine. “May?” Mary Jane called out, “Ned?”

Nothing. The world was still. The silence was universal. And she knew she was alone.

She called out more frantically, “May?? NED?”

Mary Jane fumbled for the phone in her pocket and began to search the news. There had been some kind of fight in Wakanda half-a-world away in the early hours of the morning New York time. And then, there had been something Twitter was calling the dusting. There were no answers. No rhyme or reason to these killings. Just death. A worldwide genocide.

She tried to call Nick with no answer. Then, Maria Hill. And every agent she could think of, but every call was met with a sickening silence.

Mary Jane laid in the darkness, she allowed it to consume her, for three days after the dusting. No one came looking for her. No one cared. All of the people in the world that she knew and cherished were gone. Dead or missing or dusted.

Just before midnight on that third day, her phone buzzed. Mary Jane dispassionately lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

A spotty, gritty voice called through the receiver, “Mary Jane?” The agent sat up like a shot. “I can’t get ahold of Nick. Or anyone.” There was a significant beat, “I know about the dusting. And I need your help.”

Something akin to hope bloomed in Mary Jane’s chest, “Captain Marvel?”

“Carol will do just fine,” the older woman corrected. “Now, are you in?”

Mary Jane thought of Nick and Maria. She thought of Ned. Of May. And she thought of Peter. Of his laugh and smile and dopey grin.

“I’m in.”

#ficlet #shield agent mj au #spideychelle

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pwpoetry · 3 years

Text

Q&A with Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris

M: "Loss is the tune of our age, hard to miss and hard to bear," you write early in the book. I was so moved by this passage, particular as its audience--in part, though not in whole--is children coming up in this age of new extinction. How does this play on your mind as you write?

R: EO Wilson coined the idea of the 'Eremocene', the 'age of loneliness' which we are creating and entering, in which we have so depleted the world of its wondrous more-than-human diversity that we're left solitary, unsurrounded by the company of other creatures... What a chilling idea that is. Robin Wall Kimmerer memorably calls it 'species-loneliness'. The Lost Spells, though--like its big sister The Lost Words--approaches this possibility not from a perspective of fear and threat, but rather by celebrating the glorious convivium of nearby nature, the calls, cries, voices and languages of the trees, plants, animals and birds with which we share our daily lives, and which lift our hearts and shape our dreams, hour by hour, week after week, whether or not we notice them doing so. More prosaically, my children--now 17, 14 and 7--have also been among the first readers of the spells, and they've been rigorous testers of how the language falls upon the ear of the young. My 7 year old in particular--whose spirit animal is surely a wolverine and whose name, appropriately, is Will--has been ruthless in his indication of interest or boredom with regard to the spells. My most merciless editor...

M: There is so much I love--and fear--in this response. (And: I fully believe in the power of child editors!) I was equally moved by the fox's assertion "Red is my fur and red is my art, / And red is the blood of your animal heart" in answer to the question "Why do you need me?" What was the guiding principle or arc as you worked and ordered the book, and did you know right away you wanted to start with the fox's plea?

R: The fox strolled into my mind in Scotland in the late-winter of 2019. I was climbing in the mountains of the far north-west, and on a sunlit rest day we went to a deep-cut river gorge near Glen Cannich. I sat for an hour or so on a boulder by the river, and--in a notebook already illustrated with foxes by Jackie --our 'bold as brass' fox appeared in words. The spell speaks at once to Jackie's art ('the tip of a brush'), and to the boundary-crossing, category-collapsing presence of the fox in our landscapes and cultures ('garbage-raider, space-invader'). At the end of the spell, the fox looks piercingly out of the page at the reader, and turns language back on the reader too: 'red is the blood of your animal heart'. We are creatures too, and our forgetting of this is at the root of much of our calamitous hubris.

M: Jackie, how did you decide beforehand which words from the natural world you would bring to life? Does it usually begin with the word or poem, or do you sometimes feel inclined to paint something in particular, and go from there?

J: Sometimes there’s a desire to paint a creature. Some, for The Lost Spells, came before there was an idea for a book. I had hoped to work on an exhibition with Robert, with him writing over my paintings. I still want to do this. But also, there was a Barn Owl, for Suffolk Wildlife Trust, who gave copies of the book to all schools in Suffolk. I asked Robert for a Snow Hare. Birch began because we both love birches and Rob knew i loved painting them, but took months to settle into its lullaby form. Gorse I think came from Robert, and Thrift, but both are found richly around where I live. And Red Fox, the spark that lit the tinder for the book, came as a result of The Lost Words Prom (Prom 49, BBC). It was commissioned as a very obvious creature that links the wilder landscape to town, village, and city.

M: Many of these poems are acrostics (by stanza rather than line) and seem to quite literally embody and enact the compulsions of the living creature described (the swift poem/images behave like swifts!). How did you come to poetry, and which, if I may ask, is your personal favorite creature or plant in the book?

R: Thank you! Well, as anyone who reads The Lost Spells or The Lost Words will detect, I have drunk deep of the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins. Hopkins, drawing on Duns Scotus, forged a philosophy of 'haeccitas' or 'thisness' which was his version of what you finely call 'compulsions'. So there is something of that in each spell--a wish to allow the spell's subject to perform itself in language, to be conjured somehow to presence in ear-sight or eye-shot by the speaking aloud of the spell. My favourite creature in the book is, I think, the curlew; that's who I'd be for a day or a year, I guess. Bird of shore and moor, sea-crosser, world-girdler, and a high, bubbling cry that sends an eerie shiver down the spine. But my favourite spell? I think that would probably be Jackdaw, and here we are back to theconvivium again: these sociable, chattery, noisy, unruly tremendous corvids have kept me company in many landscapes and times here in the UK and beyond. I love them for their good cheer.

#Q&A #interview #writers #thelostspells #robert macfarlane #jackie morris

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eirabach · 7 years

Text

Wednesday [1/2]

Sorry I’ve been MIA. Life.

Back to pornstravaganza!

Captain Charming 1950s AU for the Queen of CC @hencethebravery on the occasion of her birth! Happy Birthday my darling Alana, I kept it pure for you!

(Part two is going to be… less pure ;) )

1.6k. Rated hard T / mild M for insinuation.

Wednesday, 1959

Nobody goes to Granny's on a Wednesday.

It's drive in night down at the bluff, and the young denizens of Storybrooke can almost all be found there, parked up in their daddy’s cars pretending to watch a movie while much more closely watching each other. David Nolan should be there too. As the star of the High School football team and with looks to rival any of the stars on screen he's never lacked for invites from fresh-faced girls in poodle skirts or, for that matter, their mothers.

But he has a standing appointment.

Nobody goes to Granny's on a Wednesday. Nobody except him.

Him, and his secret.

The diner seems darker than usual, Granny slouching over the counter studying the Sears catalogue and the only sound is the faint hum of the generator between the turning of her pages. At the other end of the counter sits Killian Jones, his feet crossed on the Formica as he leans back against the far wall.

“Didn't think you were coming.”

“I wasn't.”

He sees the flash of Killian's teeth as he grins before swinging his legs down and standing, his hand automatically rising push an unruly lock of dark hair out of his face. It makes David's fingers itch, so he balls his hand into a fist instead.

“You hear that Granny?” he calls. “Nolan wasn’t planning on gracing us with his presence!”

Granny looks up long enough to huff, “Either of you going to grace me with your cash?”

Killian's shoulders droop slightly, and David lifts his eyebrows in question. He knows, the whole town knows, how Mr Jones took off in the dead of night and left his two boys with nothing. Liam’s in the navy now, shipped out to somewhere humid and far enough away that the checks don't always come in time.

Sometimes they don't come at all.

“A chocolate shake,” he says, “and a soda water. Mind if we have a booth?”

She laughs, a tobacco tainted cackle. “And disturb all my other customers? As long as you're paying boys you can have whatever you want.”

Granny sets to work making their drinks, her head bobbing gently as she moves along the counter but never turning towards them as David heads to the corner booth, the one with no window and the light bulb that's on the fritz.

(It isn’t like she doesn’t know, anyway, what carries on in the dark corners of her Wednesday nights. But they say her granddaughter went out west with some girl or other, and Granny doesn’t ask, and Granny doesn’t tell.)

It's the booth most popular with courting couples, the one where, just a week or so ago, David had found himself getting a little hot and heavy over a grilled cheese with a pretty little creature called Mary Margaret Blanchard. Killian hasn't been here then, of course, but news travels all the same and he gives David a wry look as he slides into the seat opposite.

David can't help but flush slightly. “Don't look at me like that, Jones. You've done your share of petting.”

Killian's lip twitches and he sits back against the leatherette seat, his jacket squeaking as he folds his arms.

“Not nearly enough,” he says and David feels his cheeks grow hot as Killian's eyes drop to the open v of his letterman jacket. The shirt beneath is old and worn thin, and Killian's eyes linger far longer than is proper. Not that any time is proper. Not that David can bring himself to care when Killian stretches, resting his arms against the back of the seat and allowing David in turn to see the dark shadow of hair beneath his own oil stained shirt.

It's a game they play, the two of them, alone in the flickering shadows of Wednesday nights. Who can make the other crack., who's the best at playing pretend with their blood high and lust in the air.

“I'm happy to lose,” Killian had said once, that first time they’d played crammed into the back of David’s truck, his hand on David’s thigh, his breath at his ear. “Make me lose, Nolan.”

That's why they meet here now; it’s harder to lose with the tabletop digging into their bellies and Leroy singing in the distance, shadows cast under Killian’s eyes and his mouth red in the blueish lights.

Harder, but not impossible.

Granny drops their drinks on the table without a word, and returns to her catalogue. There are two straws in the milkshake, innocent red and white tubes of paper that David stares at unblinkingly before risking a glance over his shoulder. Granny has turned her back to them, and he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss her or kill her for it.

“Here.”

He pushes the milkshake towards Killian who is also eyeing the straws with interest. “You look hungry.”

Killian scoffs, and shifts himself so that he can lean over the milkshake as it sits between them. “I'm not a charity case.”

“Never said you were.”

Killian nods down at the milkshake. “Share?”

Granny turns another page, and the air grows somehow thicker, the buzz of the generator competing with the rush of blood through his veins as, just for a moment, David lets himself wonder.

Would their noses brush as he took his first sip? Would Killian's stubble be sharp or soft against his own smooth cheek? Would it be like hiding in this booth with a girl? Would Killian let him pull him onto his lap? Run his hands over his back and steal a kiss or ten? Or would he be bolder, braver, would he be the one to slip his tongue into David’s mouth? Would his prom night promises sound so much sweeter for their sin? For how much they shouldn’t, for how much they do?

He dares to look over his shoulder again. Granny's gone entirely now, and he can hear her somewhere in the back, her clattering a sure sign that she'll be gone some minutes at least, and if no one sees does it matter? If no one sees does it count?

(Had it counted that first time when no one had seen them but the stars overhead, his whole world turned upside down in a haze of cigarette smoke and calloused hands?)

Killian wraps his pink lips around the straw and sucks, his eyes fixed on David as he swallows.

It feels like a challenge.

He feels like a coward.

“No thank you.”

Killian releases the straw, a single drop of milkshake clinging to the fullness of his bottom lip, just sitting there, damp and cool and inviting and making David’s blood boil, his fingers curling against his jeans as he forces himself to look away. Killian just watches him still with those pale unblinking eyes, giving only the slightest quirk of an eyebrow as he pushes the drink another inch closer.

“Don't you want to try?”

“Fuck off,” David says, but his voice cracks on the words, his heart fluttering traitorously as the eyebrow shifts higher, and it won't do. It won't do at all.

He's a congressman’s son, his father tight at McCarthy’s side as he routs men like Killian out, and David can't, daren't, won't be one of them.

No, he needs a congressman’s wife, pretty and agreeable and silent on his arm, not this lavender lad with the haunted eyes and the leather jacket who makes his heart skip beats and his cock betray him.

He closes his eyes briefly; tries to replace him with Mary Margaret, tries to imagine the turn up of her nose, the delicate bones in her wrists, but it's Killian who leans in closer, Killian's arms that flex beneath the leather, Killian's breath that falls, hot and chocolate sweet, in the inches between them.

“Why’s that then?” he says, low enough to be a threat if Granny were to hear and query it. “Cause I'm temperamental?”

It's too close to an admittance, the truth of what he is - what they are - hanging between them and David feels like he's hanging on a precipice where any fall stings with failure and tastes like regret, where what he says next counts for more than any stolen kiss or locker room stare.

“We all know about your temperament,” David shoots back, and Killian smiles, teeth framed by stubble as the tip of his tongue sweeps out to lap up that last drop of milkshake.

“One does so love to garner a reputation.”

David winces. He's not been deaf to the whispers these last few months, that the Jones boy drove his family away by his behaviour, Killian's leather and swagger not enough to stop the hiss of faggot in his wake. He's heard the sermons against the sodomites in the church Killian no longer attends, had nodded along with the other boy’s teeth marks still purple at his shoulder.

“I didn't mean…”

Killian smiles again, soft in a way that makes David's chest hurt, and taps a nicotie stained finger against the edge of the glass.

“I think you did.”

“Killian, I -”

Killian leans down and takes David’s chin firmly in hand. “I think you mean this too.”

His lips are feather soft and oh so fleeting as they brush against David’s, the sticky sweetness of the milkshake lingering as he pulls away, his cheeks bright and his eyes brighter. David can't help but crane after him, his throat parched for the want of another morsel of that sweetness even asKillian slips out of the booth, and out of his grasp.

“One day,” he says, his own breaths a little uneven, “you might even admit it.”

“You know I can't,” David mumbles, his hands reaching out for the other boy against his will. “Killian you know I can’t.”

“You won’t, you mean. Not that it matters.”

Killian’s lip curls, and David's heart sinks as he pulls a crumpled dollar from his pocket and drops it on the tabletop.

“You can't lie to yourself forever, Nolan,” he sneers. “Until then, I'll buy my own damn milkshakes.”

The next week finds David parked up on the bluff, Mary Margaret at his side and his college acceptance tucked into his pocket.

He smiles and laughs and kisses her until her shirt is askew and her lips are red as blood, drowns himself in the taste of her lipstick until he's almost forgotten, until it matters. Until it’s almost real.

(Real as chocolate milkshake and the scent of leather. Real as stubble against his throat and make me lose, Nolan. Please.

He's the one who loses, he supposes, in the end.

Nobody goes to Granny's on a Wednesday.)

#hencethebravery #captain charming #clare vs writers block #clare vs rare pairs #romantic captain charming #smut adjacent #captain charming angst #i guess #500 followers pornstravaganza

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