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sochilll · 2 months

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Day Two of Pins and Patches Week! (See the prompt list here!)

Day 2: Tears/Drunk

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Michael was aware that he couldn’t just stay in Jake Dillinger’s bathroom forever. He knew at some point he’d have to get off the floor and leave the room and walk through the party and get back to his car and drive home. But he just didn’t think he’d survive any of that at the moment. He lifted his head as yet another person banged on the door. He was concerned that if he ignored them much longer, someone would just break the door down.

He pulled himself to his feet, using the counter for leverage. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were red and puffy.

He opened the door, was shoved aside by some girl he vaguely recognized, and was left to fend for himself in the hallway.

The music pounded in his ears, rattling his teeth. He put his hands over ears, trying to protect them. Trying to be able to think clearly. He needed to get out. He needed to find the door and his car and… uh oh.

Michael hadn’t realized it while fighting with Jeremy or while sitting on the floor crying but he was perhaps a little drunker than he meant to be. When he turned his head, the world took a second to catch up. He swayed.

“Hey man.” Someone grabbed Michael’s shoulder. “You seen—? Hey, you okay?”

Michael blinked. “Jake.”

“Yeah.” Jake ducked to meet Michael’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Michael nodded. Then he started crying. He felt his balance go weird but Jake’s hands were squeezing his shoulders, keeping him upright.

“Um,” Jake glanced around like he was looking for somewhere to put Michael.

“Sorry. Fuck. Shit. Sorry. I just—I got into a big fight with Jeremy. My best friend. And now he ha-hates me. And I didn’t even want to be at this stupid party. No offense. And now I have to go home and I don’t know where the front door is and…” Michael trailed off, hiccuping through his tears.

“Hey,” Jake straightened Michael’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “It’s your lucky day. I can help you find the front door.”

Michael laughed a little, still crying.

Jake fought his way through the crowds of people, gripping Michael’s arm, and hauling him along. Michael stumbled blindly after him.

They reached the front door and stepped out onto the porch. The cold air stung Michael’s wet cheeks. He shivered.

“Look at that. We made it.” Jake grinned at him.

Michael nodded, still having enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

“So, where’s your ride?”

Michael blinked. He pointed at the PT Cruiser parked across the street. “I drove here.”

“Oh.” Jake eyed him. “That’s… probably not a good idea.”

“No, I’m fine,” Michael insisted. “I’m good. I’ll just sit for a minute and then I’ll be good.” He didn’t really believe that but he needed to get away from Jake and this whole humiliating experience, even if it meant sleeping in her car across the street.

“Dude, you’re fucked up. You can’t drive.” Jake glanced behind him at the open front door, then back at Michael. “I’ll take you home.”

Michael snorted. “Like you’re sober right now.”

“I am,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to be. But Rich is on some weird rampage and I’ve been trying to keep track of him all night.” He dug his keys out of his pocket. “Come on.”

Michael stumbled after him, trying to come up with an excuse to not get into Jake’s car. He stopped walking when he saw Jake unlock a shiny black sports car.

“Oh I can’t get in there.”

“Why not?” Jake frowned.

“Cause I might possibly maybe throw up in it. And I can’t afford to pay to fix your upholstery because I’d like to go to college.”

Jake snorted. He shoved Michael toward the car. “We’ll roll the windows down. And I promise I won’t charge you for any puke-related damages.”

Michael dragged his feet but eventually got into the car and gave Jake his address. Jake drove smoothly enough that Michael didn’t get overwhelmingly nauseous on the drive. Only mildly nauseous.

“So what happened with that dude?” Jake asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“You said you were fighting with your friend.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Michael didn’t know how he’d even begin to explain what was happening between them. He figured Jake didn’t really care to know the details anyway. “Just stupid high school shit. He thinks being popular is the most important thing. Doesn’t get that all the popular kids are vapid, selfish, assholes.” Michael looked over, sniffling. “No offense.”

“You say no offense after directly insulting me a lot.”

Michael slid down in his seat. “Sorry. I’m drunk.”

Jake laughed. He pulled up to the curb in front of Michael’s house.

“Thanks.” Michael unbuckled his seatbelt.

“No problem. Honestly, it was nice to get some space from the noise.” Jake gave him a seemingly genuine smile. “I’ll come get you tomorrow so you can get your car.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can… Uber or something.”

“That’s stupid. I’ll probably sleep in pretty late so let’s say noon to be safe.”

“I… uh… okay.” Michael got out of the car. “Thanks.”

“See you around.”

“Yeah. Uh, see you around.” Michael smiled slightly, and then remembered he was supposed to be sad and fixed his face before going inside.

#I had class for 6 hours immediately after work yesterday so I didn’t have time to post it hehe #today’s will be up next!#the first two days basically just being ‘Michael and Jake interact one time and Michael is in love’#day 3 is a different vibe I promise lolol #pinsnpatchesweek #pins and patches #bmc #my writing

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

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Shy

Pairing: Jake Dillinger x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hi could I request a jake dillinger x male reader where the reader keeps becoming a blushing mess every time Jake starts talking to him. And Jake just thinks he’s shy”

__________________________________________________________

When Jake was paired up with the quiet guy from the back of the class for a project in his Biology class, he was sure it was going to go poorly. He’d noticed him before, of course; he wasn’t nearly as oblivious as people seemed to think he was, but whenever he did, the (h/c) always seemed to be turning away or hurriedly shifting his gaze elsewhere. He’d even caught him trying to convince the teacher to switch who they were partnered with.

And now, even sitting right across the table from each other in the school’s library to work on their project, Jake still couldn’t even get him to talk to him. He’d opened and closed his mouth to approach the subject a few times, but always found himself deciding against it.

The (h/c) sighed, dropping his pencil and scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m gonna go grab a few more books,” his partner muttered, pushing back his chair and moving to get up.

“Did I do something?” Jake asked before he could stop himself again. He continued when he noticed how puzzled his partner looked, “To make you hate me so much. Did I do something to cause it?”

The (h/c)’s brows furrowed and he slowly settled back into his seat, watching Jake warily. “What made you think I hated you?”

Jake’s gaze dropped to the book in front of him, the words on the page blurring before his eyes. It was only natural for the (h/c) to be confused; it was unlikely he hated someone he’d never had a conversation with, after all. He shrugged, “You’re always looking away if I look at you and avoiding eye contact and you only ever say the bare minimum to me and even now, you look like you want to be literally anywhere else.”

“I… don’t hate you,” (M/N) replied slowly, still avoiding Jake’s eyes. “I can understand how you might’ve thought that, but I don’t hate you.” Jake was confused, brows furrowing over chocolate eyes as he watched his partner, “Then why…?”

(M/N) sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to decide how to respond. “I like you, okay? I have for a while, but I was too shy to say anything.”

He was just… shy? Well, that definitely made Jake feel better, but what about his other admission? Jake knew almost nothing about the (h/c), so he knew he didn’t share the same feelings yet, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t come eventually…

The (h/c) shook his head with a sigh, pushing himself back to his feet. “Forget it. You can go back to pretending I don’t exist. I’m going to go get those books.”

“I don’t want to,” Jake called after him, slowly getting to his feet when he realized that his words had been enough to stop the (h/c) in his tracks. “I don’t want to forget that you exist or that you have feelings for me.” He made his way around the table quickly, moving to stand behind you, “And if you let me, I want to see if I feel that way about you too.”

(M/N) slowly turned to face him, arms crossed and a hesitant look on his face, “What exactly are you proposing?”

Jake shrugged, grinning slightly as he met the (h/c)’s gaze, “Go out with me? Maybe dinner and a movie sometime?” The brunet’s grin widened when (M/N)’s cheeks darkened with a flustered blush, enamored with the look of embarrassed confusion painted over his features.

“F-fine,” the (h/c) forced out, ducking his head so his blushing wasn’t as apparent. “But if I don’t have a good time, then I’m never speaking to you again.”

Jake caught his hand before he could turn on his heel and vanish into the bookshelves like he so clearly wanted to, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “Don’t worry. I promise you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

#jake dillinger x male reader #jake dillinger x male!reader #reader x jake dillinger #be more chill x reader #be more chill x male reader #be more chill x male!reader #male reader insert #male!reader insert #male reader x #male!reader x #male reader #male!reader

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365days365movies · 3 years

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May 7, 2021: TRON (1982)

Starting to leave lo-fi sci-fi with this one.

Can I just say, I am VERY excited for this one. Mostly because it’s hard to get more ‘80s than this movie, specifically in terms of computers. I’ll explain. Y’know Jurassic Park? Yeah, the same movie I’ve brought up far, FAR too many times this month. Is...is that my favorite sci-fi movie? Shit, it might be? I’ve read the books, I’ve seen the movie COUNTLESS times...I’m pretty sure it is! Huh. Go figure. Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right! Remember the most irritating character in the movie? This is, in my opinion, older sister Lex Murphy. In the book, for the record, she’s a VERY different character. She’s the youngest sibling amongst the two, and she’s a sports nerd who hates dinosaurs. And she’s also the most annoying character in the book, so at least they kept that consistent. However, you may be saying to yourself: “Jesus, this dude really loves Jurassic Park. Even in the intro for Tron, he’s talking about it. Why the hell does he keep bringing it up?”

Well, allow me to explain. When I was 9 years old, I was super into two things: dinosaurs and reading. You may think that I wasn’t very popular in school as a result. And the truth won’t surprise you. Anyway, on January 3rd, 2001, it was a cold morning in the supermarket when

...OK, lemme get to the point. IT’S A UNIX SYSTEM!

See, this moment when Lex hacks into the computer to reactivate the locks (a task given to Tim in the book, but whatever) does two things. One, it makes Lex relevant in a film and story where she’s almost entirely unneeded. And two, it established something in the minds of movie-watchers everywhere: a completely misguided idea of what computer programming is.

And this is just one of MANY examples of Hollywood weirdly representing computers to the public. This was kind of a trend throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, as computers were beginning to become available to the public. Examples are:

WarGames (1983), dir. John Badham

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), dir. James Cameron

Revenge of the Nerds (1984), dir. Jeff Kanew

Weird Science (1985), dir, John Hughes

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), dir. Russo Bros

That last one isn’t a great example, and it’s not even within the right time period. I just love Arnim Zola, and he NEEDS TO RETURN to the MCU. Goddamn it, I want this guy back, complete with his full robot body! COME ON FIEGE, LOOK AT THIS GUY! That last one may or may not be my fanart for the character with my own design NEVERTHEGODDAMNLESS!

Look, all you gotta do is connect the various machinations of Arnim Zola to the foundations of AIM, which is easy given their link in the comics. Zola and his fellow Paperclip scientists helped fund Aldrich Killian’s AIM, and the project to give Zola his sick-ass robot body eventually wound up being a part of the project that would create the hovering robotic chair used by this guy.

THIS IS ALL I’VE EVER WANTED PLEASE

...Ahem.

Anyway, the weird-ass ways that Hollywood’s represented computers, hacking, and all other associated things can be traced back to 1982, when the first film to use mostly computer generated imagery for its setting was created. This was, of course, Disney’s TRON. And while I haven’t seen it before...I’ve see its sequel in theaters?

On a related note, Tron Legacy might be a mediocre film with a mediocre soundtrack, but GODDAMN DO IT LOVE THE FUCKING VISUALS. It’s genuinely my favorite aesthetic. That whole “outlined in light” thing? Goooooooh, BABY, how I love it.

Style over substance, but OH THE FUCKING STYLE

Anyway, despite that, I’m looking forward to seeing where the whole thing came from. I dig that style, too. Is there a name for those aesthetics? Let me know, so I can devote my life to it forever. Anyway, shall we get started?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

So, we start this movie off with a BANG, jumping into an arcade where two kids are playing none other than Lightcycle, and jumping into said Lightcycles to meet one of the drivers, Sark (David Warner). A sadistic program, he takes great pleasure in executing programs in Lightcycle races.

One of these programs, in fact, is being brought into imprisonment now, to be set against Sark in a race. The program, Crom (Peter Jurasik), speaks with fellow prisoner Ram (Dan Shor), where we get some idea of the lore of this place. Many programs believe in “the Users”, god-like figures who they believe created them and tell them what to do. However, the mysterious Master Control Program is rounding up the programs that believe in Users, taking over their functions or executing them. Diggin’ the lore so far.

In the real world, we meet Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges), a computer programmer commanding his own program, Clu (also Bridges), and...look, I’m not sure what they’re doing, but OHHH. IT’S A UNIX SYSTEM, BABY. The beautiful bullshit that this movie uses to denote computer activity and programming, it’s...MMMMMMMMMCHEF’SKISS, it’s so FUCKING GOOD!

Anyway, Clu’s apparently being sent to find some information, but he’s caught by Master Control. Jeff Bridges shows off some pretty over-the-top acting, but it’s charming as hell. Clu’s interrogated by Master Control Program (also Warner), and killed, or “derezzed”. This frustrates Flynn, but why?

Well, we get a clue from MCPs concentration with Ed Dillinger (David Warner), who arrives at his office in the COOLEST FUCKING HELICOPTER I HAVE EVER SEEN. I will never make enough money to have this helicopter, but maybe one day I can do it to a car, holy shit. Anyway, Dillinger lands and enters the ENCOM building, where he speaks with his computer table, which contains MCP.

Is this a thing with computer programmers? Do they, like, physically talk to their programs, and the programs talk back? Is this a thing that happens? Are the conversations interesting? Are IT people literally computer-whisperers? I gotta talk to my friends in computer sciences and IT about this.

Apparently, Flynn’s been snooping around their servers for a specific file, and they’re trying to stop him from getting that file. Meanwhile, in an office in the building, a man named Alan Bradley (Bruce Boxleitner) is blocked out of the system in an attempt to flush out Flynn’s location. Bradley’s summoned to the office for what seems like a routine interview, but is actually more of an investigation. Doesn’t go anywhere.

On a side note, by the way, it would appear that MCP is somewhat in control of Dillinger. Although, how and why is unknown. In any case, he’s attempting to amass power. Additionally, the fact that he’s directly speaking to one of the Users is...interesting. And on a second side note, Bradley is preparing something, a security program called “Tron”. That might come up later.

MEANWHILE, elsewhere in the building, a group of scientists are conducting an experiment to digitize solid matter and transport it into computers. It succeeds with an orange, much to their delight and celebration. One of these scientists is Lora Baines (Cindy Morgan), Flynn’s ex-girlfriend and Alan’s current girlfriend. They go to the arcade to reconvene with Flynn, much to Alan’s irritation.

Flynn not only owns the place, he’s also a game whiz, brilliant computer programmer, and recently fired ex-employee of ENCOM. He’s also been sneaking into the ENCOM system, and he details exactly why he’s moving against them. While working for ENCOM, he had started writing programs for some very complex video games, which could’ve have made him quite a bit of money. But Dillinger stole his files, and uses it to climb up the ranks to Senior Executive of ENCOM, while Flynn lounges in relative poverty. He’s planning on getting into the system to get evidence of Dillinger’s wrongdoing.

The trio plots to take down Dillinger and get the evidence together, breaking into ENCOM that night. Meanwhile, Dillinger’s meeting with Walter Gibbs (Barnard Hughes), a co-founder of the company, and one of the other scientists who made the digitizing machine. Dillinger says YOUR TIME IS OVER OLD MAN, and brushes off his concerns about he’s handing the company.

He’s not the only one with issues, as MCP decides to take over FOR Dillinger. Apparently, Dillinger’s talents are stealing data and creating Cybernet/HAL 9000. Good job, buddy. But that may end, when Alan goes to finish and install his program, Tron, which will hopefully take MCP down. Meanwhile, Lora and Flynn go to the basement with the digitizing machine. At the computer terminal, MCP decides to stop Flynn by...well, you know where this is headed.

Yup! Flynn’s brought into the computer by Lora’s machine, and is digitized and put into the game grid. And since we’ll be spending a lot of time there, I think I need to acknowledge something: I really love how this movie looks. The CGI is rudimentary, but it’s used surprisingly well. Consider that this is also made in an era where this is the kind of imagery that computers could literally generate at the time, and you’ve got a pretty great movie in-context.

Flynn, now in those spiffy program duds, is sent by the MCP to compete in the Game Grid, under Sark’s supervision and tutelage. He’s thrown into the brig with the other imprisoned programs, where he learns more about this world. Once brought into the throes of the Game Grid, he’s told that those who believe in the Users are to be trained poorly, ensuring their inevitable death. Meanwhile, those who renounce their belief will be spared. And of all the programs who still believe in the Users, there is none quite as powerful...as Tron (Bruce Boxleitner again).

We see Tron’s badass skills in Ultimate Frisbee. And OK, it’s not Ultimate Frisbee, but you throw discs that contain all of your essence and all of the things you’ve learned in your time there. You basically pour your entire essence and being into the disc as you throw it. So, really, it is Ultimate Frisbee, according to that one dude who’s REALLY into Ultimate Frisbee.

Flynn is commanded to play one of these games, and he winds fairly easily. However, when he defeats his opponent, he’s almost about to die. However, Flynn refuses to finish him off, leading Sark to do so instead. And Sark is tempted to kill Flynn as well, but he holds off at the last moment.

Flynn finally gets to meet Tron, where he feigns being a program that knows of his User, Alan. Of course, Tron looks exactly like Alan, which is why Flynn blurts out his name. But as they’re discussing this, Flynn, Tron, and fellow prisoner Ram are sent to compete in the Lightcycles. And, yes, I’m now looking for a game like this on my phone, because GODDAMN to I love Lightcycles. Can’t WAIT for the Disney World ride, oh my GOOOOD.

So, our guys get in the Lightcycles, and they outmaneuver Sark’s guys. They’re actually able to escape the arena and the Game Grid, making it outside the citadel. They encounter a, uh, bitstream, and soak up some energy before moving on. On the way, though, they’re nearly killed by Sark’s guys in tanks, and Tron is separated from Flynn an the unconscious Ram.

Flynn and Ram finds a place to rest and hide, and Flynn discovers that, as a User, he actually has the ability to somewhat manipulate the reality within the computer, and he makes a version of MCPs ships, the Recognizers, which resemble the villains in Flynn’s game that Dillinger stole. Now realizing that Flynn is a user, Ram asks him to help Tron, before dying and disappearing into pure code. Whoof.

Tron, meanwhile, ends up finding an input/output program named Yori (Cindy Morgan), who helps him in his escape. She takes him through the city, where we see some interesting designs for control programs, almost like a Hunger Games Panem sort of deal.

Flynn has trouble driving his ship, as he meets a “bit”, a small bit of data that only answers in yes or no. He, too, ends up in the city, and you start to notice that this film has a really heavy influence in our cyberpunk concepts and fashions today. Honestly, I really dig this whole thing. Kevin uses his programming powers to disguise himself as one of Sark’s guards, while Yori and Tron find their way through the main citadel of the guards.

They make their way through to the access tower, where they ask the program Dumont (Barnard Hughes again) to let them access the interface that will allow them to speak with the Users, specifically Alan. Reluctantly, Dumont agrees to let Tron through, where he goes to the access port. Which, for the record, looks awesome. He goes to speak with Alan, and he does that one pose. Y’know, the famous Tron pose that’s on the poster?

Yeah, that’s the good stuff. Anyway, he gets information written onto his disc that’ll allow him to kill MCP. Neat. And unfortunately, that’s exactly when Sark and his guys show up, taking Dumont away as Tron and Yori escape. Yori gets them onto a Solar Sailer, a device that will transport them to the central computer. Tron fends off some of Sark’s guys with video game noise kicks, and the Solar Sailer arrives to take them away.

Sark chases after them, but the pair manage to outrun his very cool-looking ship. MCP threatens to destroy Sark for his failure, but he promises that he’ll be able to get them. On the ship, Tron looks down at the side to see Flynn hanging on. Turns out that he was one of the guards that attacked the two. Tron pulls him up onto the ship, and Flynn reveals that he is, in fact, a user. He also reveals that Users aren’t exactly the gods that programs believe them to be.

Anyway, how’s Dumont doing?

Ah.

Well, the Recognizers find Tron, Yori, and Flynn, and chase after them on the light beam the Solar Sailer is on. However, with his User powers, Flynn manages to get the Sailer onto a different beam, while pulses on the original beam destroy the Recognizers.

Doesn’t end up mattering much, though, as Sark finally catches up and intercepts the group. The Solar Sailer is destroyed, and Yori and Flynn are thrown in the brig with Dumont, who’s still alive! Can’t say quite as much for Tron, apparently. But, again, I can only assume that Ton is still alive. We’ll see, though. Sark denies Flynn’s identity as a User for some reason (I mean, MCP told you who he was, but OK), and he sentences them all to death. Outside the ship, of course, is Tron, who’s hiding and waiting for the right time to strike. And that is when we finally see him.

Glorious. Absolutely goddamn glorious. MCP is taking the remaining programs that believe in Users, Dumont included, and incorporating them into his mass. Meanwhile, Sark has found Tron, and the two are fighting with a classic game of Ultimate Frisbee. Tron nearly defeats Sark entirely, but MCP revives him, and gives him the power to take out Tron. He grows gigantic, and it looks genuinely really convincing.

Flynn prepares to take out MCP once and for all, and kisses Yori just beforehand, which is weird as shit. He jumps into the program, and controls it just long enough for Tron to throw his disc at it and land the finishing blow. And with that, MCP is ended, and the threat of take over is gone! The I/O towers light up, and the Video Warriors have won! Don’t ask me what that means, I study birds.

And with ALL OF THAT DONE, Flynn gets the proof he needs from a print-out that, to be honest, I feel like he could’ve just typed up himself. It doesn’t look like that much. But, still, MCP is gone, Dillinger’s screwed, and Flynn now gets a cool-looking helicopter of his own, as the new CEO of ENCOM. And from there, he will become a deadbeat dad that abandons his kid to live in computers forever. Or something like that, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Tron Legacy.

And that’s Tron, a goofy movie of its time, but one that’s a lot of fun all the same. And with some effects that, to be honest...I actually really liked! But more on that...IN THE REVIEW! See you there!

#tron #tron 1982 #steven lisberger #jeff bridges #bruce boxleitner #david warner #cindy morgan #barnard hughes #science fiction may #sci-fi may #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #useranimusvox #userbrittany

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wrestlingwithhistory · 3 years

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Arn & Sid

There are many places across the world that you associate with some of the biggest moments in Pro Wrestling: Montreal for the Screwjob, New York for Wrestlemania I, Minneapolis for the first Monday Nitro, but one of the places that people have very low down on their list is Blackburn, England which is where this particular story took place.

On October 27th, 1993 WCW were in England as part of a European Tour. As was customary during these times, the wrestlers would always congratulate each other on a show well done with alcohol and a few popping pills.

2 Cold Scorpio: "We go over there and fly into [Blackburn, England]. We drove three hours, got to the show, just off the airplane, and did the show. After the show, we had a three or four-hour drive, maybe even five, back to the hotel where we were staying out of [Blackburn]. Everyone was off the bus, taking a few pills, having a few drinks…"

There were a number of accounts of this incident due to the amount of talent that were in the bar at the time of the catalytic argument that started the incident in question. After a few drinks, the conversation quickly changed to the performers talking shop, trying to work out the business and why things were going wrong.

Three of the group in question were Arn Anderson, Sid Vicious and Vader. Not 3 of the smallest men by any account, but according to some of the witnesses to the incident, you could see quickly that it was about to escalate further. Arn and Sid were talking about what was happening within the industry, specifically were the money was going.

Sid Vicious: "I’ll tell you exactly what happened. We were in a bar, and I was just waiting for food. We were all at a table drinking…Arn asked the question, ‘What’s wrong with our business? Why aren’t we drawing? The other company this and the other company that…So I said, ‘You want to know what’s wrong with our business? We have an old man in Ric Flair who needs to get the fuck out of the way!”

According to a few of the witnesses, those being 2 Cold Scorpio, The Nasty Boys and Vader, Arn and Sid began to get heated after Arn defended his friend and fellow horseman Flair. Vader said in one interview that after the words began to heat up, he got up and left the situation, taking himself to bed to avoid any ensuing injuries.

Sid claimed that he was suddenly pelted with beers at the bar by Anderson and retaliated in kind by throwing a beer back at Anderson. The wrestlers separate and go back to their rooms.

Sid: “As I was going to my room, [Arn Anderson] and a bunch of the other guys were in the hallway, and he broke a beer bottle and threatened to cut me.”

Sid avoided confrontation with Arn at this particular time, saying he went back to his room and although he wanted to go back to the bar, he ate a sandwich and dwelled over the previous moments.

Sid: “I got in there, and I wasn’t going to sleep real nice. I wanted to go back to the bar, but I actually went into my room, ate a part of my sandwich, and said to myself, ‘Man, this motherfucker!’ I have a bad temper, too. I said, ‘This fucker threw a beer in my face, and now he’s threatening me with a fucking beer bottle broken?’ You know, you have to draw a fucking line!”

After drawing this alcohol fuelled conclusion, Sid then snapped a leg off one of the chairs in the hotel room and made his way to the door of Arn’s room.

2 Cold Scorpio: "I hear somebody, and I’m like, ‘What the fuck? Somebody is fighting out there!’ I’m thinking it’s Vader. I’m like, ‘Goddamnit!’ Vader obviously starting shit with somebody again, man! So, I go over to Vader’s room, and shit, and I hear [snoring sounds]. I hear the motherfucker snoring through the door!”

Sid claims that he made his way to the door of Arn Anderson and proceeded to bang on the door, chair leg in hand. On hearing a drunken Arn stumbling his way through to the hotel door, he had a change of heart.

Sid: “When I got back down there, there was nobody in the doorway or the hallway, and [Anderson’s] door was shut. So, I knocked on his door and said, ‘Come on out here, motherfucker! Bring your beer bottle!’ Some words were exchanged. I couldn’t totally hear him, but I hear him falling down and stumbling around, and I think, ‘Ah, he’s fucked up…’ I looked at my hand and thought to myself, ‘This is fucking stupid.’ So, I threw the fucking thing.”

According to Sid’s story, Arn appeared at the door, scissors in hand to which Sid was claimed to say “Hey man, this has gone too fucking far…” but in that moment Arn came after Sid with the scissors and they began a brawl in the corridor of the hotel.

Sid: “I don’t remember getting stabbed in the beginning. There were two doors in the corridor there, and he backed me up there, and I had nowhere to fucking run. When he came into me and got close to me, I think I hit him one time, and he fell down like at my feet. When he did, I looked at him, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the scissors fall. They were falling out of my stomach. I have a scar right there. So, when I saw the scissors falling out, I realized I had been stabbed. I didn’t feel it in my face or hands, but he launched back for them a second time, but my feet had got them first. And then, I don’t know; it happened so fast…"

Arn’s version of the story is very different to Sid’s. Arn claims that Sid was bragging about ‘holding up’ WCW for $100,000 after Anderson had received a pay cut and said that “The old fuckers need to retire” which started the argument between the two. He then states he was helped to his room by Doug Dillinger and after a while heard banging on his door. As he answered the door, he claims he was hit on the head and was instantly knocked out. He also claimed that as he came to, Sid was on top of him throwing punches and that is when he fought back and got hold of the scissors.

Sid: “You can look at the records the police had. The stick he said I hit him with never touched him. It was twenty feet the opposite way where the fight had happened, and that stick had not one drop of blood, not one dent in it like it had been hit or nothing.”

Anderson was stabbed 20 times to the chest and stomach, Sid was stabbed 4 times were deported back to the US after receiving medical treatment in the UK and no charges were filed for the incident. On returning back to the US, Sid was fired with immediate effect and Anderson was suspended.

Sid: "When I was in the hospital, the police, or whatever you call them, the law enforcement over there, they came into my room trying to get me to press charges against him. I said, "No, man, I’m not going to press charges against him. We both made mistakes. I don’t know how bad he’s really hurt.’ I really didn’t. And they’re like, ‘You know your friend, he’s got not one scratch on him.’ Here I’m having exploratory surgery already; I’ve got stabs on my face, and I said, ‘He’s not got a scratch on him?’ I thought maybe- as I said, it happened so fast. I really don’t remember it happening. And I thought, ‘This motherfucker!’ So, I was going to press charges on him. Later that night, the nurse came over to my room and said, ‘Your friend is really messed up.’ So, I dropped the charges."

Eric Bischoff talked about the incident on the 83 Weeks podcast – “I was at home. It was — I don’t remember what time of day it was, but I think it was pretty late in the evening when I got a phone call from Doug Dillinger, who gave me the first account of what happened and kind of gave me the status of everything. At that point, I think Sid was in the hospital or had just gotten out of the hospital, so the first report I got was that it wasn’t life-threatening, but it was serious, obviously. God, I was to say it was, I don’t know, around 8:00, 9:00 at night maybe? Maybe a little bit later. I don’t remember what time it was, but it was Doug Dillinger who gave me the first piece of news.”

Regarding why Sid was fired and not Arn, Bischoff was open in saying that Ric Flair helped influence that decision, as were many others on the WCW roster who were unhappy with Sid’s behaviour on the tour. Bischoff also stated that as the instigator of the fight, by Sid going to Arn’s room to continue the argument, this more than likely assisted with the decision to let him go over Arn Anderson.

2 Cold Scorpio: "I go down the steps, and I see blood galore. Blood on the left, blood on the right, blood all down the fucking hallway and shit. I keep on walking, and I’m in the fucking hallway with a goddamn towel. I get down there, and Sid Vicious and Arn Anderson are down there just brawling. They were covered in fucking blood. Sid Vicious got the fucking scissors and got Arn Anderson by the hair, and he’s booting him in the fucking face, stabbing him with the scissors every which way. Arn Anderson got blood spitting out of him like a horror movie and shit, man. I see Sid kicking Arn Anderson’s nose, and it does a 180 turn straight the fuck up and shit. I’m like, ‘Damn!’ I jump in, boom, push them apart and shit, and Arn Anderson kind of falls against the wall from half drunk and half loss of blood and shit, and he just kind of stumbles against the wall. Sid kind of steps back, and he looks at me, and I step back in my stance, and I’m like, ‘Damn, I don’t want to have to take you down!’ You know what I’m saying? But that shit got stopped. Sid just looked at me [eyes wide open] freaked out."

After the firing, Sid went onto wrestle for USWA for just over 18 months before re-joining WWF as Psycho Sid where he competed between 1995 and 1997 winning the WWF title twice during his time. He left due to a neck injury and popped up in ECW in January 1999 before going back to WCW in June 1999. He wrestled there for 2 years until a horrific fracture of his tibia and fibula in 2001 forced him into a first retirement as the company was acquired by WWF and his contract was not picked up during the purchase.

Arn Anderson continued working with the then Turner based WCW up until its buyout by WWF in 2001. On joining the WWF, he was given the role of Road Agent and stayed with the company for a further 18 years in the role. He left in 2019, making an appearance at AEW All Out and later that year signed a contract with AEW, primarily as Cody Rhodes’ personal advisor and head coach making his official debut on the January 1st, 2020 Dynamite show, going on to sign a multi-year contract in June of that year.

Hope you’ve enjoyed reading this post, please leave a like and a comment!

#wcw wrestling #sid vicious #arn anderson #scissors #blackburn #england #wwf #aew wrestling

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rising-above-stars · 4 years

Text

‘’she’s the sweet to your savoury’’

Hey @kaijuusandkryptids! Here’s your gift for @bmc-gift-exchange! Have some Jake helping Chloe with some gifts for Brooke! Hope you enjoy it!

“Chlo, I have absolutely no idea why you need me to tag along with you,” Jake said as he followed Chloe down the street. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, watching his friend for a moment. The two of them had patched up their (unhealthy) relationship. They weren’t good together, they both knew that. But they couldn’t keep running right back to each other, constantly making each other jealous, or miserable. And, frankly, Jake liked this Chloe much better. They were better off as friends, and they were close friends at that. Which meant that Jake got to see a side of Chloe he hadn’t seen in a long time, back before the first time they started dating. Back when their friendship, and later relationship, was purely innocent. He had to admit, he missed that about her. Right now, Chloe was almost unreadable. She was determined, she always was. There was a hint of anxiousness underneath. Why, Jake wasn’t so sure. Chloe huffed, tugging her jacket tighter around her as the cold wind bit at her. She was definitely regretting deciding to walk today. “Because I value your opinion.”

She didn’t need to look at Jake to see the questioning look on her face. She sighed, pulling the hair out of her face. “And because you can stop me from going overboard.” Jake sighed, shaking his head. “This is Brooke we’re talking about, you realise that, right?” “Exactly!” Chloe said. “It’s Brooke! So, everything needs to be perfect.” “Counterpoint- Brooke will be happy with whatever you get her as long as it comes from you.” Chloe sighed, shaking her head. Stupid Jake. Jake was right. Who gave him the right to actually have some decent advice when it came to relationships? She had to admit, his occasional bursts of wisdom weren’t a bad thing. But can’t she just worry about making sure that everything is perfect for her girlfriend? “You know I’m right, Chloe.” “Shut up…” Chloe mumbled. Jake let out a soft laugh. The girl let out a huff and dragged Jake into the mall. They were immediately greeted by the warm air from the heating. “I don’t understand why we walked,” Jake said. “Because I thought it was a good idea. And I was clearly wrong.” Jake sighed, shaking his head. “You’re way too tense, Chlo.” “I am not.” “We are going to Sbarro's before we do anything else.” “Jake, I need to find something for Brooke!” Chloe ducked around Jake, heading towards a store her and Brooke frequently went to. Jake sighed and turned around. He grabbed Chloe’s shoulders, steering her away from the store. “Sbarro's, Pinkberry, then shopping for Brooke.” Chloe huffed. “You’re not going to let me say no, are you?” Jake grinned. “Nope!” He wrapped an arm around Chloe’s shoulders as he led her through the mall.

“You always get the most boring flavours,” Chloe said, stirring her frozen yogurt. The two of them sat opposite each other in a booth at Pinkberry. Jake rolled his eyes. “Says the one who puts pineapple on pizza.” “It’s not actually that bad!” “Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza!” “The sweetness from the pineapple compliments the savoury of the pizza. It goes perfectly together.” Jake hummed for a moment, eating a spoonful of his strawberry frozen yogurt. “Maybe you should get Brooke some pineapples.” Chloe paused, just about to eat another mouthful of her mint-chocolate yogurt. She slowly lowered the spoon and frowned. Jake could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Why the fuck would I get Brooke a pineapple?” “One, I said pineapples, plural. Two, Brooke is the sweet to your savoury. The pineapple to your pizza.” Chloe just stared at Jake for a moment. “Did you seriously just make a metaphor for Brooke and I out of pizza?” “Are you going to sit there and tell me I’m wrong?” “I…” “You can’t argue against me, Valentine. You could get her something sweet, something yellow. Yellow is her favourite colour, right? She’s always wearing that yellow cardigan of hers. It looks incredibly comfortable. And she’s a sweet tooth, right? Chloe, are you-” “Shut up.” “What-“ “I said, shut up. I’m thinking.” “Don’t overthink this gift.” “Jakob Samuel Dillinger, I swear to God if you don’t shut the hell up, I will pour your frozen yogurt on your head.” Jake smiled and nodded. He mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. He went back to eating his frozen yogurt. It took a few minutes before Chloe stood up, her frozen yogurt now a sad puddle of chocolate and mint. Jake hummed, placing the cup down. “I need you to find a recipe for honey lemon cupcakes and get the ingredients. Then meet me at the florist.” Jake nodded, giving Chloe a mock salute as he stood. “Roger that,” he said before he walked out of the store. Chloe sighed, running a hand through her hair. She walked out of Pinkberry, finding her way into a toy store.

A few minutes later, Jake walked into the florist with a few bags full of baking ingredients. He smiled as he saw Chloe. She was hugging a giant plush bee, and he could see a small teddy bear poking out of her bag. He let out a soft hum before walking over to her. “I take it there’s one more thing on your shopping list?” Chloe groaned, hiding her face in the stuffed bee for a moment. She lifted her head again, almost glaring at the bunches of roses she was standing in front of. “I want to get her flowers. But I don’t know what flowers to get her!” “Well, what does Brooke remind you of?” Chloe took another look around the store again, her eyes landing on the bundles of sunflowers. “I’ll take all of them.”

---

Jake followed Chloe into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. “I’m sure you did not need to buy every single bunch of sunflowers.” “I don’t think this will be enough! I should have bought them all.” Jake shook his head. “You have plenty of sunflowers. Now, what’s the plan?” “Well- we need to make and decorate the cupcakes. And I want to make flower crowns out of these sunflowers- The gifts need to be wrapped and presented perfectly-“ “I’m going to stop you right there, Chlo.” Chloe frowned, about to open her mouth to protest before Jake cut her off. “No offence, but you are terrible at baking. I’ll deal with the cupcakes, you make the flower crowns. And it doesn’t have to be perfect, Brooke will love anything you do.” Chloe sighed, giving Jake a reluctant nod. He set everything on the table while Jake disappeared into the kitchen. “You owe me big time!” He called out. That put a smile on Chloe’s face. “Already planning Rich’s gifts for you!”

After a long afternoon, Chloe sat slumped in a chair at the table. A vase sat in the middle with a bundle of sunflowers. Another bunch laid next to it, perfectly wrapped in yellow paper and ribbon. A brown paper gift bag sat next to them, the bee and teddy bear nestled inside. The two flower crowns sat in front of Chloe, along with the unused sunflowers. Jake came out and placed a tray of cupcakes down in front of the gifts. He looked at Chloe. “Go freshen up, I’ll make sure everything stays okay down here.” Chloe rolled her eyes and stood up. “Thought you said Brooke wouldn’t mind if everything wasn’t perfect.” “I did. But, my dear Chloe, there’s a difference between things not looking one hundred per cent perfect and you looking absolutely shattered before your date.” Chloe let out a laugh, shaking her head as she headed upstairs.

She returned a few moments later only for Jake to place one of the crowns on her head. She rolled her eyes but smiled. She leaned up, placing a friendly kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Jake.” Jake smiled in return. “Not a problem. You have no idea how often I have to deal with you two overthinking your dates.” The doorbell rang and Jake smiled. He picked up the remaining flower crown. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave. Have fun. But not too much fun,” he said playfully. Chloe laughed, sitting down at the table.

Jake opened the door, smiling at Brooke. “Well, you’re just in time. And you look fantastic.” Brooke smiled back. “Thanks, Jake. What are you doing here?” “Damage control. Just leaving. Chloe made you this-“ he placed the flower crown on Brooke’s head before stepping past her. “Enjoy your date!” Brooke waved back at Jake before stepping inside. She shut the door behind her before looking for Chloe. The blonde stopped in the doorway at the sight of the gifts on the table. “Chlo… You didn’t have to do all this…” Chloe smiled. She stood up and walked over, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. “Mm… Maybe so, but my girlfriend only deserves the world.” Brooke giggled as Chloe pressed a kiss to her lips. “I already have the world. I have you.”

#bmc gift exhange #bmc winter gift exchange #pinkberry #brooke lohst #chloe valentine #jake dillinger #bmc #be more chill #i overuse exclamation marks!#mm... this could have done with a little less jake and a little more pinkberry #but this is what i came up with #i really hope you enjoy it though!!!

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

2x08: Crossroad Blues

Welcome to this season’s real hellatus! We’ve got a little theme for the episodes we’re recapping. Try and guess what it is :D Also, we have some good news and bad news. Good news: We’re going to do a whole week of recaps towards the end of the break! Yay! Bad news: They’re all episodes that we hate. We need to get them off our recap plate before the show ends. Enjoy the hellatus (*crying noise*).

Then:

Sam Winchester, professional puppy dog

Now:

Greenwood, Mississippi

August, 1938

Robert Johnson plays Crossroads Blues on a stage to a crowd at a bar. He briefly hears growls but continues to play. He stops again when he sees shadows race outside. The crowd looks confused. Robert runs outside after hearing barks. He races to a shed, but the unseen source of the barking follows him. He kneels to await his fate.

The door bursts open to find a woman and two men from the bar. The men run to find help and the woman pleads with Robert to stay with her as he mutters, “Dogs, black dogs.” He dies in her arms.

Sam and Dean are at a diner and Sam’s researching how much of an outlaw Dean is. Sam is upset because it’s going to make their job harder now that the feds have them on their radar. Well, they have Dean on their radar. Dean thinks Sam is jealous.

Sam’s got a case. An architect jumped off a building he designed, after calling animal control about seeing wild black dogs in his condo.

There’s a ton of lore on black dogs. Dean brings the real insight to the situation when he tells Sam, “Bet they could hump the crap out of your leg.” AND I MISS THIS DEAN SO MUCH SOME DAYS.

They interview Gunner Lawless his business partner under the guise of writing a tribute for Architectural Digest. His partner is resentful but admits that the man was a genius. He wasn’t always that way though. He wonders why people with true talent die young.

The brothers’ next stop is at an area animal shelter. Dean flirts his way into learning more about black dogs in the area. Dean Bean got Carly’s MySpace address too.

They next head to interview all the people that reported the black dogs. The first on their list is Dr. Sylvia Pearlman. She hasn’t been home in two days. Dean notes that she’s chief of surgery at her hospital, a position she’s had for ten years. She’s only about 42, so she’s very young for that position. They also find a connection to their vic and the doctor. They both visited a place called Lloyd’s Bar.

Meanwhile, the doctor is hiding out in an early season dingy motel room. She’s frazzled and petrified when someone knocks on the door. The motel staff is there demanding money for another night’s stay. She grabs her money and turns to the man in the door, only to see his face warp unnaturally.

The boys find Lloyd’s Tavern next. On the cross road outside the joint, Dean notices yarrow flowers growing alongside the road. These flowers are used for summoning rituals. They put things together and start digging a hole in the middle of the crossroads. They find a tin with various items in it.

People have been summoning and making deals with a demon. “Y’know cause that always ends good.” EAT YOUR WORDS DEAN. Sam says that these people aren’t seeing black dogs, they’re seeing hell hounds.

Meanwhile, the doctor meets her end with a visit from her own date with the hell hounds.

Rosedale, Mississippi

1930

We witness Robert Johnson make his crossroads deal with a demon.

Sam notes that whatever they’re dealing with is a lot like the Robert Johnson lore. Dean notes that Johnson’s music is full of references to hell hounds, demon deals, and the occult. Dean’s barely-tolerating-this-bullshit eyeroll is truly a wonder. (Objectification Sidenote: Damn, Dean’s pretty in this scene.)

Anyway, they have a picture of another person that made a deal, George Darrow. They head to where he lives. They notice pepper on the doorsill. George answers his door but doesn’t want anything to do with them. They reveal that they know about the supernatural and tell him they want to help. Sam asks about the pepper and George tells them that it’s actually goofer dust. It keeps out demons.

George talks about making his deal and reveals that the demon stayed around Lloyd’s for a week making deals with other people. George mentions the architect and doctor. There’s one other person that also made a deal ten years prior, a man named Evan Hudson. George is resigned to his fate and tells the brothers to leave.

Evan Hudson works in his home office late at night and flinches at hell hound barks. His wife peeks in before she heads off on a trip.

As she’s bidding him farewell, her face warps into a dead zombie howl. WHEE HALLUCINATIONS!

Sam and Dean arrive at Evan’s house. Dean opens with asking about Lloyd’s Bar, and Evan immediately slams the door in his face and retreats into his home. That went well! Dean kicks down the door and I’m FINE WITH THIS and not objectifying him at all.

The Winchesters corner Evan in his office. Yes, he knows hell hounds are coming for his soul. Dean’s bitterly dismissive of Evan’s distress, joking about potentially frivolous reasons for him to bargain his soul away. Evan reveals that his wife was dying of cancer, and he made a deal for her health. While Sam melts into a puppy-eyed puddle, Dean still reacts to this with anger. “You ever think about her in all this?” Dean asks. “I think you did this for yourself. So you wouldn’t have to live without her. Well guess what? She’s gonna have to live without you now.”

Dean’s anger is...counterproductive. So Sam pulls Dean away and they consult in the hall. Dean instructs Sam to spread George’s goofer dust around while he high tails it to the crossroads to summon himself a demon. He’ll exorcise it, and that will buy them a little time. Sam calls this out as a reckless plan and speculates that Dean’s only doing it because he thinks their dad made a deal. “What if he struck a deal?” Dean asks. “My life for his soul?” OH this SWEET EMOTIONAL TORTURE! He heads out to summon the demon.

Dean buries his offering in the crossroad and turns around to find a woman smirking at him. She’s a crossroads demon! They take turns objectifying each other and then Dean invites her to meet in his car for a little privacy. Classic serial killer pickup line.

Dean tells the demon his terms. He wants Evan released from his deal and he’ll barter himself for it. “You’d sacrifice yourself for someone else?” she says with a devilish smile. “Like father, like son.”

DRAMATIC MUSIC BREAK

The demon gleefully taunts Dean about John’s deal. When Dean tries to usher her into his car, she balks at the edges of the devil’s trap she sees peeking out from under Baby. Nice try, Dean Bean!

Meanwhile, Evan does his best dramatic chipmunk (prairie dog) impression.

The hell hounds are now growling from INSIDE THE HOUSE! Sam and Evan watch the doors warily.

While the hounds close in, Dean gets emotionally traumatized by the demon. (Side note, her breath is visible in this scene and she’s wearing a short sleeved, thin dress. I’m cold in sympathy.) She taunts him about his man-pain and terrible guilt about John’s death. She has the power to bring back John. Dean seems...interested.

The hell hound at Evan’s house stops rattling the door and the room goes silent for a moment until...the hound bursts through the ventilation grate! What a smart doggo!

Dean wants to learn more about the potential to bring back his dad and mopes under a wooden structure until the demon joins him there. She tells him she can give him a ten year deal: John’s life for Dean’s, and they get ten years together before Dean heads below. She plays Dean like a fiddle, and we get a callback to Dean’s feelings in Faith - that he’s not supposed to be alive. Dean experiences VERY LARGE EMOTIONS before wandering out of the structure. “You think you could throw in a set of steak knives?” He directs her attention upward, where he’s painted a devil’s trap on the underside of the structure. What a smart Dean Bean! Excellent misdirection.

Dean reels off HIS deal: Evan lives, and the demon goes free. If she doesn’t strike a deal, she gets exorcised. (Which is SO embarrassing amirite?)

Dean starts the exorcism and it starts a fierce wind to howling. The wind gusts into Evan’s house and blows away Sam’s goofer dust circle. Sam and Evan run for safety. The hell hound barks fiercely...until it doesn’t.

Cut to Dean angry-kissing the demon. A kiss seals the deal (apparently all demons like to slip a little tongue). (Insert crack headcanon that this is Crowley in an alternate vessel, when he first gets heart eyes for Dean.)

The demon tells Dean that her word is her bond, but if Dean breaks their deal then the first thing she’ll do when she escapes Hell is tear into Evan like he’s wet paper.

The demon can’t resist one parting shot. Dean should’ve taken the deal. John Winchester’s torture is unimaginably bad. Dean charges for her, the demon smokes out, and Dean’s left with a scared woman in the middle of the crossroads and way too many feelings.

Driving away, Sam and Dean listen to the blues and contemplate John’s deal. Sam tries to focus on the people John saved, but Dean’s stuck in a sadness pit of his own making. Sam asks him if he considered actually making the deal. Dean doesn’t answer, instead just turning the music up.

Oh, Dean.

The Quotes Bark at Midnight:

Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something

I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg

MySpace, what the hell is that?

Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?

You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 2x08 #crossroad blues #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural season 2

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eepwritesstuff · 5 years

Text

In His Arms || BMC

TTW: Major character death. If this may trigger you, please do not read this! (if it won’t, I promise it ends okay.)

Jeremy POV:

I feel my eyes snap open and my breathing get fast. A scream forces its way from my throat, without me even knowing why. What... happened last night? All I remember is...

Fire. Rich. He... he set a fire. My own screams, desperate, trying to escape the blaze. And I had... Failed?

No. That doesn’t make sense. Surely, I’m alive, and I got out. But... That’s not what I remember. I remember being burned alive, my skin burning, the smell of burning and melting skin wafting to my nose until the pain became too much and I passed out.

Had I stayed there? If so, there’s no way I was still alive. So... The question stood. Where was I?

I sit up and see... Michael’s room? And there’s Michael, laying on his bed. He’s wearing his shirt from last night, but he has tear stains on his face. I feel really guilty. I hadn’t meant to call him a loser. I was just stressed, and scared, and I lashed out.

I walk over to him and try to wake him up. “Hey... Michael...” I whisper, shaking him. But my arm went through him. Oh. Oh no. OH GOD, WHAT WILL I DO?

I CAN’T BE A G H O S T. I CAN’T BE DEAD.

As I panic, Michael slowly wakes up, groaning miserably. I wave my hand in front of his face. “Michael, please, you have to hear me, you have to be able to see me, please, I’m so sorry, just see me, please see me-” I beg, but he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slowly gets up and turns on his phone. I sit next to him, hyperventilating.

As he turns it on, he’s bombarded with notifications. All about last night, the fire. He immediately looks it up on google, seeing the articles and posts. He lands on a news article and reads through it. There’s a list of the people claimed by the fire. He scrolls through, seeing name after name. Richard Goranski. Jake Dillinger. Dustin Kropp. Madeline Cornfeldt. He stops when he sees a certain name, gasping and whispering, “No...” And, there it is. Jeremiah Heere.

He starts shaking, pulling his knees up to his chest as tears well up in his eyes. “No, no, nonono... This can’t be right, please let this be a joke, Jeremy can’t be” his voice cracked. “Don’t let him be- he’s gotta be okay. He’s always been okay. He’s always been there. Don’t let him be gone, foreve-” His sobs cut him off as he breaks. As he’s breaking, I am too. I’m dead. I never got to tell him. I never got to apologize. The last thing I said to him before- I called him a loser. All he has now is that memory, over and over, and I can’t do anything.

He sobs for hours, inconsolable, and I’m right beside him. I’m sobbing, and so is he, and there’s nothing either of us can do to help each other.

Eventually, our tears stop. He pulls out his computer and begins typing frantically. I look over his shoulder. He’s looking up something on Google, and he’s muttering stuff under his breath. Stuff like, “C’mon, c’mon...” and “It’s gotta work...” I look at what he’s looking at. It’s a website... About SQUIPs? I thought there’s no information about them online? Well, apparently there is, because Michael’s looking at it. Specifically, the protection measures that SQUIPs use to protect the host body. Apparently, they stop at nothing, even self destruction, to keep the host body in tact. It explains all the cases in which the host, and the SQUIP, were found dead, but the body itself was perfectly intact. Protecting the body like this uses all of the SQUIP’s capacity and ultimately kills it, but the body stays perfectly in tact. I’m confused as to what Michael is planning on doing with this information. Of course, I can’t actually ask him, so I just sit here and wait as he researches for hours on end, not even eating.

Now, it’s around 3 pm, and his stomach growls. he ignores it and keeps working. “JUST EAT, ALREADY. YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE, TOO!” I scream, in frustration.

He sits straight up, eyes wide as he frantically looks around the room. “J-Jer?” He whispers, hope in his voice. I try to respond. “Michael, yes, I’m here! How did you hear me?” His expression drops as he shakes his head. “I’m losing it, he isn’t actually here. I mean, c’mon, Mell. This isn’t Apocalypse of the Damned, there’s no spectator portion after you die. He’s gone. But he doesn’t have to be. Just get back to work.” I narrow my eyes at him, even though he can’t see me. He can’t die, he doesn’t deserve to. At this rate, he will within a few days, out of exhaustion and lack of food. I try again, focusing everything I have on saving Michael. “Michael. I’m not joking, go eat now. Please, you can’t die too...” His head shoots up again, and his hands shake. “Jer... You’re here? How? Are you okay?” I try doing what I did last time, but it’s difficult. “I’m here. Don’t know how. I’m sorry.” Michael’s lip wobbles and a tear rolls down his cheek. He hastily wipes it away, letting out a watery laugh. “Heh, sorry... I just- I thought you were lost, for good.” I can’t help it as a tear runs down my own cheek. I force out more words, already exhausted by the effort it takes. “Missed you. It’s, uh... Really hard to talk, though.” My voice wobbles, and we both know why, but he kindly doesn’t mention it. He nods. “Understandable. Guess I have to go get food now, huh?” I nod in response, even though he can’t see. He sighs and stands, groaning and stretching. He then walks towards the door, and I follow, feeling satisfied.

After he eats a good meal, we both go back upstairs to his room. He gets back on his computer, now looking into people at our school who might practice... necromancy? Oh, Michael... Wait. That could actually work. My body is still in tact, and if somehow, dark magic works, I can... I can live again! I mean, weirder thing have happened. Y’know. Supercomputer, and all. I feel hopeful, for the first time since I woke up like this. Maybe I won’t be stuck like this forever. I don’t just feel hopeful. I feel ecstatic. I don’t even notice, but I start glowing. I don’t notice, until Michael is suddenly looking at me. “Jer? Is... Is that really you?” He murmurs, swallowing hard. Tears brim his eyes as he stares directly at me. “Wait. You can see me? Holy shit. Hi.” I say, feeling stupid, but also I’d missed him. He smiles widely, his tears rolling down his cheeks. “Yeah!” He sniffles. “Hi. I miss you, like... A lot.” He uses his fist to roughly wipe away his tears. ”Yeah... Sorry, Micha. I should have- I shouldn’t have taken the SQUIP, I should have talked to you, I should’ve gotten out-” Michael cuts me off. “No, Jer, don’t blame yourself. Don’t you DARE blame yourself.” He shakes his head frantically. “It’s not your fault, okay? I can’t hear you blaming yourself. We’re gonna fix this, okay?” I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. Sorry. Thank you, for everything. You’re... Really amazing, Michael.” A tear rolls down my face. “What was I supposed to do, just leave you d-” he whispers, as if it’s taboo. “dead?” He gives a weak smile. “Besides, it’s a two player game, right?” I bite my lip. “I ruined that, though, Michael. I left you behind.” He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. I get it, really. I just want to get you back. I want to hug you, and look at you without seeing through you.” I nod. “Yeah, a hug sounds... really, really good right now.” I feel a pain in my chest, but I sit next to him as he grabs his computer and keeps researching.

Eventually, my glow dims until I’m barely visible, but I’m still here. Michael works hard researching, with the occasional witty comment, which always earn a laugh from me. He smiles every time, like he’d never get tired of my laugh.

After hours, he smiles widely. “EUREKA!” I jump. “Wait- REALLY?” my glow starts up again, brighter than before. He nods. “Yeah! Jer, we can bring you back!” I smile, hope running through my veins again. “Oh, Michael, I- how will I ever repay you?” He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, Jer, don’t repay me, really. Just having you okay again will be enough for me.” I smile, feeling tears prick my eyes. “God, Micha. I’m gonna give you the biggest hug, as soon as I can.” Michael smiles. “By my best guess, that would be tomorrow!” I grin. “I can’t wait.” I feel myself getting choked up and I sniffle. Michael’s gaze softens as he looks at me. “Hey. It’ll be okay, Jer. This whole nightmare- it’ll be over soon.” I nod, trying not to cry for what must be the hundredth time these past few days. “Y-yeah. Thanks. God, Micha. It’ll be over. I-I can’t believe it. I- Thank you.” He gives me a sideways smile. “Anything for you, Jer.” I meet his smile with one of my own, trying to suppress the feeling in my chest. Not now.

The next day, we go to the site where the fire had been. We’re both quiet as wee see the place where so many of our peers, including myself, lost our lives. Michael clears his throat. “Uh, do you know where you would... where you, uh... were?” He says awkwardly. I know what he means, so I nod. “Uh... Yeah. Follow me.” I walk through the rubble, retracing my steps. That night... I had come in, talked with Brooke, blown up at Michael... I had gone to try to find a quiet place to break down; I felt bad because of how I’d treated Michael, but I didn’t want to see him cry. I figured that I’d have forever to tell him, to apologize.

I find the room I had been in when the fire started. I push down the tears that are threatening to come to my eyes. It’ll be okay, Michael is gonna fix it. I remind myself. Michael starts digging through the rubble, trying to find my body. He tries to hide it, but I hear his breathing get rough and he starts to cry as a brown curl appears in the rubble. He digs more off of my body, sobbing at this point, and it takes all of my resolve not to vomit at seeing myself. My own dead body. I rush forward and put my arms around Michael. Even if he can’t feel me, I just want him to know I’m here for him. He swallows heavily and hugs my- dirty, but otherwise perfectly fine- body. He sits there for several minutes, just crying and hugging my body. Sometimes he whimpers, but he mostly just cries and holds my body close.

Eventually, he picks up my body and brings it to the car. He lays it down in the back seats and I sit in the passenger’s seat. He climbs into the driver’s seat and takes a deep breath.

“Look, Jer, I know that, like, you’re here and all... But that was honestly the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, and I hope to God I never have to do anything similar ever again. Just... Seeing your body, but you’re not in it, and I know you’re not. It hurt, a lot. Like, worse than anything you could’ve done while you were alive.” He speaks, staring out the windshield. I nod, trying to level out my voice before I speak. “Y-yeah. I’m sorry, Micha. I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I really am so sorry. You’ve been put through so so much, and I hate that you have to deal with any of this, when I can’t offer much comfort. I can’t give you a hug, I can’t put my hand on your shoulder, I can’t hold your h- I can’t, uh, grab you a slushie...” I trail off, flustered from my weak attempt at covering my blunder. Michael gave a weak smile. “Hey, it’ll all be okay. In just an hour, you will be able to do all of that stuff. I’ll hold ya to it.” We give each other small smiles, kindly ignoring the other’s tear stained face.

An hour later, we were back at Michael’s house, and my body was lain on his bed. Michael washed its- my?- face with a wash cloth, wiping away the soot and dirt. He also put it in new clothes, considering mine from that night were dirty and partially burned away. He still had some of my things from when I’d slept over and left things, so he put my body in one of my old Star Wars shirts, a pair of jeans, and a blue cardigan. After all of this was done, he gulps, looking towards me. “You ready to be alive again, Jer?” He asks. I nod frantically. “Yeah, pretty ready, Micha.” He gives a small chuckle and begins on the spell. He says some words I don’t understand, and my ghost-self starts to dim. I feel myself being pulled into my body. He says some more, and I turn invisible again. He speaks some more, and I’m in my body. Wait. I”M IN MY BODY! HELL YEAH!

I snap open my eyes and sit up, not prepared for the overwhelming rush of vertigo that it causes. “MICHAE- ow...” I hold my head. Michael rushes forward. “JEREMY! Oh my god, dude! Wait, are you okay?” I nod, blinking hard. “Yeah, just a little... disoriented.” I open my eyes and look him in the eye. My eyes start filling with tears. “God, Michael, I-” I fling myself at him, holding him close. He quickly hugs back, sniffling. “You’re okay.. Oh, thank god, you’re okay, you’re here now, this is you again.” I smile, feeling tears roll down my face. “Yeah, it’s me. Th-thank you. I love you so much, you know?” He stills before nodding. “I love you, too. When I thought you were gone, I just- I didn’t know what to do. But you’re okay now, and I can hold you again and it’ll be you...” I nod, just feeling his embrace and welcoming it. We’d have time to iron out what we were and everything else, but for now I wanted to just feel safe, and warm, and loved, and happy. Here, in Michael’s arms.

#boyf riends #jeremy heere #michael mell #be more chill #bmc #fanfic #bmc fanfiction

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.2

now to give y’all what you truly only follow me for: more writing about musical characters. catch me sitting here thinking abt hadestown amongst all of this. the longer its been since ive seen it, the more in love with it i fall, i s2g.

warnings: squip bein a piece of shit (so just... manipulation n the like). thts rly about it but let me kno if i need to tag anything else!

All in a moment, you were seeing stars. Rich’s arm had been clasped tightly around your waist, his other hand covering your mouth in an attempt to muffle the screams of anguish that had crashed over you in waves and dragged you under. There was a stinging in your hand, and as you went quiet, you felt Rich tense behind you. Slowly, he drew his hand back from your mouth, letting you go and, regretfully, watching you collapse onto the ground. And then you were seeing stars again - real ones, twinkling overhead as you breathed heavily. The pain tapered off, bit by bit by bit, while fatigue settled in it’s place. All you could do was lay there in the cold dirt, staring up at the the night sky as your chest heaved. Rich finally offered you a hand, waiting until you finally managed to muster up the strength to take it. In a swift movement, he pulled you back onto your feet with ease - and you noticed how buff he was compared to how he was in the past. Dirt covered your clothes, and you noticed that the sting in your hand had been due to it being sliced open by a rock that cut into it during your struggles. Fuck, you were going to have to make sure that was taken care of as soon as you were home. Finally, your gaze fell back to Rich, the headlights of his truck illuminating the entire scene in front of you. Before you could even fathom a thought, you reacted, swinging a punch at his arm and catching him off-guard. Immediately he stepped back, staring at you as he rubbed his arm, brow furrowed in confusion and anger.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked, voice running a little high for a moment. “Also what the fuck, you throw a pretty mean punch for a-”

You didn’t give him time to finish the thought, curling your hands into fists and ignoring the stinging in your palm. “What the fuck, Rich - you said it’d hurt a bit-”

“I said it’d hurt for a bit- you didn’t ask how bad-”

“He is correct. Reviewing your memories shows that he did say it would hurt for “a bit” and not that the pain would be minor-”

“-What the fuck?” You stumbled back slightly, looking around for the source of this new voice for a moment. “Holy shit.”

Rich cracked a smile as you straightened up slightly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I.. think?” You said, voice oozing with uncertainty.

“It did.” The voice said, “like I previously stated, I am your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your SQUIP.”

Was that annoyance? You frowned, looking back to Rich with uncertainty oozing from every movement. “You... you weren’t scamming me-” And you cut yourself off there, “holy shit.” You stood there, processing the events that had just occurred. It wasn’t until Rich glanced to his phone with wide eyes that you realized how late it was.

“Hey, shit, uh - we should get going,” Rich said, “you can... deal with that later,” he picked up the box, “c’mon. I said I’d give you a ride.”

With a slow nod, you followed him back to his truck, and pulled yourself up into the passenger seat with a small leap while Rich rambled off an apology. The whole seizing you and trying to quiet you down because, y’know, you’d been screaming and he didn’t really know how to explain that kind of shit to people without getting arrested. On one hand, you were bothered by that - the immediate instinct being to grab and hold you down - but... you understood. The thoughts of what could have came flood into your head, and - fuck, you didn’t need for the police to show up. He followed every direction you gave him, getting him to stop down the street from your house in order to make your sneaking in easier. With a quick thanks, you hopped out of his truck and shut his door as quietly as you could before crossing your front yard. As you reached your doorstep, you heard his car pulling off, and you glanced over your shoulder to watch him make a u-turn before driving away.

“You need to bandage your hand before it gets infected.” Your SQUIP said. You shut the door behind you, locking it back as you pressed your back against it.

Lowering your voice down to a whisper, you respond. “You kinda sound like-”

“I know. My default setting. Of course, if you dislike it, I have other modes for your perusal-”

You shook your head, “that’s... fine. You’re fine.” Glancing down at your bleeding palm, you head towards the bathroom to find the first aid kit tucked underneath the sink. The sting of disinfectant made you let out a hiss of pain, and you internally cursed the fact that it happened to be your writing hand that got hurt. Note-talking was going to be the highlight of your day, that was certain.

“You should wrap it and keep the wound dry.” Your SQUIP said, right as you were about to unwrap a band-aid.

You found the bandages, and nodded a little. “Okay.”

“You should also avoid speaking aloud when responding to me.”

Pausing, the bandage loosens slightly around your palm, and you looked up into the mirror for a moment. “Then how do I-”

“Think at me.” It said, “like... telepathy.”

You resumed your work for a moment, before going to respond. “Like-” You stopped, “like this?”

“Indeed. I can sense some discomfort whenever you’re responding to me.”

“Yeah,” you wrapped the bandage tight, wiggling your fingers, “I guess... it’s just... it’s kinda weird to just talk to a voice in my head.”

“Think at me.” You frowned at the command, but it continued on with it’s thought nonetheless, “would you prefer something visual? I’m capable of manipulating your senses in order to create something for you to see - albeit a bit more holographic in order to differentiate myself from those around you.” There was a pause, before it finally spoke again, “but it would still be a visual nonetheless.”

Processing the information, you nodded slightly. “That’d be nice but... You could still turn it off, right?”

For a moment, you’re sure that you disappointed it - speaking aloud again. But it finally spoke once more, almost sounding resigned for that night.“Yes. You need to change. You’re still covered in dirt.” You looked down at your dirt-stained sweatpants and shirt. So you were.

Throwing everything back into the kit, you tucked it back underneath the sink and head to your room, glad to be back in this little sanctuary. You stripped off the shirt and sweatpants, kicking them underneath your bed for the time being, making a mental note to throw that in with the rest of your laundry on Sunday, and searched through your drawers for something else to wear. You snatched up an oversize t-shirt, slipping it on before curling up underneath your blankets. Everything felt quiet. You tugged the blankets closer to you as you turned over, and soon you felt drowsiness take over, sooner than you expected. Nonetheless, you were asleep within minutes.

The next morning, you woke up to quiet and found yourself wondering if the night before had been some fucked-up dream. Then you noticed the bandage around your hand, stretching and popping your fingers as you stared at the covered palm. Not a dream, then - but you felt alone, no voice in your head. Maybe it was broken? You scowled a little at the thought - fucking Rich Goranski who scammed you out of six-hundred dollars for a faulty pill that worked for, what, a few hours? What the fuck kind of drugs did he-

A figure glitched into being in front of you. “Good morning.”

You let out a shriek, hand clasping over your mouth as you jumped at the sudden sight and sound before staring at this strange holographic figure in front of you - glitching slightly with it’s movement. You opened your mouth to speak, before closing it, remembering the whole ‘telepathy’ shit. “Good morning?”

“Is this to your liking?” Your SQUIP walked over towards your door, and you just sort of sat there staring at it’s newfound presence. “I can adjust as necessary, but-”

“It’s fine.”

It shot a small frown at you, but looked toward your closet. “We need to discuss this Jeremy that you’re into.”

“What about him?” You bit the inside of your cheek, combing your fingers through your hair. There... was honestly a lot to unpack about Jeremy, if you were honest.

The figure glitched before you, staring at your closet doors. Taking the hint, you walked over, pulling the doors open as you swore you saw a small smirk play upon it’s lips - and, to be honest, you weren’t sure why. “Why Jeremy? There are far more popular boys and girls at Middleborough that would benefit you more to date. For example,” it paused, analyzing as you watched the faintest trace of binary flash through it’s eyes, “Jake Dillinger: kicker for the football team, very attractive, popular... or Brooke Lohst: popular, pretty, and...” It paused again, “... Jake would be better for you.”

Had you thought about dating Jake Dillinger? Sure - a lot of people fantasized about it at least once or twice, because he was Jake Dillinger. But nonetheless, you never had a connection with Jake. Not like you did with Jeremy. “I don’t... I don’t want to date Jake. He’s cute and all, but... I like Jeremy. I want to talk to him again.” Shifting your weight, you stared into the back of your closet absentmindedly. “I miss him.”

Your SQUIP reached past you, fingers fazing through the articles of clothing hanging up before finally withdrawing it’s hands. Slowly, it extended its arm once more, tapping towards a piece of clothing, “take this out. You need to put all of this away - it isn’t cold enough for you to wear things this heavy,” it glanced back at you as you reached out, pulling article after article out of your closet, “once the weather gets colder, then you can bring back... this. But for now, you need to dress to accentuate your figure, [y/n]. Stop hiding.” Over the next few minutes, your hands begun to move on their own as the SQUIP took control, tired of your slowness compared to its own movements. Soon enough, your closet was thinned out a fair amount. How many hoodies did you own? “Too many. We need to buy you more clothing.”

“You do realize I spent all my money on you, right?” You turned to your bed, the mountain of clothes sitting there. As you moved to take care of it, you watched your SQUIP process info once more.

“Thrift shops are an alternative.”

“I know, but have you considered...” You stopped folding one of your hoodies, looking back to the SQUIP, “I literally just spent all my money on you?”

“Save up.”

You stopped what you’d been doing. “What?”

“You receive a weekly allowance. Besides...” It paused, a small smirk playing at the corner of its lips, “if my calculations are correct, you may have work lined up for you right about-”

As if on cue, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. Your gaze didn’t leave your SQUIP’s form as you reached to pick it up, finding your aunt’s name scrawled across the screen. You answered, pulling the phone up to your ear only to have a request: babysitting, because somebody got into another fight and she can’t trust him to stay there alone - and then rattled off more information, talking about how Sarah has a ballet recital, and Katherine’s science project is due Monday, and in an attempt to break away from the phone call, you quickly informed her you’d be over whenever she needed you. Delighted, she gave you a time and thanked you a thousand times before saying she’d see you later.

Immediately, your focus was on your SQUIP. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“I see possible routes and events. This was just one of them, as, judging by your memories, there was a note about your cousin’s upcoming recital - and, knowing Thomas and Katherine would have their own reasons to not go, your aunts would call you to babysit.” You furrowed your brow, trying to process what it’d just told you before it finally let out a sigh. “Try not to think of it. I’ll take care of conjuring these things. All you need to do is listen.”

You hesitated to agree.

Babysitting your cousins earned you roughly fifty bucks - which was enough for you to dip into a thrift store and find a few things that your SQUIP approved of. Come Monday, you were sporting a pretty sweet jean jacket-hoodie combo and you’d found a pair of black jeans that fit rather nicely. It wasn’t much, but it was a difference from the you that hid themself as best as they could. You looked... different. You felt different, staring at yourself in the mirror, your Hylian shield pin gleaming in the light and reminding you of the battle you had over it with the SQUIP - it advocating against, and you for in an attempt to have some sort of familiarity - that you were surprised to have won. In exchange, your SQUIP directed you away from the cafeteria come lunch time.

“You’ll still have time to eat,” it clarified, “we just have some business to take care of first.”

“Okay,” you watched as it trailed in front of you, hands folded behind its back, shoulders squared and just oozing confidence you wish you had. “What business?”

It peered over it’s shoulder at you, before turning it’s attention back to where you were going. “We need to get you involved in the show. If you want to get close to Jeremy, you have to spend time with him first.”

“Wait - but it was already cast a few weeks ago, it’s not like I can-”

“There’s more to a play than acting, [y/n].” Your SQUIP faltered in it’s gait for a moment, “Perhaps it’s useful you’re an artist.”

The two of you neared Reyes’s classroom, chatter loud and clear. Mr.Reyes with his strong, clear voice - and then you could hear Christine Canigula, chipper as ever, and you couldn’t fight back a small smile at the mere passion she held for theatre. Standing out of sight, you gathered your confidence as best as you - it was only Mr.Reyes and Christine, after all. You could handle talking to them, finding a place for you to help out. This was going to be fine-

And then you heard him, The moment Jeremy’s voice rang out, you turned on your heel and ducked into a bathroom - your SQUIP rematerializing in front of you as you checked the stalls. Once you confirmed you were alone, you turned to face your SQUIP, its eyes pinned to you with utmost boredom.

“What the fuck!” You hissed, keeping your voice quiet and low. “I can’t go in there if Jeremy’s - did you know he was going to be here?”

“Stop speaking aloud.” It chided you, before pressing its lips together. “And... Yes. The probability was high, but this is good for us. Now Jeremy will see you’re serious about this - he’ll see that you’re passionate about art. And theatre, I suppose. Calm down,” it’s voice goes softer, “you’ll do fine. I’m here.”

You nodded slowly, turning and walking towards the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. With a sigh, you turned back to your SQUIP, fingers grazing the cold porcelain as you nodded. “Alright,” you finally said, “what’s the plan?”

It smiled. “As I said before - we need you to be involved in the show. Perhaps you could put those art skills of you to good use and paint scenery - or you could be running crew. Both gives you a good excuse to stay in the auditorium and near Jeremy.” It walked behind you, pressing a hand against your back, “straighten up. You need to be confident. You’ve got this.”

You turned, looking up at it. “And if I don’t?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

After a moment of hesitating, you finally nodded. What do you have to be afraid of? You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the classroom. Once more, you hesitated outside of the door, your SQUIP giving you a small nod as you finally knocked. When you stepped in, Jeremy’s eyes widened.

“[y/n]?” He said, brows furrowed as you walked closer into the room.

You uttered some sort of greeting, Mr.Reyes making some quip about not having any money for cookies as you grew nearer. You forced a laugh.

Your SQUIP’s laid a hand on your shoulder. “Ask.”

So you did. “I was wondering if there’s anything I could do for the play?” You fought to keep your voice steady, anxiety already biting at you. Your hands slowly drifted towards one another, only for a small shock to tear your fingers apart before your habit could bubble up.

“...Really?” Mr.Reyes said, watching you - as if this was some weird prank. Maybe drama wasn’t nearly as popular here as you thought, considering what you’d heard about the cast....

With a nod, you spoke again, “I haven’t really been into theatre for long-”

“But you’ve always wanted to try.” Your SQUIP said, and you nearly nodded except for the thought of how weird that would make you look. Gently, it’s hand landed on your shoulder. “Calm down. I’m right here.”

“I’ve always wanted to try, though. And I thought that maybe-”

“You’d start with crew and audition for the spring show.”

“-I’d, uh, start with backstage stuff and, uh, audition for the spring show?” You tried to make your words flow together effortlessly, as if you weren’t being fed lines - and, somehow, they bought it.

Mr.Reyes nodded slowly, before looking over to Christine and smiling as he turned back to you and launched into an oddly dramatic speech about the importance of a production team, and how - if you’re interested - there’s a few zombies that they’ll need stage makeup for. But his words began to fall into meaningless dribble behind you as you caught a glimpse of your SQUIP trailing around to where Jeremy sat, giving him a slow once over. And slowly, it’s gaze turned to Christine, lips pressed into a thin line. Part of you was terrified of whatever it was thinking, about what judgement it was passing on Jeremy... the other was merely curious. Perhaps it had a better idea about-

“As soon as you’ll need me,” the words were out of your mouth before you could even process what happened. The blend of your voice alongside your SQUIP’s as it spoke for you, and then the soft whisper of a “you’re welcome” was enough to give you goosebumps. But then Jeremy smiled at you, and everything that felt wrong melted away in an instant.

After school, you’d typically be driving to the mall or driving home to sit around and either play video games or draw until your homework became too pressing. But this time you shoved your books into your bag and walked from your last class to the auditorium at the request of Mr.Reyes - who wanted you to watch rehearsal and get a feel for the show. When you nearly asked if that could wait until tomorrow, your SQUIP chastised you immediately - this was a chance to get close to Jeremy. So you smiled and agreed, shooting a quick text to your parents so they wouldn’t worry if rehearsal ran late, and hesitated outside of the doors for a moment. Gathering your courage, you pulled the door open to find the room completely empty as you walked down towards the front row, slinging your bag into a chair and sitting in wait for anyone to show up. Part of you hoped it’d be Rich first, because then at least it’d be a friendly face - and you could maybe ask some questions if you had them, considering he knew more about SQUIPs than you did.

Your SQUIP materialized in front of you, arms folded across it’s chest. “Jeremy will be arriving soon. You have approximately four minutes and twenty seconds alone with him.” When you snorted, it merely glared before looking past you.

“Sorry.” Then you felt a shock travel to your fingers, tearing them away from one another as you looked up. “What the fuck-”

“You were picking at your nails again. You need to stop.” It sighed as it looked back to you, “we need to make the most of this time alone. It is imperative you make a good impression.” It trailed past you, aimlessly wandering back and forth as you stopped paying attention for a moment.

The sound of the doors opening with a screech caught your attention, the loud whine making you turn to see Jeremy hesitating for a moment upon seeing that the room wasn’t empty. But the moment you laid eyes on him, he continued down, fingers curled tightly around the straps of his bag. Ever so slightly, he relaxed as he drew nearer to you.

“Hey,” you called out with a smile, “how are you?”

He was caught off-guard for a moment. “Fine. Why are you here?” He stopped near you, swinging his backpack into a seat and unzipping it.

“Reyes asked-”

“No, I know that - I just- I mean- why are you here?” He paused for a moment, fishing around in his bag, before tacking on “I thought you weren’t into theatre.”

Shit. “I, uh-”

“It’s a recent interest. You’re exploring your options.”

You swallowed your panic. “It’s, uh, a recent thing. I, uh, wanted to maybe try something new...”

Jeremy looked over at you, still suspicious, before he looked back to his bag. Shit. “Okaaaaay,” he said, obviously not entirely convinced by your answer. He paused, finally finding what he was looking for as he pulled out a thick script with pages tabbed with different colors, and then he looked back at you. “Shit, sorry, I just- I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“No, it’s - it’s fine, Jeremy,” you insisted. The SQUIP phased through him, side-stepping and nodding towards his script. You continued on, “So, uh, who are you?”

For a moment he stood there, just staring at you with furrowed brow and utter confusion written on his face before he finally glanced down to what he was holding. “Oh! Uh, Lysander.”

“That’s great!” You chirped, trying to play it off as if you knew who that was.

“Ask him if he needs help with lines.”

“So, uh, Jeremy,” you started, “if you ever need help running lines - I’m, uh, I’m here.”

“I’m fine.” He said, “I’m sorry, I just - you never mentioned being into this stuff before, so...”

“I mean - it’s been a while...” You trailed off. Uncertainty began to leak in as the conversation died down, and then before you could process what was happening, you were speaking. “I’m really excited to see you perform, Jeremy. I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

His cheeks grew pink as he fumbled with the script slightly, looking away from you in some attempt to compose himself. “Oh. Uh. Thanks, I guess. But you should really see Christine,” he began to smile, face red, “I mean - she’s the real star, y’know?” He looked back at you, completely starry-eyed. “Have you seen her act?” Fuck. “She’s just - she’s amazing, [y/n]...”

The door screeching open was your cue to bolt out of your seat, coming up with some excuse as you tore past Brooke and Jenna and down the hall. Your breath caught in your chest, as you turned a corner and pressed your back against the lockers as panic filled your every thought. Your SQUIP materialized in front of you once more, watching as your breath grew quick and tears began to stream down your face. Fuck, you should have known Jeremy would still be in love with her - but you didn’t think he’d forget you were with him the first time he saw her perform. It had been you and him and Michael. Just as it always was. And now, when you need someone, your SQUIP stood idly by, staring down at the ground with furrowed brow and jaw clenched, arms folded tightly over it’s chest. You focused on slowing your breathing, trying to calm down for a moment - just a moment to resurface yourself back to reality.

You finally looked back at your SQUIP, growing frustrated. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m processing.” It merely stated, “are you certain you want to keep pursuing Jeremy? There are other students at this school who don’t harbor feelings for Christine Canigula. Jake Dillinger, from my calculations - or that boy in broadcasting, Link. He’s also attractive. Brooke Lohst is also attractive and would be more than willing to-”

“No!” You snapped, before calming down. “Are you - you’re saying this is hopeless, isn’t it?”

Your SQUIP pinched the bridge of it’s nose, growing more frustrated and leaving you to grow more anxious. “No. I’m saying pursuing Jeremy will be difficult considering we have to account for his feelings for Christine. We just have to show him that you would be a much better match for him,” your SQUIP said, staring at you.

“But how-”

The moment you heard footsteps echoing from around the corner, your SQUIP looked back at you - and, for a split second, you thought you saw a smirk. “Tear ducts, activate.”

That was the moment everything in your world started to tumble down.

#mj's writing corner #bmc imagine #bmc reader insert #bmc x reader #be more chill imagine #be more chill reader insert #be more chill x reader #jeremy heere #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

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doodlepanda101 · 5 years

Text

Michael in the Music room

“I wanna dance with somebody!” Michael sang whole heartedly, snapping his fingers, and bopping his head to the loud beat in his headphones. He even went as far as to bounce from side to side with the rhythm. “I wanna feel the heat with somebody!” He continued, a wide smile on his cheeks, eyes closed, offering a bright picture of joy to anyone who happened to be standing in the doorway of the music room that Michael had originally thought was empty, but some lucky soul had opened the door just in time to see the excited dance that, normally, was a dance that was kept between his headphones and his locked bedroom doors, the very vision of ‘dance like no one is watching.’ Right now, Michael was warm, everything about him radiated warmth and comfort, he was naturally a light source. Warm brown eyes seemed to shine in the short, rare moments where the notes would rise in his headphones and they’d pop open as his arms rose up into the air, fist pumping in rhythm with the beat and his continuous bouncing. His energy seemed to fill the room and carry into the person watching, absolutely infectious in the best way possible, and for a moment it made the person at the doorway wonder how Michael hadn’t gotten popular yet. He had enough confidence and energy to top Jake Dillinger, and the person at the door knew he had just as much charisma as Brooke and Chloe. What popular crowd wouldn’t want this ray of energy walking along side them in the halls? It wasn’t because Michael was bad looking, anyone who glanced at him knew that just wasn’t the case, even if he wasn’t as athletic as Rich. When the person really thought about it, the only thing keeping Michael from popularity was probably his anti-social nature. They knew why Jeremy hadn’t gotten popular yet, he never put himself out there, he wasn’t charismatic, he wasn’t confident, even if he was a nice guy and decent enough friend. They sighed, knowing full and well that Michael hadn’t felt the need to be cool in a hot minute since he had Jeremy which.. was really sweet. He was loyal too. The person snapped back on track, right, she had to get what she came for. She rose the phone camera up and started recording Michael as he danced and singed around the music room, leaving her somehow unnoticed in the doorway, only stopping the recording when she felt like she had enough.. “Jenna?” Michael muttered in horror, blinking at her, seemingly froze mid-spin. She smiled from behind the camera, stopping the recording and lowering it. “Hey Mikey, don’t worry, this isn’t going anywhere it shouldn’t be. You’re good at singing by the way, I can see why he wanted a video of you while you were at it.” She hummed, turning to start and walking away. “Wait! I- wha- Jenna! Who-” Michael stuttered after her, face completely red. Jenna didn’t stop, she just turned, winked at him, and closed the door behind her. Rich definitely owed her for this, but the look on Michael’s face was almost worth it. Almost.

#a drabble?? from me?? more likely than you might think #fanfiction #fanfic #mine #oof #be more chill #bmc #musicals #platonic jenna and michael #michael mell #jenna rollen #??thats how you spell that right??#idk #uhh #expensive headphones #if you squint #i wanna dance with somebody #sorry for any grammer problems

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platonic-with-mothman · 5 years

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Good Nights Rest

aaaand heres the complete opposite from my last story I posted! hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Jake can’t sleep when its cold, rich has an idea that could help him.

Warnings: Swearing, Vore, needles.

It was a well known fact that Jake Dillinger absolutely HATED the cold. He couldn’t stand it being below 50 degrees Fahrenheit. So when the weather began getting colder, he couldn’t even function. His sleeping pattern was the worst.

Usually, Jake was very good with getting a good sleep schedule, even when he went to massive parties. But as soon as winter hits, it all goes out the window. He just can’t sleep when its too cold. His friends try to help, get him weighted blankets, heated blankets, but nothing worked, he even tried sleeping pills for a bit, but they didn’t work either.

He sat in the main area of his dorm room, typing away at his computer, trying to catch up on his studying. Jake was wearing a blanket, a hoodie, a shirt underneath, and sweatpants, yet he was still cold. He looked at the time, 1:48 am, he sighed, knowing that it was no use to even try to sleep. He moved away from the computer, planning on getting a glass of water, unfortunately, he had miscalculated where the glass was, and knocked it right off the table, smashing all on the floor

“Aw shit” he let out an annoyed sigh, moving quickly to clean the glass shards up. As he was trying not to cut himself, he heard a door open. Rich, his best friend and roommate, wander over to jake, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Be careful, I broke” Jake paused, yawning a little bit. “I Broke a glass.” he shook his head, picking up the tinier pieces. God he hated how his body messed with him like this, even though he felt tired, he could never sleep.

“Look man, I love being your roommate” Rich laughed, his voice still groggy “but i hate seeing you up this late. You gotta at least try”

“Its not my fault dude! I can’t sleep “ he set the glass shards back on the table. “You know what it does to me” he points to the window, where outside, it was snowing hard. Rich walked over, seeing the amount of snow and ice on the ground, they’d have to close the roads tomorrow.

Then it was like a light bulb went off in rich’s head. He turned back to Jake, who was back at his computer, typing away once again. Rich looked away, putting a hand on his stomach, was he even sure about asking? What would Rich even say?

Jake seemed to notice Rich staring into space “you good dude?” Rich snapped out of his thoughts, laughing awkwardly and nodding, jake pressed on “are you sure?”

“Uh yeah” rich slowly walked to the couch were jake was. “Can I ask you something weird?”

jake stopped typing, and turned to rich “Sure…?”

“There's this… thing I can do, it might help you get to sleep.” rich began to turn a light shade of red.

“Rich i swear to god if you say we should huddle like penguins one more ti--”

“Jake!” rich laughed, embarrassed. “First of all, I was drunk. Second, you were eager to try it so you have no argument.” jake laughed, leaning back on the couch.

“Fine, proceed.”

Rich, stopped laughing for a bit, trying to find the right words “anyways uh…” he groaned, tired of his own awkwardness “I can Eat you of you want me to.”

Jake snapped his head to stare at rich in shock, and he instantly regretted how he phrased what he said. Jake stared for a few moments, but for rich, it felt like an hour.

“You're a predator?”

“...Yeah”

Jakes shocked look swiftly changed a smile “ and you’d do that for me?” Jake smiled sweetly, he had always wanted to ask rich to do that, but how could he? That’s be… weird!

rich, who was looking down, snapped his head up, surprised at jakes words “uh...yeah? Why would I suggest it if I wouldn’t?” Jake rolled his eyes, laughing slightly.

“So uh… how will we do this?” jake asked, looking rich up and down, “I know some predators who just eat people, but…” jake stood up, showing the height difference between them, Jake being 6’4” and Rich being 5’4”. “I don't think that’d be possible”

Rich laughed, “give me a sec.” he walked passed jake, back to his room, then quickly walked back to the main room with a small box.

“This..” he pauses, opening the box, revealing a syringe with a purple tinted liquid “is a shrinking liquid. it ‘ll shrink you down a bit so it’ll be easier for both of us.” he turns back to Jake “unless you… want to stay normal sized?”

“N-no! No way man.” jake answered, maybe a bit to quickly “this already sounds impossible, don't want to add more to that.”

“I was kidding, you really think i could fit you in here?” Rich laughed, patting his stomach “no way!”

“Okay okay!” jake said, blushing a bit at how confident rich was with this. He had never expected him to be so eager, and to have shrinking liquid with him already! Was he planning this before? “Just get on with it.”

Rich suddenly got a bit more serious, there was still a glint of eagerness in his eye though. He motioned for jake to sit down, picking up the syringe, “warning...you're gonna feel dizzy after i put this in. “ jake nodded, and took off his hoodie, and pulling up his shirt sleeve, revealing his skin, he shivered a bit at the chill air, suddenly a bit more eager for Rich to shrink him.

Jake winced as the needle went on his arm, but as rich had said, he began feeling really dizzy, he felt rich steady him a bit, but it was pretty much all a blur for him. He could slightly feel rich’s hand getting bigger, but he couldn’t focus on it. It was like the time he had attempted to drink a whole keg of beer, keyword, attempted

Once his head stopped spinning and he could look around, he tilted his head up to see rich, only he was HUGE! Jake stumbled back a bit, shocked at how giant rich was. He knew what was going to happen, but he didn’t expect to be THIS small!

Rich once again steadied jake, making sure he wouldn’t fall. Jake shivered. He didn’t think shrinking down would make him even colder, but here he was! Tiny and freezing, he leaned into rich's palm feeling his body heat warm him up a bit. The two stared at each other for a bit, rich making sure jake was okay, and jake just in complete shock.

When jake finally got his bearings, he spoke “are we going to stare at each other all night or get this over with?”

Rich jokingly rolled his eyes, scooping up jake “if we must.” he laughed softly, with jake joining in. Rich then opened his mouth bringing jake inside, his tongue curling around his tiny roommate.

At first, jake cringed at the feeling of being licked, but after being pulled into Rich’s mouth, feeling how warm it was, it didn’t bother him. Rich began rolling him around, coating jake with saliva, but also obviously tasting him. Jake, knowing this, began pushing away and fighting with rich, who then promptly pinned him to the roof of his mouth. Jake wiggled and struggled to get out of this hold, only then to be gulped down without warning.

He tried grabbing a hold of the tongue, not wanting to lose against Rich, but it was no use, the muscles were already working on him. He was kneaded down Rich’s throat, hearing his heartbeat pass loud and clear, only to hear soft gurgles below getting louder, it was strange to listen to these, but also calming.

He soon entered rich’s stomach, which was more roomy than imagined in the first place. It wasn't like a mansion, but he could actually move around and explore a bit. He pressed on one of the stomach walls, only to feel Rich tense up a bit.

“That was my spine” Rich laughed, jake turned a bit red.

“Sorry dude!”

“Don’t worry about it” Rich answered, burping right after, not even caring that he did, “if you being in there costs one push on my spinal cord, its worth it.”

Jake laughed, but his laughter was then cut off by yawning one again, but this time, he actually felt like he could sleep! He laid down, curling up a bit. Calling up to rich “i think i might actually sleep tonight.”

“You better, cause you’re not keeping me up tonight. If you do I’ll digest ya” jake would’ve been scared, if rich hadn’t said it in such a ridiculous tone, like a villain from ‘60’s live action batman series.

Jake just answered in a hum, closing his eyes, he could definitely get used to this.

----------

and there we have it! one out of our few stories requested! standby for more coming this week!

#be vore chill #soft vore #safe vore #platonic vore #g/t vore #pred! rich #prey! Jake

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cleverbroadwayurl · 6 years

Text

In My Blood (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 13)

Song: In My Blood by Shawn Mendes

Word Count: 3011

Need to Catch Up? PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12

Want More? PART 14 PART 15 PART 16 PART 17 PART 18 PART 19

A/N: OH MY GOD I DID IT I’M POSTING ON TIME!!!! Yay!!! Also I highkey think the song captures the aesthetic and feeling very well so don’t judge me sometimes I listen to the radio. I’m so excited to have people read this part, and I tried my best to stay factual. I think 2 weeks is a perfect time period for me, so I think I’ll stick with that for now! Special thanks to @catatonic-kuragin for helping me get this part on its feet because oh my god I was kinda struggling before. BUT IT’S HERE NOW!! HOORAY!

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive boyfriend, mentions of eating disorders, angry Jeremy, mentions of sexual assault IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW ASAP

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @catatonic-kuragin @bluhimaweirdo

“I’ll see you later Jeremy,” you smiled before grabbing your stuff and walking out of the Heere household, his sweater still on your shoulders. Jeremy smiled to himself as he pulled out his phone to text Michael. A single text was sent before he began to clear the evidence that you’d even been there at all.

Jeremy wasn’t sure how he and Michael had ended up at Red Robin. The two sat near the door on one side of the small barrier that separated two rows of booths, and Jeremy really only noticed that he’d ended up sitting in this one booth after the waitress left to go and put in their food orders. He dismissed any reasoning his brain could come up with on how exactly ended up there.

It had been about two weeks since Jeremy had last heard from you. He and Michael had caught up since then, the slushie enthusiast now almost completely up to date on your situation. Jeremy’s finger traced the edge of his water glass, recalling exactly how that conversation went and the ones that followed about you. Because while the initial catching up was very long, other mentions after that were mere seconds, Michael just asking if Jeremy had heard from you at all. Lots of times, these conversations happened at the Mell residence, which really wasn’t planned at first.

It started with Michael talking to his best friend in this open while Mrs. and Mrs. Mell were out grocery shopping. They had sat at the kitchen table, Jeremy playing with the edge of the table as he told his best friend what he could without violating your trust. He explained to Michael what had happened at his house: you’d spent the night, made breakfast together, among other things. Just as Jeremy was getting into details about why you’d shown up at such short notice, the Mell mothers came home. They set down the paper bags on the counter and kissed Michael on his head before asking if the two boys could help them put the groceries away.

“Actually,” Michael had said, “we were just about to talk about something upstairs.” One of Michael’s moms gave him a small look of disapproving before his best friend could even start rattling off information so that they could talk alone. But Jeremy knew that Michael could not keep a secret from his moms. Jeremy had spoken instead.

“We were just talking about this person we know. We’re kinda brainstorming on the best ways to support them, and since it’s not really our situation to tell. I wouldn’t want to betray them or anything.”

The two moms shared a look before turning their focus back to the boys. “Maybe we can help,” one of them spoke up as the two teenagers began to get up and help. The four stood at the island, one by one turning away to finish the task at hand.

“They’re just kinda in a bad situation,” Jeremy had said, putting away the bread before walking back to the island.

The rest of the conversation was a blur, except for one particular moment. Jeremy could remember the look on one of Michael’s mom’s face, almost fear stricken as he had uttered “Consent is necessary, for them it’s treated like a luxury.” He could remember the rigidity in her actions, the sudden freeze; it was something he’d seen on you. And then she had spoken up.

“Jeremy, Michael, please let your friend know that they’re always welcome here. Our couch is always open. You just say the word or text either of us. We’re here to help.”

“That’s what I told Jeremy, Mom. I thought you’d be okay with it.”

“Absolutely, Micha. I’m happy to be a safe haven for people who need help.”

With that, the group had gone back to putting groceries away, but Jeremy couldn’t get that look out of his head. She knew. Michael’s mom knew about your situation, even if Jeremy didn’t even explicitly say it. So the boys now had small conversations about you with Michael’s moms. They asked about you in passing, not even knowing your name. While it was scary to tell them initially, Jeremy was relieved that he had more people on his side—on your side.

His eyes flicked up from the Red Robin table and back to his best friend, who was currently looking something up on his phone. Fuck, was he grateful for Michael and the rest of the Mells. Jeremy couldn’t even imagine what this situation would be like if he didn’t have friends supporting him and his every attempt at keeping you safe and happy.

“So,” the boy that sat across the table started, “I’m thinking we bring Mario Kart, Breath of the Wild, Splatoon, and of course the debut game to college with us. What do you think?”

“Yeah dude. Sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a little bit longer, Jeremy pushing the home button on his phone to check and see what notifications he got. A snapchat from Brooke, another from Chloe, and some kind of notification from Spotify, telling him that Michael had created a new playlist a few hours ago. He then observed the area around him, noticing the lack of people in the restaurant. Usually, the place was pretty packed on any given summer night, especially with some broke going to college students needing a place to go to give their friends a good send off into the world. He took a sip of his water, glancing around at the things going on around him, smiling slightly at the hostess talking, or maybe even flirting, with one of the other waiters.

“Anyways,” Michael continued after a second, and pulling Jeremy’s attention away. “We gotta do something with the entire SQUIP Squad before Jake leaves, since he’s going before the rest of us. I was thinking we should make a group chat about it.”

As soon as Michael said that, the girls all sent individual snapchats to both of the boys. Jeremy had to chuckle at his best friend’s idea. “That’s like 10 people, Michael. I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s crazy enough with all of the snapchat streaks.”

“Yeah, but think of the memes.”

“Okay, you’ve got a point,” Jeremy laughed. Michael returned the gesture before he continued to talk about what he was thinking about doing for the Dillinger boy.

But the lanky boy couldn’t concentrate on his best friends or the plans he had. Jeremy liked his friends, he really did, and he did want them to have a good send off, but he couldn’t focus on that at the moment. Could anyone really blame him, though? How could he focus when you stood in the entry way, your boyfriend’s arm wrapped tightly around you, a glare appearing as you broke away to talk the hostess. You nodded before reunited with your asshole of a boyfriend.

He took note of everything as you stood, noticing the changes that had been made since the last time he’d seen you. You returned to something Jeremy had seen before, but this time more subtle. Your arms didn’t cross in front of you, but your shoulders did collapse as your face remained paler than usual. He noticed your eyes fixating on a certain spot on the wall as you inhaled sharply before exhaling slowly. Your eyes fluttered closed, trying to calm yourself down. Jeremy could practically feel you shaking against his skin, even though you stood many feet away. It was as if something had already happened; your boyfriend had already frightened you that night. His eyes lingered as you followed the hostess around the barrier, your boyfriend trailing behind, the same grimace remaining on his face. You two were placed at the end of the row of booths, as in, just out of earshot of Jeremy.

The protective boy tensed involuntarily. Fuck, this was bad. His breath sharpened, yeah, something had definitely happened before you two had even gotten to the restaurant itself. His fingers dug into his jeans. Then it stopped. If it was apparent that Jeremy was mad, that was it. Yours and his cover would be blown. Maybe it was for the best that he couldn’t hear the conversation you were about to have.

“Hi, I’m Jeremy and I have the biggest fucking crush on (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Michael teased quietly, nudging his friend with his foot underneath the table.

“Shut up, dude! He could hear!” There was a new explosion of pink on Jeremy’s face. He pulled down his sweatshirt’s sleeve before resting his elbow of the table. The blushy boy looked down at the table and rested his cheek against his hand.

“Just teasing, Jer.” Michael noted, smirking at his best friend. “They can’t hear us anyways.”

“Yeah,” the other boy muttered as finger messed with the booth’s faux leather seats. The waitress returned and put the food in front of both boys, her demeanor working in opposition with Jeremy’s. She smiled a very practiced smile before saying ‘enjoy’ and practically bouncing away.

Jeremy couldn’t resist watching her glide over to your table. Okay, it was the same waitress, which means that you’d be here longer than the two teenage boys. But Jeremy didn’t know if he wanted to leave before you. He was practically your support system and Michael worked as backup. If something happened, or at the very least, if you took a small glance around as you left or walked to the bathroom, you’d see two vessels of support sitting and offering what they could give to you. Plus, if things got out of hand, the two could easily keep you safe and give you boyfriend hell, seeing as there was two of them and one of him.

The lanky boy hesitated eating, staring at his best friend.

“You good, Jer?” he asked, fry in hand.

“Yeah, I just—the fries might be too hot.”

“Liar,” Michael inquired. “You’re worried.”

“What? Well, I mean—”

“They’re in public, it’s fine,” he promised, waving the same fry around before eating it.

There was a silence that surrounded them, but it was broken by your own voice ringing out. Jeremy couldn’t make out what you were saying, but he could tell that it wasn’t your usual tone of voice. Oh no, this was you being overly nice, trying your hardest to be overly polite when the person around you didn’t deserve it. Michael stiffened just seconds later.

“You know what, Jer?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re right, the fries are very hot. Let’s take our time eating.” His face contorted into a miserable look that Jeremy hadn’t seen since the SQUIP incident. There was a beat of quiet before Michael lowered his voice. “If I left after hearing what I just heard (Y/N) say, my moms would kill me for not staying and making sure that they’re safe.”

Jeremy paled. What could you have said? It had to be something intense for his best friend to do a complete 180 about his decision. And in an instant, the lanky boy didn’t need to know what you’d said exactly. There was a look in Michael’s eyes that was more than words could ever explain. He could practically hear exactly what you’d said through Michael in this moment alone. And it was decided. The two would stay to make sure that you were at the very least safe while you were here.

Another second passed, and silence fell again. The two assumed that things were at the very least okay on the other side of the barrier. They began to eat again, quieter than before.

“Anyways, should we bring the bean bags for the dorm?” Michael asked quieter than before.

“Will they fit?” Jeremy asked his best friend before taking another sip of water.

“You’ve got a point.”

The waitress returned with a singular plate of food in her hand. A quick check of the two teenagers and she was off, walking directly to your table and putting it down in front of one of you. It must’ve been your boyfriend. Jeremy shuddered at that. He could remember in the diner when his eyes had glazed over the words “eating disorder”. Was it suddenly back and, fuck, was that what you were fighting about before? Jeremy hoped, no Jeremy begged that it wasn’t that; anything but that.

“I think I know what you’re thinking.” Michael noted before eating another fry. “But they said they’d already eaten with their family and just wanted ice cream when they ordered.”

“You actually heard that?”

“Yeah. You know, when they use their customer service voice, they get very loud.”

Damn it. Nothing had gotten better with you. Jeremy knew that, of course he did, but he secretly hoped that at the very least things had gotten even just slightly better. It had only been two weeks, but he knew that if you were reverting to your old habits, things could’ve only gotten worse. When he had been reading about abusive relationships, Jeremy learned that it was a cycle, not really a constant. He hoped that this was an upswing, but apparently that was just wishful thinking.

The waitress came back once more to clear plates before asking about desert. “I think we’re good,” Michael said as Jeremy almost kicked his best friend. She nodded before walking back to your table.

“What the fuck? We’re staying late, remember?”

“We are, but they’re leaving soon. We can just take forever to pay and give a really good tip.”

Jeremy was quiet for a second. “Okay,” he said finally.

“I gotta be honest, Jer.” The lanky boy met eyes with his best friend. “He has been talking about himself the entire time we’ve been eating.”

While he was glad that Michael was honest with him, the comment made Jeremy unsettled. Relationships are supposed to be equal, where each of you bring each other up, not completely snuff the other person. They were supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be better for you. They were supposed to be consensual, easy, and fun, with the dark parts only there some of the time. Jeremy wished he could just walk over there and drop kick your boyfriend into the Atlantic before sitting down across from you, smiling warmly before he would take you back to Michael’s place (he was sure Mrs. and Mrs. Mell would love to meet you) where you two would crash after hours of playing video games. But there was no way that Jeremy would be able to do that, and even attempting it could end worse than he could ever imagine.

By the time Jeremy had finished his train of thought, the two of you stood up and you boyfriend almost immediately made eye contact with Jeremy. The boy quickly looked away, the table all of the sudden becoming very interesting. Michael chose to make direct eye contact with your boyfriend, almost seeming to activate protective mode. From across the table, he could feel his best friend tense without even needing to look up. Jeremy was glad that his best friend was so wordlessly by his side, that he was fully capable of keeping a cool head but definitely giving off intimidating vibes. And he knew that if things did go south, Michael would absolutely help him get you to safety.

“Hey! I didn’t see you guys when we walked in!” your boyfriend spoke, his hand still placed firmly on your hip as discomfort pooled into you from that point of contact.

“Yeah! We didn’t see you either!” Michael smiled back, his mood seemingly bright, but Jeremy could sense that underneath that brightness, an almost violent demeanor slept soundly, just waiting to be awakened.

Your boyfriend spared a glance at a very nervous Jeremy before turning back to Michael. “Have you tried Doomfist yet in Overwatch?”

“Actually no! I don’t usually play the new updates as soon as they happen, I kinda just wait until they fix the glitches and make the statistics fair, you know?”

“I respect that, but you should definitely play as him while he’s OP. It’s so intense, you’re guaranteed to win.”

As the two kept talking, Jeremy snuck a glance at you. Your eyelids fluttered for a second before you locked eyes with the lanky boy. For a second, the curse was lifted as you looked into the window of happiness. You lit up, a small smile painting itself onto your face. Jeremy blushed and you mirrored, pink flowering throughout your face and neck. You looked away fast as a way to prevent your boyfriend from getting suspicious. The blush disappeared and you tangled yourself up with unhappiness once again. You nodded at something Jeremy didn’t quite hear from you boyfriend, but Michael spoke up. The sweet boy didn’t hear what his best friend said, as your eyes traced their way back to Jeremy himself. It wasn’t a full on look, as both of you knew that an action that was so pronounced would be dangerous. That didn’t mean that Jeremy didn’t catch the shining in your eyes as you gazed at him. His heart did cartwheels. Suppressing a smile, Jeremy cleared his throat. All attention was towards him for a millisecond and your eyes left his. The boy opened his mouth to ask what your plans were for the rest of the night, but your boyfriend spoke for him.

“We should get going, huh, babe? It was good seeing you guys!” he said while smiling at Michael and Jeremy noticed that it was only directed at Michael. Your boyfriend’s stare lingered on him and Jeremy could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. His fists clenched as your boyfriend’s jaw did the same. Your boyfriend turned around and gripped your hip tighter before leaving out the door, a guarded smile on his face. Jeez, your boyfriend practically hung off of you, no wonder you’d been isolated so badly.

It was in that moment that Jeremy decided that getting angry and giving your boyfriend an ass kicking shouldn’t be on the agenda, but your well being should be. He whipped out his phone and quickly found your contact. Smiling to himself as Michael watched, a single text was sent to you:

Jeremy: Hope you have a great night! Let me know if you need anything 😊

#jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill imagine #be more chill x reader

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

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Light Up My World

Pairing: Jake Dillinger x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “I am delighted that you know BMC!! Can I request a one shot of Jakey D with an s/l that’s not the most liked in the school, if that’s okay with you!”

A/N: Y’all don’t understand how excited I get when someone knows Be More Chill, let alone when someone requests it. So the fact that I have two requests for Jake in my inbox?? I’m LIVING for it. (Now if only someone will give me an excuse to write for Michael or Rich lol) Thank you to the requester!

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The first time Jake saw you it was at the first rehearsal for the play. You had been sitting in the circle with the rest of the actors, but you never actually read any lines. You were just sitting there with a copy of the script balanced on your lap as you scribbled notes in the margins of the pages.

He had been planning on coming over to talk to you once rehearsal was over, but as soon as Mr. Reyes dismissed the cast, you were shoving your script in your bag and the auditorium doors were slamming closed behind you.

It had taken Jake a second to push aside his disappointment and reassume his typically bright grin as his friends flocked around him, clamoring for his attention.

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The brunet tried to intercept you a few more times, but to no avail. Whenever he was finally about to talk to you, he’d be interrupted. Either you’d be busy and disappear or his friends would ambush him, and you’d be gone by time he managed to free himself.

You were always at rehearsals, at least, which gave Jake ample time to try and think of what to say to you when he actually did talk to you. He wondered whether asking you out the first time you spoke would be too fast or if it would be weird of him to tell you he thought it was cute the way you bit your lip when you were thinking or that he really liked that band tee you wore that one time, not necessarily that he liked the band, but that he really liked the way it stretched tight across your shoulders and chest. He was dying to be able to talk to you, but it was definitely much harder to ask out a guy than a girl.

But Jake was determined. One way or another, he’d find a way to ask you out.

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When Jake finally found the time to approach you, it was during his free period one day. He had told Mr. Reyes that he could stop in and help the tech students for a while before he had to go to his Model UN meeting.

When he wandered into the Drama classroom, the first thing he saw was you standing at the front of a group of six or seven other students with a clipboard, seemingly delegating tasks. He joined the group, standing near the back.

“Alright, everyone knows what needs done today,” you said, not even bothering to look up from your clipboard. “Let’s get it done.” With that, the group dissipated, people branching off to do what you’d asked them to, muttering amongst themselves.

Jake stepped up as you turned toward the door. “Hey,” he called after you, grinning sheepishly when you finally looked up at him. “I came in a little late. What do you want me to help with?”

You looked him up and down for a moment before sighing, “Normally, I’d make you help moving set pieces since you’ve clearly got the physique for it.” Jake knew he had an impressive set of muscles, but the way you said it made him feel less like the king of Middleborough High and more like he’d been appraised like a piece of meat taken to the butcher. “But since they’re being painted right now, I guess you can come help me with lighting.” As soon as you finished speaking, you turned on your heel and headed out of the room, leading the way to the Auditorium.

The brunet nodded brightly, determined not to let your dismissal get to him. “Okay, I can do that! You might have to give me some more specific instructions though,” he couldn’t help the wide grin that took over his features as he trailed after you.

You shrugged, pulling a ring of keys from your pocket as you came to a stop outside the Auditorium doors and unlocking them. You held the door open for Jake before entering yourself, second-naturedly stepping around the end of a row of chairs and heading for the door to a small room at the back of the theater so you could flip on the work lights.

“You have keys to the Auditorium?” Jake called after you, hesitant to follow you until the lights had come on. Once he could actually see, he trailed after you, pausing at the doorframe.

“Of course,” you muttered, grabbing a few tools and shoving them into your pockets before pushing past Jake and heading for the stage. “I’m the Stage Manager. I have to be able to get in to make sure shit gets done and Mr. Reyes isn’t always on campus when the class needs to work on sets and tech.”

Jake nodded a little, standing on stage as he watched you make your way over to one of the thick ropes lining the wall and use the pulley to lower one of the bars of rigging until it would be within reach. You then made your way back over, gesturing for Jake to come join you so you could show him how to slip a gel over the end of the spot so the lighting would be a different color when turned on.

You were explaining which lights needed to be which colors when Jake slipped up. “Would this be a bad time to tell you that you light up my world?” The look on your face was enough to convince Jake that he’d messed up and he was about to apologize when you cut him off.

“Did you just try to flirt with me using a One Direction reference?” You rolled your eyes, ducking under the bar so you could work on a spotlight with a burnt-out bulb, “Does that actually work on the girls you hit on?”

Jake winced, knowing you probably only saw him as a playboy, “Honestly, I don’t really flirt much. Just with people I really like.”

You bit out a laugh, keeping your eyes on the bulb you were replacing, “Then I assume you were just joking.”

“Why would I have been joking?”

You looked at him like it should have been obvious, “Nobody likes me, Jake.” You didn’t seem upset by the idea, just kind of… resigned. As Jake watched, you shrugged it off and turned back to the spot, turning a few bolts to secure it and slipping a colored gel over the lens.

“That can’t be true.” Jake was confused. Sure, while he hadn’t exactly seen you talking to anyone during rehearsals and you were quick to leave when they were done, he was sure you had your own circle of friends outside of the drama department.

“And why’s that?” You retorted, rolling your eyes again as you moved onto the next light. “You ever seen me at one of your ‘killer’ parties? Ever seen me hanging out with anyone?” You let out a derisive snort, “Didn’t think so.”

Jake hesitated, knowing that he was about to make himself more vulnerable than he’d ever been. He forced himself to move, standing in front of you so you had to pay attention to him. “Because I like you. A hell of a lot, actually.”

You blinked up at him, clearly shocked by his admission. “You need to raise your standards then.” Your eyes dropped back to the lights in front of you.

“Fine, I’ll prove it.” Jake was quick to duck under the bar to join you on your side, gently pulling the gel from your hands and setting it aside. He took your face in his hands gently, like he was afraid you’d break, and leaned in to kiss you.

It was just the barest press of lips, hardly even a whisper of a kiss, but Jake was still thrilled when it was over, especially when he noticed the bright flush on your cheeks.

“See?” He grinned at you, “I meant it when I said you light up my world.”

You groaned, shoving him lightly, though you were still grinning a little. “If I agree to go out with you, will you stop quoting boy bands at me?”

Jake paused like he was thinking about it before letting out a thoughtful hum, slipping his arms around your midsection as you tried to get back to work. “Fine, no more One Direction,” he paused to press a little kiss to your cheek before wandering back to where he’d been working.

While you were still a little more prickly than Jake had been anticipating and he hadn’t exactly been smooth about asking you out, he was still thrilled that you’d agreed. Besides, there were plenty more love songs he could pester you with.

#male reader x jake dillinger #male!reader x jake dillinger #jake dillinger x male reader #jake dillinger x male!reader #male reader x be more chill #male!reader x be more chill #male reader x bmc #male!reader x bmc #reader x be more chill #reader x jake dillinger #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader insert #male!reader insert

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fangs4thememories · 5 years

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A glimpse into the past: Jake Dillinger (part two)

Something’s wrong. Jake can feel it, an innate violation, crawling underneath his skin like bulbous maggots. They are wriggling acutely, burrowing through meaningless tissue and chewing at his most useless parts until he has been left faulty. Hollow. Something putrid lingers in the air, rotting moss and gasoline, drawing Jake in like a visionless moth to flame. His chest feels as though it has been cracked open and ripped apart by greedy talons; soupy insides pulverized beyond recognition.

His tongue feels like sandpaper inside of his mouth. His vocabulary strangled and broken, little shards of spluttered speech which seem to amplify painfully inside his aching temples. The magnets nestled inside his hips draw him forward through impenetrable darkness despite how he trips over frosty flooring and a flaccid blonde cadaver.

He throws himself from Shaul’s room with a pathetic whimper, shoulder clashing against ornate walls and thighs burning from his previous violation. The hallways before him seem to swivel and stretch into ribbons of elastic. And he just can’t seem to catch up.

“Shhh..aul?” He hisses, the decibels stolen from cracked lips.

The maggots dancing underneath his flesh have begun to incinerate. He can feel his skin combusting, fat blisters plumping up within his joints that are just begging to burst. Every movement seems to scald that bit deeper and with how Jake is fumbling forward on an uncertain path his wounds are only increasing in severity.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know why he feels so lost. All he knows for certain is that the sudden texture-change of stone underneath his bare feet is enough of a sensory shock to have him crashing onto bruised knees.

A sharp, arctic wind whips ferociously against Jake’s exposed flesh; the first taste of a rapidly approaching autumn coating his hollow chest in a film of goosebumps. He snags his fingers around a clump of damp peridot leaves digging into his side and tries to wrench himself into a mobile position. The air is suffocating and thick and flavoured by that same rancid scent as before. Anaemic ash swirls around his ankles and loops against his throat, smothering him, has him coughing dryly into the stiff air as his fingers dig into the soil beneath him.

Soil.

Stone.

Leaves.

He’s in the courtyard – he has to be! And yet he has absolutely not been granted the clearance to traverse across restricted terrain. Distantly, he considers the serrated slap of riveted leather tearing up the skin of his ass from GodHead’s many trinkets. But there are transparent wires wrapped around his veins which pull him onward. He needs this. He needs to keep going. Something is fucking wrong.

The pain in his chest only deteriorates with every drag of his ankles; his skin itching so desperately that he longs to tear it clean from bone. His eyes feel thick and dusty against the ash in the air, ready to erupt, his lashes caked in soot and his lungs shrivelling. He moves on an invisible line through a maze of vast overgrown shrubbery and unkempt bushes. The skin of his knees fraying against dirty stone.

In the back of his head he can hear a remote voice crackling. Commanding. Scratching away at the texture of his skull.

Jake…

You are mine…

There is such strain to the voice that Jake’s abdomen twists in on itself.

He gags against the heat of a rising sun as it beats down on his fractured posture. His vision wilts around the edges, clouded and dry, blending into smudged shadows and providing just enough obscurity to keep Jake utterly perplexed. Utterly terrified.

He’s closer, now. He can feel it. His insides are congealing, rippling into thunderous waves and he simply can’t keep himself together. He presses weak fingertips in against his ribs in an attempt to keep his rotting core from splashing across the asphalt and while his skin remains whole, structured, he absolutely fucking knows he’s splitting open. That voice resonates again only far more potent – amplifying the acceleration in Jake’s lazy shuffling.

Jake…

Forgive me…

There are shards of glass piercing across dilated pupils, a horrendous chill stinging his corneas, and he swipes them away with the curve of his knuckle for a better glance at the universe before him. And all at once the scenery becomes crystal clear. Hyper-focused. A little too pristine.

Gargantuan silver bars separate motionless prey from the rest of the nocturnal universe. Fat bulbs of garlic decorate every sharp corner and weave throughout an imposing mechanism which keeps the door locked firmly in place. It is a medieval prison, sunlight bleeding through forged steel and onto a heap of rotting flesh and disintegrating bone.

Onto the decaying presence of Shaul.

Jake can’t help the petrified wail which bursts from his lips in an abundance of airborne moths. He throws himself toward the sickening singe of silver keeping his elder mercilessly captured, willing strength into impotent limbs, his palms grabbing irrationally at toxic bars as though he can somehow pry them open.

“What’re you doing?!”

He can sense GodHead before he sees him; a malevolent entrapment of sinister shadows burning behind him. Absolutely writhing with power.

“This does not concern you, Jacob.” His grin is vicious, ivory fragments curling across a ravenous mouth.

“Y-You’re going to kill him!” Jake is screaming. Inconsolable. The ulcers packed under his flesh are beginning to rupture.

And GodHead simply laughs that wicked, powdery laugh; completely at peace.

“Yes. That’s the plan.”

The very flesh of Jake’s palms m e l t into poisonous platinum poles from clutching so tightly. Yet, no matter how frantically he tugs against Shaul’s enclosure the cell just won’t give way. An aimless rattle echoing lost to an ignorant dawn.

“Please, let him out! You have to l-let him out!”

His insides feel vacant. Completely and utterly fucking hollow. His very soul has been carved out piece by piece until all that remains is the toxicity of the person he has become. Needy and desperate and dying.

Because he is. He’s absolutely fucking dying.

Shaul is dying and now he’s going to die too.

He’s going to die, and his legacy will be nothing more than a slaughterer.

He’s fucking going to die!

The vengeful sun steals away another piece of Shaul’s disintegrating face, bone dissolving into pale ash, his eyes bubbling and mouth hauntingly slack. He is unrecognizable like this – completely massacred, gargling on his own blood as his stomach fizzles away and his chest collapses.

“P-Please! Shaul!”

For a moment, a second suspended in horror, Jake swears he can see the edges of Shaul’s lacerated lips crease skyward. So coy. So confident. So Shaul.

And then his head bursts open underneath the intense pressure of undiluted silver and treacherous sunlight; coating the asphalt in one thousand pieces of a being who once was.

Jake’s throat rattles against the weight of another agonizingly loud scream. He presses corroded fingertips in against his temples to somehow elevate the agony residing there. There are vast cracks chipping away at the swell of his skull, pretty little lightening bolts failing to keep his brain from oozing out their junctures.

“STOP!” He pleas, his tongue shrivelling up inside his mouth. He collapses to the earth with enough force to fracture his spine, disjointed limbs dancing on the asphalt. There is so much pressure on his lungs that his vowels bleed into warbled consonants. “I NEED HIM!”

Impenetrable eyes roll swiftly within their sockets. Pure pity. Pure distaste. GodHead watches in absolute pleasure as the last pieces of Shaul waste away into thin air. Eradicated. Snuffed.

All Jake’s breath leaves him in an instant. Torn fingertips claw frantically at the stone underneath him. His feet are a flurry of shattered bone kicking toward an invisible entity. And then all goes d a r k.

GodHead tucks his tongue against the solidity of his teeth and releases quickly, tutting disapprovingly at the sight of the flaccid vampire spread out before him.

“How pathetic.” He sighs, shoving the heel of his boot into Jake’s feeble abdomen. He turns toward the Elders tucked obediently by his side; anticipating the texture of their mouths consuming out of his palm. “Ezekiel – Gather his ashes. I want no part of him leaving this courtyard. Salome – take Jacob back to his room. I imagine he’ll have some difficulty adjusting to this new arrangement. See to it that Lilah takes care of him until he is ready to return to the coven. Understood?”

He doesn’t wait for any affirmation before he turns back toward the Mansion, head turned up toward the amethyst sky. The poison has finally been lifted from his life and he can feel his power swirling thickly throughout his veins. Unrestrained. Unbeaten. Because the remnants of his biggest advisory will be tucked away in a solid silver capsule accurately marked ‘traitor.’

Just like he deserves.

#backstory #writing

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thirstygirlclub · 6 years

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Duchess - 1

Chapter 1 – Poor Little Rich Girl

I had never thrown a fit like the one I had thrown when Daddy told me that we had to move away from all of my friends and family. I threw my phone and shattered it, I cried until my eyes were red and puffy, I screamed and stomped my feet but nothing would convince him to quit his job.

“This is a very important business opportunity for Daddy,” Mom whimpered, bent over in a slight bow as she rung her hands worriedly, “it’ll be good for you to get away from this city for a while.”

“Daddy needs to decide who is more important. Me or his business. I know which one I would choose.” I snapped as I threw my designer clothes messily into my Gucci suitcases.

I stomped away to my shoe closet and grabbed an armful of Louboutin’s to throw them carelessly in another suitcase. Mom and Greta, the housekeeper and my nanny when I was younger, went behind me folding and sorting out all the items I was chucking around. Romeo, my precious Pomeranian, followed me around my room dutifully looking up at me and yapping happily every time I would start to cry again. I stood in the middle of my huge bedroom then fell dramatically onto the bed, throwing my arms around my pillows and crying into them. My makeup had run all over the soft cotton but I didn’t care.

“Now, Miss Cat,” Greta said gently, coming over and petting my hair gently, “your brother is excited about going to a new town. Why can’t you be as enthusiastic as him?”

“He doesn’t have any friends!” I cried, “he’s got nothing to miss! I’ve got all my friends and Grannie!”

Greta sighed in that exasperated way that she always did when she thought I was being overly dramatic. I looked up at her through my wet eyelashes and saw that she was looking at me with a small, sad smile. I curled onto my side and cried again. Greta chuckled quietly and ran her hands through my hair like she had done since I was a child.

“Poor Goldilocks,” she cooed comfortingly, “maybe you will find peace in Charming? I know I will; there won’t be nearly as much traffic to dodge and you might even find yourself a man.”

“She is not finding a man full stop,” I heard Daddy say from the doorway, “whether it’s here or in Charming.”

“She isn’t a little girl anymore Mr Duke,” Greta scolded gently, still stroking my hair and humming softly, “she has to grow up sometime.”

I looked up at Daddy stood in the doorway, his broad frame almost filling it, with his arms folded and his eyes looking at me with sympathy. Before I could say anything to him my little brother Jack ran in and started jumping on my bed; almost knocking into Greta and trampling all over me. I screamed at him and tried to stand up to fight him off but he sat on my back and kicked his feet so that I couldn’t move my arms. Jack was 15 and already a lot taller and stronger than me. He took after my dad with his height and build whereas I was definitely my mother’s daughter.

“Jack,” Daddy snapped, “get off of your sister! You are far too big to be doing that now!”

When he fell to the side I finally sat up and threw my pillow at his head, sticking my tongue out before smiling smugly. Daddy was always on my side when it comes to things like this, well, normally he was on my side when it comes to everything but I just couldn’t work out how to get him to stop us from moving. Jack stuck his middle finger up at me when our parent’s backs were turned and only Greta and I saw him. Greta gasped and scolded him quietly, telling him not to let our father see what he was doing. I had always been Greta’s favourite. I had tucked myself against her side with another smug smile towards my brother.

“Come on now Darling,” Mom said and scraped the stray hairs away from her face, “you need to help Mommy and Daddy pack before the moving van gets here tomorrow.”

I sighed and pulled reluctantly away from Greta. She petted my hair again then stood and showed me how to roll my clothes so that I could fit way more into my suitcase than when I had just thrown it in. She then sat on top of the case while I struggled to zip it up and we laughed, I had almost forgotten why I was packing in the first place. I helped her pack one more suitcase then we moved onto my shoes storage.

“Oh,” I gasped, “you think I could do that with my shoes too Greta?”

“What?”

“Like…”

I tried to stuff my shoes in altogether like I had with the clothes. Jack spluttered and called me an idiot for thinking I could roll my shoes up and Daddy scolded him again, telling him to finish his own packing while they helped me. Jack huffed but did as he was told. Daddy passed me some of my clothes and Greta helped my fold while Mom packed another one.

“Remember though Darling,” Mom said to me and Daddy, “you still need clothes for the next few days while we are travelling.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a frown, looking up from where I had been trying to zip another suitcase, “I thought the flight was only a couple of hours.”

“I’ve told you Sweetheart,” Daddy sighed in the way he always did when I was being dumb, “we can’t fly because we need to drive the cars down.”

“Why can’t the drivers drive the cars?”

He sighed again and looked at Greta with a pointed look, the one he did when he was getting really fed up of my being dumb. I looked at Greta for an explanation. She took my hand in hers and stroked my cheeks kindly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“I am the only member of staff that is coming with you, little one, your drivers are staying here with their families so you will drive your cute little car with your Romeo, Mr Duke will drive his fancy sports car and Mrs Dillinger will drive her 4x4 with your brother.”

I sighed and threw myself across her lap; making her laugh again and stroked my hair gently. Cooing again.

“Life just isn’t fair is it, Miss Cat? Poor little rich girl has to drive her own car for a couple of days.” She chuckled while I glared at her from beneath my blonde curls.

Driving across the state wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it would be; I could blare my music and sing as loud as I wanted without being told to be quiet or that my music choice was hurting anyone’s ears. I mean, Romeo probably wasn’t very happy but he never said anything about it. He loved his mommy and wouldn’t ever do anything to upset me. He kept trying to hang his head out of the window but his legs were way to short and I didn’t want to open the window because I wanted to keep him in the car.

Suddenly, my phone started to ring and I jumped; causing me to swerve slightly on the road. Luckily it was empty so the only living creature witnessing my faux pas was Romeo. I turned down Britney Spears and answered the phone call. It was Jack.

“S’up sis!” he said sweetly, “Mom said we are gonna stop at this next motel ‘cause Dad is tired and needs a rest.”

“What’s it called?” I asked, narrowing my eyes trying to look in the distance for lights.

“The Midnight Inn.”

I wrinkled my nose at the name. I am definitely going to get murdered in a place called The Midnight Inn. I’m too young and pretty to die though! I tried not to think about the sinking feeling in my stomach as I came up to a sign that said it was only a few kilometres left. When I pulled into the decrepit parking lot, I wretched. It looked so disgusting and I really didn’t want to stay the night there.

There was so many cracks on the walls with plants growing out of them. When I looked further down the parking lot I saw an open door that, upon closer inspection, had been kicked in with police tape crossed over the gap. The window to the reception area was so murky it probably hadn’t been cleaned ever.

I parked my car next to Daddy’s Lambo and let Romeo out to go for a pee and a... you know. I picked it up with the doggie doo doo bag and threw it in the already too full bin in the middle of the parking lot. It was the most random place to put a trash can but, judging by the rest of the place, it wasn’t the most well thought out of places. I found my family in the office of the motel. Mom had her arms wrapped around herself with her coat pulled tightly around her body. Daddy was stood with Jack at the desk, asking for their best rooms to which the woman behind the desk was um-ing and ah-ing about the keys. It looked like she just picked out two different keys and gave them to my dad.

The room was about as disgusting as the rest of the place. I had yelled at Daddy for making me stay there but he firmly told me that I had no choice, if I didn’t want to drive through the night. There were roaches in the bathroom and bugs in the bed. The carpet had come up at the corners where I’m positive I saw rats. Romeo was having fun chasing the different creatures on the carpet and under the bed. When he came back out, his beautiful brown fur was riddled with bugs and spider webs. I ran to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet but then the sight of the bathroom made me throw up again. I had had quite enough of this disgusting place already so I slipped on my favourite pink feathered sandals. I hadn’t even noticed it was raining until I felt the water splash up over the sides and soak my feet.

I bashed on my parents door until Mom answered, looking tired and like she had just woken up. I shouted at her to get Daddy and that I wanted a new room or at least new sheets so I could sleep moderately well. Daddy just shouted that if I wanted to get a new room or new sheets I would have to go and talk to the man myself.

“Fine!” I growled through gritted teeth and stomped across the parking lot towards the office to shout at the man behind the desk.

I don’t even remember what I had said, I just shouted at him until he gave me what I wanted. Everything that I had thought about saying was suddenly ripped out of my lungs when I turned around to see four dangerous looking men stood behind me. I didn’t mean to fall back against the dirty counter but I couldn’t help stumbling back from my fright. It was as if I could feel the decades worth of grime and dirt had seeped through the thin satin of my robe and was now sat against my skin. The bile rose up in my throat again although I’m not entirely sure what I had left to throw up. My feeble attempt at a scary look did nothing to make them move out of my way and I felt myself shrinking under their gaze, feeling so naked and exposed in just my thin night clothes.

I had never been so undressed in front of any man that wasn’t my father or brother before and found myself trying to tuck my robe around me. I was about to say something harsh to them all before the man with the funny accent opened the door for me.

"Let me get the door for you Lass. I can tell you’ve had a trying day.”

I made tears come to my eyes and looked up at him with wide eyes, a move I pulled on my dad and his friends all the time when I wanted them to feel sorry for me. He kind of smiled at me behind dark glasses and nodded. I smiled back at him and went to leave but was suddenly grabbed by the big, hairy man. His touch made me shudder and I tried to pull my arm away from him, dropping my new sheets and key in shock. Again, I shrunk away from his heated gaze, trying to hide my body from him with my free arm but feeling scared for my life.

"You want me to make you feel better?" the hairy man said with raised eyebrows causing his other friends to laugh.

“I would literally rather die,” I spat in a moment of bravery and pulled my arm away from him only to trip over the fallen sheets as I went through the door.

I bent down to grab my key then screamed for my dad. The big man had said something to me as I walked away but I just shrieked in frustration and stormed over to the room where my dad was staying. When he answered the door, I fell into his arms and cried hard. He led me into the room where Mom sat with me on the bed and I told them all about what had just happened. I might have embellished some details to make it sound more dramatic but not too much; just enough to make it slightly traumatic. I really wanted my dad to feel bad for making me stay in this pig house!

Once I had calmed down Mom sent me back to my room to get some sleep but there was literally no point even trying. Between feeling so hungry I could eat the roach that just crawled across my foot, not really but you get the point, and feeling so sick from the thought of my precious baby being covered in them I couldn’t sleep. I just decided to get dressed and just take Romeo out for a walk. It was quiet now so I doubt there was any killers roaming around the parking lot. I know that’s what every stupid girl in a horror movie is like but they don’t have a ferocious dog to protect them.

As I thought this, Romeo yelped when a rat ran passed him. In his defence, the rodent was about the same size as him. I wasn’t going to stay in that room a moment longer.

Outside was quiet. It was almost too quiet but it was a nice break from hearing the creatures scratching in the walls and under the floorboards. I didn’t need to leash Romeo; he loved me too much to run away. Besides, there was literally nowhere for him to run too except the deserted road and desert just beyond that. There was mud now in place of the dirt that was there before. My pretty beige Louboutin’s got a bit dirty which I would usually be angry about but I was way too tired and hungry to be bothered by them right now. A bit in the distance I saw the holy light that was quite clearly a vending machine. I almost skipped over to it, reaching into my pocket I found a couple of dollars from when we stopped earlier at the service station. Finally my luck was beginning to change!

My hope didn’t last too long. I whined and whimpered as I bashed the glass of the vending machine. The stupid chips were stuck. All I wanted was a bag of chips and a bed without insects and a room without rats, was that really too much to ask? I stamped my foot, making the clicking sound echo around the empty motel. I rested my forehead against the glass before giving up and hitching Romeo up on my hip to turn around walk away, apparently not destined to eat those glorious chips that I craved. Suddenly, I heard the loudest crash that ever. It was louder than when I crashed my car into a wall last year.

I whipped around, wide eyed and holding Romeo closer to me. One of the men from the office had kicked the side of the machine with his heavy boot. He looked through the window before grunting while kicking the machine again; causing a chain that was hung from his baggy jeans to jingle slightly. The snack machine tipped onto the opposite corner then landed back flat on the floor with another loud bang. He turned and took a couple of steps towards me with his arm outstretched.

This is it, I thought, this guy is gonna kill me. I am going to die in some gosh forsaken motel in the middle of nowhere.

I was just about to beg for my life and tell him that I was a good, innocent girl. I was a vegetarian for goodness sakes! I had never hurt a fly in my whole life. Not on purpose anyway. Then I realised what he was holding. He didn’t have a gun in his hand, like I had thought, but instead there was the bag of chips that I had been craving.

“Here,” he said in a gruff, raspy voice and shook the bag slightly.

I stared at his face for a long while before blinking away whatever scared thoughts I had and crept closer to him holding Romeo in one arm while my other was outstretched to take the chips off him. I didn’t want to go to close though; he could still grab me and take me away after all. When I grabbed the bag off him, I calmed Romeo who had started yapping happily at him.

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, as I would have to any man older than me, and gave him what I hoped was a polite nod.

The man smiled slightly, nodded back and before I could say anything else to him I heard Daddy calling me. I started to walk back to the motel room, Romeo in one arm, bag of chips in the other and turned to give the man one last look. He was staring after me with a small frown on his face.

I tried to memorise his face but I didn’t think it would have been hard to recognise him again. More than anything, I think I would remember his really intense, dark eyes. He looked dangerous, I mean he must have been to vandalise a snack machine just so a random girl could have some food, but the way he held himself and the leather waistcoat thing that hung on his shoulders made him look scary too. But his face… he was so good looking but not in the Hollywood way that I was used too. He didn’t have the blonde hair and blue eyes with designer clothes and boat shoes, he was a kind of rugged handsome that I had never seen before.

When the morning finally came, I had barely slept at all. I had chosen to sleep in Mom’s room since Daddy had chased away most of the bugs and he and Jack went to sleep in my room with all the rats. I decided that maybe jeans would be way too hot for the hot California sun and decided on some little, high-waisted denim shorts instead. Then I thought my top looked wrong so I changed into a floral, lace bralet that probably showed off slightly too much cleavage but it was hot. So sue me, you know?

Mom looked at my outfit with approval, telling me that I looked very grown up. I smiled and threw my curls over my shoulder before making my way outside with my bags in hand and Romeo at my heels.

“Looking very slutty today Catherine,” Jack said with a snide laugh.

“Shut up you absolute cretin,” I spat back at him as I pressed the button that unlocked my car.

Jack just laughed but kept on pestering me, asking if he could ride with me because Mom was only playing bad music in her car but I waved him away from me. I refused to have him in my car, he had a habit of shouting, “we’re gonna die!” and it would throw me off and make me panic. And he was always farting and burping on my leather seats, throwing food and soda all over the place and refused to sit in the back so Romeo couldn’t sit shotgun like he usually does.

“Come on Catherine! Please!”

“I said buzz off and leave me alone!” I snapped back at my little brother, getting more and more annoyed with him.

I was then distracted by seeing the only other patrons of the motel sat on a bench across from where my car was parked. They were looking at me with slight open mouths which made me feel slightly uncomfortable under their gaze as I packed my bags into the trunk of my car, making sure my hair covered my blushing cheeks.

“Hey guys!” I heard Jack call and looked up to see him waving at the men.

Three of them looked at him but that one guy kept his eyes on me steadily until he was spoken to directly to by my brother. I looked up at Jack, irritated. Why on earth was he talking to strange men? Doesn’t he know that’s how you get killed?

“Jack!” I scolded, “don’t talk to them! You don’t know them!”

“Uh yeah I do,” he said in the typical teenage boy ‘duh’ type of voice, “they are going to Charming too! They’re in a motorcycle club, how cool is that?”

“You can’t just tell people where you’re going! What if they’re dangerous?”

I already knew they were dangerous but also considered the benefits of my brother being murdered briefly before shaking the thoughts from my head and stamping my foot on the ground. I couldn’t help wondering where my parents had been when my brother was talking to four strange men. Men, I might add, that harassed me yesterday. Ok, one man harassed me yesterday and it wasn’t really that bad, but still. I sighed but walked towards him with my arms folded over my chest and took him by the shoulder.

“Sorry about him,” I said to the men and dragged my brother away, “he’s a worm. Come on Jack, we need to go and find Daddy.”

The men laughed and I saw Jack’s cheeks go bright red. The big one, the guy who grabbed me yesterday told me he could be my daddy if I wanted him to and I felt sick. The bald guy, the handsome one reached over and punched his friend on the arm as I bit back a rude comment. Jack fought with me, taking his arm away from my grasp. I huffed when he pulled my nail but thankfully it hadn’t snapped.

“Hey can I join your club?” Jack asked, “like, as a trainee or whatever.”

“Jack,” I scoffed and folded my arms, “you can’t even drive a car. What do you think you’re gonna do on a motorcycle?”

“Well you can’t drive either!”

“Um, yes I can. I have a licence and a car.”

“You broke a man’s leg! The only reason you aren’t in prison right now is because Dad paid you out and paid the guys off to let you keep your licence.”

The bikers were looking between our exchange like they were watching some kind of funny tennis match. When my brother mentioned about the old man I had accidently hurt their eyebrows shot up and all eyes were fixed on me as I huffed and clenched my teeth together. I couldn’t let Jack win though, so I put back the only defence I had.

“Well, he shouldn’t have been on the road!” I shouted, stamping my foot and leaning towards him with narrowed eyes.

“You should have been on the road!”

“You’re such a worm!”

There was a surprised ‘oh!’ from the bikers and I stood back up straight, waving my arms with a dismissive ‘whatever’ and went to find my parents. I eventually found them around the back of the motel office, whispering about something probably secretive. Daddy looked up when he heard the sound of my footsteps and they immediately stopped talking. I didn’t even care what they were talking about, I just wanted to get back on the road so I could stop sleeping in disgusting motel bedrooms and get into my own bed. I told them what Jack was doing so Daddy marched around the building to grab his son by the back of the neck and pushed him into Mom’s Range Rover. With a smug smile at him, I got into my car and Romeo jumped up onto my knee so that he could settle in his little basket on the passenger seat.

Before I closed my door, I caught a glimpse of that intense, dark stare from the good looking man from last night and I couldn’t help but wish that I had asked his name. If they really were heading towards Charming, like they told Jack, then I’m sure I’ll be seeing them at some point anyway. I couldn’t help but feel thrilled at the thought of maybe seeing him again.

S’up bitchesssss – I kind of love Catherine? Like she’s a brat and isn’t the brightest person in the world but I think she’s hiding how confused and vulnerable she is underneath it all. We’ll see though, right?

Also, I have decided that I am going to put our lovely Viv in this story later on. If this is the first story that you have read of mine, you don’t need to read my other story to get anything- that story won’t interfere with this one. I’m not that clever. I just think Viv is such a positive influence on Happy that he would probably talk to her about his feelings?

Kind of obsessed.

See you soon,

Love from Doe

xxxxxx

#happy lowman #happy lowman x oc #happy lowman fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #duchess #jax teller #chibs telford #bobby munson #poor little rich girl

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notactuallyatreefrog · 6 years

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Sexual Assault in Be More Chill

I hope this essay will encourage people who love Be More Chill to discuss the effect of “Do You Wanna Hang” on Jeremy more or victims of situations who remain quiet because they’re afraid of being seen as lesser for doing so to talk about it more. The only way we’re going to resolve these issues is if we stop ignoring them and make them into tangible problems that can be debated at greater length in- and outside of the community.

I’m a huge fan of the recently popular Be More Chill, written by Joe Tracz and Joe Iconis, and have spent hours reading interviews, listening to the soundtrack, looking at fanart, reading fan theories, and just generally being a member of the community, but I have yet to find anything talking about the SQUIP’s treatment of Jeremy in the play. Many articles and Tumblr posts mention that it was crude and damaging to Jeremy, an impressionable teen, but few go so far as to call it abuse and only one article uses the phrase “sexual harassment” to describe what happens to him.

For those who don’t know, Be More Chill was a book written by Ned Vizzini later adapted into a musical about a kid named Jeremy Heere whose bully at school suggested he take a pill containing a SQUIPーsuper quantum unit intel processorー a robot that tells its users how to act and “be more chill” in an attempt to attain popularity. Jeremy takes the pill with little hesitation, bathing in the sudden light shining on him. The SQUIP attempts to help Jeremy attract the attention of the girl hopes to pursueーChristine Canigulaーand he succeeds in the end, but has already realized the full extent of the SQUIP’s damage by then. He has ruined his relationship with his best and only friend, Michael Mell, because the SQUIP controlled his brain in such a way that Jeremy couldn’t see Michael, and broke the heart of the girl he played at an interest in, Brooke Lohst, by being forced to cheat on her with her friend, Chloe Valentine. Jeremy took the pill in the first place to get with Christine, but only obeys it out of fear of becoming like his dad, Mr. Heere, who hasn’t yet recovered from his wife leaving and whose life is a wreck and therefore making Jeremy’s life difficult.

The SQUIP begins by verbally abusing Jeremy, telling him “everything about you is so terrible / everything about you makes me wanna die” in their first encounter. Jeremy is visibly uncomfortable when the SQUIP says this, but has enough control over his life to listen to its commands and insults, but not take them to heart. For instance, the SQUIP encourages him to buy a shirt with the rapper Eminem on it, saying that he “[envisions] a future in which [Jeremy] wears an Eminem shirt and things turn out well.” This is done to attract the attention of Brooke and to ease Jeremy into trusting it.

Jeremy never fully trusts the SQUIP, however, and it intervenes more and more in his life physically as the play progresses, even going as far as to force him to drink alcohol and, had he and Chloe not been interrupted, have sex with her. The scene begins when she lies to him, promising that Brooke had a surprise for him, but instead takes advantage of his trust in her and lures him into a bed. When Jeremy starts to panic and says that he has to go, the SQUIP prevents him from standing up as Chloe admits her jealousy of Brooke and begins to kiss him. He fails to push her away as she asks if he wants to “stop being coy” and offers him alcohol. The SQUIP forces him to drink some, despite his pleading it to “make it stop,” and Chloe removes his shirt and continues to kiss him. Jake Dillinger, the person hosting the party Chloe and Jeremy were attending, overhears them and angrily asks if they were having sex. Chloe fakes sex noises to convince Jake and stir up drama as Jeremy rushes to deny it. He stutters as he yells and is clearly panicked about the situation.

Jeremy is finally able to pull away, with the SQUIP disabled from the recently ingested alcohol, and rushes into the bathroom. His breathing is heavy, though not likely from running, grunts as though about to vomit, and he whispers “oh my God” as a means to process what has just happened.

This, dear reader, is what the community centered around Be More Chill fails to discuss: Jeremy is a victim of sexual assault and toxic masculinity. Everyone (myself included) is quick to point out Michael as suffering from the latter, but glosses over that Jeremy struggles as well. As a refresher, toxic masculinity is a term sociologists use to describe when gender stereotypes and their resulting expectations for men harm a man psychologically and emotionally. For instance, men are often encouraged to be leaders in science and business fields, so a parent or teacher may discourage a young boy interested in a more creative and therefore “feminine” career, suggesting he instead pursue a job as a lawyer. Generally speaking, voicing one’s feelings is often seen as more for women, so a man not wanting to share if he had been hurt from fear of being called whiny and babyish would also be considered toxic masculinity. Additionally, because men usually play dominating roles in romantic relationships with women, a man who has been sexually assaulted would probably be dismissed, because men are, statistically speaking, more often the ones being the perpetrators.

The fans of Be More Chill are guilty of this, as evidenced by the lack of discussion of Jeremy’s assault. It’s possible that some are under the impression that it wasn’t assault, that Chloe believed Jeremy consented, but this simply isn’t true. His body language, tone, and word choice all clearly convey that he wasn’t eager to have intercourse with Chloe and she ignores him, telling him that he’s just messing around. She continues to enforce the theme of toxic masculinity in doing this because she blatantly assumes that all Jeremy wants is sex, like men are often portrayed. She thinks that he’s just like every other guy, only wanting to get into her pants, and she willingly complies to a thought Jeremy never had, even forcing it on him. Chloe rudely stereotypes him and silences him, a silence that he carries with him throughout the remainder of the second act. Of course, because of heroic and masculine stereotypes, which often intercept, the audience of Be More Chill would be less likely to accept and respect Jeremy as the hero if he were to be visibly put off and scarred by his assault, as talking about social issues is often seen as for social justice warriors and weak people. It takes a lot of courage to go against the grain and talk about how you were violated sexually, emotionally, physically, or otherwise harmed, which is why so few come forward and do it. But, the heroes who were violated are considered strong for not talking about their issues, for keeping it in and simply dealing. They simply deal, of course, for not feeling brave enough to talk about their issues and therefore push past them more easily. Unfortunately, however, until we can accept the fact that enforcing gender roles damages both women and men, it’s unlikely we’ll ever see a depressed hero on medication, a popular character who retired from the army going to therapy, or any other “damaged” heroes who didn’t just ignore their issues until they went away.

In conclusion, I hope this essay will encourage people who love Be More Chill to discuss the effect of “Do You Wanna Hang” on Jeremy more or victims of situations who remain quiet because they’re afraid of being seen as lesser for doing so to talk about it more. The only way we’re going to resolve these issues is if we stop ignoring them and make them into tangible problems that can be debated at greater length in- and outside of the community.

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